[ Being brought to the shatterdome located in Los Angeles was kind of like a dream come true for Stiles Stilinski. After the loss of his mother and his hometown, his father had gained a job with the military police force of the major city, and while he'd told Stiles not to even think about getting involved, he'd sent in his college thesis to the R&D department; namely, his work in kaiju blood and the possibilities of finding a cure through, you know, hair of the dog that bit you.
So that was how he found himself here, walking into the shatterdome and craning his head up to stare at the jaegers as he walked by. These are the kind of things that he and Scott used to talk about piloting together, but Scott had found his calling working in the big cities in the middle of the country with his mom. Stiles missed him more than pretty much everything in the world, but he and his father had been the one to fund the McCalls moving away from California, to keep them safe.
At the moment, he's standing in the main room with his cellphone out, taking a picture of an old, famous jaeger; Loup Garou, piloted by two of Beacon Hills' finest before a terrible battle had left the female pilot dead and the mech damaged. It was slowly being repaired, though, set to be sent out in a couple days, once they found a partner for the last remaining pilot, Derek Hale himself.
Stiles cranes his head back and snaps a picture. Scott would be shitting himself right now. ]
[ John Cheese-- an alias if there ever was one-- wasn't exactly the head of the program in the LA shatterdome, but for some reason he was the one that wound up getting his hands on everything. Probably because he got his nose into everything, and, despite his general mannerisms befitting the R&D department, everybody was especially fond of him in some way. Charisma or something, he didn't really care. He was just John, that was his thing.
But there was one bit of information that was sent in to their particular corner of the coast that had his interest pique, and he poured over the thesis from the moment that he'd seen the cover page. Which led to him issuing a request to please please please bring the college kid into the program, because he wanted to see what he could do with an actual lab at his disposal and not a slowly deteriorating college campus lab with limited funding.
He makes his way in a flurry of movement, dressed so casually he would blend in on the street instead of in the military compound, eyes scanning the Jaeger bay. When he first arrived, it'd been his initial destination, too-- sending pictures to Dave and Amy, over in Ohio where he'd sent them.
He looks at the picture he's paperclipped to his papers, looks around again, and then grins something wide as he makes his way over towards Stiles. ]
[ Stiles jumps when somebody calls his name, and he turns to see...not exactly who he was expecting. That had to be John, which meant John wasn't military brass like his dad, and drew his attention like a beacon, someone kind of normal in this place full of dress uniforms and plugsuits.
Nearly dropping his phone at the startle, though, Stiles just manages to hit send and tucks it into his pocket, trying to make himself look sort of official. Honestly, it didn't really work; he was wearing a superman t-shirt and a plaid shirt that looked sort of clean, and his hair was probably even more of a bird's nest than usual, but whatever, Stiles was going to stand up straight anyway. ]
Uh--yeah, the one and only. [ And reflexively, he adds: ] Call me Stiles. [ Because if he had to listen to one more military person call him by his real name he was going to explode. ] You must be Mr. Cheese. [ And yeah, okay, he sure does grin at that. Lol mister Cheese. ]
[ John cackles a little as Stiles jumps and fumbles, slipping his clipboard under an arm before extending his hand towards him. His shoulders are relaxed, and his expression is amusedly crooked rather than anything militaristic. He's not even a doctor, though somehow he's gotten himself planted in the PPDC rather firmly, and he's perfectly fine with that. ]
Just John is fine, Stiles. You'll find some of the docs here are anal as hell about getting addressed right, but I'm just a volunteer that climbed the totem pole.
[ He pauses almost thoughtfully for a second, tilting his head and pursing his lips before the grin is back in full force. Overall, his hair is just as untidy, there's a pair of hipster-esque glasses dangling from his shirt collar, and, well. He's sporting a graphic tee of his own, though there's a cartoonish series of Jaegers doing the robot across the chest (Garou included). ]
The brass, too, but figure you already knew that one.
[ All anyone in the shatterdome's been able to talk about for the past two days is the recommissioning of Loup Garou. It's old but not ancient, newly redesigned with a nuclear analogue core, more clips for her plasma cannons, and a more intuitive master control panel, after the destruction from her last battle had completely destroyed her left side. Stiles knew all this by heart; from tailing John and bothering him for information, Stiles has been watching the Loup Garou program like a hawk since his first day here. At the moment, he's heading over with his "supervisor" (if you could actually call John a supervising figure) to watch Derek throw down with his potential candidates. The rules were simple; four taps, and you win.
He and John have secured a spot behind a couple of crates on the other side of the field, where their marshal is currently waiting, and a tuft of dark hair peeks out over the top as Stiles stares at the fights about to happen. ] These guys are all handpicked to fight along that guy? He's like a freakin' tank.
It's funny, because he didn't used to be that big. He gained like, eighty, hundred pounds in muscle mass after... [ John waves a hand from where he's positioned much like Stiles is, peering over the crate and drumming his fingers on the top of it. Derek Hale, he remembers, used to smile and laugh a lot. Especially around his sisters-- the lovely and hilarious and quite charming Laura of the military police, and the feisty fireball budding engineer Cora-- and his copilot, his high school sweetheart. But after losing her in the battle with a Knifehead, well...
He got imposing. And reclusive. And abrasive. Not that any of those things stop John from talking to him, but he's been an almost-in-law for ages now. He sort of has an in with the Hales.
He audibly winces with a hiss as Derek knocks his first contender flat on their face with a well-placed strike between the shoulders when they attempt to go for his ribs, pole staff tapping the crown of their head. ]
........god that fucking sounds like a pokemon i hate everything
[ That looked like it hurt. Stiles winces a little in sympathy for the poor dude, and tries to focus on what John said instead. He can remember the incident; remembers the little vigil they'd had in Beacon Hills for the girl'd passed away. And if he imagines Derek Hale, he thinks of the teenager he'd seen on TV in interviews, quiet but still charming, a hometown hero at his finest, not quite the man-slash-tank currently earning three points in rapid fire succession and sending the first recruit crying home to mommy.
If you heard a quiet giggle from somewhere in the back, that would have been the hilarious and quite charming Laura, who may have noticed John's oh so clever hiding place, and wiggled her fingers in his direction. Hay boo. ]
Jesus, I wouldn't wanna be that guy. [ Meanwhile, Stiles rests his elbow on the crate and watches the next guy come up. ] So all of these dudes were handpicked to try and go up against Hale, right? [ After a third goes down, he wrinkles his nose. ] Why do they all blow?
[ As one of the youngest Jaeger rangers, Derek had been a superstar for the whole nation, really. And Beacon Hills was proud to call him theirs, even after Paige's death. But John remembers the quiet that fell over the Hales, nevermind the fucking agony that came with the fire of the Hale home somewhere amongst all the already existing tragedy.
So the fact that Derek is doing this at all is shocking, to say the least. He can only imagine how much baggage he'd carry with him into the drift.
Laura's laugh is like a homing beacon-- it was how they met, so of course he'd catch it-- and John grins wide at her, making a smoochy face before he raises his eyebrows at her and looks at Stiles again. ]
Closest the marshal could get to compatibility, but, well. Derek's experienced, but he's got a particular rhythm. None of these dudes are on the same rhythm, and it's turning into a curbstomping instead of synchronization.
[ It would be an understatement to say that the entire shatterdome was still talking about the ""fight"" between Derek Hale and 'Stiles' Stilinski. It would also be an understatement to say that the ranger's younger sister had been on the prowl for the researcher, between her tasks on the repair crew for Garou. Cora knew he'd be in the labs, but she was waiting to catch him away from his supervisor/her sister's boyfriend, preferring to corner him so she could talk to him without the familiar air John brought with him.
She takes her chance in the mess hall, spotting the newly familiar nest of brown hair and the plaid he wrapped himself in.
Jumpsuit unzipped all the way to her belt, the sleeves tied around her waist and her goggles around her neck, smudged with oil and grease along her cheek and arms and collar where her tank was exposed, she... certainly fills out the image that the Hale family portrays in the 'dome. She marches over without hesitation to where Stiles is stuffing his face, calmly dropping down across from him with her tray.
Peter and Laura may have blue eyes, Derek... whatever the hell they were, and Cora brown, but there was that ever familiar piercing stare all four of them shared, too. ]
[ Stiles is trying his best to do a damn good job of staying on a low radar. After getting yelled at and then receiving one of his dad's tightest hugs--not to mention an "I'm proud of you" that made his chest clench up at the thought--he's pretty determined not to ruffle any more feathers in the shatterdome until things have calmed down.
But things probably aren't going to settle. He's going to be training with Derek for the next week, with a goal of testing a drift on Sunday. Seven days from today, Stiles was going to Vulcan mindmeld with someone. Literally. The thought made him want to puke, from nerves or excitement or possibly both. At the moment, he's just trying hard not to think about it too much, and he's got his nose in a book of records on death from kaiju blue, and that's when Cora Hale slams her tray down.
Stiles jumps about half a foot in the air and locks eyes with her, going from comically startled to confused to slightly terrified all in one facial expression, and he manages to snap his jaw shut and mutter, ] Never thought getting a girl to sit with me at lunch would go quite like this.
Surprise. [ Cora doesn't pretend to be sweet like Laura does when she wants something, or when she's letting someone know they've fucked up. She's sardonic like Derek, tone dry yet amused as she focuses her attention on the wide-eyed stare that Stiles is offering. She calmly picks up her bread from the tray, tearing it in quarters with her fingers as she watches him, almost calculating. Sort of like a predator determining whether to consider something prey or not.
She absently dips her bread in her soup, finally looking down as she begins eating. She's in no real rush, though she's completely prepared to pin Stiles with a hard stare if he tries to go anywhere. There are questions she wants to ask, answers that she needs, for Derek. Before they try to drift, before he even enters training with him. ]
I'm not going to bite you. [ Looking up at him from under her brow, she pops the bread into her mouth. ] You can stop looking at me like that.
[ Oh my god he's so dead. He's staring at her ripping the bread up and just knows she's probably imagining rendering Stiles' flesh. Cora could kick his ass sideways, backwards and forwards, to be perfectly honest, and he'd probably be strangely okay with that.
Taking a tentative bite of his sandwich, he chews it like he's giving himself time to think and not say something completely stupid. This is a dangerous game here. These Hales are terrifying--even Laura, who seems bubbly and bright and is dating John, but has this weird way of looking at him that makes him think she's going to chew him up and spit him out.
Hales.
Swallowing, finally, he raises his eyebrows at her. ] Bite me, no. Kick my ass, probably. [ It is a joke, at least, and he manages a little smile, hoping to...maybe break the tension. ]
[ The entire Shatterdome was officially abuzz as the two rangers serving on Loup Garou had disappeared for the first of several practice drift sessions before they were allowed to get in the Jaeger herself. Garou was almost fixed--Cora was hard at work on it as Laura made her way down the hallway--but most of the MPs were kept busy with everything else under the sun, as far away from Garou and her crew as humanly possible.
It's Laura's lunch break, and after peeking into the main deck, only to be shut out and unable to see anything no matter how many times she flashes her high ranking badge, so her second option was to bring some lunch to her boyfriend-slash-someday-eventually-probably-fiancee/husband-if-they-didn't-die. (Title: Laura's.) And by bring some lunch, she meant bring John some lunch, listen to his findings, ask about Stiles, and fool around for a little bit.
Right, so, perfect lunch. The MP makes her way into the research department and bumps the door open with her hip. ]
I'm looking for a Dr. Cheese. [ Laura puts on her Police Officer Voice; John's not a doctor, she's been here a million times, but this shtick never really gets old. ]
[ It wasn't very often that John actually got out of the the research department, if only because he secluded himself there voluntarily. Sure, he managed to attend the assorted if brief celebrations held after victories, or during birthdays and holidays when a Kaiju wasn't trying to rip apart humanity. But most of his time was spent elbow-deep in Kaiju remains.
He managed to make his way out of the labs a few times to see Garou, whistling at the impressive progress made in the past couple days as led by his tiny almost-sister-in-law as she ripped through every diagnostic check until it was perfect. They wouldn't be heading out on any missions yet, not with the rangers getting adjusted to one another first, but he felt it wouldn't be long. When Stiles was in the lab, he wouldn't shut up about it.
But with Stiles not there, John doesn't think to leave his research, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with his chin propped on the back of it as he types away. Laura is, essentially, a godsend. His wolfish angel in uniform.
Swiveling his chair instead of turning his head to look at her, he grins wide. ] What can I do for you, officer?
[ A smile breaks across her face, and Laura produces a tupperware from behind her back. She's not in the business of making lunch (and that should be a godsend to anyone who knows her), but Laura can at least bring things from the caf with zero to no effort, and she gives it a little shake. ] I brought something for your good behavior.
[ Breezing across the room past a couple of the other scientists, Laura greets them with a wave and makes her way to John's desk, dodging around a table full of various kaiju parts with practiced efforts, and stopping in front him with her hands on her hips, police officer voice still very much on. ] So long as you haven't been violating probation, that is.
[ After a week of physical training, trying to get Stiles prepared for the day that he climbed into the Conn-Pod-- Derek believed he would, there was no if he climbed into it-- it came the time of their first drift test. Typically they were held in the Jaegers themselves, so that you could feel the weight of the bond between your copilot and machine, but there were some things that had Derek fighting against that. One: Garou hadn't been fully repaired yet, and Cora would kill him for disrupting the repair crew's work. Two: he was carrying so much baggage into the Drift that it would be more than dangerous to attempt a neural handshake with an inexperienced ranger.
To say that he's nervous about that would be an absolute lie. Even in a test run, it's still the Drift. It's still sharing everything with someone that he had only just met, regardless of the connection that sparked between them. He hadn't had something like that since Paige, not something real and true like what was between him and the researcher. If he could just compartmentalize every single ounce of baggage that he knew would come with him into the Drift, set it aside in a place Stiles didn't have to deal with, he would have been thrilled.
But still, he was willing to try again after years of refusing to Drift with anyone again, staying determinedly in inactive duty until his uncle had made it clear that Loup Garou was being recommissioned, with or without him.
You don't just give up your Jaeger without a fight.
Trying to ease his nerves a little, he manages a shower a while before he and Stiles are supposed to head in to get suited up, and thinks about spending the remaining time milling around his quarters listlessly. Nothing holds his attention, and he finds himself toweling at his hair repeatedly until it's fluffed up in a facsimile of his usual hairstyle, too distracted to really pay it any mind. Stiles has been asking him questions, but he has a feeling he hasn't asked the ones he really wants answers to.
[ The phrase "drift test" has come out of Stiles' mouth precisely 134 times since he woke up on Monday morning, and the test was scheduled for Wednesday evening. Despite the huge pile of research on his desk, Stiles hadn't been able to focus on anything but the upcoming drift, and he'd probably driven his coworker/boss/closest in-dome friend absolutely nuts with it, but he couldn't find it in himself to care. Every few hours it was one thing or another, and every night when he went to bed, he'd lay awake for a couple hours and imagine what it was going to be like.
Which led to a lot of questions. Stiles wasn't concerned about drifting with Derek because he knew the risk. He knew the baggage (or at least he thought he did), and he'd done his fair share of research on Derek, whether by asking him or looking through files instead of Kaiju biometrics. And frankly, Stiles had baggage of his own, too, and lots of it--he knew the guy was tough, knew he'd taken the hand he'd been dealt, but Stiles wasn't sure how much longer it would take for him to crack. Honestly? He didn't want to think about it. His own guilt and panic and thoughts of his mom are buried so far deep that the drift will be the first time they've been out in the light for eight or so years, and Stiles tries to shake the memory, making his way down the hallway as the clocks start to tick towards 1800 hours, their meeting time.
He pauses near the room that he knows is Derek, dead stopped in the middle of the hallway, then backtracks to his room. His curiosity knows few bounds, and that's why Stiles walks up and peeps in the peephole, trying to see what Derek's doing. ]
[ Thankfully John had not decided to throw him off the main deck of the shatterdome and into the Pacific Ocean for the Kaiju to deal with. Instead, he had just laughed and laughed every time Stiles brought up the drift test, whereas...
Well, Derek hadn't talked to a single person about the upcoming test. Not his sisters, not his uncle. No one. In fact, it'd seemed more like he had become even more reclusive in regards to the entire dome, and only really talked to his sisters in passing while most of his attention had honed in on Stiles. Whenever they wound up in the same place, or Stiles sought him out, or Derek had inadvertently tracked him down without quite realizing it, it was the only time he really talked to anybody, nevermind talking about the testing.
Still, he found himself inevitably answering questions that he shot at him, or adding to whatever rambling tangent he found himself embarking on.
It was strangely easier to focus on answering those questions than it was for him to really think about what they were getting themselves into. Cora had said that the drift test would be difficult, though not in the way that half the dome was expecting. Just that it... would hit home, she'd told him flat out. And he'd simply accepted that, and tried to ignore the ache that came with the silence he'd felt for the past eight years, the fire that had burned out the heart of him not all that long after.
Almost as if sensing that he's being watched, he grabs hold of a shirt off his bunk and tosses his towel over the back of a chair, going to the door and opening it. The front-on view clearly shows the level of circuitry scarring along his torso, mostly focused on his lefthand side-- how those injuries hadn't killed him due to damage to the heart was a goddamn miracle-- but he's more focused on the teen at his "stoop," a brow raised at him. ]
[ Getting your first Kaiju kill is one of those things that Stiles can't really describe in words. The adrenaline, the shock, the feeling of victory, that rush he got when it finally fell, the way he made Garou's (and by proxy, Derek's) arms go up in the air afterwards in his celebration--it was so much that he could barely handle it all. Stiles had come back and eagerly fielded skype calls from his overly excited best friend working in the midcountry and a fierce hug and a clap on the back from his dad, and spent much of the day recounting the stories over and over, how he and Derek had succeeded in the drift with flying colors.
But when the day's over, everything just feels sort of empty. It's been in the back of his mind all day--this feeling like he was missing something. Stiles had spent all day in Derek's head, and it felt weird to even be away from him, even while he was lying in bed, staring at the roof of his little dorm room. So it's close to three in the morning, when the shatterdome is mostly silent, that there's a knock on the dorm across the way. Stiles kind of feels like an idiot, in his boxers and his Garou shirt, so if Derek doesn't answer in the next like five minutes he's gonna peace out and call himself crazy. ]
[ It had been so long, since Derek was last in combat. He'd been down in ground zero for multiple attacks on California, helping people in the midst of chaos, but it was different being on eye level with the monsters again. Maybe it'd been years since he commanded a Jaeger, but it was so easy to just fall in step again, as if Garou remembered him, too, and accepted her new copilot with just as much ease. Fighting with Stiles at his side was literally like they were one entity, so in sync and seamless.
(He could only laugh when Stiles threw their arms up.)
And then there was the separation. In all of the excitement, the adrenaline and the rush, the victory, he'd almost forgotten about it. But years after drifting with another person, especially in a Jaeger during combat, and then suddenly doing it again with someone you discovered so much chemistry with? It struck hard, the moment that the connection was taken away. He'd spent the better part of the day just wanting to reach out and touch Stiles, even if all he could do was curl his fingers around his wrist. But he kept his hands to himself, even with the empty ache. It wasn't painful, but it was longing. There were people around them all the way up until they'd finally gone to their quarters, and yet he just felt alone again.
Still does, at three in the morning. At least until he hears the knock, swinging his legs around so he can get off his bunk and move to open the door. ] ... Stiles.
[ Oh fuck, now he has to say something, doesn't he? There's a surge of warm affection that practically socks him in the chest the minute Derek opens the door, because he sounds--happy to see him, almost? Maybe Derek was feeling the exact same thing that Stiles was, after all.
(Or at least in some degrees. Stiles tends to fall for people hard and fast, and being literally in said person's brain for several hours doesn't really help that fact at all.)
Feeling a little self conscious, he flushes at the ears and drops his arms down, tugging on the edge of his shirt to keep and down and trying to not look the bumbling idiot he kind of feels like. A part of him wants to just reach out and touch, anywhere, anyhow, and yet another part wants to run back to his room and forget this ever happened until Derek forgot it happened too. But he puts on a small, kind of lopsided smile, because one side beats out the other, and starts out a little awkwardly. ] I, uh. My bed's hella uncomfortable. This standard issue thing's gotta change now that we're celebrities, right?
[ #nailed it
He doesn't sound remotely entitled or anything. Just sheepish. Maybe a little nervous. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
day one aw yeah
So that was how he found himself here, walking into the shatterdome and craning his head up to stare at the jaegers as he walked by. These are the kind of things that he and Scott used to talk about piloting together, but Scott had found his calling working in the big cities in the middle of the country with his mom. Stiles missed him more than pretty much everything in the world, but he and his father had been the one to fund the McCalls moving away from California, to keep them safe.
At the moment, he's standing in the main room with his cellphone out, taking a picture of an old, famous jaeger; Loup Garou, piloted by two of Beacon Hills' finest before a terrible battle had left the female pilot dead and the mech damaged. It was slowly being repaired, though, set to be sent out in a couple days, once they found a partner for the last remaining pilot, Derek Hale himself.
Stiles cranes his head back and snaps a picture. Scott would be shitting himself right now. ]
swoops in
But there was one bit of information that was sent in to their particular corner of the coast that had his interest pique, and he poured over the thesis from the moment that he'd seen the cover page. Which led to him issuing a request to please please please bring the college kid into the program, because he wanted to see what he could do with an actual lab at his disposal and not a slowly deteriorating college campus lab with limited funding.
He makes his way in a flurry of movement, dressed so casually he would blend in on the street instead of in the military compound, eyes scanning the Jaeger bay. When he first arrived, it'd been his initial destination, too-- sending pictures to Dave and Amy, over in Ohio where he'd sent them.
He looks at the picture he's paperclipped to his papers, looks around again, and then grins something wide as he makes his way over towards Stiles. ]
Stilinski!
swoon
Nearly dropping his phone at the startle, though, Stiles just manages to hit send and tucks it into his pocket, trying to make himself look sort of official. Honestly, it didn't really work; he was wearing a superman t-shirt and a plaid shirt that looked sort of clean, and his hair was probably even more of a bird's nest than usual, but whatever, Stiles was going to stand up straight anyway. ]
Uh--yeah, the one and only. [ And reflexively, he adds: ] Call me Stiles. [ Because if he had to listen to one more military person call him by his real name he was going to explode. ] You must be Mr. Cheese. [ And yeah, okay, he sure does grin at that. Lol mister Cheese. ]
come along kouhai.
Just John is fine, Stiles. You'll find some of the docs here are anal as hell about getting addressed right, but I'm just a volunteer that climbed the totem pole.
[ He pauses almost thoughtfully for a second, tilting his head and pursing his lips before the grin is back in full force. Overall, his hair is just as untidy, there's a pair of hipster-esque glasses dangling from his shirt collar, and, well. He's sporting a graphic tee of his own, though there's a cartoonish series of Jaegers doing the robot across the chest (Garou included). ]
The brass, too, but figure you already knew that one.
(◡‿◡✿)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
aand pickin a partner day
and bothering him for information, Stiles has been watching the Loup Garou program like a hawk since his first day here. At the moment, he's heading over with his "supervisor" (if you could actually call John a supervising figure) to watch Derek throw down with his potential candidates. The rules were simple; four taps, and you win.He and John have secured a spot behind a couple of crates on the other side of the field, where their marshal is currently waiting, and a tuft of dark hair peeks out over the top as Stiles stares at the fights about to happen. ] These guys are all handpicked to fight along that guy? He's like a freakin' tank.
I CHOOSE U MIESZKO
He got imposing. And reclusive. And abrasive. Not that any of those things stop John from talking to him, but he's been an almost-in-law for ages now. He sort of has an in with the Hales.
He audibly winces with a hiss as Derek knocks his first contender flat on their face with a well-placed strike between the shoulders when they attempt to go for his ribs, pole staff tapping the crown of their head. ]
........god that fucking sounds like a pokemon i hate everything
If you heard a quiet giggle from somewhere in the back, that would have been the hilarious and quite charming Laura, who may have noticed John's oh so clever hiding place, and wiggled her fingers in his direction. Hay boo. ]
Jesus, I wouldn't wanna be that guy. [ Meanwhile, Stiles rests his elbow on the crate and watches the next guy come up. ] So all of these dudes were handpicked to try and go up against Hale, right? [ After a third goes down, he wrinkles his nose. ] Why do they all blow?
You picked it.
So the fact that Derek is doing this at all is shocking, to say the least. He can only imagine how much baggage he'd carry with him into the drift.
Laura's laugh is like a homing beacon-- it was how they met, so of course he'd catch it-- and John grins wide at her, making a smoochy face before he raises his eyebrows at her and looks at Stiles again. ]
Closest the marshal could get to compatibility, but, well. Derek's experienced, but he's got a particular rhythm. None of these dudes are on the same rhythm, and it's turning into a curbstomping instead of synchronization.
[ And there's another 4-0, Jesus. ]
I know I did it on purpose
Bless.
if i can't type the accents on my special keyboard you know that shit's hard
LMF P MUCH
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
no subject
She takes her chance in the mess hall, spotting the newly familiar nest of brown hair and the plaid he wrapped himself in.
Jumpsuit unzipped all the way to her belt, the sleeves tied around her waist and her goggles around her neck, smudged with oil and grease along her cheek and arms and collar where her tank was exposed, she... certainly fills out the image that the Hale family portrays in the 'dome. She marches over without hesitation to where Stiles is stuffing his face, calmly dropping down across from him with her tray.
Peter and Laura may have blue eyes, Derek... whatever the hell they were, and Cora brown, but there was that ever familiar piercing stare all four of them shared, too. ]
no subject
But things probably aren't going to settle. He's going to be training with Derek for the next week, with a goal of testing a drift on Sunday. Seven days from today, Stiles was going to Vulcan mindmeld with someone. Literally. The thought made him want to puke, from nerves or excitement or possibly both. At the moment, he's just trying hard not to think about it too much, and he's got his nose in a book of records on death from kaiju blue, and that's when Cora Hale slams her tray down.
Stiles jumps about half a foot in the air and locks eyes with her, going from comically startled to confused to slightly terrified all in one facial expression, and he manages to snap his jaw shut and mutter, ] Never thought getting a girl to sit with me at lunch would go quite like this.
no subject
She absently dips her bread in her soup, finally looking down as she begins eating. She's in no real rush, though she's completely prepared to pin Stiles with a hard stare if he tries to go anywhere. There are questions she wants to ask, answers that she needs, for Derek. Before they try to drift, before he even enters training with him. ]
I'm not going to bite you. [ Looking up at him from under her brow, she pops the bread into her mouth. ] You can stop looking at me like that.
no subject
Taking a tentative bite of his sandwich, he chews it like he's giving himself time to think and not say something completely stupid. This is a dangerous game here. These Hales are terrifying--even Laura, who seems bubbly and bright and is dating John, but has this weird way of looking at him that makes him think she's going to chew him up and spit him out.
Hales.
Swallowing, finally, he raises his eyebrows at her. ] Bite me, no. Kick my ass, probably. [ It is a joke, at least, and he manages a little smile, hoping to...maybe break the tension. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
and now for something completely different
yet still awesome
aw yeah
[ it's okay, if you could see the look on her face right now. ]
qt lesbians
basically
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
AND SOMETHING ELSE DIFFERENT
It's Laura's lunch break, and after peeking into the main deck, only to be shut out and unable to see anything no matter how many times she flashes her high ranking badge, so her second option was to bring some lunch to her boyfriend-slash-someday-eventually-probably-fiancee/husband-if-they-didn't-die. (Title: Laura's.) And by bring some lunch, she meant bring John some lunch, listen to his findings, ask about Stiles, and fool around for a little bit.
Right, so, perfect lunch. The MP makes her way into the research department and bumps the door open with her hip. ]
I'm looking for a Dr. Cheese. [ Laura puts on her Police Officer Voice; John's not a doctor, she's been here a million times, but this shtick never really gets old. ]
BUT STILL GOOD
He managed to make his way out of the labs a few times to see Garou, whistling at the impressive progress made in the past couple days as led by his tiny almost-sister-in-law as she ripped through every diagnostic check until it was perfect. They wouldn't be heading out on any missions yet, not with the rangers getting adjusted to one another first, but he felt it wouldn't be long. When Stiles was in the lab, he wouldn't shut up about it.
But with Stiles not there, John doesn't think to leave his research, sitting backwards in his swivel chair with his chin propped on the back of it as he types away. Laura is, essentially, a godsend. His wolfish angel in uniform.
Swiveling his chair instead of turning his head to look at her, he grins wide. ] What can I do for you, officer?
HELL YEAH
[ Breezing across the room past a couple of the other scientists, Laura greets them with a wave and makes her way to John's desk, dodging around a table full of various kaiju parts with practiced efforts, and stopping in front him with her hands on her hips, police officer voice still very much on. ] So long as you haven't been violating probation, that is.
HALECHEESES
hale to the cheese bb
awww yisss
(no subject)
(no subject)
AND SO.
To say that he's nervous about that would be an absolute lie. Even in a test run, it's still the Drift. It's still sharing everything with someone that he had only just met, regardless of the connection that sparked between them. He hadn't had something like that since Paige, not something real and true like what was between him and the researcher. If he could just compartmentalize every single ounce of baggage that he knew would come with him into the Drift, set it aside in a place Stiles didn't have to deal with, he would have been thrilled.
But still, he was willing to try again after years of refusing to Drift with anyone again, staying determinedly in inactive duty until his uncle had made it clear that Loup Garou was being recommissioned, with or without him.
You don't just give up your Jaeger without a fight.
Trying to ease his nerves a little, he manages a shower a while before he and Stiles are supposed to head in to get suited up, and thinks about spending the remaining time milling around his quarters listlessly. Nothing holds his attention, and he finds himself toweling at his hair repeatedly until it's fluffed up in a facsimile of his usual hairstyle, too distracted to really pay it any mind. Stiles has been asking him questions, but he has a feeling he hasn't asked the ones he really wants answers to.
He's waiting for more than just the drift test. ]
AW YEAH
Which led to a lot of questions. Stiles wasn't concerned about drifting with Derek because he knew the risk. He knew the baggage (or at least he thought he did), and he'd done his fair share of research on Derek, whether by asking him or looking through files instead of Kaiju biometrics. And frankly, Stiles had baggage of his own, too, and lots of it--he knew the guy was tough, knew he'd taken the hand he'd been dealt, but Stiles wasn't sure how much longer it would take for him to crack. Honestly? He didn't want to think about it. His own guilt and panic and thoughts of his mom are buried so far deep that the drift will be the first time they've been out in the light for eight or so years, and Stiles tries to shake the memory, making his way down the hallway as the clocks start to tick towards 1800 hours, their meeting time.
He pauses near the room that he knows is Derek, dead stopped in the middle of the hallway, then backtracks to his room. His curiosity knows few bounds, and that's why Stiles walks up and peeps in the peephole, trying to see what Derek's doing. ]
Stiles.
Well, Derek hadn't talked to a single person about the upcoming test. Not his sisters, not his uncle. No one. In fact, it'd seemed more like he had become even more reclusive in regards to the entire dome, and only really talked to his sisters in passing while most of his attention had honed in on Stiles. Whenever they wound up in the same place, or Stiles sought him out, or Derek had inadvertently tracked him down without quite realizing it, it was the only time he really talked to anybody, nevermind talking about the testing.
Still, he found himself inevitably answering questions that he shot at him, or adding to whatever rambling tangent he found himself embarking on.
It was strangely easier to focus on answering those questions than it was for him to really think about what they were getting themselves into. Cora had said that the drift test would be difficult, though not in the way that half the dome was expecting. Just that it... would hit home, she'd told him flat out. And he'd simply accepted that, and tried to ignore the ache that came with the silence he'd felt for the past eight years, the fire that had burned out the heart of him not all that long after.
Almost as if sensing that he's being watched, he grabs hold of a shirt off his bunk and tosses his towel over the back of a chair, going to the door and opening it. The front-on view clearly shows the level of circuitry scarring along his torso, mostly focused on his lefthand side-- how those injuries hadn't killed him due to damage to the heart was a goddamn miracle-- but he's more focused on the teen at his "stoop," a brow raised at him. ]
SHHH
cackles
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
THIS IS A PLACEHOLDER FOR THE KAIJU FIGHTING.....
｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡ ]
ok so velcroing
But when the day's over, everything just feels sort of empty. It's been in the back of his mind all day--this feeling like he was missing something. Stiles had spent all day in Derek's head, and it felt weird to even be away from him, even while he was lying in bed, staring at the roof of his little dorm room. So it's close to three in the morning, when the shatterdome is mostly silent, that there's a knock on the dorm across the way. Stiles kind of feels like an idiot, in his boxers and his Garou shirt, so if Derek doesn't answer in the next like five minutes he's gonna peace out and call himself crazy. ]
BRACE FOR FEELS.
(He could only laugh when Stiles threw their arms up.)
And then there was the separation. In all of the excitement, the adrenaline and the rush, the victory, he'd almost forgotten about it. But years after drifting with another person, especially in a Jaeger during combat, and then suddenly doing it again with someone you discovered so much chemistry with? It struck hard, the moment that the connection was taken away. He'd spent the better part of the day just wanting to reach out and touch Stiles, even if all he could do was curl his fingers around his wrist. But he kept his hands to himself, even with the empty ache. It wasn't painful, but it was longing. There were people around them all the way up until they'd finally gone to their quarters, and yet he just felt alone again.
Still does, at three in the morning. At least until he hears the knock, swinging his legs around so he can get off his bunk and move to open the door. ] ... Stiles.
uwu
(Or at least in some degrees. Stiles tends to fall for people hard and fast, and being literally in said person's brain for several hours doesn't really help that fact at all.)
Feeling a little self conscious, he flushes at the ears and drops his arms down, tugging on the edge of his shirt to keep and down and trying to not look the bumbling idiot he kind of feels like. A part of him wants to just reach out and touch, anywhere, anyhow, and yet another part wants to run back to his room and forget this ever happened until Derek forgot it happened too. But he puts on a small, kind of lopsided smile, because one side beats out the other, and starts out a little awkwardly. ] I, uh. My bed's hella uncomfortable. This standard issue thing's gotta change now that we're celebrities, right?
[ #nailed it
He doesn't sound remotely entitled or anything. Just sheepish. Maybe a little nervous. ]
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)