Since when do you give your full name out on the network? Since when do you tell anyone anything about yourself without it feeling like pulling teeth?
Anyway, it's not a waste of time. If it'll put you a little more at ease, then it's not a waste, and if there is something suspicious, then. Well. We'll be a little more aware and watchful. It's a good idea either way.
[ ok, cool, now that he's gotten 'reassuring supportive boyfriend' out of the way: ]
Also I didn't say hello I said "hey". And I asked you what you were doing and where you were Way to not know how to read.
[ as far as he knows, his name isn't out there. closest thing he's put on the network was D-Pain, so. reassuring supportive boyfriend is right. derek feels a little better. ]
Your face can't read. What are you doing? Where are you.
Technically your eyes aren't your face. Are your eyes your face? You idiot? Are your eyes, specifically, your specific face, specifically? Your face can't read. Wait, neither can your eyes. Your brain can read. Your eyes just filter the information to your brain. Your face and your eyes can't read.
[ ... ]
Doesn't sound suspicious. Where? I'll come meet you.
If I punch your lights out can you still read? No. In this hypothetical your lights are your eyes specifically. So you need your eyes to read. Printed words, before you get all annoying and blah blah well what about blind people and braille? Shut up.
I thought you were going home? Just go home. Why does walking around have to be suspicious? I have legs, I mostly use them for walking. It's a thing.
Whatever. Your eyes are a bridge taking you from Point A (the written word) to Point B (understanding the written word). Your eyes aren't reading. Your brain is making sense of the squiggles and shapes your eyes are looking at. I'm right. You're wrong. Shut up.
Anyway. Wow. Okay. Definitely doesn't sound like you're hooking up with someone right now.
[ look. derek is absolutely right. stiles knows derek is absolutely right, but he's absolutely not about to admit it. just like he's not about to admit that derek speaking intelligently is maybe a little bit of a turn-on. whatever ]
Really? You think I'm hooking up. You think I'm texting you in the middle of a hook-up. I'm flattered you think I'd have that much hand-eye coordination in the middle of getting boned and/or boning, but I'm offended you think I'd hook up with someone so boring that I can have a fully legible conversation with you like it's nothing Or that I'd hook up with anyone at all? Wow.
[ well it's obvious now, when derek does shit like refer to himself as the other woman. stiles is nervous, okay. and when he's nervous, he sometimes gets a little stupid. also derek is an idiot and stiles hates him so much. ]
The Den was all a ruse. I thought if I bought you a house you'd believe you weren't a sidepiece.
[ nevermind that the den is technically being rented and stiles only paid the first couple months rent. also, he - doesn't really like joking about this. ]
Are you going back out I mean before tonight. Do you have plans
[ derek is so close to saying "would've worked better if you put a ring on it", or something stupid like that, but. he gets distracted by the question. ]
I don't have to go. It can wait. Are you sure nothing's going on? You're starting to freak me out.
No. We can go or You can go if you don't want me to come I don't have to come with you I just like invited myself but it's cool Everything's fine, I swear I just need like One minute of your time later You know Whenever
I'd like you to be there. You have a better eye than me. You're smarter than me. You'd see things I wouldn't.
[ he - hesitates. stops walking. he stands in the street, looking down at his phone, feeling kind of sick. he doesn't really think stiles is-- you know, doing anything bad, but more and more this is starting to feel like a breakup in the works. "don't come on my walk with me", "we need to talk". feels like stiles is... leading into saying he still wants to be his friend, still wants to investigate into things with him, but might not want to-- date? anymore.
or something. which doesn't make sense, because the last time he checked, they were both very much in love. maybe the full moon was too much? maybe being his anchor as well as his boyfriend is too much pressure. maybe stiles just wanted to have a nice, normal relationship and derek made it too heavy too fast. maybe he doesn't want to break up, maybe he just.
wants space. or...
he-- wow, he feels kind of dizzy. that's stupid. he's jumping to conclusions, making problems that aren't there. being paranoid, like he is with the mountain ash. he's always fucking paranoid, he's being stupid, he knows they're in love, he knows they're fine. he knows. why the fuck does it matter if stiles doesn't want to walk with him? people don't want to go on walks together sometimes. derek's in the road, doesn't even realize it until a car's honking at him to move. he stares down at his phone. stands in the way on the sidewalk. ]
You literally have better eyes than me. Like semi-scientifically, your eyesight is better. Biologically, that's the word I wanted. Biologically, your eyes are better.
[ stiles checks the time on his phone, realizes it's approaching the time he was told to come back to the jewelers, so he bids his cat-friend adieu outside of submissive housing and starts to trek his way back to the shop.
the cat follows, trilling quietly behind him. stiles stops, turns around completely. shoos it away with a flap of his hand and a half-hearted come on, dude, i'll come back in a day or two. but the cat just bumps up against his leg and then stretched its front paws out, back arched. stiles turns and keeps walking, the cat keeps following, stiles shoos it again, repeats the process twice more by the time his phone buzzes again with another message from derek. stiles stops to answer it, hesitating, his hands feeling a little clammy. ]
It's not I mean actually it kind of is? Important-ish. But it doesn't have to be, like it's Kind of stupid I guess, I don't know.
[ stiles taps his thumb against the side of his phone, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he chews at the inside of his lower lip. he shoves his phone back into his pocket and keeps walking, cat on his heels. the shoddy little jewelry shop isn't that far from the main market, which isn't that far from submissive housing. he can probably make it in under five minutes if he really focuses.
and he does focus. he sends one more text before he steps back inside. ]
I'll be home in like thirty minutes Forty-five tops.
[ in spirit, if not literally. someone clears their throat behind derek, and he turns, seeing some submissive girl bowing her head and looking uncomfortable, like she's ashamed of herself for having to ask a dom to move. he swallows, holds up his hands apologetically and lets her past, and she scuttles down the path like she's ashamed of herself. it makes derek feel like shit, and that makes his paranoia worse, and he can feel himself starting to spiral, so he just - cuts it out. doesn't let himself dwell and worry over fucking nothing like he always does.
stiles tells him he'll be home soon and derek worries over fucking nothing like he always does, but starts heading towards the beach all the same. he keeps his head down and walks pretty fast, turning a corner so he doesn't have to run into that sub again. he taps out a message with his thumb, and he definitely. definitely. doesn't worry over fucking nothing. like he always does. so.
jot that down. ]
If this is important to you, it's important to me. Whatever's going on - I've got your back. I just want you to be happy. So. I mean, I might. Not act like it. At first. Or - ever. But that's just because I'm an asshole. And I'm not good at being with people. I mean, being with people. Like I am with you. If that makes sense. Not that I don't want to be with you. I do. I mean, not that that has any bearing on anything you might want to tell me? Just, yeah. Telling you ahead of time that your happiness is the most important thing to me. Even if I fuck that up.
[ even if he has a tantrum when stiles dumps him, is what he's trying to say. vaguely. so stiles doesn't feel like derek realizes he knows that stiles is about to dump him, which he definitely is. ]
[ stiles wishes he was a cop. or - maybe not a cop, but someone useful like a cop. he and his dad talked about him pursuing a career in law enforcement after he graduated which - stiles tries really hard not to think about that often. graduation, which he's... probably going to miss, so that's cool. and his dad, who he does miss. a lot.
anyway. he's not a cop. he's just - a nosy teenager who doesn't know how to leave anything alone.
stiles... misses all of this. this entire message, all of it, because he's talking to the jeweler he dropped a scrap of steel off with earlier, confirming that yes, this is what he was after, this is what he wanted, and yes, he will be paying a little extra under the table since he doesn't have a dom physically with him, and then - he's off. it doesn't come in a box, because that too would cost extra and while he's not strapped for money, he's still conscious of being reasonable with what he does have - so it's handed off to him wrapped in a small square of silky material, which is then tucked into a tiny cloth drawstring bag. stiles puts it in his pocket, steps out of the store and makes for the train.
the cat is still there, but by now stiles has stopped trying to wave it away, mildly distracted and more-than-mildly nervous. it'll probably abandon him by the time he reaches the train, anyway.
it doesn't. it waits by his feet, and when the train pulls up and stiles steps on, it follows him, wandering toward the back of the train first before returning to stiles' feet where he stands, sprawling out on the floor in front of his shoes. stiles huffs a small, vaguely amused laugh, and remembers, finally, to check his phone.
and all of it makes him even more nervous. what is derek even talking about? ]
What? Derek, nothing is going on. But you're starting to make me feel like I should be asking you if something's going on? I mean I thought you were joking About the home-wrecking thing but I mean Were you Trying to tell me something? Like reverse-trying to tell me something?
[ i'm not good at being with people, repeatedly pointing out that stiles' happiness is the most important thing. seemingly out of nowhere. stiles' stomach twists. his mouth feels a little dry, the back of his neck feels a little hot with heat and a thin layer of sweat. the cat at his feet bats lazily at his shoelace. ]
[ stiles says nothing. stiles says nothing, and that's horrible, because derek is left alone with all these stupid, horrible thoughts rattling around in his skull - the ones he told himself not to think about. images, unbidden, of stiles telling somebody else that he loves them. weird, passive jealousy over stiles' ex-girlfriend, over the time he spent pining over lydia, which doesn't make any sense, because they're not here, and getting in his head about relationships that aren't real, getting jealous when stiles has expressly told him he's been in love with him for a solid two years, seems like the stupidest, most disrespectful thing he could do.
but. but. what if he hasn't been enough? what if stiles built up all these expectations about the kind of boyfriend derek would be, over those two years, and derek's only been loud and frustrating and-- bad. what if stiles hoped for better than what derek gave him. what if, what if, what if.
what if he stops being a stupid baby and has a fucking shower to cool off. what if that.
derek heads into the bathroom, habitually reaching up to take off his jacket before realizing with an annoyed start that tate fucking stole it from him the last time they talked, and that only makes his bad mood worse. he feels childish and small and idiotic, distracting himself from baseless worries about stiles by thinking about baseless worries about mountain ash. it's weird that there are rowan trees in just - one section of the park, right? they're not sanctioned off, and maybe they're actually in other parts of the park, too, but.
feels like they were put there for him. which is paranoid. they're trees, right? jesus, maybe the full moon is still sticking to his skin. he needs to get over himself.
derek showers, gets dry, changes into something soft and sleepy, a burgundy sweater with sleeves that he pulls completely over his hands and cream-white track pants that are fuzzy as hell on the inside. he walks barefoot to the kitchen, feels a pang of guilt when he sees the milk in the fridge door. he closes it without getting a drink, and his phone vibrates in his pocket. derek reads his message while he heads to the living room, and the whole den just feels... small. they need to buy a tv, just for the background noise. ]
No. Sorry.
[ and - it hits him, suddenly, that he doesn't have to just - hold this shit in. doesn't have to dwell in his own paranoia, doesn't have to beat himself up, making problems worse and worse because he has unexamined anxiety issues. stiles loves him. he knows, deep in his chest, that stiles is in love with him, and that if he just - asks? - all these worries, all these pointless, self-built concerns, will just - go. because stiles is his anchor. stiles wants to be his anchor. he just has to believe him, trust him. he just has to love him back. ]
I kind of got in my head. This'll sound stupid.
I thought maybe you were going to break up with me? But you're not. Doing that. You're just on a walk. And I'm just being paranoid. And you want to talk, but. Not about breaking up with me.
[ stiles distracts himself with the cat. he goes from standing and holding onto the rail above his head to just - flat out sitting on the floor of the train, probably where most people think he deserves to be, with the line marking the center of his throat, but he doesn't care. he sets his phone in the space between his folded legs and reaches his hands out, lightly drumming his fingers against the cat's stomach while murmuring random bullshit to it about how cats don't take trains because they're cats, someone's probably going to miss it if it stays away from submissive housing for too long even though stiles is pretty sure it's a stray. the cat wraps its paws around one of stiles' hands and bites at the space between his thumb and forefinger, playfully kicking at his wist with it's back legs.
stiles smiles a little, one eye squinting slightly because the biting kind of hurts, but it's not hard enough to break the skin so he doesn't pull his hand away until his phone vibrates against his leg. it takes a little coaxing to get his hand free.
jesus christ. stiles slumps back against the metal paneling that makes up part of the train wall, absently wiggling his toes in his sneaker when the cat goes for a shoelace again. his thumbs tap quickly, maybe a little too hard on the screen. ]
What? Seriously? You thought I had plans to come home and break up with you? Why would I want to do that? Like seriously, name one good reason that isn't self-deprecating BS. Wait, do I seem unhappy? Is that why you kept bringing up my happiness? Because I swear I am Happy I mean I swear I'm happy not unhappy
[ the train starts to slow as it approaches the main station in the up. stiles gently bats the cats paws away from his shoelaces so he can stand up, losing his balance a little as the train throws the brakes on a little harder. he manages not to end up on his face though, and when it finally comes to a stop and the doors open, stiles kind of feels like he wants to run the rest of the way home.
he doesn't, though. but he wants to. he walks instead - it's not far, anyway. just a little farther than the nearest bus stop to the den. plus, if he ran, he'd probably just look like he was running from a stray cat, and he's not about to set himself up for that kind of embarrassment. stiles sends one more text, just in case the message wasn't clear. ]
[ stiles cuts derek down so quickly and so successfully that he feels less reassured for being stupid and more just lightly humiliated for being stupid in the first place. he's relieved, obviously, but he's also mad at himself for needing to be relieved in the first place, and he takes a long, long moment to just stare at the ceiling and dwell in his feelings.
kate fucking ruined his self-esteem. it's only been getting worse, since finding out about home, about his failures as an alpha. he knows he's been getting less and less easy to deal with, but jumping from i'm going on a walk to i want to break up with you was such a clingy, weak-willed leap that he just. jesus. needs to be better.
derek lays down. in the living room. he drops onto the hardwood and stares up at the ceiling, vaulted and distant. ]
You don't seem unhappy.
[ dot dot dot. ]
You seem really happy, actually. It's hard to believe. Sometimes. That I could make you happy like that. So I get in my head. But that's the kind of stupid, insecure shit someone's supposed to grow out of when they're young. So. Not gonna apologize, because that's annoying, but I am going to tell you that I love you and that you're even more of an idiot than me, which is a fucking feat and a half.
[ ,,,,, dot dot dot. ]
Do you ever think... about our future, though? Not - about how it'll work, with this place being... temporary. But about. Us. In general.
[ stiles has mastered walking and texting but he has not quite mastered walking and texting and dodging a cat that seems to want to keep up with him as much as it wants to trip him up by weaving through his legs, trying to rub up against his calves. it's about as charming as it is frustrating, but all it means is that stiles is just slightly slower than his usual pace.
which is fine, because he can just keep texting derek to pass the time. ]
I mean as long as we're admitting you're a pretty big idiot.
[ . . . ]
What do you think I do all night when I can't sleep?
[ okay, so he does a lot of things when he can't sleep. thinks about a lot of things, but his future with derek is one of those things that comes up occasionally. one of those thing that either makes him feel really good or really bad depending on his state of mind at the time. mostly, it's a good thing, but sometimes he gets caught up in his own head, and he thinks about all the things that could go wrong. he thinks about all the things derek might start to hate about him, all the ways he'll fall short because he's - human, or just. nothing special. it's not an unfamiliar spiral. ]
I think about it, yeah. I used to think about it a lot before, too. After that summer Like it was really stupid but I would like zone out sometimes You know, daydream about what it would be like if you liked me the way I wanted you to Why? What do you think about it? Or do you... not think about it?
[ ever. derek answers fast, tapping his thumbs against his phone so unnecessarily heavily that they feel actively uncomfortable. it's good, knowing that stiles thinks about this sort of thing too. he isn't exactly saying yeah, one day we're going to have kids and tax breaks and a white picket fence around our werewolf den that you probably set up super far from civilization, completely disregarding our kid's needs to stay in one of the more decent school districts, but he thinks stiles is closer to that than not. that's the vibe he's getting.
which is a much better vibe than, you know. the vibe that he's barrelling towards a sudden surprise breakup, or whatever. ]
I think about us a lot. Details change. Sometimes it works out in my head. Sometimes it doesn't. But.
[ but it always comes back to that same point - he doesn't want this to end. derek rolls onto his side, his shoulderblades starting to hurt from laying directly on the floor. his sleeves are riding up his wrists a little, so he flaps them back down with a shake of his arms, typing on his phone through the fabric. it's slippery and kind of complicated, but he just. likes the warmth. likes being cozy. ]
I want you to be my last one. Tired of getting my heart broken. If it doesn't work out, then. That's okay. You deserve the fucking world, Stilinski. If I'm not a part of giving you that, one day, then - fine, as long as you find someone who can be. But.
I don't know. I know I'm not going to grow old. I don't think anybody in my family has ever grown old. But I'd like to grow as old with you as I can.
[ stiles' heart beats a little faster, but it's just because he's - happy. his phone buzzes in his hands and he reads the message and he's happy about it because it's exactly how he feels, too. what he has with derek has only really just begun, but it already feels like he's had him forever, and maybe that's just - young love, or whatever, but what he has with derek, this connection - it doesn't feel like anything stiles has ever experienced before.
he stops for a moment, thumbs ready to knock out a response, but derek's texts keep coming. stiles absently chews at the edge of his thumb nail. his heart stutters just a little over sometimes it doesn't, but - it's okay. it's... realistic, to have those thoughts, to feel those doubts, sometimes. it's what he has to tell himself late at night when he gets too far into his head.
the rest of what derek says pulls him back, though. the rest of what he says kind of overwhelms stiles, actually. it's - a lot, and it's probably some of the kindest things anyone has ever said to or about him. i want you to be my last one, you deserve the fucking world, i'd like to grow old with you. jesus fffriggin christ.
stiles looks away from his phone for a second, moving it out of the way so he can look down at the cat sitting just a little ways away from him, trying to clean its neck and chest. he looks back at his phone, and then lifts his head. he's almost home. he can literally see the den from where he's standing. he looks down again, thumbs moving rapidly while he walks. ]
I'll die before I break your heart I've almost died for a lot of things and a lot of people so don't test me on that because you'll lose I swear on my life Are you home yet? Please tell me you're home.
[ stiles doesn't really wait for a response though, because less than a minute later he's heading up the steps to the den, taking them two at a time. he fumbles through his pockets for his keys, drops them twice, but finally manages to get the door unlocked and slide it open. as he's about to step inside, the cat that's followed him all the way home just... darts past his ankles inside. like it fucking owns the place, just struts right inside before stiles can do anything to stop it.
stiles hisses under his breath, tripping over his own feet as he scrambles to get inside. ]
No, no, no, hey. Shit, hey, you can't - that's trespassing. You can't just— oh my god, okay, you're just. Gone.
[ his cat-friend wanders off around a corner, chill as fuck, apparently, and one hundred percent ignoring stiles. like most people do. go figure. stiles makes a frustrated little sound in the back of his throat, then slides the front door closed behind himself, locking it up and setting his keys down on the nearest surface. he turns and waits by the door for a handful of seconds, listening for his boyfriend or the cat so he can try and track either of them down, but it's... quiet. stiles leans slightly, eyebrows raising slowly. ]
... Derek?
[ stiles starts to take his sneakers off, hopping a little on one foot as he pushes his shoe off of his heel. he sets it aside neatly somewhere, then steps on the back of his other shoe and pulls his foot out of it, joining it up with its twin before he starts to wander through the den.
stiles finds derek first. in the living room. on the living room floor to be exact, looking - well, actually, looking pretty comfortable. soft? he definitely looks soft. ]
Uh, hey?
[ he blinks - and then the cat wanders in from the opposite side of the room. stiles' eyes widen a little - not because he's expecting all hell to break loose or anything, but. well, this wasn't exactly in his plans for today and he's not really up for being yelled at for letting a stray animal into the house. even though it definitely let itself in and stiles had every intention of leaving it outside. he still has every intention of putting it back outside.
derek doesn't doubt him. how could he? stiles has been nothing but kind and devoted and brave since the second they met. fuck, he first saw stiles while he was trespassing on private property, helping scott search out his inhaler, hours after his dad had caught him snooping around in the reserve. it took derek a while to see it, but being devoted to the people he loves and having an innate willingness to be hurt for them is just - who he is.
though - that's not entirely true, is it? that wasn't the first time they met. stiles was that poor, sad kid left behind at the station that derek only caught a glimpse of after the fire, when they were both struggling to figure out what to do now that their moms were gone. they've always had that connection; an innate relationship with death, and the fear of loss that it carries. the guilt of being the one who survived.
derek cycles through a dozen and one responses. a thousand different ways to say i love you surge through him, but none of them feel like enough. he's still struggling to reply when he hears steps leading up to the den, and his mood significantly lightens when stiles drops his keys - twice - like a fucking idiot. he snorts, but he doesn't move to get up. he rests his phone on his chest with one hand, covering his eyes with his other forearm.
the door opens, and derek smells a cat.
he doesn't answer, when stiles calls out for him. he half-sits up, bending his waist and resting on his elbows, and he distantly hears stiles giving orders to the cat, which absolutely doesn't do anything to ease the apprehension rising in his spine. the cat runs past the living room and doesn't even notice him, just cockily traipsing along down the hall like its lived here for years, and derek watches it go, mildly annoyed. not all that annoyed, actually. kind of hard to be annoyed at anything, after the love of your life tells you they'd die before they break your heart.
the cat comes back, having wandered in from derek's gym, and stiles finally takes the time to join them. the cat's jaunty and confident until it lays its eyes on derek, and it's like his own apprehension is reflected back at him. its back arches and its tail goes straight, flicking lightly at the very tip, and it doesn't move. derek wishes it would move. it's just - staring. is this how people feel when he stares at them? fuck, how invasive. derek looks at stiles, and - ]
Jesus Christ. You were getting a cat? Kind of wish you'd just dumped me.
[ - sighs, resigned. he can't bring himself to be all that angry, so there's no risk of him freaking out here, but he'll admit, if pressed, that he would have preferred to be consulted about this. if stiles wants a cat, then - fine? derek wouldn't have said no. he just... would have made it clear that it's stiles' responsibility and not his own, and then given a restrictive list of things it can and can't do. at threat of execution.
which is maybe why stiles didn't tell him he was getting a cat, he guesses. derek rolls his sleeves up his arms and boosts himself up, forcing himself to sit up straight. he crosses his legs, brushes his fingers through his hair, then scratches the very tip of his nose. the cat still looks like it's having a standoff with a ghost, and derek nods his head towards it. ]
[ stiles honestly doesn't know who he's telling not to freak out. the cat itself looks plenty freaked out already, which is - not all that surprising, considering what scott told him about the cats at deaton's when he first started working there, and how much they hated him. he stands there with his hands out still, his eyes darting back and forth between his boyfriend and the cat he's been feeding for weeks now.
derek seems... fine. a little pissed off, which is also not that surprising, but is still kind of annoying because - this is not how he thought this was gonna go. the plan was to go out while derek was out, get a ring made, chill with this cat while he waited, pick the ring up, and then get the nervous sweats up until he decided to give derek the ring in his pocket just - because.
and how he's got a cat that looks like it's stuck in the middle of its flight or fight response, and a boyfriend who looks less than impressed with him... who also thinks he was out adopting a cat.
stiles rears his head back a little and drops his hands a little too quickly, palms slapping against his thighs. he straightens up, takes his eyes off the cat to look at derek, his brows furrowed sharply and his eyes narrowed. ]
... What? No. What? I wasn't getting a cat, I was getting— I wasn't getting a cat.
[ stiles loaf-hands for a second and then slowly starts to step toward the cat in question. he speaks to derek without looking at him. ]
It... followed me home. I've been feeding it since before we moved here, back when I still lived— back before the den. And I was feeding it today while I was waiting, and it followed me. I was going to leave it outside, but it just - I told it it was trespassing. Let me just—
[ stiles purposely steps in front of derek so he's blocking him from the cat's view, and then carefully starts to drop into a crouch, holding his hand out. he speaks to it quietly, trying to coax it closer while also inching closer himself. the cat still seems unsure, tail a little fluffed up near the base, body listing to try and see around stiles. stiles carefully touches his fingertips to its head, between the ears, and smooths its fur back. ]
There you. Come on. Let's get you back outside. Where there is - one less werewolf, huh? I tried to tell you.
[ he inches forward a little more, then scoops the cat up, his knees popping quietly as he stands. he keeps one hand on the back of the cat's neck, his other arm supporting the rest of it and holding it to his chest. he takes it to the front door, where he struggles to unlock it with one hand while holding a slightly-wriggling cat, but he gets it open far enough to deposit the cat back outside. stiles sets it down, strokes its head once almost somewhat apologetically, keeping his voice low. ]
Sorry, buddy. If I knew you were following me so you could commit a B&E, I'd have stopped you before you got on the train. ... Okay, technically just an E, but. I'll come see you tomorrow, dude.
[ the cat just - meows at him and plops down on the top step in the sun. which is good enough for stiles, so he sighs and closes the door back up. he comes back to the living room, stops. stands there kind of awkwardly. ]
[ well, the cat's not jumping on him and trying to claw his eyes out, so honestly, as far as his experiences with animals go - this one barely scratches bottom 15. derek's still too at peace with himself and with stiles to really do much more than bristle, but the ugly, horrible thing stands there like a stunned mullet, and it's really starting to creep him out. he sighs through his nose, lifts his hand to massage a kink in his jaw, and the cat startles and jumps like it's expecting derek to take a fucking run at it.
stiles says he wasn't getting a cat, and derek gestures at the terrified little pissball standing a few feet away from him like he's presenting a fucking shamwow. stiles keeps talking, says it followed him home, and derek sighs, because that makes more sense than the alternative. of course stiles would have talked to him. they're supposed to talk to each other about everything. derek's slow to do that sometimes, if only because he's spent years and years and years getting used to keeping things to himself, but stiles is socially adjusted and capable of overcoming his traumas without turning into an incompetent fucking statue, so. of course he would talk to him about a cat.
derek gets hidden behind stiles' legs and stiles takes the thing outside, and derek watches him go. he feels guilty. he feels guilty, and when he watches stiles kneeling down, dropping his voice like he doesn't want to be heard by any keen werewolf ears, and talks to the cat like he's already in love with it - the guilt gets worse.
then stiles is back, creeping through the sliding door and shutting it behind him, and derek takes the time to properly stand, smoothing down his sweater and hitching up his sweats after they start to ride down. stiles is this awkward, bony thing standing in the archway like he doesn't know what to do with himself, and derek's the lumbering, hulking idiot who feels weirdly uncomfortable.
derek looks at stiles. wets his lips. feels tense. and -
very quietly, like he fucking knew he was going to regret saying this, even before the words left his mouth - derek winces, looking at stiles with a resigned grimace. ]
You can't just leave it outside.
[ cats are outside animals. wolves are outside animals. they could definitely just leave it outside, and derek, more than anyone, deeply, concretely understands that it would be completely fucking fine.
[ derek looks - cozy. that's the first thing he notices now that he's not distracted by an intruder and the potential for animalistic disaster. he looks clean and warm and stiles kind of wants to rub his face against his shoulder, which is weird. so he doesn't. instead, he rocks his weight back onto his heels and slides his hands into his pockets because he doesn't know what to do with them. or he tries to, anyway, but his ring catches on the edge of his pocket, which just makes the movement more awkward, so he tugs that hand free and lifts it to scratch along the edge of his jaw instead. his other hand sinks in smoothly, fingers pushing up against the little cloth bag tucked in his pocket.
stiles swallows quietly, trying ignore the small surge of nervousness that rolls through him rather suddenly, and then tension he's starting to pick up from derek. he flings his hand out from his jaw toward him, literally a second away from apologizing for the stupid cat even though it's not like he led it back to the den on purpose, and he definitely didn't invite it inside.
derek beats him, though, so he's just left standing there with his hand out and his mouth open as he tilts back onto flat feet. stiles blinks, then cranes his hand over toward the front door. ]
... It came from outside. Like, it's - from outside. It's a stray.
[ he looks confused? but also like he's... not really sure what he's saying. like, he's obviously stating facts her, but he looks like he kind of wishes he wasn't? his face is a mess, basically. he drops his hand. ]
I'm not leaving it— I put it back where it came fr— I'm confused. You thought I went and adopted a cat and hated the idea even though that's - not what I was doing. I put the cat outside, where it came from - but I can't put - the cat outside? ... What?
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Since when do you give your full name out on the network?
Since when do you tell anyone anything about yourself without it feeling like pulling teeth?
Anyway, it's not a waste of time. If it'll put you a little more at ease, then it's not a waste, and if there is something suspicious, then.
Well. We'll be a little more aware and watchful.
It's a good idea either way.
[ ok, cool, now that he's gotten 'reassuring supportive boyfriend' out of the way: ]
Also I didn't say hello I said "hey".
And I asked you what you were doing and where you were
Way to not know how to read.
no subject
[ as far as he knows, his name isn't out there. closest thing he's put on the network was D-Pain, so. reassuring supportive boyfriend is right. derek feels a little better. ]
Your face can't read.
What are you doing? Where are you.
no subject
And they're part of my face
So technically you're wrong but okay.
I'm
Out for a walk
You know, getting that exercise in
Nothing exciting or even remotely interesting.
no subject
Are your eyes your face? You idiot? Are your eyes, specifically, your specific face, specifically?
Your face can't read.
Wait, neither can your eyes. Your brain can read. Your eyes just filter the information to your brain.
Your face and your eyes can't read.
[ ... ]
Doesn't sound suspicious.
Where? I'll come meet you.
no subject
No.
In this hypothetical your lights are your eyes specifically.
So you need your eyes to read.
Printed words, before you get all annoying and blah blah well what about blind people and braille?
Shut up.
I thought you were going home?
Just go home.
Why does walking around have to be suspicious?
I have legs, I mostly use them for walking.
It's a thing.
no subject
[ ... aille. fuck. started typing too soon. ]
Whatever.
Your eyes are a bridge taking you from Point A (the written word) to Point B (understanding the written word). Your eyes aren't reading. Your brain is making sense of the squiggles and shapes your eyes are looking at.
I'm right.
You're wrong.
Shut up.
Anyway. Wow. Okay.
Definitely doesn't sound like you're hooking up with someone right now.
no subject
Really?
You think I'm hooking up.
You think I'm texting you in the middle of a hook-up.
I'm flattered you think I'd have that much hand-eye coordination in the middle of getting boned and/or boning, but I'm offended you think I'd hook up with someone so boring that I can have a fully legible conversation with you like it's nothing
Or that I'd hook up with anyone at all?
Wow.
no subject
Wait.
Am I the other woman? Did you turn me into a homewrecker?
[ he doesn't think stiles is hooking up with anybody. obviously he doesn't fuckin' believe stiles is hooking up with anybody. ]
no subject
The Den was all a ruse.
I thought if I bought you a house you'd believe you weren't a sidepiece.
[ nevermind that the den is technically being rented and stiles only paid the first couple months rent. also, he - doesn't really like joking about this. ]
Are you going back out
I mean before tonight.
Do you have plans
no subject
I don't have to go. It can wait.
Are you sure nothing's going on? You're starting to freak me out.
no subject
You can go if you don't want me to come
I don't have to come with you
I just like invited myself but it's cool
Everything's fine, I swear
I just need like
One minute of your time later
You know
Whenever
no subject
[ he - hesitates. stops walking. he stands in the street, looking down at his phone, feeling kind of sick. he doesn't really think stiles is-- you know, doing anything bad, but more and more this is starting to feel like a breakup in the works. "don't come on my walk with me", "we need to talk". feels like stiles is... leading into saying he still wants to be his friend, still wants to investigate into things with him, but might not want to-- date? anymore.
or something. which doesn't make sense, because the last time he checked, they were both very much in love. maybe the full moon was too much? maybe being his anchor as well as his boyfriend is too much pressure. maybe stiles just wanted to have a nice, normal relationship and derek made it too heavy too fast. maybe he doesn't want to break up, maybe he just.
wants space. or...
he-- wow, he feels kind of dizzy. that's stupid. he's jumping to conclusions, making problems that aren't there. being paranoid, like he is with the mountain ash. he's always fucking paranoid, he's being stupid, he knows they're in love, he knows they're fine. he knows. why the fuck does it matter if stiles doesn't want to walk with him? people don't want to go on walks together sometimes. derek's in the road, doesn't even realize it until a car's honking at him to move. he stares down at his phone. stands in the way on the sidewalk. ]
This sounds kind of important?
no subject
Like semi-scientifically, your eyesight is better.
Biologically, that's the word I wanted.
Biologically, your eyes are better.
[ stiles checks the time on his phone, realizes it's approaching the time he was told to come back to the jewelers, so he bids his cat-friend adieu outside of submissive housing and starts to trek his way back to the shop.
the cat follows, trilling quietly behind him. stiles stops, turns around completely. shoos it away with a flap of his hand and a half-hearted come on, dude, i'll come back in a day or two. but the cat just bumps up against his leg and then stretched its front paws out, back arched. stiles turns and keeps walking, the cat keeps following, stiles shoos it again, repeats the process twice more by the time his phone buzzes again with another message from derek. stiles stops to answer it, hesitating, his hands feeling a little clammy. ]
It's not
I mean actually it kind of is? Important-ish.
But it doesn't have to be, like it's
Kind of stupid I guess, I don't know.
[ stiles taps his thumb against the side of his phone, taking a deep breath in through his nose as he chews at the inside of his lower lip. he shoves his phone back into his pocket and keeps walking, cat on his heels. the shoddy little jewelry shop isn't that far from the main market, which isn't that far from submissive housing. he can probably make it in under five minutes if he really focuses.
and he does focus. he sends one more text before he steps back inside. ]
I'll be home in like thirty minutes
Forty-five tops.
no subject
You're a cop.
[ in spirit, if not literally. someone clears their throat behind derek, and he turns, seeing some submissive girl bowing her head and looking uncomfortable, like she's ashamed of herself for having to ask a dom to move. he swallows, holds up his hands apologetically and lets her past, and she scuttles down the path like she's ashamed of herself. it makes derek feel like shit, and that makes his paranoia worse, and he can feel himself starting to spiral, so he just - cuts it out. doesn't let himself dwell and worry over fucking nothing like he always does.
stiles tells him he'll be home soon and derek worries over fucking nothing like he always does, but starts heading towards the beach all the same. he keeps his head down and walks pretty fast, turning a corner so he doesn't have to run into that sub again. he taps out a message with his thumb, and he definitely. definitely. doesn't worry over fucking nothing. like he always does. so.
jot that down. ]
If this is important to you, it's important to me.
Whatever's going on - I've got your back. I just want you to be happy. So.
I mean, I might. Not act like it. At first. Or - ever.
But that's just because I'm an asshole. And I'm not good at being with people.
I mean, being with people. Like I am with you. If that makes sense.
Not that I don't want to be with you. I do.
I mean, not that that has any bearing on anything you might want to tell me?
Just, yeah. Telling you ahead of time that your happiness is the most important thing to me.
Even if I fuck that up.
[ even if he has a tantrum when stiles dumps him, is what he's trying to say. vaguely. so stiles doesn't feel like derek realizes he knows that stiles is about to dump him, which he definitely is. ]
Anyway. I'm nearly home.
I'll talk to you soon?
no subject
anyway. he's not a cop. he's just - a nosy teenager who doesn't know how to leave anything alone.
stiles... misses all of this. this entire message, all of it, because he's talking to the jeweler he dropped a scrap of steel off with earlier, confirming that yes, this is what he was after, this is what he wanted, and yes, he will be paying a little extra under the table since he doesn't have a dom physically with him, and then - he's off. it doesn't come in a box, because that too would cost extra and while he's not strapped for money, he's still conscious of being reasonable with what he does have - so it's handed off to him wrapped in a small square of silky material, which is then tucked into a tiny cloth drawstring bag. stiles puts it in his pocket, steps out of the store and makes for the train.
the cat is still there, but by now stiles has stopped trying to wave it away, mildly distracted and more-than-mildly nervous. it'll probably abandon him by the time he reaches the train, anyway.
it doesn't. it waits by his feet, and when the train pulls up and stiles steps on, it follows him, wandering toward the back of the train first before returning to stiles' feet where he stands, sprawling out on the floor in front of his shoes. stiles huffs a small, vaguely amused laugh, and remembers, finally, to check his phone.
and all of it makes him even more nervous. what is derek even talking about? ]
What?
Derek, nothing is going on.
But you're starting to make me feel like I should be asking you if something's going on?
I mean I thought you were joking
About the home-wrecking thing but I mean
Were you
Trying to tell me something?
Like reverse-trying to tell me something?
[ i'm not good at being with people, repeatedly pointing out that stiles' happiness is the most important thing. seemingly out of nowhere. stiles' stomach twists. his mouth feels a little dry, the back of his neck feels a little hot with heat and a thin layer of sweat. the cat at his feet bats lazily at his shoelace. ]
no subject
but. but. what if he hasn't been enough? what if stiles built up all these expectations about the kind of boyfriend derek would be, over those two years, and derek's only been loud and frustrating and-- bad. what if stiles hoped for better than what derek gave him. what if, what if, what if.
what if he stops being a stupid baby and has a fucking shower to cool off. what if that.
derek heads into the bathroom, habitually reaching up to take off his jacket before realizing with an annoyed start that tate fucking stole it from him the last time they talked, and that only makes his bad mood worse. he feels childish and small and idiotic, distracting himself from baseless worries about stiles by thinking about baseless worries about mountain ash. it's weird that there are rowan trees in just - one section of the park, right? they're not sanctioned off, and maybe they're actually in other parts of the park, too, but.
feels like they were put there for him. which is paranoid. they're trees, right? jesus, maybe the full moon is still sticking to his skin. he needs to get over himself.
derek showers, gets dry, changes into something soft and sleepy, a burgundy sweater with sleeves that he pulls completely over his hands and cream-white track pants that are fuzzy as hell on the inside. he walks barefoot to the kitchen, feels a pang of guilt when he sees the milk in the fridge door. he closes it without getting a drink, and his phone vibrates in his pocket. derek reads his message while he heads to the living room, and the whole den just feels... small. they need to buy a tv, just for the background noise. ]
No. Sorry.
[ and - it hits him, suddenly, that he doesn't have to just - hold this shit in. doesn't have to dwell in his own paranoia, doesn't have to beat himself up, making problems worse and worse because he has unexamined anxiety issues. stiles loves him. he knows, deep in his chest, that stiles is in love with him, and that if he just - asks? - all these worries, all these pointless, self-built concerns, will just - go. because stiles is his anchor. stiles wants to be his anchor. he just has to believe him, trust him. he just has to love him back. ]
I kind of got in my head.
This'll sound stupid.
I thought maybe you were going to break up with me?
But you're not. Doing that.
You're just on a walk. And I'm just being paranoid. And you want to talk, but.
Not about breaking up with me.
no subject
stiles smiles a little, one eye squinting slightly because the biting kind of hurts, but it's not hard enough to break the skin so he doesn't pull his hand away until his phone vibrates against his leg. it takes a little coaxing to get his hand free.
jesus christ. stiles slumps back against the metal paneling that makes up part of the train wall, absently wiggling his toes in his sneaker when the cat goes for a shoelace again. his thumbs tap quickly, maybe a little too hard on the screen. ]
What?
Seriously?
You thought I had plans to come home and break up with you?
Why would I want to do that?
Like seriously, name one good reason that isn't self-deprecating BS.
Wait, do I seem unhappy? Is that why you kept bringing up my happiness?
Because I swear I am
Happy I mean I swear I'm happy not unhappy
[ the train starts to slow as it approaches the main station in the up. stiles gently bats the cats paws away from his shoelaces so he can stand up, losing his balance a little as the train throws the brakes on a little harder. he manages not to end up on his face though, and when it finally comes to a stop and the doors open, stiles kind of feels like he wants to run the rest of the way home.
he doesn't, though. but he wants to. he walks instead - it's not far, anyway. just a little farther than the nearest bus stop to the den. plus, if he ran, he'd probably just look like he was running from a stray cat, and he's not about to set himself up for that kind of embarrassment. stiles sends one more text, just in case the message wasn't clear. ]
I love you
You idiot.
no subject
kate fucking ruined his self-esteem. it's only been getting worse, since finding out about home, about his failures as an alpha. he knows he's been getting less and less easy to deal with, but jumping from i'm going on a walk to i want to break up with you was such a clingy, weak-willed leap that he just. jesus. needs to be better.
derek lays down. in the living room. he drops onto the hardwood and stares up at the ceiling, vaulted and distant. ]
You don't seem unhappy.
[ dot dot dot. ]
You seem really happy, actually.
It's hard to believe. Sometimes. That I could make you happy like that.
So I get in my head. But that's the kind of stupid, insecure shit someone's supposed to grow out of when they're young. So.
Not gonna apologize, because that's annoying, but I am going to tell you that I love you and that you're even more of an idiot than me, which is a fucking feat and a half.
[ ,,,,, dot dot dot. ]
Do you ever think... about our future, though?
Not - about how it'll work, with this place being... temporary.
But about.
Us.
In general.
no subject
which is fine, because he can just keep texting derek to pass the time. ]
I mean as long as we're admitting you're a pretty big idiot.
[ . . . ]
What do you think I do all night when I can't sleep?
[ okay, so he does a lot of things when he can't sleep. thinks about a lot of things, but his future with derek is one of those things that comes up occasionally. one of those thing that either makes him feel really good or really bad depending on his state of mind at the time. mostly, it's a good thing, but sometimes he gets caught up in his own head, and he thinks about all the things that could go wrong. he thinks about all the things derek might start to hate about him, all the ways he'll fall short because he's - human, or just. nothing special. it's not an unfamiliar spiral. ]
I think about it, yeah.
I used to think about it a lot before, too.
After that summer
Like it was really stupid but I would like zone out sometimes
You know, daydream about what it would be like if you liked me the way I wanted you to
Why?
What do you think about it?
Or do you... not think about it?
no subject
[ ever. derek answers fast, tapping his thumbs against his phone so unnecessarily heavily that they feel actively uncomfortable. it's good, knowing that stiles thinks about this sort of thing too. he isn't exactly saying yeah, one day we're going to have kids and tax breaks and a white picket fence around our werewolf den that you probably set up super far from civilization, completely disregarding our kid's needs to stay in one of the more decent school districts, but he thinks stiles is closer to that than not. that's the vibe he's getting.
which is a much better vibe than, you know. the vibe that he's barrelling towards a sudden surprise breakup, or whatever. ]
I think about us a lot.
Details change. Sometimes it works out in my head. Sometimes it doesn't.
But.
[ but it always comes back to that same point - he doesn't want this to end. derek rolls onto his side, his shoulderblades starting to hurt from laying directly on the floor. his sleeves are riding up his wrists a little, so he flaps them back down with a shake of his arms, typing on his phone through the fabric. it's slippery and kind of complicated, but he just. likes the warmth. likes being cozy. ]
I want you to be my last one.
Tired of getting my heart broken.
If it doesn't work out, then. That's okay. You deserve the fucking world, Stilinski. If I'm not a part of giving you that, one day, then - fine, as long as you find someone who can be.
But.
I don't know. I know I'm not going to grow old. I don't think anybody in my family has ever grown old.
But I'd like to grow as old with you as I can.
no subject
he stops for a moment, thumbs ready to knock out a response, but derek's texts keep coming. stiles absently chews at the edge of his thumb nail. his heart stutters just a little over sometimes it doesn't, but - it's okay. it's... realistic, to have those thoughts, to feel those doubts, sometimes. it's what he has to tell himself late at night when he gets too far into his head.
the rest of what derek says pulls him back, though. the rest of what he says kind of overwhelms stiles, actually. it's - a lot, and it's probably some of the kindest things anyone has ever said to or about him. i want you to be my last one, you deserve the fucking world, i'd like to grow old with you. jesus fffriggin christ.
stiles looks away from his phone for a second, moving it out of the way so he can look down at the cat sitting just a little ways away from him, trying to clean its neck and chest. he looks back at his phone, and then lifts his head. he's almost home. he can literally see the den from where he's standing. he looks down again, thumbs moving rapidly while he walks. ]
I'll die before I break your heart
I've almost died for a lot of things and a lot of people so don't test me on that because you'll lose
I swear on my life
Are you home yet?
Please tell me you're home.
[ stiles doesn't really wait for a response though, because less than a minute later he's heading up the steps to the den, taking them two at a time. he fumbles through his pockets for his keys, drops them twice, but finally manages to get the door unlocked and slide it open. as he's about to step inside, the cat that's followed him all the way home just... darts past his ankles inside. like it fucking owns the place, just struts right inside before stiles can do anything to stop it.
stiles hisses under his breath, tripping over his own feet as he scrambles to get inside. ]
No, no, no, hey. Shit, hey, you can't - that's trespassing. You can't just— oh my god, okay, you're just. Gone.
[ his cat-friend wanders off around a corner, chill as fuck, apparently, and one hundred percent ignoring stiles. like most people do. go figure. stiles makes a frustrated little sound in the back of his throat, then slides the front door closed behind himself, locking it up and setting his keys down on the nearest surface. he turns and waits by the door for a handful of seconds, listening for his boyfriend or the cat so he can try and track either of them down, but it's... quiet. stiles leans slightly, eyebrows raising slowly. ]
... Derek?
[ stiles starts to take his sneakers off, hopping a little on one foot as he pushes his shoe off of his heel. he sets it aside neatly somewhere, then steps on the back of his other shoe and pulls his foot out of it, joining it up with its twin before he starts to wander through the den.
stiles finds derek first. in the living room. on the living room floor to be exact, looking - well, actually, looking pretty comfortable. soft? he definitely looks soft. ]
Uh, hey?
[ he blinks - and then the cat wanders in from the opposite side of the room. stiles' eyes widen a little - not because he's expecting all hell to break loose or anything, but. well, this wasn't exactly in his plans for today and he's not really up for being yelled at for letting a stray animal into the house. even though it definitely let itself in and stiles had every intention of leaving it outside. he still has every intention of putting it back outside.
stiles puts his hands out a little. ]
Uh, so. Don't... freak out? Hold on.
no subject
derek doesn't doubt him. how could he? stiles has been nothing but kind and devoted and brave since the second they met. fuck, he first saw stiles while he was trespassing on private property, helping scott search out his inhaler, hours after his dad had caught him snooping around in the reserve. it took derek a while to see it, but being devoted to the people he loves and having an innate willingness to be hurt for them is just - who he is.
though - that's not entirely true, is it? that wasn't the first time they met. stiles was that poor, sad kid left behind at the station that derek only caught a glimpse of after the fire, when they were both struggling to figure out what to do now that their moms were gone. they've always had that connection; an innate relationship with death, and the fear of loss that it carries. the guilt of being the one who survived.
derek cycles through a dozen and one responses. a thousand different ways to say i love you surge through him, but none of them feel like enough. he's still struggling to reply when he hears steps leading up to the den, and his mood significantly lightens when stiles drops his keys - twice - like a fucking idiot. he snorts, but he doesn't move to get up. he rests his phone on his chest with one hand, covering his eyes with his other forearm.
the door opens, and derek smells a cat.
he doesn't answer, when stiles calls out for him. he half-sits up, bending his waist and resting on his elbows, and he distantly hears stiles giving orders to the cat, which absolutely doesn't do anything to ease the apprehension rising in his spine. the cat runs past the living room and doesn't even notice him, just cockily traipsing along down the hall like its lived here for years, and derek watches it go, mildly annoyed. not all that annoyed, actually. kind of hard to be annoyed at anything, after the love of your life tells you they'd die before they break your heart.
the cat comes back, having wandered in from derek's gym, and stiles finally takes the time to join them. the cat's jaunty and confident until it lays its eyes on derek, and it's like his own apprehension is reflected back at him. its back arches and its tail goes straight, flicking lightly at the very tip, and it doesn't move. derek wishes it would move. it's just - staring. is this how people feel when he stares at them? fuck, how invasive. derek looks at stiles, and - ]
Jesus Christ. You were getting a cat? Kind of wish you'd just dumped me.
[ - sighs, resigned. he can't bring himself to be all that angry, so there's no risk of him freaking out here, but he'll admit, if pressed, that he would have preferred to be consulted about this. if stiles wants a cat, then - fine? derek wouldn't have said no. he just... would have made it clear that it's stiles' responsibility and not his own, and then given a restrictive list of things it can and can't do. at threat of execution.
which is maybe why stiles didn't tell him he was getting a cat, he guesses. derek rolls his sleeves up his arms and boosts himself up, forcing himself to sit up straight. he crosses his legs, brushes his fingers through his hair, then scratches the very tip of his nose. the cat still looks like it's having a standoff with a ghost, and derek nods his head towards it. ]
These things don't like me. Just so you know.
no subject
derek seems... fine. a little pissed off, which is also not that surprising, but is still kind of annoying because - this is not how he thought this was gonna go. the plan was to go out while derek was out, get a ring made, chill with this cat while he waited, pick the ring up, and then get the nervous sweats up until he decided to give derek the ring in his pocket just - because.
and how he's got a cat that looks like it's stuck in the middle of its flight or fight response, and a boyfriend who looks less than impressed with him... who also thinks he was out adopting a cat.
stiles rears his head back a little and drops his hands a little too quickly, palms slapping against his thighs. he straightens up, takes his eyes off the cat to look at derek, his brows furrowed sharply and his eyes narrowed. ]
... What? No. What? I wasn't getting a cat, I was getting— I wasn't getting a cat.
[ stiles loaf-hands for a second and then slowly starts to step toward the cat in question. he speaks to derek without looking at him. ]
It... followed me home. I've been feeding it since before we moved here, back when I still lived— back before the den. And I was feeding it today while I was waiting, and it followed me. I was going to leave it outside, but it just - I told it it was trespassing. Let me just—
[ stiles purposely steps in front of derek so he's blocking him from the cat's view, and then carefully starts to drop into a crouch, holding his hand out. he speaks to it quietly, trying to coax it closer while also inching closer himself. the cat still seems unsure, tail a little fluffed up near the base, body listing to try and see around stiles. stiles carefully touches his fingertips to its head, between the ears, and smooths its fur back. ]
There you. Come on. Let's get you back outside. Where there is - one less werewolf, huh? I tried to tell you.
[ he inches forward a little more, then scoops the cat up, his knees popping quietly as he stands. he keeps one hand on the back of the cat's neck, his other arm supporting the rest of it and holding it to his chest. he takes it to the front door, where he struggles to unlock it with one hand while holding a slightly-wriggling cat, but he gets it open far enough to deposit the cat back outside. stiles sets it down, strokes its head once almost somewhat apologetically, keeping his voice low. ]
Sorry, buddy. If I knew you were following me so you could commit a B&E, I'd have stopped you before you got on the train. ... Okay, technically just an E, but. I'll come see you tomorrow, dude.
[ the cat just - meows at him and plops down on the top step in the sun. which is good enough for stiles, so he sighs and closes the door back up. he comes back to the living room, stops. stands there kind of awkwardly. ]
... Sorry. Hi. That wasn't - supposed to happen.
no subject
stiles says he wasn't getting a cat, and derek gestures at the terrified little pissball standing a few feet away from him like he's presenting a fucking shamwow. stiles keeps talking, says it followed him home, and derek sighs, because that makes more sense than the alternative. of course stiles would have talked to him. they're supposed to talk to each other about everything. derek's slow to do that sometimes, if only because he's spent years and years and years getting used to keeping things to himself, but stiles is socially adjusted and capable of overcoming his traumas without turning into an incompetent fucking statue, so. of course he would talk to him about a cat.
derek gets hidden behind stiles' legs and stiles takes the thing outside, and derek watches him go. he feels guilty. he feels guilty, and when he watches stiles kneeling down, dropping his voice like he doesn't want to be heard by any keen werewolf ears, and talks to the cat like he's already in love with it - the guilt gets worse.
then stiles is back, creeping through the sliding door and shutting it behind him, and derek takes the time to properly stand, smoothing down his sweater and hitching up his sweats after they start to ride down. stiles is this awkward, bony thing standing in the archway like he doesn't know what to do with himself, and derek's the lumbering, hulking idiot who feels weirdly uncomfortable.
derek looks at stiles. wets his lips. feels tense. and -
very quietly, like he fucking knew he was going to regret saying this, even before the words left his mouth - derek winces, looking at stiles with a resigned grimace. ]
You can't just leave it outside.
[ cats are outside animals. wolves are outside animals. they could definitely just leave it outside, and derek, more than anyone, deeply, concretely understands that it would be completely fucking fine.
but it followed stiles home. ]
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stiles swallows quietly, trying ignore the small surge of nervousness that rolls through him rather suddenly, and then tension he's starting to pick up from derek. he flings his hand out from his jaw toward him, literally a second away from apologizing for the stupid cat even though it's not like he led it back to the den on purpose, and he definitely didn't invite it inside.
derek beats him, though, so he's just left standing there with his hand out and his mouth open as he tilts back onto flat feet. stiles blinks, then cranes his hand over toward the front door. ]
... It came from outside. Like, it's - from outside. It's a stray.
[ he looks confused? but also like he's... not really sure what he's saying. like, he's obviously stating facts her, but he looks like he kind of wishes he wasn't? his face is a mess, basically. he drops his hand. ]
I'm not leaving it— I put it back where it came fr— I'm confused. You thought I went and adopted a cat and hated the idea even though that's - not what I was doing. I put the cat outside, where it came from - but I can't put - the cat outside? ... What?
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