[ stiles showered twice today, so there's no reason he should smell bad. he scrubbed, he applied deodorant - he should be fine. his eyebrows draw together, and he almost lifts one of his arms up to take a cautious sniff before he realizes what it is derek means. it just makes him feel a little bit worse, but only briefly, because he's been trying to relax.
trying is the key word, though, because he knows he's not relaxed. he feels mostly okay, but he's been worried about the damn cat and whether he's ruined the trust he built with her, and he's been worried about derek being mad at him, whih would have been justified, and he's been worried about this stupid citation. his first one, and they hit him hard. no talking, and no moving - the two things he does best, the two things he doesn't really know how not to do. for six hours.
he'll be fine. he knows he'll be fine, but he still doesn't want to do it. he still doesn't want to submit.
stiles wants to admit to derek that she's scared because he purposely startled her by slapping his hand down onto the kitchen counter, but - it won't solve anything. it won't change the fact that she's been keeping her distance from him. he just feels a little sad about it, because that's not him. he's not cruel, especially not to those he cares about. he's just - stressed. about a lot of things, about money, about finding another job that isn't humiliating or degrading, about stupid shit he hasn't brought up with derek because it's just stupid shit. he still has to figure out his meds. he's close to running out.
derek sits, and stiles feels this weird urge to just crawl into his lap. he doesn't do it, but he does put his book aside and shift his legs a little, so they're folded a little more loosely. they way derek looks at him helps put him a little more at ease, and he breathes out, nodding quietly. if derek says she'll come around, then he trusts derek.
absently, he twists his ring. ]
I - didn't know cats could sense that sort of thing. The way you can, I mean.
[ he doesn't know a whole lot about cats, if he's honest. stiles glances down, tilting his chin toward the bag derek left beside the bed. ]
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trying is the key word, though, because he knows he's not relaxed. he feels mostly okay, but he's been worried about the damn cat and whether he's ruined the trust he built with her, and he's been worried about derek being mad at him, whih would have been justified, and he's been worried about this stupid citation. his first one, and they hit him hard. no talking, and no moving - the two things he does best, the two things he doesn't really know how not to do. for six hours.
he'll be fine. he knows he'll be fine, but he still doesn't want to do it. he still doesn't want to submit.
stiles wants to admit to derek that she's scared because he purposely startled her by slapping his hand down onto the kitchen counter, but - it won't solve anything. it won't change the fact that she's been keeping her distance from him. he just feels a little sad about it, because that's not him. he's not cruel, especially not to those he cares about. he's just - stressed. about a lot of things, about money, about finding another job that isn't humiliating or degrading, about stupid shit he hasn't brought up with derek because it's just stupid shit. he still has to figure out his meds. he's close to running out.
derek sits, and stiles feels this weird urge to just crawl into his lap. he doesn't do it, but he does put his book aside and shift his legs a little, so they're folded a little more loosely. they way derek looks at him helps put him a little more at ease, and he breathes out, nodding quietly. if derek says she'll come around, then he trusts derek.
absently, he twists his ring. ]
I - didn't know cats could sense that sort of thing. The way you can, I mean.
[ he doesn't know a whole lot about cats, if he's honest. stiles glances down, tilting his chin toward the bag derek left beside the bed. ]
What's that?