[ Accepting acceptance is never easy, for Derek. Tate's - understanding. He's making an effort, and he's making promises, and he's being kind, and Derek doesn't really know how to deal with it. If it wasn't for Talia, drumming the fact that he's a predator, but not a killer, into his head, over and over - he probably would have argued. Called himself a monster, listed out the reasons why. Treated this like a curse, the way Scott does. But.
But he's proud of being a werewolf. Of being an Alpha. He's never not been proud, even after Paige. He doesn't want to make that point. Not when he can make another, more familiar point, instead. ]
I'm not kind. I care about Stiles, and I care about you. I don't care about anyone else.
[ That's not true - there's Scott, there's Erica, there's Isaac, there's Boyd. There's even Jackson, to an extent, if only because Derek feels a sense of responsibility over him. But none of them are here, and Derek doesn't think of them; he just finds something to target to prove Tate doesn't know what he's talking about. He argues that he's, personally, a bad person, because that's something he knows how to do, and it's something he believes, even if Stiles keeps telling him not to.
There's self-loathing in Derek's voice, hidden beneath the jagged anger, the defensive posture. He's not kind. Still - he looks at Tate, long and hard, and the lines around his eyes soften, just a little. He's ruining this. He doesn't want to ruin this. Carefully, he measures out the words he wants to say before he says them. ]
I just want us to be important to each other. I know you're hurting, and I know I can help you, so it doesn't... make sense, to keep each other at a distance.
[ Tate's hand is warm on his wrist, and Derek sighs through his nose, looking down at them. People don't touch him like this. Kindly. Emotionally. He's still not used to it. Still feels like it's been a long, long time since he hasn't felt starved of this. ]
I want to be more to you than just some guy you know. I want us to be closer than that.
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But he's proud of being a werewolf. Of being an Alpha. He's never not been proud, even after Paige. He doesn't want to make that point. Not when he can make another, more familiar point, instead. ]
I'm not kind. I care about Stiles, and I care about you. I don't care about anyone else.
[ That's not true - there's Scott, there's Erica, there's Isaac, there's Boyd. There's even Jackson, to an extent, if only because Derek feels a sense of responsibility over him. But none of them are here, and Derek doesn't think of them; he just finds something to target to prove Tate doesn't know what he's talking about. He argues that he's, personally, a bad person, because that's something he knows how to do, and it's something he believes, even if Stiles keeps telling him not to.
There's self-loathing in Derek's voice, hidden beneath the jagged anger, the defensive posture. He's not kind. Still - he looks at Tate, long and hard, and the lines around his eyes soften, just a little. He's ruining this. He doesn't want to ruin this. Carefully, he measures out the words he wants to say before he says them. ]
I just want us to be important to each other. I know you're hurting, and I know I can help you, so it doesn't... make sense, to keep each other at a distance.
[ Tate's hand is warm on his wrist, and Derek sighs through his nose, looking down at them. People don't touch him like this. Kindly. Emotionally. He's still not used to it. Still feels like it's been a long, long time since he hasn't felt starved of this. ]
I want to be more to you than just some guy you know. I want us to be closer than that.
[ He wants to be pack. ]