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[ being elevated to the position of king's advisor was not something to be taken lightly. well--okay, it wouldn't be, if stiles actually was that. at the moment, he was an apprentice, working underneath the actual king's advisor, a man by the name of alan deaton. stiles had been chosen for a reason, apparently; he'd actually gotten into an argument with the king of all freakin people on the day he'd been brought in on his father's, a sheriff of a local town, heels, he'd run into the king and argued with him about the fact that his dad had lost a district that was under his protection when he'd clearly not deserved it, and brought up his dad's shining record as a sheriff right to the king's face.
his father was promoted to head of the kingsguard and stiles? well, here he was, studying politics and getting into more, albeit less random and more appropriate, arguments with said king. he got along famously with prince scott, and was pretty much attached at his hip from the first day, but while dr. deaton focused on advising the young prince into taking the throne someday, stiles found himself interacting more and more with king derek hale.
they had to train scott, because the same thing had just happened to derek; the rest of the hale family had been wiped away in a vicious arson, leaving only derek and scott alive. but stiles didn't really think it was fair that the actual king didn't get that much concrete help.
so he tried. he tried his goddamn best to make sure that derek was making good decisions, talking him through arguments, doing anything and everything a good advisor was supposed to do. at the moment, that was dealing in a political alliance wanting to be arranged by the yukimura family from the east and trying to decide how to set it up.
he's lying flat on his back on derek's table when derek arrives, ten minutes early and holding what looks like a huge book over his head, flipping pages, brown eyes scanning the pages and occasionally grabbing a quill to make markings in the margins. this position of reading has mostly ended up with getting splotches of ink on his face, but at least he's focused. ]
his father was promoted to head of the kingsguard and stiles? well, here he was, studying politics and getting into more, albeit less random and more appropriate, arguments with said king. he got along famously with prince scott, and was pretty much attached at his hip from the first day, but while dr. deaton focused on advising the young prince into taking the throne someday, stiles found himself interacting more and more with king derek hale.
they had to train scott, because the same thing had just happened to derek; the rest of the hale family had been wiped away in a vicious arson, leaving only derek and scott alive. but stiles didn't really think it was fair that the actual king didn't get that much concrete help.
so he tried. he tried his goddamn best to make sure that derek was making good decisions, talking him through arguments, doing anything and everything a good advisor was supposed to do. at the moment, that was dealing in a political alliance wanting to be arranged by the yukimura family from the east and trying to decide how to set it up.
he's lying flat on his back on derek's table when derek arrives, ten minutes early and holding what looks like a huge book over his head, flipping pages, brown eyes scanning the pages and occasionally grabbing a quill to make markings in the margins. this position of reading has mostly ended up with getting splotches of ink on his face, but at least he's focused. ]
[ Scott enjoys reminding Derek frequently of how he and Stiles first met, if only because he finds it infinitely entertaining. However, he's not about to correct either of them on the fact that it was an error in communication that took the district from the elder Stilinski when it hardly matters at this point. Now, the entire kingdom is basically in the man's hands rather than a simple district. Technically his own safety has been entrusted to him, but the king has focused that protection more towards Scott than anyone else.
The fire swept away much of their family. Cora has been missing for months now, Laura taken from them, his uncle unfit to rule and considered a traitor. Now, all he has left is Scott. He's not about to lose him, too.
Even if he's feeling strained, frustrated, some form of resentment building up in him. It's not towards Scott, never towards Scott, but he watches Deaton work with him and prime him to be the king in his stead and he can't help but let it form in the burnt out space of his chest. Though he might understand why the advisor does what he does, it's not as if he was ever prepared for this himself. Laura was going to become the ruler after their mother, but now the position has fallen to him.
And he has no idea what he's doing.
But while Deaton works with Scott-- and Scott gives him apologetic looks for it, sometimes-- Stiles has stepped forward. He doesn't know how this has happened, how they went from errant arguments to Stiles actually helping him, but he's not going to turn it away. They've got a rapport going now, some form of friendship that he's not sure how to actually label, and it just continues to grow as the days go by. He's excellent conversation, and is more than willing to play devil's advocate even when Derek is less than thrilled about the discussions. He keeps Derek anchored, and from straying off the path his mother would've wanted him to stay on.
He's also ridiculous. Raising an eyebrow as he comes into the room on silent feet, he watches as a bit of ink drips down onto the smooth skin of his cheek before he-- just as quietly-- closes the door behind him and comes over. He reaches out, swiping his thumb across his cheek to wipe the ink away. ]
The fire swept away much of their family. Cora has been missing for months now, Laura taken from them, his uncle unfit to rule and considered a traitor. Now, all he has left is Scott. He's not about to lose him, too.
Even if he's feeling strained, frustrated, some form of resentment building up in him. It's not towards Scott, never towards Scott, but he watches Deaton work with him and prime him to be the king in his stead and he can't help but let it form in the burnt out space of his chest. Though he might understand why the advisor does what he does, it's not as if he was ever prepared for this himself. Laura was going to become the ruler after their mother, but now the position has fallen to him.
And he has no idea what he's doing.
But while Deaton works with Scott-- and Scott gives him apologetic looks for it, sometimes-- Stiles has stepped forward. He doesn't know how this has happened, how they went from errant arguments to Stiles actually helping him, but he's not going to turn it away. They've got a rapport going now, some form of friendship that he's not sure how to actually label, and it just continues to grow as the days go by. He's excellent conversation, and is more than willing to play devil's advocate even when Derek is less than thrilled about the discussions. He keeps Derek anchored, and from straying off the path his mother would've wanted him to stay on.
He's also ridiculous. Raising an eyebrow as he comes into the room on silent feet, he watches as a bit of ink drips down onto the smooth skin of his cheek before he-- just as quietly-- closes the door behind him and comes over. He reaches out, swiping his thumb across his cheek to wipe the ink away. ]
[ he was pretty much completely in the zone before derek showed up. the book is old as hell, but it's--druidic magic, the kind of thing that runs in the very veins of their kingdom, and something stiles is just now starting to get a grip on. he needs so much practice, so much it's not even funny, but deaton told him he was a--natural conductor. the kind of person who could lift magic from the soil and make it pulse with their heartbeat.
stiles really wishes he could make that as easy as it sounded, but you know, such is his life.
he's startled out of his thought, quill tip in his mouth, when suddenly, a hand reaches out and touches his face. stiles jerks and drops the quill, freezing and staring at derek with those big brown eyes. ] Your highness!
[ that comes out in a squawk, and a flush tracks across his cheeks where the ink used to be--stiles scrambles to a sitting position and refuses to admit to himself that the flush wasn't just from embarrassment at the king scaring the shit out of him. ] Oh--my god, jesus christ, you have got to start wearing a bell or something.
stiles really wishes he could make that as easy as it sounded, but you know, such is his life.
he's startled out of his thought, quill tip in his mouth, when suddenly, a hand reaches out and touches his face. stiles jerks and drops the quill, freezing and staring at derek with those big brown eyes. ] Your highness!
[ that comes out in a squawk, and a flush tracks across his cheeks where the ink used to be--stiles scrambles to a sitting position and refuses to admit to himself that the flush wasn't just from embarrassment at the king scaring the shit out of him. ] Oh--my god, jesus christ, you have got to start wearing a bell or something.
[ Neither Scott nor Derek will ever pretend to understand druidic magic. That's what Deaton is for, what Stiles is training to be for. They understand the basics, simply because they've grown up with it amongst their kingdom, but they lack the ability to actually utilize it. They both carry a spark-- or so Deaton says-- but it's not quite the same. Their power is different.
Sometimes, though, he thinks he can detect it in Stiles. He comes from a lesson with Deaton, and he can smell the ozone on him. It's slow progress, but it's still progress.
Snorting as Stiles startles, he rubs thumb and forefinger together idly to remove the ink from his skin. There's something... vaguely endearing about this, about when Stiles gets so distracted with his work. He tries not to assess it, and instead raises his eyebrows at his advisor-in-training. ]
Hello, Stiles. [ Using a foot, he nudges his chair back and calmly takes a seat at the table, hardly fazed by the fact he's still got a teenager perched on it. ] You wouldn't be the first to say that.
Sometimes, though, he thinks he can detect it in Stiles. He comes from a lesson with Deaton, and he can smell the ozone on him. It's slow progress, but it's still progress.
Snorting as Stiles startles, he rubs thumb and forefinger together idly to remove the ink from his skin. There's something... vaguely endearing about this, about when Stiles gets so distracted with his work. He tries not to assess it, and instead raises his eyebrows at his advisor-in-training. ]
Hello, Stiles. [ Using a foot, he nudges his chair back and calmly takes a seat at the table, hardly fazed by the fact he's still got a teenager perched on it. ] You wouldn't be the first to say that.
Good, it's a damn smart idea. [ Stiles huffs a little and tries to regain his composure. He at least managed to call him by the proper title this time--he thinks, anyway, it can't be much worse than the time he called him a "raging asswipe" in front of about ten members of the court--and Stiles drops the book, putting it down and pausing in a moment of indecision, flicking his gaze between the chair and the table and giving up, pulling both legs up onto the mahogany surface and resting his hands on his ankles. ] It might save your human, may I remind you, court advisors an early onset heart attack.
[ Now that he's super awkward as usual, Stiles taps both hands on the book. ] Soooo, the Yukimura alliance.
[ At least he has the good grace to look a tiny bit sympathetic. ]
[ Now that he's super awkward as usual, Stiles taps both hands on the book. ] Soooo, the Yukimura alliance.
[ At least he has the good grace to look a tiny bit sympathetic. ]
You're too young to have heart attacks. [ Deaton, on the other hand.
Watching as Stiles gets comfortable, Derek reaches to loosen the collar of his shirt now that he's no longer expected to keep up appearances. There's just something about Stiles that lets him relax, for as much as he gets under his skin and drives him nuts and mortify him in front of the court on the rare occasion, and he can't help but slump down in his seat as he regards the papers and books spread across the worn mahogany.
He'd rather not deal with this.
Head rolling across his shoulder, he regards Stiles from under his brow before sighing noisily and reaching to open one of the drawers so that he can root through them. ] The Yukimura alliance. Have we heard back from their dignitary?
Watching as Stiles gets comfortable, Derek reaches to loosen the collar of his shirt now that he's no longer expected to keep up appearances. There's just something about Stiles that lets him relax, for as much as he gets under his skin and drives him nuts and mortify him in front of the court on the rare occasion, and he can't help but slump down in his seat as he regards the papers and books spread across the worn mahogany.
He'd rather not deal with this.
Head rolling across his shoulder, he regards Stiles from under his brow before sighing noisily and reaching to open one of the drawers so that he can root through them. ] The Yukimura alliance. Have we heard back from their dignitary?
Don't be such a drama queen. [ He snipes that pretty much immediately when Derek basically rolls his eyes and sighs at him, in the kind of words a servant really should not be saying to a king, but, you know, whatever. Stiles nods and pushes a package of papers towards them, topped with a letter. ]
Their King is hesitant about it. [ Because of what happened, but he doesn't really need to say that part out loud. ] The dignitary basically fed me and Dr. Deaton a lot of bullshit about how impressed they were with the kingdom but thought we didn't have a lot of ~growth potential~ [ Said so, so sarcastically, hands waving in a jazz motion ] and they need something to to solidify the entire alliance.
So a visit might be in order. [ And another sympathy wince. Sorry Derek. Visits mean dinners and hostings and politics and basically nothing that anyone wants to do, ever, but Stiles kind of has an idea....it just depends on what Scott'll do with it. ]
Their King is hesitant about it. [ Because of what happened, but he doesn't really need to say that part out loud. ] The dignitary basically fed me and Dr. Deaton a lot of bullshit about how impressed they were with the kingdom but thought we didn't have a lot of ~growth potential~ [ Said so, so sarcastically, hands waving in a jazz motion ] and they need something to to solidify the entire alliance.
So a visit might be in order. [ And another sympathy wince. Sorry Derek. Visits mean dinners and hostings and politics and basically nothing that anyone wants to do, ever, but Stiles kind of has an idea....it just depends on what Scott'll do with it. ]
That's king to you. [ Without looking up from where he's going through the drawer, he brings up one hand to knock the back of his fist into one of Stiles' knees. Once he gets what he's looking for, though, Derek shifts to sit up a little more, cracking his back in a slow stretch before he starts to set things out. This includes the package that Stiles pushes forward, and he takes the letter first to read over it.
If he's bothered by Stiles' behavior, he doesn't indicate it. ]
Don't have-- that's a crock of shit. [ A disgruntled rumble leaves him, but he sets the letter aside. ] We're in the middle of rebuilding, I don't know what the hell they're expecting.
[ But then he Stiles points out that they're likely slated for a visit, and he brings his hand up to rub at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Dinners and hostings and meetings and his already scarce nights of sleep completely disappearing. ] Might as well.
If he's bothered by Stiles' behavior, he doesn't indicate it. ]
Don't have-- that's a crock of shit. [ A disgruntled rumble leaves him, but he sets the letter aside. ] We're in the middle of rebuilding, I don't know what the hell they're expecting.
[ But then he Stiles points out that they're likely slated for a visit, and he brings his hand up to rub at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Dinners and hostings and meetings and his already scarce nights of sleep completely disappearing. ] Might as well.
Drama king, then. [ Stiles rolls his eyes at the hand and brushes his touch off, even if the weird, easy relationship between them is something he can't just pretend doesn't exist. It's kind of ridiculous, the amount of rapport he's put together with the freakin' king of all people, but--when it gets down to it, Derek's just a person, too.
Werewolf. Whatever.
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Stiles ponders over his last point, his idea. Derek is probably going to rip his throat out the minute he mentions it is. ] That is, unless...you, arrange a meeting of a different kind, if you know what I mean.
[ Wow, great start. ] He's got a daughter, yanno. Bout my age.
Werewolf. Whatever.
Sucking in a breath through his teeth, Stiles ponders over his last point, his idea. Derek is probably going to rip his throat out the minute he mentions it is. ] That is, unless...you, arrange a meeting of a different kind, if you know what I mean.
[ Wow, great start. ] He's got a daughter, yanno. Bout my age.
Edited 2014-01-16 02:01 (UTC)
[ The king should always establish connections with his people, but what he's got with Stiles is something completely different. It's not something that he would've expected from their first meeting, but all the same he's not exactly keen on letting go of it. Stiles has, thus far, kept Derek relatively sane. He's been so much help since the fire happened, that he's not as lost as he could've been.
Slowly lifting his head a little, he looks up over his hand at Stiles at the noise he makes, eyes slowly narrowing a little. For as underestimated as his intelligence is, it takes a moment for his words to click into place.
When they do, his eyes narrow further. ] About Scott's age.
Slowly lifting his head a little, he looks up over his hand at Stiles at the noise he makes, eyes slowly narrowing a little. For as underestimated as his intelligence is, it takes a moment for his words to click into place.
When they do, his eyes narrow further. ] About Scott's age.
Name's Kira Yukimura. [ Flipping through one of the packages for him, Stiles leans directly into Derek's space as he pulls out what looks like a photograph of a girl with dark hair and pretty almond eyes. If you ask Stiles, Kira is Scott's type to a T--she's smart, gorgeous, dark haired, and could probably kick his ass sideways. Since the Allison Incident ended, Stiles had been trying valiantly to help Scott move on, and Kira Yukimura might just be the answer to that.
Derek's gonna kill him. Whoops. ] She's seventeen, a princess, rich and her dad's looking for a match for her. You know it'd work perfectly.
[ He's prepared to fight for this--he can see why it would bother Derek, when he was betrothed to a girl who passed away because she couldn't take the bite. The key is Kira is--she's human. At least as far as Stiles knows. ]
Derek's gonna kill him. Whoops. ] She's seventeen, a princess, rich and her dad's looking for a match for her. You know it'd work perfectly.
[ He's prepared to fight for this--he can see why it would bother Derek, when he was betrothed to a girl who passed away because she couldn't take the bite. The key is Kira is--she's human. At least as far as Stiles knows. ]
[ Listening despite his obvious lack of enthusiasm for this entire situation-- evident on his face-- Derek doesn't move when Stiles leans into his space, hardly batting an eye at the intrusion and instead accepting the picture to look at the girl. Admittedly, she does look like she'd be Scott's type, even though he's not particularly inclined to admit that the type also included Allison Argent. While she might not ally herself with what Kate had done, might still be on the kingsguard, he just does not trust her like he had before.
He sweeps away the thoughts of ash and smoke for now, working his jaw a little. ] It would, if they actually meet and mesh.
[ Between Paige and Kate, he's been numbed to the idea of love being for him. Scott? Scott deserves love, deserves that happiness. And ever since things ended with Allison, he's been half-smiles when he thinks no one notices. So he mulls over it, an internal debate before he seems to give up, clear eyes flicking up to meet Stiles' bright amber. ] We send the invitation, but if it looks like it's not going to work in any way, shape, or form, it's called off and we think of another way to get the alliance as a Plan B.
He sweeps away the thoughts of ash and smoke for now, working his jaw a little. ] It would, if they actually meet and mesh.
[ Between Paige and Kate, he's been numbed to the idea of love being for him. Scott? Scott deserves love, deserves that happiness. And ever since things ended with Allison, he's been half-smiles when he thinks no one notices. So he mulls over it, an internal debate before he seems to give up, clear eyes flicking up to meet Stiles' bright amber. ] We send the invitation, but if it looks like it's not going to work in any way, shape, or form, it's called off and we think of another way to get the alliance as a Plan B.
[ That was not the answer he was expecting. Stiles pauses midway through his defense of his argument--he had prepared a whole defense and everything, and shuts his mouth with a click. ] Seriously?
[ It doesn't take him long to realize after that, that he's doing it for Scott. Despite his exterior appearance, the way he shuts himself off to the rest of the world, Stiles knows probably better than anyone that Derek's problem has always been that he cares too much. At least in this case, it'll be more helpful than anything else. There's a pleased smile on his face, probably startled out of him, and Stiles nods emphatically. ] Yes--yes, definitely. But, dude, I'm telling you now, this is going to work out perfectly. I would bet my meager salary on it.
[ It doesn't take him long to realize after that, that he's doing it for Scott. Despite his exterior appearance, the way he shuts himself off to the rest of the world, Stiles knows probably better than anyone that Derek's problem has always been that he cares too much. At least in this case, it'll be more helpful than anything else. There's a pleased smile on his face, probably startled out of him, and Stiles nods emphatically. ] Yes--yes, definitely. But, dude, I'm telling you now, this is going to work out perfectly. I would bet my meager salary on it.
Seriously. [ For as grudging as his agreement is, Derek is at least a little amused by the fact that he has-- once again-- caught Stiles off guard. He takes great delight in it every time it happens, especially when it either riles him up or it causes him to smile like that.
That may be a problem.
Dismissing it as Stiles reaffirms that it'll work, he lets out a quiet chuff and draws his papers close to him, shuffling through them until he can find one that hasn't been scrawled on by either of them. Thoughts and notes and errant games to distract while they're trying to pen their words to paper. As he regards it, considering what to write. What he does is teasing, in his smooth and neat scrawl: ]
One "Stiles" Stilinski has wagered his salary in a bet. Raise said salary to ensure there is more to actually place in the running.
That may be a problem.
Dismissing it as Stiles reaffirms that it'll work, he lets out a quiet chuff and draws his papers close to him, shuffling through them until he can find one that hasn't been scrawled on by either of them. Thoughts and notes and errant games to distract while they're trying to pen their words to paper. As he regards it, considering what to write. What he does is teasing, in his smooth and neat scrawl: ]
One "Stiles" Stilinski has wagered his salary in a bet. Raise said salary to ensure there is more to actually place in the running.
[ Stiles' mouth drops open--Derek is seriously the king of the backhanded compliment, not just an entire land of people--and he snaps it shut only to take the paper when he gets it pushed towards him and scratch out the quotation marks with his quill, because Stiles' real name does not exist as far as he's concerned, then shoves it back towards Derek and points at the paper. ]
Ohh no, you are signing that one, because when this goes off without a hitch and my man Scott--er, the prince, falls ~madly in love~ with Princess Yukimura, I am getting that raise. And it is going to get used to take a vacation. [ And invite you, he wants to say--but since that's not possible, that's obviously a joke. ]
Ohh no, you are signing that one, because when this goes off without a hitch and my man Scott--er, the prince, falls ~madly in love~ with Princess Yukimura, I am getting that raise. And it is going to get used to take a vacation. [ And invite you, he wants to say--but since that's not possible, that's obviously a joke. ]
[ To say that Derek isn't delighted by the gobsmacked look on Stiles' face would be an outright lie, but he keeps his reaction more muted than he actually feels. Something small and satisfied settles over him, and he leans back in his seat as he watches Stiles take the paper and his own quill to scratch out the quotations. At every opportunity, he is going to tease him about his embarrassment for his real name.
It makes the stress of everything so much easier to deal with, and he feels a little less exhausted.
A laugh does leave him, low and amused, and he reaches for his quill again. ] Right, that is absolutely how this goes down. [ But still-- ]
It makes the stress of everything so much easier to deal with, and he feels a little less exhausted.
A laugh does leave him, low and amused, and he reaches for his quill again. ] Right, that is absolutely how this goes down. [ But still-- ]
I'm glad you believe in me. [ Stiles grins at him, bright and teasing and still sincere, because Derek looked tense and angry when he first walked into the meeting and Stiles likes to consider cheering him up a part of his job.
...so maybe sometimes he takes his job a little too personally. Whatever, no one really needs to know about his stupid, ridiculously unattainable crush. Stiles has Gordon Ramsey taste on a McDonald's budget, basically.
Carefully, he takes the paper and adds, whirling the paper around with a flourish: witnessed by: stiles stilinski in his own messy handwriting. It looks ridiculous beside Derek's politician signature, but he doesn't even care. Stiles smacks his hand against the table and grins at Derek, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket, even tapping it once for emphasis, wiggling his eyebrows. ] Consider this bet made.
...so maybe sometimes he takes his job a little too personally. Whatever, no one really needs to know about his stupid, ridiculously unattainable crush. Stiles has Gordon Ramsey taste on a McDonald's budget, basically.
Carefully, he takes the paper and adds, whirling the paper around with a flourish: witnessed by: stiles stilinski in his own messy handwriting. It looks ridiculous beside Derek's politician signature, but he doesn't even care. Stiles smacks his hand against the table and grins at Derek, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket, even tapping it once for emphasis, wiggling his eyebrows. ] Consider this bet made.
I question my sanity every time I do. [ Despite the fact that his tone is dry, there's no heat to his voice, and Derek lets Stiles take the paper so that he can add his own note to it. It's one of the most informal agreements he's ever done, and honestly it helps to ease his nerves a little way. Because he has official business to do, arrangements he needs to finalize, repairs he needs to oversee.
He doesn't want to look at those papers. Barely wants to look at the Yukimura truce, barely wants to do anything. Stiles helps to ease him into it, even as he feels the ache of loss still lingering in him. He should question that, but he decides not to. He'll just enjoy this while he's still allowed to.
Chuffing low at the way Stiles tucks the paper away, he just taps the back of his hand against his knee and looks down at all the paperwork they have to go through. At least it means that their handwriting will mingle more, stark contrasts reflecting their writers and the relationship they have. ] We'll see how it goes.
He doesn't want to look at those papers. Barely wants to look at the Yukimura truce, barely wants to do anything. Stiles helps to ease him into it, even as he feels the ache of loss still lingering in him. He should question that, but he decides not to. He'll just enjoy this while he's still allowed to.
Chuffing low at the way Stiles tucks the paper away, he just taps the back of his hand against his knee and looks down at all the paperwork they have to go through. At least it means that their handwriting will mingle more, stark contrasts reflecting their writers and the relationship they have. ] We'll see how it goes.
[ Stiles felt like something was wrong.
He couldn't sleep, sprawled out across his bed in the hallway across from the king and the prince's rooms. It's quiet over here, and it feels like the room is suffocating him with every breath he takes; Stiles wants to fidget and run and jump and do basically anything but sleep because there's this feeling in his gut that something's not right. And maybe he's oversensitive--maybe Deaton's magic training is starting to actually work--but he hears a noise from across the hall and springs out of bed in half a second, stumbling across the room in his pajama pants.
It's coming from Derek's room, and when he pushes the door open, he's not dying, but Stiles' heart stutters in his throat anyway, because that...that sounds like a nightmare. Stiles would know; his nightmares about his mom plagued him for years, to the point of where he'd thrash and whimper and scream in the night trying to tell her I'm sorry the only way his subconscious knew how.
He's across the room in half a second, hurrying to grab Derek's hands, any sort of protocol or pretense forgotten as he starts talking, hurriedly. ] Derek--Derek, hey, come on, it's just a dream, it's just a dream, wake up--
He couldn't sleep, sprawled out across his bed in the hallway across from the king and the prince's rooms. It's quiet over here, and it feels like the room is suffocating him with every breath he takes; Stiles wants to fidget and run and jump and do basically anything but sleep because there's this feeling in his gut that something's not right. And maybe he's oversensitive--maybe Deaton's magic training is starting to actually work--but he hears a noise from across the hall and springs out of bed in half a second, stumbling across the room in his pajama pants.
It's coming from Derek's room, and when he pushes the door open, he's not dying, but Stiles' heart stutters in his throat anyway, because that...that sounds like a nightmare. Stiles would know; his nightmares about his mom plagued him for years, to the point of where he'd thrash and whimper and scream in the night trying to tell her I'm sorry the only way his subconscious knew how.
He's across the room in half a second, hurrying to grab Derek's hands, any sort of protocol or pretense forgotten as he starts talking, hurriedly. ] Derek--Derek, hey, come on, it's just a dream, it's just a dream, wake up--
[ 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. ]
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.
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.
Edited 2014-03-03 22:46 (UTC)
[ 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. ]
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.
[ It's a weak joke, but a joke nonetheless. ]
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. ]
[ 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. ]
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.
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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