The sound of vibrations hummed against the wooden desk next to Stiles' bed and he peeled his tired eyes open to greet the day. Streaks of sunlight dripped through the cracks between his blinds and he lazily reached over, slapping his palm against his desk again and again until he reached the noisy device and tapped 'snooze' on the glass front of his phone. It was 8:01 a.m and that meant it was time to go to the gym and then spend too many hours pointing out grammatical errors in ten-page papers for his History of Languages professor. His eyes rested closed for a moment and he breathed in and out through his nose, chest rising and falling in the dimly lit room. Only a few more months of this and then he would be a free man, ready to start his life. He sat up and pawed at his eyes, a yawn spilling over the curve of his bottom lip as he stood and stumbled sleepily into the bathroom.

The gym visit was short and sweet and included a five mile run and a dip in the pool. He tried to make it to the gym at least four or five times a week since, unlike his genetically gifted room mate, he had to keep himself up and running to be somewhat confident in his stature. A white shirt was draped over his torso and blue jeans hung loose on slender hips as he sat in an air conditioned office with stacks upon stacks of papers in front of him. He squinted through his glasses and his nose crinkled as he re-read the same sentence a few times before shaking his head and huffing an irritated sigh. "And to think I wanted to teach at one point, this is absolutely maddening..." he was talking to the silence as he struggled to focus on the task at hand. If there was anything that had changed during high school, it was his ability to stay on point. Almost every single one of his teachers in Arizona had commented on his complete lack of ability when it came to staying on track but as the years went on Stiles calmed down and his so-called ADHD faded into something more along the lines of I-don't-give-a-shit-I'm-bored syndrome. His eyes wandered around the office and he dangled the pen resting between his fingers against his mouth which he absently bit at. His glasses slid down to the tip of his nose and he leaned back, kicking his foot up on the desk. It wasn't even noon and he already wanted something else to do. Anything else to do. He rolled the pen between his teeth and cracked his knuckles. It had to take years of skill and practice to read literally thousands of papers about the same topic without trying to kill yourself and this internship had definitely gave him the opportunity to gain a new level of respect for his teachers. The clock ticked again and again and his eyes continued to be absorbed in everything besides the thirty-something papers he had left to grade. After a few painful minutes he forced himself to grab the next stapled bundle and started reading through it. He kicked his foot across his other leg and leaned back in the chair, setting the paper against his thigh and took the red pen from his lips to jot down a few critiques here and there. The sound of foot steps outside the door jolted him from his casually lounged position and Stiles adjusted his glasses and straightened his back, setting the paper down on the desk and leaning over it to look as professional as he could before Ms. Blake walked in. "I'm going to lunch, Stiles," she smiled softly and gestured to the small stack of graded essays, "you're doing great! If you want a break or anything to go grab something to eat, feel free." His 'thank you' was rushed and he stumbled on one foot around the edge of the desk before walking out the door and back into the humid summer air. It would be a lie if he said he was thankful for the heat but it was better than being trapped by four poorly decorated office walls.

It was Tuesday and that always meant tacos. So, Stiles crossed his fingers and shoved the key into the ignition of his pre-apocalyptic vehicle and hoped the engine responded. "Please, please, please, c'mon baby just, yes, yes, oh thank fucking Christ-" the beast roared to life and Stiles let his head lean back against the old fabric of his thirty-something year old Jeep. The paint was fading and it needed constant care, but his mother had always said that it would be his when he got his license. She never got to see him drive it so now getting rid of the hunk of metal wasn't an option for him in any way, shape, or form. The taco shop was off campus and was a popular hangout for the college kids who wanted cheap good food. He ordered fajita tacos and a side of rice and beans just like every other Tuesday and he ate at a small booth by himself. It was strange to think of all that happened, to think back on his mothers death, which made his stomach turn uncomfortably, and to think about his relatively normal years in high school. He had been so good at ignoring anything that didn't directly affect his life, so much that the death around the globe didn't seem to phase him. It shamed him now to know that he had preferred it that way. Stiles bit down on his taco and chewed slowly as he watched one of the televisions placed in the corner of the small shop. Images flashed of the damage from last weeks Kaiju attack on Hawaii; a category three had made its way to their shores and due to its small size hadn't caused much of a problem. Chromebuster had taken it down, a senior Jaeger with seasoned pilots and a very long list of recent kills. However, the next report made Stiles stop chewing and straighten his back as he stared intently at the screen. A hush fell over the small restraunt and a customer in line asked politely if they could turn up the volume. The bus-boy did so with shaky hands.

A category six. More and more of them had been popping up after the rift re-opened months ago but footage of them was hardly released. It was massive and looked down at the new and improved Striker Eureka in the middle of the ocean like the Jaeger was nothing more than an action-figure. It wasn't a quality recording, that was obvious, but its multiple sets of distinct blue eyes and large curved spikes lining its hide were enough to make Stiles blink his eyes away. The team that took that beast down must have kissed the ground when they got out of their Jaegers alive. Stiles lifted another spoon full of rice to his mouth but was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone on the table. RESTRICTED flashed across the screen and he arched a brow as he picked it up and studied the word like it was something foreign. For one, no one but Danny or his Dad called him, that's what texting was for, and two, no one with a restricted number would have any reason to call him. Unless it was the school in which case he assumed Ms. Blake would have just texted. Stiles' mouth wiggled around and he sighed, sliding the little bar to the left and placing it to his ear, "This is Stiles," the words were soft and airy in the quiet room and he stood to walk outside towards his car. "Is this Stiles Stilinski?" the voice on the other end was warm and rough and it coaxed a small smile to tug at the ends of Stiles' mouth. "Yes," he replied quickly, shoving his wallet in his mouth as he dug in the pockets of his jeans for his keys. "Good. I've looked over your application and I'm interested in meeting you, you have time in the next couple days?" The man on the other end was relaxed and confident, his smile prevalent through the small speaker. Stiles narrowed his eyes and finally opened the door of his car, shaking his head back and forth as he mentally shuffled through all of the different internships he had applied for back in Spring. The only one that hadn't been full was the summer program that the English and Language departments had thrown together, unless he missed one. "Uhm, well, I'm sorry but I'm already involved in a private internship through my school but thank-"

"This is Raleigh Becket, I should have clarified earlier."

Stiles' pupils dilated and his heart slammed against his rib cage. His throat went dry and he dropped his wallet onto the floor of his Jeep, squeezing his left hand into a fist over and over again to try and calm the shaking. "I'm calling on behalf of the application you submitted for the Jaeger program, I'm interested in having you on the team and I'd like to meet with you soon, as soon as you can," Raleigh paused and Stiles hoped he couldn't hear his labored breathing and was thankful he couldn't see the sweat now sliding down his temple. He bit down on his lip, hard, hard enough to fill his mouth with the taste of copper. "Are you-" the pilot was frantically cut off. "Yes, yeah, I'm here, sorry... I," Stiles caught his breath and tried to regain his composure, arching his shoulder up to hold his phone against his ear so he could wipe his sweaty palms against his jeans. He knew who did this. Instantly. It was Danny and that alone made his blood boil. He felt betrayed and blind-sided. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? This wasn't just some random Jaeger pilot calling to interview him, this was the man who saved the planet from a hostile alien race. Granted, that alien race had risen again, but none-the-less this was Raleigh Becket, not entertaining a meeting with him seemed completely disrespectful. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose and fisted his hands in his hair. All the while the other end of the phone sat quiet.

"I... yeah. Okay. Let's meet on Thursday then if that-"

"Works perfect," Raleigh was as smooth as ever and chuckled lightly into the phone. It was apparent that he was used to this kind of reaction when calling people, especially people who literally had no idea and no warning that they would ever be speaking to him. "I'll meet you in the Library at two o'clock," his voice was light and friendly and it threw Stiles for a loop as he continued to try and calm himself down. "A-at Brown? The library at Brown?" Stiles stammered and cleared his rapidly drying throat. The pilot laughed, all rasp and deep heat, "Yes, Mr. Stilinski. The library at Brown. I'll see you then, man." The phone clicked and after a few seconds dull silence was all that greeted him. Stiles sat in the drivers seat with the phone pressed loosely to his ear, his eyes raking across the faded fabric that lined his steering wheel. His hands were shaking and his leg twitched uncomfortably. He took in a deep breath and tried to still the trembling in his chest when he exhaled, gripping his keys tightly between his fingers as he set the thin phone into the cupholder. This will all get resolved on Thursday. He nodded to himself and repeated it out loud, "Thursday," he whispered, twisting the key in the ignition. The Jeep rumbled but sputtered out. Stiles twisted the key again, his lips pursed into a thin line, only to receive the same response. His fists slammed against the steering wheel and his head fell back against the seat, eyes turned up to the roof of the car. "Thursday, thursday, thursday," he continued to mutter under his breath and nodded to himself again, taking in breath after breath. Anxiety burned at his throat and he chewed nervously on his bottom lip, sliding the key into the ignition and turning it again. Soft brown eyes closed and relief washed over him as the vehicle growled and came to life.

He drove back to campus in silence. No radio. Nothing. He drummed his thumbs against the steering wheel in an attempt to hide the tremors running up and down his arms. The feeling was strange, like it was something scripted, a prank, a joke, something so outlandish that it couldn't possibly be real. A frantic laugh was pushed out of his mouth as Stiles pulled into the student parking next to the dorms and he nervously cleaned the lenses of his glasses with his shirt. It had to be a joke. He repeated that to himself, chanted it over and over again in his head as he walked back through the lobby to the office where the rest of his day would be spent. Ms. Blake was back and waved to him as he ducked into the room and sat down in the chair. The red pen was spun between his fingers and he wiggled his nose, taking in a deep breath as his eyes descended back on the stack of essays. His stomach was still in knots and his throat was still dry. It had to be a joke. He swallowed and jerked his head up when someone knocked at the door. Ms. Blake was watching him carefully and tilted her head to the side, "Stiles, are you alright? You're really flushed, you look a bit... shaken," she was careful with her words and arched a brow at his overzealous nodding and exaggerated scoff. "Oh, yeah! I'm totally fine, totally a-okay, no need to worry about me. Just gonna grade these and then finish these and not freak out about anything," he shot a toothy smile to the professor whose mouth was turned down and expression was more concerned than confused. She nodded slowly and backed up, saying nothing as she took her leave back into the lobby. He took in another deep breath and gripped the pen tightly in his hand. It's either a joke or everything would be resolved on Thursday, but no matter, come Friday Stiles was going to go on with his life. The life he had meticulously planned for himself since senior year in high school. He nodded to himself again and picked up the next essay and dove into it with alert caramel eyes, taking his mind to any other place besides the conversation he just had in front of his favorite taco shop.

Stiles lost himself in the pool of Times New Roman and Verdanda and when he finished a wave of nerves washed over him from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. He handed the stack of completed papers back to his professor who smiled and dismissed him for the day. Danny was probably already back at their room and if there was one person that Stiles could go a couple weeks without looking at, it was him. The anger swelled again and he gritted his teeth as he walked back across campus. This wasn't just some dumb club or some reality TV show. It wasn't as if he had covered his bathroom in post-it notes or glued googly eyes to everything in the fridge. This was his life. He paused when he looked at the stairs, thumbs pressed into the front pockets of his jeans. Inhale through the nose, exhale through the mouth. Someone in his yoga class told him to fall into that pattern to clear negative energy but in this case he didn't quite think a little deep breathing was going to stop the anxiety currently bubbling inside him. He took his time walking up to their room and when he finally stopped he fished for his keys and put his hand on the doorknob. His eyes closed, "I'm going to walk in and he's going to laugh and yell 'April fools' and then I'm going to punch him in the mouth because it's July and we'll laugh and I'll yell at him and everything will be fine," he whispered under his breath, "yes, everything is going to be fine." He opened the door quickly and walked in, setting his keys on the counter next to the sink. Danny was lounged across the small couch with his eyes glued to the television. Stiles stood there for a moment, his hands shaking and lips pursed into a tight thin line. Get up. He cleared his throat. Get up and start laughing. Danny tilted his head back and smiled, "Hey man, how was grading a million horribly executed essays?" Stiles didn't say anything. He stood in the middle of the room frozen and waited for the big sigh of relief. His room mate quirked his mouth into another smile and arched a brow, "Uhm, so...?" He still said nothing while long bony fingers clenched and un-clenched at his sides. It took a moment for him to calm down, for it to register that maybe the normalcy of this conversation meant that he wasn't the one who submitted his application. Maybe it was Laurie or one of his teachers. Maybe this was all a huge misunderstanding. Maybe he was going to wake up and be in his bed wondering what would bring on a dream like this. "Dude, you're kind of scaring me, can you talk or move or-"

"Raliegh Becket called me today," Stiles blurted, moving to set his glasses down on his desk. The color drained from Dannys face and he could tell by the way his friends mouth dropped open and his eyes darted straight to his feet that he had not been wrong about who it was that submitted his application. Stiles teeth grinded together and he closed his eyes, waiting for some kind of response. Danny looked at the floor and played with the fabric of his gym shorts, "Did you have anything to do with this, Danny?" Stiles asked, voice crisp and direct. It was quiet for a minute and Danny took in a sharp breath, holding his hands up in mock surrender, "I- I honestly didn't think they would call you since you didn't submit yourself but, I mean, Stiles! this is fucking awesome! Raliegh called you himself? That's just-"

Stiles took two steps forward before his fist slammed into the left side of Dannys face. His room mate stumbled backwards and touched his fingertips to the now swollen place on his jaw. Stiles winced and shook his hand back and forth, "Jesus, what the fuck are you made of? It's like hitting a god damn cinder block," he mumbled, huffing an angry sigh and pacing back and forth in the room. Danny didn't retaliate. He didn't say anything, he just sat back down on the couch and rubbed the sore area of his face. Stiles paced for a few minutes, mumbling about his hand and how stupid Danny was until finally he stopped, "This is my life, Danny. My life. It wasn't your right or your place to go out and submit my application, my transcripts, I mean how did you even get my information? Seriously?" He didn't expect to be this calm but the pain from punching someone who felt like they might be made out of concrete seemed to satiate his need for some kind of release. Danny looked to him and shrugged, taking his hand off his face as he gestured to Stiles' laptop, "You left your shit open the day of the fair because you sent in an online order for that stupid life-sized light saber thing you saw all the geeks running around with next to the Cosplay booth so I just jotted it down. I bribed the admissions guy for a copy of your transcrips." Heat filled Stiles' cheeks and he set his hands on his hips, "Watch your mouth, Star Wars is not stupid and I'm ashamed to hear you say that, Danny, really I'm a little hurt that you- okay! Way off subject! So you just thought, 'hey, I'll fuck with my best friends life for no apparent reason because I can't get into the Jaeger program myself hardy fucking har har?!' You literally went against everything I've said and wanted and took a choice away from me and-"

"Just tell them no then! Go ahead and waste the opportunity of a life-time and go be a translator and live a mundane, mediocre life in some other state pretending like the things that are happening in the world aren't actually happening. Go ahead, Stiles. Be a coward."

He suddenly felt the need to do more than just punch Danny in the face again but he didn't, he just stood there shaking with his bottom lip pinched painfully between his teeth. "I'm not a coward because I don't want to save the world, Danny," his voice was low and he shook his head back and forth, "I just don't want this and I expected you to respect that rather than jumping through hoops to try and live vicariously through me!"

They stared at each other for a while, Danny still seated on the couch and Stiles standing next to his bed with his hands shoved in his pockets and his body rocking back and forth on his heels. Both of them had said things to hurt the other. To prove a point. But right now taking what each other said into consideration wasn't on the table and Stiles audibly sighed and sat down on his bed, lazily pulling his shirt up and over his head. "I'll take care of this on Thursday since apparently he's coming to talk to me," he muttered as he looked across to Danny who was trying to subdue the childish smile creeping across his mouth. "What?" Stiles hissed, fumbling angrily with his socks. "It's just really cool," Danny squeaked, his lips finally spreading into a toothy smile, "Whether you like it or not you have to admit that the fact that Becket is coming out here just to see you means you're kind of meant to do this." Stiles stared out the window, straining to focus on something else besides the words sliding over Dannys lips. He made a point, a point that Stiles had tried again and again to dissect and dismember. "No, he's coming here because I couldn't be disrespectful and decline his invitation to meet seeing as he plunged a giant fucking robot into the ocean and got sucked into another dimension to save the world. Kind of hard to say no to him," his words were cold and angry and Danny rolled his eyes. It wasn't worth the time to fight about it anymore, to argue their opposing opinions and bash heads again and again. Stiles would deal with this as politely and as quickly as he could and that was that. The night went on casually, with Danny trying his best to keep his mouth shut and with Stiles trying his best to concentrate on his Japanese literature without thinking about the very good point Danny had made. Why did they want him...? What about him was so intriuging that they sent their best to greet him? He was just some college kid from Arizona with a good GPA and a witty mouth. Nothing about him was draped in glory and nothing about him said 'American hero.' As he laid his head down against the pillow and closed his eyes he heard a quiet 'I'm sorry' from across the room. Dannys back was facing him and instead of saying anything back Stiles threw a closed half-empty water bottle at him and they both chuckled in the darkness. He knew as he closed his eyes that he wasn't cut out for this and the last thing he thought of before he drifted off to sleep was how exactly he was supposed to say that to the man who saved humanity.