[ Derek gets promptly rejected, and he laughs, hands lazily held up by his sides. A spark of his old mood gets reignited, and he feels fond and distant as Tate shuffles into bed like a dog. Derek folds his arms across his chest and slowly drifts over, standing over Tate until he's comfortable - there are no safety rails in place yet, so he quietly measures the distance between Tate and the end of the platform, wondering briefly if he's going to roll over to his death in the middle of the night. They're far enough away from the edge for him to feel they'll be okay.
Semi-begrudgingly, he sinks down, laying next to Tate. He's not laying in the sleeping bag, or even on it, and he is a little shivery, but he's got his jacket to keep him warm. He's on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and the floor is hard and uncomfortable, but that sort of thing has never really bothered him.
Seeing Tate all chill, getting ready for bed, it's - exciting. He's looking forward to July. ]
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Semi-begrudgingly, he sinks down, laying next to Tate. He's not laying in the sleeping bag, or even on it, and he is a little shivery, but he's got his jacket to keep him warm. He's on his side, propping himself up on his elbow, and the floor is hard and uncomfortable, but that sort of thing has never really bothered him.
Seeing Tate all chill, getting ready for bed, it's - exciting. He's looking forward to July. ]
Let's just - talk about good things.
[ Instead of hunters. ]