[ stiles is already walking away to put his notes up, but he hears derek's sarcastic laugh as he steps into the hallway, and he doesn't miss that stupid-ass dog comment, either. that is absolutely not what he meant, and not something stiles would imply even when he's mad - maybe when he was younger, maybe when he was trying to pick at scott, but. not now, and not toward derek. ]
That's not what I said.
[ he doesn't even stop, but he raises his voice a little just to make sure derek hears him, which probably isn't necessary at all considering derek's... a werewolf. considering he could probably hear stiles even if he whispered it from another room.
stiles disappears into the bedroom, leaving the door open on purpose so there's zero chance of it slamming and derek being able to use that to jab at stiles more than he already is. he's tempted though. he pads across the room and crouches down in front of the small safe derek purchased, just wide enough and deep enough to fit a sack of papers and whatever other smaller objects either of them decide is too valuable to leave out in the open, unattended. it's an older safe, with a manual locking mechanism instead of a digital panel to put in a code, but stiles gets it open with ease. he slides his notes in, closes the safe up, and gives the dial on the front a couple spins.
he's just coming back out of the bedroom again when derek slams his palm against the counter. it's - loud, and it echoes, and stiles stops at the mouth of the hallway, his hands lifted slightly like he might have been about to put his hands over his ears. his jaw clenches tight and his nostrils flair a little, but he doesn't move, continuing to stare at derek.
derek, who accuses stiles of having an issue with his being a fucking werewolf. jesus christ - really? stiles drops his hands and rolls his eyes and maybe that's not a great idea but this is honestly - what the hell is even happening today? stiles starts to speak up, actually slightly offended by the accusation considering the fact that stiles has been running with wolves since he was sixteen— considering he's been in love with derek since he was seventeen, which in retrospect, isn't a very long time, but it's longer than he's been in love with... anyone. derek is such an idiot, but stiles doesn't get to tell him as much because derek stops pacing and points his finger at stiles.
... at least derek doesn't go for a low blow here and use stiles' humanity against him. that's like, half a point for derek there, because stiles would have expected it after derek thought he was making a dog joke - which he wasn't. stiles stares at derek silently, slowly lifting his arms to cross them over his chest, but they only stay there for a few seconds before he moves them again, dropping one hand to his hip and rubbing the other one over the back of his neck as he looks at his boyfriend.
something is - happening here. derek's not just being a massive asshole because he feels like it, or because he's bored - or at least stiles hopes he isn't - so there's gotta be something. a catalyst, something he missed that's - getting under derek's skin enough to keep him burning at an eleven, and stiles just - needs to figure out what it is. he drags his hand up from the back of his neck, ruffling his hair at the back of his skull for a second before he drops his palm back down to his neck.
and then it clicks. it's the day of the full moon - later in the afternoon by now, but it won't be that long before the moon is high in the sky and fueling whatever creatures of the night it has a pull on. derek is... usually far more composed and put together on the full moon, or at least he has been for as long as stiles has known him, so this seems... kind of odd. but - maybe that's it. maybe it's just - different here. maybe the stresses of the city make it harder for derek to focus on keeping himself grounded.
stiles moves forward kind of suddenly, slapping his hand around one of derek's bicep and giving it a hard tug as he keeps walking, attempting to pull him back toward the living room where his laptop still is. he lets go of derek about half way there, then circles around to the other side of the coffee table, opening his computer before he sits down on the edge of the couch. ]
Sit down. Also not a dog joke.
[ he doesn't look at derek when he says it, and it sounds a little more... authoritative than he mean for it too, but it's - fine. stiles starts clicking and scrolling, opening up his trusted movies folder. hopefully soon they'll be able to afford a tv and he can cast his movies from is laptop to the television, but for now, his laptop has done wonders.
stiles tabs through the titles and picks the first non-stressful movie he can find. which turns out to be fucking babe, but whatever. he cues it up, moves his laptop back a bit and turns it slightly, and sits back. ]
no subject
That's not what I said.
[ he doesn't even stop, but he raises his voice a little just to make sure derek hears him, which probably isn't necessary at all considering derek's... a werewolf. considering he could probably hear stiles even if he whispered it from another room.
stiles disappears into the bedroom, leaving the door open on purpose so there's zero chance of it slamming and derek being able to use that to jab at stiles more than he already is. he's tempted though. he pads across the room and crouches down in front of the small safe derek purchased, just wide enough and deep enough to fit a sack of papers and whatever other smaller objects either of them decide is too valuable to leave out in the open, unattended. it's an older safe, with a manual locking mechanism instead of a digital panel to put in a code, but stiles gets it open with ease. he slides his notes in, closes the safe up, and gives the dial on the front a couple spins.
he's just coming back out of the bedroom again when derek slams his palm against the counter. it's - loud, and it echoes, and stiles stops at the mouth of the hallway, his hands lifted slightly like he might have been about to put his hands over his ears. his jaw clenches tight and his nostrils flair a little, but he doesn't move, continuing to stare at derek.
derek, who accuses stiles of having an issue with his being a fucking werewolf. jesus christ - really? stiles drops his hands and rolls his eyes and maybe that's not a great idea but this is honestly - what the hell is even happening today? stiles starts to speak up, actually slightly offended by the accusation considering the fact that stiles has been running with wolves since he was sixteen— considering he's been in love with derek since he was seventeen, which in retrospect, isn't a very long time, but it's longer than he's been in love with... anyone. derek is such an idiot, but stiles doesn't get to tell him as much because derek stops pacing and points his finger at stiles.
... at least derek doesn't go for a low blow here and use stiles' humanity against him. that's like, half a point for derek there, because stiles would have expected it after derek thought he was making a dog joke - which he wasn't. stiles stares at derek silently, slowly lifting his arms to cross them over his chest, but they only stay there for a few seconds before he moves them again, dropping one hand to his hip and rubbing the other one over the back of his neck as he looks at his boyfriend.
something is - happening here. derek's not just being a massive asshole because he feels like it, or because he's bored - or at least stiles hopes he isn't - so there's gotta be something. a catalyst, something he missed that's - getting under derek's skin enough to keep him burning at an eleven, and stiles just - needs to figure out what it is. he drags his hand up from the back of his neck, ruffling his hair at the back of his skull for a second before he drops his palm back down to his neck.
and then it clicks. it's the day of the full moon - later in the afternoon by now, but it won't be that long before the moon is high in the sky and fueling whatever creatures of the night it has a pull on. derek is... usually far more composed and put together on the full moon, or at least he has been for as long as stiles has known him, so this seems... kind of odd. but - maybe that's it. maybe it's just - different here. maybe the stresses of the city make it harder for derek to focus on keeping himself grounded.
stiles moves forward kind of suddenly, slapping his hand around one of derek's bicep and giving it a hard tug as he keeps walking, attempting to pull him back toward the living room where his laptop still is. he lets go of derek about half way there, then circles around to the other side of the coffee table, opening his computer before he sits down on the edge of the couch. ]
Sit down. Also not a dog joke.
[ he doesn't look at derek when he says it, and it sounds a little more... authoritative than he mean for it too, but it's - fine. stiles starts clicking and scrolling, opening up his trusted movies folder. hopefully soon they'll be able to afford a tv and he can cast his movies from is laptop to the television, but for now, his laptop has done wonders.
stiles tabs through the titles and picks the first non-stressful movie he can find. which turns out to be fucking babe, but whatever. he cues it up, moves his laptop back a bit and turns it slightly, and sits back. ]