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[ Derek's... relieved, honestly. He's seen too much of Tate at his worst to not feel relieved, hearing the quiet gratitude in his voice and the solemn willingness to be helped. Derek nods, jaw clenched tight, and he's spent too many years hiding from people to know how to react to being thanked like that. His voice comes out strangled, though he attempts to sound sturdy. ]
It's. It's okay.
[ He lingers at the doorway for a little too long, staring at Tate's back. The curve of his shoulderblades, the dip of his spine. Maybe it's the rain, maybe it's losing Violet, but he just looks - fragile. It's not until Tate's fully threaded his belt from his pants that Derek realizes he's too close. He doesn't close the door behind him when he leaves, not all the way. He leaves it ajar. Just in case.
Derek hovers in the bedroom, running his hand down his chin and staring at the light coming from beneath the bathroom door. He just - feels like shit. Feels like he has to keep one eye on Tate to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. He focuses on getting some clean clothes and leaving them on the bed for Tate when he comes out; most of Stiles' are in the wash and even though they're closer to Tate's in size, he's not sure how Stiles would feel if Derek lent somebody his shit, so.
He chooses some of his own clothes, instead. Layers, because he knows Tate likes that. A henley, one of the looser ones with longer sleeves, and a plain black tee to pair it with, if he wants it. Sweats, too, a dark wine red. He takes his time, getting it all ready, laid out flat on the sheets of his bed. He needs to leave; he's hovered and wasted enough time for Tate to be nearly done, but he just... doesn't feel right, leaving Tate alone.
Derek sits on the corner of the bed, running his thumb over the side of his phone, feeling sick. He'll go, once Tate's out, obviously not intending to fucking watch him while he gets changed. He just wants to make sure he's gonna come out of that bathroom in one piece. ]
It's. It's okay.
[ He lingers at the doorway for a little too long, staring at Tate's back. The curve of his shoulderblades, the dip of his spine. Maybe it's the rain, maybe it's losing Violet, but he just looks - fragile. It's not until Tate's fully threaded his belt from his pants that Derek realizes he's too close. He doesn't close the door behind him when he leaves, not all the way. He leaves it ajar. Just in case.
Derek hovers in the bedroom, running his hand down his chin and staring at the light coming from beneath the bathroom door. He just - feels like shit. Feels like he has to keep one eye on Tate to make sure he doesn't hurt himself. He focuses on getting some clean clothes and leaving them on the bed for Tate when he comes out; most of Stiles' are in the wash and even though they're closer to Tate's in size, he's not sure how Stiles would feel if Derek lent somebody his shit, so.
He chooses some of his own clothes, instead. Layers, because he knows Tate likes that. A henley, one of the looser ones with longer sleeves, and a plain black tee to pair it with, if he wants it. Sweats, too, a dark wine red. He takes his time, getting it all ready, laid out flat on the sheets of his bed. He needs to leave; he's hovered and wasted enough time for Tate to be nearly done, but he just... doesn't feel right, leaving Tate alone.
Derek sits on the corner of the bed, running his thumb over the side of his phone, feeling sick. He'll go, once Tate's out, obviously not intending to fucking watch him while he gets changed. He just wants to make sure he's gonna come out of that bathroom in one piece. ]
Maybe.
[ anyway. ]
Do you want to talk about your psychiatrist? Or.
Maybe you can tell me more about that boy you like so much?
All I really know about him is that he's sweet. And that you're, uh.
Working on understanding how to practice monogamy. Just in case.
[ anyway. ]
Do you want to talk about your psychiatrist? Or.
Maybe you can tell me more about that boy you like so much?
All I really know about him is that he's sweet. And that you're, uh.
Working on understanding how to practice monogamy. Just in case.
hey, shut up
[Hard to tell, but Tate's not offended.]
what's more fun to talk about, the guy I have a crush on or the dad of my ex?
[Hard to tell, but Tate's not offended.]
what's more fun to talk about, the guy I have a crush on or the dad of my ex?
fun fact: the guy I had an anonymous hook up with (twice) before realizing it was the same guy is in fact the guy I now have a thing for. the uh, more you know? before you say "how the fuck did that happen" I gotta say the second time masks were involved.
imagine that being the story of how we landed together. "we screwed for quota and now we're here!"
imagine that being the story of how we landed together. "we screwed for quota and now we're here!"
[ derek's doing his best not to react to all the little things stiles is doing that makes him fall further and further in love. the twist in his expression, the fucking-- nipple pinch, which does earn an upside-down swat to the face with derek's free hand. stiles even punctuates what he means by fucking fucking into derek's fist, and that's so fucking cute and stupid and hot and stiles-y that derek barely manages to stop himself from kissing him again.
stiles asks for the full line again, and... derek gets it wrong.
but the thing is, he gets it wrong on purpose, and it's a low ball, easily pitched for stiles to bat away. derek's already implied he knows the line in question gets misquoted pretty often, and he's already implied he knows what the line in question actually is. he gets it wrong because he wants to hear stiles talk and correct him while derek tries to bring him closer and closer to coming. ]
Luke...
[ he jerks a little faster. faster, then faster still. he moves his fist up and down stiles' cock until stiles' eyes look just on the verge of being more alert, and then he stops, getting slower, slower. derek leans in, taking another one of those soft, chaste kisses, grunting against stiles' lips when stiles squeezes his sides. when he finishes quoting vader wrong, smirking like he knows full fucking well what he's doing, he's breathing against stiles, really letting him feel the line. ]
I am your father.
[ and then - he's moving. he's pulling away from stiles, taking his hand off his cock and sitting up on his knees. he's still over stiles, just a little, straddling his thigh, the covers that hadn't already been kicked off rolling down derek's back and pooling behind him. lightly, he leans down, kisses stiles on the neck, and - maybe he's waking him up more than he means to, now, maybe he's taking away the quiet. he hopes not by much. ]
And... uh.
[ he sits back up, leaning down, resting on stiles' leg. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side. something falls, and derek won't realize until later, when he steps out of bed to shower, that he just knocked over stiles' cup of water. ]
I need to fuck you. That's - I'm not quoting the movie anymore. I just need to fuck you. I need you to fuck me. I need some kind of fucking, and I need it right now, and if you want to tell me you love me so that I can I know you, I'm more than okay with that.
[ look, he's really into hearing stiles talk about nerd shit. ]
stiles asks for the full line again, and... derek gets it wrong.
but the thing is, he gets it wrong on purpose, and it's a low ball, easily pitched for stiles to bat away. derek's already implied he knows the line in question gets misquoted pretty often, and he's already implied he knows what the line in question actually is. he gets it wrong because he wants to hear stiles talk and correct him while derek tries to bring him closer and closer to coming. ]
Luke...
[ he jerks a little faster. faster, then faster still. he moves his fist up and down stiles' cock until stiles' eyes look just on the verge of being more alert, and then he stops, getting slower, slower. derek leans in, taking another one of those soft, chaste kisses, grunting against stiles' lips when stiles squeezes his sides. when he finishes quoting vader wrong, smirking like he knows full fucking well what he's doing, he's breathing against stiles, really letting him feel the line. ]
I am your father.
[ and then - he's moving. he's pulling away from stiles, taking his hand off his cock and sitting up on his knees. he's still over stiles, just a little, straddling his thigh, the covers that hadn't already been kicked off rolling down derek's back and pooling behind him. lightly, he leans down, kisses stiles on the neck, and - maybe he's waking him up more than he means to, now, maybe he's taking away the quiet. he hopes not by much. ]
And... uh.
[ he sits back up, leaning down, resting on stiles' leg. his hands go to the hem of his own shirt, and he tugs it off over his head, tossing it to the side. something falls, and derek won't realize until later, when he steps out of bed to shower, that he just knocked over stiles' cup of water. ]
I need to fuck you. That's - I'm not quoting the movie anymore. I just need to fuck you. I need you to fuck me. I need some kind of fucking, and I need it right now, and if you want to tell me you love me so that I can I know you, I'm more than okay with that.
[ look, he's really into hearing stiles talk about nerd shit. ]
I remember the masks.
[ just... putting that out there. that quiet confession that yes. he remembers the masks. ]
It's not like every couple has a meet cute. The real world isn't full of Jennifer Anistons.
You like him. He likes you. That can be romantic enough on its own, even if you did happen to meet by barebacking in the streets. We can't all accidentally touch each other's hands at a coffee shop.
[ just... putting that out there. that quiet confession that yes. he remembers the masks. ]
It's not like every couple has a meet cute. The real world isn't full of Jennifer Anistons.
You like him. He likes you. That can be romantic enough on its own, even if you did happen to meet by barebacking in the streets. We can't all accidentally touch each other's hands at a coffee shop.
shut uuup aaugh
for your information it was a back alley
we have standards, derek.
[TMI?]
I don't know if that lowers or raises them but
you know. around here it's hard to tell
for your information it was a back alley
we have standards, derek.
[TMI?]
I don't know if that lowers or raises them but
you know. around here it's hard to tell
[ okay. well. he hates that. he hates that he knows this. he likes peter less now. but he also definitely brought this on himself, HE GUESSES. ]
I don't know. I've fucked in an alley since coming here. I had a fucking threesome in the streets at Carnaval while people watched, and that wouldn't even be in the top ten list of depraved things I've done in this fucking city.
I'm not exactly in a position to judge.
But.
I'm older than you. So. Scratch that. I can judge all I want.
Yes.
You have low standards. The absolute lowest.
[ he's kidding. like 98% kidding. ]
I don't know. I've fucked in an alley since coming here. I had a fucking threesome in the streets at Carnaval while people watched, and that wouldn't even be in the top ten list of depraved things I've done in this fucking city.
I'm not exactly in a position to judge.
But.
I'm older than you. So. Scratch that. I can judge all I want.
Yes.
You have low standards. The absolute lowest.
[ he's kidding. like 98% kidding. ]
you had a threesome?
be kind and rewind a second: a fucking THREEsome?
derek, details? details?
be kind and rewind a second: a fucking THREEsome?
derek, details? details?
[ a-- delay. ]
This seems like kind of a dangerous topic.
I don't want to... normalize sleeping around when you've been asking me how to manage a relationship. This city does enough for that without hearing it from me.
I don't need to sit here and brag about getting my dick wet, either. I don't exactly give a shit about that kind of thing.
[ but - you know. he'll go into details if he's pushed. ]
This seems like kind of a dangerous topic.
I don't want to... normalize sleeping around when you've been asking me how to manage a relationship. This city does enough for that without hearing it from me.
I don't need to sit here and brag about getting my dick wet, either. I don't exactly give a shit about that kind of thing.
[ but - you know. he'll go into details if he's pushed. ]
[Tate takes his time stripping down, putting his belt next to his belongings and then loosening his jeans. He lets them fall to the floor even before he notices the door nearly closed, issuing him privacy, just not completely. It doesn't bother him but it does remind him of what Derek might think of him, what Stiles might - that he's the kid who carried razors, a plausible danger to himself. Who's to say now, at his low point, he might not do something stupid?
He wishes. He feels almost too apathetic for that, stripping naked before getting in under the hot spray of the shower after turning it on. It's too hot, but that's how he likes it, stinging his skin and turning it pink. The water plasters back his hair and the heat spreads through him, fighting away the chill like a flame lighting up the dark. He doesn't scratch at himself, even if seeing some red might make him feel anchored - instead he just tips back his head. Takes his time under the spray. Derek can tell, he knows he can, that Tate cries just a little more - letting his tears wash away with a soft, anguished sigh before he carries on with washing up.
Takes longer than it should for him to pull out of the shower, skin pink from the heat and his hair slicked back over his head. His eyes are hollowed, a little red around the edges and he looks much more reserved as he stares at his own reflection through a foggy mirror and wraps a towel around his waist after drying off his arms. Water trickles down lines on his back as he walks, dripping off from the tips of his hair and beading against his shoulder when he leaves the room to walk back into the adjoining one, seeing Derek waiting for him.
He's better now, he'd like to think, less panicked. Less brimming with tears. He's got his belongings in one hand, and walks over to set them on the bed next to the clothes lined out for him. He shoots a glance to Derek soon after, before picking up the henley and starting to put it on after making sure with a cautious tuck that his towel's secure around his waist.
He doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't say anything.]
He wishes. He feels almost too apathetic for that, stripping naked before getting in under the hot spray of the shower after turning it on. It's too hot, but that's how he likes it, stinging his skin and turning it pink. The water plasters back his hair and the heat spreads through him, fighting away the chill like a flame lighting up the dark. He doesn't scratch at himself, even if seeing some red might make him feel anchored - instead he just tips back his head. Takes his time under the spray. Derek can tell, he knows he can, that Tate cries just a little more - letting his tears wash away with a soft, anguished sigh before he carries on with washing up.
Takes longer than it should for him to pull out of the shower, skin pink from the heat and his hair slicked back over his head. His eyes are hollowed, a little red around the edges and he looks much more reserved as he stares at his own reflection through a foggy mirror and wraps a towel around his waist after drying off his arms. Water trickles down lines on his back as he walks, dripping off from the tips of his hair and beading against his shoulder when he leaves the room to walk back into the adjoining one, seeing Derek waiting for him.
He's better now, he'd like to think, less panicked. Less brimming with tears. He's got his belongings in one hand, and walks over to set them on the bed next to the clothes lined out for him. He shoots a glance to Derek soon after, before picking up the henley and starting to put it on after making sure with a cautious tuck that his towel's secure around his waist.
He doesn't know what to say. So he doesn't say anything.]
yeah, I know. I'm just curious
but if it was something relating to the masks or
the other stuff that happened then, I get it
spur of the moment, right?
but if it was something relating to the masks or
the other stuff that happened then, I get it
spur of the moment, right?
Yeah.
That might be worse, though. At least if it meant something - at least if I'd decided to screw around - I'd have been in control.
[ Not that it ever could have meant something - not that Derek's saying he'd have preferred it if it meant something, because seriously, the last thing he'd ever want is to hurt Stiles - but at least if he'd felt more clearheaded, more in control of the situation, he'd be able to say he never lost his bodily autonomy. He's pretty desperate to keep a firm grip on that shit, after everything back home.
Ugh. ]
This couple... I don't know if they're a couple or not, but - I think they are -
They approached me. Wanted me, together. One of them asked me to share the other with them. And... we shared. That's all.
The full moon makes me kind of fucked up. The masks really pushed that feeling. Made it bigger.
Made me more... starving. For everything.
I just really needed to fuck. Dominate.
I got that. At the Carnaval.
Partially with them. Partially with others.
That's what this city does. Starves you. I feel like it's just easier for them to starve me, seeing as I'm already starving half the time already.
That might be worse, though. At least if it meant something - at least if I'd decided to screw around - I'd have been in control.
[ Not that it ever could have meant something - not that Derek's saying he'd have preferred it if it meant something, because seriously, the last thing he'd ever want is to hurt Stiles - but at least if he'd felt more clearheaded, more in control of the situation, he'd be able to say he never lost his bodily autonomy. He's pretty desperate to keep a firm grip on that shit, after everything back home.
Ugh. ]
This couple... I don't know if they're a couple or not, but - I think they are -
They approached me. Wanted me, together. One of them asked me to share the other with them. And... we shared. That's all.
The full moon makes me kind of fucked up. The masks really pushed that feeling. Made it bigger.
Made me more... starving. For everything.
I just really needed to fuck. Dominate.
I got that. At the Carnaval.
Partially with them. Partially with others.
That's what this city does. Starves you. I feel like it's just easier for them to starve me, seeing as I'm already starving half the time already.
[ stiles was wrong. this is torture. listening to his boyfriend misquote star wars on purpose - and stiles knows he's doing it on purpose, he's not fucking stupid - is like. it's worse than the millions of times he's made a star wars reference in front of scott only or it to go over his head, or the one time he made a sarcastic comment about needing carbonite for something, and liam was ready to go to the fucking - carbonite store to pick some up.
listening to derek intentionally get a line wrong just to get under stiles skin - well, it works pretty much exactly how derek hoped it would. all he says is luke, and stiles sucks in a deep breath like he's getting ready to go off on him - but derek plays dirty, starting to jerk him faster, building him up and building him up until he's panting quietly, distracted enough that he can't even lecture him the way he deserves to be.
and then, right when he starts to concentrate, right when he really starts to focus on the feel of derek's fingers wrapped around him, warm and slick with precome, lightly calloused, the smooth surface of his ring, god, that fucking ring, on his left hand hand, like they're fucking married— right then is when derek eases back, slows his strokes, teases him away from the edge with another sleepy kiss that he loves more than he can even begin to explain.
and derek finishes the line. luke, i am your father. wrong, wrong, incorrect, bzzt. stiles knows he's being goaded, and he knows he shouldn't take the bait, but it's just so — unfair, that derek is going to get away with this. because he is. because he takes his hand off of stiles' dick and that's the opposite of what he wants, but his only protest is a soft, slightly confused little 'hey?' before he realizes that derek isn't going anywhere, he's just. readjusting. sitting up, straddling his thigh - looking all kinds of soft and cozy with the covers pooled around him.
stiles' hands settle against his thighs, sliding up a couple inches and then back down. he arches his neck when derek kisses it, sighing through slightly parted lips, and takes one of his hands off of derek's legs so he can give his cock a couple gentle strokes, already missing derek's touch. he watches derek peel his shirt up and off through half-lidded eyes, a little heavy with sleep, but also lust and love and every ounce of attraction and affection stiles feels for him.
i need to fuck you, derek says, and stiles' sleepy brain piece the last sentence and this one together while derek finishes, and he's nodding because he thinks they should fuck too, he definitely wants to fuck right now, immediately, and derek wants to fucking i love you, i know and—
stiles laughs. he throws his arm over his eyes and he laughs, and it sounds kind of pained, like he doesn't even want to be laughing, like he knows this is just delaying what they both really want, even if it's only by a few seconds, but. ]
Oh my god, you gotta— I am your father, and I need to fuck you? You gotta stop, I'm— I'm gonna have more nightmares, this is the - this is the worst.
[ it's not the worst. it's definitely not the worst and it couldn't be any more obvious. stiles slides his arm up so it rests just above his head, looking up at derek, sleepy and fond, like he loves him. because he does. ]
I love you.
[ so he tells him. not so derek can han solo him— well, not just so derek can han solo him. stiles sits up on his elbows, leans as close as he can without having to sit up all the way, and kisses the closest part of derek he can reach - which is his rib cage, just below his right pectoral. he presses his forehead against him, then tilts his head enough so he can look up. ]
... Is it okay if I fuck you? I really, [ stiles dips his head a little, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the middle of derek's chest, leaving another one against his ribs. ] really want to, if that's okay...
listening to derek intentionally get a line wrong just to get under stiles skin - well, it works pretty much exactly how derek hoped it would. all he says is luke, and stiles sucks in a deep breath like he's getting ready to go off on him - but derek plays dirty, starting to jerk him faster, building him up and building him up until he's panting quietly, distracted enough that he can't even lecture him the way he deserves to be.
and then, right when he starts to concentrate, right when he really starts to focus on the feel of derek's fingers wrapped around him, warm and slick with precome, lightly calloused, the smooth surface of his ring, god, that fucking ring, on his left hand hand, like they're fucking married— right then is when derek eases back, slows his strokes, teases him away from the edge with another sleepy kiss that he loves more than he can even begin to explain.
and derek finishes the line. luke, i am your father. wrong, wrong, incorrect, bzzt. stiles knows he's being goaded, and he knows he shouldn't take the bait, but it's just so — unfair, that derek is going to get away with this. because he is. because he takes his hand off of stiles' dick and that's the opposite of what he wants, but his only protest is a soft, slightly confused little 'hey?' before he realizes that derek isn't going anywhere, he's just. readjusting. sitting up, straddling his thigh - looking all kinds of soft and cozy with the covers pooled around him.
stiles' hands settle against his thighs, sliding up a couple inches and then back down. he arches his neck when derek kisses it, sighing through slightly parted lips, and takes one of his hands off of derek's legs so he can give his cock a couple gentle strokes, already missing derek's touch. he watches derek peel his shirt up and off through half-lidded eyes, a little heavy with sleep, but also lust and love and every ounce of attraction and affection stiles feels for him.
i need to fuck you, derek says, and stiles' sleepy brain piece the last sentence and this one together while derek finishes, and he's nodding because he thinks they should fuck too, he definitely wants to fuck right now, immediately, and derek wants to fucking i love you, i know and—
stiles laughs. he throws his arm over his eyes and he laughs, and it sounds kind of pained, like he doesn't even want to be laughing, like he knows this is just delaying what they both really want, even if it's only by a few seconds, but. ]
Oh my god, you gotta— I am your father, and I need to fuck you? You gotta stop, I'm— I'm gonna have more nightmares, this is the - this is the worst.
[ it's not the worst. it's definitely not the worst and it couldn't be any more obvious. stiles slides his arm up so it rests just above his head, looking up at derek, sleepy and fond, like he loves him. because he does. ]
I love you.
[ so he tells him. not so derek can han solo him— well, not just so derek can han solo him. stiles sits up on his elbows, leans as close as he can without having to sit up all the way, and kisses the closest part of derek he can reach - which is his rib cage, just below his right pectoral. he presses his forehead against him, then tilts his head enough so he can look up. ]
... Is it okay if I fuck you? I really, [ stiles dips his head a little, pressing a gentle, open-mouthed kiss to the middle of derek's chest, leaving another one against his ribs. ] really want to, if that's okay...
[ Tate joins him, despite the long stretch of impatient silence lingering in the air after he shuts off the faucet. Derek knows he should move, get out of here before Tate thinks he's being a fucking creep, but - he sits, and he stays, concern mountain in his stomach the longer it takes for him to hear Tate's soft, wet footsteps padding over porcelain.
There's no smell of blood. No taste of iron in the air, no scratches on Tate's wrist. He knows, now, that Tate can alter his appearance, to some degree - that he's capable of branding himself with a triskele, fixing his skin to hide imperfections or add things that were never there - but Derek looks anyway, cautious, so as not to be seen. He doesn't... feel comforted, knowing that Tate didn't hurt himself. Doesn't feel proud, like he thought he might. Just... sad, still. Sad for him.
Tate starts fidgeting with his henley and Derek-- Derek really should leave. He stays, and he watches Tate, like he's waiting for something to change. A sign that Tate's okay, as if he'll suddenly be alright just because he burned his skin a little red. The bedroom is quiet and still and unevolving, and Derek needs to move before he stagnates with it. ]
I'll... get you something to eat.
[ He doesn't expect Tate to eat, but - he at least wants to make an effort. Make an excuse to leave. He stands. Doesn't leave. Like he's still fucking expecting Tate to kick open the bedroom window and run down the beach and into the ocean, never to be seen again. Derek doesn't even take one step towards the door before he starts buying time with questions, hovering by the edge of the bed, eyes on Tate's profile. ]
Or... drink. Hot chocolate, maybe. I think we still have some pizza, but - I can do something homemade.
There's no smell of blood. No taste of iron in the air, no scratches on Tate's wrist. He knows, now, that Tate can alter his appearance, to some degree - that he's capable of branding himself with a triskele, fixing his skin to hide imperfections or add things that were never there - but Derek looks anyway, cautious, so as not to be seen. He doesn't... feel comforted, knowing that Tate didn't hurt himself. Doesn't feel proud, like he thought he might. Just... sad, still. Sad for him.
Tate starts fidgeting with his henley and Derek-- Derek really should leave. He stays, and he watches Tate, like he's waiting for something to change. A sign that Tate's okay, as if he'll suddenly be alright just because he burned his skin a little red. The bedroom is quiet and still and unevolving, and Derek needs to move before he stagnates with it. ]
I'll... get you something to eat.
[ He doesn't expect Tate to eat, but - he at least wants to make an effort. Make an excuse to leave. He stands. Doesn't leave. Like he's still fucking expecting Tate to kick open the bedroom window and run down the beach and into the ocean, never to be seen again. Derek doesn't even take one step towards the door before he starts buying time with questions, hovering by the edge of the bed, eyes on Tate's profile. ]
Or... drink. Hot chocolate, maybe. I think we still have some pizza, but - I can do something homemade.
Is that how you feel all the time?
what do you mean like
you want for something?
what do you mean like
you want for something?
Dunno, back alleys and bathrooms are the most public shit I've done
it was a little weird to screw in the woods. back at the fort, during that hunt?
didn't really care for that.
so. did you mean you're always horny or
that you're always looking for something?
it was a little weird to screw in the woods. back at the fort, during that hunt?
didn't really care for that.
so. did you mean you're always horny or
that you're always looking for something?
I... I don't care.
[About what there is to eat, or whether Derek's going to get him something to drink with it or not. His voice is still quiet and calm, reeking of exhaustion that wasn't there before. The panic subsided and it rolled in to fill its place as Tate pulls on the shirt overhead. It's a bit oversized in a way that Tate likes and prefers, so he adjusts the collar and then blinks before looking at Derek - he didn't mean to be dismissive.]
If - As long as it's warm, I don't care.
[He felt compelled to add that on, to not seem ungrateful as he scratches an itch on his collarbone and looks back down to the clothing laid out. Sweatpants are far from his favorite thing but hey, not a lot of options here. He picks them up, before finding himself in an odd position. On one hand, he doesn't really feel like he cares if Derek sees him change. On the other, he feels he should. So he hesitates, waiting to be alone to finish changing.]
I shouldn't stay too long so. Whatever you have that's easy.
[About what there is to eat, or whether Derek's going to get him something to drink with it or not. His voice is still quiet and calm, reeking of exhaustion that wasn't there before. The panic subsided and it rolled in to fill its place as Tate pulls on the shirt overhead. It's a bit oversized in a way that Tate likes and prefers, so he adjusts the collar and then blinks before looking at Derek - he didn't mean to be dismissive.]
If - As long as it's warm, I don't care.
[He felt compelled to add that on, to not seem ungrateful as he scratches an itch on his collarbone and looks back down to the clothing laid out. Sweatpants are far from his favorite thing but hey, not a lot of options here. He picks them up, before finding himself in an odd position. On one hand, he doesn't really feel like he cares if Derek sees him change. On the other, he feels he should. So he hesitates, waiting to be alone to finish changing.]
I shouldn't stay too long so. Whatever you have that's easy.
[ Warm. Warm, okay, he can do warm. Derek nods, watching Tate slip his shirt on over his head, and - that's enough. He's overstepping his bounds, making Tate uncomfortable, and that's not what he wanted, he's just... scared. He nods again, and then again, and he's nodding too much for it to be natural. He turns, starts to leave, and then - Tate says he's not going to stay. ]
Wait - you don't want to stay? I could take the couch. I wouldn't mind. Stiles wouldn't, either. You're not going to get in trouble for sleeping one night where you're not supposed to.
[ And - this is going to be Tate's home in a few months, anyway, he wants to add, but he feels like talking that far into the future right now is only going to push Tate away. Derek doesn't want him to fucking be alone, though, or -- or go back with his dom, who he still doesn't trust. He looks at Tate, quietly, just - wracking his brain, going through excuse after excuse after excuse, trying to think of a way to keep him here. Just for tonight. ]
It's raining. You should at least stay until it stops.
Wait - you don't want to stay? I could take the couch. I wouldn't mind. Stiles wouldn't, either. You're not going to get in trouble for sleeping one night where you're not supposed to.
[ And - this is going to be Tate's home in a few months, anyway, he wants to add, but he feels like talking that far into the future right now is only going to push Tate away. Derek doesn't want him to fucking be alone, though, or -- or go back with his dom, who he still doesn't trust. He looks at Tate, quietly, just - wracking his brain, going through excuse after excuse after excuse, trying to think of a way to keep him here. Just for tonight. ]
It's raining. You should at least stay until it stops.
[Tate frowns, just faintly, because he doesn't like the concept of invading on - Stiles and Derek's life. Which is what this feels like still, even if he's been welcomed repeatedly and directly. He doesn't reply because he doesn't know how to, at first. He just makes a gesture, half-shrug and half something else, that gives a bit of hope to the idea of lingering around. He'd like nothing more than to curl up right now and sleep, in all honesty.
He looks up at Derek and his eyes might say it all - how he's on the cusp of agreeing, how he would if he's been told to do something, how the hesitance and fog is just there out of a general slathering of apathy that's eating him from the inside out to cover out the burned out holes in his chest from feeling too much.]
Pizza's fine. I'll eat pizza.
He looks up at Derek and his eyes might say it all - how he's on the cusp of agreeing, how he would if he's been told to do something, how the hesitance and fog is just there out of a general slathering of apathy that's eating him from the inside out to cover out the burned out holes in his chest from feeling too much.]
Pizza's fine. I'll eat pizza.
Me. I do.
Fuck, jesus. I don't know. I don't know what you want me to say.
I didn't mean I'm always horny - I mean, I get pretty wired around the full moon, and I think LIES knows how to replicate and take advantage of that feeling, but -
"Always looking for something".
[ yes. of course he is. he's a wolf without a pack, he's an orphan who lost his family. he's a monster surrounded by humans. his whole life is nothing but missing pieces. ]
I don't know. Yes. Yeah.
Fuck, jesus. I don't know. I don't know what you want me to say.
I didn't mean I'm always horny - I mean, I get pretty wired around the full moon, and I think LIES knows how to replicate and take advantage of that feeling, but -
"Always looking for something".
[ yes. of course he is. he's a wolf without a pack, he's an orphan who lost his family. he's a monster surrounded by humans. his whole life is nothing but missing pieces. ]
I don't know. Yes. Yeah.
Page 42 of 130
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