Chapter Text
When Stiles woke up he was in a bedroom. Groaning, he rolled over onto his back. He saw Erica sitting on the floor at the foot of the bed.
"Erica?" He searched, his voice cracking.
"We're dead." She whispered.
"What?"
"We're dead." She said, louder this time, as she stood up. She started pacing. "I mean, we were already dead, but Derek hates us and he's not going to help us so we're going to die faster." Stiles sat up on the bed as he watched her fall apart.
"You don't know that. We could stil-"
"Still what? Kill ourselves before they kill us? Derek punched you in the face. You know what, maybe we could get him to kill us. At least he'd be more humane." She snorted. Her eyes widened suddenly. "Oh god, they're going to tear us apart. You didn't see the tiger tributes, the careers. They're huge. We don't...oh, god." Stiles stood up as she started hyperventilating. He quickly hugged her tightly and tried to shush her. She turned into a pile of sobs in his arms. He rubbed his hand up and down her back, repeating that they were going to be alright. That she was going to be alright. He didn't really know how to deal with a crying teenage girl, but he was sure he could handle it better than if she had another seizure.
When he finally got her to stop crying, he laid her down on the bed. He sat next to her and stoked her hair until she fell asleep. He felt like he should lean down and kiss her forehead, but she was right, they were dead. No point in getting attached now. He watched her sleep for a few minutes, trying not to think of the terrible things that were soon to happen, when his stomach grumbled. Eating. Yes. Good idea.
He walked out of the bedroom cautiously. He wasn't used to being on a train, and the idea there could be some big bad werewolf ready to punch him at any turn made his usual curiosity die down. He traveled down a few cars before asking someone where the dining car was. Of course it was the opposite direction of where he'd been heading. Five minutes later he found himself entering the right car. He took one step in before freezing at the sight at Derek sitting at table. He tried to retreat, but his back hit the door. Then his stomach reminded him why he was there in the first place.
"Sit." Derek growled, not looking up from his full plate. Scared to disobey, Stiles walked slowly over to the table and sat down. Derek scooted his plate over to Stiles. He blinked at the plate.
"Eat." Derek commanded, and yeah, Stiles could do that. Stiles shoveled the food into his mouth like he hadn't eaten in a week.
While Stiles ate he tried to think about what he was going to say, because he had to say something. He was a Stilinski. He was strong and courageous, or at least that was what he wanted people to think. He waited a minute after he had eaten all he could to speak up. While Stiles was filling his face, Derek had taken to glaring at him.
"Not hungry?" Stiles asked with a smirk, and…okay, that wasn't what he wanted to say, but that's what came out. Derek just continued to glare at him. "So…are you going to help us? Or are you guessing we're as hopeless as we look?" He asked seriously.
"You are hopeless. Stupider than you look, too. I mean, you are a real fucking idiot." Derek let out a huff of a laugh. Stiles could feel his jaw tighten as Derek continued. "You know, if you would have shut up and kept your head down, your name would have never been chosen. And, what? You want me to feel sorry for you? Take pity on you? You want me to somehow keep both of you alive? You're hopeless." Derek finished, dragging the plate back over to his side. He picked up one of the rolls Stiles hadn't eaten and took a bite.
Stiles was furious. Who the fuck was Derek to say these things? What Stiles did was brave and honorable. It was arguably the best thing he'd done in his life, and was something he would never apologize for. Now was the time for Stiles to say all those clever things that had left him at the beginning of their conversation, expect he was Stiles, so that wasn't going to happen. Instead Stiles stood up, took the plate, and threw it against the wall before storming out.
When Stiles finally found his way to the room he woke up in, he closed the door behind himself, quickly leaning on it for support. He saw Erica sleeping peacefully on the bed and decided to let her be. Instead he slid down the door and sat in the dark for the rest of the night.
In the morning Erica took a shower in anticipation of the Capital. Stiles, however, stayed quiet. He didn't bother to shower or brush his teeth. He didn't even show up to breakfast. He did stop for a second to look at his fresh black eye.
An hour before they were supposed to arrive at the Capital Erica found him in the bedroom. He was sitting on the bed, head in his hands. When the door opened he let his hands down, but kept his shoulders hunched. She walked over to him without a word. When he didn't acknowledge her, she sat down next to him and took his hand in hers. He immediately gave it a squeeze, because he may be hopeless but he wasn't alone.
Upon entering the final tunnel before the capital, Stiles left the room. He didn't really think that he'd find the tall buildings and absurd people all that fascinating. Erica did though, so she stayed, nose pressed against the window. He didn't know how long he'd been in the hallway before Derek showed up. As Derek walked towards him, he stood taller. His jaw tightened yet again and he could feel a fire behind his eyes. Derek walked straight to him.
"That black eye of yours? Don't let them cover it up." Derek told him in a quiet yet rough voice, and...okay...what? Why would he say that? If Stiles didn't know any better that sounded like advice. It couldn't be, though. Derek Hale helping? That's preposterous. Derek's words rolled around in Stiles' head until the train finally stopped.
Stiles meeting his style team was something he wished he could share with Scott. He hadn't caught any of their names, but he know he'd never forget their faces. Tufts of neon orange hair, a pair of purple eyes, and zebra striped skin was all Stiles would see for hours as these people scrubbed him down and made him look like a new person. Well, almost new person. Stiles didn't necessarily have a lot to work with. When time came to put the makeup on, the voice in the back of his head told his to forget Derek and let them cover his black eye, yet as they neared his eye he told them to leave it. They warned him against it, saying there might get repercussions. He insisted, though, and in the end got his way. When they had done as much as they could, they left him alone and naked in a bare room.
Stiles started inspecting his new skin, which was tanner than he remembered. He inspected himself for a while before the door opened again, causing himself to cover up. In walked a tall black man, dressed in a black polo and black slacks. He was holding a robe which he handed to Stiles. While Stiles put on the robe it hit him, he'd seen this man before. But from where? He'd memorized every bit of the past games, and he hadn't seen him from there.
"So, you're Genim?"
"My friends…I like to go by Stiles."
"Stiles. Well, I like to go by Deaton. It's nice to meet you." Deaton smiled as he put his hand out for Stiles to shake. Stiles took it quickly and gave it the firmest shake he could handle.
"You don't look like you're from the capital." Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself. Deaton chuckled.
"That's because I'm not. I only come in for special occasions." Deaton explained.
"Then…what? I'm a special occasion?" Stiles questioned.
"A boy from a lower district volunteers from the first time in years. That's rare. That's…special, don't you think?"
"I think it's stupid."
"Stupid, or brave?"
"Stupid." Stiles repeated. Deaton laughed again.
"I guess we'll have to wait and see." Deaton said with a knowing smile that creeped Stiles out.
"So, how bad are the costumes this year?" Stiles asked to change the subject.
It was the night of the Tribute Parade and District Ten was quiet. It was even quieter in the Stilinski home. It was a little over an hour before the parade was set to air, but the only remaining resident could be found at an empty dining room table instead of the living room. When Stiles left, the peacekeeper went straight home, changed out of his uniform, and sat down for dinner. Just like any other normal day. Except there was no dinner on the table, and no one talking a hundred miles a minute about their day. He may have never listened to his son's ramblings, but it didn't mean he wouldn't miss them.
Suddenly someone was knocking on the door. It took him a second to realize what the sound was, but when the sound got louder he pulled himself out of his chair. He was a few steps away from the door when it opened to reveal Scott. They stood in silence for a second looking at each other.
"Hi…Mr. Stilinski. I, well Danny, though you could use some company." Scott explained. He stared at Scott to see if he was joking. After it was obvious Scott wasn't joking, he nodded.
"Uh, sure."
Scott smiled at him and stepped into the house. He was followed by his mother, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, all four of Danny's siblings, and Danny's mom. He just stood there as the parade filed in. The two mothers immediately went into the kitchen to start on dinner, while the kids went into the living room.
All of the sudden he didn't want company. It took around seven minutes for someone to notice his absence. Scott wandered around the house until he found him in Stiles room. He knocked on the door frame, catching Mr. Stilinski by surprise. He had Stiles' favorite red hoodie in his hand.
"Am I interrupting?" Scott asked with a soft smile. The peacekeeper sighed and shook his head no. Scott crossed the room slowly and took a seat next to him.
"You think you're ready," Stilinski started. "When you have a child, you know what their future might hold, so you prepare yourself. You imagine what would happen if they god forbid get reaped. It kept me up at night sometimes." He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. "But it doesn't prepare you for when it really happens."
"He's going to be fine." Scott tried to assure him. The older man let out a humorless chuckle. "Look at me," Scott commanded more firmly, causing Stilinski to look him in the eye. "He is going to be fine. He is going to win. He is going to come home. It will happen." Stilinski silently nodded. Somehow Scott's words helped. Scott's naivety comforted the man. "Now come on, let's go watch him be paraded around in a silly outfit. Plus, you don't want to miss out on the food. Mrs. Mahealani is a genius in the kitchen."
Stiles was surprised by what Deaton had in store for them. In hindsight, maybe he shouldn't have. He and Erica sat in their chariot waiting for the parade to begin. Erica looked like a different person. At school very few girls put effort into their looks, and Erica wasn't one of them. Now she had makeup on. Her eye's sparkled, and her dull hair was now glowing under the capitol lights. They were both dressed in tight white pants and a white apron, no shirt. Deaton decided that they shouldn't focus on the animals this year, but the people who kill them. Apparently Erica had a body that she had been hiding under frumpy clothes.
"You look amazing." Stiles whispered to her. She smiled bashfully. It was the first time he'd ever seen her smile. He wondered idly if it's the first time she'd ever smiled.
"You look…the same." She tried. He laughed.
Suddenly the parade was starting. Deaton jogged up to their chariot as they stood up.
"Take these," Deaton said, handing them both a button. "When that moment comes, when all eyes are on you, press the button." He told them before retreating back to the sidelines.
The teenagers looked at each other in confusion, but before they could ask questions their chariot started moving. The capitol lights got brighter as they were pulled forward. The cheers were louder than they were on tv, but Stiles expected that. When it was their time to shine Stiles took Erica's hand in his. She looked to him, and he nodded. Together they squeezed. Blood started squirting from the sides of the chariot onto them. Once the crowd realized what was happening, they cheered louder than they had for any district before them. They started throwing roses and blowing kisses to them, and for a second Stiles thought he might actually have a chance.