ficlet: it ain't over
Author: froggydarren
Title: it ain't over
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, mentions of Cora and Lydia
Summary: The world knows about werewolves now, and the first election after the reveal has just come to a close. With the results in, Stiles is at a loss about everything.
Warnings: panic attack reference, US election parallel
Content Notes: alt. universe or future fic - it's the reader's choice
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 610
Prompt: #198 - politics
Author's Notes: So this isn't the fluffy piece I wanted to write initially. It's me processing the current situation from an outside point - I'm not a US citizen, but it's still not easy. So yeah, this is me writing what I needed to hear these past few days. UnBetaed, as per usual.
“Now what?”
It’s a loaded question, and Stiles knows that there’s no easy answer to it. He’s sitting on the floor, back propped up against the desk that he’s spent more time in the last year at than in his own bed. He’s not looking up, forehead rested on his arms crossed on top of his bent knees.
“Now we breathe,” Derek tells him from across the room.
How? Stiles wants to ask. He’s been near a panic attack on and off for the past week, but managed to fight it off. Now, though, now he’s only just getting air into his lungs, more because his body demands it than because his mind has any control over it.
“We breathe, and you’ll come with me to the gym where we hit the hell out of the punch bag,” Derek continues, voice low and strained. “Then we sleep for a day. And the day after, we get up and fight harder.”
“We’ve been…” Stiles starts, and his voice breaks on the words.
“I know we’ve been doing it for the past year. I know that,” Derek tells him, and then there’s the warmth of a palm on Stiles’ shoulder. “And I know you’re tired. We all are. But this isn’t the time to run. I’m done running,” he finishes with determination.
Stiles doesn’t look up, though he feels the urge to. His mind spins as it calls up memories of the year that culminated in today, the year that they spent planning, campaigning, fighting. Yes, he’s tired, he’s exhausted to the bone. He hasn’t slept more than four hours in one go for more than a month.
It’s been a long ride, and a long battle, but despite it all, Stiles has no regrets. The campaign they were running was for rights, for equality, for someone who’d give everyone, werewolves included, a chance to live their lives as freely and openly as humans can. It wasn’t his idea initially, to have Cora and Lydia stand up and run for the leadership of the country almost immediately after werewolf existence was revealed to the world, but he was the first one to stand by them and support them both. He’s the one who dragged Derek into it, with promises of success, and with plans that weren’t supposed to fail.
Instead, they’re left with a leader who’s been very vocal in supporting the old school hunter clans, one with ties to the Argents, of all the possible families. They’re left with nothing.
“It’s not nothing,” Derek says, and Stiles realises that he’s been mumbling to himself.
“It feels like it,” Stiles says with a heavy sigh.
“I know it does. But we’ve got Allison up there, and Boyd,” Derek tells him as he slides down and sits by Stiles’ side. “We’ve got more people in good positions to not lose what we’ve won so far. Maybe not the majority, but you know they’ll kick ass.”
There’s a moment of silence, and Stiles gathers his thoughts.
“Yeah,” he breathes out.
He lifts his head, and then he drops it sideways, leaning on Derek’s shoulder.
“Yeah, we do. It still blows, though,” he says.
“It does, but it’s not over.”
“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over?” Stiles asks, and lets out a weak chuckle.
Derek moves his hand to Stiles’ and links their fingers. There’s a gentle squeeze, and Stiles can’t help but smile. He’s been wondering since they heard the results if they can keep going, or if this is going to break them. But they’re in it together, and Stiles knows that they’ll fight the good fight side by side, no matter what.
Title: it ain't over
Rating: G
Pairing/s: Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek, Stiles, mentions of Cora and Lydia
Summary: The world knows about werewolves now, and the first election after the reveal has just come to a close. With the results in, Stiles is at a loss about everything.
Warnings: panic attack reference, US election parallel
Content Notes: alt. universe or future fic - it's the reader's choice
Submission Type: ficlet
Word Count: 610
Prompt: #198 - politics
Author's Notes: So this isn't the fluffy piece I wanted to write initially. It's me processing the current situation from an outside point - I'm not a US citizen, but it's still not easy. So yeah, this is me writing what I needed to hear these past few days. UnBetaed, as per usual.
“Now what?”
It’s a loaded question, and Stiles knows that there’s no easy answer to it. He’s sitting on the floor, back propped up against the desk that he’s spent more time in the last year at than in his own bed. He’s not looking up, forehead rested on his arms crossed on top of his bent knees.
“Now we breathe,” Derek tells him from across the room.
How? Stiles wants to ask. He’s been near a panic attack on and off for the past week, but managed to fight it off. Now, though, now he’s only just getting air into his lungs, more because his body demands it than because his mind has any control over it.
“We breathe, and you’ll come with me to the gym where we hit the hell out of the punch bag,” Derek continues, voice low and strained. “Then we sleep for a day. And the day after, we get up and fight harder.”
“We’ve been…” Stiles starts, and his voice breaks on the words.
“I know we’ve been doing it for the past year. I know that,” Derek tells him, and then there’s the warmth of a palm on Stiles’ shoulder. “And I know you’re tired. We all are. But this isn’t the time to run. I’m done running,” he finishes with determination.
Stiles doesn’t look up, though he feels the urge to. His mind spins as it calls up memories of the year that culminated in today, the year that they spent planning, campaigning, fighting. Yes, he’s tired, he’s exhausted to the bone. He hasn’t slept more than four hours in one go for more than a month.
It’s been a long ride, and a long battle, but despite it all, Stiles has no regrets. The campaign they were running was for rights, for equality, for someone who’d give everyone, werewolves included, a chance to live their lives as freely and openly as humans can. It wasn’t his idea initially, to have Cora and Lydia stand up and run for the leadership of the country almost immediately after werewolf existence was revealed to the world, but he was the first one to stand by them and support them both. He’s the one who dragged Derek into it, with promises of success, and with plans that weren’t supposed to fail.
Instead, they’re left with a leader who’s been very vocal in supporting the old school hunter clans, one with ties to the Argents, of all the possible families. They’re left with nothing.
“It’s not nothing,” Derek says, and Stiles realises that he’s been mumbling to himself.
“It feels like it,” Stiles says with a heavy sigh.
“I know it does. But we’ve got Allison up there, and Boyd,” Derek tells him as he slides down and sits by Stiles’ side. “We’ve got more people in good positions to not lose what we’ve won so far. Maybe not the majority, but you know they’ll kick ass.”
There’s a moment of silence, and Stiles gathers his thoughts.
“Yeah,” he breathes out.
He lifts his head, and then he drops it sideways, leaning on Derek’s shoulder.
“Yeah, we do. It still blows, though,” he says.
“It does, but it’s not over.”
“It ain’t over ‘til it’s over?” Stiles asks, and lets out a weak chuckle.
Derek moves his hand to Stiles’ and links their fingers. There’s a gentle squeeze, and Stiles can’t help but smile. He’s been wondering since they heard the results if they can keep going, or if this is going to break them. But they’re in it together, and Stiles knows that they’ll fight the good fight side by side, no matter what.