[ If one were to say that the king had nightmares, they would find it a slight understatement.
After experiencing so much loss in his life, Derek's got plenty of fuel for the figurative fire-- and how wildly yet awfully appropriate that phrasing is-- survivor's guilt and blood on his hands and the knowledge that it'd all been his fault. Of course things never go right for him, it's as if the universe is trying to give him the punishment he feels he deserves for everything that's happened.
Thus, of course the king has nightmares. Quiet, mostly, until they strike the hardest.
Most nights it's flames and blood, his mind filling in where his memories fail, the strong smell of charred flesh and burning wood. It's hardly new to him, such a typical image that he should be used to it by this point. But it rips into the heart of him, his family dying before his very eyes, his first betrothed smiling and thanking him for ending her pain.
Tonight, it's different. One face that comes to him is familiar, showing itself occasionally-- Scott is the only remaining family he has, Cora still gone from the kingdom and god knows where, Peter a rogue and a traitor, and he's basically been his brother since the younger werewolf was born. But the second has only recently joined the ranks, and it just feels so real--
So when he jerks awake, to warm touch and bright eyes, red flashing in his own, he nearly jerks back. ] No.
[ Because, somehow, Stiles has entered those dark corners of his mind. ]
N--[ Stiles doesn't jerk when Derek shifts, his long fingers wrapped around his wrist, just barely enough to make his fingertips touch, and there's nothing but worry and sympathy, empathy, in those big brown eyes. Stiles has been here before, been through the nightmares so vicious he wakes up screaming, with his dad holding him around the shoulders to keep him from hurting himself, and imagining Derek having to go through that too--well.
He knows he has every reason to.
Derek's life hasn't been what some would call stellar, after all. And even though it's been years since the fire, the death of his sister is probably still fresh, and that's the kind of thing that Stiles thinks probably stays with you forever, the way sometimes he thinks he hears his mother's voice asking him why he killed her in the deep, dark of the night.
Stiles doesn't know how to comfort. But this--this he knows. His hands gentle a little, until the touch is more of a caress than a hold, and his eyebrows knit together, voice going a little softer. ] Hey--hey, big guy, it's a dream. It was just a dream.
[ It takes a moment for clarity to really sink in, Derek's heart thundering in his chest and his pulse racing where Stiles' fingers curl around his wrist. The red in his eyes starts to fade away, but that's the only shift-- there are no fangs, there are no claws, no fur or sign of something more wolfish. Just fight or flight rearing its head, with something leaning more towards flight in the way that he looks at Stiles. Maybe it's part of his subconscious deciding not to defend himself, guilt too heavy. Maybe it's another part reminding him that the last thing he saw was Stiles' face, and then he woke up to it, he doesn't want to hurt him.
Whatever it is, he looks at Stiles for a long moment, pale eyes scanning his face as he takes him in. He registers the touch, the attempt to soothe, but it takes a little bit longer for him to really remember how to breathe properly. Waking from a nightmare makes him feel like he's drowning, can only pull in ash and soot and smoke, but eventually he lets out a shuddering breath and sits up a little more.
Bringing a hand up, he covers his face, rubs away sweat as he lets Stiles bring him back down. Just a dream-- Derek's life since he was fifteen has been a nightmare, and that has been his reality. It would be good if it all started to fade away like a dream after waking. ]
[ Stiles lets go of his hands when Derek goes to scrub at his face, and tries to frantically calm the way his own heart is pounding in his chest. He was terrified, for half a second, that somebody was trying to kill Derek--it was a very real threat, considering his position as the king was something you might call wanted. For Stiles, at least, he can take half a comfort in the fact that that was just a dream, that he can try and help pull Derek out of the freakout he'd been having in the way that Derek would for him.
Part of that is touching, at least a little bit, anchoring yourself to reality. Stiles' hand moves to rest on his shoulder instead, calloused skin on smooth muscle, and he offers a small smile, rubbing the spot. He's relieved--so, so relieved--but it's overwhelmed by concern for Derek at the moment, instead. ] Happens to the best of us. Even Scott gets nightmares.
[ Without really thinking, Derek leans into Stiles' touch against his shoulder. Some part of him would deeply prefer an assassination attempt to the nightmares, because at least that would be something he could fight. Some physical thing he could wrap his hands around and tear to pieces, rather than succumb to an imagined thing with tangible weight.
A shaky exhale leaves him again, and he brings his hand away from his face to trace fingertips over Stiles' hand, following the top of his palm to his knuckles, overlapping his fingers and sitting there for a long moment in silence. The contact is appreciated, despite how frequently he shies away from any attempts typically made. There are some people that get away with it, obviously-- Scott and Stiles chief among them-- but most days he doesn't reciprocate the same as they would.
Most days he doesn't return the touch of hands. Bad memories go with that particular gesture. ]
He didn't used to have as many. [ Finally getting some control of himself again, he lifts his eyes to look at Stiles. ]
Trauma tends to do that to people. [ Stiles doesn't even move, doesn't even breathe when he feels Derek move over his hand. There's something special, some kind of electricity in the contact between them, and Stiles finally breathes again when the silence settles. Derek doesn't touch, he doesn't really move in on anyone, no matter how close Stiles has gotten to him in the year or so since he's arrived in the Hale kingdom, and a part of him aches with how bad the dream must have been to have him acting like this.
Stiles returns his gaze though, steady, eyebrows knitted together in worry. Scott didn't stir, possibly from his room being so far from Derek's, but Stiles did. Maybe there's something important about that--maybe Stiles is becoming a true emissary, that he's so attuned to his alpha that he can hear him in any time of distress. It'll be a good thing when there's actual distress, if someone does try to kill him, and his stomach lurches a little nervously at the thought, heartbeat skipping.
He has to stay calm, though. Be the anchor he's always tried to be. ] I didn't either.
[ A wry snort leaves him, disdainful and dark humor there. Trauma does a lot to people, leaves them absolute wrecks some days. Scott holds it together pretty well, in the absence of their family-- they'd been so lucky to narrowly avoid being there when it happened, even if he takes moments to question just how lucky it is to live after their family has gone. All of them, wolf and human alike.
And then Laura was taken from them, not that long ago. If only she could have survived. A piece of him, the one that used to look up to his sister, thinks that maybe she could've held it all together.
There's no denying that he can hear every shift in Stiles, the way his heart skips and his breathing stutters in response. He simply sits and watches him, senses so finely tuned that he could likely find his budding emissary clear across the castle-- perhaps clear across the surrounding castletown, even-- but here, in the quiet of the night? It's every single slightest thing.
He rubs his thumb, absently, against the line of his knuckles. ] I haven't had a good dream in a long time.
[ Quietly, Stiles looks down at their joined hands, then turns his fingers into the spaces between Derek's, so that he can properly twine them together. It's an intimate gesture to say the least, but there's nothing really nervous in it, at least not at the moment--maybe Stiles can't find the words to make it better, but there's always been sort of an unspoken connection between the two of them, since day one.
Lifting his head up, Stiles finally turns his gaze away to look at the ceiling. It's a contemplative thing, as he ponders his own dreams, a series of nightmares where he killed everyone he loved in order to cause chaos. ] Me either.
I mean, the last time I thought I had an awesome dream, I got hired at a freakin castle. [ His mouth lifts up, a little lopsidedly, and he turns his gaze onto Derek again, brown eyes searching his face. ] So it's hard to top that.
[ There's neither resistance nor tension when Stiles twines their fingers together, and instead Derek settles comfortably as he drops his eyes down to their joined hands. But he doesn't speak, just takes the warmth of his touch and his presence as his own heart steadies, his nerves calms, his breathing evens. To be perfectly honest, there's no chance that he's going to be going back to sleep tonight. Hell, he might not even sleep tomorrow, either. Which isn't the best thing, considering the fact that they're preparing for the arrival of the Yukimura guests in the upcoming days.
Still, it's not as if he's slept well for a solid decade.
A small hum is all he offers Stiles at first, but then Derek looks at him once more and regards him thoughtfully. Angling his head the slightest bit towards him as those giant, amber eyes watch him, he squeezes his fingers gently around Stiles'. ] You know, you were a nightmare for the longest time.
Now, not so much. [ You just have a place in them now. ] It's good that you came.
[ He can almost feel Derek starting to settle beside him, and it makes some of the tension loosen in his shoulders; Stiles slumps a little and leans in closer. He's exhausted, having spent the past few days in difficult, training magic lessons with Deaton, but for Derek? For Derek he'd stay up all night.
If it meant he didn't have to see that red-eyed panic in his face one more time, Stiles'd never sleep again.
He's a little surprised with the affection, because Derek isn't exactly what you'd call a loving boss (well, he's lovably grumpy, usually. And an unmitigated asshole, but Stiles totally digs that, so it's fine.) and he can't help the warmth that squeezes around his chest as he ducks his gaze away. ]
I grow on people, it's what I do. Not everyone's Scott, but everyone comes around to his taste in people eventually. Even if they're jerks. [ His laugh is a little self deprecating, but not in a bad way. ]
Came now, or...? [ He probably already knows the answer. ]
Saying you grow on people makes you sound like you're a fungus. But, Scott has good taste in friends. [ Women? Not so much. He and Scott are alike in this regard.
Though he should send Stiles back to bed, Derek takes one moment to be selfish. A king should never be selfish, should be impartial but understanding and giving where it's needed. But here, he's going to take something for himself, especially when it's something that he often times pushes away every time that it rears its head.
It's not something he wants to think about, even now. But it lingers.
His expression softens a little, and he keeps his gaze on Stiles even as he drops his own. ] Came to the castle. Came now. [ For a second, he goes silent, before quietly admitting more. ] Came any time that I needed you there.
Most of the time, yeah. [ Stiles has this intense dislike of one of Scott's knights, but that's a story for another time and place. (Maybe if he'd stop being so smarmy Stiles would like him more.)
A part of him wants to suggest staying here. Derek needs to sleep, with the Yukimura meeting coming up so soon--the last thing he needs is to be so sleep deprived he loses his patience and makes something go horribly wrong. Not that Stiles really thinks Derek will but...you never know, in high stress situations like this. The king has a temper on him, and Stiles has known that since day one.
Then again, he spent a lot of time provoking said temper, so.
But he also brings out these quiet moments, too. He's done it hundreds of times, but never quite in this situation, where Derek is holding his hand, and there's kind of a husky intimacy to his voice that comes from waking up in the middle of the night. Stiles looks at him for a second, a little touched, before shutting his mouth and shaking his head, smile small on his face. ] That's part of what a good emissary does, right? Takes care of the alpha.
[ but maybe he's gone above and beyond the call of duty. ] You just... [ A hand comes up to gesture, but he puts it down again with a small smack against his thighs. ] ...you deserve someone to be there when you need it. Just because you're the king doesn't mean you're some kinda infallible fortress. I mean, you put that on awesomely for everyone else, but...
It's just an act, y'know? [ At least he knows that--or, well, Stiles thinks he does. ]
[ Personally, Derek's fairly fond of the one knight that Stiles doesn't get along with. Then again, he and Isaac have a lot in common, where their senses of humor mesh well and so do their loyalties. (It's also hilarious to watch him and Stiles butt heads, he's not even going to lie.)
He knows better than to think that he can get through the Yukimura negotiations in person without sleep. His patience is, surprisingly, rather extensive when it's tested. But there comes a point where it's strained, could so very easily snap, and that's when his temper flares bright. And he goes from having a surprising amount of patience to an unsurprising temper, sharp and vicious and biting when provoked.
Stiles has seen it, and he knows that it's going to be in the forefront of his mind when the guests arrive.
Now, he's too tired for anger. It's there, in the pit of his chest as it always is, but the flames aren't stoked. He leans against the headboard of his bed, thumb absently tracing along the outside of Stiles' hand in a brief gesture of... he doesn't know. Comfort, affection, something softer than he typically offers. They do have their quiet moments, but this is different. ] Typically.
[ If he sounds a little bitter, underneath the calm almost-melancholy that's starting to settle over him in the light of his night scare, well who can blame him? Deaton disregards him most of the time in favor of Scott. But here's Stiles, standing in for him, and he watches his hand rise and fall. ] It's good to pretend that I am that infallible fortress. [ It's difficult to admit, but he does. ]
Especially when I was never primed for this. Laura was going to rule after our mother, and I'd never been given any training for it. No schooling for policies and treaties, no etiquette. I was going to be a royal knight, that was all. And now, here we are.
[ It's information he already knew, but to hear it from Derek's mouth is something else entirely--anything Stiles was going to say is more or less stolen from him as he watches Derek's thumb shift across his palm, soaks in his words.
It takes him a little while to properly say anything back as he chews that one over. It must have hurt, to lose all of your family, and then not only be forced to rule, but to basically be ignored in favor of your younger brother. Stiles speaks up softly, addressing Derek with a look, as if he can try and pin him to his gaze, to try and make him understand. ] I think you've done an awesome job, dude. Circumstances included.
[ And there are a fuckton of circumstances, between the fire, Laura's death, Cora's disappearance and Deaton's general ignorance of the alpha. Stiles has a feeling that the fact that Derek can overcome all of this adversity means he's going to do--that he is doing--great things. ] I wouldn't be here if you weren't worth fighting for.
[ Though it's not exactly uncommon knowledge, Derek doesn't make a point to talk about it. But here, with Stiles, it's all right. With Stiles, he's come to learn over the past year or so that he can actually let go. And so it's developed into this, where he can sit comfortably with him, even going so far as to holding his hand.
Something softly amused enters his expression, though maybe it shouldn't given the content they're addressing. But it's a fond amusement, quiet and focused solely on Stiles. Only for him. Even as he speaks, though, he takes in what he says, meets his gaze and doesn't look away. ] I shouldn't be as amused as I am that you call the king dude.
[ But he inclines his head, chuffing quietly-- amusement and self-depreciation and something more all rolled into one-- before he squeezes his hand again. ] I got luckier than I deserve, I think. But I can't say I ever expected this.
It's a term of endearment, dude. Besides, now I've figured out that you're not gonna rip my head off if I drop the your highness and go full first-name basis. [ Stiles smiles at him, even when Derek looks a little amused in return (because that is like Christmas, when he can get Derek to smile at him--it's his birthday when he smiles so hard his eyes crinkle) and wiggles his eyebrows and his fingers on his free hand. ] Y'know, testing my limits.
[ He wants to defend Derek--because he deserves luck, god, the last thing he deserves is to have his life get even more shitty--but what he says and the way he squeezes Stiles' hand makes his heart do a backflip, and he has to swallow down a lump of butterflies in his throat. ] What, the insomnia? Because I'm pretty sure that's a part of most political positions.
Well, it'd certainly been tempting the first dozen times you did it. Especially when it was in front of the court. [ Which is... a little bit of a lie, but Derek likes being treated like a person and not like some untouchable thing. King, alpha, werewolf. Stiles recognizes he's all of these things, but he doesn't act like he's any different. ] You're going to have a hard time when the Yukimuras get here.
[ His senses pick up his reaction, and for a second he can't help but wonder if he should leave it be. This is the thing that he leaves alone, that he doesn't think about despite its attempts to barge its way into the forefront of things. ] No, Stiles. Not the insomnia.
[ The corners of his eyes crinkle a little, affection and amusement. ]
I'm supposed to be working rn but Blackboard won't load. So I guess it wants me to tag.
Hey! I am completely capable of pretending that I'm properly terrified of you, trust me on that one [ He grins, bows his head, and puts on a fake cowed look. ] Your Majesty.
[ He's kind of half trying to make Derek laugh, if only because that's just how he knows how to help people--Stiles can recall his mother telling him funny stories when he was a child and scared of the dark. Derek's monsters aren't tangible, but Stiles'll fight them away the best he can, anyway.
He kinks an eyebrow in Derek's direction, though, the sarcastic joke from before falling away from his face. ] What, then?
I miss the days you used to be actually terrified of me. [ A laugh startles out of him as intended, brief and tired but still a laugh as Stiles puts on the face of a proper servant and addresses him as he actually should. But he doesn't really mean what he says, especially since he's always known that even when Stiles was afraid of him, he was never intimidated.
With the question, he tips his head so that his temple is resting against the headboard of the bed, something actually far too big for one person. Though he can't say it doesn't suit him, given the fact that his life might as well be too big for one person.
And he just considers Stiles for a moment, before he says anything. ] Arguments and bickering aside, that I would ever get along with you. That... this-- [ He gestures a little with their joined hands. ]
Liar. [ Stiles is 100% ready to call him on that, because he kind of enjoys the fact that he and the King have gotten a lot closer. It's a quiet little thing that he hasn't really shared with anyone, except maybe Scott, but anyone who's seen them in a room together can see it, the matching spark that they carry. If Derek's a candle then Stiles is his shield, holding him like the beacon he is to shelter them both from the night, because he doesn't see anchors like werewolves do--but if he did, Derek would be that for him, too. Maybe it's how different they are, but Stiles can find his center in his eagle sharp gaze.
He lets Derek tip over and doesn't really move with him, keeping his distance and trying to regulate his heartbeat, train it to lie to him and pretend that it doesn't make his throat close up when Derek gets this close. He's the King, he's the king, he's the king and you're not even a real emissary yet. ] Yeah, well, you might be stubborn, but I am the king. One time I went without food for three days because my dad wouldn't let me learn how to ride a horse.
[ His mom snuck him snacks, but that's beside the point. Stiles turns to look at him, returns his consideration with a small, soft smile. ] I told you like forever ago, I wasn't going anywhere.
[ Leveling Stiles with a flat look that doesn't stick-- Derek winds up letting a smile curl across his mouth again, eyes crinkling at the corners before he closes them-- he chuffs a soft laugh. He doesn't lie, though people expect kings to lie frequently, simply withholds things. But here, it is a lie, because he prefers this thing they have now. It would be so much better if he didn't have to pretend there wasn't more between them, even now in the quiet of the night when it's just the two of them. Scott gives them both knowing looks some days, when he comes across them with their heads bent close together over books and papers, treaties, territory lines, patrol reports.
Another actual laugh escapes him, though he still keeps his eyes closed. It's easier to not look at him when they're sitting so close like this, though there's meaning behind the fact that he can actually sit with him and trust him enough to let his guard down. But he pretends there isn't. ] That doesn't surprise me in the least. I also expect you probably fell off the first horse you ever tried to ride, though.
[ It's only then that he opens his eyes to look at him, catching that smile and lying to himself when it tightens something in the midst of his chest, where it'd been hollow for years. ] Your tenacity knows no bounds.
[ Derek smiles at him and his heart does, actually, do a backflip--Stiles has to swallow and turn his gaze away the minute Derek shuts his eyes again, because he's not good at hiding his feelings, he really never has been. And for as much as Derek pisses him off, he always straddles this line of wanting to strangle him and kiss him at the same time. Doing that for a year?
It's a long time. Stiles is really good at waiting, but this is one he won't ever get to have. But his heart is stupid and battered, and loved a princess before it loved a king--he needs to work on getting his standards down to a manageable level, maybe--and that much doesn't seem to be changing anytime soon.
Particularly while Derek's still holding his hand, pinning his gaze. He looks right at him, unafraid, mouth lifted in a tiny, lopsided smile. ] Broke my leg, yeah.
[ Stiles shakes his head and looks down, but doesn't take his hand away. He's so fucked. ] I'm not the only one.
[ because that's something he admires about Derek--he literally never gives up, when he has every reason to. ]
[ It's probably a good thing for both of them that Derek has the good grace to pretend that he doesn't pick up every subtle change of Stiles' heart and scent and breathing, the way his jackrabbit pulse leaps ahead of itself. Instead he just tries to keep his own from lodging itself in his throat, as something warm weaves itself into his ribs and tries to give life to the thing that was burnt out encased in them.
They've had a year to get to this point, and some part of him wishes that they hadn't. Because they aren't allowed more than this-- though who is he kidding? He's the king, he can change the laws if he wishes. It wouldn't be that difficult, despite the fit the council would have over it. Not that they've ever seen him to be a fit ruler in the first place. Apparently there's only a handful of people who think that he can handle the throne.
One of them sits with him now, their fingers entwined. ] Of course you did. Just how many adventures did you have that ended with you hurting yourself, I wonder.
[ He can't help but duck his head a little, laughing ruefully. ] What a pair of bullheaded idiots we make.
[ Truth be told, Derek doesn't see his own tenacity as something to be admired. But he will continue to hold on until the very end, even if it results in his death. ]
[ For all it seems, Derek's acting like he might have been distracted from the nightmare. That's good--Stiles' main point was to get him thinking about literally anything else. Whether it's the development of their relationship to this point or not, he'll take it, to not see that horribly haunted look in the king's eyes again.
Stiles lifts his gaze to the ceiling, rolling his eyes dramatically, and nudges him with his shoulder. ] Ye of little faith! Only like, half, maybe.
[ He thinks about his childhood best friend--for as much as he loves Erica, he thinks he might have found his platonic soulmate in Scott McCall--and how many times she got hurt as a result of his less than genius plans. To be fair, she either agreed or created the other half of them, so it was a fifty fifty thing, but still. His schemes had turned to politics since then, and keeping the council off of Derek's back had been his new form of troublemaking. He wasn't the real emissary, so he couldn't give advice at the counselings, but he could show up in the middle with "very important questions" for Deaton and then go on a tirade about suggestions until the council was forced to listen to him and Derek.
He drops his head back down but the smile doesn't get pushed away at all--Stiles just laughs, a quick thing, and shakes his head. ] At least only one of us rules a country.
[ Though he is, at the moment, distracted from the dark dreams that plagued him, Derek knows that this isn't going to last. He's not going to sleep for a few days, but he's braced for it. Used to it. This is a relief to have, for as much as he hates lingering on it.
Still, Stiles draws him away from those thoughts for the meantime. And it's good, for now. ] Really. I don't know, you and Scott get up to all kinds of trouble now.
[ Not that he can really talk. He and Laura got into all kind of trouble before Cora and Scott were born, when they essentially became Derek's responsibility as the elder brother-cousin. Not that he could keep them out of their own shenanigans, considering he got roped into or instigated things a decent amount of time despite his obligation as caretaker. But now, he can't really do all the running around that he used to do. At least he has Stiles there to keep him from going crazy, especially when it comes to the council and dealing with them. Some big part of him anticipates the day that Stiles graduates to actual emissary, because for as much as Deaton has helped the Hales he's done very little for Derek himself.
It makes it difficult for him to feel like he has any idea of what he's doing.
Bringing his hand up where it holds Stiles', he gently jabs their joined hands against his chest. ] Don't remind me, I have the Yukimura alliance hanging over my head already.
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claps gleefully
After experiencing so much loss in his life, Derek's got plenty of fuel for the figurative fire-- and how wildly yet awfully appropriate that phrasing is-- survivor's guilt and blood on his hands and the knowledge that it'd all been his fault. Of course things never go right for him, it's as if the universe is trying to give him the punishment he feels he deserves for everything that's happened.
Thus, of course the king has nightmares. Quiet, mostly, until they strike the hardest.
Most nights it's flames and blood, his mind filling in where his memories fail, the strong smell of charred flesh and burning wood. It's hardly new to him, such a typical image that he should be used to it by this point. But it rips into the heart of him, his family dying before his very eyes, his first betrothed smiling and thanking him for ending her pain.
Tonight, it's different. One face that comes to him is familiar, showing itself occasionally-- Scott is the only remaining family he has, Cora still gone from the kingdom and god knows where, Peter a rogue and a traitor, and he's basically been his brother since the younger werewolf was born. But the second has only recently joined the ranks, and it just feels so real--
So when he jerks awake, to warm touch and bright eyes, red flashing in his own, he nearly jerks back. ] No.
[ Because, somehow, Stiles has entered those dark corners of his mind. ]
late tagssss
He knows he has every reason to.
Derek's life hasn't been what some would call stellar, after all. And even though it's been years since the fire, the death of his sister is probably still fresh, and that's the kind of thing that Stiles thinks probably stays with you forever, the way sometimes he thinks he hears his mother's voice asking him why he killed her in the deep, dark of the night.
Stiles doesn't know how to comfort. But this--this he knows. His hands gentle a little, until the touch is more of a caress than a hold, and his eyebrows knit together, voice going a little softer. ] Hey--hey, big guy, it's a dream. It was just a dream.
grabbies them
Whatever it is, he looks at Stiles for a long moment, pale eyes scanning his face as he takes him in. He registers the touch, the attempt to soothe, but it takes a little bit longer for him to really remember how to breathe properly. Waking from a nightmare makes him feel like he's drowning, can only pull in ash and soot and smoke, but eventually he lets out a shuddering breath and sits up a little more.
Bringing a hand up, he covers his face, rubs away sweat as he lets Stiles bring him back down. Just a dream-- Derek's life since he was fifteen has been a nightmare, and that has been his reality. It would be good if it all started to fade away like a dream after waking. ]
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Part of that is touching, at least a little bit, anchoring yourself to reality. Stiles' hand moves to rest on his shoulder instead, calloused skin on smooth muscle, and he offers a small smile, rubbing the spot. He's relieved--so, so relieved--but it's overwhelmed by concern for Derek at the moment, instead. ] Happens to the best of us. Even Scott gets nightmares.
[ It's a weak joke, but a joke nonetheless. ]
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A shaky exhale leaves him again, and he brings his hand away from his face to trace fingertips over Stiles' hand, following the top of his palm to his knuckles, overlapping his fingers and sitting there for a long moment in silence. The contact is appreciated, despite how frequently he shies away from any attempts typically made. There are some people that get away with it, obviously-- Scott and Stiles chief among them-- but most days he doesn't reciprocate the same as they would.
Most days he doesn't return the touch of hands. Bad memories go with that particular gesture. ]
He didn't used to have as many. [ Finally getting some control of himself again, he lifts his eyes to look at Stiles. ]
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Stiles returns his gaze though, steady, eyebrows knitted together in worry. Scott didn't stir, possibly from his room being so far from Derek's, but Stiles did. Maybe there's something important about that--maybe Stiles is becoming a true emissary, that he's so attuned to his alpha that he can hear him in any time of distress. It'll be a good thing when there's actual distress, if someone does try to kill him, and his stomach lurches a little nervously at the thought, heartbeat skipping.
He has to stay calm, though. Be the anchor he's always tried to be. ] I didn't either.
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And then Laura was taken from them, not that long ago. If only she could have survived. A piece of him, the one that used to look up to his sister, thinks that maybe she could've held it all together.
There's no denying that he can hear every shift in Stiles, the way his heart skips and his breathing stutters in response. He simply sits and watches him, senses so finely tuned that he could likely find his budding emissary clear across the castle-- perhaps clear across the surrounding castletown, even-- but here, in the quiet of the night? It's every single slightest thing.
He rubs his thumb, absently, against the line of his knuckles. ] I haven't had a good dream in a long time.
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Lifting his head up, Stiles finally turns his gaze away to look at the ceiling. It's a contemplative thing, as he ponders his own dreams, a series of nightmares where he killed everyone he loved in order to cause chaos. ] Me either.
I mean, the last time I thought I had an awesome dream, I got hired at a freakin castle. [ His mouth lifts up, a little lopsidedly, and he turns his gaze onto Derek again, brown eyes searching his face. ] So it's hard to top that.
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Still, it's not as if he's slept well for a solid decade.
A small hum is all he offers Stiles at first, but then Derek looks at him once more and regards him thoughtfully. Angling his head the slightest bit towards him as those giant, amber eyes watch him, he squeezes his fingers gently around Stiles'. ] You know, you were a nightmare for the longest time.
Now, not so much. [ You just have a place in them now. ] It's good that you came.
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If it meant he didn't have to see that red-eyed panic in his face one more time, Stiles'd never sleep again.
He's a little surprised with the affection, because Derek isn't exactly what you'd call a loving boss (well, he's lovably grumpy, usually. And an unmitigated asshole, but Stiles totally digs that, so it's fine.) and he can't help the warmth that squeezes around his chest as he ducks his gaze away. ]
I grow on people, it's what I do. Not everyone's Scott, but everyone comes around to his taste in people eventually. Even if they're jerks. [ His laugh is a little self deprecating, but not in a bad way. ]
Came now, or...? [ He probably already knows the answer. ]
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Though he should send Stiles back to bed, Derek takes one moment to be selfish. A king should never be selfish, should be impartial but understanding and giving where it's needed. But here, he's going to take something for himself, especially when it's something that he often times pushes away every time that it rears its head.
It's not something he wants to think about, even now. But it lingers.
His expression softens a little, and he keeps his gaze on Stiles even as he drops his own. ] Came to the castle. Came now. [ For a second, he goes silent, before quietly admitting more. ] Came any time that I needed you there.
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A part of him wants to suggest staying here. Derek needs to sleep, with the Yukimura meeting coming up so soon--the last thing he needs is to be so sleep deprived he loses his patience and makes something go horribly wrong. Not that Stiles really thinks Derek will but...you never know, in high stress situations like this. The king has a temper on him, and Stiles has known that since day one.
Then again, he spent a lot of time provoking said temper, so.
But he also brings out these quiet moments, too. He's done it hundreds of times, but never quite in this situation, where Derek is holding his hand, and there's kind of a husky intimacy to his voice that comes from waking up in the middle of the night. Stiles looks at him for a second, a little touched, before shutting his mouth and shaking his head, smile small on his face. ] That's part of what a good emissary does, right? Takes care of the alpha.
[ but maybe he's gone above and beyond the call of duty. ] You just... [ A hand comes up to gesture, but he puts it down again with a small smack against his thighs. ] ...you deserve someone to be there when you need it. Just because you're the king doesn't mean you're some kinda infallible fortress. I mean, you put that on awesomely for everyone else, but...
It's just an act, y'know? [ At least he knows that--or, well, Stiles thinks he does. ]
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He knows better than to think that he can get through the Yukimura negotiations in person without sleep. His patience is, surprisingly, rather extensive when it's tested. But there comes a point where it's strained, could so very easily snap, and that's when his temper flares bright. And he goes from having a surprising amount of patience to an unsurprising temper, sharp and vicious and biting when provoked.
Stiles has seen it, and he knows that it's going to be in the forefront of his mind when the guests arrive.
Now, he's too tired for anger. It's there, in the pit of his chest as it always is, but the flames aren't stoked. He leans against the headboard of his bed, thumb absently tracing along the outside of Stiles' hand in a brief gesture of... he doesn't know. Comfort, affection, something softer than he typically offers. They do have their quiet moments, but this is different. ] Typically.
[ If he sounds a little bitter, underneath the calm almost-melancholy that's starting to settle over him in the light of his night scare, well who can blame him? Deaton disregards him most of the time in favor of Scott. But here's Stiles, standing in for him, and he watches his hand rise and fall. ] It's good to pretend that I am that infallible fortress. [ It's difficult to admit, but he does. ]
Especially when I was never primed for this. Laura was going to rule after our mother, and I'd never been given any training for it. No schooling for policies and treaties, no etiquette. I was going to be a royal knight, that was all. And now, here we are.
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It takes him a little while to properly say anything back as he chews that one over. It must have hurt, to lose all of your family, and then not only be forced to rule, but to basically be ignored in favor of your younger brother. Stiles speaks up softly, addressing Derek with a look, as if he can try and pin him to his gaze, to try and make him understand. ] I think you've done an awesome job, dude. Circumstances included.
[ And there are a fuckton of circumstances, between the fire, Laura's death, Cora's disappearance and Deaton's general ignorance of the alpha. Stiles has a feeling that the fact that Derek can overcome all of this adversity means he's going to do--that he is doing--great things. ] I wouldn't be here if you weren't worth fighting for.
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Something softly amused enters his expression, though maybe it shouldn't given the content they're addressing. But it's a fond amusement, quiet and focused solely on Stiles. Only for him. Even as he speaks, though, he takes in what he says, meets his gaze and doesn't look away. ] I shouldn't be as amused as I am that you call the king dude.
[ But he inclines his head, chuffing quietly-- amusement and self-depreciation and something more all rolled into one-- before he squeezes his hand again. ] I got luckier than I deserve, I think. But I can't say I ever expected this.
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[ He wants to defend Derek--because he deserves luck, god, the last thing he deserves is to have his life get even more shitty--but what he says and the way he squeezes Stiles' hand makes his heart do a backflip, and he has to swallow down a lump of butterflies in his throat. ] What, the insomnia? Because I'm pretty sure that's a part of most political positions.
[ Quick, joke to cover your feelings! ]
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[ His senses pick up his reaction, and for a second he can't help but wonder if he should leave it be. This is the thing that he leaves alone, that he doesn't think about despite its attempts to barge its way into the forefront of things. ] No, Stiles. Not the insomnia.
[ The corners of his eyes crinkle a little, affection and amusement. ]
I'm supposed to be working rn but Blackboard won't load. So I guess it wants me to tag.
[ He's kind of half trying to make Derek laugh, if only because that's just how he knows how to help people--Stiles can recall his mother telling him funny stories when he was a child and scared of the dark. Derek's monsters aren't tangible, but Stiles'll fight them away the best he can, anyway.
He kinks an eyebrow in Derek's direction, though, the sarcastic joke from before falling away from his face. ] What, then?
And finally a tag.
With the question, he tips his head so that his temple is resting against the headboard of the bed, something actually far too big for one person. Though he can't say it doesn't suit him, given the fact that his life might as well be too big for one person.
And he just considers Stiles for a moment, before he says anything. ] Arguments and bickering aside, that I would ever get along with you. That... this-- [ He gestures a little with their joined hands. ]
uwu
He lets Derek tip over and doesn't really move with him, keeping his distance and trying to regulate his heartbeat, train it to lie to him and pretend that it doesn't make his throat close up when Derek gets this close. He's the King, he's the king, he's the king and you're not even a real emissary yet. ] Yeah, well, you might be stubborn, but I am the king. One time I went without food for three days because my dad wouldn't let me learn how to ride a horse.
[ His mom snuck him snacks, but that's beside the point. Stiles turns to look at him, returns his consideration with a small, soft smile. ] I told you like forever ago, I wasn't going anywhere.
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Another actual laugh escapes him, though he still keeps his eyes closed. It's easier to not look at him when they're sitting so close like this, though there's meaning behind the fact that he can actually sit with him and trust him enough to let his guard down. But he pretends there isn't. ] That doesn't surprise me in the least. I also expect you probably fell off the first horse you ever tried to ride, though.
[ It's only then that he opens his eyes to look at him, catching that smile and lying to himself when it tightens something in the midst of his chest, where it'd been hollow for years. ] Your tenacity knows no bounds.
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It's a long time. Stiles is really good at waiting, but this is one he won't ever get to have. But his heart is stupid and battered, and loved a princess before it loved a king--he needs to work on getting his standards down to a manageable level, maybe--and that much doesn't seem to be changing anytime soon.
Particularly while Derek's still holding his hand, pinning his gaze. He looks right at him, unafraid, mouth lifted in a tiny, lopsided smile. ] Broke my leg, yeah.
[ Stiles shakes his head and looks down, but doesn't take his hand away. He's so fucked. ] I'm not the only one.
[ because that's something he admires about Derek--he literally never gives up, when he has every reason to. ]
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They've had a year to get to this point, and some part of him wishes that they hadn't. Because they aren't allowed more than this-- though who is he kidding? He's the king, he can change the laws if he wishes. It wouldn't be that difficult, despite the fit the council would have over it. Not that they've ever seen him to be a fit ruler in the first place. Apparently there's only a handful of people who think that he can handle the throne.
One of them sits with him now, their fingers entwined. ] Of course you did. Just how many adventures did you have that ended with you hurting yourself, I wonder.
[ He can't help but duck his head a little, laughing ruefully. ] What a pair of bullheaded idiots we make.
[ Truth be told, Derek doesn't see his own tenacity as something to be admired. But he will continue to hold on until the very end, even if it results in his death. ]
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Stiles lifts his gaze to the ceiling, rolling his eyes dramatically, and nudges him with his shoulder. ] Ye of little faith! Only like, half, maybe.
[ He thinks about his childhood best friend--for as much as he loves Erica, he thinks he might have found his platonic soulmate in Scott McCall--and how many times she got hurt as a result of his less than genius plans. To be fair, she either agreed or created the other half of them, so it was a fifty fifty thing, but still. His schemes had turned to politics since then, and keeping the council off of Derek's back had been his new form of troublemaking. He wasn't the real emissary, so he couldn't give advice at the counselings, but he could show up in the middle with "very important questions" for Deaton and then go on a tirade about suggestions until the council was forced to listen to him and Derek.
He drops his head back down but the smile doesn't get pushed away at all--Stiles just laughs, a quick thing, and shakes his head. ] At least only one of us rules a country.
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Still, Stiles draws him away from those thoughts for the meantime. And it's good, for now. ] Really. I don't know, you and Scott get up to all kinds of trouble now.
[ Not that he can really talk. He and Laura got into all kind of trouble before Cora and Scott were born, when they essentially became Derek's responsibility as the elder brother-cousin. Not that he could keep them out of their own shenanigans, considering he got roped into or instigated things a decent amount of time despite his obligation as caretaker. But now, he can't really do all the running around that he used to do. At least he has Stiles there to keep him from going crazy, especially when it comes to the council and dealing with them. Some big part of him anticipates the day that Stiles graduates to actual emissary, because for as much as Deaton has helped the Hales he's done very little for Derek himself.
It makes it difficult for him to feel like he has any idea of what he's doing.
Bringing his hand up where it holds Stiles', he gently jabs their joined hands against his chest. ] Don't remind me, I have the Yukimura alliance hanging over my head already.
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