[ 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.
Jesus. I feel bad for them, they probably thought this was like their lucky day. [ Stiles lets out a low whistle as yet another recruit goes down. He's up to like ten now, and Derek's barely broken a sweat. It's like if he can't make that connection, he just shuts the other party down; unsurprising, brutally efficient, and hella good at his job.
Stiles falls quiet for a minute, glancing at John when he kissyfaces at Laura and rolling his eyes playfully before getting focused again. His gaze softens a little as he stares at Derek, perceptive brown eyes locked on his fighting form. Stiles isn't the best at it, but he's got at least a little bit of training, the right eye to see these kind of things, how to maybe dodge, how to get him down on the ground.
Stiles maybe starts to get a crazy idea in his head while he's suddenly hyperfocused on Derek, while the world seems to quiet down to just the two of them. ]
Probably. From what I've heard on the grapevine, people've been jumping at the signups since news spread about Derek coming back. [ From what John's seen thus far, he's inclined to agree with Stiles: Derek is literally giving his opponents time to show whether they have potential or not, and then shutting them down the moment they show they don't. It's methodical, almost.
After Paige, though, he can understand why he's resistant to just anybody being made his copilot. You drift once, you drift for life, as far as he knows. He falls quiet as Stiles does, but splits his attention between one Beacon Hills native to the other, knowing already the silence of Stiles' hyperfocus. This'll be interesting.
All the while, Derek works his jaw a little, almost as if he's disappointed in the people entering the ring with him. He doesn't even look up to meet Cora's gaze from where she's standing at the front of the crowd, arms crossed and attention clearly focused on her brother as he taps the staff into the mat, waiting for his next candidate. ]
if i can't type the accents on my special keyboard you know that shit's hard
[ Before the next candidate gets up, Stiles makes his decision. He comes up from behind the crate in a scramble of limbs, and calls out: ]
Dude, you're making it look like you don't even want a drift partner. No wonder you're not gonna find anyone to empathize with you. [ Secretly, his heart is pounding, because Stiles sure did just out himself to the entire crowd--to his dad, who's hanging around in the back, he knows he is--but he holds his ground, taking a couple steps down from the stairs so he's just one outside the ring.
Laura's eyebrows shoot up, and she looks at John, then elbows Cora. That's her boyfriend's protege. ]
[ John stays right where he is, peering over the top of the crate and at Stiles, then Derek as his attention snaps to him, then back to his protege again. Oh yeah, this is gonna be interesting. He doesn't know either, Laura. They had done so well, hiding him from his father-- and he can see where the man is, from where he's given a cursory scan over the crowd-- and here, Stiles was exposing himself.
The Hale sisters have identical looks on their faces, and Cora gently pushes her hand against Laura's elbow to keep her from nudging at her again. She's not quite sure what to make of this, but she looks at their brother and...
Is surprised, actually. Derek looks at Stiles for a long moment in silence, before he slips his foot beneath the abandoned staff from his last opponent. Bunting it up and catching it, he inclines his head towards him. ] You want to give it a shot?
[ Stiles probably should have expected that to happen. The room falls dead silent for a moment, and he doesn't take his gaze off of Derek's as the rational part of his brain decides to check out for the day, and Stiles shucks off his sweatshirt and over shirt, kicking off his shoes and stepping into the arena.]
Depends, are you gonna give me a chance, or not? [ There's a vague challenge to his words, because Stiles' temper gets him into ridiculous situations like this all the time; when accompanied by his wit, razor sharp at worst, he ends up doing a lot of ridiculous shit he wasn't prepared for. Picking up the other staff, Stiles tosses it up and down experimentally, gives it a spin....and very nearly beans himself in the face.
Great.
Laura winces for the poor kid, and shakes her head at both Cora and John; this is gonna be brutal. ]
[ Cora immediately murmurs a the kid's dead under her breath to Laura, even before he nearly brains himself. The look she shoots her sister pretty much confirms exactly what she says, before she looks back at the arena and the pair within it. It's no surprise the marshal is allowing this to happen, considering that's just who he is, but... well, she hopes he doesn't die.
Shrugging helplessly, John does too. He likes Stiles. ]
If you don't knock yourself out first. [ Derek's tone is dry, expression neutral before he takes the staff and directs it to where Stiles is holding onto his own. It comes as just as much of a surprise as his initial comment did. ] Slide your hand down.
[ Why yes, he did just give him a pointer, before he spins with far more success and less possible concussions. ]
[ Stiles was not expecting that, and neither was most of the crowd. Feeling a little bit like an idiot, he slides his hand down, getting a firmer grip on the staff, and settles into a fighting position. He knows this much--knows tactics, knows a few moves from dicking around with his best friend and self defense with his cop father--but can he actually hold his own in a fight?
Yeah, no, Stiles is dead. He's agreeing.
Laura folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows at her brother. That's unusual, to say the absolute least; if she didn't know better, Laura would say he's interested in this kid. John had picked him for a reason, and it wasn't his fighting skills.
Well, time to put up or shut up.
Stiles, thinking the about same thing, looks at Derek, rocks back and forth, and pushes off his feet, aiming for the ribs. ]
[ Cora remembers when Paige died, same as everyone else, despite being pretty young compared to Laura and John and even her brother. And she remembers what her brother was like, before she did. This rings a little more true of it, actually opting to be helpful even in a situation where he'd benefit from the opposite. And that idea hurts a little, but she watches attentively, eyes narrowed.
Considering Stiles almost thoughtfully, despite the overall neutral expression, Derek sees a lot of openings in his stance. Things that could be changed. And he makes note of them, before taking his own stance, at least satisfied that his hold on the staff is better.
But as he comes at him, he moves and brings his own staff around, bringing it down to pin the end of Stiles' into the mat. But he taps the end into the side of Stiles' head, rather than immediately knocking him on his ass. ] Don't go for an opening that leaves you open.
[ Holy shit, Derek's fast. Stiles isn't really surprised--he shouldn't be, really, because it's Derek freakin' Hale, and sure enough, he rattles the pole hard enough that it jams down into the ground and Stiles jerks forward with it, down into a crouch and makes a grunting noise. He lifts his gaze to stare at Derek for a second, shocked.
Derek's helping him, though, and that? That's just weird. Stiles isn't going to let him take time to readjust, not while he can hear the Marshal's slightly smug "one point" in the background. The chances of him winning this are absolutely zero, but he's going to try his damndest anyway. Brown eyes are quick, calculating, and suddenly he uses the force from getting up into his crouch to sweep the pole across Derek's ankles, dropping lower to the ground to get more force behind the push. He's smaller than Derek, lighter, but if he can knock him off his feet, that doesn't matter so much, now does it?
Laura's jaw drops, and she's pretty much glued to the mat, for more reasons than one. Did that--any of that actually just happen? ]
[ There's the quiet knowledge in the back of his head that leaves Derek very much aware that the crowd is completely silent now, compared to the earlier wincing and commentary that came earlier. And he knows the cause of it, but he doesn't pay any attention to it. Just focuses on Stiles, watching him with green-gold eyes.
Cora scoots over a little as John weasels his way through the crowd and slots himself between her and Laura, grinning like a lunatic as she has an identical look to her sister. What.
And then there's the fact that Stiles manages to sweep Derek's feet out from beneath him. He doesn't bother trying to catch himself-- he's not going to windmill-- and it leaves his back hitting the mat with a heavy thud, but at least he keeps his head from bouncing when he lands.
Silence prevails a little longer, broken by a small chorus of holy shit, and then-- ] That was better.
[ The crowd isn't the only one shocked by what happened. Stiles had scrambled back up to his feet when Derek started to fall, and he had the staff in his face, panting a little, and staring at him intensely, like he hasn't snapped out of whatever the hell just happened--like his whole world's still focused on Derek.
It's then that the marshal, who'd boredly been staring at his nails, speaks up, and you can just hear the quirk of a grin in his voice-- ] Point.
[ --and Stiles snaps out of it, shock registering in his features because holy shit did that work, before he steps back a little, breaking into an unabashed grin as he tries to move back into the same fighting position, getting his staff ready.
Laura, meanwhile, will just be over here, trying to hide a smile, her hand over her mouth. Things just got interesting. She does lean to John and mumble, "Did you pick him for his fighting skills?" ]
[ Smoothly propelling himself back up to his feet once Stiles is snapped free of his focus, Derek ignores the tone of his uncle's voice as he dusts himself off. He bunts the staff back into his hand again with his foot, spinning it before snapping it parallel to his forearm, tucking it close to his ribs as he takes a fighting stance again himself.
He's essentially ignoring everyone outside of the mat, including the only remaining members of his family. His attention is, actually, completely and entirely on Stiles as he observes him. ] Again.
[ Cora also chooses to ignore family, letting Laura and John whisper to each other as she tries to assess the researcher, eying him as if it'll tell her all about him. Who the hell is this kid and what is Derek seeing?
"He has absolutely no coordination in the lab," is all John murmurs back to Laura, head bowed in towards her but eyes on his protege and grin still intact. ]
No, shit, sherlock, it's a four four match. [ But that just sounds like an aside, and Stiles takes another step forward, the staff turning in his hands; this part he knows, that it's useless without momentum, that the physics behind it are what separates this from being a kid fighting with a really big stick.
So this time, he goes low again, solar plexus instead of the ribs, thinking weak spots; any and all skills he has are A) learned from movies or B) learned self defense from his dad. That doesn't mean he's the greatest at applying himself, and he continues to leave himself open--but damn, he's trying, he's picking up, watching Derek move and trying to learn from it.
Laura snorts and mutters, "Most likely none out there, either.", because that had to be dumb luck. Didn't it? There was something weird about this kid, like...like there was a chance that something could happen. If he was less...Stiles about it. ]
[ Rolling his eyes, Derek snorts faintly as he keeps a close watch on him. The impulse to snap out brilliant deduction, Watson is bitten back as he focuses on what he's doing, his movements. He has an idea of the practice, but not quite how to execute it himself.
As he comes forward again, he brings his staff around to deflect. But instead of pinning him to the mat like before, he blocks, pushes to redirect, hooks their staffs together and turns. It might seem, at first, that he's trying to force the staff out of Stiles' hands.
Not so. He uses his moment and superior size to pivot Stiles up and over his back so that he lands on the mat.
John winces, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hold in a laugh before a muffled, "Yeah, no, not really," leaves him. But there's something here, because he can see Stiles analyzing, he knows the look. But Derek... Derek is analyzing, too. ]
[ Stiles grunts when he meets his strikes, starting to get more and more into it--he's trying, learning, adapting, and holds on for dear life, then throws a surprisingly quick strike at him, and for a minute, Stiles thinks he's got him again.
But then his entire world is upending, and the next sensation Stiles gets is the wind getting knocked out of him as he's left blinking owlishly at the ceiling. Holy shit, ow.
But what was his advantage last time? Being small. Stiles pushes himself up as quick as he can, and when he rushes at him again, he's looking for weak spots. It doesn't feel like he's fighting; the stilted awkwardness is fading, a little, when he responds to Derek's movements, trying to find his openings.
To say he ends up losing his first match is kind of an understatement. He doesn't stand a chance. At least not yet.
Laura's got her eyes covered by the first one, and she's peeking through them. So much for that... ]
[ Stiles is fast, has an eye for where he needs to go. It's just a matter of closing himself off, covering his weak points or finding a way to counter Derek's counters to keep them moving. To the onlookers, it seems like he's figuring it out but failing in four quick points, but the ranger...
Well, he sees something different. He sees a spark, and he practically digs his teeth into it rather than letting it go.
The moment that the fourth point is called, he moves to the side of the mat that Stiles came in on, tapping the end of his staff into the padded surface as bare feet pad across. And then he turns, faces Stiles, and brings his staff around in both hands. He doesn't even bother voicing again, just looks at him and raises his brows. Prompting.
Even John's jaw drops a little, actually. Cora's eyes widen, head bobbing just slightly as her eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
[ Well, so much for that bravado. Stiles grunts as he pushes himself off the ground for a fourth and final time. His ribs are bruised and he can feel his muscles already starting to ache; this isn't exactly lacrosse. But when Derek walks off, Stiles stares at him for a moment, and his world narrows back down to him again.
Stiles is supposed to step down, now. He's supposed to get up with his humiliated ego, slink off, and go back to the lab where he belongs. But when Derek turns to face him, Stiles looks at him with something intense in his amber brown eyes, and pulls himself to his feet.
Round two.
Laura voices it before anyone-a little "yess!" escapes her, and she pumps her first--and Peter rolls his eyes. You're kidding. ]
Derek. [ Comes his voice, anyway. ] While it's touching that you're taking on charity cases, it's time for an actual candidate.
No. [ Derek doesn't give a shit if his uncle is the marshal, he's dead set on this and it's obvious. Still, he adds, a little dryly: ] Sir.
[ And that's it. Everything is just the two of them again, and he routes all of his focus onto Stiles. He still doesn't move, letting him come forward first for now, ready for him-- this isn't just about seeing a candidate, it's about the potential he already sees, and what he wants to draw out. He makes the first move, he doesn't give Stiles the chance to grow.
Maybe in round three.
John bounces on his feet next to Laura, throwing his fists up in the air excitedly because holy shit. Cora is much more muted, hands covering her mouth as she watches, waiting. ]
[ All Peter does is stare flatly at Derek. His nephew's been stubborn since he was four years old and refusing to eat his vegetables. Its the other half that's surprising, that he's picked some useless kid to try and fight with, who's not even in the drift program and ergo not qualified to be a ranger, but whatever.
No one should ever say Peter Hale's not a saint.
Stiles' world is pretty much zeroed in on Derek at this point, and he picks up the staff again, testing in his hands. He comes forward with a shout and at him again, finding those weak spots, looking at the next move, the weaknesses Derek presented (there weren't any, really), and most of all, where he could find his advantages. Stiles isn't strong, but he's quick, and he's smart, and the next time he knocks Derek back, he doesn't waste his time celebrating--he does light up, though, and it's obvious. He's getting it. Slowly. And painfully.
Laura is pretty much two steps from whooping, because she can see it. She knows how this is going to end, and the smile on her face shows it as she reaches over and gives John's arm a little shake, like she can't believe it. Derek's going to find a drift partner. ]
[ Whatever looks Peter sends him, Derek doesn't notice them. All he notices is Stiles, and that's all that honestly matters right now. Because he's trying to figure this kid out, decide what that spark is even as he grips tight on it to keep it from going anywhere. It's...
Well, it's almost like Paige was. But there's so much more to it, and whoever Stiles is? There's a similarity, but he's different. Something else.
The researcher manages to get him twice, far better than before, but Derek gets him to the mat a fourth time before he has a chance to up his score. He leaves himself too open on one side, leaves him capable of hooking his staff around his ankle and literally tripping his feet out from underneath him. At least he knows better than to waste time celebrating, because then he wouldn't hesitate to send him face-first into the floor.
When he gets back up again, poised again, John clutches at Laura's arm back and rattles with her. On his other side, Cora has started to bounce a little, herself, mind still blown but. It's been years since Paige, and he's finally fighting again. ]
[ On the third time, Stiles is getting faster. The stick comes around his head at a forty five degree angle this time, and hits not Derek's ribs, or his stomach, but his wrist, where the strong grip on the pole is. It's hard, too, although Stiles' definition of a hard hit is considerably different than Derek's, but he ducks out of the way of the return strike, and before you know it, the score for the third run (as Peter so boredly calls out) is 4-3.
It feels less and less like work, even though his body's pounding, his head's aching and he can literally feel everywhere Derek's staff has hit him, every time he's hit the ground, he's still moving. It's practically weaving now--when Derek comes forward, he goes back and forth, under when he goes up, up when Derek goes down, and he keeps clacking their staffs together, defending himself, until they get locked together and he locks eyes with Derek, something fierce in his eyes, something in Derek's face he can't quite measure, before they scatter again.
By the time this is coming around, Laura's got kind of an iron grip on John's arm. Derek could get cold feet at any minute; she's literally holding her breath in anticipation.]
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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
Stiles falls quiet for a minute, glancing at John when he kissyfaces at Laura and rolling his eyes playfully before getting focused again. His gaze softens a little as he stares at Derek, perceptive brown eyes locked on his fighting form. Stiles isn't the best at it, but he's got at least a little bit of training, the right eye to see these kind of things, how to maybe dodge, how to get him down on the ground.
Stiles maybe starts to get a crazy idea in his head while he's suddenly hyperfocused on Derek, while the world seems to quiet down to just the two of them. ]
Bless.
After Paige, though, he can understand why he's resistant to just anybody being made his copilot. You drift once, you drift for life, as far as he knows. He falls quiet as Stiles does, but splits his attention between one Beacon Hills native to the other, knowing already the silence of Stiles' hyperfocus. This'll be interesting.
All the while, Derek works his jaw a little, almost as if he's disappointed in the people entering the ring with him. He doesn't even look up to meet Cora's gaze from where she's standing at the front of the crowd, arms crossed and attention clearly focused on her brother as he taps the staff into the mat, waiting for his next candidate. ]
if i can't type the accents on my special keyboard you know that shit's hard
Dude, you're making it look like you don't even want a drift partner. No wonder you're not gonna find anyone to empathize with you. [ Secretly, his heart is pounding, because Stiles sure did just out himself to the entire crowd--to his dad, who's hanging around in the back, he knows he is--but he holds his ground, taking a couple steps down from the stairs so he's just one outside the ring.
Laura's eyebrows shoot up, and she looks at John, then elbows Cora. That's her boyfriend's protege. ]
LMF P MUCH
The Hale sisters have identical looks on their faces, and Cora gently pushes her hand against Laura's elbow to keep her from nudging at her again. She's not quite sure what to make of this, but she looks at their brother and...
Is surprised, actually. Derek looks at Stiles for a long moment in silence, before he slips his foot beneath the abandoned staff from his last opponent. Bunting it up and catching it, he inclines his head towards him. ] You want to give it a shot?
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Depends, are you gonna give me a chance, or not? [ There's a vague challenge to his words, because Stiles' temper gets him into ridiculous situations like this all the time; when accompanied by his wit, razor sharp at worst, he ends up doing a lot of ridiculous shit he wasn't prepared for. Picking up the other staff, Stiles tosses it up and down experimentally, gives it a spin....and very nearly beans himself in the face.
Great.
Laura winces for the poor kid, and shakes her head at both Cora and John; this is gonna be brutal. ]
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Shrugging helplessly, John does too. He likes Stiles. ]
If you don't knock yourself out first. [ Derek's tone is dry, expression neutral before he takes the staff and directs it to where Stiles is holding onto his own. It comes as just as much of a surprise as his initial comment did. ] Slide your hand down.
[ Why yes, he did just give him a pointer, before he spins with far more success and less possible concussions. ]
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Yeah, no, Stiles is dead. He's agreeing.
Laura folds her arms across her chest and raises her eyebrows at her brother. That's unusual, to say the absolute least; if she didn't know better, Laura would say he's interested in this kid. John had picked him for a reason, and it wasn't his fighting skills.
Well, time to put up or shut up.
Stiles, thinking the about same thing, looks at Derek, rocks back and forth, and pushes off his feet, aiming for the ribs. ]
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Considering Stiles almost thoughtfully, despite the overall neutral expression, Derek sees a lot of openings in his stance. Things that could be changed. And he makes note of them, before taking his own stance, at least satisfied that his hold on the staff is better.
But as he comes at him, he moves and brings his own staff around, bringing it down to pin the end of Stiles' into the mat. But he taps the end into the side of Stiles' head, rather than immediately knocking him on his ass. ] Don't go for an opening that leaves you open.
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Derek's helping him, though, and that? That's just weird. Stiles isn't going to let him take time to readjust, not while he can hear the Marshal's slightly smug "one point" in the background. The chances of him winning this are absolutely zero, but he's going to try his damndest anyway. Brown eyes are quick, calculating, and suddenly he uses the force from getting up into his crouch to sweep the pole across Derek's ankles, dropping lower to the ground to get more force behind the push. He's smaller than Derek, lighter, but if he can knock him off his feet, that doesn't matter so much, now does it?
Laura's jaw drops, and she's pretty much glued to the mat, for more reasons than one. Did that--any of that actually just happen? ]
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Cora scoots over a little as John weasels his way through the crowd and slots himself between her and Laura, grinning like a lunatic as she has an identical look to her sister. What.
And then there's the fact that Stiles manages to sweep Derek's feet out from beneath him. He doesn't bother trying to catch himself-- he's not going to windmill-- and it leaves his back hitting the mat with a heavy thud, but at least he keeps his head from bouncing when he lands.
Silence prevails a little longer, broken by a small chorus of holy shit, and then-- ] That was better.
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It's then that the marshal, who'd boredly been staring at his nails, speaks up, and you can just hear the quirk of a grin in his voice-- ] Point.
[ --and Stiles snaps out of it, shock registering in his features because holy shit did that work, before he steps back a little, breaking into an unabashed grin as he tries to move back into the same fighting position, getting his staff ready.
Laura, meanwhile, will just be over here, trying to hide a smile, her hand over her mouth. Things just got interesting. She does lean to John and mumble, "Did you pick him for his fighting skills?" ]
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He's essentially ignoring everyone outside of the mat, including the only remaining members of his family. His attention is, actually, completely and entirely on Stiles as he observes him. ] Again.
[ Cora also chooses to ignore family, letting Laura and John whisper to each other as she tries to assess the researcher, eying him as if it'll tell her all about him. Who the hell is this kid and what is Derek seeing?
"He has absolutely no coordination in the lab," is all John murmurs back to Laura, head bowed in towards her but eyes on his protege and grin still intact. ]
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So this time, he goes low again, solar plexus instead of the ribs, thinking weak spots; any and all skills he has are A) learned from movies or B) learned self defense from his dad. That doesn't mean he's the greatest at applying himself, and he continues to leave himself open--but damn, he's trying, he's picking up, watching Derek move and trying to learn from it.
Laura snorts and mutters, "Most likely none out there, either.", because that had to be dumb luck. Didn't it? There was something weird about this kid, like...like there was a chance that something could happen. If he was less...Stiles about it. ]
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As he comes forward again, he brings his staff around to deflect. But instead of pinning him to the mat like before, he blocks, pushes to redirect, hooks their staffs together and turns. It might seem, at first, that he's trying to force the staff out of Stiles' hands.
Not so. He uses his moment and superior size to pivot Stiles up and over his back so that he lands on the mat.
John winces, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth and hold in a laugh before a muffled, "Yeah, no, not really," leaves him. But there's something here, because he can see Stiles analyzing, he knows the look. But Derek... Derek is analyzing, too. ]
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But then his entire world is upending, and the next sensation Stiles gets is the wind getting knocked out of him as he's left blinking owlishly at the ceiling. Holy shit, ow.
But what was his advantage last time? Being small. Stiles pushes himself up as quick as he can, and when he rushes at him again, he's looking for weak spots. It doesn't feel like he's fighting; the stilted awkwardness is fading, a little, when he responds to Derek's movements, trying to find his openings.
To say he ends up losing his first match is kind of an understatement. He doesn't stand a chance. At least not yet.
Laura's got her eyes covered by the first one, and she's peeking through them. So much for that... ]
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Well, he sees something different. He sees a spark, and he practically digs his teeth into it rather than letting it go.
The moment that the fourth point is called, he moves to the side of the mat that Stiles came in on, tapping the end of his staff into the padded surface as bare feet pad across. And then he turns, faces Stiles, and brings his staff around in both hands. He doesn't even bother voicing again, just looks at him and raises his brows. Prompting.
Even John's jaw drops a little, actually. Cora's eyes widen, head bobbing just slightly as her eyebrows raise in disbelief. ]
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Stiles is supposed to step down, now. He's supposed to get up with his humiliated ego, slink off, and go back to the lab where he belongs. But when Derek turns to face him, Stiles looks at him with something intense in his amber brown eyes, and pulls himself to his feet.
Round two.
Laura voices it before anyone-a little "yess!" escapes her, and she pumps her first--and Peter rolls his eyes. You're kidding. ]
Derek. [ Comes his voice, anyway. ] While it's touching that you're taking on charity cases, it's time for an actual candidate.
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[ And that's it. Everything is just the two of them again, and he routes all of his focus onto Stiles. He still doesn't move, letting him come forward first for now, ready for him-- this isn't just about seeing a candidate, it's about the potential he already sees, and what he wants to draw out. He makes the first move, he doesn't give Stiles the chance to grow.
Maybe in round three.
John bounces on his feet next to Laura, throwing his fists up in the air excitedly because holy shit. Cora is much more muted, hands covering her mouth as she watches, waiting. ]
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No one should ever say Peter Hale's not a saint.
Stiles' world is pretty much zeroed in on Derek at this point, and he picks up the staff again, testing in his hands. He comes forward with a shout and at him again, finding those weak spots, looking at the next move, the weaknesses Derek presented (there weren't any, really), and most of all, where he could find his advantages. Stiles isn't strong, but he's quick, and he's smart, and the next time he knocks Derek back, he doesn't waste his time celebrating--he does light up, though, and it's obvious. He's getting it. Slowly. And painfully.
Laura is pretty much two steps from whooping, because she can see it. She knows how this is going to end, and the smile on her face shows it as she reaches over and gives John's arm a little shake, like she can't believe it. Derek's going to find a drift partner. ]
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Well, it's almost like Paige was. But there's so much more to it, and whoever Stiles is? There's a similarity, but he's different. Something else.
The researcher manages to get him twice, far better than before, but Derek gets him to the mat a fourth time before he has a chance to up his score. He leaves himself too open on one side, leaves him capable of hooking his staff around his ankle and literally tripping his feet out from underneath him. At least he knows better than to waste time celebrating, because then he wouldn't hesitate to send him face-first into the floor.
When he gets back up again, poised again, John clutches at Laura's arm back and rattles with her. On his other side, Cora has started to bounce a little, herself, mind still blown but. It's been years since Paige, and he's finally fighting again. ]
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It feels less and less like work, even though his body's pounding, his head's aching and he can literally feel everywhere Derek's staff has hit him, every time he's hit the ground, he's still moving. It's practically weaving now--when Derek comes forward, he goes back and forth, under when he goes up, up when Derek goes down, and he keeps clacking their staffs together, defending himself, until they get locked together and he locks eyes with Derek, something fierce in his eyes, something in Derek's face he can't quite measure, before they scatter again.
By the time this is coming around, Laura's got kind of an iron grip on John's arm. Derek could get cold feet at any minute; she's literally holding her breath in anticipation.]
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