or say we're only dreaming;

[melocoton]

O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
♥ comment to this post with a prompt of any kind--song lyrics, pictures, music, or even just an idea for a plot.
♥ request one of my muses from my desperately needing an update muselist
♥ i'll respond to it and we can thread some stuff and things.
♥ post is NOT nsfw sorry ;A;

Comments

HUFFS LOUDLY AND TAGS FINALLY

[hypercompetent]

[ ending up on a pirate's ship may not have been stiles stilinski's original intention.

then again, stiles' plans have not always been what one might call 'well thought out'. his mission? to get away from home for a little while. because of a ten percent probability that he might inherit his mother's disease, he was ordered to stay home when the navy started drafting. problem was, his best friend had been, considering his encounter with a creature of the night; he'd been recruited to a special ops ship, leaving stiles very much alone and very much wanting to chase after him. after all, scott might be a werewolf, but stiles isn't sure that he can make it out there without him. and that kind of goes both ways, really, because stiles is now pretty much hellbent on finding him.

so that's how he found himself on a pirate's ship. a wolf pirate ship, to be perfectly frank, because when the flags flew and he found himself face to face with the captain, he realized very quickly that he may have gotten himself in over his head.

by some grace of god, stiles wasn't forced to walk the plank (or turned into werewolf chow) on his first day, and he quickly took on what others would call "cabin boy" kind of positions--scrubbing decks, putting out lines to catch fish, adjusting the sails, the usual stuff. today, he's not doing the scrubbing of the galley he's supposed to be doing, because the teenage human is staring at maps, tracking trading patterns with his fingers.

they're supposed to be raiding english ships off the coast, but the way they're going, they're never going to get close. stiles' brow furrows and he narrows his eyes a little as he starts to track the ship's progress with one hand, then another that he saw leave from the same port, an english ship. if the winds blow this way, and they've been traveling at a speed of thirty knots an hour, then...

completely wrapped up in his maps, he doesn't even notice when another person comes into the room that he's definitely not supposed to be in. ]

rewards

[triskeles]

[ Thus far, a day has not gone by where someone hasn't questioned him why their human stowaway hadn't been thrown overboard to swim back to port, at the very least. Derek isn't wholly sure he has the answer that they're looking for, or really an answer that will make any amount of sense to them. It might to Isaac, but he'd still just give him a half confused, half amused look regardless.

Stiles is an infuriating teenager. Not to say that his crew doesn't have a good handful of that type, considering the nature of Derek's breed and subsequent pack, but he tries the captain's patience on a day to day basis. (That's probably why people question why he hasn't been kicked off the ship, actually.) From day one they'd bickered and fought and the very first day he had not hesitated to hang him upside-down from the rigging. The only problem with that? Stiles had figured out how to get himself down, eventually, and hadn't cracked his skull.

And then he went right back to arguing with him. It won him a few points with some of the crew, apparently.

Enough to keep him alive doing chores they all didn't want to do, anyways, but he's not going to complain so long as work is being done. Which it isn't, currently. Instead, he finds that their newly appointed cabin boy is in his cabin and looking at their maps. His brow furrows a little, and he observes his movements from the angle he stands at, eyes tracking long fingers as they move across the paper. Right, they're following a ship right now, but to be perfectly honest?

Derek hasn't bothered adjusting their course any since he first calculated the other ship's route. Certainly, he's one of the best. But even more certain has been his apathy for it as of late. There's just something about Stiles that brings his interest forward again, though, and he moves towards him on silent feet so he can close a large hand around the back of his neck, squeezing to mock-scruff him (and also startle the hell out of him) as he leans down next to his shoulder. ]

Can I help you, Stiles?

;A;

[hypercompetent]

[ stiles definitely doesn't see that coming--disadvantages of being the human on a werewolf ship--and the moment the hand closes around the back of his neck, he jerks upwards with a loud-- ] Oh my god--

[ and very nearly brains himself on derek's head, but he freezes at the top of his acension and feels guilt (and a little bit of terror) congeal in his stomach. stiles stares at derek for a second before his shoulders slump and he drops back to look at the map. eventually, he bristles again and looks back at the map, because stiles is stupid, and if he's going to get thrown overboard for real this time, he's going to be thrown overboard and die right. ] Actually--yeah, yeah, you can.

Why are you directing the ship southeast? [ he might as well just let it out there, and, still scruffed, the teenager turns his sharp, brown eyed gaze back on derek. ] The closest navy ship should be southwest, if you keep going at the speed. I mean, hell, if you wanted to route it off you could stop the ship at a cove--I think there's a cove near here--and wait, cause at the speed we're going, there's no way in hell we're gonna catch up. But if the wind catches like it looks like it's going to, the ship'll literally fall right into our laps.

[triskeles]

[ There's something so satisfying about scaring the hell out of Stiles. It's not that difficult, considering he comes and goes quieter than anyone else on the ship and Stiles is as jumpy as a jackrabbit-- his pulse even speeds like one at rest, it's ridiculous-- but it's still something he enjoys.

Making sure not to get smacked in the face with his head, though, Derek leans back a little without removing his hand from where it's settled. His hand doesn't squeeze any tighter where it rests, but he figures that the touch as-is will be just enough to convey his intent. Since Stiles stowed away, he's maybe brained the teen once, shoved him up against something a handful of times, but he doesn't intend to hurt him. ]

Are you suddenly taking an interest in our ventures? [ There's faint amusement to his tone, but he drops his eyes almost absently down to the map after looking Stiles in the eye for a moment. He mentally recalculates, tracking the path that he'd made with his fingers just as the wolf had come in. It's not wrong, more like something they could easily pull off. ] There's another ship due for these waters this week. While we could take both easily, especially with these adjustments to the course, if right, I hadn't been entirely concerned about it.

[ His fingers uncurl from the scruff of Stiles' neck, hand pulling away. ] But you are more than welcome to tell the helm to change it if you're confident about it.