Work Text:
Stiles started to think everything in his life could ultimately be traced back to being Scott’s fault.
Choosing to go to an English university instead of an American one? Totally Scott. Choosing to make his living in Egyptian history? Probably Scott. Finding himself in what was probably a dead end job in the Egyptian archives?
…Alright fine, so blaming Scott for everything would not be entirely fair. The only reason he found himself shelving dusty tomes was because one of his professors happened to be a close friend with the archive’s curator; Deaton. And fine, there were worse jobs than being a librarian. Stiles actually enjoyed it for the most part. The only problem was the little room for advancement. A few days ago he recieved a letter from Bembridge denying his application because he of his “lack of field experience”. That was another thing he blamed on Scott. While his best friend was constantly away on ‘digs’ Stiles spent his time organizing books.
Though, if anyone asked him (and they didn’t) Stiles felt these excavations Scott went on were so he could stalk Allison Argent. A promising archeologist from France, one of the youngest to discover an ancient burial ground. Scott was always a sucker for a hot girl with an accent. The unbelievable part was Allison's apparent interest in his best friend. At least this time, Scott's stalking tendencies played into Stiles' favor.
Scott showed up just as Stiles needed something in order to get into Deaton’s good graces after completely destroying the library. As much as he wanted to blame it on Scott this time it happened to be Stiles' general lack of balance which caused the incident. However, he was completely holding Scott responsible for the parts involving the burning of the most important part of the map: the location of the city of the dead. The part which would be cause for Stiles’ promotion. Yeah that.
And it was Scott’s fault that he was here.
“So, want to tell me how you got that puzzle box again?” he asked, stepping away from a hand reaching past the bars, “Dig in Thebes? Or in a game? I get the two confused a lot too. They even sound a like a little bit. You know when you’re drunk. Which I bet you were.”
Scott had the decency to look a bit guilty. There was still hope for him, “Actually, I kind of pick pocketed it from him, so we should go back.”
Stiles frowned at his best friend who was slowly backing up. Quickly grabbing Scott’s arm, Stiles hauled him forwards, “Look you got the puzzle box from this guy, that makes him the only person who might know about Hamunaptra, remember that?” at Scott’s silence he pressed, “Place where Pharaoh’s hid their wealth. That place. Remember now?”
Scott made an odd noise, “Fine, let’s just make this quick.”
“Great. What’s this guy doing here anyways? Did he kill someone? Kidnap an official? Pee on a pyramid? That’s illegal right?” He had been wondering about that last one for a while now.
They followed their guide closely. At first Stiles' found himself surprised the prison had an Englishman as their warden but tossed the thought aside the moment he witness how easily the warden spoke with the other guards in their own native tongue, “When I heard that you were coming I asked him that same question.”
Scott glanced over his shoulder, “What did he say?”
The warden stopped them before an empty cell, Stiles cringed knowing he was going to find sand in his shoes as the warden kicked up some onto his feet. The something about the smug look the older man gave the pair of them struck Stiles as familiar “He said he was just looking for a good time.”
Now, maybe it was just him but, it sure as hell felt like they were trained for dramatic entrances. The door leading into the cell burst open with two guards hauling in who must have been their man. Or wolfman. Guy was hairy. “Guessing this place doesn’t come with a shower.” Stiles mused aloud, thankful the wind was in his favor. He rather liked his nose hairs.
A guard’s baton brought the guy to his knees. The warden gave a great flourish. “And here is Mr. Hale as promised.” Seriously, schooled in dramatics.
“Hale?” Stiles repeated, looking from the warden to Hale.
“Derek.” the wolfman grunted. So he could speak and sounded American too, also good. “And who are you?” he demanded barely sparing Scott a look.
An outburst sounded from behind them, causing their warden/tour guide to swear in what could only be Arabic, “I’ll be back.” he informed, wiping his brow before walking away.
“I’m Stiles and this guy here who is doing a really great impression of a lost puppy is Scott, but you two already met.” Stiles continued despite Scott’s sound of protest, “Anyways, we’re here about your puzzle box.”
“No.”
Did he seriously just growl? “No?” he repeated, this place was clearly part cave.
Scott cautiously approached the cell, “What do you mean no?” he asked. Hale’s eyes narrowed as he looked him over.
“Where have we met before?” Hale asked, completely ignoring Scott’s own question.
“Stiles was joking around, I just have one of those faces.” Maybe Stiles should teach Scott some Egyptian might give him the ability to lie better, “We’ve never actually met be-”
Stile watched as Scott hit the dirt, Derek’s hand still curled into a fist. Maybe from now on, Scott would incorporate stealing with being punched in the throat. He’d be fine, Stiles told himself as he stepped over Scott, “Same thing he asked, but with out the punching. I’m fragile.”
Hale rolled his eyes, “You’re here about Hamunaptra.” he replied, he could be glaring at Stiles but the younger was beginning to think Hale’s beard was two inches short from engulfing his eyebrows.
“And what do you know about Hamunptra?”
“That’s where I got it from.” he paused, “I was there.” Hale clarified.
Stiles’ brow shot up, “You were at the city of the dead? You? Really? How do I know that you’re not jerking my chain?” he stopped himself from going further, yup that was definitely a glare, “Do you think you could tell me how to get there? I could get you a pen and paper, maybe they’ll get some extra paper, so you can make paper air planes during your free time.” he trailed off as the glare returned.
“Do you really want to know?” Derek asked.
The hell? Why did this guy think he was asking for? Vacation ideas? “Well, yeah.” Hale gestured for Stiles to come closer. Common sense told him to stay where he was but since when did common sense get a say in his life?
“You’re sure you want to know.”
Stiles leaned even closer, nodding “Yes.”
Hale’s hand darted out, grabbing Stiles’ chin and before he could curse himself for not heeding common sense, Hale pressed his mouth against Stiles’. Thrown completely off guard, he was too stunned to respond to the kiss, whether to reciprocate or attempt his own throat punch, Stiles wasn’t sure. But before he could even think of a logical response, Hale pulled away, “Then get me the hell out of here.” he growled, his mouth only an inch away.
The guards pulled Hale back right after he finished the sentence, the handy baton making a reappearance as he resisted, “Do it!” Hale shouted as they pulled him back inside, the door slamming shut behind them.
His mind still reeling, but was finally able to think of something coherent, “Where are they taking him?” he asked, even though the only person who could hear him was Scott, who was still busy eating dirt.
“To be hanged.” Or not. To his credit, Stiles didn’t shriek, “Apparently he had a very good time.”
And if his pockets were lacking a few hundred pounds by the end of the day, well that? That, he was totally going to blame on Scott.