[ he's not expecting the hand on his chest. he's not expecting derek to touch him at all, actually, so he startles slightly, almost inhaling a sliver of ice as he sucks in a short breath, lips still pressed around the rip of his glass. he's still got his head tilted back, so he can only really see derek through the blur of the glass in front of his face, but he decides to keep it that way, at least for now. he has no idea why derek is touching him, but he sure as shit isn't going to complain about it, or do something stupid like open his mouth and say something dumb that'll make him take his hand away.
but derek just keeps his hand there and stiles finishes his drink and wills his heartbeat to slow down to baseline, which is a lot easier to do when his body isn't trying to pump as much blood through his veins as quickly as possible, routing oxygen to where it's needed to keep up with the amount of energy he's burning, which is currently none at all.
and then derek nudges at his chest and stiles isn't exactly ready for it, so he tilts back easily, his butt sliding backwards until it hits the cushions. stiles' empty hand flies out instinctively, grabbing at derek's forearm with a wavering, somewhat panicky sound somewhere in the back of his throat, but once he realizes he's not about to fall off the edge of the planet, he lets derek go.
stiles looks like an idiot, sitting there with his body practically folded in half, calves resting on the armrest where his butt just was, sock feet sticking out. he gives his empty glass up easily, watches derek walk away for a second, and then flops back completely on the couch, stretching himself out. he throws his arms backwards, reaching them up over his head, and relishes in the pull of his muscles, the warm ache. ugh.
he's turns onto his side, about to roll himself up an off of the couch, probably to follow derek and annoy him, but turning over puts him face to face with the chess board on the table. stiles pauses, then props himself up on one elbow to get a better look, his eyebrows lifting slightly. it's a nice board, definitely more expensive than the one he has back home, definitely less used. which makes sense, because derek only bought it recently, but it's nice. stiles reaches his hand out, drags his fingertips along one edge of the board, then picks up the king piece nearest to him for no particular reason.
he huffs at derek's command just to be annoying, setting the piece back down before he forces himself to haul his ass up and off the couch. he grabs his backpack from the floor and hooks it over one shoulder, scooping his rumpled overshirt up too and draping it over his other shoulder so he can add it to his small pile of clothes he'll have to wash at a later date. stiles knows the layout of derek's apartment like the back of his hand because he spent three months living here too, some seventy or so floors below, so he doesn't have to ask where the bathroom is. ]
Don't tell me what to do! [ he's halfway down the hall when he calls back over his shoulder, his tone anything but offended because he's literally letting derek tell him what to do, even if a shower was in the plans this whole time. ] Also, I'm using your shampoo and your soap.
[ because he didn't bring any. because his building provides shampoo and conditioner and soap for everyone in the communal bathrooms, but it comes in the form of a dispenser suction cupped to the walls, refilled probably once a week. perks of being lesser.
stiles disappears into the bathroom after that though, closing the door behind him. if he has any thoughts of inviting derek to come with him, he bites a hole through his tongue to keep them to himself, dropping his bag on top of the toilet seat and leaning to turn on the water so it has time to warm up while he's peeling himself out of his sweat-damp clothes. ]
no subject
but derek just keeps his hand there and stiles finishes his drink and wills his heartbeat to slow down to baseline, which is a lot easier to do when his body isn't trying to pump as much blood through his veins as quickly as possible, routing oxygen to where it's needed to keep up with the amount of energy he's burning, which is currently none at all.
and then derek nudges at his chest and stiles isn't exactly ready for it, so he tilts back easily, his butt sliding backwards until it hits the cushions. stiles' empty hand flies out instinctively, grabbing at derek's forearm with a wavering, somewhat panicky sound somewhere in the back of his throat, but once he realizes he's not about to fall off the edge of the planet, he lets derek go.
stiles looks like an idiot, sitting there with his body practically folded in half, calves resting on the armrest where his butt just was, sock feet sticking out. he gives his empty glass up easily, watches derek walk away for a second, and then flops back completely on the couch, stretching himself out. he throws his arms backwards, reaching them up over his head, and relishes in the pull of his muscles, the warm ache. ugh.
he's turns onto his side, about to roll himself up an off of the couch, probably to follow derek and annoy him, but turning over puts him face to face with the chess board on the table. stiles pauses, then props himself up on one elbow to get a better look, his eyebrows lifting slightly. it's a nice board, definitely more expensive than the one he has back home, definitely less used. which makes sense, because derek only bought it recently, but it's nice. stiles reaches his hand out, drags his fingertips along one edge of the board, then picks up the king piece nearest to him for no particular reason.
he huffs at derek's command just to be annoying, setting the piece back down before he forces himself to haul his ass up and off the couch. he grabs his backpack from the floor and hooks it over one shoulder, scooping his rumpled overshirt up too and draping it over his other shoulder so he can add it to his small pile of clothes he'll have to wash at a later date. stiles knows the layout of derek's apartment like the back of his hand because he spent three months living here too, some seventy or so floors below, so he doesn't have to ask where the bathroom is. ]
Don't tell me what to do! [ he's halfway down the hall when he calls back over his shoulder, his tone anything but offended because he's literally letting derek tell him what to do, even if a shower was in the plans this whole time. ] Also, I'm using your shampoo and your soap.
[ because he didn't bring any. because his building provides shampoo and conditioner and soap for everyone in the communal bathrooms, but it comes in the form of a dispenser suction cupped to the walls, refilled probably once a week. perks of being lesser.
stiles disappears into the bathroom after that though, closing the door behind him. if he has any thoughts of inviting derek to come with him, he bites a hole through his tongue to keep them to himself, dropping his bag on top of the toilet seat and leaning to turn on the water so it has time to warm up while he's peeling himself out of his sweat-damp clothes. ]