[ stiles can tell derek is stalling. derek's stalling is more obvious than roscoe's stalling and roscoe stalls a lot, but it's so, so easy to read on derek. or maybe it's just easy for stiles. either way, he waits. he lets derek pretend he missed the question, but he doesn't repeat himself. instead, he inches his eyebrows up, questioningly and he presses his lips together.
and he waits. he waits until he wants to laugh, which is right about when derek's cheeks flush a darker shade of pink. his chest constricts a little with a laugh that he's fighting to keep inside, lest derek take it the wrong way and assume he's laughing at him when really he's just - happy. stiles has never really seen derek like this before, so it's strange and new and... endearing. if scott knew stiles was standing here looking at derek, endeared to him, he'd probably pop a blood vessel (but that's fine - it'd heal).
derek gestures vaguely. stiles squints his eyes slightly and he leans a little more of his weight on his bat-hand, and he has to pinch his mouth a little tighter because derek is just. he's floundering. stiles doesn't know why or where this sudden, flustery derek is coming from, but he doesn't hate it, even if derek seems to be struggling a little.
and then derek tells him to stop, and any amusement that might have been shaping his features quickly disappears because derek looks kind of mad. stiles' mouth slackens slightly, his eyebrows pinch, he kind of juts his chin forward a little, paused with his foot between the back of his knee and his ankle. his fingers flex around the bat, open, then closed again. derek gestures at him again and he makes an accusation, and stiles has the nerve to look entirely offended and partially confused. ]
Doing— I'm not even—
[ derek steps toward him though which shuts stiles up for some reason, and when derek takes his wrist and pulls him forward out of the entryway and into the apartment, he comes easily. he stumbles a little, just because he was actually, genuinely using the bat to support his weight, and he also had a foot up off the ground, but he moves when derek moves him, with very little resistance.
stiles stands close, but he softens a little, eyebrows swooping gently upward in the middle, expressing some mild concern. ]
Making - hey, making what worse on purpose? [ stiles' eyes roam over derek's face, tracing the sharp lines and soft slopes. he lifts the bat between them, hand curled around it somewhere in the middle, and he gently touches the narrow end of it to derek's chest. ] ... You okay?
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and he waits. he waits until he wants to laugh, which is right about when derek's cheeks flush a darker shade of pink. his chest constricts a little with a laugh that he's fighting to keep inside, lest derek take it the wrong way and assume he's laughing at him when really he's just - happy. stiles has never really seen derek like this before, so it's strange and new and... endearing. if scott knew stiles was standing here looking at derek, endeared to him, he'd probably pop a blood vessel (but that's fine - it'd heal).
derek gestures vaguely. stiles squints his eyes slightly and he leans a little more of his weight on his bat-hand, and he has to pinch his mouth a little tighter because derek is just. he's floundering. stiles doesn't know why or where this sudden, flustery derek is coming from, but he doesn't hate it, even if derek seems to be struggling a little.
and then derek tells him to stop, and any amusement that might have been shaping his features quickly disappears because derek looks kind of mad. stiles' mouth slackens slightly, his eyebrows pinch, he kind of juts his chin forward a little, paused with his foot between the back of his knee and his ankle. his fingers flex around the bat, open, then closed again. derek gestures at him again and he makes an accusation, and stiles has the nerve to look entirely offended and partially confused. ]
Doing— I'm not even—
[ derek steps toward him though which shuts stiles up for some reason, and when derek takes his wrist and pulls him forward out of the entryway and into the apartment, he comes easily. he stumbles a little, just because he was actually, genuinely using the bat to support his weight, and he also had a foot up off the ground, but he moves when derek moves him, with very little resistance.
stiles stands close, but he softens a little, eyebrows swooping gently upward in the middle, expressing some mild concern. ]
Making - hey, making what worse on purpose? [ stiles' eyes roam over derek's face, tracing the sharp lines and soft slopes. he lifts the bat between them, hand curled around it somewhere in the middle, and he gently touches the narrow end of it to derek's chest. ] ... You okay?