[Tate's always one flip of a switch away from changing his attitude, the direction of his mood - and he's sitting on the fence for that again here. Perched on the work bench, his sneakers slide against the tile floor as he breathes in deep when Derek settles down in front of him. He could just take a grip of his hair and be fine with this, he knows, but he's still unsettled from being asked to barter this way. The irony being he'd be just fine if he'd been the one to suggest it.
He curls his fingers into his shirt right above his belt line, tugging it back with a twitch of them. His boxers peek out through the open v of his zipper and he stares down at Derek's hands rather than his face. This is fine? It's just like the day they signed, way back when. Nothing matters but the bubble they're in. When it's over, it's over. They're in control.]
Yeah. Yeah, you're right...
[He'll lean into believing that, his head nodding gently. His leg twitches, then parts a little wider as he leans back - arms planted down on the bench on either side of him. He's a little bit more eager, more relaxed. More ready for this.]
no subject
He curls his fingers into his shirt right above his belt line, tugging it back with a twitch of them. His boxers peek out through the open v of his zipper and he stares down at Derek's hands rather than his face. This is fine? It's just like the day they signed, way back when. Nothing matters but the bubble they're in. When it's over, it's over. They're in control.]
Yeah. Yeah, you're right...
[He'll lean into believing that, his head nodding gently. His leg twitches, then parts a little wider as he leans back - arms planted down on the bench on either side of him. He's a little bit more eager, more relaxed. More ready for this.]
... Happy birthday?