[ tate busies himself with derek's jacket, and derek considers stopping to help him fit his arms through each sleeve, but - he won't, not unless tate starts looking frustrated or actively asks for the help. it's fucked up to just let him struggle with something so simple when he's this high, but it keeps him preoccupied, which should stop him from fixating on derek semi-sorta turning him down. the last thing derek needs is for tate to... fall off any edges into anger or depression or-- or something else. they're so close to the apartment, they're in the home stretch.

stiles gets namedropped and derek feels cold, but tate moves past it without acting jealous or talking about the fort. derek picks up the pace a little, scratching his thumbnail against the inner lining of his pocket. he's focused on getting home without being seen, so he's only half-listening to tate, but - ]

You don't have to find the money. I'll take you there and buy you anything you want.

[ - he means that all the same. derek looks over his shoulder, sees tate ambling behind him, a little further away than derek thought he'd be. he winces and stands still, waiting for tate to catch up. he can't rush this. ]

Tomorrow, though. You've had a big night.