[ "I don't want to hear it," Tate says, and of course Derek misinterprets, of course he thinks Tate's talking about him. He's not upset, exactly, but the flutter of his eyes looks slightly hurt, and any attempt at a reassuring smile just comes out wry and distant. Still - he doesn't say anything. He just nods, leans back in his chair, and lets Tate sleep.
Morning comes, and Derek hasn't moved. His back's sore and his neck feels pulled and strained, but he's awake, if only barely. He'd slept on and off through the night, but he never left the chair facing the bed. Without a blanket, he was cold during the night, but he's had far worse nights than this.
Derek never really had the chance to nail down what happened at the party last night. Never really managed to fully express why he wanted to take care of Tate, or at least establish some kind of mutual trust with him. He brought up the fire, and he's been tossing and turning over whether or not that was something he's going to regret doing, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't think Tate's even going to remember.
Tate blearily starts to move, and Derek expects the worst. He lifts his head from his shoulder and watches Tate look sick, and he slowly drifts his eyes down, looking beneath the bedside table. He did get up just once, during the night - ]
Bucket's beside the bed.
[ - to get something for the vomit. you know, just in case. ]
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Morning comes, and Derek hasn't moved. His back's sore and his neck feels pulled and strained, but he's awake, if only barely. He'd slept on and off through the night, but he never left the chair facing the bed. Without a blanket, he was cold during the night, but he's had far worse nights than this.
Derek never really had the chance to nail down what happened at the party last night. Never really managed to fully express why he wanted to take care of Tate, or at least establish some kind of mutual trust with him. He brought up the fire, and he's been tossing and turning over whether or not that was something he's going to regret doing, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't think Tate's even going to remember.
Tate blearily starts to move, and Derek expects the worst. He lifts his head from his shoulder and watches Tate look sick, and he slowly drifts his eyes down, looking beneath the bedside table. He did get up just once, during the night - ]
Bucket's beside the bed.
[ - to get something for the vomit. you know, just in case. ]