You know that's what I want for you too, right?

[Tate speaks between bites, his head tucked forward but gaze lifted up; he holds his fork away from his plate as he speaks, but then resumes taking another bite of pasta soon after that. Shit could use a little cheese but, well, he's not complaining. He uses his fork to split the pile of pasta down the middle, working it into halves so he can leave some behind for Derek.]

... But I want to let you take care of me too. I'm just... not used to it. I like it, but it's new.