[ It's not like being weird and antagonistic-without-being-antagonistic is new for Tate, exactly, but this is still sticking to Derek's ribs in a way he can't quite explain. It feels like Tate's flirting with him playfully just as much as it feels like he's genuinely upset about something and expressing himself through acting difficult, and Derek doesn't really know what tone to take with him. He opens the door just enough for Derek to see him, and Derek watches, alert, holding eye contact. He drifts closer, stopping right in front of the bathroom, just as Tate shuts the door.
Mostly shuts the door, at least. Derek reaches his hand out and keeps it ajar, looking at Tate through the sliver of a gap he keeps open, barely the width of his fingers. He stares at Tate in silence, the sliver of him he can see, and he thinks about caving. He chooses not to. ]
no subject
Mostly shuts the door, at least. Derek reaches his hand out and keeps it ajar, looking at Tate through the sliver of a gap he keeps open, barely the width of his fingers. He stares at Tate in silence, the sliver of him he can see, and he thinks about caving. He chooses not to. ]
... Why? You could just invite me in.