[ there's something familiar and comforting in watching stiles pace. listlessly wandering, burning off excess energy. stiles paces when he's bored, he paces when he needs to think, and he paces when he's figuring things out, and for how much he's grown since derek's known him, stiles has so many of the same tics and habits that derek hadn't realized he'd gotten used to. this dingy little storage building that reeks of stale grass and old fuel feels more like home than anywhere else.
derek's eyes are set on stiles' arm, watching the way he touches himself, smoothing fingers over skin. for a second, he assumes the worst. he figures stiles hated the way derek found comfort in touching him, figured he felt like derek's soft but calloused hands on his wrist were a violation if his space. derek folds his arms, looks down at his feet. when he looks up again, stiles is still touching his wrist, but derek forces himself to see the moment for what it is.
it's just - a touch. the world isn't ending, stiles isn't angry with him, derek doesn't need to think that he is. they're both okay. they're better than okay, actually, because they have a plan to get through their time here. derek hates the idea of forging a contract as much as stiles does, but they're going to have each other's backs, and they're going to abuse the system however they can. they're still going to rebel, they're still going to value themselves over a society that treats them like commodities to be stripped of their agency and fucked over. they're going to survive. derek will make sure of it.
stiles came to him because he trusts him. stiles apologized for laura, and stiles has worried about him and had his back since... man, when at least 2011, for sure. it took losing his lycanthropy, meeting someone two years ahead of his timeline and being forced to follow the rules in a sexy, alternate universe to get there, but derek has the perspective now to see that stiles really isn't half as bad as he thought he was.
he's trustworthy.
stiles wrinkles his nose and, okay, even if derek is begrudgingly starting to admit to himself - and to stiles, ugh - that he likes what they have here together, there's still that knee-jerk, quickfire reaction in derek to shove him or pop his eyebrows up, to silently call him an idiot without having to use the word. getting to a point where he can pay stiles back and give him anything he needs is his primary motivation for signing a contract, and if stiles is just going to keep living in squalor and going hungry, what's the point?
but stiles' expression changes, and it's such a rapid shift into nonchalance that derek doesn't buy it for a second. he raises his eyebrows! he raises his fucking eyebrows, because it's derek, and when he doesn't believe someone and wants them to know that he doesn't believe them, his eyebrows go way the fuck up. he's not going to let stiles just smooth on over that nose-wrinkling by acting casual and making jokes. ]
I'll blow you as often as you blow me.
[ because that's equality, and equality is how they're going to fight the man. equality is the most important thing here. derek's not sure if making half-hearted jokes lampshading the innate sexual expectations hinted at around dom/sub contracts is really the best way to jump into his point, but that's what he's doing. his face is so tense and annoyed that it... maybe... doesn't... actually sound like a joke at all, actually. he looks, briefly, like he's seriously suggesting adding blowjobs to their contracts, and he's not, he's just...
he's trying to make a point. which is this: ]
You won't owe me anything by asking for it. Food, shelter. I can do and get things in this creepy fucking city that you just can't anymore, and you need to be comfortable telling me what you want.
[ he fixes stiles with A Look™, standing still and heavy, rooted to the floor. he doesn't want stiles to feel like he's being intimidated into accepting his help, but he doesn't even want this to feel like help in the first place. derek is just... metaphorically, derek is tall enough to grab things from a shelf stiles can't reach. if stiles asked him to get something down for him, he wouldn't owe derek anything, he'd just say thanks and they'd both forget about it. that's the approach derek wants to take here - he can do things, so he wants to just... do them.
derek sighs, sinking back on his heels, softening. if stiles is going to keep a tooth brush at his place, then - he shouldn't be such a hardass about everything else. the food, the hypothetical equality of their nonexistant blowjob arrangement. the thought of living with stiles at all kind of makes his insides itch, because living with his betas has felt kind of suffocating and none of them had adhd, but.
whatever, he's still committed to this. derek raises his hand, hesitates, then puts it on stiles's shoulder, lightly squeezing. he holds his grip for as long as he can before pulling his arm back, meeting stiles' eyes, refusing to look away. he lowers his voice, not because he's afraid of being overheard, but because he's afraid his anger and his attitude are making him sound like he's giving orders, and he really, really doesn't want stiles to think that's what this is. ]
We need to do what we can for each other. You and I have to be in this together.
no subject
derek's eyes are set on stiles' arm, watching the way he touches himself, smoothing fingers over skin. for a second, he assumes the worst. he figures stiles hated the way derek found comfort in touching him, figured he felt like derek's soft but calloused hands on his wrist were a violation if his space. derek folds his arms, looks down at his feet. when he looks up again, stiles is still touching his wrist, but derek forces himself to see the moment for what it is.
it's just - a touch. the world isn't ending, stiles isn't angry with him, derek doesn't need to think that he is. they're both okay. they're better than okay, actually, because they have a plan to get through their time here. derek hates the idea of forging a contract as much as stiles does, but they're going to have each other's backs, and they're going to abuse the system however they can. they're still going to rebel, they're still going to value themselves over a society that treats them like commodities to be stripped of their agency and fucked over. they're going to survive. derek will make sure of it.
stiles came to him because he trusts him. stiles apologized for laura, and stiles has worried about him and had his back since... man, when at least 2011, for sure. it took losing his lycanthropy, meeting someone two years ahead of his timeline and being forced to follow the rules in a sexy, alternate universe to get there, but derek has the perspective now to see that stiles really isn't half as bad as he thought he was.
he's trustworthy.
stiles wrinkles his nose and, okay, even if derek is begrudgingly starting to admit to himself - and to stiles, ugh - that he likes what they have here together, there's still that knee-jerk, quickfire reaction in derek to shove him or pop his eyebrows up, to silently call him an idiot without having to use the word. getting to a point where he can pay stiles back and give him anything he needs is his primary motivation for signing a contract, and if stiles is just going to keep living in squalor and going hungry, what's the point?
but stiles' expression changes, and it's such a rapid shift into nonchalance that derek doesn't buy it for a second. he raises his eyebrows! he raises his fucking eyebrows, because it's derek, and when he doesn't believe someone and wants them to know that he doesn't believe them, his eyebrows go way the fuck up. he's not going to let stiles just smooth on over that nose-wrinkling by acting casual and making jokes. ]
I'll blow you as often as you blow me.
[ because that's equality, and equality is how they're going to fight the man. equality is the most important thing here. derek's not sure if making half-hearted jokes lampshading the innate sexual expectations hinted at around dom/sub contracts is really the best way to jump into his point, but that's what he's doing. his face is so tense and annoyed that it... maybe... doesn't... actually sound like a joke at all, actually. he looks, briefly, like he's seriously suggesting adding blowjobs to their contracts, and he's not, he's just...
he's trying to make a point. which is this: ]
You won't owe me anything by asking for it. Food, shelter. I can do and get things in this creepy fucking city that you just can't anymore, and you need to be comfortable telling me what you want.
[ he fixes stiles with A Look™, standing still and heavy, rooted to the floor. he doesn't want stiles to feel like he's being intimidated into accepting his help, but he doesn't even want this to feel like help in the first place. derek is just... metaphorically, derek is tall enough to grab things from a shelf stiles can't reach. if stiles asked him to get something down for him, he wouldn't owe derek anything, he'd just say thanks and they'd both forget about it. that's the approach derek wants to take here - he can do things, so he wants to just... do them.
derek sighs, sinking back on his heels, softening. if stiles is going to keep a tooth brush at his place, then - he shouldn't be such a hardass about everything else. the food, the hypothetical equality of their nonexistant blowjob arrangement. the thought of living with stiles at all kind of makes his insides itch, because living with his betas has felt kind of suffocating and none of them had adhd, but.
whatever, he's still committed to this. derek raises his hand, hesitates, then puts it on stiles's shoulder, lightly squeezing. he holds his grip for as long as he can before pulling his arm back, meeting stiles' eyes, refusing to look away. he lowers his voice, not because he's afraid of being overheard, but because he's afraid his anger and his attitude are making him sound like he's giving orders, and he really, really doesn't want stiles to think that's what this is. ]
We need to do what we can for each other. You and I have to be in this together.