[ of course derek doesn't need the chemosignals to be able to tell. stiles looks like a fucking wreck.
... no, okay, he doesn't, but. look, derek's pretty tightly coiled right now, he has been since the kidnapping; he'd already made the decision to try to do what he can to make stiles' life easier, to pay him back for the pool and the sweater and the bullet, and seeing stiles worry when he's not supposed to worry, not while derek's here, it's just - it's disappointing. he's disappointed in himself.
his stomach twists and he stands taller, arms crossed over his chest, weight centered in his heels. there's just enough of a change in his expression to show that he's expecting something way worse than what stiles is actually planning on asking him. his eyebrows are up, eyes are open, jaw is set. shouldn't have said "i'm fine", stiles. "i'm fine" never means "i'm fine". ]
That's...
[ derek's not going to just promise a quick yes or no when he might need to ask for more context, more details, for whatever this is. he's ready to say as much, but at the last second, he frowns, closes his mouth again. cuts himself off.
now that he thinks about it, stiles is coming into this conversation with the same energy he brought to the meal they had together. the one with grapes and scraps of bread, not saltines and jurassic park. there's an unspoken "don't make this more humiliating for me than it already is" caveat that derek can sense thickly in the air but doesn't know what to do with, there's a plea for derek to just trust him and help him.
and, well. derek trusts him. he hasn't said as much, but he trusts him. there's a few tense seconds of silence while derek exhales and brushes his fingers through his hair, but eventually he caves. he nods, willing to hear stiles out. ]
no subject
... no, okay, he doesn't, but. look, derek's pretty tightly coiled right now, he has been since the kidnapping; he'd already made the decision to try to do what he can to make stiles' life easier, to pay him back for the pool and the sweater and the bullet, and seeing stiles worry when he's not supposed to worry, not while derek's here, it's just - it's disappointing. he's disappointed in himself.
his stomach twists and he stands taller, arms crossed over his chest, weight centered in his heels. there's just enough of a change in his expression to show that he's expecting something way worse than what stiles is actually planning on asking him. his eyebrows are up, eyes are open, jaw is set. shouldn't have said "i'm fine", stiles. "i'm fine" never means "i'm fine". ]
That's...
[ derek's not going to just promise a quick yes or no when he might need to ask for more context, more details, for whatever this is. he's ready to say as much, but at the last second, he frowns, closes his mouth again. cuts himself off.
now that he thinks about it, stiles is coming into this conversation with the same energy he brought to the meal they had together. the one with grapes and scraps of bread, not saltines and jurassic park. there's an unspoken "don't make this more humiliating for me than it already is" caveat that derek can sense thickly in the air but doesn't know what to do with, there's a plea for derek to just trust him and help him.
and, well. derek trusts him. he hasn't said as much, but he trusts him. there's a few tense seconds of silence while derek exhales and brushes his fingers through his hair, but eventually he caves. he nods, willing to hear stiles out. ]
Okay. Okay, go on. Ask.