[ derek's eyes follow tate's hand as it drifts down, briefly wondering what he'll do if tate's fingers thread through his hair or rest on his shoulder. he doesn't have to wonder for long - tate's fingers slip into his pocket and grope around like they're looking for something, and derek might realize that that something's missing before even tate does. his eyes flick back up to meet tate's, reading into him. reading into this.
"don't apologize". that's not what he expected. "you don't want to fuck" - quiet and open, not at all angry. that's another response he hadn't expected. tate slips back against the bed, inches away from him, and derek's relieved, albeit concerned. he's... happy tate's just going to lay down, instead of storm back to the party when he realizes derek doesn't want him like that. he's worried, then. he doesn't know why tate came back with him. why he even invited him out. ]
No.
[ a pause - ]
But I could. If you were sober, and if it's what you wanted.
[ which isn't to say that he wants tate, just - that he'd be willing, if he had to be. if it was another means to an end, even if the thought makes his stomach twist and his hands sweat.
derek stands. he stands, and he waits at the end of the bed, like someone will tell him where to sit. it doesn't come, so he wanders to the window, pulling back the black-out blinds and peering out over the city. it's such a long drop, from here. the lights are distant, the people are barely there. nobody cares that their half of the city is built on the backs of subs. derek hates how the down is treated. unclean water, dirty food. filth in every corner, while people in the up are so fucking excessively comfortable.
he turns, and he leans his ass against the windowsill, heels of his palms resting on the ledge. tate's aroused, derek can smell it on him, but it doesn't do anything. doesn't mean anything. tate's so fucking high. he lowers his eyes, takes in the curve of his stomach and the long, slender stretch of his arms. if derek hadn't taken tate home tonight, would he have just - given himself to someone else? even if he were... tired?
derek takes a breath. ]
I just... I want to be so much more to you than just a quick fuck.
[ he crosses one foot over the other, ankle against ankle. he's not going to bite tate tonight - he needs to tell stiles that he's intending to do it, and he needs to know that tate wants it first - but he needs to bring it up. needs to find a way to bring it up. derek chews his bottom lip, then presses on. ]
no subject
"don't apologize". that's not what he expected. "you don't want to fuck" - quiet and open, not at all angry. that's another response he hadn't expected. tate slips back against the bed, inches away from him, and derek's relieved, albeit concerned. he's... happy tate's just going to lay down, instead of storm back to the party when he realizes derek doesn't want him like that. he's worried, then. he doesn't know why tate came back with him. why he even invited him out. ]
No.
[ a pause - ]
But I could. If you were sober, and if it's what you wanted.
[ which isn't to say that he wants tate, just - that he'd be willing, if he had to be. if it was another means to an end, even if the thought makes his stomach twist and his hands sweat.
derek stands. he stands, and he waits at the end of the bed, like someone will tell him where to sit. it doesn't come, so he wanders to the window, pulling back the black-out blinds and peering out over the city. it's such a long drop, from here. the lights are distant, the people are barely there. nobody cares that their half of the city is built on the backs of subs. derek hates how the down is treated. unclean water, dirty food. filth in every corner, while people in the up are so fucking excessively comfortable.
he turns, and he leans his ass against the windowsill, heels of his palms resting on the ledge. tate's aroused, derek can smell it on him, but it doesn't do anything. doesn't mean anything. tate's so fucking high. he lowers his eyes, takes in the curve of his stomach and the long, slender stretch of his arms. if derek hadn't taken tate home tonight, would he have just - given himself to someone else? even if he were... tired?
derek takes a breath. ]
I just... I want to be so much more to you than just a quick fuck.
[ he crosses one foot over the other, ankle against ankle. he's not going to bite tate tonight - he needs to tell stiles that he's intending to do it, and he needs to know that tate wants it first - but he needs to bring it up. needs to find a way to bring it up. derek chews his bottom lip, then presses on. ]
Why did you go to that party tonight?