Erica rested her back against the door with Boyd and the twins sat in two chairs settled in front of a large wooden desk. Stiles had never been inside the Marshall's office. It was spacious with a window that over looked the hangar, pictures decorated the walls, Pentecost, Raleigh, other pilots that Stiles had only seen in interviews on TV and one that his co-pilot hadn't taken his eyes off of since they walked in at a quarter passed twelve. The frame was a little crooked and held a photo of Jackson, wide grin and eyes full of life, with his arm slung around Derek's shoulder. They looked so young, thriving and wild and powerful. His stomach twisted and he leaned, gently sliding against Derek who glanced down and leaned back, brushing his forearm against Stiles'. It was one of those moments that reminded him of his partner's past, of the life when Lionheart was piloted by a couple of reckless kids instead of a beta who hardly knew what to do to himself and the echo of someone Derek used to be.
Stiles hadn't slept. His eyes were blood shot, dark circles riddled the delicate skin beneath them and he sighed softly, a small tremor running through his fingertips. It was an aftershock. A withdrawal from the confines of a steel heart and the mind of a very complicated and frustrating man. He hadn't expected this, he hadn't expected any of it. Not the rush of uncompromised force or the overwhelming swell of pride, not the burn of adrenaline or the feeling of being completely unstoppable. Definitely not the calloused hands that had bruised his hips or the slightly chapped lips that had left a blotched mark on his throat.
He swallowed dryly and pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose when Chris Argent cleared his throat.
"Rangers," he paused and looked to each of them, "First off, congratulations to Titan Omega and Lionheart. Second, this exposure in Vegas is important for a few different reasons, a couple of them being that the world's starting to cling to the idea that the Jaeger program is becoming a hazard. We need to remind the people watching us every hour of every day that you are their protectors."
Chills ran down the expanse of Stiles' arms and he saw Erica's lips spread into a grin.
Herc Hansen ran his fingers across the scruff on his chin and nodded, "You guys are their only fucking hope, make them believe it."
Stiles looked up to Derek who was staring blankly at the wall where the picture sat framed and crooked. He wondered briefly if his co-pilot had heard a damn thing that was said in that meeting.
Turbulence rocked the plane and Stiles hissed when his head hit the windshield, "Fucking... motherfucker," his voice was raspy and he blinked lazily, wincing when he moved his arm. He didn't know what exactly he had done to his neck or why his elbow was jammed, but it felt like he had slept in the back of his jeep for a week. A heavy weight pressed into his side and Stiles pawed lazily at his eyes with the back of his hands until he felt Derek nuzzle into his shoulder.
The alpha was asleep with his arm and face mashed into Stiles, squishing him uncomfortably into the window. Stiles wrinkled his nose and rolled his eyes, shrugging until Derek grumbled and lifted only slightly higher. Long fingers propped him up and maneuvered his cheek onto the soft dip in his shoulder. Derek hummed and Stiles sighed, leaned down to rest on to the top of his head and closed his eyes.
He was too exhausted to wonder what was going to happen next, to worry about what he was supposed to say or do when they got to Vegas. He was too drained to try and justify what happened after the fight, too tired to be nervous about running his fingers across the top of Derek's hand. The alpha stirred and shifted slightly, breath ghosting across the nape of Stiles' neck.
He swallowed and inhaled through his nose. Exhaled through his mouth.
It was strange to feel as comfortable as he did, to be more at ease with Derek asleep on his shoulder than he would be curled in a bed by himself, alone with his thoughts.
"Hey," Erica's voice was hardly a whisper and she caught herself on the seat when the plane shook again. She smiled sheepishly and gestured to the two of them with her index finger, "you guys are hot together."
Stiles felt his cheeks heat and he gritted his teeth, "Can we talk about this when we land?" His eyes flicked down to Derek who purred in his slumber, hand twitching beneath Stiles' fingers. The beta pulled his hand back instinctively and he heard the blonde snicker from the walkway until a flight attendant ushered her politely back to her seat.
His heart was pounding in his chest and he took in a few shallow breaths, closing his eyes and rationalizing the situation. It was Derek. It was his co-pilot. Stiles didn't have to over-analyze something that... Fuck. He squeezed his eyes shut before they eased open and he looked down passed the messy dark hair to the soft pout of his lips as the alpha exhaled easily onto his shoulder. He didn't want to be wrong. He didn't want to start feeling anything. He was here for a reason, a purpose, a dangerous, reckless, valiant reason that he couldn't compromise. Wouldn't compromise.
Derek leaned his head up and sighed softly, "Get some sleep."
The words were quiet and raspy and Stiles didn't say anything, he simply laid his cheek down on top of Hale's head and closed his eyes, tried not to think of anything, tried to distance himself from anything that had to do with Kaiju's or Jaeger's or the PPDC or Derek's mouth or- fuck. He bit down on his bottom lip.
It was a long flight and Stiles didn't sleep.
Lydia rolled a flower between her fingertips, eyes sealed shut as she sat in the misty garden on the top floor of Shatterdome. It was quiet, just how she liked it, and she listened to herself breathe. Reminded herself that no matter how bad things could get they had already been unbearable.
She inhaled a shaky breath and closed her eyes when the glass door opened and Isaac walked forward. He took slow steps, like he was inching himself across a sheet of ice and when he finally got close enough to reach out and touch her, he did. Light digits danced across the top of her head and the woman jerked when he tried to tuck a piece of her hair behind her ear.
"Lydia..." the doctor cleared his throat and let his hand fall back to settle at his side, "It's okay- I'm sorry if I-"
"Don't," she didn't mean to sound as cold as she had, to bite the words out and she shook her head, hazel eyes lifting to meet the gaze pointed down at her. He was still wearing his lab coat, messy curls pushed back away from his face and something about the way he looked at her made Lydia want to break apart at his feet.
"I can't, Isaac, you know-" she breathed, "you know I can't."
The red-head knew how defeated she sounded but that defeat was the only strength she had left.
He rested his hand safely on her shoulder, "Let me make you dinner sometime."
The woman nodded and looked back to the plant still rolling absently between her fingertips.
"Sometime."
It wasn't a promise, and Isaac knew that. It was open ended. A 'maybe', an 'if we survive this', an 'I'm doing my best here' kind of answer that left him without any certainty. But that was the life they had lived since K-Day, an uncertain one.
Dr. Lahey gave her shoulder a squeeze and walked back out the door, leaving Lydia to drop the flower and twist the ring back and forth on her left hand.
"Okay, so," Peter had his phone open and flicked across the screen multiple times as they walked out of the airport. It was late in the afternoon and Stiles yawned, pawed at his eyes with the back of his hand and wished he had forced himself to sleep or drank himself to sleep or done anything to get some sleep while they were flying. "You two," he pointed at Boyd and Erica, "are staying at the Aria and you four are," he pointed at the twins and then to Stiles and Derek, "at the Cosmopolitan."
Derek rolled his eyes when Ethan and Aiden high-fived and started rambling in German.
Erica and Boyd got into a separate car after Peter adamantly requested that they all be on time for the interview and by on time he meant at least an hour early. Stiles was thankful that he would at least get some sort of rest but even so, his stomach clenched and fluttered. Derek hadn't said anything substantial to him since they got off the plane, not that he said much anyways, but it was different after... Stiles dug his nails into his palm and bit down on the inside of his cheek. Nothing was different. Nothing could be different.
The Cosmopolitan was modern and beautiful. Its smooth polished tile floor reflected the mirrored ceiling and pillars lined top to bottom in front of the check-in desks with screens that played graphic art in the lobby. Images of hands and bodies blurred, played on repeat, mingling with flashes of insects or rain drops. It wasn't like any place that Stiles had been before and he stood, glancing from the pillars to the casino crowded with people past a small intimate bar. Black cushioned couches sat pressed together, littered between crowds of people. Sleek black table tops held art, skulls painted silver, jagged glass vases that looked sharp to the touch. Curious eyes were ripped away when Peter tugged on his arm, just in time for a flash of light to obscure his vision, "Room 5051. Go, I'll take care of this."
Derek pressed a hand firmly to Stiles' back and guided him towards the elevators, "Smile over your shoulder," it was a command and the beta scoffed and wrinkled his nose, opening his mouth to say something until he heard the commotion gathering behind them. "Lionheart!" An unfamiliar voice. Stiles turned, his glasses dropping to the tip of his nose and smiled, shy and delicate. Derek did the same, lips spread upwards as another flash caused Stiles to blink and turn away.
Peter had his arms out in the lobby and was speaking loudly, ushering the crowd of reporters towards him and away from the rangers that stepped hurriedly into the elevator. Stiles felt his heart slam against his rib cage as the doors closed. It took a moment for it to register, for Stiles to realize, as a sliver of the lobby was obscured by mirrored elevator doors, where he was. "D-derek, Derek I-" his chest was heaving, knees buckling and he tried his best to breathe, tried not to close his eyes. It was too small. There wasn't enough room. There was nowhere to run. It hadn't occurred to him that they were going to have to get on an elevator but there was no other option.
His eyes stung when they squeezed shut and he whined, weight falling against the wall until strong hands reached out to steady him, "Stiles," Derek's voice was firm, "Open your eyes. Look at me."
If he opened them Derek would see that he was about to cry and that was the last thing he needed, for his pride to be stabbed, for him to have to be coddled because of a fucking elevator. "I don't like this," Stiles shook his head and tried to swallow but the air got caught in his throat. Warm hands rested on either side of his face and he felt Derek's breath flow over his nose, across his mouth.
"Thirty seconds," Derek stroked his thumbs across his cheeks and Stiles nodded, "Just breathe."
He inhaled through his nose. Exhaled through his mouth. The breath was shaky and he clenched his jaw, curling and uncurling his fists at his sides, "I can't, Der, get me out, please-"
The bell rang, the doors opened and Stiles almost ran into a couple girls wearing short party dresses who stumbled in their heels. Derek mumbled an apology and Stiles heard them gasp in astonishment, repeat his name and yell 'wait' before the doors slid closed in front of them. Stiles was trying to catch his breath, wrap his mind back around the present and pull himself out of the anxiety that was crashing into him like waves, again and again.
"Are you okay?" Derek blinked through a frown, sincere concern shadowing his face when Stiles finally looked up and nodded. A deep blush crawled over the bridge of his nose and highlighted his cheeks, "I-I'm sorry, I know I'm a-" he tried to feign a laugh, "kind of a little bitch when it comes to-"
"Shut up," Derek jerked his head back and nudged his arm with his shoulder when he walked by, "Everyone's scared of something. That doesn't make you a 'little bitch.'"
Stiles snorted when Derek raised his hands into air quotes and followed him down the hall, still a little unsteady and still extremely embarrassed. "I like how picky and choosy you are about when you decide not to be an asshole," Stiles hissed, obviously still shaken, and watched Derek turn the corner down another hall and stop at their room, "You're right. I'm not scared of anything," the alpha threw a sarcastic smile to him before he pushed the door open and walked inside.
He followed, cracking his knuckles to try and stop them from shaking. That was a lie and Derek knew that Stiles knew that. The alpha was scared of fire. Ever since the accident at their home when he was young, the ranger hadn't been able to get very close to an open flame. He could stand fireplaces but bonfires made him uneasy and getting close to one was completely out of the question. Derek could relate to him, he had felt the same once, like he had no escape, trapped, confined like a caged animal.
The room was spacious, it had a full bathroom with two sinks to the left, accompanied by a stone walk in shower and deep set Japanese style bath inside. The patio was small but Stiles could hear the crashing of the Bellagio fountains dancing below. He had never stayed somewhere so nice, not once in his life, "Holy shit..." the words were mumbled as he glanced around and felt Derek brush past him to answer the door when their belongings were dropped off.
Stiles flopped down on one of the beds, sighing when the cold comforter pushed up around him. He curled himself around one of the pillows and pulled his glasses off to set them on the night stand. "Wake me up when I need to get ready," he closed his eyes, thought of nothing, not of Shatterdome, or Danny, or his father or his co-pilot and Derek didn't even have a chance to respond; he was asleep within a few breaths.
"Stiles," Derek's voice was pointed and he kicked the bed when he walked by, a towel wrapped around his waist, "Stiles, get up." He walked over and pressed his foot against Stiles' leg, shaking him until he heard the ranger hiss and yawn, "I'm up, Jesus, what time-"
Stiles froze when he opened his eyes. He blinked a few times before he reached over and propped his glasses back on. "... is it?" He swallowed and bit down on his lip when green eyes flashed over a bare shoulder, "It's six, we have to be there in an hour and a half so get up." Beads of water slid down his spine, across the skin stretched tight over his hips and Stiles had to remind himself that he was staring before he ripped his eyes away and tried to force himself to nod.
Stiles swung his legs over the side of the bed and yawned, stretching idly as he peeked up at Derek before something caught his eye and he stood. His eyes narrowed and he took a step closer to the alpha, a smirk playing across his face, "Hey, what- oh my god, did you shave?"
The ranger's usually rough cheeks were clear and soft and his jaw seemed more angled and prominent. He looked younger. Much younger.
"Yes, Stiles, I shaved," he huffed as long fingers moved to wrap around his jaw, pulling his face when Stiles continued to laugh, "You look like a baby," Stiles stuck his tongue between his teeth and watched Derek roll his eyes and bat his hand away.
"I don't look like a baby," the alpha snapped, rifling through the closet until he was pulling at the zipper of a black bag.
Stiles wanted to reach out and run his hand across the smooth skin, let the pad of his thumb brush over his bottom lip, but he didn't. He kept his hands at his side and shook his head, "You look like a baby," he repeated before turning to walk towards the bathroom. He heard Derek grumble something inaudible as he closed the door and tried not to think about anything except the interview.
He went over it in his head, tried to master his facial expressions, think of ways to explain how it all felt. What were some words, phrases he could use, things he could say? Describing anything that had to do with fighting a Kaiju was... completely out of the question. He could lie, act confident, tell the world that it was easy, that he was highly trained and feared nothing, but he knew in the back of his mind that if he tried to say something like that it would probably throw him into a panic attack on live television.
The water was hot and nearly scolded his back as he hung his head and tapped his finger below the shower head. Being a ranger wasn't something he was comfortable talking about. He didn't want someone prying into what he felt in the drift, what it was like to look into the eyes of a creature and destroy it, how death defying it felt to be inside of Lionheart. Those were intimate details of his life that he only shared with one other person.
His chest clenched and he chewed on his bottom lip, moving to turn off the water and step out, wrapping a towel around his waist and grabbing another to ruffle through his hair.
He brushed his teeth and stared at himself in the mirror, poked at a freckle next to his nose and sighed, "You'll be fine," he mumbled, staring at his reflection before he looked down to his hands, "You're always fine."
Stiles poked his head out of the bathroom and around the corner, glancing through the room for Derek. The air conditioner hummed and the bed was still turned down from where he had been sleeping, a water bottle sat open on the counter top but there was no sign of his co-pilot.
It gave him time to get dressed on his own, to think, to go over questions in his head. He had never been in a situation like he was about to be in, had never been obligated to make a good impression.
He was fixing the knob of his tie when he heard the door open and Derek walked through. The alpha paused, eyes trailing over his co-pilot. Stiles looked away, tried to ignore the fact that Derek wasn't being shy about the way he was looking at him. He cleared his throat and honey eyes lifted to look across to him, "You feeling any better?" Derek's voice was low as he reached across the grab a water bottle off the counter.
Stiles nodded, "Yeah, I needed the sleep."
"We can skip the club tonight if you-"
"No, no," Stiles narrowed his eyes and shook his head, pulling the black jacket on and buttoning it, "We'll go. It's kind of important that we're there isn't it?"
Derek shrugged, "There won't be any press up there, just a bunch of kids and people who paid extra to get in. It's mostly publicity for the club, bragging rights."
Stiles nodded and arched a brow, "You gonna hit the dance floor, big guy?"
Green eyes rolled and he tried not to laugh when he took a drink off the water bottle.
"We should get going," Derek was hesitant and he swayed back and forth on his feet. His hair was perfectly messy like it always was, body constricted in an expensive suit. He looked like he belonged there, in that overly-extravagant hotel, going to an interview on live TV. Stiles walked into the bathroom and blinked when he looked at himself and realized he might just belong there too.
The suit didn't do anything for his gangly appearance, all long arms and long legs and a stretched firm mid-section. The beta had never seen himself look so much older, like he was someone important, like he mattered to more than just Danny or his father.
He played with the hem of his shirt before he slid his glasses on and nodded, "Yeah, we should."
When they walked down the hall Stiles could feel the panic start to rise into his throat. It wasn't quick this time; someone wasn't pushing or pulling him away from a situation. He had to walk into that elevator on his own knowing the doors would shut behind them. Derek glanced at him when he jabbed at the button with his index finger, he didn't ask if he was okay, didn't ask if he would be okay. He just waited silently as Stiles tried to calm himself down from the inside out.
The doors opened and Stiles felt a warm hand press against his lower back. He inhaled sharply and immediately grounded himself, not moving an inch when the alpha tried to push him forward. Stiles whimpered, "Der, I can't-"
He didn't have time to finish the sentence because Derek was hauling him inside and holding him still when he pressed the button for the doors to shut. It wasn't a very efficient way of dealing with the problem. Stiles felt his heart drop and sputter, kicking frantically against his rib cage. It felt like the walls were breathing, concaving back and forth towards him and he shuffled closer to his co-pilot who pulled at his arms, at his waist, finally at his chin as he lifted Stiles' face and growled for the young man to look at him.
Stiles blinked and trembled, reached out to grip onto Derek's forearms, "I'm gonna freak out, Derek, seriously-"
The bell rang, the doors opened and flashes of light obscured their vision.
Derek's voice was strong, deliberate against his ear, "Smile, say nothing, look for Peter."
He had to snap out of it. He had to open his eyes and ignore the vibrations running through him. He straightened his back, pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and walked forward.
His co-pilot was brilliant. Derek flashed his teeth, grinned and smiled and flicked his eyebrows when reporters shouted questions. He looked completely at ease, comfortable and... flirtatious? Stiles wanted to laugh at how utterly bashful some of the women were around him as they followed them out towards the lobby. A few people shouted Stiles' name, tried to shove their microphones towards his face. He didn't wince; he just glanced at them through the shadow of a shy smile and tried his best to look confident.
"Titan Omega!" A woman shouted, pointing towards the left where the twins walked in synchronism, hands raised, waving towards the reporters.
"Thank god," Derek huffed, nudging Stiles with his shoulder as they turned and saw Peter standing next to the doors. Hotel security was with him and walked out to greet Stiles and Derek as they stepped forward. Ethan and Aiden weren't far behind and as they approached a few more questions were shouted.
"Hale, what's it like to be back on the field without Whittemore by your side?"
Derek's expression faded, his eyes fell to the ground and Stiles sucked in a breath of air. He couldn't help but shoot a poisonous glare over his shoulder towards the woman holding out the microphone, but the beta was smart enough not to say anything. He simply gripped his co-pilot's shoulder and slid into the car after him.
That was something he should have prepared himself for. Something he should have thought about more. The fact that there was absolutely no way they were going to get through this interview without Jackson being brought up and Stiles didn't know exactly how Derek would react to something like that. He knew how the man felt, he had felt it himself. It was so much more than just the death of a close friend. Stiles swallowed and looked to his co-pilot who stared out the window.
"Hey," Stiles wanted to reach over and grab his hand but he refrained, "Derek," he pressed with his voice and finally the alpha looked over, staring into his lap. "Are you okay?" the words were soft, hidden from Peter who jabbered at the twins.
Derek didn't say anything, he just looked back out the window.
"Lionheart," Peter gestured between the two of them, "You guys will be the second interview, right after Titan Omega. The Striker Team goes on last."
Stiles nodded and Derek continued to stare out the window. Peter's aquamarine eyes narrowed dangerously and he kicked at the alpha's shin, "Derek," the alpha shot a dangerous glare towards his uncle, "get yourself together."
He watched his co-pilot stiffen, watched his shoulders hoist up and his back straighten, but he simply held his breath and gave a short nod before looking back out the window. Stiles didn't know how to react, what to say, who to look at, so he took out his phone and busied himself with texting Danny and Allison.
The studio wasn't far and the closer they got the more anxious Stiles became. He breathed as evenly as he could, played with his fingertips and rubbed his slick palms against his pants. He didn't know what to expect, didn't know what questions would be asked and that was normal. Even if the station were to brief them that didn't mean much, it was live, if they wanted to throw out invasive questions then they would and the team would have to swallow their pride and deal with it.
Stiles knew how impossible that was for Derek.
The group had met Erica and Boyd in the green room after they had been touched up, concealed and hair sprayed. The makeup artist flirted with Stiles, placed a finger under his chin and smirked at him when he blushed and turned away. It felt like everything was moving so quickly around him that the ranger didn't have time to put anything together. He was pushed from one room to another, offered coffee here, water there, told to sit here, stand there, smile for the camera. It was alien. More alien than being inside of a Jaeger.
"You doing okay?" Derek's voice pulled him back to reality as a stubborn hair dresser tried to fix Stiles' tie. Scattered eyes made their way to Derek's and the young ranger swallowed dryly before his co-pilot was batting at the woman and stepping in front of him.
Stiles' breath hitched when calloused fingertips stroked up his tie and gripped, tightening it with a swift tug.
"No, I don't know- yes. Probably not. Yeah, I'm fine," Stiles stuttered as he rolled his eyes at himself and tried to hide behind a sarcastic smile even though he knew Hale saw right through it.
They could hear laughter from the audience, the high-pitched cackle from the hostess and the deep throaty chuckles from the German twins currently answering questions. They were good, Stiles could admit that. Aiden and Ethan held their ground, cracked jokes and flirted with the crowd just like they were supposed to. They were aggressive and attractive and full of brute strength, the perfect candidates.
Peter's hand clamped down on Stiles' shoulder as he popped up next to him, "You know what to say and what not to say. Be vague, be playful, be charming," blue eyes blinked to Stiles whose eyebrow was quirked up and he shook his head before answering, "Since I'm just so charming to begin with." He didn't want to be sarcastic but at that point it was all he had left to hang on to. Nerves were humming like a swarm of locusts in his stomach, his knees rattled and he smoothed his fingers against each other over and over to conceal the way they shook.
He didn't know what to expect. He didn't know what to say. For all he knew, Stiles would walk out on to the stage and not say a word. He would just lose his voice completely.
"Thank you so much for your time, team Titan Omega everyone!"
Stiles could hear Dorothy Hamilton closing out the interview and felt a tight burn start to spill up into his throat.
Derek fidgeted next to him and they listened to the audience clap as Aiden and Ethan said their goodbyes.
"Stay tuned, next we have the resurrection of the mighty Lionheart!"
The music faded, the audience quieted and Stiles heard his name being called by an unfamiliar voice. A woman walked over and powdered his face again which made his nose crinkle and his eyelashes flutter. One of the crew members pulled the headset down off his ear and gestured to the two of them to walk out onto the set.
Stiles followed Derek's lead even though he could hardly convince himself to take a step forward.
Dorothy Hamilton was a plump blonde woman with obscene red lips that made her teeth look yellow. Her mascara was clumped together and her eyebrows were far too thin. Stiles tried to force a smile when she stood up and waddled towards them with her hand extended, "Gentlemen, thank you for being on the show." As genuine as Stiles hoped she'd be, he could tell immediately that she wasn't quite the supporter when it came to the PPDC.
They sat down and Stiles fiddled with his glasses until he noticed Derek watching him, nodding carefully until the beta placed his hands back down at his sides. The chairs were stiff, the set was far too cold and he couldn't breathe. It felt like the oxygen had been vacuumed out, like his breath was caught somewhere between his lungs and his mouth. He squirmed, smoothed long fingertips over his thighs and tried to find a steady place to keep his thoughts.
He inhaled slowly through his nose and held it until he felt Derek's elbow hit his shoulder and he exhaled, straightening his back when Dorothy took a seat behind the large wooden desk a foot or so away. The set was minimal, two chairs, a desk with a vase containing one fake rose and a window overlooking the Vegas strip.
The director called for quiet on the set and the man behind the camera held his fingers up.
Three fingers.
Stiles closed his eyes.
Two fingers.
Derek whispered to relax.
One finger.
Amber eyes flicked open and the audience clapped when Dorothy flashed a well-practiced smile.
"Welcome back! Here with us now- the newly formed Team Lionheart!" Her voice was high and it made Stiles want to roll his eyes or flinch or laugh but he simply smiled down at his hands which were folded in his lap.
"The handsome and fearless, Derek Hale!" She gestured with an open palm to the alpha ranger who beamed back at her. Stiles was taken a-back by the grin, the fold of his dimples and the sheer ridiculous nature of the expression he wore. Hale was a completely different person on stage. A whole new kind of force when cameras were pointed at him and in some sickening way it made Stiles uncomfortable.
Women whistled from the audience, a few men hollered. Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek.
"And his dashing co-pilot," her voice was sultry and she purred over the word 'dashing' which made Stiles' stomach turn, "Stiles Stillinski!"
He wasn't expecting it. He wasn't expecting the roar from the crowd, the over-whelming sound of hands beating against each other in applause. He gripped his palms together and pointed his eyes towards them, did exactly what Peter wanted him to do, lifted a brow and twisted his lips into a defiant smile.
Stiles glanced at Derek who eyed him smugly before they both turned towards their host and waited, laughing, fake and throaty when she gestured between the two of them, "What a sexy duo, don't you think?"
The audience shouted again and Stiles felt heat begin to creep over the tops of his cheeks.
"The world was in awe when you took down that Kaiju with Titan Omega, how did it feel to be back out on the field, Derek?"
The room was quiet and Stiles could almost hear his co-pilot's heart rate accelerate.
Derek's fingers clenched, his jaw tightened but he flicked his pretty eyelashes, gave a curt smile and shrugged, "It was wonderful," youth invaded his voice, "I was only doing what I felt had to be done."
Dorothy nodded, eyes narrowing in mock commiseration, "And you," she jabbed her stare at Stiles, "right out of college, not even twenty-four with no military experience and a vague resume. How did it feel for you, Stiles?"
Her sarcasm made his blood boil and as many times as he had battered himself over his own lack of presence when it came to being a pilot, hearing her call him out on it was infuriating. He scoffed, eyes rolling in their sockets before he unclenched his hands from where they were laced and lifted his palms in mock surrender, "Trying to explain how it felt would take all night."
It was hard not to explode, not to crack and bite back but he knew the rules, he knew the game and he was willing to play.
"Well, you can tell us how he felt can't you, Derek?" She tapped her nails against the desk and tilted her head to the side, "Speaking of the drift how was that," her voice lowered, teetering on the edge of rough sympathy, "to share your world with someone other than Jackson Whittemore?"
Everything was still and Stiles wanted to rip the horrible extensions out of her hair, wanted to feed her to the Kaiju ticks Newt had in the back freezers of his lab. She was a cat out to chase mice, out to make a good story, to instill a sense of fear in the public and to humiliate the men and women who fought to keep her show on the air. Fought to keep her freedom intact. His teeth sank into his lip and Stiles sucked in a sharp breathe when he looked over and saw the hard line of Derek's jaw.
It was both impressive and haunting how undeniably good the man was at hiding his feelings because Stiles knew he was frothing with anger, yet none of it leaked. Not a single drop.
"The drift is a difficult and unique experience for everyone but Stiles and I are compatible and we work well together."
Short, sweet, and right on the fence dividing off-topic and inappropriate. Exactly what Peter had pitched to them.
"Ah," the woman grinned, "I'm so glad to hear that the death of your partner was so easily bypassed-"
"Jackson Whittemore gave his life defending your human existence," Stiles snapped, encouraging a gasp from a few of the audience members, "if you think that his death has been bypassed then perhaps you should re-watch the video of our excruciatingly quick fight with the category four Kaiju that took place hardly a day ago. The fact that we still climb into Jaeger's and fight aliens is proof enough that his death wasn't in vain."
It's quiet and Stiles could hear his own heartbeat. It was blown open wide like a speaker at a shitty rock concert, hollowing out his thoughts and causing his blood to rush. He pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, fingertips moving to tap on the arm rest of the chair, "But if you'd like to talk about the drift I can assure you that Derek was pretty confused at first-"
He's got this. Stiles can do this. Amber eyes looked to the alpha who was trying his best to conceal the anger inside him. Whether it was pointed at him or Miss. Hamilton was unknown, but the beta reached out and poked playfully on the top of his hand, "I mean I speak a ton of different languages so trying to understand my thoughts, sift through my memories- It didn't come naturally, I'll tell you that much."
Stiles lifted his brows. Winked. A woman in a blue dress called his name from the audience and Derek smiled. It wasn't a real smile but it was better than the acidity he wore so feverishly on his face only moments before.
Dorothy's lips were pursed but she flashed another toothy smile, "Ah, yes! The young world language major from Brown, how cute," she sat back with her arms folded across her chest, "seems to me the Pan Pacific Defense Corporation has much more in store for you than just playing with robots?" She hummed.
"Jaegers," Derek corrected, "and yes, Stiles is brilliant."
Stiles blushed and looked at his feet. He hated being complimented in general. Being complimented on live television was a whole new level.
"Besides his ruthless cunning and wiry fighting style, Stiles possesses a much more intricate skill set that could lead us to a deeper intelligence when it comes to the Kaiju. He's much more than just his degree."
The alpha's voice was firm even though he smiled as he spoke and the audience clapped in response. Stiles' eyelashes fluttered. It felt like someone had stuck a knife right between his ribs and he bit down on his cheek. He wanted Derek's words to be sincere but it was just an interview. A debut. A statement to the public. It wasn't what he actually thought. What he believed. Amber eyes moved to stare at him, a flash of complete disarray shielding his expression until he gripped his hands together and nodded.
He had to stick to the plan, to the words he was taught not the words he wanted to say. He had already slipped once.
"You speak so highly of someone you've only known, what? Three months?" Dorothy shook her head, "But I can only imagine the bond that you two share. On to another topic, the breach," she paused, "how does the PPDC plan on closing it again and for good?"
Derek shook his head and Stiles stayed quiet. They didn't know. No one knew. It was something that haunted the both of them day in and day out but there was nothing they could do except continue to fight. Continue to defend. To have courage.
The lights were blinding and Stiles ignored the twisting and curling going on in his stomach. He pinched himself idly on the wrist, curled his toes painfully back and forth in his shoes. The anxiety was suffocating but he didn't have the time for it. Didn't have the room for it.
"Honestly, we're doing everything we can. Our men and women work daily to try and find a way to collapse the breach but first we need to properly know what we're dealing with, something that we neglected the first time around and for good reason-"
"No one really knew," Stiles finished his sentence, "What to do. Now we have more resources and readily available tools to help us close the breach a final time. Until then you have us and," the young ranger paused and looked towards the audience with his eyebrows raised, huffing out a breath, "I hope it's enough."
It was the youth that sold it. The charisma, the sensual way that Stiles spoke. It didn't give them answers but it gave them hope and for now that was all they needed. Just enough time to steer their viewers back to understanding how necessary the Jaeger program was. He didn't realize it, had never noticed how charming he had the potential to be. When it came to anything else in his life, anything real, not some interview with a pretentious overly-fed woman, he crumbled. He stammered, tripped over his words and honestly, Stiles had no idea how he had crawled his way through the interview as well as he did.
Dorothy smiled. The director held up a finger.
"Well, boys, our time is up! We thank you deeply for your time here and wish you all the best on the field! Give a round of applause to Derek Hale and Stiles Stillinski, Team Lionheart!"
The audience squawked again, clapped and stomped and yelled.
As soon as the red light on the camera died Derek was up and out of his seat, pacing quickly away and off stage. Stiles said nothing to the hostess when she tried to approach, he was far more concerned with his co-pilot and tried to tame the nervous clawing in his stomach as he walked after him.
Stiles had never thought he would have been able to act so calmly, to be so... iconic.
It was foreign and misleading and as much as he wanted to hate it he didn't.
It felt good.
"What the fuck were you thinking?" Derek's words echoed in the bathroom when Stiles opened the door. He gripped the edge of the sink and turned to look at his reflection, heaving in breath after breath. He looked like a nervous wreck, body was shaking, teeth were grinding together and Stiles had never seen him like this. He had never seen his co-pilot start to break.
Stiles wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand, grip his shoulder, wrap his arms around him, he didn't know what he wanted but he wanted to do something. Anything to calm him down. Derek was always so put together; he was always so... ready.
"Der, it... I'm- I did the right thing, I mean, I-I've never done this before, I don't-"
"I don't want to talk about this. I don't want..." Derek's voice trailed away to rest somewhere in between the words he wanted to say and the words he knew were safe to say, "I don't want to talk about Jackson. I see enough of him in drift, I-"
"Derek," Stiles said his name too quietly, walked too briskly, placed his hand on the alpha's hip too firmly. His co-pilot jerked away, eyes set on the ground, "Don't," the ranger growled, "Stiles, just-" he sounded like he was drowning, "I'm not doing this right now."
Derek's shoulders rolled when he turned his back and walked away. His footsteps reminded him of his first break up in high school, his eyes had looked so serious, so hidden and Stiles despised it. He kicked himself, bundled himself around the anxiety throbbing inside him and wished he could be back and take back everything that happened.
Everything that made this hurt worse than it needed to.
"You have to talk to me about it sometime, Derek," Stiles called, causing the man to stop dead in his tracks with his hand resting on the door. Green eyes looked calmly over his shoulder but Derek said nothing, he just walked out and left Stiles to wonder what had just happened.
To wonder if he even knew which topic he was talking about, whether it was the trauma from Derek's past or the intimate details of what had been brewing between them.
Erica was wearing a red dress covered in sequin. It was strapless and hugged the curves that dipped below her ribcage and fanned out over her hips. Long legs reached towards the ground where her small dainty feet were shoved into shiny black stilettos. Bouncy curls were bigger than normal, eyes rimmed in black, dark and smoky. Her lips curved into a grin when Stiles walked towards her, but it faded as soon as she registered the expression riddled across his face.
"What's wrong?" She didn't bother with anything else and tilted her head to the side, hand resting on his arm. Stiles shook his head and nudged his shoulder behind him where Derek was slowly making his way towards the group.
The twins were chatting with Peter, Boyd was on the phone and a few reporters strained against the wall of security that stood in front of the doors. They were waiting for the car and Stiles wanted nothing more than to curl up in his bed back at Brown and leave the entire life he had built behind.
"I shouldn't have said anything, Erica, I should have kept my mouth shut and let Derek deal with it-"
"Oh, are you fucking kidding me?" Erica raised her brows and jerked her head back to shoot a glare towards Derek as he walked over to stand next to Boyd a few feet away. Her heels clicked against the tile as she hauled Stiles towards the double doors leading out of the lobby, hissing and cursing, "Derek can't deal with his own fucking problems, what you did out there was perfect. You were perfect. Don't let his attitude problem make you feel like you didn't deserve-" she huffed, teeth grinding together, "You defended him on live television; did he say something to you?"
Stiles was silent. The last thing he wanted was to create a rift between his friends and he shook his head, hands settling on Erica's arms, "It's fine, he's pissed, it's not a big deal. Leave it alone," he stared at her long and hard from over the rim of his glasses, "He'll get over it. He's being emotional, just... please, Erica."
She rolled her eyes and nodded, "I won't say anything, but-"
"Alright, car's here," Peter waved an arm towards the doors and Stiles sighed as he walked forward, "No, 'buts'-" Stiles mumbled over his shoulder to the woman as they walked through the doors to the onslaught of flashing cameras and shouting voices.
"Derek Hale how do you feel about your co-pilot's cowardly stab on live TV?"
A woman strained over the shoulder of a bulky security personnel and the alpha stopped, turning before he fixed the knot if his tie, "Stiles is anything but a coward."
Peter pushed his back into the limousine and Derek ducked, waiting for Stiles to climb in behind him. They watched each other carefully, Derek trying to apologize with his eyes while Stiles tried to disconnect himself from the situation entirely. He knew Derek. He knew Derek better than anyone else ever would.
Yet as he looked at him while the twins clambered into the seats next to them Stiles couldn't help but feel like he really didn't know Derek like he wanted to. It was like Stiles had read him in a different language, analyzed him, memorized him, but hadn't really absorbed him.
Honey eyes fell to his lap where he fumbled to play with the beds of his nails and warmth wound through the divots of his spine when Derek's foot bumped against his own.
It wasn't an easy fix. There were no words exchanged, no apology or asking of forgiveness from either of them. It seemed easier that way, to ignore the situation and push it out of reach until both of them were calm enough to really address it. It wasn't the place or time to talk about their life or Derek's past, not in a car full of their friends who had already popped open a bottle of champagne and were falling over themselves.
Derek laughed and Stiles visibly watched the tension instilled in him by the interview begin to drain. His eyes started to soften, jaw wasn't pinched tight and his hands flexed over the black pants covering his knees.
Everything about this debut seemed rushed, from the flight to the interview, back to the very tangible threads stretched tight between Stiles and Derek, and now to this. A club. He hadn't been inside of a night club since his second year in college and as exciting as it was, the beta was more nervous than he was anything else.
They were dropped off in front of the Wynn and Peter ushered them out, passing them off to security who escorted them up the escalators to the red ropes that led directly inside XS.
A man dressed in a white suit greeted them before he opened the door, "Ah, rangers, welcome to XS, the number one nightclub on the Las Vegas Strip. It's an open bar for each of you tonight compliments of the Wynn, enjoy yourselves."
The twins bounded through the door, shoving and pushing each other as they went. Erica looped her arm through Stiles' and winked at Boyd who rolled his eyes and turned to say something to Derek that Stiles couldn't hear, something he really wasn't concerned with at the moment.
His eyes darted around the dark expanse. Bodies shifted together on the packed dance floor, lasers and lights erupted from the stage where a DJ pressed buttons on a keyboard and kept the bass vibrating through the room. Large purple couches were crowded around tables shrouded in shadows along the back end of the club. There were two bars, one on the left and one outside on the patio. "Jesus," Stiles laughed against the side of Erica's head when she put her hands flat on the top of the bar, "this place is huge."
"Jaeger bombs," Erica held up two fingers to the bar tender who nodded and smiled. She gestured with her hand to the end of the bar where Ethan and Aiden were already signing autographs and hoisting women onto their laps. A handsome young man pressed his lips against Ethan's cheek, a woman stroked her hand down his tie, Aiden busied his hands around the back of a pretty little things thighs, thumbing the pale skin at the hem of her dress. "Look at that, already getting started," Erica laughed through the words and Stiles nodded.
He arched a brow when the shot was handed to him and swallowed dryly. Drinking in his apartment? Fine. Drinking at a small local bar? Not a big deal. Doing shots at a nightclub in Las Vegas after debuting? Nerve racking.
Erica clanked her glass against his and tipped it against her lips. The liquid burned when it hit his tongue and he winced when it poured down his throat, exhaling a raspy sigh before he set it back down on the bar.
"Double fireball," the blonde slid her glass towards the bartender and held up two fingers again.
Stiles shook his head vigorously, "No, no, Erica, I'm fine. I don't need a double fucking anything- I should, uh, I should take it slow."
The woman rolled her eyes and handed him the large shot glass once it was set down in front of them, "You're going to drink this and then you're going to dance with me."
"Uh, Erica, I- uhm, maybe the whole gay thing didn't quite make sense the first time-"
"Shut up! Like you've never grinded with your straight friends before, drink that and dance with me," Erica coughed after shooting the cinnamon liquor to the back of her throat and squeezed her eyes shut. She glanced over to Boyd who was standing with Peter and Derek on the other end of the bar. Stiles almost gagged on the shot and stuck his tongue between his teeth when his eyes started to water. He knew that drinking with Erica probably wasn't the smartest idea, but Scott wasn't there and neither was Allison and he couldn't say no to her.
Besides, dancing was fun and Erica wasn't shy. Not one bit.
She pulled on his tie, laughed against his ear and rolled her hips against his to the loud beat of some electronic song Stiles had never heard before. His mind was starting to blur, eyes clouding behind the alcohol now buzzing in his veins. His fingertips curled around her waist, pulled the strong female against him and barked a laugh against the side of her face when one of her hands tangled in his hair.
It felt good to let go, to have fun after such a stressful night.
Erica stepped back and fanned herself after four or so songs, pointed to the bar and Stiles nodded, taking her hand when they squirmed their way off the packed dance floor.
The strobe lights flickered behind them and Stiles wrapped his arm around Erica's waist when she stumbled in her heels. They threw their heads back, laughing and pressing their hands against each other, petting and cooing until Stiles looked towards the bar.
He stopped. Feet planted hard against the tile. It was so abrupt that the blonde hanging on him almost fell and caught herself through a slurred curse. "Stiles, what the- oh... oh, shit," she swallowed when she found the image that had Stiles so transfixed on the bar.
Derek sat on one of the stools, a glass in his hand, with a handsome young man dragging a fingertip across his shoulder. The alpha's lips were spread into an amused smile, his free hand shoved in his pocket while he took a sip from the drink he held with the other. The stranger pressed against his side wasn't subtle and Stiles saw Derek shift his leg when a stray hand brushed over the top of his knee.
He didn't know if it was the alcohol, the situation, the exhaustion or the excitement. He didn't know what it was, but something was boiling inside him, melting the marrow in his bones and driving a wedge into his spine. Stiles hadn't felt anger or jealousy like that since his senior year of high school.
Erica didn't bother to stop him when he fell into a surprisingly even stride towards them. He didn't coach himself, he wasn't fidgeting, no nerves. Just blind action.
"Hey," his voice was stiff and Derek blinked at him, a blush tinting the tops of his cheeks.
"Oh, is this the guy that fights in the robot with you?" the stranger had an annoying voice, his lips were thin and he had a smile that said he'd been demeaned far too many times in his life.
Derek nodded and opened his mouth to speak but the man beat him to it, leaning close to purr loudly against the alpha's shoulder, "So when I suck your dick tonight, he'll remember it?"
Stiles stomach clenched, his fingertips popped when they curled into fists and he glanced at the stranger before his gaze moved to Derek. The sound of the music was deafening but Stiles could see the flash of fear in his co-pilots eyes.
"You'll get to see it won't you?"
Stiles blinked when the man spoke directly to him, eyes challenging and wicked when they looked to the beta. He silenced the voice in the back of his mind that told him not to do exactly what came to mind first.
Stiles slammed his palm over the back of the man's skull, thrusting him down and bouncing his forehead off the top of the bar. His body slouched onto the ground and he cried out, clutching his nose as Stiles took a step back and gave a curt nod, "Ah, yeah- you'll remember me too, huh?"
Erica's hands were plastered over her mouth, her eyes were wide and Boyd started laughing, spilling the beer he was holding in one hand.
Ethan and Aiden were crowded around Stiles in moments, jabbering in German and asking if he needed their help.
Peter pulled out his cell phone and dialed a number, cursing and stomping over to help the poor drunk young man off the floor.
Derek's fingers curled around Stiles' forearm and tugged far too roughly on him, face blistered with anger and embarrassment, "What the fuck was that?" His words snapped against Stiles' ear and the ranger shoved at his co-pilot's chest until he writhed out of the alpha's hold.
"Are you kidding me, Der?! Are you really- seriously? You're going to ask me that?"
"Yes, Stiles! I didn't take you for," he swung his arm and gestured the man now being hoisted up, holding his bloodied face, "someone capable of-"
"Defending what's mine?"
Stiles didn't think about what he said, he just blurted the words and brushed Erica off when she tried to pull him away from the scene. The words came out naturally and felt light on his tongue, but he thought perhaps that was the alcohol because goose bumps were raising across his arms and down his back, reminding him of the power in a statement like that.
Reminding him that Derek wasn't his.
Peter was talking with security and they agreed to let the group stay, it didn't take much convincing, technically they could have rented the club out if they'd wanted to.
When Derek turned and walked away Stiles felt his knees start to shake. Ethan steadied him and Aiden swatted him on the back, "You two?" He pointed between Derek's broad shoulders which disappeared into the bathroom and Stiles' chest, eyebrows raised in a silent question.
Amber eyes closed and Stiles pushed his glasses up, biting down hard on his lip when the room started to sway, "We're nothing," the beta assured, nodding his head towards the bar, "I just want another drink."
Stiles didn't see Derek for another hour.
He had two more drinks and waved to Erica when she left to retire with Boyd for the night. He didn't want it to hurt, he didn't want it to be excruciating. It was like a bullet lodged somewhere, shallow and annoying, causing a storm to rage inside Stiles' already compromised mind. It was exactly what Derek had said, it could kill them and he was right, it was already starting to.
The club was hot and Stiles ran a hand through his hair, enjoying the press of fingertips against his torso on the dance floor. They weren't calloused or hot; they didn't push in the places that made Stiles sigh and arch. They were just there, attached to someone with a crooked smile and blue eyes who had introduced himself at the bar.
He danced with Stiles, pressed his lips against the smooth skin of the pilot's jaw and attempted to mumble sexy things in his ear. Stiles wasn't interested. He wasn't interested in any of it.
Not until steady hands gripped his hips and pulled him backwards.
Whoever the blue eyed stranger was backed up immediately when he saw who the hands belonged to, ducking behind someone to exit the dance floor.
You can hold on if you want to,
But you know I never let you go.
Ain't nobody there to talk to,
Nobody's a whole in this life.
Stiles smirked, eyes rolling when the hands gripped harder on his waist, thick thumbs smoothing over the angular bones underneath his belly button. He knew it was Derek, he could smell his cologne, could tell by the scar on his right hand above the second knuckle of his middle finger. He felt the rumble of a growl against his ear and turned, resting his back against the chest behind him.
"I get it," Derek hissed possessively, "but it goes both ways."
Stiles swayed before he twisted on his heel to face to alpha, "What does?" His voice was confident and he tilted his head to the side, reaching to play with Derek's tie when green eyes darted away to look at the stage where the DJ sat behind a wall of lights.
"I don't want anyone touching you," Derek's voice was pinched and he gritted his teeth, hands moving up to pull Stiles against him. Their waists were flush and Stiles' nose bumped against the side of Derek's face, a short breathy gasp sucked in when his co-pilot ran a hand up his spine and rested on the back of his neck.
"I'm surprised you weren't as v-violent as I was, he was getting pretty handsy-" Stiles' words were muffled by the press of Derek's mouth over his own. Their teeth clanked and long fingers wound into the back of Derek's hair when he tilted his head and devoured the kiss like it was filled with oxygen, like it was the first breath he had taken all night. It was a sloppy mess as they stumbled and rocked against each other until the two found purchase against a speaker towards the front of the crowd.
They ignored the 'oh my gods' and didn't pay mind to the shocked gasps from the other patrons in the club who witnessed their very blatant display of public affection.
Stiles gripped his tie, pulled him down and lifted his knee to brush over the alpha's hip when his back found the vibrations of the grated amplifier. They breathed against one another, bit down on each other's throats, pulled and tugged at each other's hair and Derek groaned when Stiles pressed himself between his legs and rolled his hips to the melody booming through the speakers.
Smile
Derek mouthed the word because neither of them would have been able to hear their own voice if they tried to speak and Stiles lifted an eyebrow when his partner nudged his chin towards a couple of young women with their cell phones out and pointed at them.
Stiles' hand was pressed against the side of the alpha's face and he offered a small twist of his lips which made them all blush even though they were obviously unashamed of the picture or video they had been taking of the duo.
"Hello ladies! Oh, yes, thank you! Oh, what's that, oh that's the sound of these videos being deleted-" Peter snatched each of their phones from out of their hands and pressed a few buttons before he handed them back, "Oh, that's not fair? Neither is your unimpressive attempt at a smoky eye and your cheap Macy's dress."
Their PR manager turned on his heels and gripped them both by the shoulder when Stiles leaned in to press his lips back against Derek's.
"Oh my fucking- I knew this would fucking happen! Raleigh is- oh, god- just, go to your room!"
The alpha snorted a laugh and dragged his co-pilot through the crowd, holding onto his hand as they weaved through bodies smashed against one another. They ran into the twins on their way out who hooted and hollered at them in German and gave them both a thumbs up when they stumbled into a wall with their lips mangled together.
It was convenient that their hotel was right next door to the Wynn and they took their time walking there. It was late, nearly three in the morning and Derek was just as intoxicated as Stiles was. They laughed, fell on each other down the strip and stopped a few times to push one another against anything sturdy enough to hold them up.
Derek bummed a cigarette off a teenager who asked for his autograph and told him that he looked good with Stiles. The alpha blushed and chuckled, mumbled a thank you when the young girl reached up to light his smoke for him.
"I didn't know you smoked," Stiles wrinkled his nose and tilted his head to the side as they crossed over the bridge that led into the Cosmopolitan. The alpha shrugged and exhaled a breath of smoke into the chilly Vagas air, "I don't, usually. I sometimes do when I drink."
Stiles nodded and asked for a drag, reaching two fingers out to grasp to Camel menthol but Derek smiled dumbly and grasped his hand, backing him up against the railing near the outdoor elevator before he pressed his mouth over Stiles' letting the smoke be pushed through his lips. It leaked between them, curling up against their nostrils and causing the rangers lungs to heave. The beta wondered if his co-pilot smoked to relive the day of the fire because when he inhaled the puff of chemicals and nicotine it almost felt the same as it did in Derek's memories.
They didn't bother with the straggling reporters hanging outside the elevator and when the doors opened Derek pushed Stiles so hard that his back hit the mirrored wall and he winced. The alpha stepped in and hauled him forward by the already slacked tie around his neck.
It was disgusting how much they didn't care, how many people they let see them as they clumsily padded down the hall, pausing to grab or touch or kiss each other until they finally made it into their room. Derek didn't bother with trying to get to the bed after Stiles tripped, he simply toppled to the ground with him and made work on their clothes, tugging and unzipping and throwing off whatever they could.
"I can't believe you smashed that poor kids face against the bar," Derek breathed the words through a laugh against Stiles' throat and the beta chuckled in response.
"What would you have-"
"He'd be dead," Derek interrupted smugly, capturing Stiles' lips in another long and languid kiss.
Stiles didn't think of anything, he didn't think of the problems, the reporters, the interview. He didn't think of the mess he could have potentially made at the club, of Shatterdome or Kaiju or Jaegers. At that point it wasn't an escape, wasn't anxiety or power that drove him to finally climbing into bed with Derek Hale.
"We've drank alot," the words left Stiles' mouth and ended in a breathy moan when Derek bit down on his rib cage and shimmied him out of his briefs.
"Yeah, we have," the alpha rubbed the soft skin of his cheek against the body beneath him, up over his stomach to his chest and Stiles smiled at the feeling of baby smooth flesh. He felt so delicate, so strange compared to the rough burn of stubble he had experienced before.
"You're not gonna regret this are-" Derek bit down and slid his hand along the inside of Stiles' thigh, silencing him for the time being.
It wasn't as rough as Stiles had expected. They clawed and writhed and rolled around between the stock white sheets of the hotel bed. Stiles' back arched when Derek pressed against him and Derek whined low and needy into Stiles' shoulder when he bucked his hips.
Stiles swore he had never felt fire until he touched Derek, had never seen something as beautiful as he was when he bit down on his lip and threw his head back. When he threaded his fingers through Stiles' hair and when he begged and sighed against his ear.
He had never felt anything like Derek's hands on him, like his lips and tongue pressed against the most intimate parts of him. Stiles had never been broken apart so carefully, never been opened up so tenderly.
If this was what it was all for than it was worth it. If the program, the training, the battles, the interview, if it was all for this than Stiles knew it was worth it.
The way Derek choked on his voice, the way his breath hitched and body clenched when Stiles was under him or on top of him, near him. It was worth it. He was worth it.
Stiles fell asleep that night to the sound of Derek breathing and for the first time in a long time he didn't dream of dying.