ataraxionlogs | ( CLOSED ) ❝ i see a bad moon rising ❞

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( CLOSED ) ❝ i see a bad moon rising ❞

CHARACTERS: Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski
LOCATION: Derek's room — floor nine, room 014.
WARNINGS: TBA, if any!
SUMMARY: CERTAIN DEVELOPMENTS IN THE BEACON HILLS CONTINGENT.
NOTES: And evil takes a human form in Peter Hale. Don't be fooled because he may seem like your typical crazy, niece-killing wolf-faced dickbag, but in reality, he's so much more than that.

[ stiles isn't really all that familiar with derek's wolfcave, seeing as he's spent most of his time on this stupid ship either getting himself lost, investigating a murder, or trying to avoid interacting with any people ever, but he figures there's at least 50/50 chance of catching derek in his room at any given moment—which is good, because now? this moment? is pretty freaking given.

he's out of breath when he finally does shoulder into the wall next to derek's door, slumping there for a second before turning and raising his fist to the metal, hitting the door three times in quick succession. thunkthunkthunk. ]

Derek! [ you better be in there, he swears to god— ] Open up!

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[ oh, derek's at home, because after the utter fucking debacle of a hale family reunion and the newly arrived contents of his locker, he'd hightailed it out of there. ( he doesn't think about how happy he'd been to see his uncle, he doesn't because no, no that wasn't how any of this was supposed to go.) retreating into his room to lick his wounds was not exactly stellar alpha behavior, but there was only so much derek could stand all at once before he had to physically remove himself from the situation.

obituaries. newspaper clippings. a family portrait. his old dictionary. all these things that make him want to scream and scream and scream only derek never screams, only goes tight-lipped and silent and rides out the crushing press of guilt, drowns it in anger and--

and stiles is banging on his door. this is the exact opposite of what derek wants to deal with, but he sweeps everything (evidence, it's evidence, evidence of what his stupid childhood crush had brought down on his family) into a drawer and slams it closed as if that would magically banish it into the ether before he goes to open the door and fix stiles with a withering glare. ]

I told you I'd come find you.

[ stiles just stares at him, mouth open, and gives derek the most incredulously scathing look he can manage. ]

And you seriously expected me to sit around waiting for you to show up while your crazy uncle—who, incidentally, is back from the dead—starts cooking up some master plan to get us all killed? He-hell no, I don't think so.

[ he's not yelling, not yet, but his voice is loud, rushed, and his gestures are sharp; he's nervous and annoyed and this isn't about that, about some dumb anonymous function on the network—this is a much more immediate problem, one that might literally go up in flames if they're not careful. stiles knows why peter did it, stiles knows peter thinks what he was doing was retribution, but he harmed innocents in the process—bit scott, lydia, almost bit him, almost killed scott's mom—he's insane, totally insane, and stiles does not want to suffer the consequences of letting peter go unchecked in a tin can in space for the next... however long they're all doomed for.

if derek didn't know peter was on the ship before, well, he does now. ]

Let me in. [ he's not doing this in the hallway. plus, doors? awesome inventions. ]

[ it's about peter, as derek suspected it was. he can only assume it's not about him hugging peter because stiles is here and not off hunting wolfsbane to shove into derek's gut. ( nevermind that derek has wolfsbane now, conveniently packed into a bullet that has kate argent's scent lingering on the metal ) stiles meets his gaze and snaps out a demand and it's impressive, the utter lack of self preservation. derek's tolerance is shot all to hell, doesn't kick in fast enough to clamp down on the snarl, the flash of red, but then abruptly his expression shutters.

he turns on his heel but the door stays open. it's the most invitation derek will give.

this is the last thing he wants to talk about, the last thing he wants to talk about with stiles. stiles who pushes too hard and prods at things that derek doesn't want touched, derek already thinks he might have made a mistake letting him in.

but having a plan might be for the best. might. ]

[ stiles doesn't flinch when derek's eyes go red, just for that one split-second, but the snarl that accompanies it makes him lean back a little—his mouth snapping shut, and his jaw tightening in defiance. okay, fine, derek likes the angry intimidation route. that's par for the course. but there's only so many times he can use it before stiles starts building up an immunity, decorated annoyer that he is; derek's threats do still hold some weight, after all, but—

the big bad wolf routine gets a little old, especially when stiles is pretty sure it's mostly a front to hide all of derek's other crappy personality flaws. (there is that stray part of him that is genuinely afraid of what a werewolf can do, see fig. a. peter hale for more evidence—but more often than not, that small part shuts up when stiles tells it to shut up, and only rears its ugly head when his own guard's down.) ]

I'm gonna go ahead and assume that means you already saw him. [ he calls after derek's retreating back, peevishly, and then mutters: ] Thaaat's perfect.

[ he steps through and doesn't stop moving, completely ignoring the other bed in favor of walking out that energy, vibrating in place, his hand going up to his head to scrub at his hair, already a little longer after a month's worth of forgetting to keep it buzzed. stiles makes mistakes like anyone else, even if he thinks ahead, even if he likes having solutions, answers, and plans in place. here, his only mistake might be assuming that derek isn't as gung-ho about getting rid of peter as he is. ]

Look, I know he's your family and everything, but throwing him out of the nearest airlock might be the best option we've got right now.

[ and he's pretty much completely serious about that one. ]

[ it's a problem, the lack of follow through. derek remembers very fondly those first few months, when stiles flinched every time derek bared his teeth. it'd made ordering him around so much easier. but now stiles is peeking through the cracks and it's not easy to intimidate someone when they're well on the way to figuring out all the ways that derek isn't a threat. ( that last night, standing over peter and derek had hesitated, had to take deep breathes to steel himself before he'd ripped out his uncle's throat and that had shown him for what he was; derek wasn't the big bad wolf, he was something else entirely but he'd worked so hard to play that role that he didn't know how to play anything else ) and knowing that makes stiles a threat, something that registers faintly on derek's radar as he sits down and goes statue still. stiles paces and derek turns to stone. it's probably amusing, teh illustration of polar opposites. ]

We're not airlocking him. Yet.

[ there is no plan. derek doesn't have one and that's probably obvious. he's rattled, shaken hard by that initial meeting and the pile of newspaper clippings he'd found in his locker. he balks at the idea because he doesn't know if he can do it, kill his uncle again.

but he'll pretend that isn't the reason why. ]

There are better ways.

[ he glances up, fixes derek with another look. yet. so it's on the table. awesome. he's cool with airlocking the bastard, even if he's not sure how to execute that plan yet, if push comes to shove; in fact, he hasn't really had that much time to think up a new solution to the peter problem that isn't outright death. even during the first time (and it's ridiculous there has to be a second time to this, peter should have stayed burnt), stiles had been a part of a group of people who had helped to carry that plan out together. fire, arrows, claws, teamwork. mission accomplished.

derek's an alpha now, but he's missing a pack, so stiles isn't sure how powerful he actually is, if he'd be able to take peter in a fight. and the other werewolves here, the other passengers, they're probably powerful enough to help, at least—but stiles doesn't trust any of them, which is the problem. well, a problem.

not that he trusts derek, but at least he's a familiar face in a sea of strangers who isn't a murdering psychopath. ]

Like what? Electrotherapy? Psychological warfare? Tying him to a chair and punching him in the face until he talks? Yeah, I can see that one ending well.

[ what's on the table is all relative. derek bares his teeth and snarls and blusters, but at the end of the day he pulls his punches, puts away his claws, swallows his fangs. killing is a necessity, but it's never been something derek's wanted. seeing his claws drenched in blood once had been enough. ]

None of the options we have can end well.

[ needlessly pessimistic? well, yes. derek doesn't know how to be anything else. ]

He's not an alpha. I still am. We have the upper hand.

[ he wishes he sounded more confident about that. but he'd gotten himself enough attention by throwing peter across the jump bay. whatever they did had be done carefully. derek would prefer to lie as low as he could, to not wave banners around announcing that he was here. if they moved against peter, it would have to be subtly. ]

[ yeah, the upper hand. whatever that means.

now that peter's onboard, now that there's a definite threat, stiles is a little more okay with derek throwing together his little army of wolves. they'll need all the strength they can get, and stiles... well, stiles is pretty much useless in a fight, and he knows it; protection is what he wants to give, but it's also what he needs, because he can't help out if his throat's slashed or his guts spilled out on the floor of a spaceship. he and derek aren't friends. they're allies, for now. that's... okay, for the time being, but it's no guarantee of anything. (stiles can run, he can plan, but he can't hide, not if shit gets real. and as much as he'd like to solve his own problems, he can't do shit in a pack of werewolves and who knows what else. that's just how it is.)

he nods, changes tack, drawing up possibilites. ]

Are you still gonna try and Uncle Sam a pack together?

[ do you still need him to—? ]

[ it doesn't mean much, not in this case.

but he refuses to roll over. he may not have his pack ( remus, he has remus, even if the connection is something strange and different and not quite as solid as the one he'd felt with boyd and erica and isaac ) but he's still an alpha, still has more strength. he's had a whole month to recover his strength, to pull himself back together. he can do this. he can brazen his way through this and come out with minimal damage.

he hopes. ]

Yes.

[ there's a beat of silence, derek looking at his hands and it's stiles he's talking to about this, stiles who isn't--stiles is some strange flavor of ally that derek can't quite put his full weight on because stiles could wriggle away and leave derek to crash. but there's nothing else here for him. ]

I have to. It's the only way he won't be able to...

[ and derek hesitates over rip my throat out and then just sighs. ]

The faster the better.

[ it's weird to have a conversation with derek that doesn't make stiles want to slam his own face into the nearest wall, but hey, here they are. it's a tentative thing, this alliance, but it's necessary, so stiles runs with it; he can do this, he can definitely pull this off, even if it's one of the weirdest things he'll ever voluntarily do.

he looks away, chews on the inside of his cheek, exhales in frustration. cranes his head back to look at the ceiling. ]

Nah, I get it.

[ and he does. he's an outsider looking in, always will be, but he gets it. derek's unfinished sentence doesn't need a nice neat bow tied to it, doesn't need wrapping up; stiles can imagine, crystal-clear, what'll happen if peter's allowed the upper hand.

finally, finally, he stops pacing long enough to throw himself down on the opposite bed, elbows on his knees, hands in his hair—then clasped together, rubbing together, nervous motion. ]

So write it up, the—the thing, the post, and try not to be super obvious about it, okay, we don't need everyone's gun pointed at our collective head. Let me know when you're done and I'll come over and set it up for you. I'll spell-check, or whatever. [ to do: practice anon. ] And then we can release it into the wild. Sound good?

[ it's the most cooperative stiles has ever been, and derek's thankful for it, even if he can't quite drag up the appropriate words to say so. he keeps getting shuffled from one battle to the next, from war to war to war and he'd never wanted any of it. he'd just wanted to be left alone to pick up the pieces of his life but some force within the universe had decreed that his life must always be in shambles.

the slump of his shoulders is all exhaustion, broadcasting it all too clearly and he doesn't have the energy to try to fake anything else. the posturing is tiresome. all of this is tiresome. ]

How fast can you be ready?

[ he thinks of the sound he'd made, that puppy-soft whine when peter's fingers had dug bruises into his arms and his chest clenches. it feels like betrayal, like he's betrayed laura, like he's spat on everything. the sooner he's dealt with peter, the fast he can go back to pretending that had never happened. ]

[ stiles pointedly ignores derek's slump-and-jive, only because he knows the feeling all too well, knows how it could feel (minus the dead uncle part, but hey) to be at the near-center of a large heap of bullshit almost constantly. he doesn't want to know, doesn't care enough to poke and prod at derek's dumb issues, just as derek probably doesn't give a shit about what stiles thinks or feels right now—this is business, and that's all. ]

Pretty fast.

[ years of practice. he's quick on his toes when the time calls for it. ]

Good.

[ stiles doesn't push and derek doesn't like it but he's grateful for it. the problem with derek is that there's always the lurking fear that he's being cornered, and it's worse up here, worse when he's locked in and boxed in and stripped of his pack.

maybe this is stiles finally learning not to poke at the cornered wolf. maybe. ]

Let me know when you have.

[ or else derek would simply show up in stiles' room. because how else did derek interact with people? ]

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( CLOSED ) ❝ i see a bad moon rising ❞

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