[ stiles likes to think he's gotten pretty damn good at interpreting derek. whether that means deciphering the true meaning or intent behind a handful of words, or reading his body language and wordless gestures, stiles likes to believe he understands derek well enough that if they were to be put on a team together, they'd absolutely dominate a game of charades. so long as derek is never the one having to guess, anyway.
the mixed signals are throwing him for a loop, though. derek shakes his head no, he's not okay, and stiles immediately straightens up a little, his shoulders squaring off like he's geared to handle whatever the issue here is, even if he's suddenly nervous that he's actually done something wrong. even though he's done literally nothing aside from kiss derek and stand in his apartment.
but then derek nods his head, and stiles draws in a slow breath through his nose. he tries to figure this out, wetting his lower lip, pressing the flat edges of his teeth into the flesh. his eyebrows pull together softly. derek looks pissed, but it's slightly different from his standard pissed face.
derek is okay, though. he says he's okay and that's a good place to start, even though stiles anticipates that derek has more to say. he startles slightly when derek slaps at the bat, jerking it away and lifting his other arm up in front of him like a diagonal barrier, palm open and facing out. he murmurs sharply (jesus. hey, just— okay, all right, it's), then very deliberately holds the bat behind himself, which just makes him look very gentlemanly. or like he's hiding something, which he is.
it takes him a second to refocus, tune back in. when he does, his throat and the bridge of his nose color with a faint blush, spreading out over the subtle rise of his cheekbones. he clears his throat quietly, almost a little awkwardly, but he's not uncomfortable, he's just - flattered. stiles wasn't even doing anything. stiles was literally just standing around.
he doesn't take it negatively. he doesn't quite understand why derek's so shy, but he feels a little bit emboldened, suddenly. stiles makes a show out of rolling his eyes when derek calls him annoying, like it's predictable or just - bland and unimpressive. but he's also smiling. it kind of looks a little bit like when someone has crossed the threshold beyond anger, and just dissolves into slightly maniac laughter, but stiles doesn't smell mad. he isn't angry.
stiles tilts his weight back onto his heels for a moment, then slowly rocks forward onto the balls of his feet, bat still held behind him with one hand. with his other, he reaches up and he curls his index finger under derek's chin so it lies flat, touches the pad of his thumb just under the swell of his lower lip.
he leans in, slowly, and he's still smiling, though it's softened a little. carefully, he inches his thumb up, touches derek's lip right in the middle and tugs down gently, briefly. and then he tilts himself the rest of the way in, and he kisses derek, and it's soft and gentle and brief. it's chaste, and when it's over, stiles keeps his hand where it is, he stays in close. his eyes flick between derek's eyes and his mouth.
he quotes: ]
... You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.
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the mixed signals are throwing him for a loop, though. derek shakes his head no, he's not okay, and stiles immediately straightens up a little, his shoulders squaring off like he's geared to handle whatever the issue here is, even if he's suddenly nervous that he's actually done something wrong. even though he's done literally nothing aside from kiss derek and stand in his apartment.
but then derek nods his head, and stiles draws in a slow breath through his nose. he tries to figure this out, wetting his lower lip, pressing the flat edges of his teeth into the flesh. his eyebrows pull together softly. derek looks pissed, but it's slightly different from his standard pissed face.
derek is okay, though. he says he's okay and that's a good place to start, even though stiles anticipates that derek has more to say. he startles slightly when derek slaps at the bat, jerking it away and lifting his other arm up in front of him like a diagonal barrier, palm open and facing out. he murmurs sharply (jesus. hey, just— okay, all right, it's), then very deliberately holds the bat behind himself, which just makes him look very gentlemanly. or like he's hiding something, which he is.
it takes him a second to refocus, tune back in. when he does, his throat and the bridge of his nose color with a faint blush, spreading out over the subtle rise of his cheekbones. he clears his throat quietly, almost a little awkwardly, but he's not uncomfortable, he's just - flattered. stiles wasn't even doing anything. stiles was literally just standing around.
he doesn't take it negatively. he doesn't quite understand why derek's so shy, but he feels a little bit emboldened, suddenly. stiles makes a show out of rolling his eyes when derek calls him annoying, like it's predictable or just - bland and unimpressive. but he's also smiling. it kind of looks a little bit like when someone has crossed the threshold beyond anger, and just dissolves into slightly maniac laughter, but stiles doesn't smell mad. he isn't angry.
stiles tilts his weight back onto his heels for a moment, then slowly rocks forward onto the balls of his feet, bat still held behind him with one hand. with his other, he reaches up and he curls his index finger under derek's chin so it lies flat, touches the pad of his thumb just under the swell of his lower lip.
he leans in, slowly, and he's still smiling, though it's softened a little. carefully, he inches his thumb up, touches derek's lip right in the middle and tugs down gently, briefly. and then he tilts himself the rest of the way in, and he kisses derek, and it's soft and gentle and brief. it's chaste, and when it's over, stiles keeps his hand where it is, he stays in close. his eyes flick between derek's eyes and his mouth.
he quotes: ]
... You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means.