[ stiles doesn't even look up from what he's doing when derek is - suddenly outside of the gym and questioning him about the mess on the living room floor. he leans and reaches for another page, sliding it closer to him across the floor, and then takes his hand off of it because it's not the one he needs yet, and it's right around then that derek's tone actually registers. stiles blinks and lifts his head up, a page in each of his hands, and just looks at derek with this mildly confused expression on his face.
derek looks... pissed. he almost always looks some level of pissed off, but this is a level of pissed that stiles recognizes as potentially dangerous - but he doesn't know the reason for it. sure, the living room is - kind of messy, but it's just paper, and stiles is literally in the middle of picking everything up, and derek isn't usually this upset when stiles makes a little mess. annoyed, sometimes, but never mad.
stiles tries to run through the morning and the afternoon up until this point, but he can't think of anything that might have happened that would be enough to set derek off. derek went out for about an hour, possibly to run, but stiles wasn't really paying attention. running usually makes derek feel better, though, so it's probably nothing to do with that. did he - forget to rinse the sink after brushing his teeth? did derek just not sleep well? stiles got up a little earlier than usual, just because he couldn't sleep, so maybe derek's... mad... about that. except none of that really makes any sense or justifies derek's current attitude. stiles blinks at him again, shifting the page in his left hand and joining it up with the page in his right.
and derek snaps at him. stiles doesn't necessarily flinch, but he does duck his head a little because he doesn't expect it. he feels like he's being scolded, and that - kind of pisses stiles off a little because he doesn't know what he's done other than mess up the living room a little bit, and that wasn't intentional and it's just paper and he's cleaning it up. ]
Dude, relax, I'm—
[ derek slams the door to the gym, and stiles' first reaction is to slap his hands down over the pile of notes still on the floor when the force of it - which is entirely unnecessary - sends another smaller breeze blowing through the den, fluttering the pages. he's only got two hands, though, and more than two piles, so some of them still flutter out of place anyway. he looks up from his hands and - derek is just towering over him, looking down at him as he starts to scold him about - his notes, and how they could have blown into the street (not likely, considering the breeze blew everything away from the door, and the balcony backs up into the woods, not the street) and—
stiles hates it. he hates the tone, sharp and loud and condescending, and he hates the way derek's looking down at him like he's stupid, because he's not, and he gets that his notes are sensitive - he fucking wrote them, for christ's sake, he knows exactly what's in them and what isn't -, but. derek isn't supposed to talk to him like this. derek's the one person who supposedly sees him for who he is and what he can do and all the things that make him something. and he's just standing there looking down at him like he's the biggest dumbass he's ever seen.
over some wind.
stiles clenches his teeth for a moment, forcing himself to look away from derek and back at the mess in front of him. he wants to get up, just so derek doesn't have the advantage of height over him, but he chooses to stay where he is instead, continuing to pick everything up, re-sorting everything the way he had it before the breeze - and derek's excessive use of force - blew everything out of place. ]
I was updating them. That doesn't just - happen magically, you know. Why are you slamming doors?
no subject
[ stiles doesn't even look up from what he's doing when derek is - suddenly outside of the gym and questioning him about the mess on the living room floor. he leans and reaches for another page, sliding it closer to him across the floor, and then takes his hand off of it because it's not the one he needs yet, and it's right around then that derek's tone actually registers. stiles blinks and lifts his head up, a page in each of his hands, and just looks at derek with this mildly confused expression on his face.
derek looks... pissed. he almost always looks some level of pissed off, but this is a level of pissed that stiles recognizes as potentially dangerous - but he doesn't know the reason for it. sure, the living room is - kind of messy, but it's just paper, and stiles is literally in the middle of picking everything up, and derek isn't usually this upset when stiles makes a little mess. annoyed, sometimes, but never mad.
stiles tries to run through the morning and the afternoon up until this point, but he can't think of anything that might have happened that would be enough to set derek off. derek went out for about an hour, possibly to run, but stiles wasn't really paying attention. running usually makes derek feel better, though, so it's probably nothing to do with that. did he - forget to rinse the sink after brushing his teeth? did derek just not sleep well? stiles got up a little earlier than usual, just because he couldn't sleep, so maybe derek's... mad... about that. except none of that really makes any sense or justifies derek's current attitude. stiles blinks at him again, shifting the page in his left hand and joining it up with the page in his right.
and derek snaps at him. stiles doesn't necessarily flinch, but he does duck his head a little because he doesn't expect it. he feels like he's being scolded, and that - kind of pisses stiles off a little because he doesn't know what he's done other than mess up the living room a little bit, and that wasn't intentional and it's just paper and he's cleaning it up. ]
Dude, relax, I'm—
[ derek slams the door to the gym, and stiles' first reaction is to slap his hands down over the pile of notes still on the floor when the force of it - which is entirely unnecessary - sends another smaller breeze blowing through the den, fluttering the pages. he's only got two hands, though, and more than two piles, so some of them still flutter out of place anyway. he looks up from his hands and - derek is just towering over him, looking down at him as he starts to scold him about - his notes, and how they could have blown into the street (not likely, considering the breeze blew everything away from the door, and the balcony backs up into the woods, not the street) and—
stiles hates it. he hates the tone, sharp and loud and condescending, and he hates the way derek's looking down at him like he's stupid, because he's not, and he gets that his notes are sensitive - he fucking wrote them, for christ's sake, he knows exactly what's in them and what isn't -, but. derek isn't supposed to talk to him like this. derek's the one person who supposedly sees him for who he is and what he can do and all the things that make him something. and he's just standing there looking down at him like he's the biggest dumbass he's ever seen.
over some wind.
stiles clenches his teeth for a moment, forcing himself to look away from derek and back at the mess in front of him. he wants to get up, just so derek doesn't have the advantage of height over him, but he chooses to stay where he is instead, continuing to pick everything up, re-sorting everything the way he had it before the breeze - and derek's excessive use of force - blew everything out of place. ]
I was updating them. That doesn't just - happen magically, you know. Why are you slamming doors?