[ stiles has those kinds of moments too. moments where derek says or does something relatively unremarkable to most, but to stiles, those little moments - when derek laughs unexpectedly, when he says something sarcastic or impressively witty, when he does something so human that it's strange, when he smiles, wide and unguarded and beautiful like he's smiling right now - as few and far between as they are, as they have been over the past two years for stiles, those moments stick.
as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.
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as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.