[ derek separates himself from stiles, widens the gap between them a little, and stiles decides that he's not up for standing in one place anymore now that things feel like they've shifted. he starts to pace slowly, dragging one hand down his forearm to his wrist, twisting his palm over the bone there like he's wiping something away, but he's not. he can still kind of feel the phantom loop of derek's fingers there. it's not a bad thing, just - something he notices subconsciously, enough that he touches the same place without realizing, as if to check that it's just a lingering sensation and that derek doesn't still have a hold on him.
he doesn't. stiles can see both of derek's hands.
he wanders kind of aimlessly as derek speaks, just lazy passes back and forth, his shoes scraping quietly against the dusty concrete floor every time he turns on his heel or his toes to start back the other way. he's listening, his attention on derek the entire time because they're discussing something serious, even if the tone has shifted to something a little bit lighter, which stiles is a little grateful for.
there's a moment where he wants to push back against a stipulation — that if he wants anything, he needs to ask derek immediately. it's a reasonable ground rule, it makes sense, but stiles has been rebelling for months, and it's almost instinct to throw out a yeah, fuck that in the face of it. instead, he just wrinkles his nose a little, huffs a quiet, irritated sigh, and says nothing. he steps out with one foot, doesn't put it down, turns on the ball of the foot bearing his weight. paces slowly back in the other direction.
and then derek mentions keeping a room for him, and stiles slows to a stop in front of him, his body in profile, but his head turned to look at him. he turns the rest of himself around after a moment, though he seems to have nothing to say to this.
perhaps it's that derek isn't demanding he move out his shitty room in the down that strikes him, but offers a place to go if he wants it, when he wants it. stiles isn't going to pretend he actually likes where he lives, but it's nice to have that choice. it's always about having a choice, for stiles. one that isn't forced by unbalanced circumstances.
he's still standing in front of derek when he drops the blowjob bomb, and for a handful of very silent, very still seconds, stiles actually contemplates whether or not he's being serious. they are in bonertown fucksville shagcity. well, no, they're currently in a weird-ass fort that looks like its purpose used to be for fun shit and not some creepy prison version of the real world. anyway, not the point.
stiles' eyebrows tuck in a little, eyes narrowing near the edges. his mouth opens slightly, like he might say something, might not. probably gonna say something because stiles talks too much. suddenly, his expression changes entirely, morphing into something nonchalant. he lifts one of his hands, like derek did, listing off of his fingers, crosses his other arm over his chest. ]
All right. First: twinkies are actually kinda gross, but nice attempt. Second: I'm gonna leave a tooth brush at your place - don't do anything weird to it. I will kill you. [ he pauses here, extends a third finger for just a moment, and then stops counting things off so he can cross this arm over his chest as well. his eyebrows inch up, the corners of his mouth curl, one side more than the other, and he tilts his head. ] Third: ... If you want to blow me that badly, that often? I'm not gonna fight you.
[ boom, nailed that. turned that shit around. suck it. literally suck it booiiiieeee. ]
no subject
he doesn't. stiles can see both of derek's hands.
he wanders kind of aimlessly as derek speaks, just lazy passes back and forth, his shoes scraping quietly against the dusty concrete floor every time he turns on his heel or his toes to start back the other way. he's listening, his attention on derek the entire time because they're discussing something serious, even if the tone has shifted to something a little bit lighter, which stiles is a little grateful for.
there's a moment where he wants to push back against a stipulation — that if he wants anything, he needs to ask derek immediately. it's a reasonable ground rule, it makes sense, but stiles has been rebelling for months, and it's almost instinct to throw out a yeah, fuck that in the face of it. instead, he just wrinkles his nose a little, huffs a quiet, irritated sigh, and says nothing. he steps out with one foot, doesn't put it down, turns on the ball of the foot bearing his weight. paces slowly back in the other direction.
and then derek mentions keeping a room for him, and stiles slows to a stop in front of him, his body in profile, but his head turned to look at him. he turns the rest of himself around after a moment, though he seems to have nothing to say to this.
perhaps it's that derek isn't demanding he move out his shitty room in the down that strikes him, but offers a place to go if he wants it, when he wants it. stiles isn't going to pretend he actually likes where he lives, but it's nice to have that choice. it's always about having a choice, for stiles. one that isn't forced by unbalanced circumstances.
he's still standing in front of derek when he drops the blowjob bomb, and for a handful of very silent, very still seconds, stiles actually contemplates whether or not he's being serious. they are in bonertown fucksville shagcity. well, no, they're currently in a weird-ass fort that looks like its purpose used to be for fun shit and not some creepy prison version of the real world. anyway, not the point.
stiles' eyebrows tuck in a little, eyes narrowing near the edges. his mouth opens slightly, like he might say something, might not. probably gonna say something because stiles talks too much. suddenly, his expression changes entirely, morphing into something nonchalant. he lifts one of his hands, like derek did, listing off of his fingers, crosses his other arm over his chest. ]
All right. First: twinkies are actually kinda gross, but nice attempt. Second: I'm gonna leave a tooth brush at your place - don't do anything weird to it. I will kill you. [ he pauses here, extends a third finger for just a moment, and then stops counting things off so he can cross this arm over his chest as well. his eyebrows inch up, the corners of his mouth curl, one side more than the other, and he tilts his head. ] Third: ... If you want to blow me that badly, that often? I'm not gonna fight you.
[ boom, nailed that. turned that shit around. suck it. literally suck it booiiiieeee. ]