Being lost is okay

I got time (11)

"Mischief," a soft voice said.

"Mischief!" The voice was still soft but it became louder.

"Wake up." Stiles pried his eyes open to see a bright blue sky.

"There you are!" Pan exclaimed, widely smirking. "Have a nice nap did ya?" Stiles looked around, not recognizing his surroundings.

"Where are we?" Stiles asked. "Where's Henry! Where's Neal?"

"Questions questions," Pan tsk'ed, shaking his head.

"No," Stiles moved to his feet. "You are going to answer my questions!"

"Am I?" Pan mocked.

"Yeah, you will," Stiles said.

"I don't think so," Pan said, dangerously calm. Pan turned and started to walk.

"Hey!" Stiles yelled. "Where the hell are you going?" Pan didn't answer. Stiles ran after him because as much as he would like to deny it, he needed Pan to survive.

The duo walked for what seemed like hours. One knew where he was going, the other was hopeless and confused. Stiles attempted to remember all the twists and turns they were making but he slowly gave up. Stiles was so caught up in his directions that he rammed right into the back of Pan. Pan however, didn't even stumble by the extra weight. Stiles quickly stood upright and shuffled around Pan.

"What are we doing here?" Stiles broke the silence.

"You should care more," Pan replied.

"Excuse me?" Stiles snapped his head towards Pan. "Repeat that one more time."

"You," Pan turned to face Stiles. "Should care more." Stiles was furious. Care? Care more?!

"Let me tell you something, Peter," Stiles poked Pan's chest. "If anything, I care too much. So don't you dare tell me I need to care more." Pan smirked.

"There it is."

"What?" Stiles barked.

"Passion." Pan smiled. "I'd thought you'd lost yours."

Stiles moved away from Pan. He began walking in the opposite direction of Pan.

"How do you find your way in here?" Stiles mused.

"Close your eyes," Stiles turned to glare at Pan making the fairytail hold his hands up. "Just do it."

Stiles huffed but did as he was told.

"Do you hear the birds?" Stiles almost let a sarcastic remark slip but caught it at the last second. He nodded. "Where are they? How many are there?"

Stiles scrunched his forehead, concentrating.

"Four in the tree overlooking the lake, three on the tree to the right," Stiles replied.

"Can you hear the frogs?" Stiles nodded. "Focus on something else. Instead of what you can hear. What can you smell?"

"Pine. It smells like cut grass which is impossible because I don't think one of the chores for lost boys is cutting the grass. Not that you guys even have a lawn mower.  I have ADHD did I mention that?" Pan chuckled.

"What else? What can you feel?" Stiles focused once again.

"The ground underneath my feet. It's vibrating. It feels like it's breathing. It's soft yet tough, resilient. There's a breeze, soft yet cold. It keeps things moving, keeps things alive. I hear your breathing." Stiles opened his eyes only to meet bright blue ones. The two boys were close, feeling each other's body heat but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was oddly familiar.

"Why am I here, Pan?" Stiles sighed.

"That, my friend, is a very long story," Pan smiled.

"Well, apparently, we don't age here. I got time."

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