laography | everybody wants to rule the world

Surprise, they decided that things were a little too boring for their liking. [ If they're still listening, Derek doesn't even care. He slanders them on the regular, anyways. Why not for the entire nation to hear? But there's more important things to be doing, or at least he should be multitasking, so he shifts where he's seated, swinging a leg up so that he's no longer straddling the branch. Stiles gets no immediate answer, as he adjusts and gauges, and then moves again.

It lets him settle on his back, eventually, and he looks up at Stiles before holding his hands up for him and gesturing a little. ] Making our lives easier. Come here.

Oh. [ He says that kind of stupidly out loud--he probably should have guessed that. Stiles wasn't planning on getting this up close and personal but survival begets a lot of things, apparently, and that same tightly satisfied feeling in his chest practically roars with delight.

Great.

Feeling suddenly more nervous about this than he was about practically killing his fair share of werewolves, Stiles jitters forward and slides into the space of his lap, cheek able to tuck under his chin as it gets closer to sleep. He gets what's going on and starts to help Derek tie the cables around them both, pulling the heat blanket over them both as the temperature in the dome starts to fall, slowly but surely. And as he clips the cables securely down around the tree trunk, he comes down and ends up face to face with Derek, just a couple inches away from him.

Any camera focusing on the other tributes swung around to them in a matter of seconds.

Stiles smiles a little awkwardly, flushing pink high in his cheeks, and pillows his arms against his chest, comfortable. ] Deeeefinitely warmer than roughing it alone. Uh, hi.

[ Ever since the games had started, since Stiles was sent into the fray, Derek has been on edge. He's a walking line of tension, rough on all edges and bristled constantly. But the moment that Stiles comes forward, settles his weight in his lap and draws closer, it seems to melt slowly out of his body. Something twists in his chest, before it loosens, and he finally lets it go instead of ignoring it.

He at least focuses on the task at hand, first, before he indulges it in any way. It takes a lot of maneuvering to get the cabling set up, but at least it's done and they won't be falling out of the tree any time soon. And Stiles, who has been sleeping in trees for two nights already, doesn't have to have that discomfort for a night. To him, that's worth the inevitable kink in his neck and the soreness in his back that comes from this position.

Eyebrows twitching upwards as Stiles settles down against his chest, Derek looks up at him, actually feeling rather content despite everything around them. Though he waits a second, his hands do come up so that he can slide his arms around Stiles' waist under the heat blanket, corner of his mouth quirking a little lopsidedly. ] Glad to be of service. [ Sarcasm, first, but then it softens. ] Hi.

[ It's a moment of happiness in what's been two days of darkness, a small spot of joy in the warmth of the other body suddenly under his. It's the first time he's felt like he could let his guard down since his arrival in the capital, let alone since the game started, and while there's no way he's going to just let go, it's a comforting thought--that he's going to be safe for the night. Just to be safe, he'd cut down a few branches on their way up; Stiles had planned a separate escape route for the morning, leaving them okay just in case someone tried to make things interesting in the dead of night.

For now--at least for this very moment--all he had to worry about was Derek. And that, as his instincts were happy to remind him, was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Stiles rests his chin on his hands as he gets settled, returning Derek's (stupidly attractive) lopsided grin with one of his own, shifting a little under the arms around his waist. ] It's gonna be a real personal six hours.

[ Anything could happen, in the middle of the night. Just because the gamemakers step back a little for a couple hours doesn't mean that the betas and alphas that remain will. Derek knows better than the think otherwise. But here, dozens of feet in the air and tied to a tree, things are going to be all right. They have an escape route, they can bolt at a moment's notice-- barring being jarred from what little rest they can get-- and they're together in this mess.

And he's perfectly all right with that last part. His guard remains up, but Derek's focus begins to close in on just Stiles, on the way that he's truly relaxed for the first time since they met. A quiet rumble vibrates his chest, almost soundless in the quiet of the night. ]

Things are obviously going so well, why not indulge and make it eight? [ The grin spreads a little, as he shifts his hands so that he can brush his thumb up and down along the shape of Stiles' spine through the material of his suit. ]

I guess if we're gonna die this is probably a good way to go. [ He snorts, because those last two hours would probably end in them getting murdered, if not by the gamemakers than by a beta who found their little perch. Stiles is kind of enjoying not being dead at the moment, and his advantage is precious and tender and he's not going to let it go anytime soon.

(Not to mention, his advantage is also probably his greatest weakness--Stiles has a very small list of people he'd take a wolfsbane bullet for, and Derek Hale is near the top of it. So their only option to both come out of this alive is to keep working together.)

The rumble is relaxing against his chest, and he drops his cheek down to his shoulder and shuts his eyes, trying to focus on that. But every time he closes them, he sees nothing but Ennis' head, the wide, empty eyes, and he jerks them open again, curling his hand in the top of Derek's suit. ] Sorry you've gotta rough it out here instead of enjoying life in the lap of luxury again.

[ The way he says that is joking--he can't really imagine Derek living in the lap of luxury, at least not by choice.]

Yes, tied to a tree. [ He's joking just as much as Stiles does, because there's no bite to his voice. And when he opens his eyes again, abrupt and familiar in a way that aches in Derek's chest, he eases a hand up along his back. It's a soothing trail, or an attempt thereof, and ends eventually outside of the blanket that Stiles has draped over them. His fingers gentle over the back of his neck, the soft hair at the base of his skull.

Though it's faded over time, because he's had nearly a decade to adjust, adapt, he still remembers the first person he killed in these games. And his eyes were still gold when it happened, despite the weight he felt pressing against him. But no one he killed could be considered innocent, not after everything they'd been put through. It's not as if he can't put two and two together, not after seeing the flash of red in Stiles' eyes and Ennis' profile come nightfall. ]

I like this more, I think. [ His voice comes out a little softer than he intended it to, a sort of murmur as he sets his other hand at the small of his back. ]

It's better than breaking your spine falling out of the tree. [ If you can't have macabre jokes, then what can you have, really? Black humor has been Stiles' way of dealing with everything so far, and it's seeming to get him through. The PTSD's already coming, which makes perfect sense--he just killed someone, after all, with what was more or less his bare hands, but no matter how logical it feels, he can't just ignore it, pretend it doesn't exist.

The hand gentling against his neck is kind of comforting in a basal instinctual kind of way, and Stiles stares into the distance for a couple of seconds, trying to focus on the soft thumping of his heart against his ear, instead. He'll have to take first watch--exhausted or not, Stiles has the distinct feeling he won't be sleeping anytime soon tonight. ]

...me too. [ Lifting his head, he looks at Derek again, brown eyes flicking down to his mouth for half a second before he returns to his eyes, almost a dark blue in the lack of light. It's kind of ridiculous how gorgeous Derek's eyes are, alpha reds or not--there probably aren't words for it in the English language.

It takes him a minute to realize what he said was kind of stupid. ] I mean--uh. Prefer it to what was going on before. Ha. [ Saved it?? ]

Maybe I'd land on someone and take them out in the process. [ As embittered as he is, Derek's own humor coincides rather well with the dark jokes that slip out of Stiles. He's been suffering from PTSD for years now, and today isn't going to make it any better. They still smell a little like smoke, or maybe that's the dome, or maybe even just his mind dredging up the familiar smell. It lingers with him, and the only thing that soothes it away is the warmth of Stiles pressed against him, settled under his hands.

If sleep comes for either of them, it'll come when they least expect it.

Simply looking at Stiles, even when his attention is off into the distance, his expression softens a little more as he meets that warm amber gaze of his. Dark as it is now on the island, they still stand out, big and bright and looking at him. Later on he'll laugh at the fact that he hasn't felt this comfortable in eight years. ]

At least I make a decent bed. [ Teasing as it is, he slips his hand around from the back of his neck to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheek. He can't help but follow the zig-zagging constellation that marks a path over his smooth skin, almost on instinct. ]

Talk about a dead weight. [ Smiling a little, Stiles turns his full attention back on Derek, tilting his head just so into the path his thumb follows on his cheek. It makes a flush light up under his fingers, as the touch is soft and affectionate and has a lot more behind it than just following his moles.

Derek makes a lot more than a decent bed, let's put it like that.

He's not sure how to broach the subject, the fact that he's got Derek here, that his instincts are practically screaming at him to make a move already, that this is a lot more than the schoolyard crush he had in Beacon Hills. It's more like what his mom and his dad had, before she passed away. What Scott and Allison appear to have.

Figures Stiles would find his in the middle of a competition about mass murder. ] Man, I wish I'd like--done something more interesting with my life before this. Like when they asked me to go up there and talk, I didn't have anything to say. Hi, my name is Stiles, my first name is unpronounceable and I volunteered for the games because my best friend would get killed in an hour.

[ A little wistfully. ] I have like ten more games I wanted to beat. And I would've--I dunno, liked to see my own kids someday. Hellions, yeah, but still kids. Maybe spent some time with a mate, y'know?

[ With the mate. The one he's currently using as a pillow. That's exactly what this is, and he knows it. ]

Badum tsh. [ Said in a complete deadpan. Still, Derek's mouth curls down in a quiet smile back, something simple and small but backed by something greater. He continues following the path of stars that the moles make, back and forth as if he's memorizing them, remembering them for later. And maybe he is, because he's used to losing everything he's ever cared about. He's spent the last six years alone, with few allies and even fewer friends. His heart has been closed off, and he's built iron walls around himself that have been stronger than the games' barriers.

And then, Stiles came into his life and a spark ignited itself in the remains buried away in the pit of his chest.

Maybe he should question it. There had been a similar feeling, with Paige. One that was mutual, what felt absolutely right. But he's forgotten the full warmth of it, even as he holds onto everything that Paige was at the back of his mind. Stiles is his own person, and the sensation almost burns under his skin as his instincts sing at him. This is it, this is the piece he's been missing for so long. What can make him whole again.

Listening, his brow furrows the slightest before he draws his other hand up from the dip at the small of his back. Cradling his face, gently, in both hands, he brushes his thumbs over the high sweep of his cheeks, following the warmth of them even as he feels something warm creeping up his neck. ] You do realize you're going to get to do all of that, right?

[ His eyes search Stiles', taking him in. ] Because you're not going to die here. I'm not going to let you-- and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. So we'll get through this, and we'll get there. You and me.

You and me, huh.

[ You and me. He said the same thing to Derek earlier, when he was pulling him out of the fire. It was just the two of them, and they were going to get out of this okay. The phrase "two victors" had been Stiles' hope the minute Derek's pictures flashed up on the dome. He knew if they met up, if they made it to this point, the two of them could make it to the end. And he doesn't want to get his hopes up any further--doesn't want to get Derek's up any more, either. Because Stiles is starting to see pieces slide into place, and losing Derek and finishing this with another alpha (or vice versa) sounds just as bad as dying right now.

He shifts upwards a little, not moving out of Derek's hands, until he can get one of his up just enough to brush against the stubble of his cheek. Yeah, he wants to do all that. Wants to get out of here alive.

But when he leans forward and closes the distance between them, pressing his mouth to Derek's, what crosses Stiles' mind is simple. I want you to get out of here alive, too. ]

You and me.

[ Ever since Stiles pulled him from the fire, it's basically been his mantra. Putting Derek into the games with Stiles had been a very, very poor decision on the part of the council, because now it was just going to come around and bite them square in the ass. Whether or not they realized the actual magnitude of the mistake didn't matter. They might've been dancing around it at first, both unsure of it and what it meant, of whether they'd survive or not, but it was there.

The alphas had put mates into the running, and they were about to regret it. Because Derek isn't losing another person that he cares about-- that he loves-- and will fight whatever the games throw at them to ensure Stiles' safety. Same as he knows, with instinct practically roaring in delight and purring in contentment, that Stiles is right there with him.

A soft rumble vibrates in his chest, simple but automatic in response to his touch to his cheek. And then, there isn't an ounce of hesitation in him, as he tips up to meet Stiles. It's just a press of lips, but he curls his fingers against the line of Stiles' jaw, something in his chest bursting to life again. ]

[ When Derek responds in kind, Stiles relaxes a little, ignoring what is probably every television in the country attuned to this very moment. It's just Derek for him and his senses now, the chill of his scent contrasting with the warmth of the body underneath his, and he tentatively rests both of his hands on his cheeks, fingertips just barely touching his stubble as he holds his position, kissing him softly.

When he breaks away, it's slowly, and Stiles lifts his head to look at him instead--his eyes had changed during the kiss, but there was nothing aggressive or angry about it. Just a pair of bright red eyes, soft and warm as he smiles a little down at Derek underneath him.

Then, he drops his head and snorts, shaking it. ] This is so typical. [ Not the kiss, but. He shakes his head again, affectionate gaze on Derek. ] I'm literally strapped down to a tree in a competition full of people who are trying to kill people, after I killed someone, and that's when I get to have the big mate revelation. Dude, I am so sorry you got dragged into my life, it's always full of stuff like this.

[ But he's really not that sorry at all. He's not letting go of this now that he found it. ]

[ Derek has known since day one that there are hundreds if not thousands of cameras scattered across the island. The gamemakers can turn them on anyone they want, wherever they want, and it's incredibly hard to get out from beneath their eye. He had managed it a few times with Paige, going underground and off their radar-- at least from the cameras, never the trackers-- but he knows better than to think this moment is private.

It doesn't change it any for him, and he focuses on Stiles like the rest of the world is gone, touch soft and kiss softer. Like a quiet realization, and really that's what it is.

As he pulls back, looks at him, there's a matching pair of red eyes looking back at him. Easy, comfortable, like Stiles has lit something warm in him in sharp contrast to that blazing fire that he pulled him out of. And he just watches him, even as he drops his head down. He makes an amused noise in response, slipping his hands down a little to curl against his neck. ] The media's been following my life since I was first in the games. I'm pretty sure you've seen exactly what you're in for with this.

[ He brushes his nose into the upturn of his, thumbing along either side of his jaw. ]

everybody wants to rule the world

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