If you ever actually listened to me when I told you to do something, maybe I'd have tried harder to include you in things.
[ derek condescendingly holds out his pizza crust to stiles, punctuating each peak and valley in his sentence with it. he holds it like he's aiming a gun at stiles, eyebrows raised as he waggles the crust a little, a speck of ham dropping off and onto the floor. derek frowns, picks it up, and eats it. three second rule.
anyway. whatever. he's just trying to keep the tension light. he doesn't know if he helped, promising to save allison. he doesn't know if stiles believes him - and even if he does, derek doesn't know if stiles has faith in him to see that promise through. after all, it's no secret that derek could hardly bring himself to feel too torn up over the idea of one less argent in the world. she's only seventeen, and that might make it harder to watch her die, but derek's still going to kill her mother when he goes back home, and he's not going to feel all that bad about it. the argents are... they deserve any tragedy that comes for them. including the death of a young girl.
but. stiles cares about her. scott cares about her, too - he shouldn't, but he does. derek's own relationship with allison doesn't matter, if saving her means protecting those two from heartache. he means it, when he says he's going to keep her safe. he wants to make stiles proud, and he wants to be the guardian and the hero that he always wanted to be. the man he'll never become, but can still dream of.
plus, he felt the emotion in the room. the spike of relief, the salt behind stiles eyes that barely started to sting. that's enough for him to know he's helping, by making a vow like that. derek's going to do everything he can, to be there for stiles. to help him. they're friends. from now on, they'll always be friends.
still. stiles has a point, telling him to talk to him more back home. derek needed some time to circle back to it, chugging back some coke and pulling a face when the bubbles burn his throat, but he gets there, in the end. he puts down his soda, wipes his hands off on his shirt again, like a douchebag. he doesn't make a move just yet, even though it's his turn. he just - rests his thumb over his own knight, idly stroking its tiny horse nose like it can actually feel it. eventually, he looks at stiles, and his voice comes out surprisingly soft. ]
You... are the only human I've ever met who hasn't thought of me as a monster. I'm already realizing that, back home. Realizing it even more, here. It's like - I don't know. You're...
[ good. empathetic. kind, perfect. so many things he could say. instead, he runs his thumbnail down the dark, wooden mane of his knight, looking at the chessboard. again, he needs to stay aggressive. can't risk losing the (perceived, but ultimately non-existent) upperhand that comes from going first. derek hops his knight forward, then leans back. ]
But - even if you're openminded - there's gotta be a limit to that. If I came up to you, two years ago, and I said...
[ he leans forward again. he loaf-hands, and he stares at the space between his palms, like he's reading a map, or deciphering kind of old stone tablet found outside of a pharaoh's tomb that's proven particularly difficult to translate. ]
"This is going to sound crazy, but I was trapped in some kind of Quantum Leap-esque Twilight Zone situation with you. We were in another world, living different lives, only instead of Scott Bakula and gremlins tearing up school buses, we --" wait.
[ wait, hold on. derek loaf-hands again, swinging his arms down hard like he's trying to kickstart a TV by hitting it. the gremlin tearing up a school bus thing was the simpsons parody of the twilight episode he's thinking of. what was the original episode? a monkey on an airplane's wing, or something? derek looks up from the chessboard, looks up from his hands. he stares at stiles and realizes he's spiralling drastically off-track. whatever. he snarls a little. fucking wait, he has a point, jesus. ]
If I said - "instead of being stuck with Scott Bakula and planes-slash-automobiles, we were trapped in a sexy hellscape with nothing but each other and the ever-present thread of BDSM, or murder, or murder-BDSM," [ he drops his arms to his sides, lowers his eyebrows. ] "And - I don't know - we got through it together, and now I trust you more than anyone, and we have to be friends because we were friends back in Cum City USA, or something, and I'm kind of running out of steam here, but -"
[ but. he... looks at stiles. a little deflated. ]
It's just - you wouldn't believe me. Right? I know I wouldn't believe me.
[ talking to stiles about laura, and peter, about how responsible he feels over the kanima, over kate, over scott, over how afraid he is of the alpha pack - he doesn't even know how he'd breach all of that here, let alone at home, when he's so much more guarded and afraid of letting someone like stiles in. he has no idea how he could talk to stiles honestly and just... not bring up duplicity, but he has no idea how he'd avoid it, either. ]
no subject
[ derek condescendingly holds out his pizza crust to stiles, punctuating each peak and valley in his sentence with it. he holds it like he's aiming a gun at stiles, eyebrows raised as he waggles the crust a little, a speck of ham dropping off and onto the floor. derek frowns, picks it up, and eats it. three second rule.
anyway. whatever. he's just trying to keep the tension light. he doesn't know if he helped, promising to save allison. he doesn't know if stiles believes him - and even if he does, derek doesn't know if stiles has faith in him to see that promise through. after all, it's no secret that derek could hardly bring himself to feel too torn up over the idea of one less argent in the world. she's only seventeen, and that might make it harder to watch her die, but derek's still going to kill her mother when he goes back home, and he's not going to feel all that bad about it. the argents are... they deserve any tragedy that comes for them. including the death of a young girl.
but. stiles cares about her. scott cares about her, too - he shouldn't, but he does. derek's own relationship with allison doesn't matter, if saving her means protecting those two from heartache. he means it, when he says he's going to keep her safe. he wants to make stiles proud, and he wants to be the guardian and the hero that he always wanted to be. the man he'll never become, but can still dream of.
plus, he felt the emotion in the room. the spike of relief, the salt behind stiles eyes that barely started to sting. that's enough for him to know he's helping, by making a vow like that. derek's going to do everything he can, to be there for stiles. to help him. they're friends. from now on, they'll always be friends.
still. stiles has a point, telling him to talk to him more back home. derek needed some time to circle back to it, chugging back some coke and pulling a face when the bubbles burn his throat, but he gets there, in the end. he puts down his soda, wipes his hands off on his shirt again, like a douchebag. he doesn't make a move just yet, even though it's his turn. he just - rests his thumb over his own knight, idly stroking its tiny horse nose like it can actually feel it. eventually, he looks at stiles, and his voice comes out surprisingly soft. ]
You... are the only human I've ever met who hasn't thought of me as a monster. I'm already realizing that, back home. Realizing it even more, here. It's like - I don't know. You're...
[ good. empathetic. kind, perfect. so many things he could say. instead, he runs his thumbnail down the dark, wooden mane of his knight, looking at the chessboard. again, he needs to stay aggressive. can't risk losing the (perceived, but ultimately non-existent) upperhand that comes from going first. derek hops his knight forward, then leans back. ]
But - even if you're openminded - there's gotta be a limit to that. If I came up to you, two years ago, and I said...
[ he leans forward again. he loaf-hands, and he stares at the space between his palms, like he's reading a map, or deciphering kind of old stone tablet found outside of a pharaoh's tomb that's proven particularly difficult to translate. ]
"This is going to sound crazy, but I was trapped in some kind of Quantum Leap-esque Twilight Zone situation with you. We were in another world, living different lives, only instead of Scott Bakula and gremlins tearing up school buses, we --" wait.
[ wait, hold on. derek loaf-hands again, swinging his arms down hard like he's trying to kickstart a TV by hitting it. the gremlin tearing up a school bus thing was the simpsons parody of the twilight episode he's thinking of. what was the original episode? a monkey on an airplane's wing, or something? derek looks up from the chessboard, looks up from his hands. he stares at stiles and realizes he's spiralling drastically off-track. whatever. he snarls a little. fucking wait, he has a point, jesus. ]
If I said - "instead of being stuck with Scott Bakula and planes-slash-automobiles, we were trapped in a sexy hellscape with nothing but each other and the ever-present thread of BDSM, or murder, or murder-BDSM," [ he drops his arms to his sides, lowers his eyebrows. ] "And - I don't know - we got through it together, and now I trust you more than anyone, and we have to be friends because we were friends back in Cum City USA, or something, and I'm kind of running out of steam here, but -"
[ but. he... looks at stiles. a little deflated. ]
It's just - you wouldn't believe me. Right? I know I wouldn't believe me.
[ talking to stiles about laura, and peter, about how responsible he feels over the kanima, over kate, over scott, over how afraid he is of the alpha pack - he doesn't even know how he'd breach all of that here, let alone at home, when he's so much more guarded and afraid of letting someone like stiles in. he has no idea how he could talk to stiles honestly and just... not bring up duplicity, but he has no idea how he'd avoid it, either. ]