[They're walking home in the rain, since Stiles locked himself out of his Jeep and his phone is dead, so he can't call for help. He'd been going to meet Sam out in the woods when it started raining, intending to follow a scent Sam had picked up; the scent would be long gone by the time this downpour ended.
Unfortunately, Stiles hadn't thought to keep an umbrella in his car, so now he was completely soaked through, shivering as he walked alongside Sam, who couldn't shift back since his clothes had been locked in Stiles' Jeep. What a day.]
[To say that they were having a bad day was a profound understatement. A hunt gone cold, then Stiles locks his keys in the Jeep, and now this. Rain. Buckets of it. His fur is soaked through and his paws are covered with mud as they trudge along back to his place. There’s really nowhere else they can go. The pack is too far out and there’s no way he’s going to Stiles’s house while he’s naked, covered in mud and completely soaked. The Sheriff isn’t completely sold on the idea of them being together and that would more than likely be a deal breaker.
[So they’re taking the longer route through the woods back to his place. Wet, bedraggled and freezing cold.
[The only consolation is that once they get back, there’s a hot shower and piles of blankets. Sam spares a concerned glance at Stiles as they walk. A werewolf constitution means he’s not going to get sick. But that doesn’t mean Stiles won’t. A worried whine as he noses his palm.]
[Sam nudges him with his flank. Stiles is more arms and legs than bulk. He could carry him. And they might be able to conserve a little body heat that way.
You... [Stiles really needs to work on his wolf-decoding skills. Finally, he figures it out, raising an eyebrow and tightening his arms around his torso.] Seriously?
[Stiles gives in. He has to - it's freezing and he's chilled to the bone, wet and trying to conserve body heat. He climbs onto Sam awkwardly, burying his face in the wolf's wet locks.] Aw, Christ.
[One wet dog joke and he's going to get pranked into the middle of next month. But as soon as his weight is balanced, Sam starts loping in the direction of the house. Sure that Stiles won't fall, he speeds up, leaping over logs and puddles, dashing home.
[Stiles tightens his hold when Sam starts to move faster, squeezing his eyes shut. It's kind of terrifying, the strange sensation of riding a wolf like this. Sam can probably hear Stiles' heart speeding up.
Stiles almost falls, once, due to his own inability to balance, even hunched over flat on Sam's back. He lets out a small, terrified yelp and shivers, burying his face in Sam's neck.]
[Stiles overbalancing nearly sends them both plowing into a massive puddle, but Sam gathers his strength and leaps, just barely clearing it. As his legs start to get weary, he finally sees home. Tossing his head with a relieved chuff, he gets as far as the door before allowing Stiles to slide off.
[Thank god he'd convinced Dean to get a spare key and hide it. Sam shifts, grimacing at the lash of cold rain against his naked body, diving for the key and pulling the door open. His teeth are already chattering.] Get the shower running. We can warm up faster.
[Stiles slides off and nods as Sam tells him to start the shower, hurrying inside after him. His sneakers squelch on the doormat and Stiles pulls them off, though his socks weren't much better. He nearly falls over trying to pull them off too, full-body shivers running through him, and scrambles for the bathroom. Sam's damn lucky he can't get sick - Stiles is almost guaranteed to.
He starts the shower, peeling off his layers as fast as he can. His shirt is completely plastered to his chest underneath the hoodie, and he struggles to get it over his head.]
[Sam is naked, freezing, his legs and arms covered in mud. It was going to be hell cleaning the carpet later, but right now, he had to get Stiles warm. While the water ran, he dug out two sets of sweats and all the towels he could find.
He slipped into the bathroom to find Stiles struggling with his shirt and moves to help him.] Here, 've got it. Hang on. [The shirt off, he pulls at his sodden jeans. They were all but stuck to his legs. Sam slices down the side with his claws. Stiles needs to get warm.] I'll buy you another pair.
Hey what - [Stiles almost flinches when Sam cuts off the jeans. It's been a while since somebody cut clothes off of him...but it's Sam this time, and obviously Stiles trusts him. He wiggles out of the fabric and tugs Sam towards the promising spray, pulling his lips into his mouth try and warm them.] H-how can everything be c-cold?!
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Unfortunately, Stiles hadn't thought to keep an umbrella in his car, so now he was completely soaked through, shivering as he walked alongside Sam, who couldn't shift back since his clothes had been locked in Stiles' Jeep. What a day.]
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[So they’re taking the longer route through the woods back to his place. Wet, bedraggled and freezing cold.
[The only consolation is that once they get back, there’s a hot shower and piles of blankets. Sam spares a concerned glance at Stiles as they walk. A werewolf constitution means he’s not going to get sick. But that doesn’t mean Stiles won’t. A worried whine as he noses his palm.]
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[He's pretty sure his teeth are chattering. Sam doesn't look much better, drowning in wet fur.]
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[Climb on.]
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[They're not getting there any faster and Sam could probably get them there faster on four feet. He bumps him again with his shoulder.
[Seriously. Get on.
[When he's shifted back, there will be a Discussion about never, ever, ever telling Dean about this. The dog jokes were bad enough.]
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Hardly conventional, but hey, it works.]
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Stiles almost falls, once, due to his own inability to balance, even hunched over flat on Sam's back. He lets out a small, terrified yelp and shivers, burying his face in Sam's neck.]
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[Thank god he'd convinced Dean to get a spare key and hide it. Sam shifts, grimacing at the lash of cold rain against his naked body, diving for the key and pulling the door open. His teeth are already chattering.] Get the shower running. We can warm up faster.
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He starts the shower, peeling off his layers as fast as he can. His shirt is completely plastered to his chest underneath the hoodie, and he struggles to get it over his head.]
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He slipped into the bathroom to find Stiles struggling with his shirt and moves to help him.] Here, 've got it. Hang on. [The shirt off, he pulls at his sodden jeans. They were all but stuck to his legs. Sam slices down the side with his claws. Stiles needs to get warm.] I'll buy you another pair.
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