[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. ]
[But Tate just wants to climb higher and higher, only pausing in this endeavor when he sees Derek's come to a stop. It's evident he wants to go higher still, maybe as high as he can, but his fingers hurt a bit and it's true - he's not used to this. Said it himself. The worst thing he can do is over exert himself and fall from the damn thing, only to test his nine lives policy on earthen ground.
So he goes back down a branch or two, tentatively sitting on the same branch as Derek but opting to straddle it - facing him. He'll edge his way out a bit, sneakers kicking in the open air. He looks down to one side, fingers splayed against the girth of the branch, and he doesn't feel that big of a drop in his stomach. But his eyes widen nonetheless.]
I'm good. How fucked up do you think we'd get if we fell?
[ Derek watches Tate climb a little higher, and he's - concerned. He's wearing his emotions for Tate on his sleeve a little too often, lately. He knows the dangers of worrying about Tate, he knows that crowding him and suffocating him over every little thing will just - lead to another fight, eventually - but.
He can't help it. Tate means a lot to him. Tate stops climbing and Derek's visibly relieved, his shoulders sloping as his lungs start working again. Tate straddles the branch he's on and Derek's - smiling, again. All traces of being annoyed just - gone. ]
I've survived worse.
[ But it would still fuck him up pretty bad. Derek inches a little closer to Tate, vaguely protective. He wants to be close enough to grab him, if he falls. ]
[Which - you know, is important to mention after having previously admitted to Derek he had committed suicide in the past. He doesn't linger on that, refusing to let it puncture the moment, and raises his brows at Derek. He contemplates whether or not to pretend to slip but - well, you don't want to do that to the guy with claws. He can guess that much.]
Now we're in the fucking tree. Is this where we hold hands again? Go three for three?
[ Derek shrugs, apparently not listening. He's looking out ahead of him now, listening for something, and he seems to find it. He holds out an arm, pointing back in the direction they first walked in from. ]
The woods open out onto the beach... there.
[ He looks at Tate, dropping his hand back onto the branch. ]
That's where we'll build your house. Facing the ocean. You'll be able to wake up to the waves, every time you slept over. You'll spend days just - sitting at the window, staring out over the horizon, reading one of the books I owe you. You'd be able to walk to my place in... two, maybe three minutes. And then...
[ Cautiously: ]
And then... come July, we'll be able to stay there together. You, me. Stiles, if you want him. Camped out under the light of the stars, warm and safe. It'll be... nice.
[Tate's so easily swayed; he follows Derek's pointing finger like a child being instructed, as if being told the water's only so far away is something new. He's excited by the notion of living by it, by the beach and in the midst of all this greenery. There's something peaceful and serene about the area, so full of... life. In contrast to the simple feeling of death that haunted the House at all times. Blood, ash, suffering. This is so much lighter and promising.
Only. He looks to Derek quietly.]
Is it really going to work? In July. I mean, I want it to but... how? You and Stiles are important to one another and I know I'm important to you too. But... you promise that I won't be... imposing on anything? Like.
[He scratches at his forearm, light but hard enough to leave a white line underneath his sleeve.]
[ Derek doesn't get defensive, exactly, but he does seem a little more firm. For a second, he's - worried. Stiles isn't cool with it. Of course he isn't cool with it. The last he heard, Derek wanted Tate out of his life for good. He doesn't know a thing about July.
But if he says he hasn't run this past Stiles - that's just going to make Tate put his tail between his legs and run. Derek's not willing to do that. And anyway, why should he? Stiles is-- Stiles will be okay with it. He has to be. Stiles is the one who reminded Derek that Tate's kind of a liability to let loose. Stiles has seen how Tate gets, when he feels scared, or angry, or abandoned, and Stiles is the one who wondered if Tate would do something stupid if Derek fucked with his head too badly. Stiles told Derek not to cut Tate out of his life. Stiles is smart, and Stiles is empathetic, and Stiles has to know that Derek wouldn't be okay with letting Tate stay with fucking Kavinsky.
He'll get it. Of course he'll get it. Stiles is the best. Derek's not worried, even though - well, maybe he should be. He's not going to let himself be worried. That firmness goes, and he just shrugs. Casual, reassuring. He offers a smile, completely calm. He lies, because it doesn't even feel like a lie, it just - feels like a truth that hasn't been told yet. That's what he tells himself. ]
Yeah. You don't have to worry. It's all going to work out. I promise.
[ He nudges Tate's knee with his own, shuffling a little further towards Tate, keeping close. ]
You're an irreplaceable part of my life. Stop... comparing yourself to him.
[Tate pinches his brows and tries to figure out his wording. He wants to buy into Derek's assurances and he does, he really does, but he feels like he needs to elaborate on the complexity of his feelings toward Stiles. Stiles, the guy who Derek loves. He said that, he means it. And Tate really, really admires that. Love, in a place like this?]
I just know how much you care about him. How much he cares about you. Regardless of what I am, what you have is important. And you need to promise me you'll do everything to prioritize that. I know we're gonna be pack, but you should always have him as a priority even still. That's what you do, when you love someone. Love them that way.
[True love.]
I know it'll work out. But I want to make sure it's good for all of us.
[ This feels, on some level, like a test. A way for Tate to see if Derek really is loyal to him, over even someone like Stiles. Derek takes a thoughtful pause. ]
You don't... need to tell me that. Stiles will always have the best of me. He deserves so much more than I can give him.
[ But even if this is a test, Derek isn't going to lie. Not so point blank. Stiles is a big fucking deal. The biggest fucking deal he has. He loves him. He might love Tate too, if not now, then soon, but. It'll be a very different kind of love. ]
I just don't want you to think you won't get the best of me, too.
[Tate doesn't think things are being nailed down the way he wants, and it's frustrating. He wants Derek to value what he has, and yet - maybe it's too true, he wants to be told he's worth just as much. Because even though he can admire true love, he so desperately wants to feel worthy of people that it makes him jealous in the same breath. He kicks his leg a bit, and slowly turns so both hang off one side of the branch. Surprisingly, doesn't risk losing his balance.]
I want to... have someone like that one day. I thought I did, with Violet.
[A touchy subject - darkness encircles him at the thought, but he ebbs it away. Closes his eyes, breathes deep and scratches his nails back and forth on the denim over his knees. He relaxes, without any scratches. Cuts. Nicks. Bites or the color red to guide him here.]
[ Derek values what he has, of course he does - Stiles has rapidly become his be-all and his end-all, his reason for waking up each fucking morning. Stiles is what keeps him going, while at the same time, being what keeps him grounded. Derek just...
He can't say all that. Can't look Tate directly in the eye and say that if the two of them were drowning, Derek might try to save them both, but there's no real decision to be made. He watches Tate, sees the way he unwinds. All on his own. ]
I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.
[ If he didn't have Stiles. If Tate would even want that with him. Maybe Derek wouldn't be enough. Maybe he wouldn't actually want to be enough, like that. He doesn't have feelings for Tate. Doesn't even have the start of them. He's just desperate to give Tate everything he can, and maybe he's saying something stupid and short-sighted and maybe he's only making things worse. Wouldn't be the first time. ]
Do you - I mean - do you have anyone you would want to... start over with? I know you want to be with Violet, but...
[Derek says 'I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.' and it causes Tate to shoot him a mildly perplexed look, bordering almost on scared and uncertain. Why? Because he doesn't know how far to read into things with Derek, how to gauge when blowjob jokes are just jokes and when - there's more to be had than what meets the eye. Tate can't think why he'd say that other than if, by some chance, he meant it. And so he blanks, staring at Derek with wide eyes for a long moment before looking away.
He has Stiles, anyway. It's not like they'd... even if Stiles wasn't here, does he like Derek enough? He's attracted to him, sure. Has been since orientation, when he was touchy about being touched but also demanding. He scratches his upper arm and feels suddenly not so safe in the tree, looking down toward the ground and wondering what it would feel like to slip off and fall. He focuses on that and what it does to his stomach over what his stomach does in response to Derek.]
I dunno.
[That's a lie. His body screams that it's a lie out of every pore, every inch of his body takes a posture that reeks of it. He glances back up at Derek, uncertain, but decides that this is one of those times he can be honest. Selectively honest. He's no fool and he's not about to make the same mistakes as before - this, however, won't pull the rug out of what they have. He hopes.]
I don't know if I want that here. It... It wouldn't work? I mean, it'd be really hard. With how it works. Unless you're in love with your partner, it's tricky. Two subs - it's... it's always going to be weird.
[He picks at the frayed edge of torn denim on his knee, eyes staying downcast.]
But sometimes I think I start to feel things, maybe. I get excited to see people - a person - and hang out with them. But it's not like I'm going to date them. Date...
[ Tate looks - scared, and Derek reacts the same way he would have reacted if he were sharing this tree with Tate at fifteen instead of twenty-two, back before Kate charred away whatever naive, reactionary emotions he had in him outside of anger. He turns a little pink, looks down, looks away, looking - pointedly anywhere else. Embarrassed. Like he's been caught, doing something fucking stupid. Shy and dumb and stupid.
But he's not so selfish and entitled as to dwell on his own sudden spikes of shame once Tate's opening up to him about something pretty big. He swallows, resets himself, grounds himself and listens. Tate's - lying, obviously, and Derek doesn't push him, but the gravity of what's being breached here does make his stomach bubble with worry. He fears for a second that this is going to circle back to Kavinsky, and that he's going to have to confess that he met him, and that he swore he'd tear out his throat if he dared to speak to him again. Shit, his stomach really, really hurts.
But then Tate keeps going, says two subs, and Derek looks visibly miserable and apprehensive, but. Stable, at least. His gut response is to say - he'll sign that kid, too. Bring him into Derek's pack, the way he still wants to with Tate, and maybe he'll circle back to that, but sweeping, demanding promises based on nothing but the overprotective urge to fix everything hasn't exactly done wonders for what the two of them have. ]
What's...
[ Derek swallows. Tries to sound casual, instead of - heavily, heavily guarded. It doesn't work. He just sounds like he's trying not to... react. ]
[Tate feels - weird, after admitting it aloud. For all the attraction he's had, the sex he's had, with guys in the setting it's not like it's something that stuns him. It's just not something he's had practice in vocalizing; in sharing with other people. It's so much simpler to keep it private and contained, but his head feels bubbly and stupid and there's a feeling close to panic in his chest. He can't take this back either, now that he's said it. Shared it. Confided it.
He looks to Derek, dark eyes searching for something in the way he looks at his face. Derek doesn't give much in terms of comfort with the way he's guarding his reactions, and Tate seems a bit subdued as he tries to decide if he wants to keep talking about this or if it's another fucking mistake. It's not like he can just get up and walk the fuck away, either. He sucks in a slow breath.]
Peter. His name is Peter - he's just... just someone I know.
[And by know he means have repeatedly screwed but there's more to it than that. He thinks, at least. He knows how he feels about it and regardless of whether or not that's one sided, it can't be that weird to think it's nice to be in his company. That he's... warming to be around. He makes Tate feel his age in a weird way. Tate doesn't realize his face has flooded with color, but he gestures with his hands.]
[ Okay. Peter. Pretty terrible name, all things considered. Not off to a great start. Derek bristles, low-key deciding he doesn't like this dude, because if sweeping gestures and overdramatic promises haven't done wonders for his relationship with Tate, at least it's always helped when he's decided on arbitrary instinct to hate everyone Tate forms a connection with.
Derek nods, mechanical and distant, like he's not really there. There's a stretch of silence that feels painfully ongoing, but doesn't last very long at all. He breathes out a sigh, and it's only when he hears it leave him that he realizes he's just-- thinking, and being angry, and being possessive and stupid and jealous that there's someone else in Tate's life he hadn't known about, and generally... just... not being reassuring. He swallows, scrambling to catch up. ]
Sorry, I'm just - thinking.
[ Which doesn't sound good, actually, so Derek winces apologetically, setting both hands on the branch and holding on tight, like he's preparing to propel himself off the edge and eat complete and total shit on the ground below. He needs to know more about this guy? Peter. Is he Tate's age? Older? Jesus Christ, Derek's gonna kill him if he's older. There's another sigh, he hears himself again, realizes he's just circling the drain, here. He looks at Tate, tries to look - chill. Doesn't look chill. ]
Tate - this place doesn't make it easy to trust people. This place doesn't make it easy to like people, for that matter. I'm not saying you have to... rush into the idea of dating him, and I know that it's pretty fucking scary trying to survive this place as a sub, but. If there's someone in your life that's... kind, and decent, and good for you, then you should be fighting to hold onto that. Onto him.
[ But only if he's actually kind? And actually decent. Does this Peter prick do as many drugs as Kavinsky? How much fucking blood does he have on his hands? Peter. Peter. ]
[Tate watches Derek with that same wide eyed look as he 'thinks', whatever the hell that means. His chest feels a bit tight and he's sure his heart's so obviously in his throat during this prolonged moment of torture, because he doesn't know what's happening in Derek's head. Worse than it is with most people, trying to guess what's behind the calm or - well, angry - looking face of Derek's? It's hard.
And Tate hates not knowing what people think of him.
He thinks of the concept of dating and blanks when he tries to overlay it with his feelings toward Peter. He doesn't know how to date guys - doesn't know how to be so open about it the way he's sure Peter deserves. He's hung up on too much. This city hangs him up on even more. It wouldn't work, sub to sub. It wouldn't work because he's got two possessive Doms looking down over his life. It wouldn't work because Peter's far too sweet to be tainted by him. It wouldn't work.]
Like - Like I said, I know. I don't even know if that's what I want. I just... I've never had feelings like this before. For, for a guy. It's not just... it's not just like, ah.
[He rubs at his face, getting frustrated. It's harder to calm down now.]
It's not just physical stuff. I just like hearing him talk. I felt this way before, with Violet. Like I found someone who... who I'm excited to talk to. And see. Who wants to see me, though, too.
[ Another long, robotic pause. Tate's getting in his own head, and Derek feels like it's his fault, so there's just - another knot getting tightened in his stomach. His lips are dry, and he bites them, peeling off dead skin. The bark feels brittle beneath his thumb, and he starts digging away at it, ripping it clean, tortuously slow. ]
Good. Right? Putting aside all the... the rules of the city, the fact that he's a guy, everything that scares you about this - it's good, that you have him in your life. Right?
[ Derek leaves the branch alone. He's painfully aware of how he looks, how he's sitting, how his voice is frigid and emotionless, well-practiced in shielding how he feels from other werewolves, the kinds of people who could hear a skip in his heartbeat and use it to ruin him. Derek needs to make more of an effort to reassure Tate, so he just - reaches out, knocking his knuckles against Tate's calf. ]
You could just tell him how you feel. Maybe he feels the same way as you. Scared it wouldn't work. You could figure it out together.
[ Is that good advice? Jesus, that doesn't sound like good advice. Derek - scrambles, again. ]
[-want. Tate doesn't know, doesn't even begin to know how it would work. Again, it wouldn't. So he gets angry at Derek for suggesting it might, which is wholly counterproductive considering things worked out for him and that's exactly what Tate envies. He looks at Derek while biting back his words, biting back his bite, and tries to disentangle from the acidity in his throat on this subject and put himself back into the mode of an observer.
[ Tate gets angry, and Derek - well, Derek's getting good at seeing it coming. There's no yelling, this time, no threats, but it hurts, nevertheless, just as it always does. Other than a dip of his eyebrows in the middle, he doesn't let that hurt show, but fuck. Just once, he wants to help. Derek takes a bit of time before he starts talking, soft and cautious. ]
Back home - it took a while for Stiles and I to get along. I kind of hated him. He acted like he hated me, too, but he was just - you know. Scared.
[ Derek side-eyes Tate, then points to his jaw. Clacks his teeth together. Big wolf, big fangs. Tate probably gets his point. ]
These two kids went missing. Two of my betas. I spent an entire summer searching for them. Stiles helped. We spent... night after night, sleeping in the backseat of my Camaro or crashing in shitty motels together. Talking. Bonding. Got to know each other pretty well.
And then - I met a girl, and I started seeing her. She was fucking with my head, making me do it. Made me believe I had feelings that weren't ever really there. A few months passed and summer started feeling too far away to talk about - Jennifer died, we all moved on. Stiles got... kidnapped, in a sense. He met a girl, too. Stayed with her. So did I. I left for good, soon after that. Didn't say goodbye to him.
[ Just - got in a car and left. Broke up with Braeden soon after, leaving her to go back to Beacon Hills alone when Stiles needed him most. He doesn't know about that, yet. ]
I haven't lived that summer yet, but - that's when we fell in love. When he fell in love with me, at least, and with how I feel about him here, I'm pretty sure it would've been mutual. We didn't ever get the chance to be anything back home, but we're getting that here.
[ And... his point. Derek looks at Tate again, worried that he's not going to be clear about all of this. Worried that he's just - bragging. Dangling something in front of Tate that he wants and doesn't have. ]
So - I don't know. I guess I just mean - there are opportunities here that you wouldn't get to have back home. Maybe this Peter guy is one of them. If you want him to be. It's cool, if you don't. Maybe just-- the freedom to consider whether you would be interested in guys like that is opportunity enough. But.
[ but. ]
I'd help. If you wanted to ask him out. I could chaperone you guys around, do something decent with my privilege as a Dom. Pretend to be deaf when you start reciting poetry to each other. Things like that. It doesn't have to be as impossible as you're making it out to be, man.
[Tate thinks that this is a lot - to digest, to be told, but he drinks it all up nonetheless. Tate loves stories, loves hearing people tell him about their lives - maybe because it distracts him from his own. Gives him something fresh to settle on, to observe and try to understand. Derek and Stiles have it better that they're from the same world, where they're not just here by chance for as long as they last. Of course it's easier for them to try things, if it works out... well, it works out wherever they are.
He finds romance in what Derek tells him and again he pines for that, scratching at his upper arm almost shy as he tries not to feel too jealous. He'd going to be holding Derek to what he said about ensuring it works out - that there's an even amount of love for pack and mate both. If, Tate surmises, that's possible.]
Yoooou are not supervising anything.
[That just comes out of his mouth first and foremost, before he laughs lightly. Quirks his brows and kicks his feet, like - well. It is kind of funny. Nice to be offered but uh. Derek?]
Maybe sometime down the road you could help us score a quiet place to chill. But I know the beach is off limits, and the treehouse will be too. Got any other locations that might be okay to just... hang in?
[ You're not supervising anything, Tate says, and Derek is immediately annoyed. He bristles, looking at Tate like he's ready to pick a fight over this, but then - something clicks. ]
Right. Okay.
[ The fucking. Obviously. Obviously there'd be fucking. Jesus. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumb and just - rapidly glosses past this part. Feels like his instinct to ask are you sure you're using protection would be a pretty fucking stupid hill to start climbing now, so he lets that die, too. ]
Yeah. Sure. I've been trying to find somewhere I can go, if I ever... I mean, if I ever do get to have a pack again. I'd need a place away from the den, so. Know a few secret places out of the way.
[ They're not particularly romantic places, but they're safe and secure, at least. He'll just have to figure out which potential lair for the pack he's probably never going to actually have he'd be willing to give up and turn into fucking Makeout Point for a definitely heterosexual teen and his not-boyfriend. ]
[Tate feels that - strange sort of tension there on the topic but at the same time, it transitions through it so fast and smooth that he's oddly pleased. He doesn't need to elaborate and Derek... understands? He's supportive. Maybe Tate's just projecting what he wants out of this onto Derek an his actions, but he can almost appreciate the overbearingly protective dude's attitude here.
He scratches at his ear though. Still a bit pink.]
If you'll share those, or whatever. It'd be nice. But if not, it's cool. We'll work it out.
[They can go hold hands in the library or some shit.]
Can I ask you another question? Sort of related, but... not really.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
[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?
no subject
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.
no subject
[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.
no subject
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?
no subject
[But Tate just wants to climb higher and higher, only pausing in this endeavor when he sees Derek's come to a stop. It's evident he wants to go higher still, maybe as high as he can, but his fingers hurt a bit and it's true - he's not used to this. Said it himself. The worst thing he can do is over exert himself and fall from the damn thing, only to test his nine lives policy on earthen ground.
So he goes back down a branch or two, tentatively sitting on the same branch as Derek but opting to straddle it - facing him. He'll edge his way out a bit, sneakers kicking in the open air. He looks down to one side, fingers splayed against the girth of the branch, and he doesn't feel that big of a drop in his stomach. But his eyes widen nonetheless.]
I'm good. How fucked up do you think we'd get if we fell?
no subject
He can't help it. Tate means a lot to him. Tate stops climbing and Derek's visibly relieved, his shoulders sloping as his lungs start working again. Tate straddles the branch he's on and Derek's - smiling, again. All traces of being annoyed just - gone. ]
I've survived worse.
[ But it would still fuck him up pretty bad. Derek inches a little closer to Tate, vaguely protective. He wants to be close enough to grab him, if he falls. ]
I've got you, though. Not gonna let you fall.
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[Which - you know, is important to mention after having previously admitted to Derek he had committed suicide in the past. He doesn't linger on that, refusing to let it puncture the moment, and raises his brows at Derek. He contemplates whether or not to pretend to slip but - well, you don't want to do that to the guy with claws. He can guess that much.]
Now we're in the fucking tree. Is this where we hold hands again? Go three for three?
no subject
Mm.
[ Derek shrugs, apparently not listening. He's looking out ahead of him now, listening for something, and he seems to find it. He holds out an arm, pointing back in the direction they first walked in from. ]
The woods open out onto the beach... there.
[ He looks at Tate, dropping his hand back onto the branch. ]
That's where we'll build your house. Facing the ocean. You'll be able to wake up to the waves, every time you slept over. You'll spend days just - sitting at the window, staring out over the horizon, reading one of the books I owe you. You'd be able to walk to my place in... two, maybe three minutes. And then...
[ Cautiously: ]
And then... come July, we'll be able to stay there together. You, me. Stiles, if you want him. Camped out under the light of the stars, warm and safe. It'll be... nice.
no subject
Only. He looks to Derek quietly.]
Is it really going to work? In July. I mean, I want it to but... how? You and Stiles are important to one another and I know I'm important to you too. But... you promise that I won't be... imposing on anything? Like.
[He scratches at his forearm, light but hard enough to leave a white line underneath his sleeve.]
Stiles is okay with it?
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But if he says he hasn't run this past Stiles - that's just going to make Tate put his tail between his legs and run. Derek's not willing to do that. And anyway, why should he? Stiles is-- Stiles will be okay with it. He has to be. Stiles is the one who reminded Derek that Tate's kind of a liability to let loose. Stiles has seen how Tate gets, when he feels scared, or angry, or abandoned, and Stiles is the one who wondered if Tate would do something stupid if Derek fucked with his head too badly. Stiles told Derek not to cut Tate out of his life. Stiles is smart, and Stiles is empathetic, and Stiles has to know that Derek wouldn't be okay with letting Tate stay with fucking Kavinsky.
He'll get it. Of course he'll get it. Stiles is the best. Derek's not worried, even though - well, maybe he should be. He's not going to let himself be worried. That firmness goes, and he just shrugs. Casual, reassuring. He offers a smile, completely calm. He lies, because it doesn't even feel like a lie, it just - feels like a truth that hasn't been told yet. That's what he tells himself. ]
Yeah. You don't have to worry. It's all going to work out. I promise.
[ He nudges Tate's knee with his own, shuffling a little further towards Tate, keeping close. ]
You're an irreplaceable part of my life. Stop... comparing yourself to him.
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[Tate pinches his brows and tries to figure out his wording. He wants to buy into Derek's assurances and he does, he really does, but he feels like he needs to elaborate on the complexity of his feelings toward Stiles. Stiles, the guy who Derek loves. He said that, he means it. And Tate really, really admires that. Love, in a place like this?]
I just know how much you care about him. How much he cares about you. Regardless of what I am, what you have is important. And you need to promise me you'll do everything to prioritize that. I know we're gonna be pack, but you should always have him as a priority even still. That's what you do, when you love someone. Love them that way.
[True love.]
I know it'll work out. But I want to make sure it's good for all of us.
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You don't... need to tell me that. Stiles will always have the best of me. He deserves so much more than I can give him.
[ But even if this is a test, Derek isn't going to lie. Not so point blank. Stiles is a big fucking deal. The biggest fucking deal he has. He loves him. He might love Tate too, if not now, then soon, but. It'll be a very different kind of love. ]
I just don't want you to think you won't get the best of me, too.
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I want to... have someone like that one day. I thought I did, with Violet.
[A touchy subject - darkness encircles him at the thought, but he ebbs it away. Closes his eyes, breathes deep and scratches his nails back and forth on the denim over his knees. He relaxes, without any scratches. Cuts. Nicks. Bites or the color red to guide him here.]
I don't know how to start again. Especially here.
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He can't say all that. Can't look Tate directly in the eye and say that if the two of them were drowning, Derek might try to save them both, but there's no real decision to be made. He watches Tate, sees the way he unwinds. All on his own. ]
I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.
[ If he didn't have Stiles. If Tate would even want that with him. Maybe Derek wouldn't be enough. Maybe he wouldn't actually want to be enough, like that. He doesn't have feelings for Tate. Doesn't even have the start of them. He's just desperate to give Tate everything he can, and maybe he's saying something stupid and short-sighted and maybe he's only making things worse. Wouldn't be the first time. ]
Do you - I mean - do you have anyone you would want to... start over with? I know you want to be with Violet, but...
[ complicated. ]
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He has Stiles, anyway. It's not like they'd... even if Stiles wasn't here, does he like Derek enough? He's attracted to him, sure. Has been since orientation, when he was touchy about being touched but also demanding. He scratches his upper arm and feels suddenly not so safe in the tree, looking down toward the ground and wondering what it would feel like to slip off and fall. He focuses on that and what it does to his stomach over what his stomach does in response to Derek.]
I dunno.
[That's a lie. His body screams that it's a lie out of every pore, every inch of his body takes a posture that reeks of it. He glances back up at Derek, uncertain, but decides that this is one of those times he can be honest. Selectively honest. He's no fool and he's not about to make the same mistakes as before - this, however, won't pull the rug out of what they have. He hopes.]
I don't know if I want that here. It... It wouldn't work? I mean, it'd be really hard. With how it works. Unless you're in love with your partner, it's tricky. Two subs - it's... it's always going to be weird.
[He picks at the frayed edge of torn denim on his knee, eyes staying downcast.]
But sometimes I think I start to feel things, maybe. I get excited to see people - a person - and hang out with them. But it's not like I'm going to date them. Date...
[He freezes. Closes his eyes. Counts his threes.]
Him.
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But he's not so selfish and entitled as to dwell on his own sudden spikes of shame once Tate's opening up to him about something pretty big. He swallows, resets himself, grounds himself and listens. Tate's - lying, obviously, and Derek doesn't push him, but the gravity of what's being breached here does make his stomach bubble with worry. He fears for a second that this is going to circle back to Kavinsky, and that he's going to have to confess that he met him, and that he swore he'd tear out his throat if he dared to speak to him again. Shit, his stomach really, really hurts.
But then Tate keeps going, says two subs, and Derek looks visibly miserable and apprehensive, but. Stable, at least. His gut response is to say - he'll sign that kid, too. Bring him into Derek's pack, the way he still wants to with Tate, and maybe he'll circle back to that, but sweeping, demanding promises based on nothing but the overprotective urge to fix everything hasn't exactly done wonders for what the two of them have. ]
What's...
[ Derek swallows. Tries to sound casual, instead of - heavily, heavily guarded. It doesn't work. He just sounds like he's trying not to... react. ]
What's his name?
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He looks to Derek, dark eyes searching for something in the way he looks at his face. Derek doesn't give much in terms of comfort with the way he's guarding his reactions, and Tate seems a bit subdued as he tries to decide if he wants to keep talking about this or if it's another fucking mistake. It's not like he can just get up and walk the fuck away, either. He sucks in a slow breath.]
Peter. His name is Peter - he's just... just someone I know.
[And by know he means have repeatedly screwed but there's more to it than that. He thinks, at least. He knows how he feels about it and regardless of whether or not that's one sided, it can't be that weird to think it's nice to be in his company. That he's... warming to be around. He makes Tate feel his age in a weird way. Tate doesn't realize his face has flooded with color, but he gestures with his hands.]
Like I said. It's not like we're gonna date.
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Derek nods, mechanical and distant, like he's not really there. There's a stretch of silence that feels painfully ongoing, but doesn't last very long at all. He breathes out a sigh, and it's only when he hears it leave him that he realizes he's just-- thinking, and being angry, and being possessive and stupid and jealous that there's someone else in Tate's life he hadn't known about, and generally... just... not being reassuring. He swallows, scrambling to catch up. ]
Sorry, I'm just - thinking.
[ Which doesn't sound good, actually, so Derek winces apologetically, setting both hands on the branch and holding on tight, like he's preparing to propel himself off the edge and eat complete and total shit on the ground below. He needs to know more about this guy? Peter. Is he Tate's age? Older? Jesus Christ, Derek's gonna kill him if he's older. There's another sigh, he hears himself again, realizes he's just circling the drain, here. He looks at Tate, tries to look - chill. Doesn't look chill. ]
Tate - this place doesn't make it easy to trust people. This place doesn't make it easy to like people, for that matter. I'm not saying you have to... rush into the idea of dating him, and I know that it's pretty fucking scary trying to survive this place as a sub, but. If there's someone in your life that's... kind, and decent, and good for you, then you should be fighting to hold onto that. Onto him.
[ But only if he's actually kind? And actually decent. Does this Peter prick do as many drugs as Kavinsky? How much fucking blood does he have on his hands? Peter. Peter. ]
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And Tate hates not knowing what people think of him.
He thinks of the concept of dating and blanks when he tries to overlay it with his feelings toward Peter. He doesn't know how to date guys - doesn't know how to be so open about it the way he's sure Peter deserves. He's hung up on too much. This city hangs him up on even more. It wouldn't work, sub to sub. It wouldn't work because he's got two possessive Doms looking down over his life. It wouldn't work because Peter's far too sweet to be tainted by him. It wouldn't work.]
Like - Like I said, I know. I don't even know if that's what I want. I just... I've never had feelings like this before. For, for a guy. It's not just... it's not just like, ah.
[He rubs at his face, getting frustrated. It's harder to calm down now.]
It's not just physical stuff. I just like hearing him talk. I felt this way before, with Violet. Like I found someone who... who I'm excited to talk to. And see. Who wants to see me, though, too.
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[ Another long, robotic pause. Tate's getting in his own head, and Derek feels like it's his fault, so there's just - another knot getting tightened in his stomach. His lips are dry, and he bites them, peeling off dead skin. The bark feels brittle beneath his thumb, and he starts digging away at it, ripping it clean, tortuously slow. ]
Good. Right? Putting aside all the... the rules of the city, the fact that he's a guy, everything that scares you about this - it's good, that you have him in your life. Right?
[ Derek leaves the branch alone. He's painfully aware of how he looks, how he's sitting, how his voice is frigid and emotionless, well-practiced in shielding how he feels from other werewolves, the kinds of people who could hear a skip in his heartbeat and use it to ruin him. Derek needs to make more of an effort to reassure Tate, so he just - reaches out, knocking his knuckles against Tate's calf. ]
You could just tell him how you feel. Maybe he feels the same way as you. Scared it wouldn't work. You could figure it out together.
[ Is that good advice? Jesus, that doesn't sound like good advice. Derek - scrambles, again. ]
Can I... tell you how Stiles and I started?
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[-want. Tate doesn't know, doesn't even begin to know how it would work. Again, it wouldn't. So he gets angry at Derek for suggesting it might, which is wholly counterproductive considering things worked out for him and that's exactly what Tate envies. He looks at Derek while biting back his words, biting back his bite, and tries to disentangle from the acidity in his throat on this subject and put himself back into the mode of an observer.
Stiles and Derek. He can listen to this.]
Yeah. Tell me? I... I wanna hear.
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Back home - it took a while for Stiles and I to get along. I kind of hated him. He acted like he hated me, too, but he was just - you know. Scared.
[ Derek side-eyes Tate, then points to his jaw. Clacks his teeth together. Big wolf, big fangs. Tate probably gets his point. ]
These two kids went missing. Two of my betas. I spent an entire summer searching for them. Stiles helped. We spent... night after night, sleeping in the backseat of my Camaro or crashing in shitty motels together. Talking. Bonding. Got to know each other pretty well.
And then - I met a girl, and I started seeing her. She was fucking with my head, making me do it. Made me believe I had feelings that weren't ever really there. A few months passed and summer started feeling too far away to talk about - Jennifer died, we all moved on. Stiles got... kidnapped, in a sense. He met a girl, too. Stayed with her. So did I. I left for good, soon after that. Didn't say goodbye to him.
[ Just - got in a car and left. Broke up with Braeden soon after, leaving her to go back to Beacon Hills alone when Stiles needed him most. He doesn't know about that, yet. ]
I haven't lived that summer yet, but - that's when we fell in love. When he fell in love with me, at least, and with how I feel about him here, I'm pretty sure it would've been mutual. We didn't ever get the chance to be anything back home, but we're getting that here.
[ And... his point. Derek looks at Tate again, worried that he's not going to be clear about all of this. Worried that he's just - bragging. Dangling something in front of Tate that he wants and doesn't have. ]
So - I don't know. I guess I just mean - there are opportunities here that you wouldn't get to have back home. Maybe this Peter guy is one of them. If you want him to be. It's cool, if you don't. Maybe just-- the freedom to consider whether you would be interested in guys like that is opportunity enough. But.
[ but. ]
I'd help. If you wanted to ask him out. I could chaperone you guys around, do something decent with my privilege as a Dom. Pretend to be deaf when you start reciting poetry to each other. Things like that. It doesn't have to be as impossible as you're making it out to be, man.
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He finds romance in what Derek tells him and again he pines for that, scratching at his upper arm almost shy as he tries not to feel too jealous. He'd going to be holding Derek to what he said about ensuring it works out - that there's an even amount of love for pack and mate both. If, Tate surmises, that's possible.]
Yoooou are not supervising anything.
[That just comes out of his mouth first and foremost, before he laughs lightly. Quirks his brows and kicks his feet, like - well. It is kind of funny. Nice to be offered but uh. Derek?]
Maybe sometime down the road you could help us score a quiet place to chill. But I know the beach is off limits, and the treehouse will be too. Got any other locations that might be okay to just... hang in?
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Right. Okay.
[ The fucking. Obviously. Obviously there'd be fucking. Jesus. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumb and just - rapidly glosses past this part. Feels like his instinct to ask are you sure you're using protection would be a pretty fucking stupid hill to start climbing now, so he lets that die, too. ]
Yeah. Sure. I've been trying to find somewhere I can go, if I ever... I mean, if I ever do get to have a pack again. I'd need a place away from the den, so. Know a few secret places out of the way.
[ They're not particularly romantic places, but they're safe and secure, at least. He'll just have to figure out which potential lair for the pack he's probably never going to actually have he'd be willing to give up and turn into fucking Makeout Point for a definitely heterosexual teen and his not-boyfriend. ]
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[Tate feels that - strange sort of tension there on the topic but at the same time, it transitions through it so fast and smooth that he's oddly pleased. He doesn't need to elaborate and Derek... understands? He's supportive. Maybe Tate's just projecting what he wants out of this onto Derek an his actions, but he can almost appreciate the overbearingly protective dude's attitude here.
He scratches at his ear though. Still a bit pink.]
If you'll share those, or whatever. It'd be nice. But if not, it's cool. We'll work it out.
[They can go hold hands in the library or some shit.]
Can I ask you another question? Sort of related, but... not really.
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