[ Derek doesn't startle easily, but even though he'd expected to see Tate tonight, his arrival still takes him by surprise. Tate's voice creeps into his ears and makes him jump, every silent footfall he takes and sound of his heartbeat dulled just by merit of the state he's in. It's like he appears out of nowhere, fading into existence the second he stepped across the threshold into Derek's home, even the crinkling of the paper bag in his hand seemingly deadened by his presence.
But Derek's still relieved to see him, fucked up though he might be right now. Derek's pulse finds its regular rhythm again as he drifts to the counter to start unpacking food, keeping a worried eye on Tate as he takes in the sight of him. This is a lot like the Tate Derek first knew two years ago - silent and shadowed, vacant and unsettling. The kind of kid Derek tried to teach control to through blood and red eyes, as woeful of a mistake as that might have been. Derek doesn't like it. ]
... You hungry, or is this just for me?
[ The last thing Tate looks is hungry. Derek starts pulling out chinese from the bag, setting each disposable tub of tupperware next to one another before peeling off plastic lids. His cats - both of them - seem to have smelled the chicken in the air, because Windex has jumped onto the counter to get a better look while Trisk sits patiently at Derek's feet. Neither of them seem to give a fuck that Tate is clearly recently dead. ]
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But Derek's still relieved to see him, fucked up though he might be right now. Derek's pulse finds its regular rhythm again as he drifts to the counter to start unpacking food, keeping a worried eye on Tate as he takes in the sight of him. This is a lot like the Tate Derek first knew two years ago - silent and shadowed, vacant and unsettling. The kind of kid Derek tried to teach control to through blood and red eyes, as woeful of a mistake as that might have been. Derek doesn't like it. ]
... You hungry, or is this just for me?
[ The last thing Tate looks is hungry. Derek starts pulling out chinese from the bag, setting each disposable tub of tupperware next to one another before peeling off plastic lids. His cats - both of them - seem to have smelled the chicken in the air, because Windex has jumped onto the counter to get a better look while Trisk sits patiently at Derek's feet. Neither of them seem to give a fuck that Tate is clearly recently dead. ]
And them.