[Tate reaches for his hand on reflex, fingertips grazing Derek's palm before he tentatively draws them back in a gentle swipe as his hand retracts. What's coursing through his veins still has made him docile to a degree, and more likely to lean toward agreement. He can already feel his body shifting to move forward, but one tiny thread of reluctance grounds him. He looks back to the warehouse, the wafting smell of someone's cigarette in the air.
He looks a bit lost when he glances back to Derek, pale brows knitting together. Despite himself, he steps closer, heel of his sneaker dragging on asphalt. It's then that he remembers he's holding a beer, taking a short swig as he stumbles forward.]
I thought you - I thought you came to party.
[He's already forgotten the request of getting to ferry Tate away, having latched on to the idea of Derek wanting to see him. Wanting no competition for Tate's time. The cotton in his head cushions his feelings, makes that a good thing again, something easier to want without feeling jealous and prickly.
no subject
He looks a bit lost when he glances back to Derek, pale brows knitting together. Despite himself, he steps closer, heel of his sneaker dragging on asphalt. It's then that he remembers he's holding a beer, taking a short swig as he stumbles forward.]
I thought you - I thought you came to party.
[He's already forgotten the request of getting to ferry Tate away, having latched on to the idea of Derek wanting to see him. Wanting no competition for Tate's time. The cotton in his head cushions his feelings, makes that a good thing again, something easier to want without feeling jealous and prickly.
Weakly, without any real conviction:]
I don't want to leave.