[ stiles knows he's being stared at. he knows it because he can feel it and he very pointedly does not look at derek, focusing instead of the spread of the board in front of him. focusing, instead, on keeping his heartbeat steady and his breathing even and the tiny thrill of anxiety at bay that he can feel starting to tickle at the back of his neck. because derek is staring at him and stiles isn't stupid. he knows why.
his skin feels warm, so he drags both of his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows. that little flash of arousal is mostly gone already, but he still takes a couple seconds to think about unattractive things. cold french fries, sunburns, sticking his fingers his derek's open wound to fish out a bullet. stiles shudders a little, pulls a tiny face as he blinks back into the present. he feels briefly queasy, but chases the feeling away with a slow, deep breath.
stiles still hasn't looked at derek, but his gaze lifts at the sound of his voice. he pulls another face, this one a little doubtful, and tries to cover it up by taking a long sip from his drink. stiles wishes derek was right. he wishes that there was nowhere for him to go but up, but stiles knows better. there's no sense in opening up that can of worms, though, not when things feel - okay. and maybe that's selfish, to want to keep this comfortable feeling that they've got going, to want to enjoy derek's company, to not want to hurt him, at least not yet. stiles will beat himself up over it later.
stiles reaches for another slice of pizza, folding this one in half this time. he watches derek take his turn, following the movement of his hand as he places his rook down. hmm. okay. a little forward, but he can work with it. stiles doesn't feel even remotely threatened yet even with his pawn in jeopardy, hands hovering over the pizza box with his attention drawn to the game. he plays out a couple moves in his head, plays out a couple more as he takes a bite of his slice, and then finds his attention pulled to derek as he continues.
it's honestly the last thing stiles expects to hear from derek - that he'll save allison. that he'll try, at the very least. allison's an argent. allison will hurt derek and his pack, and scott will hurt derek because of allison, and derek doesn't know any of that. but he doesn't ask, either, and that says - a lot. stiles doesn't want to assume that derek would put aside his animosity for all things argent for stiles, because derek barely knows him in his own timeline, but.
something in stiles' chest tightens slightly and he has to swallow to dislodge the breath stuck in his lungs. you did everything right. he did everything right. even if he couldn't bring himself to tell allison about her life and how its cut short - he still told someone, and that someone can still save her. he still gave her a chance. stiles' nose burns a little. he has to avert his eyes for a moment as he feels them prick with heat, but he doesn't cry. his eyes remain dry.
he does smile, though, small and faint and private. it feels good to not feel so guilty. he nods slightly, forcing himself to look at derek, but derek's looking away from him, so stiles just looks at the side of his face. the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the line of his neck.
thank you, he wants to tell him, but his tongue feels stuck and derek spares him anyway, posing him more questions. stiles makes a curious, thoughtful sound, shifting his attention back to the game. he reaches out, fingers touching a bishop for a moment before he seems to change his mind, moving a knight instead. ]
I mean - definitely that. Like, definitely less hitting and less bleeding. In general. Anywhere. [ his fingers linger on the knight on purpose, almost like he's doubtful of finalizing the move, but he isn't. he's confident in the play. stiles licks at his top lip, then takes his hand off, setting his slice of pizza down afterward. ] But - and don't let this go to your head - but I think you'd already kind of won me over. I didn't understand you for a while, but once I stopped to listen to more than just Scott— once I started paying attention...
[ stiles shrugs, scratching between his eyebrows with his thumb nail. ]
I dunno. Talk to me more? Tell me things. I get that you were trying to like - protect yourself, and that me and Scott kind of stuck our noses in places where we didn't really belong, and Scott was just - willingly blind and deaf and love-struck, but. I mean, I figured out that Scott was a werewolf before Scott even figured it out. And I wasn't scared, you know? Like, everything pointed to my best friend being this mythical, mystical, dangerous creature, and it should have scared me, but all I wanted to do was - be there, I guess. Help him.
[ stiles shrugs again, lightly thumping the side of his loose fist against the edge of the table as he looks at derek. ]
I think I would have been pretty open to listening to you and like - being there. Too. For you. If you had just - pulled me aside, away from Scott, and just... talked to me. We're a lot better when we talk.
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his skin feels warm, so he drags both of his hoodie sleeves up to his elbows. that little flash of arousal is mostly gone already, but he still takes a couple seconds to think about unattractive things. cold french fries, sunburns, sticking his fingers his derek's open wound to fish out a bullet. stiles shudders a little, pulls a tiny face as he blinks back into the present. he feels briefly queasy, but chases the feeling away with a slow, deep breath.
stiles still hasn't looked at derek, but his gaze lifts at the sound of his voice. he pulls another face, this one a little doubtful, and tries to cover it up by taking a long sip from his drink. stiles wishes derek was right. he wishes that there was nowhere for him to go but up, but stiles knows better. there's no sense in opening up that can of worms, though, not when things feel - okay. and maybe that's selfish, to want to keep this comfortable feeling that they've got going, to want to enjoy derek's company, to not want to hurt him, at least not yet. stiles will beat himself up over it later.
stiles reaches for another slice of pizza, folding this one in half this time. he watches derek take his turn, following the movement of his hand as he places his rook down. hmm. okay. a little forward, but he can work with it. stiles doesn't feel even remotely threatened yet even with his pawn in jeopardy, hands hovering over the pizza box with his attention drawn to the game. he plays out a couple moves in his head, plays out a couple more as he takes a bite of his slice, and then finds his attention pulled to derek as he continues.
it's honestly the last thing stiles expects to hear from derek - that he'll save allison. that he'll try, at the very least. allison's an argent. allison will hurt derek and his pack, and scott will hurt derek because of allison, and derek doesn't know any of that. but he doesn't ask, either, and that says - a lot. stiles doesn't want to assume that derek would put aside his animosity for all things argent for stiles, because derek barely knows him in his own timeline, but.
something in stiles' chest tightens slightly and he has to swallow to dislodge the breath stuck in his lungs. you did everything right. he did everything right. even if he couldn't bring himself to tell allison about her life and how its cut short - he still told someone, and that someone can still save her. he still gave her a chance. stiles' nose burns a little. he has to avert his eyes for a moment as he feels them prick with heat, but he doesn't cry. his eyes remain dry.
he does smile, though, small and faint and private. it feels good to not feel so guilty. he nods slightly, forcing himself to look at derek, but derek's looking away from him, so stiles just looks at the side of his face. the slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the line of his neck.
thank you, he wants to tell him, but his tongue feels stuck and derek spares him anyway, posing him more questions. stiles makes a curious, thoughtful sound, shifting his attention back to the game. he reaches out, fingers touching a bishop for a moment before he seems to change his mind, moving a knight instead. ]
I mean - definitely that. Like, definitely less hitting and less bleeding. In general. Anywhere. [ his fingers linger on the knight on purpose, almost like he's doubtful of finalizing the move, but he isn't. he's confident in the play. stiles licks at his top lip, then takes his hand off, setting his slice of pizza down afterward. ] But - and don't let this go to your head - but I think you'd already kind of won me over. I didn't understand you for a while, but once I stopped to listen to more than just Scott— once I started paying attention...
[ stiles shrugs, scratching between his eyebrows with his thumb nail. ]
I dunno. Talk to me more? Tell me things. I get that you were trying to like - protect yourself, and that me and Scott kind of stuck our noses in places where we didn't really belong, and Scott was just - willingly blind and deaf and love-struck, but. I mean, I figured out that Scott was a werewolf before Scott even figured it out. And I wasn't scared, you know? Like, everything pointed to my best friend being this mythical, mystical, dangerous creature, and it should have scared me, but all I wanted to do was - be there, I guess. Help him.
[ stiles shrugs again, lightly thumping the side of his loose fist against the edge of the table as he looks at derek. ]
I think I would have been pretty open to listening to you and like - being there. Too. For you. If you had just - pulled me aside, away from Scott, and just... talked to me. We're a lot better when we talk.