[ derek admitting he might have overreacted isn't exactly an apology, but stiles interprets it as one. he still feels like he should apologize about bringing up the fort - derek didn't deserve that, and stiles is past it, over it, glad, mostly, that derek made it out okay even after being shot - but right now it feels like they're back on equal ground so stiles leaves it for later, makes himself a little mental note.
he shakes his head lightly, letting his fingers drag gently as derek pulls his arm back, murmuring mostly to himself that it doesn't sound stupid, and that at least I know I can rely on you. which stiles already knew, has already known for a while now, but the confirmation is nice.
stiles moves his knees together, the heel of one sneaker scraping quietly against wet stone as he drags his leg in closer. he breathes in deep and then just kind of holds it like he's bracing himself for something - pain and discomfort, probably -, recognizing that he's about to be picked up when derek tucks one arm behind his knees. he reaches up to hook one arm over derek's shoulder, draping it over the back of his neck, and keeps the flashlight out of both of their eyes with the other, ignoring the moderate, throbbing pain from his lower back to the very end of his spine. derek probably doesn't need the light with his super fancy werewolf eyesight, but stiles feels a little more comfortable keeping it on.
he's about to complain, though. as soon as he realizes derek isn't immediately putting him down, he opens his mouth to protest that his legs aren't broken and that he isn't a damsel and he isn't in enough distress for it to count, but derek cuts him off and he's left holding onto him with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows lifted.
being told to chill when one is already chilled has never worked in the history of - ever. stiles closes his mouth, effectively called out and, admittedly, mildly amused that derek knows him well enough to predict his behavior before it happens. he clears his throat in a totally dignified way, and resigns himself to being carried like a bride by a werewolf through a dark cave. ]
You chill preemptively.
[ good one, nailed that, sick burn. stiles cranes the flashlight back and forth, moving his hand from left to right and left again like a very slow sprinkler. he trusts derek's eyesight and his reflexes, so it's mostly out of curiosity that he points the light anywhere and everywhere, looking for anything of interest he may have missed in the duller light from his phone screen on the way in. ]
So there's a hot spring, like - way back there. Which is kind of cool, except there's no light? I mean there were some candle stubs around the edges, but what's that gonna do? Something about swimming around in black water really - [ his shoulders vibrate with a quick shiver ] - really creeps me out.
[ unsurprisingly, derek's completely deadpan when stiles hits him back with a hefty no you, paying more attention to where he's stepping and how stiles feels in his arms than engaging in an actual conversation. a hot spring makes sense - the air here is damp, but not cold, and the way some of the rocks smell like rain didn't make sense for derek, given that they're underground.
but that explains it. candle stubs. that bothers him, because that's proof that other people have been down here before. derek drops his eyes to his feet, reflexively pulling stiles closer, holding him tighter. the cave didn't feel claustrophobic until stiles brought up candle stubs. he can't smell anyone, but that only makes him feel more anxious. ]
Sounds like a horror movie. Bunch of horny teens sneak out to the old caves, make out in the hotsprings while their parents are away on business. Accidentally wake up an eldritch monster hidden in the caverns by partying too hard. The homeless serial killer everyone thought was dead crawls out of the dark to join in.
[ derek realizes that stiles is idly checking the place out, so he slows his walk a little, just to give him time to double check. for the most part, he doesn't want to rush stiles and fuck up his investigation, however cursory it might be, but. more immediately, he doesn't want to run back to the entrance so fast that stiles feels convinced that he could have missed something on the way out. the last thing derek needs is for stiles to sneak back here at 3AM and get stuck again.
but whatever, it's fine. he feels safer, now that stiles is in his arms, so he doesn't mind taking it easy. ]
I don't like that other people have been here. They could've just been curious, like you, but.
[ but the candles make it sound like they'd stayed here for a while, and candles by the hot springs makes it sounds like they came here to relax, and that shouldn't unsettle him, but it does. there are tons of vampires around here who wouldn't care about the dark - maybe they found the place, hid away in the caverns, made it their own. but then why did they leave, and why aren't there more prominent signs of life around the upper levels of the cave? every vampire he's met has smelled like death. there should be some kind of trace of them.
ugh. derek's voice sounds too loud, suddenly, echoing among the clay. he keeps it quiter, though it doesn't make much of a difference. ]
But maybe not. You think this place is worth keeping an eye on?
[ the more derek talks about basically every cheesy horror movie plot, the more creeped out stiles starts to feel and the more stiles just wants to be out of the caves. it's not that he's scared - though that is a small part of it, and that's fine, because it's okay to be unsettled by the unknown - but moreso that if, for whatever reason, there does happen to be some kind of cave monster lurking in the dark water of the hot springs, or some crazed serial killer everyone seems to have forgotten about lurking around in the hollow caverns - stiles is completely unprepared to face either one of those things. he doesn't have his bat, he doesn't have any mountain ash (as if that would be useful against anything other than derek), he doesn't have the gun he picked up off a guard back in fort harmony when everyone was in a mad rush for freedom.
he's completely defenseless, and he doesn't like the thought of not being able to protect derek even half of as much as derek could protect him if everything were to suddenly go to shit right now.
but it's probably fine. there probably isn't a massive, ugly squid-creature waiting at the bottom of the spring. probably. hopefully.
stiles does his best to ignore the unease settling in his gut. he hadn't really given too much thought to the candles, figuring it was just - the easiest source of transportable light outside of a cellphone, but— but why not just use a cell phone? turn on the light, build a solid, dry base with a folded up piece of clothing, prop it up against a rock. stiles can't imagine a couple scattered candles would do much to alleviate the heavy, pitch black darkness. a torch, maybe, but a handful of candles?
stiles wets his lips, holding his light steady and static now, his fingers absently pinching some of the material of derek's shirt by his shoulder, rubbing it between his fingertips as he thinks. ]
... I don't know. It seems kind of weird, doesn't it? Like - why candles? And they're all mostly burned down to the base, too. If people are coming down here that often, why not bring a more practical light source, like battery powered lanterns, or just. A couple cell phones - turn on the flashlights, set them up in a dry-ish place.
[ stiles breathes out through his nose, idly chewing at the corner of his mouth in lieu of chewing at his nails because neither of his hands are really free enough for him to do so. ]
It could just be - I don't know, people trying to be romantic. Candlelight. Privacy. But something— it doesn't— I just get this... weird feeling.
[ a feeling he can't really explain or back up with actual, unquestionable evidence to support his unease, but it's similar to every other time he's had a bad feeling about something. stiles doesn't want to brush it off, but he doesn't want to fuel his paranoia, either, if paranoia is all it turns out to be. ]
It just seems... strange, that there's nothing else but the candles. Even organized people are forgetful sometimes, and I could barely see even with what little light I had - but you'd think there'd be something someone might have overlooked when picking up their things to head out, right? Like - maybe jewelry they took off, or a sock, or wrappers from a snack they brought down with them. Matches. A lighter.
[ it's probably nothing. stiles is probably making something out of nothing right now, spurred on by derek's recount of every shitty horror movie. he lets go of where he's pinching at derek's shirt, only just realizing he's plucking at it, and lets his fingers rest gently over the curve of his shoulder instead. ]
It's — it's probably nothing. Horny teenagers sneaking around, too worried about their phones getting water damage. Not everyone can buy a bag of rice, I guess.
[ the last thing derek wanted to do was scare stiles. part of why he'd decided to screw around and bring up potential freddy kreugers and nightmare squid friends was because he'd hoped for the opposite effect, actually - taking the piss out of something unsettling seemed like a better way of dealing with his own apprehension than actually confronting it.
but every point stiles makes is right, and derek doesn't walk any faster, not yet, but he does shuffle his grip around stiles' back so that he can hold him firmer, tilting his head just an inch or two down so he can breathe in the comforting smell of his hair. stiles used derek's shampoo again, and - he's not going to get hard, not when jason fucking voorhees is probably standing behind them crying about his life into his hockey mask, or something, but there is a leap in his chest that makes him forget, momentarily, where he is.
the candles are a problem. stiles keeps talking over himself, and derek lets him, for the most part, but when that's the note he ends on, derek feels he has to speak up. ]
No. You've always been perceptive, and now you've had years of practice honing your intuition. You're the sheriff's son, for fuck's sake. If your gut's telling you that something's wrong, then something's probably wrong.
[ back home, derek hasn't gotten to the point where he's willing to blindly follow stiles into the dark, but he's getting close. it's a different story, in duplicity. he can see stiles' intelligence for what it is, and if there are clues here, derek doesn't want to dismiss them so easily. they'll keep the cave on the map. they'll figure this out together. ]
We can talk about this when we're outside. I'm gonna walk a little faster, so - hold on tight.
[ there's an uneven step in the cave where two flat rocks meet, and derek has to do a little hop to get over it. he does it quick, because he's scared of jostling stiles around and irritating his injury too much, and then it's a pretty clear stretch to the mouth of the cave. he walks in long, careful strides, minding his footsteps like he wants to keep them quiet, now that they've breached the possibility that this might be somebody else's territory. the candles are burned down to the base, just like stiles said. horny teenagers wouldn't need to sneak around in bonertown. someone's been in that cave a lot, but derek can only smell the earth. that feels wrong.
they make it outside and derek doesn't put stiles down, even though he said he would. he walks away from the cave until he's not feeling sandstone or dirt half as much as he's feeling grass, and when he turns to look back at it, he keeps stiles pulled close to his chest. he'll have to actually ask derek to let him go before he does. ]
[ again, derek is supportive. derek backs up stiles' mostly-baseless theories without question and it's just - strange. it's a strange feeling to be blindly supported by anyone who's not his father (and even then, sometimes the sheriff isn't quick to jump on stiles' side, but the history there is different), and it strikes him so deeply that all he can do for a few long seconds is look at derek. he stares at the side of his face, not necessarily wide-eyed, but just... quietly awed, his eyebrows gently drawn toward one another, the tips of his fingers flexing lightly against the muscle of derek's shoulder.
maybe scott's betrayal is still too fresh for stiles. it's been months, between home and here, and he and scott made up - but it was never going to be that easy to let it go, not for stiles. not when he'd tried time and time again to warn his friends that things weren't adding up, not when he'd provided actual evidence to back up his suspicions. not when he was right, and still almost lost everything and everyone anyway. scott had believed theo over stiles, hadn't even stopped to ask him what had really happened. theo told scott he was a murderer, and scott believed him without question despite everything stiles had tried to make them see. took the word of a stranger, and basically kicked stiles out of the pack for it.
stiles says one thing, makes a bunch of small observances, says he feels weird about it - and derek believes him. derek trusts him, acknowledges that he's not just full of shit all the time. stiles kind of wants to kiss him for it - just on the cheek, something quick, but he fights the impulse and just silently reminds himself that he's very, very lucky.
stiles curls his fingers tight around derek's phone and maneuvers his other arm around derek's shoulders at his warning, light pointed outward behind him. he tenses a little in anticipation of some greater pain, but it's not so bad on the other side of derek's short hop. he knows that he shouldn't, but something compels him to turn his head to look back over derek's shoulder, still shining the light somewhere from behind derek's neck.
there's nothing there but heavy darkness blurring the edges of the light, and that same, nagging feeling of something more. something that isn't right about the candles, about the lack of anything else. maybe he should have gone deeper.
maybe derek wouldn't have been able to find him, if he had.
stiles breathes a little easier once they're out of the cave, feeling a lot less claustrophobic now that they're out in the open. or, as open as being in the down can get. he unwinds one of his arms so he can swipe his thumb up from the bottom of the screen to turn off the light on derek's phone now that it isn't necessary for either of them. after a beat, he taps another icon, then holds the phone up, and he snaps a photo of the mouth of the cave. just in case.
it takes him a couple of seconds to realize derek hasn't put him down yet. which is actually kind of fine, if he's honest, because he's kind of dreading standing up and walking, but at the same time, he doesn't really want to be seen being carried across the down and through the up, like some kind of helpless loser. like — like a submissive, who is only allowed to go where his dominant takes him. which is dumb, because that's probably not even what it would look like. people probably wouldn't even care.
stiles clears his throat. he lightly touches the edge of derek's phone to his own chin and raises his eyebrows a little, wetting his lips before pressing them together. ]
Derek, [ he starts. calm, casual, nonchalant. he taps the phone against his chin twice, kicks one of his feet lazily, and then quickly stops that because it pulls at some sore muscles. ] You can put me down. You said you'd put me down. Outside. Which we are. Currently.
[ lies have an intimate relationship with this city. every inch of duplicity is based on or profits off of dishonesty, and derek's lost a lot of his initial fire when it comes to dealing with it. he's tired. dishonesty breeds in this city faster than rats, and it's funny that after what feels like a life time of shutting down and trusting no one and assuming the worst, it's a place as filthy as this that's started to bring out the best in derek.
back home, he couldn't see the better qualities in stiles. he was too quickly blinded by a need to protect him and scott without stopping to ask if they needed him, and then he was too quickly frustrated by his youthful ignorance to treat him like someone capable of critical thought. here - he trusts stiles as much as he trusts himself. he trusts stiles more than he trusts himself. he's quicker to listen, quicker to ask for help, quicker to apologize, even if it's all still a little hard to do, sometimes. he hopes stiles doesn't think he's been too much of a dick.
now that they're back in the down, he lets his eyes spill back into hazel, the red disappearing like the moon behind clouds. stiles reminds him of his promise, tapping at his chin with his phone, and that's annoying, but not enough to stoke a reaction. derek just stares ahead into nothing, contemplative. he acts like he can't hear stiles, but he senses the twinge of pain in stiles, and that gets his attention. he looks oddly... stubborn, when he's pulled away from his thoughts. ]
Mm.
[ yes. correct. he did say that he would put stiles down. he did say that. this is true. stiles is right.
derek's not going to put him down.
... okay, fine, okay, yes, fine. okay. he will. maybe. he just needs a second to ramp up to it, because he's a little afraid of hurting stiles by not being careful enough. slaps over the head, mild insults, that's one thing - but derek doesn't know how bad stiles' injury really is yet, and he's afraid of doing something to make it worse. a strained few seconds pass before he relents, but there's anxiety bubbling in his stomach as he frets over doing this right. ]
Fine.
[ reluctantly - very, very reluctantly - derek sets stiles down, moving slow and keeping close. it's clumsy, how he does it, because he sinks his knees down and stiffly maneuvers himself into an uncomfortable position so stiles doesn't have to bend his back when he gets up, but then he stands, and stiles can stand, too. derek looks at him for all of two seconds before deciding this was a bad idea. ]
You're in pain. I can tell. We need to get you home.
[ derek frowns, eyebrows together in the middle, and he's standing straight, but he has his hands half-out like he's expecting stiles to fall. rather than look like a dom and a sub wandering the down together, they probably look like an old man and his overzealous grandson. ]
[ it takes long enough for derek to even begin to put stiles down that stiles almost resigns himself to his fate as a distressed damsel being carried by the handsome hero parading the evidence of his brave rescue all over the town. he rolls his eyes and he sighs quietly and he starts to squirm just a little, arching his back a few degrees before he decides, with a sharp twinge and a tiny squeak, that that's a terrible idea.
but derek starts to set him down and it's awkward and stiles clings a little like he doesn't actually want this, but he's just. concerned about being dropped. derek is fast and he's agile and his instincts are sharp, but it's the awkward crouch and the stiffness with which derek goes about putting him down that makes him question whether or not gravity is about to drag his ass right back to the ground for a second helping of unnecessary, unfortunate pain.
he plants his feet slowly, eases some of his weight off of derek's arms, and it's - fine. it's... okay. he stands there with his shoulders heavily hunched, head bowed slightly, almost like he wants to fold in on himself. his hands shake a little as he slides derek's phone into his front pocket - he'll give it back later, once they're home, or whenever derek asks for it if it's before then - oppsite of his own phone, and then very slowly, he starts to straighten his spine.
it's not - excruciating. the pain isn't crippling by any means, and it's mostly focused around his tailbone. the muscles in his lower back are tight and tense and sore too, and something pinches a little as he stands a little taller. stiles clenches his teeth, eyes squinting slightly near the corners, and he tries to play it off.
[ but he can't even bother to mask that lie because he's super uncomfortable and it sucks. his shirt still feels warm and damp from the cave floor, clinging to his back underneath his overshirt, which is also gross. stiles sighs through his nose, and with an unfortunate look, he lazily holds one arm out toward derek, fingers spread with his palm up, unsure why derek needs his arm, but not wary enough of his intentions to ask.
gingerly, he reaches back with his other hand to pinch at his t-shirt, pulling it away from his skin. the feeling is slightly weird, and the separation just leaves his skin feeling cold. he shivers, which also sucks and draws a terse little grunt out of him, and then very presses his fingertips against the muscles in his lower back, squinting up at derek. ]
... Ibuprofen. Please. You can have all of the money I have left, I don't care.
[ all of the money stiles has left, after everything he's already handed over to derek to put towards the new place, is going to have to go towards things like - an actual bed, some food, maybe some smaller furniture like a book case and/or a used love seat. toiletries. house stuff. but a couple dollars spent on pain killers isn't going to put them in the hole. ]
[ the squirming, the squeaking, the way stiles needs a second to straighten out his spine and tentatively feel out how bad his injury might be - it all worries derek, who watches stiles manage his weight and stammer over his stupid-ass lie with open concern. he needs to get him home. when stiles offers him money, derek can't tell if he's joking or not, but he gets annoyed all the same. ]
Fuck off. I don't care about money. I care about you.
[ he brought the drugs, solely because stiles told him to, but - he doesn't exactly trust the drugs here to do what they say they will on the tin. not after the fort. spiking stiles with viagra while he's nursing bruised bones and a potentially bruised ego doesn't seem like the best way to end today, so he offers something else, instead.
stiles holds out his arm, and derek steps closer. he takes stiles' wrist in one hand, just to hold him steady, then grips his forearm with the other. they're still in public, and a quiet, scratchy part of derek's brain is telling him to at least drag stiles back into the cave and out of sight if they're going to do this, but he's impatient and he's worried and he doesn't want to waste any more time.
and then - derek takes stiles' pain. it pulls itself from his veins and coils up through derek's blood in dark, black tendrils, and derek gets tense and sweaty from the effort of it. he can feel the dull ache that stiles is going through transfer into his own body, and he holds stiles' arm a little tighter just in case he tries to pull away. derek closes his eyes when he needs the time to focus, and in twenty, maybe thirty seconds, the black ropes in his arm fade and blend into the rest of his bloodstream.
derek sighs. he lets go, running his thumb over stiles' wrist, soft and reassuring. he opens his eyes, looks at stiles, and he's a little sweaty, a little sore, but he's okay. stiles should be okay now, too. ]
You really scared me.
[ he's repeating himself, mumbling quietly under his breath, but. it's true. derek wets his lips, fishes his hand into his pocket. he's light-headed and sort of lethargic after taking stiles' pain, so he's moving slower than normal, but he fishes out the ibuprofen he promised and curls the packaging in stiles' hand. in case he still wants them for later. ]
[ stiles has half the mind to argue that it's not about money, it's about - equality, or something like that. about not being allowed to buy anything on his own even when he can afford it (and he can afford a couple single-dose packets of pain killers, thank you), and having to rely on derek for... practically anything and everything. which honestly isn't necessarily a bad thing, because relying on each other is just - what they do. stiles just wants to be able to pay for the things he wants and needs with his own money, even if derek is always going to have to be the one to hand it over.
but derek also tells him that he cares about him, and that kind of chases away any desire to argue. it's not as if it's the first time derek's ever said that he cares, but it still feels good. sometimes it's just nice to hear it, to be reminded.
stiles' mouth thins out, like he wants to be kind of mad at derek, but also like he's trying to stave off a pleased little smile. he breathes out a heavy sigh, and then - immediately starts to brace himself as derek closes both of his hands around his arm, one around his wrist, and the other around his forearm. he assumes derek is about to drag his ass through the city, glad that stiles is relatively okay (obviously), but still fed up with him in general. he opens his mouth, about to stammer through a panicky protest about how he's sore and stiff and power-walking is his current enemy—
—but none of that happens. stiles exhales slowly, like derek's pulling the breath out of him too. stiles has had his pain drained once before - by scott, after stiles punched the jeep's engine in a surge of pent up anger and frustration - but that was minor in comparison. not that stiles is dying, but it's easier to cope with a sore hand than it is to cope with a heavily bruised tailbone and a sore lower back.
the pain eases gradually but steadily, the tension slowly melting out of his muscles and making him feel a little woozy and warm with relief. stiles lowers his head slightly as he exhales, his gaze drifting to where derek's hand is curled around his arm, veins dark and black as they reach and fade toward his elbow. it takes stiles a couple of moments to remember that whatever pain derek takes from him, he has to experience himself.
stiles lifts his head up. he takes in the thin sheen of sweat, the mild tension, the effort derek is putting in just - to make him feel better. stiles immediately tries to pull his arm out of derek's grip, just as derek predicted he would, but he doesn't put nearly enough strength behind the tug of his shoulder. his tone is quietly urgent. ]
Derek, wait—
[ he lifts his free hand, but he catches himself before he touches derek, unsure if another point of skin-to-skin contact would just push more of his pain into him, faster. even as his palm hovers near derek's elbow, his other hand curled into a loose fist, stiles' posture starts to improve in increments. his shoulders square up out of their minor slouch, his lower spine straightens out as he breathes in deep, his eyes on derek, ready to do whatever he can to yank his arm free if he thinks, even for a second, that derek is pushing himself too far.
stiles still feels a little unsteady by the time derek opens his eyes, his own eyes flickering over derek's face, his expression a mix of quiet concern and mild affection, but most of all, gratitude. he feels - good. he feels better, and it's a weird feeling, just like it was weird when scott took the throbbing pain from his hand.
derek looks soft and lazy though, and he's quiet, and stiles feels a little guilty, both for scaring derek (enough that derek has mentioned it multiple times) and for being the reason he looks as worn out as he does now. stiles lets his hand settle at derek's elbow finally, cupping his hand around the back of it and letting his palm rub slowly up the back of his bicep and then back down. ]
Sorry, big guy. I just... wanted to check it out. Didn't really think it through. [ he squeezes just above derek's elbow before letting go, his voice still on the quieter side, but trying to sound a little brighter, attempting to reassure him. ] I'm okay, though. ... Thank you.
[ even though he lets derek go, stiles' hands kind of hover for a couple moments longer as derek starts to rifle around in his pocket for something. at first, stiles thinks derek's looking for his phone, but before stiles can drop his hands so he can slide it out of his pocket to give it to him, derek presses a single-dose packet of ibuprofen into his palm.
stiles blinks at it once, twice, uncurling his fingers from around the little foil square. when he'd asked about pain killers, stiles had assumed they'd just swing by the nearest convenience store on the way home to pick something up. but not only did derek show up without hesitation when stiles said he needed him, but he showed up with what stiles asked for, presumably to minimize the amount of time stiles would have to be in pain if it weren't for derek's neat little trick.
stiles glances up from the pills and pockets them as he looks at derek. the corners of his mouth pull a little, his smile faint at first. he steps forward and twists slightly and, as casually as he can manage, he slides one arm around derek's back and lifts derek's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. he doesn't make derek lean into him, doesn't assume or imply derek needs him for support at all, but he's there all the same, just in case. stiles starts to lead them away from the caves and back toward the center of the down, his pace slow and easy. ]
You wanna take the train or the elevator? Elevator might be faster if we catch it at the right time, but - you can sit down on the train.
[ derek has these moments with stiles that feel... memorable, for no real reason. looking at stiles when he's throbbing with stolen pain, slightly more exhausted from worry than he's letting on and still smelling salt and dirt from being so deep in those caves... looking at him and seeing this thin, battled smile on stiles' face while he struggles to counterbalance how pleased he is to be cared about with a weak, bristling, funny little anger... seeing that expression slip into genuine worry, genuine panic, genuine concern, as he tries to ease his arm out of derek's grip to-- to bear with pain, so that derek won't have to?
this is going to be one of those moments. he's going to remember this. he's going to see stiles' face when he tries to sleep, and then his heart's going to beat fast enough to keep him awake. he's going to roll over tonight, and stiles is going to be there on the other side of the bed, safe and warm, cuddled up against him. he's going to kiss stiles on the back of his neck, and he's going to want to tell him he loves him for the ten thousandth time since fort harmony, and he's going to quietly promise to himself that he'll do everything in his power to keep stiles safe. he's going to remember this.
it's. good. it's really good. derek's going to remember a lot of really good things, because of stiles. it's been a long time since his memories were good.
stiles touches his elbow, his arm. it's soothing and comforting and makes him feel loved, and after siphoning away so much pain, he doesn't have the wherewithal to stop himself from smiling. he just - grins, his smile splitting apart his face and making him look ten years younger, eyes crinkling at the edges and looking all that softer. stiles calls him big guy, and that actually kind of turns derek on more than it should, given that under the sweetness of the moment, he's still sort of annoyed this afternoon went the way that it did.
but it's fine. derek sways on his feet a little and starts to move, grin fading, but stiles intercepts before he can get too far, slinging his arm over his shoulders and offering himself as something to lean on. derek doesn't even notice that that's what he's doing, at first; their bodies fit so neatly and naturally together that he just feels like he's walking comfortably with his boyfriend, like normal couples do. stiles asks a question, and derek doesn't really have much of an opinion, but. he still finds a way to be annoyed. ]
I don't need to sit down. I don't-- ugh.
[ wait, hold on. he realizes all at once that stiles is trying to offer him support, as if he can't walk to the up on his own, or something. ugh. impatiently, derek slaps at stiles' arm and slinks out from underneath it, putting a couple of paces difference between them. all that softness, the sentimentality - that's gone, because now the pain he stole is genuinely starting to get on his nerves, and the ache in his bones is quickly pushing him back into that old grumpy shithead standard he's so well-known for. ]
I don't need to lean on you, either. You dick. I just want to go home.
[ from the direction he's walking, it looks like derek's heading back to the elevator, if only out of spite. he's slightly hunched over, hands in his pockets, and he's not walking as fast as he could. he's not worried - it's only pain, and he's not really injured, so once he gets home and lays down for a while, his body will rush through the healing process and make him feel better.
it's stiles, that he's worried about. the pain might be gone, but that's not going to knit his tailbone back together if it really is damaged. derek drags his feet up the street, one hand on his neck. he feels a little feverish, and that's annoying, more than anything else, because the patchy complexion and the sweat is only going to make stiles think he's suffering more after taking his pain than he is. derek heaves a very big, very canine sigh. ]
Let's - pick up the key to the new place. We can just...
[ derek pauses. he keeps walking. ]
It's not like we have a lot to move from the apartment. We could seriously just... get the key and go.
[ stiles has those kinds of moments too. moments where derek says or does something relatively unremarkable to most, but to stiles, those little moments - when derek laughs unexpectedly, when he says something sarcastic or impressively witty, when he does something so human that it's strange, when he smiles, wide and unguarded and beautiful like he's smiling right now - as few and far between as they are, as they have been over the past two years for stiles, those moments stick.
as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.
[ when stiles drops behind him, derek keeps walking, pointedly acting as if he's not keenly aware of the distance they're putting between themselves. when stiles jogs ahead of him, though, walking backwards and maintaining eye contact, derek doesn't really have the luxury of acting like he's big and tough and fine with heading back to the elevator alone. he's immediately standing up straighter, walking slower, keeping an eye on stiles' feet. ready to rush out and grab him in case he falls.
back at the apartment, derek doesn't have too many belongings to call his own. no laptop, no baseball bat. he has a small, squirrelled away pile of medical supplies he's been trying to keep stocked since a week or so after the fort - he's gotta take good care of his human, after all - but stiles started that, he's just been maintaining it.
he doesn't have anything particularly precious to hold onto. the chessboard was his most important purchase, and he thinks of that as stiles' more than his own. everything precious in his life comes back to stiles, in some way.
anyway - it's fine. the less to carry, the sooner they can move. stiles says he's ready, and derek can hear the budding excitement in his voice, and maybe it's just because the pain is really starting to put him in a bad mood, but the but stiles ends his sentence with kinda ticks him off. derek meets the wry shift of stiles' mouth with a big, stone wall of narrow eyebrows and flaring nostrils. annoyed. annoying. this is annoying.
derek walks a little faster. yes, he's serious. yes, he's sure. yes, he's a big bad werewolf, however poorly and condescendingly stiles chooses to express that fact through spectacularly shitty charades. dismissively, derek shakes his head, holding his hand up like he's stopping stiles from talking. ]
I want a blowjob.
[ ... maybe a little direct, but. derek stares at stiles, dropping his hand. he can relax when they get there - he's pretty sure getting blown will be more relaxing than laying around in an apartment he hates, being miserable and worrying about all the ways stiles could have died in that cave if things had gone wrong, dwelling on the ache in his back. moving might be a hassle, but getting there and spending the night together matters more to him than anything else. he just wants to live somewhere private and quiet and alone with somebody very important to him. he'll keep arguing until stiles gives in, if he has to.
the elevator's just up ahead, and it doesn't take much time to get over there, though it looks like it's going to be a pretty long wait until it descends from the up. more exasperated than anything else, derek slumps sideways against the metal panel to the side of it, his shoulder propped up against the wall. he gives stiles his attention while he listens to the distant, drowned out hum of the elevator's machinery somewhere far, far above them, and he pushes himself to say more. ]
If you really think I need to rest before we move, then...
[ fine, he almost says, but no, he's still willing to argue until stiles caves. derek visually changes his mind and cuts himself off halfway through, scrunching up his face like he just doesn't fucking get why stiles is holding out on him. ]
Then - you're wrong? And kind of stupid?
[ he folds his arms over his chest, crosses one foot over his ankle. he leans more weight against the wall, and it's not because he's hurt, or because he needs it, even if that's actually sort of maybe the truth, partially, perhaps. he just likes to lean on things. ask anyone. ]
[ derek speeds up, but stiles maintains his own pace, mostly because he's still mildly concerned about tripping over his own feet or misstepping over a curb while walking backwards and ending up back on his ass, and he doesn't trust derek not to try and leech his pain again, on top of the pain he's already stole from him. so derek closes some of the distance between them, and when he catches up, stiles kind of... side-steps for a few steps. he crab-walks, does a little number with his feet as he turns and puts himself back next to derek again, opening his mouth to reiterate that he really does want to move, don't get him wrong—
but derek puts his hand up, cutting stiles off before he can even begin, and stiles has maybe two seconds to look mildly offended at being interrupted before derek hits him with fucking - i want a blowjob, completely unexpected, though maybe stiles should have expected it. it's enough to stop him in his tracks for a moment though, enough to actually trip him up a little but not so much that he nearly ends up sprawled on the pavement.
he stands there, blinking after derek as he keeps walking, face kind of... dumb. he looks a little bit like the human equivalent of a blue screen, expression somewhat vacant, eyebrows lifted, eyes vaguely distant. stiles blinks, his stomach flipping subtly. pleasantly. anxiously, as he thinks about the new place - the living room, the wrap-around balcony, the island in the kitchen, picturing himself on his knees—
christ. ]
Hhhokay.
[ he sounds a little weak, a little squeaky, maybe slightly overwhelmed, but in a good way. stiles doesn't have to jog this time to catch back up to derek again, and he closes the space with a couple long, slightly-awkward strides, hands in his pockets once they reach the elevators. he stands at the opposite side of the doors across from derek, idly rocking backwards onto his heels before tilting his weight forward onto flat feet. he repeats this, knees bending slightly every time he rolls onto the balls of his feet.
derek leans against the wall. stiles tries to think of something witty to say, but he's still thinking about blowjobs and how - bad it's probably going to be for derek, because stiles is inexperienced and just because he wants to blow derek... pretty freaking badly, that doesn't mean he's going to be any good at it. it seems relatively straight-forward, but nothing is ever as easy as it seems in stiles' experience.
derek is fantastic at giving blowjobs, though. he's probably got standards.
stiles is just making himself nervous, so he finds something else to focus on so he can stop thinking about derek's dick in his mouth. and that something just happens to be derek himself, slumped against the wall as they wait for the elevator, which, by the sounds of it, is going to take an eternity before it makes it back down to their level.
he laughs. derek calls him stupid, tells him he's wrong, and stiles huffs an amused breath out through his nose, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. his eyebrows arch, eyes narrowing near the corners as he looks derek over. ]
... We're standing here waiting for the elevator, which we both know won't make it back down here for at least another, what - fifteen, twenty minutes? And then it's another ten minute ride between here and there. That's thirty minutes of waiting, it would take maybe ten minutes to get to the train from here, another ten minutes to get back to the Up.
If you want a - blowjob so badly, then why are we taking the long way?
[ stiles unfolds one of his arms, holds his hand out the same way derek did to him, stopping him from interrupting. the question's rhetorical, he's not done. ]
It's because walking hurts more than standing still, doesn't it? And you're in enough pain that you need a break.
[ he gestures at derek with a sweeping hand, from his chest to his knees, and then back up, as if to emphasize his point. his point being that derek is leaning, and it's not as casual as derek might think, at least not to stiles. he softens a little, though, dropping his arms and turning slightly to lean his shoulders against the paneling, opposite from derek, head turned to look at him. ]
... You didn't have to take all of it, you know. I could have handled it.
[ but, you know. thank you. stiles presses his lips together for a moment, then smiles faintly. derek is too good for him, even if he gets on stiles' nerves like - all the fucking time. stiles lightly drums his hands on his thighs, knees locked and legs extended and braced. ]
Let's - get the keys, and we can move our stuff, but you're gonna take it easy when we get there. Don't argue with me. I will pin your ass down and make you relax if I have to. Don't try me.
[ as if stiles could actually hold derek down, but that's not the point, ok. ]
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he shakes his head lightly, letting his fingers drag gently as derek pulls his arm back, murmuring mostly to himself that it doesn't sound stupid, and that at least I know I can rely on you. which stiles already knew, has already known for a while now, but the confirmation is nice.
stiles moves his knees together, the heel of one sneaker scraping quietly against wet stone as he drags his leg in closer. he breathes in deep and then just kind of holds it like he's bracing himself for something - pain and discomfort, probably -, recognizing that he's about to be picked up when derek tucks one arm behind his knees. he reaches up to hook one arm over derek's shoulder, draping it over the back of his neck, and keeps the flashlight out of both of their eyes with the other, ignoring the moderate, throbbing pain from his lower back to the very end of his spine. derek probably doesn't need the light with his super fancy werewolf eyesight, but stiles feels a little more comfortable keeping it on.
he's about to complain, though. as soon as he realizes derek isn't immediately putting him down, he opens his mouth to protest that his legs aren't broken and that he isn't a damsel and he isn't in enough distress for it to count, but derek cuts him off and he's left holding onto him with his mouth slightly open and his eyebrows lifted.
being told to chill when one is already chilled has never worked in the history of - ever. stiles closes his mouth, effectively called out and, admittedly, mildly amused that derek knows him well enough to predict his behavior before it happens. he clears his throat in a totally dignified way, and resigns himself to being carried like a bride by a werewolf through a dark cave. ]
You chill preemptively.
[ good one, nailed that, sick burn. stiles cranes the flashlight back and forth, moving his hand from left to right and left again like a very slow sprinkler. he trusts derek's eyesight and his reflexes, so it's mostly out of curiosity that he points the light anywhere and everywhere, looking for anything of interest he may have missed in the duller light from his phone screen on the way in. ]
So there's a hot spring, like - way back there. Which is kind of cool, except there's no light? I mean there were some candle stubs around the edges, but what's that gonna do? Something about swimming around in black water really - [ his shoulders vibrate with a quick shiver ] - really creeps me out.
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[ unsurprisingly, derek's completely deadpan when stiles hits him back with a hefty no you, paying more attention to where he's stepping and how stiles feels in his arms than engaging in an actual conversation. a hot spring makes sense - the air here is damp, but not cold, and the way some of the rocks smell like rain didn't make sense for derek, given that they're underground.
but that explains it. candle stubs. that bothers him, because that's proof that other people have been down here before. derek drops his eyes to his feet, reflexively pulling stiles closer, holding him tighter. the cave didn't feel claustrophobic until stiles brought up candle stubs. he can't smell anyone, but that only makes him feel more anxious. ]
Sounds like a horror movie. Bunch of horny teens sneak out to the old caves, make out in the hotsprings while their parents are away on business. Accidentally wake up an eldritch monster hidden in the caverns by partying too hard. The homeless serial killer everyone thought was dead crawls out of the dark to join in.
[ derek realizes that stiles is idly checking the place out, so he slows his walk a little, just to give him time to double check. for the most part, he doesn't want to rush stiles and fuck up his investigation, however cursory it might be, but. more immediately, he doesn't want to run back to the entrance so fast that stiles feels convinced that he could have missed something on the way out. the last thing derek needs is for stiles to sneak back here at 3AM and get stuck again.
but whatever, it's fine. he feels safer, now that stiles is in his arms, so he doesn't mind taking it easy. ]
I don't like that other people have been here. They could've just been curious, like you, but.
[ but the candles make it sound like they'd stayed here for a while, and candles by the hot springs makes it sounds like they came here to relax, and that shouldn't unsettle him, but it does. there are tons of vampires around here who wouldn't care about the dark - maybe they found the place, hid away in the caverns, made it their own. but then why did they leave, and why aren't there more prominent signs of life around the upper levels of the cave? every vampire he's met has smelled like death. there should be some kind of trace of them.
ugh. derek's voice sounds too loud, suddenly, echoing among the clay. he keeps it quiter, though it doesn't make much of a difference. ]
But maybe not. You think this place is worth keeping an eye on?
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he's completely defenseless, and he doesn't like the thought of not being able to protect derek even half of as much as derek could protect him if everything were to suddenly go to shit right now.
but it's probably fine. there probably isn't a massive, ugly squid-creature waiting at the bottom of the spring. probably. hopefully.
stiles does his best to ignore the unease settling in his gut. he hadn't really given too much thought to the candles, figuring it was just - the easiest source of transportable light outside of a cellphone, but— but why not just use a cell phone? turn on the light, build a solid, dry base with a folded up piece of clothing, prop it up against a rock. stiles can't imagine a couple scattered candles would do much to alleviate the heavy, pitch black darkness. a torch, maybe, but a handful of candles?
stiles wets his lips, holding his light steady and static now, his fingers absently pinching some of the material of derek's shirt by his shoulder, rubbing it between his fingertips as he thinks. ]
... I don't know. It seems kind of weird, doesn't it? Like - why candles? And they're all mostly burned down to the base, too. If people are coming down here that often, why not bring a more practical light source, like battery powered lanterns, or just. A couple cell phones - turn on the flashlights, set them up in a dry-ish place.
[ stiles breathes out through his nose, idly chewing at the corner of his mouth in lieu of chewing at his nails because neither of his hands are really free enough for him to do so. ]
It could just be - I don't know, people trying to be romantic. Candlelight. Privacy. But something— it doesn't— I just get this... weird feeling.
[ a feeling he can't really explain or back up with actual, unquestionable evidence to support his unease, but it's similar to every other time he's had a bad feeling about something. stiles doesn't want to brush it off, but he doesn't want to fuel his paranoia, either, if paranoia is all it turns out to be. ]
It just seems... strange, that there's nothing else but the candles. Even organized people are forgetful sometimes, and I could barely see even with what little light I had - but you'd think there'd be something someone might have overlooked when picking up their things to head out, right? Like - maybe jewelry they took off, or a sock, or wrappers from a snack they brought down with them. Matches. A lighter.
[ it's probably nothing. stiles is probably making something out of nothing right now, spurred on by derek's recount of every shitty horror movie. he lets go of where he's pinching at derek's shirt, only just realizing he's plucking at it, and lets his fingers rest gently over the curve of his shoulder instead. ]
It's — it's probably nothing. Horny teenagers sneaking around, too worried about their phones getting water damage. Not everyone can buy a bag of rice, I guess.
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but every point stiles makes is right, and derek doesn't walk any faster, not yet, but he does shuffle his grip around stiles' back so that he can hold him firmer, tilting his head just an inch or two down so he can breathe in the comforting smell of his hair. stiles used derek's shampoo again, and - he's not going to get hard, not when jason fucking voorhees is probably standing behind them crying about his life into his hockey mask, or something, but there is a leap in his chest that makes him forget, momentarily, where he is.
the candles are a problem. stiles keeps talking over himself, and derek lets him, for the most part, but when that's the note he ends on, derek feels he has to speak up. ]
No. You've always been perceptive, and now you've had years of practice honing your intuition. You're the sheriff's son, for fuck's sake. If your gut's telling you that something's wrong, then something's probably wrong.
[ back home, derek hasn't gotten to the point where he's willing to blindly follow stiles into the dark, but he's getting close. it's a different story, in duplicity. he can see stiles' intelligence for what it is, and if there are clues here, derek doesn't want to dismiss them so easily. they'll keep the cave on the map. they'll figure this out together. ]
We can talk about this when we're outside. I'm gonna walk a little faster, so - hold on tight.
[ there's an uneven step in the cave where two flat rocks meet, and derek has to do a little hop to get over it. he does it quick, because he's scared of jostling stiles around and irritating his injury too much, and then it's a pretty clear stretch to the mouth of the cave. he walks in long, careful strides, minding his footsteps like he wants to keep them quiet, now that they've breached the possibility that this might be somebody else's territory. the candles are burned down to the base, just like stiles said. horny teenagers wouldn't need to sneak around in bonertown. someone's been in that cave a lot, but derek can only smell the earth. that feels wrong.
they make it outside and derek doesn't put stiles down, even though he said he would. he walks away from the cave until he's not feeling sandstone or dirt half as much as he's feeling grass, and when he turns to look back at it, he keeps stiles pulled close to his chest. he'll have to actually ask derek to let him go before he does. ]
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maybe scott's betrayal is still too fresh for stiles. it's been months, between home and here, and he and scott made up - but it was never going to be that easy to let it go, not for stiles. not when he'd tried time and time again to warn his friends that things weren't adding up, not when he'd provided actual evidence to back up his suspicions. not when he was right, and still almost lost everything and everyone anyway. scott had believed theo over stiles, hadn't even stopped to ask him what had really happened. theo told scott he was a murderer, and scott believed him without question despite everything stiles had tried to make them see. took the word of a stranger, and basically kicked stiles out of the pack for it.
stiles says one thing, makes a bunch of small observances, says he feels weird about it - and derek believes him. derek trusts him, acknowledges that he's not just full of shit all the time. stiles kind of wants to kiss him for it - just on the cheek, something quick, but he fights the impulse and just silently reminds himself that he's very, very lucky.
stiles curls his fingers tight around derek's phone and maneuvers his other arm around derek's shoulders at his warning, light pointed outward behind him. he tenses a little in anticipation of some greater pain, but it's not so bad on the other side of derek's short hop. he knows that he shouldn't, but something compels him to turn his head to look back over derek's shoulder, still shining the light somewhere from behind derek's neck.
there's nothing there but heavy darkness blurring the edges of the light, and that same, nagging feeling of something more. something that isn't right about the candles, about the lack of anything else. maybe he should have gone deeper.
maybe derek wouldn't have been able to find him, if he had.
stiles breathes a little easier once they're out of the cave, feeling a lot less claustrophobic now that they're out in the open. or, as open as being in the down can get. he unwinds one of his arms so he can swipe his thumb up from the bottom of the screen to turn off the light on derek's phone now that it isn't necessary for either of them. after a beat, he taps another icon, then holds the phone up, and he snaps a photo of the mouth of the cave. just in case.
it takes him a couple of seconds to realize derek hasn't put him down yet. which is actually kind of fine, if he's honest, because he's kind of dreading standing up and walking, but at the same time, he doesn't really want to be seen being carried across the down and through the up, like some kind of helpless loser. like — like a submissive, who is only allowed to go where his dominant takes him. which is dumb, because that's probably not even what it would look like. people probably wouldn't even care.
stiles clears his throat. he lightly touches the edge of derek's phone to his own chin and raises his eyebrows a little, wetting his lips before pressing them together. ]
Derek, [ he starts. calm, casual, nonchalant. he taps the phone against his chin twice, kicks one of his feet lazily, and then quickly stops that because it pulls at some sore muscles. ] You can put me down. You said you'd put me down. Outside. Which we are. Currently.
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back home, he couldn't see the better qualities in stiles. he was too quickly blinded by a need to protect him and scott without stopping to ask if they needed him, and then he was too quickly frustrated by his youthful ignorance to treat him like someone capable of critical thought. here - he trusts stiles as much as he trusts himself. he trusts stiles more than he trusts himself. he's quicker to listen, quicker to ask for help, quicker to apologize, even if it's all still a little hard to do, sometimes. he hopes stiles doesn't think he's been too much of a dick.
now that they're back in the down, he lets his eyes spill back into hazel, the red disappearing like the moon behind clouds. stiles reminds him of his promise, tapping at his chin with his phone, and that's annoying, but not enough to stoke a reaction. derek just stares ahead into nothing, contemplative. he acts like he can't hear stiles, but he senses the twinge of pain in stiles, and that gets his attention. he looks oddly... stubborn, when he's pulled away from his thoughts. ]
Mm.
[ yes. correct. he did say that he would put stiles down. he did say that. this is true. stiles is right.
derek's not going to put him down.
... okay, fine, okay, yes, fine. okay. he will. maybe. he just needs a second to ramp up to it, because he's a little afraid of hurting stiles by not being careful enough. slaps over the head, mild insults, that's one thing - but derek doesn't know how bad stiles' injury really is yet, and he's afraid of doing something to make it worse. a strained few seconds pass before he relents, but there's anxiety bubbling in his stomach as he frets over doing this right. ]
Fine.
[ reluctantly - very, very reluctantly - derek sets stiles down, moving slow and keeping close. it's clumsy, how he does it, because he sinks his knees down and stiffly maneuvers himself into an uncomfortable position so stiles doesn't have to bend his back when he gets up, but then he stands, and stiles can stand, too. derek looks at him for all of two seconds before deciding this was a bad idea. ]
You're in pain. I can tell. We need to get you home.
[ derek frowns, eyebrows together in the middle, and he's standing straight, but he has his hands half-out like he's expecting stiles to fall. rather than look like a dom and a sub wandering the down together, they probably look like an old man and his overzealous grandson. ]
Arm.
[ "give me your arm, please," he means. ]
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but derek starts to set him down and it's awkward and stiles clings a little like he doesn't actually want this, but he's just. concerned about being dropped. derek is fast and he's agile and his instincts are sharp, but it's the awkward crouch and the stiffness with which derek goes about putting him down that makes him question whether or not gravity is about to drag his ass right back to the ground for a second helping of unnecessary, unfortunate pain.
he plants his feet slowly, eases some of his weight off of derek's arms, and it's - fine. it's... okay. he stands there with his shoulders heavily hunched, head bowed slightly, almost like he wants to fold in on himself. his hands shake a little as he slides derek's phone into his front pocket - he'll give it back later, once they're home, or whenever derek asks for it if it's before then - oppsite of his own phone, and then very slowly, he starts to straighten his spine.
it's not - excruciating. the pain isn't crippling by any means, and it's mostly focused around his tailbone. the muscles in his lower back are tight and tense and sore too, and something pinches a little as he stands a little taller. stiles clenches his teeth, eyes squinting slightly near the corners, and he tries to play it off.
derek calls him out anyway. ]
I'm - fine. It's fine, I'm good. T-ten out of... ten.
[ but he can't even bother to mask that lie because he's super uncomfortable and it sucks. his shirt still feels warm and damp from the cave floor, clinging to his back underneath his overshirt, which is also gross. stiles sighs through his nose, and with an unfortunate look, he lazily holds one arm out toward derek, fingers spread with his palm up, unsure why derek needs his arm, but not wary enough of his intentions to ask.
gingerly, he reaches back with his other hand to pinch at his t-shirt, pulling it away from his skin. the feeling is slightly weird, and the separation just leaves his skin feeling cold. he shivers, which also sucks and draws a terse little grunt out of him, and then very presses his fingertips against the muscles in his lower back, squinting up at derek. ]
... Ibuprofen. Please. You can have all of the money I have left, I don't care.
[ all of the money stiles has left, after everything he's already handed over to derek to put towards the new place, is going to have to go towards things like - an actual bed, some food, maybe some smaller furniture like a book case and/or a used love seat. toiletries. house stuff. but a couple dollars spent on pain killers isn't going to put them in the hole. ]
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Fuck off. I don't care about money. I care about you.
[ he brought the drugs, solely because stiles told him to, but - he doesn't exactly trust the drugs here to do what they say they will on the tin. not after the fort. spiking stiles with viagra while he's nursing bruised bones and a potentially bruised ego doesn't seem like the best way to end today, so he offers something else, instead.
stiles holds out his arm, and derek steps closer. he takes stiles' wrist in one hand, just to hold him steady, then grips his forearm with the other. they're still in public, and a quiet, scratchy part of derek's brain is telling him to at least drag stiles back into the cave and out of sight if they're going to do this, but he's impatient and he's worried and he doesn't want to waste any more time.
and then - derek takes stiles' pain. it pulls itself from his veins and coils up through derek's blood in dark, black tendrils, and derek gets tense and sweaty from the effort of it. he can feel the dull ache that stiles is going through transfer into his own body, and he holds stiles' arm a little tighter just in case he tries to pull away. derek closes his eyes when he needs the time to focus, and in twenty, maybe thirty seconds, the black ropes in his arm fade and blend into the rest of his bloodstream.
derek sighs. he lets go, running his thumb over stiles' wrist, soft and reassuring. he opens his eyes, looks at stiles, and he's a little sweaty, a little sore, but he's okay. stiles should be okay now, too. ]
You really scared me.
[ he's repeating himself, mumbling quietly under his breath, but. it's true. derek wets his lips, fishes his hand into his pocket. he's light-headed and sort of lethargic after taking stiles' pain, so he's moving slower than normal, but he fishes out the ibuprofen he promised and curls the packaging in stiles' hand. in case he still wants them for later. ]
C'mon. Home.
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but derek also tells him that he cares about him, and that kind of chases away any desire to argue. it's not as if it's the first time derek's ever said that he cares, but it still feels good. sometimes it's just nice to hear it, to be reminded.
stiles' mouth thins out, like he wants to be kind of mad at derek, but also like he's trying to stave off a pleased little smile. he breathes out a heavy sigh, and then - immediately starts to brace himself as derek closes both of his hands around his arm, one around his wrist, and the other around his forearm. he assumes derek is about to drag his ass through the city, glad that stiles is relatively okay (obviously), but still fed up with him in general. he opens his mouth, about to stammer through a panicky protest about how he's sore and stiff and power-walking is his current enemy—
—but none of that happens. stiles exhales slowly, like derek's pulling the breath out of him too. stiles has had his pain drained once before - by scott, after stiles punched the jeep's engine in a surge of pent up anger and frustration - but that was minor in comparison. not that stiles is dying, but it's easier to cope with a sore hand than it is to cope with a heavily bruised tailbone and a sore lower back.
the pain eases gradually but steadily, the tension slowly melting out of his muscles and making him feel a little woozy and warm with relief. stiles lowers his head slightly as he exhales, his gaze drifting to where derek's hand is curled around his arm, veins dark and black as they reach and fade toward his elbow. it takes stiles a couple of moments to remember that whatever pain derek takes from him, he has to experience himself.
stiles lifts his head up. he takes in the thin sheen of sweat, the mild tension, the effort derek is putting in just - to make him feel better. stiles immediately tries to pull his arm out of derek's grip, just as derek predicted he would, but he doesn't put nearly enough strength behind the tug of his shoulder. his tone is quietly urgent. ]
Derek, wait—
[ he lifts his free hand, but he catches himself before he touches derek, unsure if another point of skin-to-skin contact would just push more of his pain into him, faster. even as his palm hovers near derek's elbow, his other hand curled into a loose fist, stiles' posture starts to improve in increments. his shoulders square up out of their minor slouch, his lower spine straightens out as he breathes in deep, his eyes on derek, ready to do whatever he can to yank his arm free if he thinks, even for a second, that derek is pushing himself too far.
stiles still feels a little unsteady by the time derek opens his eyes, his own eyes flickering over derek's face, his expression a mix of quiet concern and mild affection, but most of all, gratitude. he feels - good. he feels better, and it's a weird feeling, just like it was weird when scott took the throbbing pain from his hand.
derek looks soft and lazy though, and he's quiet, and stiles feels a little guilty, both for scaring derek (enough that derek has mentioned it multiple times) and for being the reason he looks as worn out as he does now. stiles lets his hand settle at derek's elbow finally, cupping his hand around the back of it and letting his palm rub slowly up the back of his bicep and then back down. ]
Sorry, big guy. I just... wanted to check it out. Didn't really think it through. [ he squeezes just above derek's elbow before letting go, his voice still on the quieter side, but trying to sound a little brighter, attempting to reassure him. ] I'm okay, though. ... Thank you.
[ even though he lets derek go, stiles' hands kind of hover for a couple moments longer as derek starts to rifle around in his pocket for something. at first, stiles thinks derek's looking for his phone, but before stiles can drop his hands so he can slide it out of his pocket to give it to him, derek presses a single-dose packet of ibuprofen into his palm.
stiles blinks at it once, twice, uncurling his fingers from around the little foil square. when he'd asked about pain killers, stiles had assumed they'd just swing by the nearest convenience store on the way home to pick something up. but not only did derek show up without hesitation when stiles said he needed him, but he showed up with what stiles asked for, presumably to minimize the amount of time stiles would have to be in pain if it weren't for derek's neat little trick.
stiles glances up from the pills and pockets them as he looks at derek. the corners of his mouth pull a little, his smile faint at first. he steps forward and twists slightly and, as casually as he can manage, he slides one arm around derek's back and lifts derek's arm, pulling it around his shoulders. he doesn't make derek lean into him, doesn't assume or imply derek needs him for support at all, but he's there all the same, just in case. stiles starts to lead them away from the caves and back toward the center of the down, his pace slow and easy. ]
You wanna take the train or the elevator? Elevator might be faster if we catch it at the right time, but - you can sit down on the train.
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this is going to be one of those moments. he's going to remember this. he's going to see stiles' face when he tries to sleep, and then his heart's going to beat fast enough to keep him awake. he's going to roll over tonight, and stiles is going to be there on the other side of the bed, safe and warm, cuddled up against him. he's going to kiss stiles on the back of his neck, and he's going to want to tell him he loves him for the ten thousandth time since fort harmony, and he's going to quietly promise to himself that he'll do everything in his power to keep stiles safe. he's going to remember this.
it's. good. it's really good. derek's going to remember a lot of really good things, because of stiles. it's been a long time since his memories were good.
stiles touches his elbow, his arm. it's soothing and comforting and makes him feel loved, and after siphoning away so much pain, he doesn't have the wherewithal to stop himself from smiling. he just - grins, his smile splitting apart his face and making him look ten years younger, eyes crinkling at the edges and looking all that softer. stiles calls him big guy, and that actually kind of turns derek on more than it should, given that under the sweetness of the moment, he's still sort of annoyed this afternoon went the way that it did.
but it's fine. derek sways on his feet a little and starts to move, grin fading, but stiles intercepts before he can get too far, slinging his arm over his shoulders and offering himself as something to lean on. derek doesn't even notice that that's what he's doing, at first; their bodies fit so neatly and naturally together that he just feels like he's walking comfortably with his boyfriend, like normal couples do. stiles asks a question, and derek doesn't really have much of an opinion, but. he still finds a way to be annoyed. ]
I don't need to sit down. I don't-- ugh.
[ wait, hold on. he realizes all at once that stiles is trying to offer him support, as if he can't walk to the up on his own, or something. ugh. impatiently, derek slaps at stiles' arm and slinks out from underneath it, putting a couple of paces difference between them. all that softness, the sentimentality - that's gone, because now the pain he stole is genuinely starting to get on his nerves, and the ache in his bones is quickly pushing him back into that old grumpy shithead standard he's so well-known for. ]
I don't need to lean on you, either. You dick. I just want to go home.
[ from the direction he's walking, it looks like derek's heading back to the elevator, if only out of spite. he's slightly hunched over, hands in his pockets, and he's not walking as fast as he could. he's not worried - it's only pain, and he's not really injured, so once he gets home and lays down for a while, his body will rush through the healing process and make him feel better.
it's stiles, that he's worried about. the pain might be gone, but that's not going to knit his tailbone back together if it really is damaged. derek drags his feet up the street, one hand on his neck. he feels a little feverish, and that's annoying, more than anything else, because the patchy complexion and the sweat is only going to make stiles think he's suffering more after taking his pain than he is. derek heaves a very big, very canine sigh. ]
Let's - pick up the key to the new place. We can just...
[ derek pauses. he keeps walking. ]
It's not like we have a lot to move from the apartment. We could seriously just... get the key and go.
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as they walk, stiles cranes his head up an inch or two to look at derek, patiently waiting for his answer. they have a little ways to walk yet before they'll have to veer off in a specific direction toward whatever derek settles for, but even though stiles may not be in pain anymore, he's not in any particular rush to get anywhere fast, either. the only reason he's not hurting is because derek is now - which stiles is still kind of annoyed about, but it is what it is and stiles will just have to make it up to him somehow. he'll think about it later.
i don't need to sit down, derek says, and stiles opens his mouth to mmmaybe try and push his point, but he just wets his lips instead, licking at the corner of his mouth in a poor attempt to disguise a doubtful, shitty little smile. and then derek smacks at stiles' arm and ducks out from his loose and casual and definitely-not-supporting embrace and puts a little space between them with a handful of wide strides, and stiles just kind of - throws his arms up and rolls his entire head like he's already fed up. he huffs a sigh, dropping his arms so his hands thump lightly against the outside of his thighs, and just. stops.
for no particular reason, stiles stops and he watches derek continue to stomp off, veering in the direction of the elevators like he's going to prove some kind of point here, but stiles just feels... good. he feels a quiet sort of fondness, even after derek calls him a dick for wanting to take care of him - because they're going home, where they live, together. it's still relatively new, stiles living with derek, and sometimes stiles has to remind himself that it's real.
he jogs to catch up to derek, muscles still a little stiff and tight, but not sore, and pulls up at his side with a couple of heavier footsteps as he slows his approach. stiles almost shoves playfully at derek's arm in retaliation for calling him a dick, but catches himself when he notices his's posture and his complexion and his dewy skin. he frowns softly and curls his hand into a loose fist, lightly running his knuckles down derek's side instead before letting his hand fall away.
stiles is concerned, but he also doesn't want to be overbearing, and derek distracts him anyway with talk of their new place. his eyebrows furrow gently and then lift sharply, and he takes a few hurried steps ahead of derek, turning on his heel so he's walking backwards, but also able to face derek a little more head on.
derek... has a point. kind of. stiles doesn't really have a whole lot of stuff to haul - just his backpack, full of clothes and essential toiletries like his toothbrush and deodorant, his laptop and charger, a jar of mountain ash; his bat, and whatever clothes don't fit in his bag, and derek has... probably less, if stiles knows him at all.
stiles holds his hands out a little, taking a quick glance back over one shoulder to make sure he's not about to eat shit again before looking back at derek. ]
... Are you serious? [ his tone isn't accusatory or doubtful. it's quietly hopeful, if anything. ] I mean, I'm down, I'm ready, I'm so ready, but.
[ stiles takes another second or two to look derek over. his mouth twists subtly, and he sighs, anticipating a little push-back here. ]
Are you sure you don't want to just - relax first? I know you're like, a big bad - [ he lifts his hands slightly, spreads his fingers and curls them, bares his teeth to demonstrate werewolf, because he's still wary about saying it out loud here where anyone could hear him and anyway, the gesture itself is up for interpretation, ] - but... that fall really hurt, and I can tell you're feelin' it.
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back at the apartment, derek doesn't have too many belongings to call his own. no laptop, no baseball bat. he has a small, squirrelled away pile of medical supplies he's been trying to keep stocked since a week or so after the fort - he's gotta take good care of his human, after all - but stiles started that, he's just been maintaining it.
he doesn't have anything particularly precious to hold onto. the chessboard was his most important purchase, and he thinks of that as stiles' more than his own. everything precious in his life comes back to stiles, in some way.
anyway - it's fine. the less to carry, the sooner they can move. stiles says he's ready, and derek can hear the budding excitement in his voice, and maybe it's just because the pain is really starting to put him in a bad mood, but the but stiles ends his sentence with kinda ticks him off. derek meets the wry shift of stiles' mouth with a big, stone wall of narrow eyebrows and flaring nostrils. annoyed. annoying. this is annoying.
derek walks a little faster. yes, he's serious. yes, he's sure. yes, he's a big bad werewolf, however poorly and condescendingly stiles chooses to express that fact through spectacularly shitty charades. dismissively, derek shakes his head, holding his hand up like he's stopping stiles from talking. ]
I want a blowjob.
[ ... maybe a little direct, but. derek stares at stiles, dropping his hand. he can relax when they get there - he's pretty sure getting blown will be more relaxing than laying around in an apartment he hates, being miserable and worrying about all the ways stiles could have died in that cave if things had gone wrong, dwelling on the ache in his back. moving might be a hassle, but getting there and spending the night together matters more to him than anything else. he just wants to live somewhere private and quiet and alone with somebody very important to him. he'll keep arguing until stiles gives in, if he has to.
the elevator's just up ahead, and it doesn't take much time to get over there, though it looks like it's going to be a pretty long wait until it descends from the up. more exasperated than anything else, derek slumps sideways against the metal panel to the side of it, his shoulder propped up against the wall. he gives stiles his attention while he listens to the distant, drowned out hum of the elevator's machinery somewhere far, far above them, and he pushes himself to say more. ]
If you really think I need to rest before we move, then...
[ fine, he almost says, but no, he's still willing to argue until stiles caves. derek visually changes his mind and cuts himself off halfway through, scrunching up his face like he just doesn't fucking get why stiles is holding out on him. ]
Then - you're wrong? And kind of stupid?
[ he folds his arms over his chest, crosses one foot over his ankle. he leans more weight against the wall, and it's not because he's hurt, or because he needs it, even if that's actually sort of maybe the truth, partially, perhaps. he just likes to lean on things. ask anyone. ]
no subject
but derek puts his hand up, cutting stiles off before he can even begin, and stiles has maybe two seconds to look mildly offended at being interrupted before derek hits him with fucking - i want a blowjob, completely unexpected, though maybe stiles should have expected it. it's enough to stop him in his tracks for a moment though, enough to actually trip him up a little but not so much that he nearly ends up sprawled on the pavement.
he stands there, blinking after derek as he keeps walking, face kind of... dumb. he looks a little bit like the human equivalent of a blue screen, expression somewhat vacant, eyebrows lifted, eyes vaguely distant. stiles blinks, his stomach flipping subtly. pleasantly. anxiously, as he thinks about the new place - the living room, the wrap-around balcony, the island in the kitchen, picturing himself on his knees—
christ. ]
Hhhokay.
[ he sounds a little weak, a little squeaky, maybe slightly overwhelmed, but in a good way. stiles doesn't have to jog this time to catch back up to derek again, and he closes the space with a couple long, slightly-awkward strides, hands in his pockets once they reach the elevators. he stands at the opposite side of the doors across from derek, idly rocking backwards onto his heels before tilting his weight forward onto flat feet. he repeats this, knees bending slightly every time he rolls onto the balls of his feet.
derek leans against the wall. stiles tries to think of something witty to say, but he's still thinking about blowjobs and how - bad it's probably going to be for derek, because stiles is inexperienced and just because he wants to blow derek... pretty freaking badly, that doesn't mean he's going to be any good at it. it seems relatively straight-forward, but nothing is ever as easy as it seems in stiles' experience.
derek is fantastic at giving blowjobs, though. he's probably got standards.
stiles is just making himself nervous, so he finds something else to focus on so he can stop thinking about derek's dick in his mouth. and that something just happens to be derek himself, slumped against the wall as they wait for the elevator, which, by the sounds of it, is going to take an eternity before it makes it back down to their level.
he laughs. derek calls him stupid, tells him he's wrong, and stiles huffs an amused breath out through his nose, taking his hands out of his pockets and crossing his arms over his chest. his eyebrows arch, eyes narrowing near the corners as he looks derek over. ]
... We're standing here waiting for the elevator, which we both know won't make it back down here for at least another, what - fifteen, twenty minutes? And then it's another ten minute ride between here and there. That's thirty minutes of waiting, it would take maybe ten minutes to get to the train from here, another ten minutes to get back to the Up.
If you want a - blowjob so badly, then why are we taking the long way?
[ stiles unfolds one of his arms, holds his hand out the same way derek did to him, stopping him from interrupting. the question's rhetorical, he's not done. ]
It's because walking hurts more than standing still, doesn't it? And you're in enough pain that you need a break.
[ he gestures at derek with a sweeping hand, from his chest to his knees, and then back up, as if to emphasize his point. his point being that derek is leaning, and it's not as casual as derek might think, at least not to stiles. he softens a little, though, dropping his arms and turning slightly to lean his shoulders against the paneling, opposite from derek, head turned to look at him. ]
... You didn't have to take all of it, you know. I could have handled it.
[ but, you know. thank you. stiles presses his lips together for a moment, then smiles faintly. derek is too good for him, even if he gets on stiles' nerves like - all the fucking time. stiles lightly drums his hands on his thighs, knees locked and legs extended and braced. ]
Let's - get the keys, and we can move our stuff, but you're gonna take it easy when we get there. Don't argue with me. I will pin your ass down and make you relax if I have to. Don't try me.
[ as if stiles could actually hold derek down, but that's not the point, ok. ]