[ again, derek is supportive. derek backs up stiles' mostly-baseless theories without question and it's just - strange. it's a strange feeling to be blindly supported by anyone who's not his father (and even then, sometimes the sheriff isn't quick to jump on stiles' side, but the history there is different), and it strikes him so deeply that all he can do for a few long seconds is look at derek. he stares at the side of his face, not necessarily wide-eyed, but just... quietly awed, his eyebrows gently drawn toward one another, the tips of his fingers flexing lightly against the muscle of derek's shoulder.
maybe scott's betrayal is still too fresh for stiles. it's been months, between home and here, and he and scott made up - but it was never going to be that easy to let it go, not for stiles. not when he'd tried time and time again to warn his friends that things weren't adding up, not when he'd provided actual evidence to back up his suspicions. not when he was right, and still almost lost everything and everyone anyway. scott had believed theo over stiles, hadn't even stopped to ask him what had really happened. theo told scott he was a murderer, and scott believed him without question despite everything stiles had tried to make them see. took the word of a stranger, and basically kicked stiles out of the pack for it.
stiles says one thing, makes a bunch of small observances, says he feels weird about it - and derek believes him. derek trusts him, acknowledges that he's not just full of shit all the time. stiles kind of wants to kiss him for it - just on the cheek, something quick, but he fights the impulse and just silently reminds himself that he's very, very lucky.
stiles curls his fingers tight around derek's phone and maneuvers his other arm around derek's shoulders at his warning, light pointed outward behind him. he tenses a little in anticipation of some greater pain, but it's not so bad on the other side of derek's short hop. he knows that he shouldn't, but something compels him to turn his head to look back over derek's shoulder, still shining the light somewhere from behind derek's neck.
there's nothing there but heavy darkness blurring the edges of the light, and that same, nagging feeling of something more. something that isn't right about the candles, about the lack of anything else. maybe he should have gone deeper.
maybe derek wouldn't have been able to find him, if he had.
stiles breathes a little easier once they're out of the cave, feeling a lot less claustrophobic now that they're out in the open. or, as open as being in the down can get. he unwinds one of his arms so he can swipe his thumb up from the bottom of the screen to turn off the light on derek's phone now that it isn't necessary for either of them. after a beat, he taps another icon, then holds the phone up, and he snaps a photo of the mouth of the cave. just in case.
it takes him a couple of seconds to realize derek hasn't put him down yet. which is actually kind of fine, if he's honest, because he's kind of dreading standing up and walking, but at the same time, he doesn't really want to be seen being carried across the down and through the up, like some kind of helpless loser. like — like a submissive, who is only allowed to go where his dominant takes him. which is dumb, because that's probably not even what it would look like. people probably wouldn't even care.
stiles clears his throat. he lightly touches the edge of derek's phone to his own chin and raises his eyebrows a little, wetting his lips before pressing them together. ]
Derek, [ he starts. calm, casual, nonchalant. he taps the phone against his chin twice, kicks one of his feet lazily, and then quickly stops that because it pulls at some sore muscles. ] You can put me down. You said you'd put me down. Outside. Which we are. Currently.
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maybe scott's betrayal is still too fresh for stiles. it's been months, between home and here, and he and scott made up - but it was never going to be that easy to let it go, not for stiles. not when he'd tried time and time again to warn his friends that things weren't adding up, not when he'd provided actual evidence to back up his suspicions. not when he was right, and still almost lost everything and everyone anyway. scott had believed theo over stiles, hadn't even stopped to ask him what had really happened. theo told scott he was a murderer, and scott believed him without question despite everything stiles had tried to make them see. took the word of a stranger, and basically kicked stiles out of the pack for it.
stiles says one thing, makes a bunch of small observances, says he feels weird about it - and derek believes him. derek trusts him, acknowledges that he's not just full of shit all the time. stiles kind of wants to kiss him for it - just on the cheek, something quick, but he fights the impulse and just silently reminds himself that he's very, very lucky.
stiles curls his fingers tight around derek's phone and maneuvers his other arm around derek's shoulders at his warning, light pointed outward behind him. he tenses a little in anticipation of some greater pain, but it's not so bad on the other side of derek's short hop. he knows that he shouldn't, but something compels him to turn his head to look back over derek's shoulder, still shining the light somewhere from behind derek's neck.
there's nothing there but heavy darkness blurring the edges of the light, and that same, nagging feeling of something more. something that isn't right about the candles, about the lack of anything else. maybe he should have gone deeper.
maybe derek wouldn't have been able to find him, if he had.
stiles breathes a little easier once they're out of the cave, feeling a lot less claustrophobic now that they're out in the open. or, as open as being in the down can get. he unwinds one of his arms so he can swipe his thumb up from the bottom of the screen to turn off the light on derek's phone now that it isn't necessary for either of them. after a beat, he taps another icon, then holds the phone up, and he snaps a photo of the mouth of the cave. just in case.
it takes him a couple of seconds to realize derek hasn't put him down yet. which is actually kind of fine, if he's honest, because he's kind of dreading standing up and walking, but at the same time, he doesn't really want to be seen being carried across the down and through the up, like some kind of helpless loser. like — like a submissive, who is only allowed to go where his dominant takes him. which is dumb, because that's probably not even what it would look like. people probably wouldn't even care.
stiles clears his throat. he lightly touches the edge of derek's phone to his own chin and raises his eyebrows a little, wetting his lips before pressing them together. ]
Derek, [ he starts. calm, casual, nonchalant. he taps the phone against his chin twice, kicks one of his feet lazily, and then quickly stops that because it pulls at some sore muscles. ] You can put me down. You said you'd put me down. Outside. Which we are. Currently.