Shit, and I was just about to tear them off for you.
[Tate laughs - notably less sharp with the edges between what jokes he does and doesn't let roll off his shoulders with regards to his now flourishing sexuality. There's still some discovering to do, but he trusts Derek. Doesn't need to back away from plain facts - especially when they both know it's just for fun. Derek's got Stiles, and Tate... well, right now everything is fucking complicated for Tate.
Maybe he is something of a whore. Huh.]
Lame, no tree house? I'm going home.
[Much rather, he's right up behind Derek, slipping only a little on the hill but catching himself in his next stride. He likes the outdoors, and maybe not just because he can finally enjoy them again. He's always liked the freedom of the outside world, where things can constantly change but also... stay anchored and the same.]
[ Derek falls into a quiet for a few minutes that's not entirely uncharacteristic for him, but - still feels a little off, given how active he's been in the conversation. He just walks into the woods, deeper and deeper, and it's hard to know what he's thinking, until he finally speaks up again. ]
I can build you one. If you're serious. Might not be the prettiest thing in the world, but - you wouldn't technically be living with me if you slept there, so I don't think it'd break any rules.
[ They get to a point in the woods where there's not a lot of light filtering through the canopy, and this is where he wants to be, apparently. He stops walking, turns on his heel, gets a better look at Tate. ]
Just... you know. It'd - just be for us.
[ Just Derek, just Tate. Maybe Stiles, if Tate wants to invite him in. It's unspoken, but clear - Tate couldn't invite anyone over, just like he can't invite anyone to the beach. ]
[Tate follows Derek to the point where he pauses, and looks at his face again as if to read whether or not he means it - and it seems he does. He can't help the little jump of elation in his chest at the idea. He's always wanted a tree house, from the days of being little and having to make due with cardboard and Addie's crayons. He smiles, even though he doesn't mean to, evidently overjoyed. But then he realizes maybe that's not the reaction a seventeen year old should be having, and it fades. Briefly.]
I'd - yeah, that'd be cool. I can help, too. It can just be our project? Something to do together, out here. That works too, right?
Edited (idk why i did that) 2019-04-24 03:40 (UTC)
[ Before Tate sheepishly wipes away his smile in an attempt to look grown up, or something, Derek looks overjoyed, too. Again, it's obvious that he's just - so, so happy to see that Tate's happy, too. Overjoyed by the fact that this is working out, and that they're together, and that he gets to talk to Tate like normal, again. He's relieved that this treehouse idea actually went over okay, too, and he's gonna double down. Gonna make the best fucking tree house in the world. ]
I'd love that. That'd be... yeah. Yeah, I'd really love that.
[ He scratches the back of his neck, still smiling, his joy only fading away into something more neutral when the entire moment's passed. He just looks warm, though, like a low-burning candle. He's - really happy. He's glad this is working out. Fuck, he can't wait 'til July. ]
But, uh - okay, just... sit down, or something. I don't really know how to start this.
[Tate's smile still lingers, soft in the corners of his mouth as he does as instructed. Easier said than done, but he crunches over a few twigs and finds another toppled over tree trunk to tentatively sit down on - taking this as the moment to loosen his laces and empty out that extra sand. He gives his shoe a shake before putting it back on and slowly doing the same to the other foot.
His smile fades a little, a whisper of what it was and in a moment's time it's gone completely. Derek's got his full attention - though his brows pinch together because now he's not sure what to expect. Was Derek being serious about the emotional impact? He's listening, pale lashes blinking as he surveys Derek's figure.]
[ Alright, maybe asking someone to sit in the fucking woods was a bad idea. First mistake. Derek looks guilty. ]
So - okay.
[ Second mistake - standing over Tate feels kind of shitty, so he drops to his knees to sit in front of him. He's really not sure how to approach this, so after drumming on his thighs, he just. Talks. ]
I grew up in the woods. Woods just like these. They were important to me. It's where I spent most of my time with my sisters, before they died. It's where I would go when I was angry, or upset, or when I needed to run until I passed out. It's where I had my first kiss. I loved those woods.
[ He won't go into how important they were, exactly, but. Suffice to say, they kept him calm, back before anger kept him calm instead. Before he had Stiles. ]
I got the impression - I mean, maybe I'm wrong - but it felt like you thought... training wasn't helping you. Teaching you to control yourself like a werewolf or - exist as my beta, instead of just as my friend - that wasn't helping you? You don't want blood as your anchor, and maybe I was... forcing that on you. I don't...
[ He doesn't know. He scratches the back of his neck again, then keeps his fists against his thighs. ]
So - I'm not - I'm not taking the bite off the table. If you want it - we can still do that. Later, when we're signed, maybe, unless you want it sooner. But. [ a pause. ]
Just - all of that was to help you, but maybe in my eagerness to... show you how I lived, show you what it meant to be a wolf, I went too far. I still want to share that part of my life with you, but I don't want it to be - negative. I thought I could tell you about my family, and about my connection to the woods, because I still want to trust you with all of this, I just... don't want it... to suck. Or something. I want you to know about my life.
[ He wants Tate to know about him, because he's forcing him to trust him, and he can't afford to fuck up on that investment. But. Whatever. This all sounds really fucking stupid, now that he's laid it out there. ]
This is weird. Nevermind. We should go cave hunting.
[Tate listens and he gets it, sitting forward a bit and leaning to rest his elbows on his knees. He props up his chin on his linked fingers and looks at Derek, once again seeing him from this - upper angle and disliking but tolerating it for the sake of the moment. Derek has an affinity for the woods and that makes sense to Tate. And he talks about Tate's anchors, and... Tate sighs, lightly.
He leans back a little, looking at his hands and wringing them out as something to do while he contemplates his answer. It takes a moment before he looks back up at Derek, staring into his green eyes and finding a polarizing comfort in them - contrasted to the red, the complimentary hazel sedates and relaxes him.]
It's... It's not that it wasn't helping. It was.
[Tate liked it, at least.]
But I guess... I just don't want to hurt. To be the - the guy who has to think about blood or hurt himself to think straight. I'm tired of being the way I am and I want to fix it but I think part of that is... acknowledging that's how I am. Using it for now and... finding a better anchor when I'm in a better place.
[He hopes that makes sense; his brows pinch and he looks at Derek expectantly - he's trying to appease him still but he wants the reassurance as well. He doesn't like the way people talk about him, the way Derek and Stiles exchanged looks about him. Doesn't want to be the guy who inspires someone to step in front of their loved one to protect them but that is who he is.]
[ No, it - it makes sense. Derek looks at Tate with a certain softness on the edge of his expression, feeling his chest ache with a mix of guilt and shame. It takes a few false starts before he finds the right words to express how he's feeling. ]
I should've... known that. You basically told me as much.
[ Tate asked what you're supposed to do, if you don't like your anchor, and Derek had just said that anchors change with time. That's - kind of callous. He just told Tate to suck it up and deal with it, he let his eyes burn red as a shortcut to calm Tate down, he fucking - did a lot of fucking things, to this poor kid.
And he knows why he did it. Derek shifts on the grass, like he can't get comfortable. He picks at the ground with his fingernails, clenching his jaw until it hurts. ]
This is going to sound bad. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or...
[ Derek looks up, catches Tate's eye. He looks back down again, digging further into the dirt. Tate drew spirals in the sand, back when they trained at the beach. Felt kind of like fate. ]
I... was really, really fixated on the idea of having you as my pack. I know that I could build a pack with anyone, but - it had to be you? I wanted to be as close to you as possible, and I was determined to get that, no matter what. I think... maybe I wanted you to be dependant on me, because then you'd... always... be there. With me.
[ As his pack, as his family, as his second chance. He's seen all of Tate's pain up close, and he just - wanted to be the one to save him, and he wanted to do better by him than he did to the others. He still wants that, he wants everything, but he's trying to play it down a bit, because he promised not to put any pressure on Tate. He's doing his absolute best. ]
I think that I thought if I could help you with your anger, in whatever way I could, you'd... start to need me. I should have known I was hurting you. I never wanted to trap you into being with me, but maybe - maybe that's what I was doing. Subconsciously.
[ The way that he did to Erica, and Boyd, and Isaac. He preyed on what they needed. He did the same to Tate. He remembers when Tate called him kind, and it makes him want to laugh, but he doesn't have the energy. ]
I don't know. I'm sorry. It was fucked up. I'm fucked up.
[Tate doesn't know where to look; Derek's hand moves against the ground and it snags his attention, watching his hand pick at the dirt and intermittently looking back up to his face. He doesn't know what to think either - and hopes he's not too obvious in this, with the way his heart feels like it skips a beat as it lodges itself up in his throat. Maybe it will seem like nervousness or uncertainty, rather than a puddling of warmth in his gut at the concept of being wanted by someone so viscerally.
If he didn't know about Stiles, about how much Derek cared about Stiles, he might see this moment as more. But that's why he's perplexed - is it more? Intimacy isn't always sexual, and he wonders if that's different for wolves. If they can be like that, be like this, giving off confusing vibes that he only knows how to read into in a human way.
'I wanted to be as close to you as possible, and I was determined to get that, no matter what.'
Tate swallows hard, wondering how many people can say that about him and really mean it. Kavinsky claims him as his own because he's signed to him - does he really care about Tate this deeply, or is he just a stand in for Ronan? Derek's proving more likely than not that he's truthful in how Tate's got a unique spot in his life. In a way nobody really has.]
I think I liked that, though.
[Being dependent. Relying on Derek, needing him. Tate looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. Picking at his nails and then slowly rotating the ring around his thumb in even, counter-clockwise turns.]
You do help me. And I do need you. But I think - I think, as long as you need me too? It's okay. Right?
[ There's not a single, tiny part of Derek that reads Tate's skipped heartbeat as anything other than fear, or - maybe even disgust. Derek just admitted to being kind of selfish and manipulative, and there's no way Tate could come away from that without feeling something negative towards him. Derek rubs his bicep with his opposite hand, getting dirt on his sleeve without really thinking.
He's surprised, then, by Tate - staying. It makes his own chest feel tight, too. None of the others ever stayed. Nobody's ever stayed, other than Stiles. ]
I don't know. Maybe.
[ It'd be nice, if that were true, but - no. Derek cautiously shakes his head, looking ashamed himself for even entertaining the idea. Needing Tate and trying to keep Tate to himself led to that stupid fucking outburst he had in the hotel, and even though he wants him - Christ, he wants him, it's the most obvious thing in the world, he's fucking radiating that energy - he can't be that selfish again. Not if this is going to last, and certainly not if Tate's going to sign with him come July. He can't go into that contract being so... needy. ]
I don't think so. Most important thing is that you're happy. Safe. Doesn't matter if you need me or not.
[ Can't be controlling. Can't be demanding. That gets Erica killed. Tortured and locked away underground for an entire summer. That makes Isaac leave. Boyd's the only one who survived that part of him, and he didn't survive for long. ]
[It's an attempt at being reassuring, an admittance of - whatever this feeling is that he is trying to process. He smiles weakly, looking at Derek and feeling uncertain about what to do next. He wants to reach out and touch him but it doesn't feel right; it feels like it's what he wants but the situation, their situation doesn't call for it. So he keeps his hands to himself.]
I'd like it if you need me too, but - either way. I like being around you. I want to be around you. Working on the... the treehouse together can be something we can do. We can do other things, too. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.
I need us to be okay. More than anything. And we are. So.
[ So. He's good. He wants to work on that treehouse with Tate, too. He might get get impatient and finish it up as soon as possible, because having a physical, tangible way to show that he cares about Tate and wants to give him everything he can is something he feels like he needs, at this point, but. They should work on it together, first, at least for a little bit.
Derek exhales. Okay. ]
Anyway, uh - I wanted to tell you some more about my sisters. If... you're cool with that.
[He nods his head next to him, touching his fingers over the bark of the log he's sitting on. It's not the most comfortable thing but it feels better than asking Derek to stay low, squatting in the dirt. He doesn't like the imbalance, especially if they're trying to make this work on an even level.]
I want to hear about your family, all of it. Is that cool?
[ Man, that's - a hard ask. There were people in that fire Derek hasn't said the names of in years. Even Laura, who was always willing to reminisce on a happy memory of someone gone, wouldn't bring up the youngest kids taken by the fire. Derek's not sure if he'll be able to do it. ]
I'll - try.
[ And that's the most he can offer. Derek stands, unsure of himself, and sits apprehensively on the log besides Tate. It's creaky and feels like it can only barely support the weight of both of them, but even when Derek leans back and stretches out one leg to get more comfortable, it stays sturdy. ]
So, uh - I've told you... some things. Laura was my older sister. She took care of me after the fire, which - I've talked about that, too. We moved to New York, after everything. Tried to get as far away from the West Coast as we could, which was... my fault, I think. We had a ton of money, and I was scared of staying close to Kate, so.
[ So. He panicked, yelled at her, put her on blast, all while they were staying in a shitty motel the cops took them to until they could figure out what they wanted to do. They dumped Peter in a nursing home, and just - bailed. Because he was terrified Kate would find her, tell her that the Hale blood was on Derek's hands, and then finish the job. ]
She was great. Better than me. [ He tilts his head towards Tate. ] Sisters are always better than their brothers.
[Tate relaxes when Derek's next to him, offering him a crooked but mild smile - especially when he talks about sisters. Tate's gaze drifts away as if to ponder that, finding no real fault with the statement. He can so easily think of Addie and agree - she was the shining star between the two of them, and he still has no idea how his mother could always treat her as anything less than that.]
And then - six years of nothing. We had an apartment. Laura tried to live a normal life, but. Pretty sure I held her back from really committing. She worked, just to get out. She never talked to me about any friends she might have had. If she dated anyone, she didn't tell me.
[ Which was his fault. He was the quiet one, the one who was emotional, the one who never recovered. He was the one who made things hard for her by crying. Derek likes to blame Kate for burning so many of his emotions out of him, but the shame he feels over being a bad little brother to Laura might have hit just as hard. ]
Our entire family fucking died, you know? Eleven people, trapped in the basement of our home and burned to death. Chemical fires aren't pretty, they're - slow, and they're painful. Kate had resources, she'd been planning, she was-- she was methodical, and precise, and made absolutely certain that everyone in that house would die.
[ Derek pauses, gives himself a second. He exhales through his teeth, looking at his hands again when he talks. He picks out some dirt from underneath his fingernails, and his teeth feel too big for his mouth. ]
Peter didn't. My uncle. Went insane. Cora, my little sister? I told you about her, too. Stiles said... Stiles said she survived, and she went into hiding, down in South America. She waited, and waited, and waited to hear news of a surviving Hale, so she could come back, but.
[ Derek shrugs. He doesn't know a lot about this, because it's still a year or so into his future, but. ]
She found me. And I'm, you know. [ He gestures towards his face with one hand, lazy and demeaning, looking at Tate with tired neutrality. ] Not great. Didn't think I was worth the effort, apparently.
[Tate's features pinch together almost immediately, looking defensive of Derek - not able to see how someone could not see what he is. Who he is. He's known Derek to be perhaps a bit cold on the exterior but when he hears about the history, you can only fathom how he isn't worse off than he is. He doesn't understand how someone can't see how much he cares. How his sister couldn't.
Maybe he's projecting, but - people should like Derek regardless of what he is. What he's done.]
Don't talk about yourself that way. You're - You're a good person. You see the good in people and you try to bring it out. I don't care what you've done, you've paid your price for it. Anyone who can't see that... I...
[ Tate defends him, and it's... fuck, it's really, really nice to hear, and Derek's so visibly, genuinely touched that for a second, he doesn't know what to do with himself. He's happy and warm and there's a genuine, incredibly rare expression on his face of just - hopeful joy, but.
It doesn't last, and his expression falls. He doesn't say it, but - c'mon, man. He gives Tate a look. He just spent days pulling a ripcord on their relationship because-- what, because he was scared of watching Tate get hurt? He's not a good person. If that hadn't been establied after his reaction at the Hotel, it should be by now. ]
Doubt she'd agree with you.
[ Anyway. ]
Peter was my uncle - he was my best friend, for a while. The less said about him, the better. My dad - died when I was a kid, and my mom...
[ He - hopes he won't sound like a dick, given what he knows about Constance, and he speaks carefully, like he's testing a landmine. ]
She was the best. I was lucky. She died too young, but - everyone did, I guess.
[Tate shoots a look right back at Derek, silently berating him with black glassy eyes for not considering himself worth defending. He also doesn't like Cora very much, but keeps that to himself. He keeps on listening, feeling a pang in his chest when Derek mentions growing up without a father, but having an uncle figure in his life. And also having a mother who obviously cared, was compassionate and... everything he wished he had.
He doesn't get sad. Jealous, maybe, tinged around the edges but he ends up smiling weakly. Just like how he wished Ben Harmon could've been his dad for how much he cared about Violet, he's happy to hear someone cared about Derek too. It's unfortunate that what he did got her killed. That's something Derek has to live with, and it must be awful.]
She sounds nice. I'm sorry about it - it wasn't your fault, though. I know you think it is and maybe people have told you it was. But it wasn't. You're gonna still blame yourself no matter what I say but... I mean it. That - all of that? That's on that bitch, Kate. Not you.
[ Tate's look goes ignored, but that just means Derek's shooting a third, impassive look, perfectly crafted to look like he didn't notice Tate's response. It doesn't last, though. Tate keeps talking, tries to comfort him, and it's-- fine, it still feels good, but it's wrong, and it's not fair, and Tate doesn't... know. Nobody knows. ]
No, I mean - she didn't...
[ Derek looks at Tate for a long, long time. There are parts of this he hasn't said out loud, things he hasn't told anyone - not Laura, not Peter, not Stiles. Stiles is smart enough to know, even if Derek's never addressed it, and this is more of a poorly-kept secret, never brought up out of kindness, he thinks, but he's never... he hasn't ever told the full story.
And maybe he should. There's a brief flash of warning in the back of his mind - a memory of Stiles reminding him that Tate knows about his being a werewolf, the quiet, sensible breaching of the fact that Tate could share all of Derek's weaknesses if thing went south between them. If Stiles hadn't brought all that up, Derek might never have replied to Tate's text. Might have committed to cutting him out, like he said he was going to.
But that's - in the past. They need each other. Derek needs him. ]
We...
[ Derek looks at Tate. ]
We were together. Me and Kate. It wasn't-- I mean, I was fifteen, sixteen, she was in her twenties. I was-- I'd just killed my-- I was in grieving? It...
[ It wasn't normal. He doesn't want to say it was abusive, even if it was, because painting Kate to be a monster when the fire was ultimately his fault is just going to make Tate sympathize with him instead of vilify him like he deserves. It's obvious, though, that Derek's never talked about this before, from the way he stutters over himself and ]
She didn't just target my family because she knew me. She targeted my family because I specifically told her where they lived. She hunted us because I invited her to my doorstep.
[Tate stops himself from digging into that deeper, but he's watching every little breath Derek makes, studying his responses and his actions with a somewhat quicker beating heart. Derek's someone he's starting to feel he has too much in common with, almost. Like the darkness had a grip of him too - but he managed to prosper, to do good things and become a better person. Tate got lost to it. Maybe this really is his second chance.
He should be a bit more concerned by the way Derek explains the age gap, so he focuses his attention there instead. He'd figured that Derek had known her, maybe, and been exploited. Somehow this seems worse, but proves his point. Derek harbors too much guilt for this when it was all on that bitch. He looks down at their hands and touches his to Derek's. Only thing he knows how to really do, to comfort someone.]
She's - That's predatory. It's bad, I'm sorry. You said, you said before? She was a hunter? Is that what they do? That's... awful. They're awful.
[ He's getting in his head, stumbling over all the shit he's kept quiet the past decade of his life. This isn't where he wanted this conversation to go, and Derek's a little pale when he holds up his hand like he's silently telling Tate to just-- to not, to just give him a second.
But Tate doesn't dig because that's just the kind of person Tate is; caring and kind and unobtrusive, the kind of person that Derek needs to spill his heart out to in order to keep this going, in order to prove that he's sorry, and that he wants this to work, and that everything will be okay if he just tries to be better from here on out. Better for Tate. For Erica, for Boyd. For everyone. He just needs to be better, more open, more trusting. If he'd trusted Stiles sooner back home, maybe everyone would still be okay. If he trusts Tate now, then... ]
Hunters kill werewolves. They call us rabid dogs. Vermin. Kate wanted to eradicate us. I was the idiot who didn't see her for who she was.
[ a sharp breath, and then - ]
I haven't ever... I don't talk about this. About Kate, about-- [ about how it's his fault, about how he should have known better. ]
Just - sometimes people make mistakes that are irrevocably, dangerously permanent, and no matter how hard they try to get away from them, they - can't. I have a lot of those, and - I don't know what happened between you and Violet, but I'm sure you feel as if you've made a mistake like that, too. Kate was my worst.
I won't tell. I promise, this is just - just between us.
[He doesn't know what it means if Derek's never told someone like Stiles this, but it makes him feel unmistakably important to hear it if that really is the case. He doesn't know how to read heartbeats or signals, a lot of body language or anything like that. Derek could lie to him and manipulate him and he wouldn't know - but the look on his face, the tone of his voice, it really lends itself to him telling the truth. And Tate likes that. Tate feels important.
Tate squeezes Derek's hand and God, does what he says ever speak to him. Tate's alive with - connection. Eyes wide, expressive and understanding. He offers sympathy with a tilted head and a look of comfort. The things he'd want poured back into him if he were admitting something so similar - projecting himself here more than ever.]
I've made mistakes. I know... I know we can't ever take them back. But - But we can change for the better? That's all I want to do. To be better. To do good, after... after what I've done. To fix what I can. That's all we can do.
[ Derek just - breathes it in. The sympathy, the perceived sincerity, the complete and total lack of judgment. The understanding. The kindness. He needed this. He needed this, but fuck, he sure as shit didn't deserve it.
He nods, emphatically, a display of unbridled, enthusiastic emotion that he doesn't ever really let slip between the cracks of his constantly practiced stoicism. Tate sets his hand against his own and Derek quickly squeezes back, putting his other palm over the back of Tate's knuckles to just - hold him with both, hold him as tight as he can. He's still nodding, because he doesn't have the words to express how he's feeling - that this is part of why Tate's so important to him, and that this is why he's ultimately too afraid to lose him.
Tate's angry, and he's made mistakes, and he doesn't trust himself, and Derek already knew all that, and he just-- he doesn't have a choice. He can't lose him. Can't ever give up on him. Couldn't bear it if people gave up on him. Won't be able to bear it, when it happens back home. ]
I know - you're doing better. I've seen it. You're caring, and you're kind, and you're a good, good person. I'll remind you of that for the rest of my fucking life, if I've got to.
[It's an affectionately said dickhead, while flitting his eyes from Derek's down to their hands. Again, they're linked, and Tate's relaxed about it - letting Derek hold on to his hand with another squeeze made. Derek cares about him and it makes Tate feel like he did good, getting this relationship back on track. July will be messy but he can make it work, with Derek like this. Derek who - who sounds like he really can care for him despite his flaws.]
I like that you think I'm a good person. Makes me want to believe it, too.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[Tate laughs - notably less sharp with the edges between what jokes he does and doesn't let roll off his shoulders with regards to his now flourishing sexuality. There's still some discovering to do, but he trusts Derek. Doesn't need to back away from plain facts - especially when they both know it's just for fun. Derek's got Stiles, and Tate... well, right now everything is fucking complicated for Tate.
Maybe he is something of a whore. Huh.]
Lame, no tree house? I'm going home.
[Much rather, he's right up behind Derek, slipping only a little on the hill but catching himself in his next stride. He likes the outdoors, and maybe not just because he can finally enjoy them again. He's always liked the freedom of the outside world, where things can constantly change but also... stay anchored and the same.]
no subject
I can build you one. If you're serious. Might not be the prettiest thing in the world, but - you wouldn't technically be living with me if you slept there, so I don't think it'd break any rules.
[ They get to a point in the woods where there's not a lot of light filtering through the canopy, and this is where he wants to be, apparently. He stops walking, turns on his heel, gets a better look at Tate. ]
Just... you know. It'd - just be for us.
[ Just Derek, just Tate. Maybe Stiles, if Tate wants to invite him in. It's unspoken, but clear - Tate couldn't invite anyone over, just like he can't invite anyone to the beach. ]
no subject
I'd - yeah, that'd be cool. I can help, too. It can just be our project? Something to do together, out here. That works too, right?
no subject
I'd love that. That'd be... yeah. Yeah, I'd really love that.
[ He scratches the back of his neck, still smiling, his joy only fading away into something more neutral when the entire moment's passed. He just looks warm, though, like a low-burning candle. He's - really happy. He's glad this is working out. Fuck, he can't wait 'til July. ]
But, uh - okay, just... sit down, or something. I don't really know how to start this.
no subject
His smile fades a little, a whisper of what it was and in a moment's time it's gone completely. Derek's got his full attention - though his brows pinch together because now he's not sure what to expect. Was Derek being serious about the emotional impact? He's listening, pale lashes blinking as he surveys Derek's figure.]
I'm... listening.
no subject
So - okay.
[ Second mistake - standing over Tate feels kind of shitty, so he drops to his knees to sit in front of him. He's really not sure how to approach this, so after drumming on his thighs, he just. Talks. ]
I grew up in the woods. Woods just like these. They were important to me. It's where I spent most of my time with my sisters, before they died. It's where I would go when I was angry, or upset, or when I needed to run until I passed out. It's where I had my first kiss. I loved those woods.
[ He won't go into how important they were, exactly, but. Suffice to say, they kept him calm, back before anger kept him calm instead. Before he had Stiles. ]
I got the impression - I mean, maybe I'm wrong - but it felt like you thought... training wasn't helping you. Teaching you to control yourself like a werewolf or - exist as my beta, instead of just as my friend - that wasn't helping you? You don't want blood as your anchor, and maybe I was... forcing that on you. I don't...
[ He doesn't know. He scratches the back of his neck again, then keeps his fists against his thighs. ]
So - I'm not - I'm not taking the bite off the table. If you want it - we can still do that. Later, when we're signed, maybe, unless you want it sooner. But. [ a pause. ]
Just - all of that was to help you, but maybe in my eagerness to... show you how I lived, show you what it meant to be a wolf, I went too far. I still want to share that part of my life with you, but I don't want it to be - negative. I thought I could tell you about my family, and about my connection to the woods, because I still want to trust you with all of this, I just... don't want it... to suck. Or something. I want you to know about my life.
[ He wants Tate to know about him, because he's forcing him to trust him, and he can't afford to fuck up on that investment. But. Whatever. This all sounds really fucking stupid, now that he's laid it out there. ]
This is weird. Nevermind. We should go cave hunting.
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He leans back a little, looking at his hands and wringing them out as something to do while he contemplates his answer. It takes a moment before he looks back up at Derek, staring into his green eyes and finding a polarizing comfort in them - contrasted to the red, the complimentary hazel sedates and relaxes him.]
It's... It's not that it wasn't helping. It was.
[Tate liked it, at least.]
But I guess... I just don't want to hurt. To be the - the guy who has to think about blood or hurt himself to think straight. I'm tired of being the way I am and I want to fix it but I think part of that is... acknowledging that's how I am. Using it for now and... finding a better anchor when I'm in a better place.
[He hopes that makes sense; his brows pinch and he looks at Derek expectantly - he's trying to appease him still but he wants the reassurance as well. He doesn't like the way people talk about him, the way Derek and Stiles exchanged looks about him. Doesn't want to be the guy who inspires someone to step in front of their loved one to protect them but that is who he is.]
That works, right?
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I should've... known that. You basically told me as much.
[ Tate asked what you're supposed to do, if you don't like your anchor, and Derek had just said that anchors change with time. That's - kind of callous. He just told Tate to suck it up and deal with it, he let his eyes burn red as a shortcut to calm Tate down, he fucking - did a lot of fucking things, to this poor kid.
And he knows why he did it. Derek shifts on the grass, like he can't get comfortable. He picks at the ground with his fingernails, clenching his jaw until it hurts. ]
This is going to sound bad. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, or...
[ Derek looks up, catches Tate's eye. He looks back down again, digging further into the dirt. Tate drew spirals in the sand, back when they trained at the beach. Felt kind of like fate. ]
I... was really, really fixated on the idea of having you as my pack. I know that I could build a pack with anyone, but - it had to be you? I wanted to be as close to you as possible, and I was determined to get that, no matter what. I think... maybe I wanted you to be dependant on me, because then you'd... always... be there. With me.
[ As his pack, as his family, as his second chance. He's seen all of Tate's pain up close, and he just - wanted to be the one to save him, and he wanted to do better by him than he did to the others. He still wants that, he wants everything, but he's trying to play it down a bit, because he promised not to put any pressure on Tate. He's doing his absolute best. ]
I think that I thought if I could help you with your anger, in whatever way I could, you'd... start to need me. I should have known I was hurting you. I never wanted to trap you into being with me, but maybe - maybe that's what I was doing. Subconsciously.
[ The way that he did to Erica, and Boyd, and Isaac. He preyed on what they needed. He did the same to Tate. He remembers when Tate called him kind, and it makes him want to laugh, but he doesn't have the energy. ]
I don't know. I'm sorry. It was fucked up. I'm fucked up.
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If he didn't know about Stiles, about how much Derek cared about Stiles, he might see this moment as more. But that's why he's perplexed - is it more? Intimacy isn't always sexual, and he wonders if that's different for wolves. If they can be like that, be like this, giving off confusing vibes that he only knows how to read into in a human way.
'I wanted to be as close to you as possible, and I was determined to get that, no matter what.'
Tate swallows hard, wondering how many people can say that about him and really mean it. Kavinsky claims him as his own because he's signed to him - does he really care about Tate this deeply, or is he just a stand in for Ronan? Derek's proving more likely than not that he's truthful in how Tate's got a unique spot in his life. In a way nobody really has.]
I think I liked that, though.
[Being dependent. Relying on Derek, needing him. Tate looks down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. Picking at his nails and then slowly rotating the ring around his thumb in even, counter-clockwise turns.]
You do help me. And I do need you. But I think - I think, as long as you need me too? It's okay. Right?
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He's surprised, then, by Tate - staying. It makes his own chest feel tight, too. None of the others ever stayed. Nobody's ever stayed, other than Stiles. ]
I don't know. Maybe.
[ It'd be nice, if that were true, but - no. Derek cautiously shakes his head, looking ashamed himself for even entertaining the idea. Needing Tate and trying to keep Tate to himself led to that stupid fucking outburst he had in the hotel, and even though he wants him - Christ, he wants him, it's the most obvious thing in the world, he's fucking radiating that energy - he can't be that selfish again. Not if this is going to last, and certainly not if Tate's going to sign with him come July. He can't go into that contract being so... needy. ]
I don't think so. Most important thing is that you're happy. Safe. Doesn't matter if you need me or not.
[ Can't be controlling. Can't be demanding. That gets Erica killed. Tortured and locked away underground for an entire summer. That makes Isaac leave. Boyd's the only one who survived that part of him, and he didn't survive for long. ]
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[It's an attempt at being reassuring, an admittance of - whatever this feeling is that he is trying to process. He smiles weakly, looking at Derek and feeling uncertain about what to do next. He wants to reach out and touch him but it doesn't feel right; it feels like it's what he wants but the situation, their situation doesn't call for it. So he keeps his hands to himself.]
I'd like it if you need me too, but - either way. I like being around you. I want to be around you. Working on the... the treehouse together can be something we can do. We can do other things, too. Whatever you want. Whatever you need.
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[ He doesn't want... to fuck up again. ]
I need us to be okay. More than anything. And we are. So.
[ So. He's good. He wants to work on that treehouse with Tate, too. He might get get impatient and finish it up as soon as possible, because having a physical, tangible way to show that he cares about Tate and wants to give him everything he can is something he feels like he needs, at this point, but. They should work on it together, first, at least for a little bit.
Derek exhales. Okay. ]
Anyway, uh - I wanted to tell you some more about my sisters. If... you're cool with that.
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[He nods his head next to him, touching his fingers over the bark of the log he's sitting on. It's not the most comfortable thing but it feels better than asking Derek to stay low, squatting in the dirt. He doesn't like the imbalance, especially if they're trying to make this work on an even level.]
I want to hear about your family, all of it. Is that cool?
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I'll - try.
[ And that's the most he can offer. Derek stands, unsure of himself, and sits apprehensively on the log besides Tate. It's creaky and feels like it can only barely support the weight of both of them, but even when Derek leans back and stretches out one leg to get more comfortable, it stays sturdy. ]
So, uh - I've told you... some things. Laura was my older sister. She took care of me after the fire, which - I've talked about that, too. We moved to New York, after everything. Tried to get as far away from the West Coast as we could, which was... my fault, I think. We had a ton of money, and I was scared of staying close to Kate, so.
[ So. He panicked, yelled at her, put her on blast, all while they were staying in a shitty motel the cops took them to until they could figure out what they wanted to do. They dumped Peter in a nursing home, and just - bailed. Because he was terrified Kate would find her, tell her that the Hale blood was on Derek's hands, and then finish the job. ]
She was great. Better than me. [ He tilts his head towards Tate. ] Sisters are always better than their brothers.
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I can agree with that. They are.
[Rose - well, Rose had no screen time. So.]
... And after that?
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And then - six years of nothing. We had an apartment. Laura tried to live a normal life, but. Pretty sure I held her back from really committing. She worked, just to get out. She never talked to me about any friends she might have had. If she dated anyone, she didn't tell me.
[ Which was his fault. He was the quiet one, the one who was emotional, the one who never recovered. He was the one who made things hard for her by crying. Derek likes to blame Kate for burning so many of his emotions out of him, but the shame he feels over being a bad little brother to Laura might have hit just as hard. ]
Our entire family fucking died, you know? Eleven people, trapped in the basement of our home and burned to death. Chemical fires aren't pretty, they're - slow, and they're painful. Kate had resources, she'd been planning, she was-- she was methodical, and precise, and made absolutely certain that everyone in that house would die.
[ Derek pauses, gives himself a second. He exhales through his teeth, looking at his hands again when he talks. He picks out some dirt from underneath his fingernails, and his teeth feel too big for his mouth. ]
Peter didn't. My uncle. Went insane. Cora, my little sister? I told you about her, too. Stiles said... Stiles said she survived, and she went into hiding, down in South America. She waited, and waited, and waited to hear news of a surviving Hale, so she could come back, but.
[ Derek shrugs. He doesn't know a lot about this, because it's still a year or so into his future, but. ]
She found me. And I'm, you know. [ He gestures towards his face with one hand, lazy and demeaning, looking at Tate with tired neutrality. ] Not great. Didn't think I was worth the effort, apparently.
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[Tate's features pinch together almost immediately, looking defensive of Derek - not able to see how someone could not see what he is. Who he is. He's known Derek to be perhaps a bit cold on the exterior but when he hears about the history, you can only fathom how he isn't worse off than he is. He doesn't understand how someone can't see how much he cares. How his sister couldn't.
Maybe he's projecting, but - people should like Derek regardless of what he is. What he's done.]
Don't talk about yourself that way. You're - You're a good person. You see the good in people and you try to bring it out. I don't care what you've done, you've paid your price for it. Anyone who can't see that... I...
[He breathes out hard, evidently - emotional.]
I don't like that. They - It's not cool.
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It doesn't last, and his expression falls. He doesn't say it, but - c'mon, man. He gives Tate a look. He just spent days pulling a ripcord on their relationship because-- what, because he was scared of watching Tate get hurt? He's not a good person. If that hadn't been establied after his reaction at the Hotel, it should be by now. ]
Doubt she'd agree with you.
[ Anyway. ]
Peter was my uncle - he was my best friend, for a while. The less said about him, the better. My dad - died when I was a kid, and my mom...
[ He - hopes he won't sound like a dick, given what he knows about Constance, and he speaks carefully, like he's testing a landmine. ]
She was the best. I was lucky. She died too young, but - everyone did, I guess.
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He doesn't get sad. Jealous, maybe, tinged around the edges but he ends up smiling weakly. Just like how he wished Ben Harmon could've been his dad for how much he cared about Violet, he's happy to hear someone cared about Derek too. It's unfortunate that what he did got her killed. That's something Derek has to live with, and it must be awful.]
She sounds nice. I'm sorry about it - it wasn't your fault, though. I know you think it is and maybe people have told you it was. But it wasn't. You're gonna still blame yourself no matter what I say but... I mean it. That - all of that? That's on that bitch, Kate. Not you.
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No, I mean - she didn't...
[ Derek looks at Tate for a long, long time. There are parts of this he hasn't said out loud, things he hasn't told anyone - not Laura, not Peter, not Stiles. Stiles is smart enough to know, even if Derek's never addressed it, and this is more of a poorly-kept secret, never brought up out of kindness, he thinks, but he's never... he hasn't ever told the full story.
And maybe he should. There's a brief flash of warning in the back of his mind - a memory of Stiles reminding him that Tate knows about his being a werewolf, the quiet, sensible breaching of the fact that Tate could share all of Derek's weaknesses if thing went south between them. If Stiles hadn't brought all that up, Derek might never have replied to Tate's text. Might have committed to cutting him out, like he said he was going to.
But that's - in the past. They need each other. Derek needs him. ]
We...
[ Derek looks at Tate. ]
We were together. Me and Kate. It wasn't-- I mean, I was fifteen, sixteen, she was in her twenties. I was-- I'd just killed my-- I was in grieving? It...
[ It wasn't normal. He doesn't want to say it was abusive, even if it was, because painting Kate to be a monster when the fire was ultimately his fault is just going to make Tate sympathize with him instead of vilify him like he deserves. It's obvious, though, that Derek's never talked about this before, from the way he stutters over himself and ]
She didn't just target my family because she knew me. She targeted my family because I specifically told her where they lived. She hunted us because I invited her to my doorstep.
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[Tate stops himself from digging into that deeper, but he's watching every little breath Derek makes, studying his responses and his actions with a somewhat quicker beating heart. Derek's someone he's starting to feel he has too much in common with, almost. Like the darkness had a grip of him too - but he managed to prosper, to do good things and become a better person. Tate got lost to it. Maybe this really is his second chance.
He should be a bit more concerned by the way Derek explains the age gap, so he focuses his attention there instead. He'd figured that Derek had known her, maybe, and been exploited. Somehow this seems worse, but proves his point. Derek harbors too much guilt for this when it was all on that bitch. He looks down at their hands and touches his to Derek's. Only thing he knows how to really do, to comfort someone.]
She's - That's predatory. It's bad, I'm sorry. You said, you said before? She was a hunter? Is that what they do? That's... awful. They're awful.
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[ He's getting in his head, stumbling over all the shit he's kept quiet the past decade of his life. This isn't where he wanted this conversation to go, and Derek's a little pale when he holds up his hand like he's silently telling Tate to just-- to not, to just give him a second.
But Tate doesn't dig because that's just the kind of person Tate is; caring and kind and unobtrusive, the kind of person that Derek needs to spill his heart out to in order to keep this going, in order to prove that he's sorry, and that he wants this to work, and that everything will be okay if he just tries to be better from here on out. Better for Tate. For Erica, for Boyd. For everyone. He just needs to be better, more open, more trusting. If he'd trusted Stiles sooner back home, maybe everyone would still be okay. If he trusts Tate now, then... ]
Hunters kill werewolves. They call us rabid dogs. Vermin. Kate wanted to eradicate us. I was the idiot who didn't see her for who she was.
[ a sharp breath, and then - ]
I haven't ever... I don't talk about this. About Kate, about-- [ about how it's his fault, about how he should have known better. ]
Just - sometimes people make mistakes that are irrevocably, dangerously permanent, and no matter how hard they try to get away from them, they - can't. I have a lot of those, and - I don't know what happened between you and Violet, but I'm sure you feel as if you've made a mistake like that, too. Kate was my worst.
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[He doesn't know what it means if Derek's never told someone like Stiles this, but it makes him feel unmistakably important to hear it if that really is the case. He doesn't know how to read heartbeats or signals, a lot of body language or anything like that. Derek could lie to him and manipulate him and he wouldn't know - but the look on his face, the tone of his voice, it really lends itself to him telling the truth. And Tate likes that. Tate feels important.
Tate squeezes Derek's hand and God, does what he says ever speak to him. Tate's alive with - connection. Eyes wide, expressive and understanding. He offers sympathy with a tilted head and a look of comfort. The things he'd want poured back into him if he were admitting something so similar - projecting himself here more than ever.]
I've made mistakes. I know... I know we can't ever take them back. But - But we can change for the better? That's all I want to do. To be better. To do good, after... after what I've done. To fix what I can. That's all we can do.
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He nods, emphatically, a display of unbridled, enthusiastic emotion that he doesn't ever really let slip between the cracks of his constantly practiced stoicism. Tate sets his hand against his own and Derek quickly squeezes back, putting his other palm over the back of Tate's knuckles to just - hold him with both, hold him as tight as he can. He's still nodding, because he doesn't have the words to express how he's feeling - that this is part of why Tate's so important to him, and that this is why he's ultimately too afraid to lose him.
Tate's angry, and he's made mistakes, and he doesn't trust himself, and Derek already knew all that, and he just-- he doesn't have a choice. He can't lose him. Can't ever give up on him. Couldn't bear it if people gave up on him. Won't be able to bear it, when it happens back home. ]
I know - you're doing better. I've seen it. You're caring, and you're kind, and you're a good, good person. I'll remind you of that for the rest of my fucking life, if I've got to.
[ Just - stay, and do the same for him. ]
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[It's an affectionately said dickhead, while flitting his eyes from Derek's down to their hands. Again, they're linked, and Tate's relaxed about it - letting Derek hold on to his hand with another squeeze made. Derek cares about him and it makes Tate feel like he did good, getting this relationship back on track. July will be messy but he can make it work, with Derek like this. Derek who - who sounds like he really can care for him despite his flaws.]
I like that you think I'm a good person. Makes me want to believe it, too.
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