[ derek doesn't exactly understand why he's so shy, either. it's just - things keep catching up to him in staggered bursts. they got each other off in the barracks and derek was overwhelmed, but it took failed try after failed try before derek felt okay with kissing stiles. they played chess and derek knew that entire time that stiles wanted more, and that derek wanted more, but it wasn't until he was at breaking point that he actually made a move.
hell, even before things started getting serious - derek knew that stiles cared about him, and he knew that he cared about stiles, but it still took frozen feet and an afternoon of sleeping to jurassic park to realize that he wanted to be friends. took even longer to admit he wanted to contract him.
this is just an extension of that. they've fucked, they've become something. not just friends, not just contracted. derek went out of his way to call stiles his boyfriend, and stiles agreed, and now that's what they are. it just - took until now, where he could see stiles standing in front of him, being fucking cute and fucking perfect and fucking obnoxious just by having that fucking stupid face that derek really... felt it.
love. he's in love. he knew it, already, but fuck, look at him. derek could get lost just looking at stiles. how the fuck did he manage to land someone who thinks so highly of him? who takes care of him and saves his life and values him and knows all these horrible things he's done, and still just - stays? when this all goes to hell, he's not going to come back from it. he can't handle another loss. he won't be able to handle this one above all others.
stiles kisses him, and derek makes a noise of quiet discontent, but there's no real emotion behind the protest. it's just an attempt at saving face, even though he has no reason to even try. time stands still and things feel better, things feel anchored, and when stiles first starts to ease away, derek leans in after him and doesn't let him go. the kiss breaks, eventually, but stiles stays close and derek needed that.
he opens his eyes, though he couldn't say when they drifted shut. he looks at stiles, feels his breath, feels this thudding bass drum bolt through his system. he swallows, and he stays, and then he goes, because even though he'd stay here all day if he could, he knows he has to lean back, eventually. ]
Okay. Enough.
[ fucking princess bride, ugh. derek's enamored. he waves his hand through the air and takes a step back, smiling far too broadly than should be allowed. he doesn't want to be one of those guys who just - obsesses, and fawns, and makes who he's dating his entire life. he could be that guy, but he's been that guy twice before, and both times made him blind to a lot of very obvious signs that he shouldn't have missed. he needs to be able to hang out with stiles without immediately wanting to tell him he loves him, immediately wanting to kiss him, immediately wanting to fuck. he needs to stop being so fucking drunk on this.
okay. okay. he shakes his hands, takes a breath, composes himself. rolls up his sleeves, which is pretty unfair, because his biceps looked big when they were covered, and now it's even worse. he wets his lips, looks at stiles, then nods, man to man. okay. composed. very composed. derek "the most composed man" hale. here we go.
derek tugs on stiles' wrist again and walks further into the apartment, and he doesn't know where to go, at first, and it's obvious by the way he frowns and looks around in thought that he doesn't have a plan here. he focuses on the couch, thinks about throwing stiles down and making him play chess again. he looks to the kitchen, thinks about lunch, decides he's not hungry. he looks to the bathroom - thinks of stiles jerking off, thinks of how easy it would have been to join him when he showered over here, thinks of how they're going to break in the new shower once they move.
but that's! not! what! he's! supposed! to be thinking about! derek tugs on stiles' wrist more insistently and pulls him into the bedroom, where the backpack he wrestled from him is resting neatly on the covers. a movie seems safe? stiles is probably sick of watching movies, but a movie seems safe.
he looks at the bag, looks at stiles. nearly says "i really just want to blow you again", but doesn't. he wets his lips, then realizes a crucial step here should have been asking if stiles wanted to hang out, rather than just dragging him along by the arm and assuming he does. he pulls him to the bed anyway, pushes him down, then starts fidgeting with the zipper of the backpack without asking if it's okay. his attempts at being considerate are maybe a little flawed. ]
There's so much I want to do with you. Talk. Fuck. More. But.
[ he finds stiles' laptop, pulls it out, then frowns as he doublechecks the bag for the power cord. it's there, but he doesn't really believe that it's the right cable until he plugs it in, flips the outlet switch and sees the light in the corner saying the laptop's being charged, just because - as much as he loves stiles - he would not have been surprised if he forgot something from the down and had to go back and get it.
elbow-dropping to the bed, the mattress bounces a little, and derek pats the space in front of him. ]
no subject
hell, even before things started getting serious - derek knew that stiles cared about him, and he knew that he cared about stiles, but it still took frozen feet and an afternoon of sleeping to jurassic park to realize that he wanted to be friends. took even longer to admit he wanted to contract him.
this is just an extension of that. they've fucked, they've become something. not just friends, not just contracted. derek went out of his way to call stiles his boyfriend, and stiles agreed, and now that's what they are. it just - took until now, where he could see stiles standing in front of him, being fucking cute and fucking perfect and fucking obnoxious just by having that fucking stupid face that derek really... felt it.
love. he's in love. he knew it, already, but fuck, look at him. derek could get lost just looking at stiles. how the fuck did he manage to land someone who thinks so highly of him? who takes care of him and saves his life and values him and knows all these horrible things he's done, and still just - stays? when this all goes to hell, he's not going to come back from it. he can't handle another loss. he won't be able to handle this one above all others.
stiles kisses him, and derek makes a noise of quiet discontent, but there's no real emotion behind the protest. it's just an attempt at saving face, even though he has no reason to even try. time stands still and things feel better, things feel anchored, and when stiles first starts to ease away, derek leans in after him and doesn't let him go. the kiss breaks, eventually, but stiles stays close and derek needed that.
he opens his eyes, though he couldn't say when they drifted shut. he looks at stiles, feels his breath, feels this thudding bass drum bolt through his system. he swallows, and he stays, and then he goes, because even though he'd stay here all day if he could, he knows he has to lean back, eventually. ]
Okay. Enough.
[ fucking princess bride, ugh. derek's enamored. he waves his hand through the air and takes a step back, smiling far too broadly than should be allowed. he doesn't want to be one of those guys who just - obsesses, and fawns, and makes who he's dating his entire life. he could be that guy, but he's been that guy twice before, and both times made him blind to a lot of very obvious signs that he shouldn't have missed. he needs to be able to hang out with stiles without immediately wanting to tell him he loves him, immediately wanting to kiss him, immediately wanting to fuck. he needs to stop being so fucking drunk on this.
okay. okay. he shakes his hands, takes a breath, composes himself. rolls up his sleeves, which is pretty unfair, because his biceps looked big when they were covered, and now it's even worse. he wets his lips, looks at stiles, then nods, man to man. okay. composed. very composed. derek "the most composed man" hale. here we go.
derek tugs on stiles' wrist again and walks further into the apartment, and he doesn't know where to go, at first, and it's obvious by the way he frowns and looks around in thought that he doesn't have a plan here. he focuses on the couch, thinks about throwing stiles down and making him play chess again. he looks to the kitchen, thinks about lunch, decides he's not hungry. he looks to the bathroom - thinks of stiles jerking off, thinks of how easy it would have been to join him when he showered over here, thinks of how they're going to break in the new shower once they move.
but that's! not! what! he's! supposed! to be thinking about! derek tugs on stiles' wrist more insistently and pulls him into the bedroom, where the backpack he wrestled from him is resting neatly on the covers. a movie seems safe? stiles is probably sick of watching movies, but a movie seems safe.
he looks at the bag, looks at stiles. nearly says "i really just want to blow you again", but doesn't. he wets his lips, then realizes a crucial step here should have been asking if stiles wanted to hang out, rather than just dragging him along by the arm and assuming he does. he pulls him to the bed anyway, pushes him down, then starts fidgeting with the zipper of the backpack without asking if it's okay. his attempts at being considerate are maybe a little flawed. ]
There's so much I want to do with you. Talk. Fuck. More. But.
[ he finds stiles' laptop, pulls it out, then frowns as he doublechecks the bag for the power cord. it's there, but he doesn't really believe that it's the right cable until he plugs it in, flips the outlet switch and sees the light in the corner saying the laptop's being charged, just because - as much as he loves stiles - he would not have been surprised if he forgot something from the down and had to go back and get it.
elbow-dropping to the bed, the mattress bounces a little, and derek pats the space in front of him. ]
Background noise is good. Pick something out.