[ derek admitting he might have overreacted isn't exactly an apology, but stiles interprets it as one. he still feels like he should apologize about bringing up the fort - derek didn't deserve that, and stiles is past it, over it, glad, mostly, that derek made it out okay even after being shot - but right now it feels like they're back on equal ground so stiles leaves it for later, makes himself a little mental note.
he shakes his head lightly, letting his fingers drag gently as derek pulls his arm back, murmuring mostly to himself that it doesn't sound stupid, and that at least I know I can rely on you. which stiles already knew, has already known for a while now, but the confirmation is nice.
stiles moves his knees together, the heel of one sneaker scraping quietly against wet stone as he drags his leg in closer. he breathes in deep and then just kind of holds it like he's bracing himself for something - pain and discomfort, probably -, recognizing that he's about to be picked up when derek tucks one arm behind his knees. he reaches up to hook one arm over derek's shoulder, draping it over the back of his neck, and keeps the flashlight out of both of their eyes with the other, ignoring the moderate, throbbing pain from his lower back to the very end of his spine. derek probably doesn't need the light with his super fancy werewolf eyesight, but stiles feels a little more comfortable keeping it on.
he's about to complain, though. as soon as he realizes derek isn't immediately putting him down, he opens his mouth to protest that his legs aren't broken and that he isn't a damsel and he isn't in enough distress for it to count, but derek cuts him off and he's left holding onto him with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows lifted.
being told to chill when one is already chilled has never worked in the history of - ever. stiles closes his mouth, effectively called out and, admittedly, mildly amused that derek knows him well enough to predict his behavior before it happens. he clears his throat in a totally dignified way, and resigns himself to being carried like a bride by a werewolf through a dark cave. ]
You chill preemptively.
[ good one, nailed that, sick burn. stiles cranes the flashlight back and forth, moving his hand from left to right and left again like a very slow sprinkler. he trusts derek's eyesight and his reflexes, so it's mostly out of curiosity that he points the light anywhere and everywhere, looking for anything of interest he may have missed in the duller light from his phone screen on the way in. ]
So there's a hot spring, like - way back there. Which is kind of cool, except there's no light? I mean there were some candle stubs around the edges, but what's that gonna do? Something about swimming around in black water really - [ his shoulders vibrate with a quick shiver ] - really creeps me out.
no subject
he shakes his head lightly, letting his fingers drag gently as derek pulls his arm back, murmuring mostly to himself that it doesn't sound stupid, and that at least I know I can rely on you. which stiles already knew, has already known for a while now, but the confirmation is nice.
stiles moves his knees together, the heel of one sneaker scraping quietly against wet stone as he drags his leg in closer. he breathes in deep and then just kind of holds it like he's bracing himself for something - pain and discomfort, probably -, recognizing that he's about to be picked up when derek tucks one arm behind his knees. he reaches up to hook one arm over derek's shoulder, draping it over the back of his neck, and keeps the flashlight out of both of their eyes with the other, ignoring the moderate, throbbing pain from his lower back to the very end of his spine. derek probably doesn't need the light with his super fancy werewolf eyesight, but stiles feels a little more comfortable keeping it on.
he's about to complain, though. as soon as he realizes derek isn't immediately putting him down, he opens his mouth to protest that his legs aren't broken and that he isn't a damsel and he isn't in enough distress for it to count, but derek cuts him off and he's left holding onto him with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows lifted.
being told to chill when one is already chilled has never worked in the history of - ever. stiles closes his mouth, effectively called out and, admittedly, mildly amused that derek knows him well enough to predict his behavior before it happens. he clears his throat in a totally dignified way, and resigns himself to being carried like a bride by a werewolf through a dark cave. ]
You chill preemptively.
[ good one, nailed that, sick burn. stiles cranes the flashlight back and forth, moving his hand from left to right and left again like a very slow sprinkler. he trusts derek's eyesight and his reflexes, so it's mostly out of curiosity that he points the light anywhere and everywhere, looking for anything of interest he may have missed in the duller light from his phone screen on the way in. ]
So there's a hot spring, like - way back there. Which is kind of cool, except there's no light? I mean there were some candle stubs around the edges, but what's that gonna do? Something about swimming around in black water really - [ his shoulders vibrate with a quick shiver ] - really creeps me out.