[ derek starts to move and stiles' first instinct is to reach out to stop him, not because he doesn't want him to leave or because he has more to add to this conversation, but. derek has stirred up a lot of shit with who knows how many of the guards in the past twenty-four hours, and they're not exactly supposed to be in this shed if the (now-broken) lock on the door is anything to go by.
if anyone should leave first, it's probably stiles. he's gotten into far less trouble since they were dumped out of the transport vans and into the fort. it's not that he's been complying, but the guards seem far less concerned about a handful of submissives refusing to eat than they do about those who resist and retaliate via more... physical methods. if there are guards around outside, stiles is far less likely to strike a chord as negative as derek probably would, and this way, stiles could at least give derek a little warning.
stiles' hand never makes contact though, because derek stops and then he's stepping back into stiles' space. his hand just hovers there for a moment, still outstretched in the direction derek just moved from. derek is... really close, and though they're practically the same height, derek's close enough that those two inches make a different and stiles actually has to look up at him. the tiny sound he makes is hard to decipher. stiles gets the vague feeling he may have messed up somewhere between telling derek to chill with the self-love and asking if he's hungry.
he's not stupid. he knows that phrasing his wants as a question is skirting around the very thing they just talked about - stiles telling derek, stiles not fucking around when he wants or needs something, but it's not as easy as just flipping a switch. maybe it should be, but it's not. stiles' gaze shift slightly, following the movement of derek's hand as he brings it up to his face, nails scraping quietly through his stubble.
okay. okay, this is only going to work if they're straight forward, and stiles is. hungry. he's really fucking hungry because the only thing he ate yesterday was a handful of grapes and some squished bread and if he doesn't tell derek he's not up for skipping breakfast this time, then he's not going to eat. which ssssucks, but.
stiles breathes in through his nose, slow and deep. he sighs, lowers his gaze just slightly so he's looking more at derek's collar bones than anything else. he nods, absently lifting one hand to drag blunt fingernails through his hair, down the back of his skull. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I could— I'm... starving.
[ there it is. stiles let's that sit there between them for a beat, and then decides that he doesn't really want to just stand there anymore so he glances up briefly, offers a tight, tense little smile, then steps away from derek and toward the door leading out of their little safe space. very carefully, he eases the door open, and that's all he does at first. he stops and he listens. waits. eases the door open a little bit more, far enough so that he can peek his head out.
they're in the clear, and stiles breathes out quietly before stepping out, keeping one hand on the door as he turns to usher derek out with a wave of his other hand. ]
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if anyone should leave first, it's probably stiles. he's gotten into far less trouble since they were dumped out of the transport vans and into the fort. it's not that he's been complying, but the guards seem far less concerned about a handful of submissives refusing to eat than they do about those who resist and retaliate via more... physical methods. if there are guards around outside, stiles is far less likely to strike a chord as negative as derek probably would, and this way, stiles could at least give derek a little warning.
stiles' hand never makes contact though, because derek stops and then he's stepping back into stiles' space. his hand just hovers there for a moment, still outstretched in the direction derek just moved from. derek is... really close, and though they're practically the same height, derek's close enough that those two inches make a different and stiles actually has to look up at him. the tiny sound he makes is hard to decipher. stiles gets the vague feeling he may have messed up somewhere between telling derek to chill with the self-love and asking if he's hungry.
he's not stupid. he knows that phrasing his wants as a question is skirting around the very thing they just talked about - stiles telling derek, stiles not fucking around when he wants or needs something, but it's not as easy as just flipping a switch. maybe it should be, but it's not. stiles' gaze shift slightly, following the movement of derek's hand as he brings it up to his face, nails scraping quietly through his stubble.
okay. okay, this is only going to work if they're straight forward, and stiles is. hungry. he's really fucking hungry because the only thing he ate yesterday was a handful of grapes and some squished bread and if he doesn't tell derek he's not up for skipping breakfast this time, then he's not going to eat. which ssssucks, but.
stiles breathes in through his nose, slow and deep. he sighs, lowers his gaze just slightly so he's looking more at derek's collar bones than anything else. he nods, absently lifting one hand to drag blunt fingernails through his hair, down the back of his skull. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I could— I'm... starving.
[ there it is. stiles let's that sit there between them for a beat, and then decides that he doesn't really want to just stand there anymore so he glances up briefly, offers a tight, tense little smile, then steps away from derek and toward the door leading out of their little safe space. very carefully, he eases the door open, and that's all he does at first. he stops and he listens. waits. eases the door open a little bit more, far enough so that he can peek his head out.
they're in the clear, and stiles breathes out quietly before stepping out, keeping one hand on the door as he turns to usher derek out with a wave of his other hand. ]
C'mon, we're good.