[ Derek chooses not to reply, largely because he knows from experience that sending out an annoyed Tate in response would only lead to more goading. For a minute or two, Derek just leaves his phone beside him as he focuses on working out, lifting the last few weights of his set before he's supposed to shift off to cardio. He doesn't, though - it's just sticking in his side and being mildly annoying to know that Tate's in his bathroom using his hot water without permission and acting like a brat for seemingly no reason. This was cute and all when Derek was a Dom, but it gets under his skin, now, having someone walk over him like this.
So - he stands, wiping the sweat off his brow with the towel he brought in here, and bails from the home gym to walk to the end of the hall. True to his word, the shower's running, and Derek goes to open the door to the bathroom - only to find that it's locked. He turns the handle again, annoyed when it doesn't, like, magically come unlocked the second time he turns it. ]
[ Yeah, he did, unfortunately. There's a moment of silence as Derek shifts his weight to his other foot and reads his newest message, then an irritated sigh as he responds out loud. ]
[Tate's not even in the shower yet - he's loitering by the sink, typing on his phone and looking up at the door as if he knows Derek can see him right through it. He casts a glance to the shower, where the water's hot enough to steam up against the tile and flood the room with humidity. As if to be one step closer to his lie, he starts nudging off his sneakers one by one.]
what do u want go back 2 ur dumbbells or whatever u can shower after me
[ He doesn't even know what he would do if Tate opened the door right now, honestly. He was just pressed about the insults, pressed about the vague, Tate-style air of disrespect, and wanted to have a conversation face to face. Now that he knows even that's not happening, he just - sighs.
He kinda walks away. Not really. He takes a few steps away from the door and leans against the wall leading to the bathroom, but his shadow is still visible, so it's obvious he hasn't gone far. He's just gonna stand here and wait for his turn, then, if that's apparently all he's allowed to do. In his own home. ]
[It's probably too obvious, he thinks, for Derek to know if he's really showering or not. Being a ghost-like entity floating around is one thing and for a moment he clings to that, letting the shower be the only thing making noise. But then he settles into reality, his heart beat a gentle, weak thud that he knows Derek'll pick up. And do what with, he's not sure.]
[ There's another delay, but only because Derek is ignoring his phone out of spite. He checks it a minute or two later, then types up his reply, just because he doesn't want to stand here talking through a doorway to someone who won't respond. ]
Which bed?
[ Because - there's the guest room bed, the one he crashes in more often than not, and then there's his bed, left mostly untouched except on the worst of his bad nights. He would've assumed Tate meant the guest bed, if Tate wasn't clearly acting out over something. ]
[Deliberately avoiding being too specific - because he's not sure if he can or if that'll be one push too far. He just wants to now reel it back to before he pushed his luck and pissed Derek off, so he isn't left out in the cold. Speaking of which, the room gets hotter and he one-handedly unbuttons his jeans to keep stripping down in a lazy, lazy way.]
[ Not said in a bad way, by any means, but maybe that doesn't come through over text. Derek's just going to give Tate the benefit of the doubt here and assumes he means the guest room, rather than the bed he keeps fucking locked away and off limits, and he types out a quick reply. ]
If you want to share the bed, we can share the bed. You could've just asked, rather than subject me to your anti-werewolf comedy hour.
jokes r jokes. u didn't need to take it so personally
[Off comes the shirt, his phone clicking as he sets it down on the counter and fumbles - the first give away beyond the sound of fabric bunching at the floor as he steps out of his jeans - that he's not already farther into his shower than he's let on.]
[ just a big, long sigh. he doesn't hide how loud it is. ]
I told you to say please and you wouldn't. You wanted to come over and shower with me. I don't know how it got in your head that you have the upper hand, here. I'm the one who should be making demands like that.
[A pause, a little shuffling and then Tate opens the bathroom door - just enough of a sliver to peer out and to show that he's naked. Completely. The angle of the door shows a v of his body, shoulder down to bare thigh but nothing more - just lots of pale skin, passive brown eyes and wild halo of curls. He stares at Derek for a long moment, almost like he's about to say something before he'll just close the door again.]
[ It's not like being weird and antagonistic-without-being-antagonistic is new for Tate, exactly, but this is still sticking to Derek's ribs in a way he can't quite explain. It feels like Tate's flirting with him playfully just as much as it feels like he's genuinely upset about something and expressing himself through acting difficult, and Derek doesn't really know what tone to take with him. He opens the door just enough for Derek to see him, and Derek watches, alert, holding eye contact. He drifts closer, stopping right in front of the bathroom, just as Tate shuts the door.
Mostly shuts the door, at least. Derek reaches his hand out and keeps it ajar, looking at Tate through the sliver of a gap he keeps open, barely the width of his fingers. He stares at Tate in silence, the sliver of him he can see, and he thinks about caving. He chooses not to. ]
[Tate isn’t surprised that Derek catches the door with his hand to keep it from closing. He keeps his hands on the other side of the door, but doesn’t apply a lot of force almost as if he wants Derek to barge in. Or he’s just holding on enough to keep this back and forth going for a little while longer. He peers to the side, looking through he significantly smaller gap.]
[ There's no venom in his voice. He's still just - very cautious, like he's unsure what tack to take. Derek withdraws his fingers from the gap so that Tate can close the door completely, if he likes, but he's hoping he won't. ]
You're acting like a Dom. Telling me what to do, ignoring what I say.
[Tate asks, not yet closing the door. He lets the gap sit, his hands withdrawing to his sides so that the door stays ajar on its own. He could be testing Derek here or he could just be experimenting with what he’s supposed to be doing. Being a dom.]
[ Well, if he's being tested, he's probably failed. The act of asking if he's mad is kind of what makes Derek mad, and even though he doesn't say as much, he still frowns, clearly annoyed by the question. Tate asks what he wants and though there's still no bite in Derek's words, he's impatient. Frustrated, maybe. ]
Honesty. That's the only thing I've ever wanted from you.
[ Derek steps forward, pressing his fingertips against the door. He doesn't open it completely, but he does add the slightest amount of pressure to make it creak inward and widen the gap. ]
Tell me how you're feeling. I can't tell if you're trying to get fucked or trying to pick a fight.
[And that’s an honest answer, with Tate hesitating after speaking. There have been a few things recently that have made him feel a lot of unidentifiable emotion that he’s ill equipped to deal with that. Especially when he’s dealing with his jealousy over Derek. He swallows hard and puts his fingers on the door knob, twitching it inward a bit.]
[ Ah, man, that's no good. Derek looks at Tate for a few seconds longer before pushing the door inward against Tate's hand. He's asking for permission to come in, now, even if he's not using the words. ]
Did something happen...?
[ Because - well, this is how Tate feels when something's gone wrong, right? He loses control of himself, gets out of his own head, stumbles blindly through whatever it is he's feeling. This is - minor, honestly, given that Tate isn't getting high or screaming in anyone's face or tearing at his hair, but Derek's become too paranoid of what happens around Tate when you don't walk on eggshells. The last thing he wants to do is trigger a moodswing. ]
[Tate lets the door come in, hand falling to his side before he crosses it over his chest - touching to his other arm by the elbow, shrinking in a bit. He steps back into the bathroom, where the steam is dampening his hair and making it stick to his brow as he looks up at Derek. He wets his lips, and sighs.]
I just want us to - do something. If you don't want to fuck, then I don't care if we fight. I just... I just need something.
[He needs to ignite and explode, because that's all he knows how to do to get rid of the feelings in his chest. He's never learned another way and in death, may never be able to. He's kindled fire and he doesn't know how to calm what's simmering.]
[ Derek wants to push, but pushing Tate has never been a good idea. He heads into the bathroom and takes him in properly, now, smooth skin and as lean as ever, unchanged since the day they met. It hasn't hit him before, really, just how static Tate is. He wonders if he looks different now than he did back before Fort Harmony. ]
I don't want to fight you.
[ He's not getting undressed - but he's shutting the door behind him, locking it as if there's any chance of someone invading the moment Tate's been trying to carve out for them. He steps towards Tate and brushes his hands against his sides, looking down and grazing his fingernails down his hips. ]
[Derek enters and part of Tate relaxes, better figuring the way this is going to. He doesn't shrink away, he lets his arms hang at his sides as Derek approaches and just looks up at Derek with watchful brown eyes that for once don't ebb into black in the illuminating light of the bathroom. There's so much in him right now that isn't settled, but he wants it to be.]
Tell me - tell me I matter.
[That sounds pathetic, but he doesn't know how to jump the subject.]
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[He says, still acting all invisible ghost and turning on the shower - hottest to hot.]
or is it that time of the month for u
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So - he stands, wiping the sweat off his brow with the towel he brought in here, and bails from the home gym to walk to the end of the hall. True to his word, the shower's running, and Derek goes to open the door to the bathroom - only to find that it's locked. He turns the handle again, annoyed when it doesn't, like, magically come unlocked the second time he turns it. ]
Tate.
[ zero respect for one another's privacy. ]
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im in the shower
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You can't lock me out of my own house, Tate.
[ Not exactly what this is, but. Hey. ]
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what do u want
go back 2 ur dumbbells or whatever
u can shower after me
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He kinda walks away. Not really. He takes a few steps away from the door and leans against the wall leading to the bathroom, but his shadow is still visible, so it's obvious he hasn't gone far. He's just gonna stand here and wait for his turn, then, if that's apparently all he's allowed to do. In his own home. ]
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can we share the bed
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Which bed?
[ Because - there's the guest room bed, the one he crashes in more often than not, and then there's his bed, left mostly untouched except on the worst of his bad nights. He would've assumed Tate meant the guest bed, if Tate wasn't clearly acting out over something. ]
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[Deliberately avoiding being too specific - because he's not sure if he can or if that'll be one push too far. He just wants to now reel it back to before he pushed his luck and pissed Derek off, so he isn't left out in the cold. Speaking of which, the room gets hotter and he one-handedly unbuttons his jeans to keep stripping down in a lazy, lazy way.]
dont put me on the couch
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[ Not said in a bad way, by any means, but maybe that doesn't come through over text. Derek's just going to give Tate the benefit of the doubt here and assumes he means the guest room, rather than the bed he keeps fucking locked away and off limits, and he types out a quick reply. ]
If you want to share the bed, we can share the bed.
You could've just asked, rather than subject me to your anti-werewolf comedy hour.
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[Off comes the shirt, his phone clicking as he sets it down on the counter and fumbles - the first give away beyond the sound of fabric bunching at the floor as he steps out of his jeans - that he's not already farther into his shower than he's let on.]
bet u want a shower rn huh
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I don't know. Do I?
Not exactly interested in sharing a shower with you if you're just going to keep your eyes on your phone the whole time.
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say the magic word and i'll unlock the door
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I told you to say please and you wouldn't.
You wanted to come over and shower with me.
I don't know how it got in your head that you have the upper hand, here. I'm the one who should be making demands like that.
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say it
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Mostly shuts the door, at least. Derek reaches his hand out and keeps it ajar, looking at Tate through the sliver of a gap he keeps open, barely the width of his fingers. He stares at Tate in silence, the sliver of him he can see, and he thinks about caving. He chooses not to. ]
... Why? You could just invite me in.
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You’re not being much fun.
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[ There's no venom in his voice. He's still just - very cautious, like he's unsure what tack to take. Derek withdraws his fingers from the gap so that Tate can close the door completely, if he likes, but he's hoping he won't. ]
You're acting like a Dom. Telling me what to do, ignoring what I say.
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[Tate asks, not yet closing the door. He lets the gap sit, his hands withdrawing to his sides so that the door stays ajar on its own. He could be testing Derek here or he could just be experimenting with what he’s supposed to be doing. Being a dom.]
What would you rather?
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Honesty. That's the only thing I've ever wanted from you.
[ Derek steps forward, pressing his fingertips against the door. He doesn't open it completely, but he does add the slightest amount of pressure to make it creak inward and widen the gap. ]
Tell me how you're feeling. I can't tell if you're trying to get fucked or trying to pick a fight.
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[And that’s an honest answer, with Tate hesitating after speaking. There have been a few things recently that have made him feel a lot of unidentifiable emotion that he’s ill equipped to deal with that. Especially when he’s dealing with his jealousy over Derek. He swallows hard and puts his fingers on the door knob, twitching it inward a bit.]
I just... I want something and I don’t know what.
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Did something happen...?
[ Because - well, this is how Tate feels when something's gone wrong, right? He loses control of himself, gets out of his own head, stumbles blindly through whatever it is he's feeling. This is - minor, honestly, given that Tate isn't getting high or screaming in anyone's face or tearing at his hair, but Derek's become too paranoid of what happens around Tate when you don't walk on eggshells. The last thing he wants to do is trigger a moodswing. ]
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I just want us to - do something. If you don't want to fuck, then I don't care if we fight. I just... I just need something.
[He needs to ignite and explode, because that's all he knows how to do to get rid of the feelings in his chest. He's never learned another way and in death, may never be able to. He's kindled fire and he doesn't know how to calm what's simmering.]
So just do something, okay?
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I don't want to fight you.
[ He's not getting undressed - but he's shutting the door behind him, locking it as if there's any chance of someone invading the moment Tate's been trying to carve out for them. He steps towards Tate and brushes his hands against his sides, looking down and grazing his fingernails down his hips. ]
I love you. I never want to fight you.
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Tell me - tell me I matter.
[That sounds pathetic, but he doesn't know how to jump the subject.]
More than anyone else.
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