[ Oh, ugh. Tate's not going to find much, but Derek should've grabbed it all back and shoved it in his jeans before handing it over. He's got his phone in there, his wallet, the keys to the den, some empty condom wrappers, maybe an old tissue and some loose change - he'll hold his hand out for Tate to hand back the shit that isn't trash, and if he doesn't, he'll just get impatient, reach his hand into his jacket's pockets and start fishing them out himself. ]
You're such a fucking snoop. Christ.
[ Derek puts his things away, slipping them into his jean pockets and rearranging his henley to fit better. God. Already regretting this. ]
But yeah. It'll be cool. Gotta match. No point, otherwise.
[ Also, thanks for calling his jacket cool. He's a little touched, even if he won't say as much. ]
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You're such a fucking snoop. Christ.
[ Derek puts his things away, slipping them into his jean pockets and rearranging his henley to fit better. God. Already regretting this. ]
But yeah. It'll be cool. Gotta match. No point, otherwise.
[ Also, thanks for calling his jacket cool. He's a little touched, even if he won't say as much. ]