[ part of why it's so awkward when derek steps inside is because he absolutely heard the lab equipment rattle. derek doesn't say anything, but he certainly draws attention to the fact that he knows. he looks at stiles with his eyebrows raised, that expression he's been using more and more lately where he's emotively calling him an idiot while being too considerate of his feelings to actually say the word out loud. they love each other very much, and derek makes no secret of that fact, but he's still kind of learning not to be as much of a grump as he'd like to be.
still, stiles guides him further in, points him towards the library. derek walks kind of slowly, with lumbering legs and long steps, like he's walking in a museum and the only people around are working security. he sets most of the boxes down for stiles on the table he's directed to, and then it feels... awkward, again, because derek wants to ask stiles how he's doing, but he's not sure if covering that before they get out of here is the best use of their time.
he's not sure if stiles wants to pack up rosalind's lab alone, either - maybe it'd be too difficult for him to be here by himself, or maybe he feels more comfortable doing this by himself after how often he worked with everything here - but he ultimately takes the cue to leave as a hint and treats it as such. ]
I'll just be back there then, okay? Door's open, so. Just... call me.
[ and with that, derek heads down with the one or two boxes he kept for himself from the pile, ducking his head into rosalind's library. it's... a lot, and he's not entirely sure how to stop feeling like he's robbing someone's grave, but he dutifully gets to work. he doesn't grab everything, at first, because it feels... sad, leaving these shelves bare, but once he's taken some of her collection it feels kind of worse leaving it half-cleaned out. like an unfinished job, or a bandaid only ripped halfway off.
so he packs up the rest of rosalind's books in silence, and by the time ten, maybe twenty minutes have passed, he ducks his head out back into the lab. he's still not... sure how to act. neutral, maybe. sympathetic. in control. he tries to be a bit of everything. ]
[ for the most part, stiles is okay. rosalind isn't the first person he's cared about that's come and gone. it was scott, first, and that had been - difficult, to say the least. like rosalind's departure, scott's had come without a warning, and stiles spent days looking for him before he made himself give up.
allison had followed shortly after that. stiles had never been as close to allison has he had been with scott, but to carry the secret about her impending death, to shoulder that guilt - to have the opportunity to save her and have that be taken away from him before he could work up the courage to admit his responsibility in everything leading up to her death - that'd been pretty hard, too.
by the third time, people leaving is just - it's almost commonplace. it's something he's feared for a large portion of his life, people leaving. he's built plans around keeping people together, never leaving anyone behind, but if anyone's made similar arrangements, he's certainly not included in any of them.
that's not fair of him, though, to feel that way. as far as anyone knows, nobody comes here by their own free will, and nobody leaves with much of a warning, either. stiles isn't alone. he's still got derek - but what if that changes, too? he could wake up tomorrow to a cold bed and a quiet den, text messages that won't go through, everything gone.
stiles swallows around the tightness in his throat and nods, just to acknowledge that he knows where to find derek if he needs him. he kind of wants to do this alone, though, maybe as some sort of apology for the note he and rosalind last parted on, maybe as some sort of punishment. stiles waits until derek's disappeared down the hall before he starts to move. he circles around to the opposite side of the table rather than drag the boxes over to him, opening them up and folding the bottom of them out. he layers his old overshirt into one of them, spreads it out over the bottom, leaves the sleeves out for now, using his shirt as an extra layer of padding for all the glass.
and then he starts to pack, quiet and almost methodical as he piles everything fragile into the first box, fitting as much into it as he can so there's very little room for anything to shift around. he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back into the box and tucks them in between the rows of glassware so there's less contact and less chance of breakage, layers the cardboard flaps over the top of the box so it holds itself closed without any tape, and then moves onto the second box, filling it with everything else he feels like he should take.
he's just putting the last of it away when derek peeks his head back in. stiles looks up and blinks for a moment, like he's trying to figure how much time has passed, if he's been zoning. it probably hasn't been too long - there wasn't that much stuff to pack up. stiles folds the second box closed, watching his hands for a second before he looks at derek again. ]
Um - fine. I'm just - I'm just kind of worried about the glass stuff, but. I think this is all of it.
[ they're not big boxes, but stacked on top of each other, they're probably about the length between stiles chin and his hips, a little wider than his torso. he doesn't pick them up just yet. ]
[ there are little things about duplicity that derek's been learning how to navigate, even though moving with the grain here make him feel a special kind of sick. at home, he'd pick up stiles' boxes without asking, carrying them - as well as his own - back, so that stiles could rest his arms. here, being a dominant doing work while your submissive trails along behind you carefree earns dirty looks and confused stares. derek could stomach it, if his sub were anyone else, but. he hates when people look at stiles like he's anything less than what he is - someone more deserving of respect than fucking anybody.
so he just says i'm good. he's holding the innards of rosalind's library to his chest, gripping the box with both hands. if stiles is done, then derek should ask if he's ready to leave so they can get out of here before they're seen, but a smaller, more sentimental part of him wants to give stiles a moment to say goodbye to the place. he doesn't make a move to leave, though, not even to wait outside. he just... stands here, looking at his feet.
he hasn't really lost anyone yet. he's just seen stiles lose them. it's hard, being on this side of things. new. he's used to carrying everything. ]
We should do something tonight. Just us.
[ a date, or - at least a movie, or something. something small and pleasant and safe that anchors the two of them together, so that they'll have a solid reminder that they're still here, and that they still have each other, and that maybe things will change eventually, but right now, everything's okay.
he looks up, holding the box of books a little tighter. ]
Maybe just... sit on the beach. Look at the waves. Something like that.
[ they should go. stiles has spent enough time here already, and the longer he stands here in this lab, the worse he kind of feels about - everything. he's not devastated, but - rosalind was one of the first people he met here, right after orientation. she helped him without judgment, became his friend, his mentor, treated him like an equal - for the most part.
she hated his clothes, which had bothered him at the time, but now just seems kind of - silly. he's kind of upset that she didn't take his stupid shirt with her, the one he left behind just to spite her, to see if it would grow on her.
he's not going to get anything else out of standing here in her lab, though, and the longer they stay here, the higher the risk of being caught. stiles wets his lips, hands framing one of the boxes on the table. derek is... too good to him. he didn't have to come help, he didn't have to give stiles a little space, he doesn't have to suggest they do something to keep stiles from dwelling - but he offers these things anyway, because he knows these are things stiles needs without having to ask.
stiles doesn't know what he'll do, if there comes a day that he wakes up and derek isn't there anymore. ]
... Okay.
[ stiles nods, and he says yeah, just as quiet, and he stacks his boxes, sliding them to the edge of the table. the one filled with glassware is heavy, but it's not more than stiles can handle. still, he's careful as he finds his grip and adjusts the weight in his hands, the lighter box tucked under his chin.
the beach sounds... nice. he'd be fine with sitting at home, too, laying in bed with his laptop, watching a movie or playing a game of chess. making dinner together, working on this cat problem - it doesn't matter. all he really wants to do with what's left of the day and the rest of the night is just - spend time with derek.
stiles lifts his chin at derek, indicating that they're okay to go. ]
I'm gonna need you to get the lights. And the door. ... And the elevator.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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still, stiles guides him further in, points him towards the library. derek walks kind of slowly, with lumbering legs and long steps, like he's walking in a museum and the only people around are working security. he sets most of the boxes down for stiles on the table he's directed to, and then it feels... awkward, again, because derek wants to ask stiles how he's doing, but he's not sure if covering that before they get out of here is the best use of their time.
he's not sure if stiles wants to pack up rosalind's lab alone, either - maybe it'd be too difficult for him to be here by himself, or maybe he feels more comfortable doing this by himself after how often he worked with everything here - but he ultimately takes the cue to leave as a hint and treats it as such. ]
I'll just be back there then, okay? Door's open, so. Just... call me.
[ and with that, derek heads down with the one or two boxes he kept for himself from the pile, ducking his head into rosalind's library. it's... a lot, and he's not entirely sure how to stop feeling like he's robbing someone's grave, but he dutifully gets to work. he doesn't grab everything, at first, because it feels... sad, leaving these shelves bare, but once he's taken some of her collection it feels kind of worse leaving it half-cleaned out. like an unfinished job, or a bandaid only ripped halfway off.
so he packs up the rest of rosalind's books in silence, and by the time ten, maybe twenty minutes have passed, he ducks his head out back into the lab. he's still not... sure how to act. neutral, maybe. sympathetic. in control. he tries to be a bit of everything. ]
How's it going?
no subject
allison had followed shortly after that. stiles had never been as close to allison has he had been with scott, but to carry the secret about her impending death, to shoulder that guilt - to have the opportunity to save her and have that be taken away from him before he could work up the courage to admit his responsibility in everything leading up to her death - that'd been pretty hard, too.
by the third time, people leaving is just - it's almost commonplace. it's something he's feared for a large portion of his life, people leaving. he's built plans around keeping people together, never leaving anyone behind, but if anyone's made similar arrangements, he's certainly not included in any of them.
that's not fair of him, though, to feel that way. as far as anyone knows, nobody comes here by their own free will, and nobody leaves with much of a warning, either. stiles isn't alone. he's still got derek - but what if that changes, too? he could wake up tomorrow to a cold bed and a quiet den, text messages that won't go through, everything gone.
stiles swallows around the tightness in his throat and nods, just to acknowledge that he knows where to find derek if he needs him. he kind of wants to do this alone, though, maybe as some sort of apology for the note he and rosalind last parted on, maybe as some sort of punishment. stiles waits until derek's disappeared down the hall before he starts to move. he circles around to the opposite side of the table rather than drag the boxes over to him, opening them up and folding the bottom of them out. he layers his old overshirt into one of them, spreads it out over the bottom, leaves the sleeves out for now, using his shirt as an extra layer of padding for all the glass.
and then he starts to pack, quiet and almost methodical as he piles everything fragile into the first box, fitting as much into it as he can so there's very little room for anything to shift around. he pulls the sleeves of his shirt back into the box and tucks them in between the rows of glassware so there's less contact and less chance of breakage, layers the cardboard flaps over the top of the box so it holds itself closed without any tape, and then moves onto the second box, filling it with everything else he feels like he should take.
he's just putting the last of it away when derek peeks his head back in. stiles looks up and blinks for a moment, like he's trying to figure how much time has passed, if he's been zoning. it probably hasn't been too long - there wasn't that much stuff to pack up. stiles folds the second box closed, watching his hands for a second before he looks at derek again. ]
Um - fine. I'm just - I'm just kind of worried about the glass stuff, but. I think this is all of it.
[ they're not big boxes, but stacked on top of each other, they're probably about the length between stiles chin and his hips, a little wider than his torso. he doesn't pick them up just yet. ]
You? D'you need any help?
no subject
[ there are little things about duplicity that derek's been learning how to navigate, even though moving with the grain here make him feel a special kind of sick. at home, he'd pick up stiles' boxes without asking, carrying them - as well as his own - back, so that stiles could rest his arms. here, being a dominant doing work while your submissive trails along behind you carefree earns dirty looks and confused stares. derek could stomach it, if his sub were anyone else, but. he hates when people look at stiles like he's anything less than what he is - someone more deserving of respect than fucking anybody.
so he just says i'm good. he's holding the innards of rosalind's library to his chest, gripping the box with both hands. if stiles is done, then derek should ask if he's ready to leave so they can get out of here before they're seen, but a smaller, more sentimental part of him wants to give stiles a moment to say goodbye to the place. he doesn't make a move to leave, though, not even to wait outside. he just... stands here, looking at his feet.
he hasn't really lost anyone yet. he's just seen stiles lose them. it's hard, being on this side of things. new. he's used to carrying everything. ]
We should do something tonight. Just us.
[ a date, or - at least a movie, or something. something small and pleasant and safe that anchors the two of them together, so that they'll have a solid reminder that they're still here, and that they still have each other, and that maybe things will change eventually, but right now, everything's okay.
he looks up, holding the box of books a little tighter. ]
Maybe just... sit on the beach. Look at the waves. Something like that.
no subject
she hated his clothes, which had bothered him at the time, but now just seems kind of - silly. he's kind of upset that she didn't take his stupid shirt with her, the one he left behind just to spite her, to see if it would grow on her.
he's not going to get anything else out of standing here in her lab, though, and the longer they stay here, the higher the risk of being caught. stiles wets his lips, hands framing one of the boxes on the table. derek is... too good to him. he didn't have to come help, he didn't have to give stiles a little space, he doesn't have to suggest they do something to keep stiles from dwelling - but he offers these things anyway, because he knows these are things stiles needs without having to ask.
stiles doesn't know what he'll do, if there comes a day that he wakes up and derek isn't there anymore. ]
... Okay.
[ stiles nods, and he says yeah, just as quiet, and he stacks his boxes, sliding them to the edge of the table. the one filled with glassware is heavy, but it's not more than stiles can handle. still, he's careful as he finds his grip and adjusts the weight in his hands, the lighter box tucked under his chin.
the beach sounds... nice. he'd be fine with sitting at home, too, laying in bed with his laptop, watching a movie or playing a game of chess. making dinner together, working on this cat problem - it doesn't matter. all he really wants to do with what's left of the day and the rest of the night is just - spend time with derek.
stiles lifts his chin at derek, indicating that they're okay to go. ]
I'm gonna need you to get the lights. And the door. ... And the elevator.