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.
[ Derek smiles, wry and lightly sarcastic. For a second, he's fine with just sitting here, but he pulls his hands back eventually, taking a long, steadying breath. Keep building a pack, keep making amends, focus on how good things are going to be come July. That's all he's gotta do. Things are gonna be okay. ]
Don't let me be wrong about you.
[ He's quiet, when he says this, maybe a little cautious, but - certainly not unkind. There's no way he's wrong about Tate.
There are other things he wanted to cover, but he's burning himself out on shovelling all this serious shit down Tate's throat, and the thought of diving too deep into the rest of his family is - rough. Derek kicks his heel in the dirt, looks at Tate, then to the woods around them, going out of his way to adopt a lighter posture, a more casual tone of voice. It's forced, but. Light and casual is always forced, with Derek. ]
Pick a spot. [ He gestures, vaguely, at the woods around them. ] If we're gonna build you a treehouse, may as well start planning.
How... good of a tree house are we talking? First off, quality assurance is required.
[He laughs, trying to go with the lighter tone of the conversation. He rests his own hands in his lap once Derek takes his away, and flexes his fingers lightly as if in a nervous twitch. He breathes in deep and looks around, surveying the trees for once that look solid enough - trying to decide what he really wants. It's easier to think about this than anything else, like letting down Derek or realizing how deep he's dug the hole for himself now.]
I'd like it if it kinda lead off a hill, for easier access. You know, with supports or something? I don't know. I'll have to look into it, unless you've got ideas. A vision.
[He's quiet for another moment.]
I like it out here. I wanna spend time here, so. We better get to work on it fast.
[ Derek's not going to brag about how good he is at carpentry, so, he just shrugs. He's, uh. He's only sort of a basic bitch when it comes to carpentry, but he learned some basics from his dad, and there were some publicly accessible plans of the city that he went through after learning just how involved the Hale family was in establishing beacon hills, so. He could probably... build a tree house. In theory.
Probably. ]
I want it to be practical. Defensible. You need to be able to get out fast, if another 5 AM kidnapping happens when you're staying the night.
[ Uh - not that Tate has to spend the night in this thing, but, you know. If he wanted to, having a way out seems smart. High ground sounds good, too, but that was kinda, you know. Expected. Tree house. Derek twists his mouth a little, thinking. ]
But - also - cool? I want... to build you something... cool.
[Tate tries to hide his smile by rubbing his hand over his face, but it shows through in his eyes nonetheless. So he drops his hand back down, nodding his head. Derek's got a good point about escapes and safety and all that, but when it really comes down to it? Aside from being a safe haven and somewhere to linger, clear his head and daydream? Fuck yeah, it better be cool.]
I want it to be cool, too. But you know, also not wanna fall through a shitty floorboard so. We'll have to make sure it's all of those things. I don't really have money, or much to contribute - but I want to. Don't - Don't tell me you're doing this for me and say that's it. I wanna pay you back, like...
[Tate loaf hands. It's infectious.]
I can do odd jobs or something, for you? Clean up the beach, not that anyone ever goes on it. I don't really know how to do laundry, but I used to help the maid take it off the line when I was little?
[ Oh, those are loaf hands. Derek snorts, a little undignified, shaking his head. Been spending too much time with Stiles. It's enough of a distraction to stop him from immediately jumping down Tate's throat and telling him to shut the fuck up, because he doesn't need to do anything. That being saaaaaaaid... ]
I'm not doing this for you. I mean, I am, but - having you out here means I get to see you more, so. This is an entirely selfish endeavour.
[ But - letting Tate do things will get him over more often, too, so. He's not saying no. ]
If helping out will make you feel better, though - fine, I guess? I don't care what you do. Laundry, cooking, cleaning. Being on call for 24/7 blowjobs. Pick something.
We already know laundry isn't my strong point. Cooking either - so I guess I'm scrubbing floors and staying on my knees. What a hard knock life.
[They talk about blowjobs far too much for it to be even a joke anymore, but Tate will never let it die. Joking like this makes things feel still stupid and airy, opposed to serious and drawn out. Goes beyond ever thinking Derek was hot now to just - sort of being like a second greeting. Tate gives Derek's shoulder another little shove, and snickers.]
I'm actually shit at cleaning, too. We had a maid, like I said. The only thing I'm not bad at there actually is the blowjobs. Guess that decides it for me.
[ Derek rocks back when Tate shoves him, putting his other foot in the ground to tip from falling over. Kid's come a long way since he was screaming in his face during orientation, afraid of being touched by another guy, needing to be hurt just to get through it. There's a second of kind of - uncomfortable nausea in his stomach that he can't really put a finger on, and he chalks it up to how fucked up it is that Tate have to die and be brought to a city as screwed up as this one before he became decently comfortable in his sexuality.
[That makes Tate laugh loudly, hand slapping lightly against his knee before he gets to his feet to follow suit with whatever Derek's doing. He walks a few feet over to touch his fingers to the bark of a tree, tracing his finger down it - curious, maybe, to feel what it feels like after almost twenty years inside a house. He hasn't been around many wooded areas since then, but that's changing. It all is.
He turns around and rests his back against the tree, arms tucked across his chest. He looks at Derek for a long moment, before glancing upward again. He can see a little sliver of sky here and there, through the tops of the trees. He can even smell the outdoors, and it feels like the first time he's had a moment to really... absorb it all.]
I'm sure there's a plentiful supply of hardwood in the city. Maybe even some soft.
[ It's nice, seeing Tate so happy. This kind of relaxed, easy joy is exactly the kind of feeling Derek wants to bring him, and that smile, that laugh, it's all contagious. When Tate looks at him, Derek looks back, and there's - something there. A sense of purpose, maybe, or - something close to it. There's so much pure, hopeful affection in the way Derek looks at him, and for a second, Derek wonders if-- if that kind of affection, that kind of open, emotional connection, is what he should have given his pack back home. If that's the difference, between them and Tate.
Maybe it's not that. Maybe it's something else. Derek drops his voice low, like he doesn't want Tate to hear him talk, but - not low enough for Tate to miss what he says. ]
You're gonna get me in trouble, one of these days.
[ And then, suddenly, Derek's eyes snap up. He tilts his head, looks up the tree that Tate's standing under, and - hm. Hmm. ]
[Tate hesitates a second before pushing off of the tree trunk, looking upward and turning around to face it. Pretty tall, but looks relatively sturdy - he flexes his fingers and raises his brows. He won't really know until he tries, but he's got a vague sense of confidence that he might at least make it some of the way up. Only, of course, first:]
[ A vague sense of confidence describes Tate's typical state of mind pretty fucking well, if Derek's being honest. Derek's kind of a shithead, because even though he was the one came up with the idea of climbing that tree in the first place, he's rolling his eyes and acting put out when Tate needs help.
But, whatever. Fine. He walks over, shoves Tate on the shoulderblade, setting his hands on his waist. There's no real warning, he just - picks him the fuck up and lifts him high and fast, like he barely weighs a thing, putting him in reach of that first branch. ]
[Tate flails somewhat when lifted like a child, reaching to grab the branch and kick his leg out against the tree trunk to help scramble upward. It doesn't work at first because he has no momentum, so his fingers start to slide and he'll fall back to the ground if Derek happens to let go of him. If he doesn't, Tate will just smack at his hands until he does.]
This isn't a boost, dipshit. I'm not a fucking kid, I meant - like. A step up?
[ Derek likes to think he has a decent tolerance for stupid bullshit, so for a good two, maybe three seconds, he takes those flailing hand-slaps like a champ. The thing is, Derek likes to think a lot of things about himself that aren't true. He flares up with a grumpy impatience and drops Tate back onto the ground, looking mildly like a dog that just got its food bowl overturned.
This was a stupid idea and he already hates it. ]
Jesus. Fine. Come on.
[ But. Fuck. Whatever. He moves in front of Tate and takes a knee, lacing his fingers and holding his hand out for Tate to climb into. ]
Could've just fucking grabbed the branch. You were right there.
Sorry, do I look like some hulked up whippet like you?
[Tate rolls his eyes hard before purposely stepping onto Derek's laced fingers a little harder than he needed to, using the momentum of that and any resulting lift to heft himself upward. This time he grabs the branch and doesn't let go, pulling himself up with a small amount of struggle but this time his sneaker catches the bark and helps him climb the rest of the way up. He sits on the branch for a second, staring down, maybe a little relieved to have made it.
And then he's excited, looking upward again and getting back on his feet to start climbing upward. But like a cat, the higher he starts to go the less he thinks about getting back down - and the troubles that might give him in the long run. No, fuck that, he's - grinning and trying his weight on another branch, hugging the main tree as he steps across.]
[ Derek's annoyed. Derek's obviously annoyed. Tate puts his weight on Derek's fingers long enough for him to realize that he's doing it on purpose, and Derek takes a long, deep breath. He looks at Tate like he's gonna kill him. Looks at him like he's gonna stop boosting him and let him fall on his ass, at least.
That doesn't happen. Tate gets a leg up and starts climbing, and Derek stretches up straight, rubbing his shoulder. ]
You look like - [ No, hold on, he's not done. Derek cuts himself off, hitting Tate with that look again, still annoyed from, like, eight feet below him. "C'mon, boy". Go fuck yourself. ]
You look like you've never climbed a tree before. That's what you look like.
[ Still, he follows orders, steadily and mostly silently digging his shoes into the bark and scaling those first few branches. A part of him gets kind of competitive and wants to overtake Tate as he goes, but once they're mostly level and have room to climb at their own pace, that part of him dies away. He climbs and he climbs until he finds a thick enough branch to support his weight, walking out onto it and gingerly sitting down. His stomach does a little flip when he looks to the ground, which seems to be a pretty long drop, at this point, but he's never been that scared of heights. Just fire. ]
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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.
no subject
[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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Don't let me be wrong about you.
[ He's quiet, when he says this, maybe a little cautious, but - certainly not unkind. There's no way he's wrong about Tate.
There are other things he wanted to cover, but he's burning himself out on shovelling all this serious shit down Tate's throat, and the thought of diving too deep into the rest of his family is - rough. Derek kicks his heel in the dirt, looks at Tate, then to the woods around them, going out of his way to adopt a lighter posture, a more casual tone of voice. It's forced, but. Light and casual is always forced, with Derek. ]
Pick a spot. [ He gestures, vaguely, at the woods around them. ] If we're gonna build you a treehouse, may as well start planning.
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[He laughs, trying to go with the lighter tone of the conversation. He rests his own hands in his lap once Derek takes his away, and flexes his fingers lightly as if in a nervous twitch. He breathes in deep and looks around, surveying the trees for once that look solid enough - trying to decide what he really wants. It's easier to think about this than anything else, like letting down Derek or realizing how deep he's dug the hole for himself now.]
I'd like it if it kinda lead off a hill, for easier access. You know, with supports or something? I don't know. I'll have to look into it, unless you've got ideas. A vision.
[He's quiet for another moment.]
I like it out here. I wanna spend time here, so. We better get to work on it fast.
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Probably. ]
I want it to be practical. Defensible. You need to be able to get out fast, if another 5 AM kidnapping happens when you're staying the night.
[ Uh - not that Tate has to spend the night in this thing, but, you know. If he wanted to, having a way out seems smart. High ground sounds good, too, but that was kinda, you know. Expected. Tree house. Derek twists his mouth a little, thinking. ]
But - also - cool? I want... to build you something... cool.
[ He, uh. Hopes that doesn't sound too stupid. ]
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I want it to be cool, too. But you know, also not wanna fall through a shitty floorboard so. We'll have to make sure it's all of those things. I don't really have money, or much to contribute - but I want to. Don't - Don't tell me you're doing this for me and say that's it. I wanna pay you back, like...
[Tate loaf hands. It's infectious.]
I can do odd jobs or something, for you? Clean up the beach, not that anyone ever goes on it. I don't really know how to do laundry, but I used to help the maid take it off the line when I was little?
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I'm not doing this for you. I mean, I am, but - having you out here means I get to see you more, so. This is an entirely selfish endeavour.
[ But - letting Tate do things will get him over more often, too, so. He's not saying no. ]
If helping out will make you feel better, though - fine, I guess? I don't care what you do. Laundry, cooking, cleaning. Being on call for 24/7 blowjobs. Pick something.
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[They talk about blowjobs far too much for it to be even a joke anymore, but Tate will never let it die. Joking like this makes things feel still stupid and airy, opposed to serious and drawn out. Goes beyond ever thinking Derek was hot now to just - sort of being like a second greeting. Tate gives Derek's shoulder another little shove, and snickers.]
I'm actually shit at cleaning, too. We had a maid, like I said. The only thing I'm not bad at there actually is the blowjobs. Guess that decides it for me.
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[ Derek rocks back when Tate shoves him, putting his other foot in the ground to tip from falling over. Kid's come a long way since he was screaming in his face during orientation, afraid of being touched by another guy, needing to be hurt just to get through it. There's a second of kind of - uncomfortable nausea in his stomach that he can't really put a finger on, and he chalks it up to how fucked up it is that Tate have to die and be brought to a city as screwed up as this one before he became decently comfortable in his sexuality.
But. Light stuff. Jokes. Derek stands up, changes direction. Keeps everything steady. ]
Tree house. I doubt this city even sells lumber. I'm going to have to buy a fucking truckload of pillories and take them apart, or something.
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He turns around and rests his back against the tree, arms tucked across his chest. He looks at Derek for a long moment, before glancing upward again. He can see a little sliver of sky here and there, through the tops of the trees. He can even smell the outdoors, and it feels like the first time he's had a moment to really... absorb it all.]
I'm sure there's a plentiful supply of hardwood in the city. Maybe even some soft.
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Maybe it's not that. Maybe it's something else. Derek drops his voice low, like he doesn't want Tate to hear him talk, but - not low enough for Tate to miss what he says. ]
You're gonna get me in trouble, one of these days.
[ And then, suddenly, Derek's eyes snap up. He tilts his head, looks up the tree that Tate's standing under, and - hm. Hmm. ]
You think you could climb up there?
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[Tate hesitates a second before pushing off of the tree trunk, looking upward and turning around to face it. Pretty tall, but looks relatively sturdy - he flexes his fingers and raises his brows. He won't really know until he tries, but he's got a vague sense of confidence that he might at least make it some of the way up. Only, of course, first:]
Gimme a boost to the first branch?
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[ A vague sense of confidence describes Tate's typical state of mind pretty fucking well, if Derek's being honest. Derek's kind of a shithead, because even though he was the one came up with the idea of climbing that tree in the first place, he's rolling his eyes and acting put out when Tate needs help.
But, whatever. Fine. He walks over, shoves Tate on the shoulderblade, setting his hands on his waist. There's no real warning, he just - picks him the fuck up and lifts him high and fast, like he barely weighs a thing, putting him in reach of that first branch. ]
Get on, idiot.
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[Tate flails somewhat when lifted like a child, reaching to grab the branch and kick his leg out against the tree trunk to help scramble upward. It doesn't work at first because he has no momentum, so his fingers start to slide and he'll fall back to the ground if Derek happens to let go of him. If he doesn't, Tate will just smack at his hands until he does.]
This isn't a boost, dipshit. I'm not a fucking kid, I meant - like. A step up?
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This was a stupid idea and he already hates it. ]
Jesus. Fine. Come on.
[ But. Fuck. Whatever. He moves in front of Tate and takes a knee, lacing his fingers and holding his hand out for Tate to climb into. ]
Could've just fucking grabbed the branch. You were right there.
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[Tate rolls his eyes hard before purposely stepping onto Derek's laced fingers a little harder than he needed to, using the momentum of that and any resulting lift to heft himself upward. This time he grabs the branch and doesn't let go, pulling himself up with a small amount of struggle but this time his sneaker catches the bark and helps him climb the rest of the way up. He sits on the branch for a second, staring down, maybe a little relieved to have made it.
And then he's excited, looking upward again and getting back on his feet to start climbing upward. But like a cat, the higher he starts to go the less he thinks about getting back down - and the troubles that might give him in the long run. No, fuck that, he's - grinning and trying his weight on another branch, hugging the main tree as he steps across.]
C'mon, boy. Climb the tree too.
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That doesn't happen. Tate gets a leg up and starts climbing, and Derek stretches up straight, rubbing his shoulder. ]
You look like - [ No, hold on, he's not done. Derek cuts himself off, hitting Tate with that look again, still annoyed from, like, eight feet below him. "C'mon, boy". Go fuck yourself. ]
You look like you've never climbed a tree before. That's what you look like.
[ Still, he follows orders, steadily and mostly silently digging his shoes into the bark and scaling those first few branches. A part of him gets kind of competitive and wants to overtake Tate as he goes, but once they're mostly level and have room to climb at their own pace, that part of him dies away. He climbs and he climbs until he finds a thick enough branch to support his weight, walking out onto it and gingerly sitting down. His stomach does a little flip when he looks to the ground, which seems to be a pretty long drop, at this point, but he's never been that scared of heights. Just fire. ]
You doing okay?
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