[ stiles' nails aren't long enough to hurt, but they bite into derek's back and scratch light, pink marks over his skin in the struggle to hold him closer. derek doesn't mind. all he's focused on is getting stiles through this, whatever it is - when stiles breaks away from him, he panics, another sick lurch in his stomach that really makes him realize how bad he feels having ran here as fast as he did. he's scared that stiles is going to leave, but - he doesn't, and derek feels instantly relieved. he trusts him. if stiles needs space, stiles needs space.
when stiles starts counting his fingers, it's a little alarming, but derek doesn't pull his hands away or in any way resist. he just lets stiles do whatever it is he needs to do, facing his palms to the sky and distantly trying to figure out how this could possibly help stiles deal with a nightmare. he watches stiles' hands, sees the anxiety in them. he watches stiles' lips, his eyes. every part of him. derek wishes he knew what to do that could... help. make this easier, maybe.
derek just doesn't understand what stiles is doing. usually, he gets angry, when he's this deep in something he can't dissect and pin open and examine from every gory angle. right now, he's not angry. just worried. guilty and worried.
stiles starts talking. derek shakes his head the second he apologizes, just this minuscule little action to show that he doesn't need to do that. he only shakes his head harder the more this goes on, and panic leapfrogs into his throat. stiles hasn't let go of his hands, so derek holds them tighter, weaving his fingers through the gaps, locking their hands together. he's still shaking his head when he starts to talk, barely able to stop himself from interrupting stiles before he gets there. ]
At the fort - I told you I'd be careful, and then - I wasn't. I did something stupid. I'm the one who screwed up. If I hadn't tried to get the crayons, I would have tried to get something else. I wanted the excuse to rebel.
[ and that's fucked up. he knew that was fucked up the second stiles found him in handcuffs. it registered how short-sighted and selfish he'd been like a sledgehammer to the teeth. the guards treated him like a criminal, and he roped stiles into that. how can stiles possibly blame himself? derek did this to him. derek always does this to people. this is his fault. it's always his fault.
derek needs to do more than hold stiles' hands. he takes a few steps forward, and there's not a huge height difference between them, but he still leans down when he touches his forehead to stiles'. he feels stiles' breath against his lips, the jut of his nose against his own, and he closes his eyes, feeling like he's close to panicking again. he relinquishes stiles' hands, solely because he needs his arms to bring back that hug. draping his arms around stiles - one over his shoulders, the other curled behind his lower back - he pulls stiles flush against him, skin to shirt.
he put stiles through this, he gave stiles this dream. if he had any sense, he'd stop talking. instead, he drops his voice to a whisper, and he pulls stiles even closer to his body. it's instinct, that has him tilting his head away, craning it down towards stiles' neck. when he kisses the side of his throat, it's this thoughtless display of affection, a way to comfort, more than anything else. his stubble is getting longer, and he needs to shave again, and it grazes roughly over stiles' skin, but his lips and the delicate swipe from the tip of his tongue are still as soft as ever. the kiss is short and brief and doesn't last, and then derek is almost nuzzling into stiles, pressing against him talking into his shoulder, voice muffled. ]
Move into my apartment. Please. Just for a while. It doesn't have to be permanent, not if you don't want it to be. But just - please. Don't say no.
[ derek takes a step forward, like he's trying to climb further into stiles' lap but probably only succeeding in making stiles take a step back to stop from toppling over. derek wants to be closer. he wants to be impossibly, impossibly closer, like a big dog trying to fit inside the bed he had as a puppy. he grunts, and he pulls back, stepping away and giving stiles his space again. he still keeps one arm wrapped around stiles' waist. ]
I just want to be there to protect you. I want to be there, if you have bad dreams, and - [ a pause, because he doesn't want to make this about him when stiles is the one that's going through all of this, and he's really, really scared of looking like he only wants this as a dom, given that stiles is his sub - ]
I feel so much worse without you. You already know how much I need you. It doesn't make sense that you're always so far away from me.
no subject
when stiles starts counting his fingers, it's a little alarming, but derek doesn't pull his hands away or in any way resist. he just lets stiles do whatever it is he needs to do, facing his palms to the sky and distantly trying to figure out how this could possibly help stiles deal with a nightmare. he watches stiles' hands, sees the anxiety in them. he watches stiles' lips, his eyes. every part of him. derek wishes he knew what to do that could... help. make this easier, maybe.
derek just doesn't understand what stiles is doing. usually, he gets angry, when he's this deep in something he can't dissect and pin open and examine from every gory angle. right now, he's not angry. just worried. guilty and worried.
stiles starts talking. derek shakes his head the second he apologizes, just this minuscule little action to show that he doesn't need to do that. he only shakes his head harder the more this goes on, and panic leapfrogs into his throat. stiles hasn't let go of his hands, so derek holds them tighter, weaving his fingers through the gaps, locking their hands together. he's still shaking his head when he starts to talk, barely able to stop himself from interrupting stiles before he gets there. ]
At the fort - I told you I'd be careful, and then - I wasn't. I did something stupid. I'm the one who screwed up. If I hadn't tried to get the crayons, I would have tried to get something else. I wanted the excuse to rebel.
[ and that's fucked up. he knew that was fucked up the second stiles found him in handcuffs. it registered how short-sighted and selfish he'd been like a sledgehammer to the teeth. the guards treated him like a criminal, and he roped stiles into that. how can stiles possibly blame himself? derek did this to him. derek always does this to people. this is his fault. it's always his fault.
derek needs to do more than hold stiles' hands. he takes a few steps forward, and there's not a huge height difference between them, but he still leans down when he touches his forehead to stiles'. he feels stiles' breath against his lips, the jut of his nose against his own, and he closes his eyes, feeling like he's close to panicking again. he relinquishes stiles' hands, solely because he needs his arms to bring back that hug. draping his arms around stiles - one over his shoulders, the other curled behind his lower back - he pulls stiles flush against him, skin to shirt.
he put stiles through this, he gave stiles this dream. if he had any sense, he'd stop talking. instead, he drops his voice to a whisper, and he pulls stiles even closer to his body. it's instinct, that has him tilting his head away, craning it down towards stiles' neck. when he kisses the side of his throat, it's this thoughtless display of affection, a way to comfort, more than anything else. his stubble is getting longer, and he needs to shave again, and it grazes roughly over stiles' skin, but his lips and the delicate swipe from the tip of his tongue are still as soft as ever. the kiss is short and brief and doesn't last, and then derek is almost nuzzling into stiles, pressing against him talking into his shoulder, voice muffled. ]
Move into my apartment. Please. Just for a while. It doesn't have to be permanent, not if you don't want it to be. But just - please. Don't say no.
[ derek takes a step forward, like he's trying to climb further into stiles' lap but probably only succeeding in making stiles take a step back to stop from toppling over. derek wants to be closer. he wants to be impossibly, impossibly closer, like a big dog trying to fit inside the bed he had as a puppy. he grunts, and he pulls back, stepping away and giving stiles his space again. he still keeps one arm wrapped around stiles' waist. ]
I just want to be there to protect you. I want to be there, if you have bad dreams, and - [ a pause, because he doesn't want to make this about him when stiles is the one that's going through all of this, and he's really, really scared of looking like he only wants this as a dom, given that stiles is his sub - ]
I feel so much worse without you. You already know how much I need you. It doesn't make sense that you're always so far away from me.