[Tate's brows pinch together as he regards Derek, seeing that jockism for what it is, and shaking his head ever so lightly in dismay. Truth be told he kind of likes it, even if it makes him wanna roll his eyes at the cringe factor - he thinks he'd hate the cocky teenager Derek used to be. He'd suck his dick still, probably, but at what cost? He watches Derek move by and realizes clothes aren't coming back into the equation when Derek settles down with the sleeping bag.
It takes Tate a moment but he drops his jeans next to Derek's, peeling off his sticky boxers and using them to wipe dry before picking up the sweats. He doesn't have the confidence (in the comfort of laying on lumber - not the situation,) to stay naked, so he slips them up his hips. He peels off his shirt as if to compensate, leaving the one piece of clothing that's relatively clean as far away from the rest as he can. And then he goes to kneel down, feeling like his bones are lead as he collapses next to Derek.]
Gonna tell me a bedtime story?
[He asks, looking back over his shoulder as he resumes his little spoon position - with a gap between them, just so they don't fall into a vicious cycle they can't escape. He lays his head down on his arm and closes his eyes for a beat, smelling the freshly laid out wood and - well, the scent of fresh laid wood too.]
no subject
It takes Tate a moment but he drops his jeans next to Derek's, peeling off his sticky boxers and using them to wipe dry before picking up the sweats. He doesn't have the confidence (in the comfort of laying on lumber - not the situation,) to stay naked, so he slips them up his hips. He peels off his shirt as if to compensate, leaving the one piece of clothing that's relatively clean as far away from the rest as he can. And then he goes to kneel down, feeling like his bones are lead as he collapses next to Derek.]
Gonna tell me a bedtime story?
[He asks, looking back over his shoulder as he resumes his little spoon position - with a gap between them, just so they don't fall into a vicious cycle they can't escape. He lays his head down on his arm and closes his eyes for a beat, smelling the freshly laid out wood and - well, the scent of fresh laid wood too.]