[ stiles has been, for the most part, a lot calmer than derek in the time since derek's arrival. maybe it's because he's just-- steadier, now, than he was at sixteen, or maybe it's because he's spent months in duplicity and knows when to keep his head down better than derek does. whatever the case, he's been reliable. clearheaded when things have gone bad, a fixed point in otherwise stormy seas. an anchor, in some ways, though derek has yet to truly think of him like that.
so this is a nice change of pace. the sweat, the struggle, the imminent cardiac arrest. derek's got this sly, wolfish grin on his face as he rests against the wall, watching stiles revert to the awkward, messy teenager he's always been. as much as stiles annoys the shit out of him when he's all frantic and physically emotive and energetic, it's comforting to see that he isn't always... worried about things.
maybe that's hypocritical, maybe he's projecting, maybe he just doesn't want stiles to be as fucked up by his trauma as derek is. maybe he's just... actually sort of starting to like this side of stiles, now that he's not constantly spazzing out when derek's trying to fucking get shit done. maybe it's cute. he does think stiles is cute, after all. that's written down. he can't take that back.
stiles lifts his eyebrows, calls him a burglar's best friend. derek lifts his eyebrows back, still smiling that same shit-eating grin, but by the time they've headed inside together, he's got it under control. he steadily closes the door behind them (and locks it, this time,) as stiles wobbles in, and his eyes linger on stiles' shoulderblades for a second or two as he goes. stiles takes a seat, and derek feels sort of awkward standing at the front door, so he drifts into the kitchen area, rummaging through the fridge for the soda he bought. it's cold, at least a little bit, but he adds some ice to a glass to really sell it. feels like it's probably been a while since somebody got stiles a drink, so. yeah. he wants to do it.
he gets everything set up, puts the soda back in the fridge, then heads back over when stiles is asking his question. "where'd you go". derek's eyebrows are back up, and he holds the glass out for stiles to take, carrying it with his good arm, the one he leant against the wall with.
he could lie. it'd be easy to lie, but. he'd already decided not to. ]
Wanted to see you sooner.
[ derek shrugs, like it's an easy thing to say, even though - as it always seems to be, with stiles - he feels a little bit like he's throwing himself off of a cliff. admitting that he has feelings, like a normal person? that shit can't keep flying as easily as it has been. one of these days, it's going to bite him in the ass.
still. he's happy. he wanted those few extra seconds, those tiny, bonus moments they'd have on the few steps back to his apartment. he's not ashamed of that, exactly, even if he is daunted by the idea that stiles might react poorly. it is what it is. ]
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so this is a nice change of pace. the sweat, the struggle, the imminent cardiac arrest. derek's got this sly, wolfish grin on his face as he rests against the wall, watching stiles revert to the awkward, messy teenager he's always been. as much as stiles annoys the shit out of him when he's all frantic and physically emotive and energetic, it's comforting to see that he isn't always... worried about things.
maybe that's hypocritical, maybe he's projecting, maybe he just doesn't want stiles to be as fucked up by his trauma as derek is. maybe he's just... actually sort of starting to like this side of stiles, now that he's not constantly spazzing out when derek's trying to fucking get shit done. maybe it's cute. he does think stiles is cute, after all. that's written down. he can't take that back.
stiles lifts his eyebrows, calls him a burglar's best friend. derek lifts his eyebrows back, still smiling that same shit-eating grin, but by the time they've headed inside together, he's got it under control. he steadily closes the door behind them (and locks it, this time,) as stiles wobbles in, and his eyes linger on stiles' shoulderblades for a second or two as he goes. stiles takes a seat, and derek feels sort of awkward standing at the front door, so he drifts into the kitchen area, rummaging through the fridge for the soda he bought. it's cold, at least a little bit, but he adds some ice to a glass to really sell it. feels like it's probably been a while since somebody got stiles a drink, so. yeah. he wants to do it.
he gets everything set up, puts the soda back in the fridge, then heads back over when stiles is asking his question. "where'd you go". derek's eyebrows are back up, and he holds the glass out for stiles to take, carrying it with his good arm, the one he leant against the wall with.
he could lie. it'd be easy to lie, but. he'd already decided not to. ]
Wanted to see you sooner.
[ derek shrugs, like it's an easy thing to say, even though - as it always seems to be, with stiles - he feels a little bit like he's throwing himself off of a cliff. admitting that he has feelings, like a normal person? that shit can't keep flying as easily as it has been. one of these days, it's going to bite him in the ass.
still. he's happy. he wanted those few extra seconds, those tiny, bonus moments they'd have on the few steps back to his apartment. he's not ashamed of that, exactly, even if he is daunted by the idea that stiles might react poorly. it is what it is. ]
Why did you take the stairs?
[ he already knows. he hopes he knows. ]