[Derek thinks he's doing a good job of explaining it, and Tate's smile is there - but it feels like someone's putting out a cigarette against the back of his throat. Derek has no way of knowing that Tate hurts at the notion of 'What I get from him, I can't get from you, and what I get from you, I can't get from him.' because it feels like he's just there to fill the gaps between Derek and the guy he loves.

Great. It only helps to be told he's the only one invited to the Den to then think to himself besides Stiles, you mean, which invalidates the sentiment in his head. But this is fine? He nods his head, taking that quietly in stride. Still desperate to hold on to whatever he's been given.]

I get it. We're cool, man. Don't worry.

[His appetite has tucked itself away, and he offers Derek the bag of pretzels.]

I'm happy you're letting me come to the beach. I'll probably come here a lot.