[ it strikes stiles just a second or two after knocking how embarrassing this is going to be. he just ran up like a million flights of stairs and he's slowly dying in the hallway outside of derek's door because he couldn't wait the five or ten extra minutes it would have taken in the elevator to get up to derek's apartment. he tells himself, as he struggles to slow down and even out his breathing, steady his heartbeat, that he's just - really excited about the prospect of a decent, hot shower. which he definitely, definitely needs at this point, now that he's sweated in his clothes.
god, he probably stinks. he's a clean, hygienic person, and he put on deodorant this morning and then reapplied before he left, but he probably smells like rosalind's lab - clinical and medicinal, like a combination of all the chemicals he handled. and sweat. stiles can't actually smell anything on him, but he briefly considers snatching his deodorant out of his bag for another quick swipe under his arms, though. because his sense of smell isn't anywhere close to how sharp derek's is.
but there's probably not enough time for that, and derek opening the door to stiles freshening up his armpits would probably be more embarrassing that derek finding him like... this. too warm, with jelly legs and out of breath.
stiles doesn't actually hear derek at all when he rounds the corner. he's still breathing just a little too harshly to hear anything quieter than that. it's movement in his peripherals that catches his attention. stiles impulsively pushes himself away from the wall, fully intending to try and play it cool for derek's neighbor, or whatever other sad sack decided to take the stairs. he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck, but he's still holding his overshirt, so he just looks - dumb.
and it's not derek's neighbor, it's derek. stiles drops all pretenses and sags back against the wall again, not feeling nearly embarrassed as he thought he would. he does feel a little confused, though, because derek is... on the wrong side of the door. oh, right, he was picking up food, his brain supplies, but derek isn't carrying anything, so. that can't be it.
stiles doesn't ask, though, because derek leans against the wall on the opposite side of his apartment door and stiles is very easily distracted. he kind of wants to reach over and shove his shoulder for no particular reason, but that seems like it would require more energy than he's currently willing to expend, so he doesn't.
his eyebrows lift a little. he rolls himself sideways, leans his weight into the press of his shoulder. ]
That seems smart. You're a - [ he sniffs, swipes his thumb through the thin film of sweat over his upper lip, drops is hand, ] - a burglar's best friend.
[ he says it with a fair amount of seriousness, but the edges of his eyes crinkle a little and he finds himself smiling faintly and tiredly and definitely like an entire idiot. he hums unintentionally as he breathes out, and then tilts himself forward again until he's standing in front of the door.
it's unlocked, just like derek said. not that stiles thought he was lying, but he wouldn't put it past derek to tell him one thing just to see stiles make a fool of himself struggling to open a locked door. stiles pushes his way inside, already starting to slide one of his arms free of a backpack strap. he's still too warm, and the bag is keeping his body heat trapped between his shoulders, slowing down the process of cooling off. he turns on his heel, teeters a little on his jelly legs, takes a small step sideways with one foot to keep his balance. ]
Beat the elevator, [ he says with a lazy flap of his hand back toward the hallway he's already leaving behind, offering up an explanation for why he's all gross and red-faced and generally a mess despite the fact that derek didn't ask. he frees his other arm, and then just kind of stands there with his bag in his hands because he doesn't know where to put it down. it's awkward for a second before he just decides to act like this place is his old place. it's the same exact layout, only mirrored, and just about as bare as stiles kept his before he was moved to the down.
stiles sets his bag down by the side of the couch. he lifts one foot to pull his sneaker off, quickly realizes he has absolutely zero chance of balancing on one foot with his knees still as wobbly as they are, and sits down on the arm of the couch instead, dragging his leg up so he can get at his laces. ] Where'd you go?
[ he lifts his chin at derek, eyes flitting up from his fingers for a moment. why were you in the hallway, why were you not here to open the door and scoop him up and deposit him immediately into the air conditioning and press a cold drink into his hand.
why has it taken this long for stiles to admit he's missed sharing space with derek? ]
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god, he probably stinks. he's a clean, hygienic person, and he put on deodorant this morning and then reapplied before he left, but he probably smells like rosalind's lab - clinical and medicinal, like a combination of all the chemicals he handled. and sweat. stiles can't actually smell anything on him, but he briefly considers snatching his deodorant out of his bag for another quick swipe under his arms, though. because his sense of smell isn't anywhere close to how sharp derek's is.
but there's probably not enough time for that, and derek opening the door to stiles freshening up his armpits would probably be more embarrassing that derek finding him like... this. too warm, with jelly legs and out of breath.
stiles doesn't actually hear derek at all when he rounds the corner. he's still breathing just a little too harshly to hear anything quieter than that. it's movement in his peripherals that catches his attention. stiles impulsively pushes himself away from the wall, fully intending to try and play it cool for derek's neighbor, or whatever other sad sack decided to take the stairs. he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck, but he's still holding his overshirt, so he just looks - dumb.
and it's not derek's neighbor, it's derek. stiles drops all pretenses and sags back against the wall again, not feeling nearly embarrassed as he thought he would. he does feel a little confused, though, because derek is... on the wrong side of the door. oh, right, he was picking up food, his brain supplies, but derek isn't carrying anything, so. that can't be it.
stiles doesn't ask, though, because derek leans against the wall on the opposite side of his apartment door and stiles is very easily distracted. he kind of wants to reach over and shove his shoulder for no particular reason, but that seems like it would require more energy than he's currently willing to expend, so he doesn't.
his eyebrows lift a little. he rolls himself sideways, leans his weight into the press of his shoulder. ]
That seems smart. You're a - [ he sniffs, swipes his thumb through the thin film of sweat over his upper lip, drops is hand, ] - a burglar's best friend.
[ he says it with a fair amount of seriousness, but the edges of his eyes crinkle a little and he finds himself smiling faintly and tiredly and definitely like an entire idiot. he hums unintentionally as he breathes out, and then tilts himself forward again until he's standing in front of the door.
it's unlocked, just like derek said. not that stiles thought he was lying, but he wouldn't put it past derek to tell him one thing just to see stiles make a fool of himself struggling to open a locked door. stiles pushes his way inside, already starting to slide one of his arms free of a backpack strap. he's still too warm, and the bag is keeping his body heat trapped between his shoulders, slowing down the process of cooling off. he turns on his heel, teeters a little on his jelly legs, takes a small step sideways with one foot to keep his balance. ]
Beat the elevator, [ he says with a lazy flap of his hand back toward the hallway he's already leaving behind, offering up an explanation for why he's all gross and red-faced and generally a mess despite the fact that derek didn't ask. he frees his other arm, and then just kind of stands there with his bag in his hands because he doesn't know where to put it down. it's awkward for a second before he just decides to act like this place is his old place. it's the same exact layout, only mirrored, and just about as bare as stiles kept his before he was moved to the down.
stiles sets his bag down by the side of the couch. he lifts one foot to pull his sneaker off, quickly realizes he has absolutely zero chance of balancing on one foot with his knees still as wobbly as they are, and sits down on the arm of the couch instead, dragging his leg up so he can get at his laces. ] Where'd you go?
[ he lifts his chin at derek, eyes flitting up from his fingers for a moment. why were you in the hallway, why were you not here to open the door and scoop him up and deposit him immediately into the air conditioning and press a cold drink into his hand.
why has it taken this long for stiles to admit he's missed sharing space with derek? ]