[ Okay. Pizza - he can do pizza. He can work with half-shrugs, he can work with-- with all of this. Tate is forlorn and distant and Derek's heart hurts the longer he looks at him, but he thinks, or maybe just hopes, that Tate wants to stay. He wants to stay, and he just - doesn't know how to ask.
So. Derek doesn't make it an option. He puts aside the fear of looking controlling, he puts aside the doubt that makes him wonder again and again and again if he's been nothing but bad for Tate, and he takes a stab in the dark and prays that he's doing the right thing. For once. ]
You're gonna stay the night. We're gonna get something warm in you, and then... relax, until you feel like going to sleep. Anything else can wait until tomorrow.
[ All this heartache can wait its turn. Tonight, Tate needs to rest. Derek lingers just another few seconds, feeling more and more like he's turning his back on Tate by leaving. He steels himself, hurts his teeth from biting down on them so hard, and in slow, unwilling steps, he leaves the room.
There's pizza in the fridge, like he thought there would be, and Derek doesn't have to do much other than pop it in the microwave and wait. He rests his ass against the kitchen counter, arms over his chest, as he stares at the sterile, yellow light behind the microwave door, the spinning pizza that smells like too much grease. It pings, and Derek takes it straight to the living room, leaving plates and a few drinks on the table in front of leather couches.
And then he just - waits, with a knot in his stomach, for Tate to join him. ]
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[ Okay. Pizza - he can do pizza. He can work with half-shrugs, he can work with-- with all of this. Tate is forlorn and distant and Derek's heart hurts the longer he looks at him, but he thinks, or maybe just hopes, that Tate wants to stay. He wants to stay, and he just - doesn't know how to ask.
So. Derek doesn't make it an option. He puts aside the fear of looking controlling, he puts aside the doubt that makes him wonder again and again and again if he's been nothing but bad for Tate, and he takes a stab in the dark and prays that he's doing the right thing. For once. ]
You're gonna stay the night. We're gonna get something warm in you, and then... relax, until you feel like going to sleep. Anything else can wait until tomorrow.
[ All this heartache can wait its turn. Tonight, Tate needs to rest. Derek lingers just another few seconds, feeling more and more like he's turning his back on Tate by leaving. He steels himself, hurts his teeth from biting down on them so hard, and in slow, unwilling steps, he leaves the room.
There's pizza in the fridge, like he thought there would be, and Derek doesn't have to do much other than pop it in the microwave and wait. He rests his ass against the kitchen counter, arms over his chest, as he stares at the sterile, yellow light behind the microwave door, the spinning pizza that smells like too much grease. It pings, and Derek takes it straight to the living room, leaving plates and a few drinks on the table in front of leather couches.
And then he just - waits, with a knot in his stomach, for Tate to join him. ]