drift away on a sea-breeze [fic]
Derek, Scott, Isaac, Jackson (Stiles, Lydia); Scott/Allison, Jackson/Lydia; Anchor yourself to something, and never let it go.
“I need to get angry,” Derek mutters through clenched teeth. He feels the wolf dragging itself to the surface, the wolf’s bane giving it strength.
“Then get angry,” Stiles says with a fearful sort of desperation. He’s started jabbing him in the shoulder like he thinks it might help in some way.
“You’re not helping,” Derek hisses.
“You seem pretty pissed to me,” Stiles retorts. Derek is pissed. He’s losing control and it’s frustrating him; Stiles is annoying him and it’s irritating. Neither of these things are helpful though. They’re emotions pressing forward but the wolf is just pushing them back; making them miniscule and meaningless. If anything they’re just distracting him from his goal.
Because Derek is angry but it’s not the right kind.
-
The full moon is taking Scott’s control and he thinks of Allison.
Thinks of her smell and her smiling face; thinks of all the times they were happy. There’s this overwhelming sadness lingering over the top of it all and Scott still hasn’t figured out how to ignore it; how to separate the good things from the bad. He keeps trying but he just can’t focus.
AllisonAllisonAllison, he thinks.
GoneGoneGone, he thinks.
And he howls at the moon.
-
When he’s losing control Isaac thinks of his dad. He remembers moments from his childhood when his family was happy and safe. But sometimes he’ll feel pain shooting through his body and for a moment he’ll forget how to remember the good times. He’ll remember bruises and darkness and a desperate fear that’s seeped into his bones.
He has to perfect this; he has to be able to always remember.
Because it only takes a moment.
-
He feels claws growing on his fingers and fangs in his mouth; then he feels a hand around his wrist and he knows that it’s her.
“Oh no you don’t,” Lydia tells him. He looks at her and she’s using her over the top glare that she only uses when she’s trying to make a point. He feels this strange sense of ease flowing over him and his control is suddenly as solid as it’s ever been. He sort of wants to smile but he kind of just pouts instead. Lydia’s face twitches, like she’s trying to decide whether it’s appropriate to laugh at the face he’s making.
Jackson looks away, but he moves his hand so that he’s holding hers.