CHAPTER 1

“Scott, hold on buddy! I am running out of breath-!"

In this moment, another root promptly materialized over the top of his shoe, and Stiles went from running to indelicately planting his face in the moist forest floor. Aching, he groaned and pushed upwards onto his knees.

“Oh, sorry Stiles." Scott stopped running, “I thought you were right behind me."

Stiles got up, slowly, as Scott trotted back.

“I was," he grumbled, picking decomposing leaves out of his nose, “but you run a bit faster than you used to, and at some point, the pack humans just can't keep up anymore… what?"

Scott's face had scrunched up, eyes narrowing as he let his gaze travel down Stiles' frame, “Eeh, Stiles?"

“What? What is it?," he ruffles his hair for loose leaves, lifting his foot to look under the sole, “god, tell me it's not a spider. I don't get paid nearly enough for it to be a spider."

“No, it's just that you have something on your-"

“What, my shirt?"

“Yeah, wait, don't touch that!"

“EWW", Stiles held up his hands that had just padded down his hoodie clad chest. The fabric was soaked, he realized, as he felt his sparse chest hair begin to dampen. His palms and fingers were sticky and wet, dripping with a purplish slime. As they watched in horror, a thick dollop fell loose and plopped down onto the orange-leafed ground.

Where Stiles had just arisen from, a puddle of the stuff lay inconspicuously, gleaming in the afternoon sun.

“What is that?" Scott exclaimed, looking disgusted and fascinated all at once. He picked up a stick, and poked the goo with great distaste showing on his tan face.'

“It smells like bubblegum," Stiles informed, sniffing his hands firmly, while simultaneously keeping them as far away from his person as possible. Scott looked up, and threw the stick aside.

“I don't think you should smell that," he said slowly, eying the mess.

“Well, I might as well, seeing as I'm already touching it," Stiles reasoned. Scott looked unconvinced and also slightly green around the gills.

“We don't even know what it is. It could be like, pixie poop."

“Pixie poop," Stiles repeated, “you think so?"

“I don't know, it could be!". Scott lowered his dark eyebrows, “it wouldn't be a far fetch, considering that pixies are the reason we are out here after all."

“In that case, this really sucks literal pixie ass," Stiles grumbles, sniffing the goo again for good measure.

“Dude, stop."

“Yeah, sorry."

“I should call Derek," Scott said, fumbling with his phone and bringing it up to his face while finding the contact. “He should be home, so he'll only be about 15 minutes."

Another dollop dripped from Stiles' hands and onto the nose of his white converse, making him frown.

“I don't think he is going to let me back into his car, Scott," Stiles tried to find a comfortable place for his hands, but ended up just holding them in front of his body like a zombie.

“What? Of course he will," Scott said distractedly, looking up, “eh, well otherwise we will just call a cab to come and get us or something. Shh, it's calling."

While Scott filled Derek in, starring lots of repetitions of the events that had occurred (“yes, Derek, it's purple, no I swear, I am looking at him right now!"), Stiles decided to just bite the bullet, and dried his hands on the dry patches of his hoodie, arguing that his upper body was already slimy, and he might as well free his hands.

“Okay, he is on his way," Scott hangs up the phone and puts it into his back pocket, where it will no doubt be falling out of within the next five minutes or so.

“Wow, I'm really surprised by that," Stiles says, moved, “Most of the time he won't even let me into his car when I'm clean."

Scott coughs mildly, “yeah, well, he just discovered that he had some plastic covering leftover from the move, and he also said that you have to take your top off before getting in."

“That sounds more like him."

oo-00-oo

They start walking towards the pickup spot, a narrow road snaking through the forest from the preserve entrance closest to the Hale loft. While they walk, Stiles swings his arms back and forth, letting them air dry and feeling the purple set along his nail beds.

“What do you really think it is?" Scott asks him, watching Stiles' arms swing in the last last from the setting sun.

“What, you don't think that it's pixie shit?" Stiles asks.

“At first I did," Scott hesitates, “but that would mean that a lot of pixies decided to 'do their thing' in the exact same location, and everything that we have read says pixies aren't really smart enough for that."

“Might not sound plausible, but it could still be poop," Stiles reasons. Scott stops in his step, tilting his head disbelievingly.

“Do you want it to be poop?!" he demands incredulously.

“Dude, no I don't want it to be poop," Stiles replies, rolling his eyes as they start walking again. “I'm just saying, there are worse things to land in, considering some of the escapades we have been on. Like, it could have been kanima venom, or, or a rotting, worm infested corpse!"

“I guess you are right, “Scott admits," It could have been a magic goo that turned you into some kind of beast."

“Yeah, and we have enough of those running around, am I right?" Stiles burst out laughing when he fell to the ground for the second time that day, this time propelled by Scott's playful push to his shoulder.

“Even if it was a potion that turns people into beasts, it probably wouldn't affect you much, dumbass, “Scott retorted teasingly, “you would most likely become a teeny tiny dog with fluffy ears and a fuzzy tail."

Stiles gets to his feet, hunching over to laugh, “yeah, and a dog tag that says 'S', for Scotties baby boy!"

Scott leaned against the nearest tree, wheezing, while his floppy hair fell into his eyes. Stiles fell back onto his ass supporting himself with his palms on the soft leaves, as they laughed into the warm, near darkness.

In the distance a cone of light cut through the trees, soon illuminating the dirt path they were standing on.

“Geeeez," Stiles exhaled, once more getting to his feet, “that must be Derek."

“Yep, I can hear him grumbling," Scott answered, moving forward towards the car, “let's go, Baby Boy!"

Stiles growled theatrically and got moving as well.

“Don't even try me, dude."