[ that--that means a lot, combined with the gesture, the kiss. he knows this has to be a big deal for derek, knows the hell he's been through. it's a big deal for stiles too, for his own sundry reasons--he's tried to do everything he could for derek, for erica. for cora and laura, too. they had become part of the family, people he cared for fiercely and would protect with his life, no matter what was attacking them.
stiles didn't do well with having people he loved taken from him, he never had. he'd just resolved never to let it happen again.
touched, and obviously so, his eyes flutter before he glances up at him again, searching his face. ] For someone whose blood is that of Lupa herself, you are more human than anyone I've ever met.
[ the wonder in derek's voice reflects back in stiles', a little softer, but just as true. ] If I am such a reason than I hope I never die. [ he crooks a small smile at him, leans into kiss him again, soft and slow, until he can break away to speak against his lips, the barest drag. ] You deserve a life well lived, my survivor.
[ Thumb running along the tender skin of his wrist, an absent gesture up and down, Derek tries not to wilt under the soft look that Stiles gives him. It may be a mirror of his own, but he hasn't been looked at that with sincerity in a very, very long time now. Over the past year, his lord has done more for him than anyone has in the past ten combined, since tragedy struck and started to drag him deeper and deeper into the dark. But now he's here, like he's stepped into twilight, like someone's finally shone a light on him.
Like the clouds have cleared, and the moon has returned.
So he tries to repay him, do what Stiles has done for him in return. It's partially out of gratitude, partially because Stiles had become pack in an incredibly short amount of time. Became something more, as they grew to know one another, grew closer. He hesitates to even think the word, let alone breathe it, because of the losses that he's suffered. He could not face losing Stiles, not with everything that's already happened to him. ]
She would be proud to know the anchor that keeps me tethered to my humanity. [ For a long time, it was his anger that kept him grounded. And for a long time, it had suited him well; he spent much of his time fighting, trying to stay alive, and anger was the best fuel for it. But now he has something to protect, someone.
Someone he loves. And maybe he presses that into the kiss, barely pulling away from that drag of lips to reply. ] Only so long as you are in it. [ Maybe the gods will do him that one favor. If not, he will fight to earn it. And should he still breathe when Stiles someday passes, he will not be long after him. ]
[ it feels almost like he's too far away--stiles shifts up in the water, just a little, and fidgets so he's perched on derek's bent knees. it's probably the closest they've been. (aside from a very dear moment to stiles' heart where derek had fallen asleep with his head in his lap while stiles had been going over papers; it'd taken him half the day with his head in the scrolls to realize he'd been scratching at derek's hair every few minutes until he'd fallen asleep.) but there's nothing unnatural about it, as he breaks the contact between them only to start it anew, long arms coming up to wrap tight around his shoulders, tucking his face into the crook of his neck.
it's strange to put a word to it, though, that he knows, now. knows he loves derek, knows that it's more than just a master and his servant--although it's always been that. he tucks his cheek there and sits for a second, relishing in the contact, remembering the blood, that he had, actually, had a chance of losing him. and it makes something burn deep in his gut that someone tried. he mutters against his skin, business for a second. ] I'll need a list of all of your weaknesses, something to memorize and then burn. I don't want to be surprised.
[ guards on the perimeters, perhaps a spy in the argent household--scott. he nods to himself, like he's trying to mentally map out what he can do to keep derek as safe as possible, then presses his mouth to his shoulder, just a brief flutter of a thing, and maybe there's a smile there, small. ] I had originally wanted...well, what most masters wanted, do you know that? But I stopped from the moment we spoke of it, because I have always, I think, seen you as my equal.
[ his smile goes crooked, and he has to bury it in his neck. ] Whether you saw the same of me or not. Your brilliance and wit says far more about you than your supposed background, and while you are a capable warrior--more than capable, I should say--you are far more than meets the eye.
[ Rather than shy away from Stiles coming closer, Derek shifts where he's seated to make it a little easier. His wounds are still healing, and he can feel a flinch in his flesh as he adjusts to give Stiles room to settle, but he doesn't pay it much mind. His muscles will be sore for days, he's sure, but it's worth it if it means that Stiles is here with him now. And it's strange to realize that this is a new thing, that they've only ever been so close once before, when it feels so natural. He'd gone from restlessness around others to feeling safe enough around Stiles that he could find a dreamless sleep. Now, he tilts his head to allow him room at his neck, rather than bristling up wit the contact.
Slowly, he drifts his hands down Stiles' sides, until he can slip his arms around his middle and hold him. The thought that it wouldn't take much to break him comes to mind, but he just settles here, tucking his nose against his shoulder and breathing him in. There's a sharp trace of anxiety there, something a little like fear mixing with it, the air before rain, and he's learned from birth that it tends to mean worry. Which leads to him being less than surprised as he speaks again, mouth warm against his skin. ]
Our bodies reject most poisons, and will heal from even the most grievous of injuries inflicted by men. [ He speaks just as softly against the meat of his shoulder, mouth forming the words against his skin as he refuses to move from where he's found himself, listening closely to the thrum of his heart. ] But wolfsbane and mistletoe can kill, even in the smallest of doses-- those that knew of what I was in the coliseum would coat their weapons in diluted wolfsbane. Wounds brought on by alpha wolves take far longer to heal.
[ It's a short list, and he has more that he could add-- decapitation, being cut in twain, the length it takes to heal from fire, rowan-- but for now he keeps it to what is the most relevant. Given the attack today, and the attempts on their lives in the past that Derek has kept guarded, between himself and Erica, his sisters. These are the things Stiles needs to know now, when he doesn't have his scrolls in front of him, a way to make plans and scrawl them out before they get too jumbled in his head.
A smile of his own pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he rubs his thumb up and down the line of his spine, head tilting against his where he's hidden himself in his neck. ] Few see past the warrior and accusations left to my name, back to when the Hales were of noble standing. But you did, and you did not try to quell that.
We are equals, and the fact that you see and allow this of me is something I will cherish for a long, long time.
Alphas... [ he's thinking, now, mind racing with the possibilities that come with derek's state of being, with people trying to kill him, and stiles bites his lip, bright eyes practically searching the air as he thinks it over. ] Deucalion. And your sister as well, yes? The eyes.
[ he's not supposed to have seen their eyes; it's supposed to be a secret. but laura's burned red once, and stiles had spoken about it with scott afterwards. it made sense, that red would be the highest rank--red like blood. everything else he adds is good, important information to have, and he nods. ] I suppose I should be checking your wine for poison, if that's the case.
[ it's a joke, although he doubts the thought will sit well with derek, and he absolutely would if that would keep him safe. it might be a touch counterproductive though, so. ] Very well. I'll see if Scott cannot pick up information for me while he's visiting with Allison. He's taken a fancy to her anyway.
[ that makes him smile a little, the fond memory of scott's totally silly smile at the name "allison argent", and he chuckles and rolls his cheek to rest on his shoulder so he can watch him, instead--but at the same time, it opens up the expanse of his throat a little more. like he's letting him in there, like he knows. ]
You have never been a slave to me. [ and it's as simple as that. one hand comes up to thread into his hair, slick and wet and familiar, and he offers him a lopsided smile from his position against his shoulder. ] Although I would see that perhaps you should sleep in my quarters tonight. It is not a command, as it were, but I think your sisters have long since had an eye on the quarters you have called your own.
Deucalion. Laura. Kali. [ A slow pause, and then; ] My mother. An alpha's eyes burn red. Betas, gold. Sometimes blue.
[ But he does not explain why, and Derek keeps his eyes forward over his shoulder as he says it. Because part of him hopes that Stiles won't ask, because it won't be an order that compels him to tell him why-- it'll simply be because it's Stiles that asks. But even a decade later, the love he'd lost by his own hands is still something that drives a sharp pain into his ribs and leaves it there. ] Some are born as wolves. Others, turned through a bite, but only an alpha can change man to wolf.
[ And, of course, Stiles gives him reason to bite at him. An annoyed sound leaves him, caught in the back of his throat, at the joke that his young lord makes. Without hesitating, he nips at pale skin, teeth human-blunt but still (playfully) reprimanding. It's obvious he doesn't like the idea, and will call him on it for being counterproductive quickly if he must. ] If you believe Scott will be able to focus beyond Allison.
[ He doesn't trust her, still, but Allison is a farcry from the rest of her family thus far. He'll see if that trend continues. But she quickly leaves his mind, as he watches Stiles tilt his head, opening up his throat. It makes Derek bristle the slightest bit, but it's not aggression that causes it. Quiet, he nuzzles his nose in, finding his pulse in seconds to brush his lips against the line of it. ]
They've been fighting over it. [ Murmured as it is from where he's tucked against his neck, there's a faint humor there. ] I have not wanted to give it up, if only to be an irritant, but if you wish me to join you perhaps I can part with it.
[ Stiles is quiet for a second, thinking about Derek's blue eyes. It could mean almost anything, and he can practically hear the ache in his voice when he mentions the color--the young lord shifts forward again and cups his cheeks in his hands. He'll resettle in a moment--this is important. ] I would ask you to tell me why, but I would not force you. [ A thumb traces across his cheekbones for just a second, and he could swear he could still see the reflection of that electric blue in Derek's near colorless eyes. ] Perhaps I will do some research into the general concept--for now, allow me to just believe it is because you are special.
[ His mouth tilts up a little again as he lets go, and even lets Derek nip at him, because he was pretty much expecting that, and Stiles threads his long fingers through his wet hair, holding him comfortably in that spot. Teasing bite or not, it was still kind of a lot to handle. ] I do. Or--at least, I hope he will. I have full faith.
[ And the thought of Derek in his bed tonight is kind of a pleasing one; Stiles snorts, and not quietly either, and turns his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head a little. He'll never understand siblings--benefits of being an only child. ] I have changed my mind, I command it, if only to keep you three from killing each other under my roof.
[ Something wrenches its way into Derek's chest as he looks back at Stiles, listens to his words. There's nothing special about him, at least not in the way that Stiles thinks. His hands are stained in blood, and would be even if he had never entered the ring. No, this is not something that he'll look at with admiration. But he still has the gall to lean into his human lord's touch, trying to smother the pain that tries to surface in his gaze.
Being able to look away from him for a moment, to distract if only briefly, he stays where he's held. It's not quite obedient, so much as it is simply willing to be there. His nose brushes across soft skin, and he listens to his voice, to his steady breathing and the jackrabbit rhythm that thrums in his ribs and through his veins. All things that he could recognize in but an instant.
His arms slide further around Stiles, though he feels he has no right to hold him there in the hopes to keep him from leaving his life like so many before him have. So distracted with this thought, this concern, he barely makes more than a sound of agreement-- first at the teasing of Scott, and then again when discussing he and his sisters. ]
[ That lights up concern in his chest, and Stiles almost immediately frowns, brown eyes shifting just a little to look at Derek out of his peripherals. The way his arms draw a little tighter has him worried, now, and Stiles curls over him for a second, long arms coming up and around until he can pull his head to his chest, tucking his chin in the wet strands of his hair. It's not much, it's not comforting words or anything because Stiles has never been good at those, but it's the gesture, the fact that he holds onto Derek like he's his anchor in a storm, quiet for a few seconds until he can work up the exact response he wants. ]
I would always. [ He doesn't close his eyes, but mumbles into his hair, instead, enough that hopefully Derek can hear the reverberations of it in his chest. ] I know not why your enthusiasm has dissipated, but I can assure you, having you by my side, be it on the field or in my bedside, is something that I always--always--desire.
[ After he seconds, he adds: ] Whether you think you deserve it, or not.
[ As Stiles practically encloses him, Derek doesn't feel the need to free himself or push him away. Part of him, the so deeply self-depreciating part of him, thinks that he doesn't deserve this. But something in him still settles a little, his nose tucking against the dip of Stiles' collar as he sits there with him. His eyes focus in the quiet space, tracking the line of his clavicle and finding the spots that make up constellations across his body from so close up, and he simply sits and listens.
It's almost soothing, though it doesn't absolve him of his guilt nor of his loss. One broad hand fans out against his spine, slipping up between his shoulders as his other arm secures itself more comfortably around his hips. ]
Our eyes. [ The words are a simple murmur at first, but he doesn't hesitate as he says them. ] Those wolves with blue eyes once had gold-- the change comes when they have taken an innocent life, leaving a stain on part of their soul.
[ That makes sense. Stiles' brow furrows a little and he rests his cheek on Derek's head, pondering about it and making connections. He had never seen another--what had Derek called them, betas?--so he had assumed the blue eyes were just standard. ]
Is it from the ring? [ Although those lives--they were most likely not innocent. The gladiator's ring is a cruel place, and it's more often than not that innocent people are thrown to the lions...or perhaps in this case, the wolves.
His thumb finds the triskele tattoo burned into his back, and Stiles starts tracing it with his thumb, just barely following the spirals as he speaks. ]
No. [ The answer is immediate, honest. Stiles is smart, of course he'd think of the fights that Derek had been forced into in his "prestigious" history. Some of them had been innocent, thrown in much like Erica had, but they were few and far between. Good, innocent people rarely survived the ring, and if they did? That innocence was quickly ripped free of them.
While tension still remains in his shoulders, both from his healing and from the topic, some of it eases away with the touch against his tattoo. If he could just stay there with Stiles, he would be all the more grateful for it. ]
Sometimes, when an alpha gives the bite, it does not take. No matter how healthy the human is, how strong their fight, their body will begin to reject the bite. Reject itself. It is a greater mercy to end their suffering than let them die from it.
[ He's silent for a second, fingers still tracing over the triskele. Someone tried to give someone else the bite, and--
It clicks. It clicks in the way that makes his hands stop moving over the triskele for a second, and he sucks in a breath, pulling back just a little to look at him. There's this moment of silence, something unreadable in Stiles' dark brown eyes, but it breaks when he murmurs-- ] Oh, Derek.
[ And shifts back forward again, pulling him back into the same position, squeezing just a little tighter. Stiles knows--he could only imagine the kind of pain that came from that, but he can feel it, understands because he was the only one there when his mother died, when she got sick because of him. It had been his fault. He shakes his head, just minutely, and squeezes just a tiny bit tighter. ]
[ At first, Derek doesn't look at him when he pulls back. But slowly, he lifts his clear green eyes, looking up from under his brow at Stiles in a pained silence. Because he didn't have to say anything, didn't have to reveal a thing, but something about his lord compels him to speak. To tell him about why his eyes are the color that they are every time they flash to life.
For as much as he doesn't think he deserves this-- deserves Stiles-- he still tucks his face against him when he's drawn in again, a faintly shuddery breath leaving him. His fingers curl tighter against him, careful not to hurt but holding himself to his newfound anchor. ]
We had been younger than you are now-- and I had made the foolish mistake of listening to my uncle, who told me there was no way we could stay with one another if she did not take the bite.
Flaws came on while I was writing this tag and now I'm sad.
[ His heart wrenches and Stiles looks down at him for a second, meeting his gaze and curling over him, like he could be a human shield to block that away. It hurts in a way that he understands, in a way that resonates so deeply with Stiles that he has to suck in a shuddery breath of his own. He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about listening to his uncle, about the girl. He'd read Derek's family history a thousand times, quiet research he kept to himself--he'd been engaged, once, betrothed to a girl by the name of Paige, but she'd passed away.
It made since how, now.
What do you even say to that? How does he even begin to tell him he understands. Stiles holds his breath for a second as he chooses his words, only pulling away from the embrace to take his face in his hands again, thumbing at the stubble on his cheeks. ] Surely you saved her pain, by--by doing what you did. That is all I've ever known you to do, take burdens when it feels like no one else can shoulder them, be they mine, or Erica's, or hers, too, it seems.
[ He replicates the gesture from before, when Derek was a wolf--leaning forward, he presses his forehead to his. ] And I can promise you, I would not be so influenced by someone whose intentions were obviously not well placed.
[ That's a little joke, and his mouth quirks in a tiny smile. It implies a lot more than it means, though--that he had loved Paige, and maybe Stiles loves him that much, if not more, too. ] That is, should that situation ever come up. I'm sure you know I like to be prepared.
[ If Stiles didn't know about Paige already-- at least the general information, their engagement and her death-- Derek would honestly be shocked. He knows better than to think that Stiles hasn't delved into his records, into what remains of the Hale family as they've been written down. Because his young lord has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, regardless of what the subject is; of course he'd look into the history of his purchase.
Rather than drawing away from his touch when he takes his face in his hands, Derek simply looks up at him, expression quiet as he tries to push down everything again. It's been a long time since he's shared this with anyone, and the hurt is still fresh a decade later, because a Hale never passively cares about anyone no matter how hard they try. He grieves still for Paige, for his mother and father, his brother, aunts and uncles and cousins, for his grandmother whose pelt was white as snow in old age. He grieves now for Boyd, and for a time nearly thought he would grieve for Erica.
Looking up at Stiles where he's perched on his lap, holding his face and pressed close to him, he hopes he never has to grieve for him.
Slowly, he slides his hands up from where they've settled, following the path smooth skin has set for him until he can frame Stiles' neck. He can feel his pulse thrumming under his skin, and he could so very easily rip it free from him. But he doesn't want another loved one's blood on his hands, not again. He'd rather drive his claws into his own heart than hurt Stiles, and by this point? He's fairly certain that Stiles knows it, especially with his words. ] I would never think to give you the bite, Stiles. Not unless there were no other choice, where it could save your life. You have no need for it, my clever human.
[ there's something so intense about this moment, that stiles almost wants to shy away from it. he's never been good with his feelings, and he thinks absently of the fact that he's unmarried, that finding a match with someone of derek's standing would be scandalous to say the least.
but he doesn't care. he'll take the scandal, if it means derek will soften when he looks at him, like he is right now, letting down every wall that he's so tirelessly built up around him. stiles knows what happened, he knows everything, from paige to kate to jennifer, and it makes him angry, makes him proud for how derek has survived to this day. but stiles isn't going to make him survive anymore--if he can provide comfort and warmth and shelter, provide a place for them to argue in safety that won't end in death, offer him a bed to sleep in and food for his stomach, take care of his pack, he will.
his eyes flutter as derek's hands come to his neck, and stiles' mouth curves into a small smile, as he lifts a hand and covers derek's hand with his. ] Well, I will try to avoid life or death situations in the future then, shan't I.
[ his eyes flick down and he stares at his wounds, slowly closing, and murmurs: ] This is amazing.
They will find you, regardless. You have a knack for trouble, I find. [ Thumbing gently at Stiles' pulse as his hand covers his, he shakes his head a little. But that's what Derek is for, isn't it? At first, maybe not, but it's the job that he's taken on for himself. The promise he's making for himself, for Stiles both. After losing Paige, and then his family not long afterwards, after losing Boyd and so very many people he's met in the fights, he's not losing anyone else.
Especially not Stiles, who he's grown to love over the past year. It's a terrifying thought, but it's no less true for as difficult as it is for him to address his feelings. Bowing his head forward, he gently brushes his nose against the upturn of Stiles', looking down at his injuries with him in a moment of quiet. They heal slower than normal, but they still heal-- and that's a good sign.
Breathing out, he draws his hands away, touching his fingers to the biggest wound. ] They will, ideally, be scarring by tomorrow.
It's a good thing I have a warrior to protect me, then. [ His smile's soft as he allows derek to thumb at his pulse, lean in towards him. for a second, he closes his eyes and rubs his nose against his in a soft nuzzle, just long enough, and then looks down with him.
derek will protect him. derek has always protected him. he has a feeling that his foolish, beautiful survivor would do anything for stiles, and as terrifying as that thought is, he makes a promise to himself to try and stay out of trouble long enough to let him live a happy life. he has a feeling that it's going to be far more difficult than it sounds.
stiles leans backwards a little and brushes skin that's not tender with his thumb, looking it over. it's already getting better, has been since they sat down, and the cleaning seems to have only expedited the process. ] Good. Perhaps we should get you to bed for the night--rest can only help.
A good thing, indeed. [ The nuzzle gives him some small swell of affection in the pit of his chest, something he can't quite fight, because it's such a wolfish action and Stiles just-- does it. It's such a mundane thing to take pleasure in, but he does it regardless, because the human boy that'd purchased him and given him a second life is more than observant. He's seen him pick up behaviors, a pattern that he's created himself in contrast to whatever one Derek has offered him by saving his life over the past year or so.
Decidedly human, he's clever as any fox could be, with a heart belonging to the wolves. Of course his place would be here with him, and he'll fight to keep it that way. Even if it only means a day of peace before weeks of chaos, he will take it. A reprieve from the storm that his life has been.
His hands lower, slowly, until they're settling on Stiles' hips as he leans back. It's half a need to make sure he doesn't splash backwards in his typical gracelessness, but also simply because he can do that now. ] That would require getting up, lordling. [ There's a teasing to his tone, tired as it truly is. ]
it's not late enough for the all nighter porn tag show so this happens instead
[ stiles puffs out a long, vocal sigh, a "hmmmmm" noise as he can easily feel derek's big hands finding his hips. it'd be nice to stay in the bathhouse forever, and a part of stiles fears for what the outside world might bring. here it's safe, protected, and just them alone, with no one allowed to bust in or interrupt. it's anyone's game outside of these four walls, but stiles doesn't think his father'll be too surprised when the former guest's quarters have mysteriously become empty. ] I suppose that would, wouldn't it.
[ tipping forward again, he presses his fingertips to derek's stubble and plants a kiss on him, small but promising, then carefully starts to untangle himself from his lap, ducking back underneath the water to wash the last of the oils from his skin. there's a lot of words in that kiss that he doesn't really need to say, he thinks, and he pops back up smiling, pushing himself out of the water and up onto the marble floor.
which is freezing, and stiles promptly loses any cool points in his ridiculous flail over to where his britches are waiting in hopes of not freezing his ass off. he's still not completely comfortable with this whole nude thing, and now that derek's healed (or healing) it's a little easier to actually pay attention to such these. so derek gets treated to a sight of his butt for half a second instead of his front as he hurries to pull on his pants, then scampers back over to offer his hand. ]
[ For as comfortable as Derek is with his lapful of Stiles, he's not particularly keen towards pruning in the bath. His injuries have been washed out, the grit from rolling through and across the earth gone with the wolfsbane, and he's far more interested in drying off and getting into a bed where he can sleep off the soreness in his body and whatever poison lingers in it. There will be a few new scars, but not as many as there could've been if he didn't have the attentive care of his young scholar.
This place is safe and known, but Stiles is home more than the estate is.
He tips up into the kiss, a soft sound at the back of his throat, something small and content. It's not a noise he ever thought he'd be able to make again, but he takes the meaning of the kiss and the gentle touch and shifts so that he can ensure that all the grime and blood and oils (both from the bath and from the poison) are gone. It's then that he observes Stiles as he gets out of the water, and he barks out a quick laugh as he flails away.
But his attention follows Stiles, and his eyes drop down to his butt without far too much concern. (He has a cluster of spots there, too. Of course he does.) When he starts coming back, though, his eyes lift and he comes forward to take his hand, accepting the help up and out. ]
[ derek's kind of happy noises give stiles an odd joy. even if he's laughing at him, which he definitely is, the teenager isn't really complaining, and he grins a little privately to himself as he turns back around. it's nice, compared to the derek he first brought back. like he's started to heal some.
stiles'll do whatever it takes to expedite that process, simply because his warrior deserves a happy life. if stiles is lucky enough to be the thing that makes him smile, well, that makes his job that much easier.
he rolls his eyes for show though, anyway, and helps derek out of the water, definitely trying hard not to flick his gaze down. ] Sleep, and perhaps a big breakfast tomorrow in the morning. [ a beat. ] The late morning. Afternoon, maybe.
[ At least now the more wolfish sounds that leave him are easily explained. They weren't that uncommon from him before, but now they make sense rather than him just seeming like a man gone feral. (Still not that far off, true, but.) It's a surprise that he even has the heart to feel contentment now, and Stiles is the one to thank for it, honestly.
So it's easy for Derek to let him help get him out of the water, and he gives a small, full-body shudder before he shakes himself off a little. His hair, mostly, as his head shakes a little and fluffs it up into a softer facsimile of his usual style.
He does not take his hand back. ] Afternoon, I think. If ingrained training allows for it, anyways. [ Exhaustion will likely beat it out, though. ]
[ stiles' lips quirk up the moment derek basically shakes himself off, and he can't resist the -- ] Apparently that isn't the only thing ingrained in you, son of Romulus.
[ and he's obviously not complaining, considering; stiles squeezes the hand in his once, gently, carefully starting to pull him out of the bathhouse. he hides his kind of besotted grin down at the ground as he pauses to grab his tunic from where it'd been waiting with his pants, flinging it over his arm to worry about it later. for now, there's sleep, and tending to his warrior for as long as he needs it. ] Afternoon sounds fine with me. The longer I can avoid the senate attendings I have, the better.
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no subject
stiles didn't do well with having people he loved taken from him, he never had. he'd just resolved never to let it happen again.
touched, and obviously so, his eyes flutter before he glances up at him again, searching his face. ] For someone whose blood is that of Lupa herself, you are more human than anyone I've ever met.
[ the wonder in derek's voice reflects back in stiles', a little softer, but just as true. ] If I am such a reason than I hope I never die. [ he crooks a small smile at him, leans into kiss him again, soft and slow, until he can break away to speak against his lips, the barest drag. ] You deserve a life well lived, my survivor.
no subject
Like the clouds have cleared, and the moon has returned.
So he tries to repay him, do what Stiles has done for him in return. It's partially out of gratitude, partially because Stiles had become pack in an incredibly short amount of time. Became something more, as they grew to know one another, grew closer. He hesitates to even think the word, let alone breathe it, because of the losses that he's suffered. He could not face losing Stiles, not with everything that's already happened to him. ]
She would be proud to know the anchor that keeps me tethered to my humanity. [ For a long time, it was his anger that kept him grounded. And for a long time, it had suited him well; he spent much of his time fighting, trying to stay alive, and anger was the best fuel for it. But now he has something to protect, someone.
Someone he loves. And maybe he presses that into the kiss, barely pulling away from that drag of lips to reply. ] Only so long as you are in it. [ Maybe the gods will do him that one favor. If not, he will fight to earn it. And should he still breathe when Stiles someday passes, he will not be long after him. ]
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it's strange to put a word to it, though, that he knows, now. knows he loves derek, knows that it's more than just a master and his servant--although it's always been that. he tucks his cheek there and sits for a second, relishing in the contact, remembering the blood, that he had, actually, had a chance of losing him. and it makes something burn deep in his gut that someone tried. he mutters against his skin, business for a second. ] I'll need a list of all of your weaknesses, something to memorize and then burn. I don't want to be surprised.
[ guards on the perimeters, perhaps a spy in the argent household--scott. he nods to himself, like he's trying to mentally map out what he can do to keep derek as safe as possible, then presses his mouth to his shoulder, just a brief flutter of a thing, and maybe there's a smile there, small. ] I had originally wanted...well, what most masters wanted, do you know that? But I stopped from the moment we spoke of it, because I have always, I think, seen you as my equal.
[ his smile goes crooked, and he has to bury it in his neck. ] Whether you saw the same of me or not. Your brilliance and wit says far more about you than your supposed background, and while you are a capable warrior--more than capable, I should say--you are far more than meets the eye.
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Slowly, he drifts his hands down Stiles' sides, until he can slip his arms around his middle and hold him. The thought that it wouldn't take much to break him comes to mind, but he just settles here, tucking his nose against his shoulder and breathing him in. There's a sharp trace of anxiety there, something a little like fear mixing with it, the air before rain, and he's learned from birth that it tends to mean worry. Which leads to him being less than surprised as he speaks again, mouth warm against his skin. ]
Our bodies reject most poisons, and will heal from even the most grievous of injuries inflicted by men. [ He speaks just as softly against the meat of his shoulder, mouth forming the words against his skin as he refuses to move from where he's found himself, listening closely to the thrum of his heart. ] But wolfsbane and mistletoe can kill, even in the smallest of doses-- those that knew of what I was in the coliseum would coat their weapons in diluted wolfsbane. Wounds brought on by alpha wolves take far longer to heal.
[ It's a short list, and he has more that he could add-- decapitation, being cut in twain, the length it takes to heal from fire, rowan-- but for now he keeps it to what is the most relevant. Given the attack today, and the attempts on their lives in the past that Derek has kept guarded, between himself and Erica, his sisters. These are the things Stiles needs to know now, when he doesn't have his scrolls in front of him, a way to make plans and scrawl them out before they get too jumbled in his head.
A smile of his own pulls at the corner of his mouth, and he rubs his thumb up and down the line of his spine, head tilting against his where he's hidden himself in his neck. ] Few see past the warrior and accusations left to my name, back to when the Hales were of noble standing. But you did, and you did not try to quell that.
We are equals, and the fact that you see and allow this of me is something I will cherish for a long, long time.
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[ he's not supposed to have seen their eyes; it's supposed to be a secret. but laura's burned red once, and stiles had spoken about it with scott afterwards. it made sense, that red would be the highest rank--red like blood. everything else he adds is good, important information to have, and he nods. ] I suppose I should be checking your wine for poison, if that's the case.
[ it's a joke, although he doubts the thought will sit well with derek, and he absolutely would if that would keep him safe. it might be a touch counterproductive though, so. ] Very well. I'll see if Scott cannot pick up information for me while he's visiting with Allison. He's taken a fancy to her anyway.
[ that makes him smile a little, the fond memory of scott's totally silly smile at the name "allison argent", and he chuckles and rolls his cheek to rest on his shoulder so he can watch him, instead--but at the same time, it opens up the expanse of his throat a little more. like he's letting him in there, like he knows. ]
You have never been a slave to me. [ and it's as simple as that. one hand comes up to thread into his hair, slick and wet and familiar, and he offers him a lopsided smile from his position against his shoulder. ] Although I would see that perhaps you should sleep in my quarters tonight. It is not a command, as it were, but I think your sisters have long since had an eye on the quarters you have called your own.
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[ But he does not explain why, and Derek keeps his eyes forward over his shoulder as he says it. Because part of him hopes that Stiles won't ask, because it won't be an order that compels him to tell him why-- it'll simply be because it's Stiles that asks. But even a decade later, the love he'd lost by his own hands is still something that drives a sharp pain into his ribs and leaves it there. ] Some are born as wolves. Others, turned through a bite, but only an alpha can change man to wolf.
[ And, of course, Stiles gives him reason to bite at him. An annoyed sound leaves him, caught in the back of his throat, at the joke that his young lord makes. Without hesitating, he nips at pale skin, teeth human-blunt but still (playfully) reprimanding. It's obvious he doesn't like the idea, and will call him on it for being counterproductive quickly if he must. ] If you believe Scott will be able to focus beyond Allison.
[ He doesn't trust her, still, but Allison is a farcry from the rest of her family thus far. He'll see if that trend continues. But she quickly leaves his mind, as he watches Stiles tilt his head, opening up his throat. It makes Derek bristle the slightest bit, but it's not aggression that causes it. Quiet, he nuzzles his nose in, finding his pulse in seconds to brush his lips against the line of it. ]
They've been fighting over it. [ Murmured as it is from where he's tucked against his neck, there's a faint humor there. ] I have not wanted to give it up, if only to be an irritant, but if you wish me to join you perhaps I can part with it.
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[ His mouth tilts up a little again as he lets go, and even lets Derek nip at him, because he was pretty much expecting that, and Stiles threads his long fingers through his wet hair, holding him comfortably in that spot. Teasing bite or not, it was still kind of a lot to handle. ] I do. Or--at least, I hope he will. I have full faith.
[ And the thought of Derek in his bed tonight is kind of a pleasing one; Stiles snorts, and not quietly either, and turns his gaze to the ceiling, shaking his head a little. He'll never understand siblings--benefits of being an only child. ] I have changed my mind, I command it, if only to keep you three from killing each other under my roof.
[ Also a joke, but. ]
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Being able to look away from him for a moment, to distract if only briefly, he stays where he's held. It's not quite obedient, so much as it is simply willing to be there. His nose brushes across soft skin, and he listens to his voice, to his steady breathing and the jackrabbit rhythm that thrums in his ribs and through his veins. All things that he could recognize in but an instant.
His arms slide further around Stiles, though he feels he has no right to hold him there in the hopes to keep him from leaving his life like so many before him have. So distracted with this thought, this concern, he barely makes more than a sound of agreement-- first at the teasing of Scott, and then again when discussing he and his sisters. ]
If you would still have me there.
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I would always. [ He doesn't close his eyes, but mumbles into his hair, instead, enough that hopefully Derek can hear the reverberations of it in his chest. ] I know not why your enthusiasm has dissipated, but I can assure you, having you by my side, be it on the field or in my bedside, is something that I always--always--desire.
[ After he seconds, he adds: ] Whether you think you deserve it, or not.
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It's almost soothing, though it doesn't absolve him of his guilt nor of his loss. One broad hand fans out against his spine, slipping up between his shoulders as his other arm secures itself more comfortably around his hips. ]
Our eyes. [ The words are a simple murmur at first, but he doesn't hesitate as he says them. ] Those wolves with blue eyes once had gold-- the change comes when they have taken an innocent life, leaving a stain on part of their soul.
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Is it from the ring? [ Although those lives--they were most likely not innocent. The gladiator's ring is a cruel place, and it's more often than not that innocent people are thrown to the lions...or perhaps in this case, the wolves.
His thumb finds the triskele tattoo burned into his back, and Stiles starts tracing it with his thumb, just barely following the spirals as he speaks. ]
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While tension still remains in his shoulders, both from his healing and from the topic, some of it eases away with the touch against his tattoo. If he could just stay there with Stiles, he would be all the more grateful for it. ]
Sometimes, when an alpha gives the bite, it does not take. No matter how healthy the human is, how strong their fight, their body will begin to reject the bite. Reject itself. It is a greater mercy to end their suffering than let them die from it.
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It clicks. It clicks in the way that makes his hands stop moving over the triskele for a second, and he sucks in a breath, pulling back just a little to look at him. There's this moment of silence, something unreadable in Stiles' dark brown eyes, but it breaks when he murmurs-- ] Oh, Derek.
[ And shifts back forward again, pulling him back into the same position, squeezing just a little tighter. Stiles knows--he could only imagine the kind of pain that came from that, but he can feel it, understands because he was the only one there when his mother died, when she got sick because of him. It had been his fault. He shakes his head, just minutely, and squeezes just a tiny bit tighter. ]
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For as much as he doesn't think he deserves this-- deserves Stiles-- he still tucks his face against him when he's drawn in again, a faintly shuddery breath leaving him. His fingers curl tighter against him, careful not to hurt but holding himself to his newfound anchor. ]
We had been younger than you are now-- and I had made the foolish mistake of listening to my uncle, who told me there was no way we could stay with one another if she did not take the bite.
Flaws came on while I was writing this tag and now I'm sad.
It made since how, now.
What do you even say to that? How does he even begin to tell him he understands. Stiles holds his breath for a second as he chooses his words, only pulling away from the embrace to take his face in his hands again, thumbing at the stubble on his cheeks. ] Surely you saved her pain, by--by doing what you did. That is all I've ever known you to do, take burdens when it feels like no one else can shoulder them, be they mine, or Erica's, or hers, too, it seems.
[ He replicates the gesture from before, when Derek was a wolf--leaning forward, he presses his forehead to his. ] And I can promise you, I would not be so influenced by someone whose intentions were obviously not well placed.
[ That's a little joke, and his mouth quirks in a tiny smile. It implies a lot more than it means, though--that he had loved Paige, and maybe Stiles loves him that much, if not more, too. ] That is, should that situation ever come up. I'm sure you know I like to be prepared.
nnnnoooooooo.
Rather than drawing away from his touch when he takes his face in his hands, Derek simply looks up at him, expression quiet as he tries to push down everything again. It's been a long time since he's shared this with anyone, and the hurt is still fresh a decade later, because a Hale never passively cares about anyone no matter how hard they try. He grieves still for Paige, for his mother and father, his brother, aunts and uncles and cousins, for his grandmother whose pelt was white as snow in old age. He grieves now for Boyd, and for a time nearly thought he would grieve for Erica.
Looking up at Stiles where he's perched on his lap, holding his face and pressed close to him, he hopes he never has to grieve for him.
Slowly, he slides his hands up from where they've settled, following the path smooth skin has set for him until he can frame Stiles' neck. He can feel his pulse thrumming under his skin, and he could so very easily rip it free from him. But he doesn't want another loved one's blood on his hands, not again. He'd rather drive his claws into his own heart than hurt Stiles, and by this point? He's fairly certain that Stiles knows it, especially with his words. ] I would never think to give you the bite, Stiles. Not unless there were no other choice, where it could save your life. You have no need for it, my clever human.
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but he doesn't care. he'll take the scandal, if it means derek will soften when he looks at him, like he is right now, letting down every wall that he's so tirelessly built up around him. stiles knows what happened, he knows everything, from paige to kate to jennifer, and it makes him angry, makes him proud for how derek has survived to this day. but stiles isn't going to make him survive anymore--if he can provide comfort and warmth and shelter, provide a place for them to argue in safety that won't end in death, offer him a bed to sleep in and food for his stomach, take care of his pack, he will.
his eyes flutter as derek's hands come to his neck, and stiles' mouth curves into a small smile, as he lifts a hand and covers derek's hand with his. ] Well, I will try to avoid life or death situations in the future then, shan't I.
[ his eyes flick down and he stares at his wounds, slowly closing, and murmurs: ] This is amazing.
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Especially not Stiles, who he's grown to love over the past year. It's a terrifying thought, but it's no less true for as difficult as it is for him to address his feelings. Bowing his head forward, he gently brushes his nose against the upturn of Stiles', looking down at his injuries with him in a moment of quiet. They heal slower than normal, but they still heal-- and that's a good sign.
Breathing out, he draws his hands away, touching his fingers to the biggest wound. ] They will, ideally, be scarring by tomorrow.
my dad is watching gladiator |D
derek will protect him. derek has always protected him. he has a feeling that his foolish, beautiful survivor would do anything for stiles, and as terrifying as that thought is, he makes a promise to himself to try and stay out of trouble long enough to let him live a happy life. he has a feeling that it's going to be far more difficult than it sounds.
stiles leans backwards a little and brushes skin that's not tender with his thumb, looking it over. it's already getting better, has been since they sat down, and the cleaning seems to have only expedited the process. ] Good. Perhaps we should get you to bed for the night--rest can only help.
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAAAAAAAINED.
Decidedly human, he's clever as any fox could be, with a heart belonging to the wolves. Of course his place would be here with him, and he'll fight to keep it that way. Even if it only means a day of peace before weeks of chaos, he will take it. A reprieve from the storm that his life has been.
His hands lower, slowly, until they're settling on Stiles' hips as he leans back. It's half a need to make sure he doesn't splash backwards in his typical gracelessness, but also simply because he can do that now. ] That would require getting up, lordling. [ There's a teasing to his tone, tired as it truly is. ]
it's not late enough for the all nighter porn tag show so this happens instead
[ tipping forward again, he presses his fingertips to derek's stubble and plants a kiss on him, small but promising, then carefully starts to untangle himself from his lap, ducking back underneath the water to wash the last of the oils from his skin. there's a lot of words in that kiss that he doesn't really need to say, he thinks, and he pops back up smiling, pushing himself out of the water and up onto the marble floor.
which is freezing, and stiles promptly loses any cool points in his ridiculous flail over to where his britches are waiting in hopes of not freezing his ass off. he's still not completely comfortable with this whole nude thing, and now that derek's healed (or healing) it's a little easier to actually pay attention to such these. so derek gets treated to a sight of his butt for half a second instead of his front as he hurries to pull on his pants, then scampers back over to offer his hand. ]
I'm not complaining.
This place is safe and known, but Stiles is home more than the estate is.
He tips up into the kiss, a soft sound at the back of his throat, something small and content. It's not a noise he ever thought he'd be able to make again, but he takes the meaning of the kiss and the gentle touch and shifts so that he can ensure that all the grime and blood and oils (both from the bath and from the poison) are gone. It's then that he observes Stiles as he gets out of the water, and he barks out a quick laugh as he flails away.
But his attention follows Stiles, and his eyes drop down to his butt without far too much concern. (He has a cluster of spots there, too. Of course he does.) When he starts coming back, though, his eyes lift and he comes forward to take his hand, accepting the help up and out. ]
uwu
stiles'll do whatever it takes to expedite that process, simply because his warrior deserves a happy life. if stiles is lucky enough to be the thing that makes him smile, well, that makes his job that much easier.
he rolls his eyes for show though, anyway, and helps derek out of the water, definitely trying hard not to flick his gaze down. ] Sleep, and perhaps a big breakfast tomorrow in the morning. [ a beat. ] The late morning. Afternoon, maybe.
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So it's easy for Derek to let him help get him out of the water, and he gives a small, full-body shudder before he shakes himself off a little. His hair, mostly, as his head shakes a little and fluffs it up into a softer facsimile of his usual style.
He does not take his hand back. ] Afternoon, I think. If ingrained training allows for it, anyways. [ Exhaustion will likely beat it out, though. ]
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[ and he's obviously not complaining, considering; stiles squeezes the hand in his once, gently, carefully starting to pull him out of the bathhouse. he hides his kind of besotted grin down at the ground as he pauses to grab his tunic from where it'd been waiting with his pants, flinging it over his arm to worry about it later. for now, there's sleep, and tending to his warrior for as long as he needs it. ] Afternoon sounds fine with me. The longer I can avoid the senate attendings I have, the better.
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