[ derek just needs to keep putting one foot in front of the other, eyes open and unblinking and staring dead ahead. he watches for other partygoers, he watches for other subs, and he watches for other doms. anyone that could interrupt them and distract tate and take him back home. ]

Don't worry. We can go back to the party later.

[ to get tate's shirt, he means. that's a lie, and the guilt that hits him is small and sharp, like a spider bite. tate stops and lets go of his sleeve and derek wants to shake him, because they're so close to the elevator, and if he just gets tate into the up things should start getting better. they'd be in the home stretch.

but tate scratches his arms, and derek winces, nausea rising to his throat again. he needs to help tate. he needs to help tate, he needs to lie, he needs to give him the bite so getting high won't work anymore, he needs - a pack. they both do. ]

You forgot your shirt. Remember? You just told me.

[ he reaches out, sets his hand on tate's shoulder, and he thinks of erica, and isaac, and boyd. he thinks of how he looked them in the eye and spoke to them like they were the only people in the world that mattered, and he thinks of how the bite saved each of them. he'd be saving tate. he just needs to keep telling himself that to smother the guilt.

derek bends down a little, gets to tate's level. he makes eye contact, and he holds it, staring at tate with intensity and lowering his voice to a quiet, smooth rumble. ]

You're just cold. That's all. Do you want to wear my jacket?