[ 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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no subject
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. ]