Do what you want. If you actually buy a snake, though - or a hyena, for that matter - I'm taking Trisk from the treehouse. She's going to live with me.
[ she basically already does, with how often she wanders over, but. still. ]
You can't do this. You can't message me, get me to stop everything I'm doing with the promise of sex, ask me for a hyena and then talk shit about my cat. I'm not going to allow it.
i liked the way you just did what i asked without questioning it. i like it when you do that stuff. means you really care about me. i care about you too, you know.
[Which is why he's sending a photo of himself very much naked, albeit lounging on the main level sofa of the treehouse. He's got one hand over his dick, but not a lot's left to the imagination otherwise.]
[ a pause. he'll come to tate - derek's already been packing up a bit, but he rushes through the tail end of it while he texts. ]
I still do what you ask. I still take care of you. I try to, at least. It's harder, now.
[ being a sub. ]
I didn't ever question you because I was scared of upsetting you. If I question you now, it's just because we've moved beyond that. That's a good thing. Healthy.
[Whatever you can call this now - he still doesn't know if he holds a candle to what Derek had with Stiles, but he still hopes for that kind of devotion. He still has such an empty chest, wanting to leech warmth and affection out of any source. Derek's doing good to feed him it, but will it ever sate him the way it should? He doesn't know. He just knows that he needs to keep a hold of this and never, ever let it go. He'll do whatever it takes to protect this feeling.]
[ if they weren't in duplicity, if there wasn't so much baggage between them, if he hadn't seen tate at what derek falsely believes to be his worst - there's a dozen different reasons behind derek saying that he likes what they are, even if he thinks they could be more, but he's distracted and only half here when he says as much. it's just - a gut reaction.
he finishes cleaning up before long, heading upstairs into the den to change. he showers, fast as he can, washing away the sweat and the sun that comes from working outside, but only a few minutes later he's in clean clothes and making his way to the tree house. his hair's still wet as he wanders through the woods. ]
Never been called a dickface before. Least of all after an I love you.
[Something sobering about the fact Derek's reply is 'we could be better', paired with a delay before he comes over. Tate's taken a little ride so far with this conversation, driving it through seduction to mockery and back again but now he's left sitting up in the living area of the treehouse feeling... uncertain by what was just said. We could be better. That has a weight to it that Tate takes on a little too personally, curling forward and chewing on his nails. He sits in silence until Derek dotes on him with another few words.]
[ The cats are outside, unsurprisingly, eyes turning to stare at Derek the second his footsteps start crunching over dead leaves. It's getting hotter, now, and the woods isn't the easiest place to be right now, especially for Derek, who already runs hot as it is - he'd spoken to Tate before about moving him to the den back when the treehouse needed maintenance, and the conversation never really went anywhere, but he's gonna try again. Beats sweating through his clothes. ]
Yeah. I'm coming up.
[ A couple of seconds later, Derek's heading inside, swallowing the second he sets his eyes on Tate. He's - beautiful, of course, like he always is, falsely angelic. Derek isn't the type to overthink how he should act, but he's still torn between thinking Tate wants this to be a serious meeting or assuming he's just fucking with him, about to put clothes on the second Derek walks closer to the couch. He's not sure what to do. ]
[And just like Derek runs hot, Tate often runs cold - he hasn't broken a sweat in the treehouse, and his skin has an unnatural pallor to it when he sits forward and briefly puts parts of himself in shadow. Then, just as quick and vivid, he looks every part the lively spirited teenager he wants to be, color not yet rushing to his face but his eyes catch the light with a glimmer against their jetblack.]
Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]
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but some therapy's better than none, right?
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Just - you know. Keep me updated. Like you said you would.
[ ... ]
I'll worry, otherwise.
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[All his bad decisions are yours to find out about, Derek.]
who knows, maybe she'll be like harmon and call me a freak and that'll be it
gotta shoot your shot or whatever, right?
i want a hyena now though
or a snake
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I'm not buying you a hyena.
Or a snake.
Just go play with the hermit crabs on the beach.
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One of your six dozen cats might, though.
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If you actually buy a snake, though - or a hyena, for that matter - I'm taking Trisk from the treehouse. She's going to live with me.
[ she basically already does, with how often she wanders over, but. still. ]
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I'm not going to apologize.
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if i got a snake it'd probably let itself be eaten by it
barely can drink water without drowning
guess i can't let her die
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You can't message me, get me to stop everything I'm doing with the promise of sex, ask me for a hyena and then talk shit about my cat.
I'm not going to allow it.
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[ there's a delay. ]
I mean, I wouldn't say no.
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come to the treehouse then. your cat's licking the wallpaper anyway
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Forget it. This isn't fun.
There was a time where you were pretty desperate to sleep with me, you know.
You used to care a lot more.
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i liked the way you just did what i asked without questioning it.
i like it when you do that stuff. means you really care about me.
i care about you too, you know.
[Which is why he's sending a photo of himself very much naked, albeit lounging on the main level sofa of the treehouse. He's got one hand over his dick, but not a lot's left to the imagination otherwise.]
i can come to you if you want
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I still do what you ask. I still take care of you.
I try to, at least. It's harder, now.
[ being a sub. ]
I didn't ever question you because I was scared of upsetting you.
If I question you now, it's just because we've moved beyond that.
That's a good thing.
Healthy.
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What we are.
[Whatever you can call this now - he still doesn't know if he holds a candle to what Derek had with Stiles, but he still hopes for that kind of devotion. He still has such an empty chest, wanting to leech warmth and affection out of any source. Derek's doing good to feed him it, but will it ever sate him the way it should? He doesn't know. He just knows that he needs to keep a hold of this and never, ever let it go. He'll do whatever it takes to protect this feeling.]
I love you
dickface.
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[ if they weren't in duplicity, if there wasn't so much baggage between them, if he hadn't seen tate at what derek falsely believes to be his worst - there's a dozen different reasons behind derek saying that he likes what they are, even if he thinks they could be more, but he's distracted and only half here when he says as much. it's just - a gut reaction.
he finishes cleaning up before long, heading upstairs into the den to change. he showers, fast as he can, washing away the sweat and the sun that comes from working outside, but only a few minutes later he's in clean clothes and making his way to the tree house. his hair's still wet as he wanders through the woods. ]
Never been called a dickface before.
Least of all after an I love you.
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guess things could be better.
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Yeah.
I'm coming up.
[ A couple of seconds later, Derek's heading inside, swallowing the second he sets his eyes on Tate. He's - beautiful, of course, like he always is, falsely angelic. Derek isn't the type to overthink how he should act, but he's still torn between thinking Tate wants this to be a serious meeting or assuming he's just fucking with him, about to put clothes on the second Derek walks closer to the couch. He's not sure what to do. ]
... Hey.
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Come here.
[He says quietly, pleading as he stands - feeling shaky on his legs, not knowing what we could be better is supposed to translate to. All he knows is he needs to prove to Derek they're good, they're already great, and he can give him better. He can make them better by showing him just how much they mean to him. He steps forward gingerly, reaching out for Derek and beckoning him toward him in the same motion. He puts his hands to Derek with need, curling into his clothes and holding on to him like he's putting down an anchor.
Tate tips up his chin and pursues a kiss, curling one hand around the back of Derek's head and combing his fingertips through his hair. He rakes them down the nape of his neck, grazing his nails harder over his skin to bring a tingle through it and he breathes in shallow little breaths between bouts of liplock he doesn't want to stop. We could be better, he said to him. How?]
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