"RUN!" Derek yells at him, pushing him back towards the Olympic-sized swimming pool.

Derek turns his back on the enemy. He turns his back on the enemy for Stiles. What an idiot.

"Derek, your neck...," Stiles remarks, stepping forward with just enough time to catch Derek as his considerably muscular form goes limp from the Kanima venom circulating unchecked throughout his veins.

Stiles has always had a theory that werewolves run hotter than their human counterparts because their hearts beat faster. Werewolves are acrobatic in nature and the heart that supplies blood to their human form must also do so to their wolf form, right? Ergo a heart that has to pump twice as fast.

Stiles' heart isn't like that, though. His heart flutters, much like a ballerina whose feet never quite touch the ground. He'd never make a good wolf.

"Come on," Stiles urges, Derek's arm over his neck. They have to keep going. "Where is he? D'you see it?"

"No! Please hurry. Call Scott!" Derek orders as they near the edge of the pool. Stiles drops his phone like the clumsy fool that he is and as he's hauling Derek's immobilized form into the pool, Derek begins to call him a less than flattering moniker beginning with 'son of a' and if water hadn't filled his mouth and nose, Stiles would bet it ended with 'bitch'.

He doesn't know why he decides that the water would make a lovely home for a man who can't even stand on his own two feet, let alone swim. But something tells Stiles that they need to get into the pool (though it could be the Kanima's ever nearing presence, but hey, who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth? In fact, he never quite got that phrase... Huh... Something to look up for later...).

Then Stiles realizes he has to make a decision. Does he grab his phone and call Scott or does he let the man he quite literally owes his life drown? Of course the man (a loose term for the gigantically complicated can of worms that is Derek Hale) comes first so Stiles jumps in headlong and grips what has to be at least two-hundred-and-fifty pounds of solid muscle, pulling Derek's starving lungs to the surface.

There are a few long moments of confusion where both men (who is Stiles kidding, he's a boy playing dress-up) try to desperately catch their breath whilst figuring out where the world's largest Komodo Dragon has gone. The water is cold - the heater gets turned off at night to save money and it's November so the outside temperature doesn't help too much - which makes it more difficult for them to get acclimated.

"Can you get me out of here before I drown?"

"You're worried about drowning? Did you notice the thing out there with multiple rows of razor sharp teeth?"

"Did you notice that I'm paralyzed from the neck down in eight feet of water?!" Derek is angry, which is good news for Stiles. Angry Derek means a normal Derek which means the venom may be wearing off.

Stiles' head is tipping further and further under water with each pass of his sweatsuit-clad legs.

"Okay... Okay I don't think I can do this much longer...," Stiles pants. His lungs aren't just burning - it feels like they refuse to expand. He's lost feeling in his feet and his legs are cramping and Derek is so heavy but if he lets go then Derek drowns and then what would the point be?

The Kanima's watching them - taunting them even - from the side of the pool and it's right in front of Stiles' phone... If only he could just... Then maybe...

"Nonononono! Don't even think about it!" Derek orders, panic lacing his tone. It almost hurts Stiles to hear that kind of fear in Derek Hale's voice. Almost.

"Could you just trust me this once?" Stiles asks him, desperate for the answer because he needs this. He needs Derek to trust him because this is all for Derek.

"No!" Is the vehement response.

"I'm the one keepin' you alive, okay, have you noticed that?" Now Stiles is frustrated. How could Derek have not noticed? Honestly, it may as well be blasting from every pore in Stiles' body. The smell of determination and desperation and despair and even some attraction (okay a lot of attraction because Derek Hale is one fine cut of man-meat) should be drowning Derek and - oh, right. Pool.

"Yeah... And when the paralysis wears off, who's going to be able to fight that thing, you or me?" And God Derek is just so fucking stupid sometimes.

"Cause that's why I've been holdin' ya up for the past two hours?" Stiles literally cannot believe that Derek is that stupid. Honestly. (It's like trying to talk to a philosopher about physics. They want to see the shit that isn't there and you're like, 'bitch please, this is an absofuckinglute', Stiles thinks.)

"You don't trust me, I don't trust you. And you need me to survive which is why you're not letting me go." Derek thinks he has it all fucking figured out, huh? Because Derek Hale is the master of trust, right?

Stiles has to prove him wrong. He has to show Derek that he is so completely and utterly wrong about everything and the world and just... ugh. He's wrong about Stiles. So he counts to three and lets go, swimming hard and fast for the edge of the pool where his cellphone rests, nearly halfway between he and the Kanima.

Derek's cry of 'Stiles!' just before he starts drowning again will haunt Stiles forever (like so many other things...).

Stiles gets to the phone and fumbles with tremulous fingers as he dials Scott's number. Scott who promptly hangs up on him because God forbid Stiles should ever need Scott as back-up...

Stiles realizes exactly how long it's been since Derek's taken a breath of air and he drops his phone into the icy depths without a second thought. When he next pulls Derek surface-side, Derek looks surprised - like Stiles wouldn't go back to get him. That hurts him, actually, because it's been two hours already and Stiles presses Derek up against him to change their positions and to make sure that Derek's head stays above water.

Stiles' strength is slipping so fast... Faster than he thought it would once he reached this stage of what he can only assume is hypothermia. Even Derek's lips have a faint bluish tint to them.

"I can't stay up any longer... I need something to hold on to...," Stiles half-pants, half-gasps into Derek's hair. Derek's spewing out more water than Stiles would like and he sees the diving boards down the other end and thinks that maybe - just maybe - he can do it.

He kicks his legs as hard as he can underneath Derek's nearly crushing weight, free arm being used to slosh water out of their path as much as possible. Stiles keeps Derek's head above water at all times no matter how much he himself may come to swallow.

When he grips that handhold and slips... All Stiles can think is that he needs to keep Derek alive. Stiles sinks to the bottom and uses all his strength - as well as his remaining air supply - to push and hold Derek up, the wall to his back as extra leverage.

This was always his plan. Stiles threw Derek into the pool knowing that he could never be half the anything that Derek is. Derek means something to people while Stiles is just the aggravating kid who talks too much and can't sit still. Stiles gets it - really, he always has - and he accepts it.

So his mission is to keep Derek alive even though he himself is dying.

Derek is strong where Stiles is weak. Derek has made himself a family where Stiles has torn his apart. Derek commands respect and authority while Stiles can't even threaten menacingly. Derek's got cracks and flaws but his real self bleeds through with every ounce of regret and concern he feels and Stiles can see that shitty exterior peeling off better than the original paint job on his Jeep.

Derek was wrong. Stiles does trust him. He trusts him with his life and with his father's life because he knows that Derek doesn't want anymore death and destruction. Derek just wants to be able to live again. Derek turned his back on the enemy for Stiles and if he's willing to save Stiles - someone who lies just to get through the day - then he's willing to save anyone.

Derek was wrong. Stiles doesn't need Derek to survive. Stiles needs Derek to survive. Derek has to live because Stiles knows he isn't worth the air he breathes.

'If there were more Derek's in the world and fewer Stiles's,' he thinks as blackness creeps in on his watery vision, 'the world would suck a whole lot less because there would be fewer lies and mistakes and accidents.

There would be fewer teenagers with a craving for eating Thumper raw once a month because Stupid fucking Stiles would never have made Scott - poor, asthmatic Scott - come out in the dark. Never would have been the reason his best friend can never have a normal life.

I could live with that'.

Stiles wakes up sometime in the future with strong hands on his chest, trying to help pump the water from his stomach and lungs. It works because suddenly everywhere burns and he knows his ribs are cracked because he's just had CPR performed on him and they always crack when it's done right.

The hands on his chest?

They're Derek's.

And so is the voice calling him names that would make a hooker blush. ('You stupid fucking son of a clogged anal gland!' for example).

Maybe he does get it.