[ stiles has half the mind to argue that it's not about money, it's about - equality, or something like that. about not being allowed to buy anything on his own even when he can afford it (and he can afford a couple single-dose packets of pain killers, thank you), and having to rely on derek for... practically anything and everything. which honestly isn't necessarily a bad thing, because relying on each other is just - what they do. stiles just wants to be able to pay for the things he wants and needs with his own money, even if derek is always going to have to be the one to hand it over.
but derek also tells him that he cares about him, and that kind of chases away any desire to argue. it's not as if it's the first time derek's ever said that he cares, but it still feels good. sometimes it's just nice to hear it, to be reminded.
stiles' mouth thins out, like he wants to be kind of mad at derek, but also like he's trying to stave off a pleased little smile. he breathes out a heavy sigh, and then - immediately starts to brace himself as derek closes both of his hands around his arm, one around his wrist, and the other around his forearm. he assumes derek is about to drag his ass through the city, glad that stiles is relatively okay (obviously), but still fed up with him in general. he opens his mouth, about to stammer through a panicky protest about how he's sore and stiff and power-walking is his current enemy—
—but none of that happens. stiles exhales slowly, like derek's pulling the breath out of him too. stiles has had his pain drained once before - by scott, after stiles punched the jeep's engine in a surge of pent up anger and frustration - but that was minor in comparison. not that stiles is dying, but it's easier to cope with a sore hand than it is to cope with a heavily bruised tailbone and a sore lower back.
the pain eases gradually but steadily, the tension slowly melting out of his muscles and making him feel a little woozy and warm with relief. stiles lowers his head slightly as he exhales, his gaze drifting to where derek's hand is curled around his arm, veins dark and black as they reach and fade toward his elbow. it takes stiles a couple of moments to remember that whatever pain derek takes from him, he has to experience himself.
stiles lifts his head up. he takes in the thin sheen of sweat, the mild tension, the effort derek is putting in just - to make him feel better. stiles immediately tries to pull his arm out of derek's grip, just as derek predicted he would, but he doesn't put nearly enough strength behind the tug of his shoulder. his tone is quietly urgent. ]
Derek, wait—
[ he lifts his free hand, but he catches himself before he touches derek, unsure if another point of skin-to-skin contact would just push more of his pain into him, faster. even as his palm hovers near derek's elbow, his other hand curled into a loose fist, stiles' posture starts to improve in increments. his shoulders square up out of their minor slouch, his lower spine straightens out as he breathes in deep, his eyes on derek, ready to do whatever he can to yank his arm free if he thinks, even for a second, that derek is pushing himself too far.
stiles still feels a little unsteady by the time derek opens his eyes, his own eyes flickering over derek's face, his expression a mix of quiet concern and mild affection, but most of all, gratitude. he feels - good. he feels better, and it's a weird feeling, just like it was weird when scott took the throbbing pain from his hand.
derek looks soft and lazy though, and he's quiet, and stiles feels a little guilty, both for scaring derek (enough that derek has mentioned it multiple times) and for being the reason he looks as worn out as he does now. stiles lets his hand settle at derek's elbow finally, cupping his hand around the back of it and letting his palm rub slowly up the back of his bicep and then back down. ]
Sorry, big guy. I just... wanted to check it out. Didn't really think it through. [ he squeezes just above derek's elbow before letting go, his voice still on the quieter side, but trying to sound a little brighter, attempting to reassure him. ] I'm okay, though. ... Thank you.
[ even though he lets derek go, stiles' hands kind of hover for a couple moments longer as derek starts to rifle around in his pocket for something. at first, stiles thinks derek's looking for his phone, but before stiles can drop his hands so he can slide it out of his pocket to give it to him, derek presses a single-dose packet of ibuprofen into his palm.
stiles blinks at it once, twice, uncurling his fingers from around the little foil square. when he'd asked about pain killers, stiles had assumed they'd just swing by the nearest convenience store on the way home to pick something up. but not only did derek show up without hesitation when stiles said he needed him, but he showed up with what stiles asked for, presumably to minimize the amount of time stiles would have to be in pain if it weren't for derek's neat little trick.
stiles glances up from the pills and pockets them as he looks at derek. the corners of his mouth pull a little, his smile faint at first. he steps forward and twists slightly and, as casually as he can manage, he slides one arm around derek's back and lifts derek's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. he doesn't make derek lean into him, doesn't assume or imply derek needs him for support at all, but he's there all the same, just in case. stiles starts to lead them away from the caves and back toward the center of the down, his pace slow and easy. ]
You wanna take the train or the elevator? Elevator might be faster if we catch it at the right time, but - you can sit down on the train.
no subject
but derek also tells him that he cares about him, and that kind of chases away any desire to argue. it's not as if it's the first time derek's ever said that he cares, but it still feels good. sometimes it's just nice to hear it, to be reminded.
stiles' mouth thins out, like he wants to be kind of mad at derek, but also like he's trying to stave off a pleased little smile. he breathes out a heavy sigh, and then - immediately starts to brace himself as derek closes both of his hands around his arm, one around his wrist, and the other around his forearm. he assumes derek is about to drag his ass through the city, glad that stiles is relatively okay (obviously), but still fed up with him in general. he opens his mouth, about to stammer through a panicky protest about how he's sore and stiff and power-walking is his current enemy—
—but none of that happens. stiles exhales slowly, like derek's pulling the breath out of him too. stiles has had his pain drained once before - by scott, after stiles punched the jeep's engine in a surge of pent up anger and frustration - but that was minor in comparison. not that stiles is dying, but it's easier to cope with a sore hand than it is to cope with a heavily bruised tailbone and a sore lower back.
the pain eases gradually but steadily, the tension slowly melting out of his muscles and making him feel a little woozy and warm with relief. stiles lowers his head slightly as he exhales, his gaze drifting to where derek's hand is curled around his arm, veins dark and black as they reach and fade toward his elbow. it takes stiles a couple of moments to remember that whatever pain derek takes from him, he has to experience himself.
stiles lifts his head up. he takes in the thin sheen of sweat, the mild tension, the effort derek is putting in just - to make him feel better. stiles immediately tries to pull his arm out of derek's grip, just as derek predicted he would, but he doesn't put nearly enough strength behind the tug of his shoulder. his tone is quietly urgent. ]
Derek, wait—
[ he lifts his free hand, but he catches himself before he touches derek, unsure if another point of skin-to-skin contact would just push more of his pain into him, faster. even as his palm hovers near derek's elbow, his other hand curled into a loose fist, stiles' posture starts to improve in increments. his shoulders square up out of their minor slouch, his lower spine straightens out as he breathes in deep, his eyes on derek, ready to do whatever he can to yank his arm free if he thinks, even for a second, that derek is pushing himself too far.
stiles still feels a little unsteady by the time derek opens his eyes, his own eyes flickering over derek's face, his expression a mix of quiet concern and mild affection, but most of all, gratitude. he feels - good. he feels better, and it's a weird feeling, just like it was weird when scott took the throbbing pain from his hand.
derek looks soft and lazy though, and he's quiet, and stiles feels a little guilty, both for scaring derek (enough that derek has mentioned it multiple times) and for being the reason he looks as worn out as he does now. stiles lets his hand settle at derek's elbow finally, cupping his hand around the back of it and letting his palm rub slowly up the back of his bicep and then back down. ]
Sorry, big guy. I just... wanted to check it out. Didn't really think it through. [ he squeezes just above derek's elbow before letting go, his voice still on the quieter side, but trying to sound a little brighter, attempting to reassure him. ] I'm okay, though. ... Thank you.
[ even though he lets derek go, stiles' hands kind of hover for a couple moments longer as derek starts to rifle around in his pocket for something. at first, stiles thinks derek's looking for his phone, but before stiles can drop his hands so he can slide it out of his pocket to give it to him, derek presses a single-dose packet of ibuprofen into his palm.
stiles blinks at it once, twice, uncurling his fingers from around the little foil square. when he'd asked about pain killers, stiles had assumed they'd just swing by the nearest convenience store on the way home to pick something up. but not only did derek show up without hesitation when stiles said he needed him, but he showed up with what stiles asked for, presumably to minimize the amount of time stiles would have to be in pain if it weren't for derek's neat little trick.
stiles glances up from the pills and pockets them as he looks at derek. the corners of his mouth pull a little, his smile faint at first. he steps forward and twists slightly and, as casually as he can manage, he slides one arm around derek's back and lifts derek's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. he doesn't make derek lean into him, doesn't assume or imply derek needs him for support at all, but he's there all the same, just in case. stiles starts to lead them away from the caves and back toward the center of the down, his pace slow and easy. ]
You wanna take the train or the elevator? Elevator might be faster if we catch it at the right time, but - you can sit down on the train.