[ Tate laughs, which is an unexpected relief. Derek's still largely on edge when it comes to setting Tate off; he doesn't know what joke is going to change his mood, what comment is going to upset him. Stupid mistakes that get in Tate's head always feel one wrong sentence away, and it's... trying.
But being out here by the waves seems to mellow Tate out a lot, and Derek's filing that away for training. He doesn't like his anchor, doesn't like blood. Maybe if Derek just... spends more time with him at the beach, gives him more fond memories of the sand between his toes and the salt air filling his lungs, he'll connect to it more than the concept of purifying release. This could be good.
And then - Tate calls him out. Derek drops back a little, leaning on his elbows, stretching his legs out again. ]
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But being out here by the waves seems to mellow Tate out a lot, and Derek's filing that away for training. He doesn't like his anchor, doesn't like blood. Maybe if Derek just... spends more time with him at the beach, gives him more fond memories of the sand between his toes and the salt air filling his lungs, he'll connect to it more than the concept of purifying release. This could be good.
And then - Tate calls him out. Derek drops back a little, leaning on his elbows, stretching his legs out again. ]
Why do you think I'm into twinks?
[ Like he doesn't already know. ]