[ whatever, stiles can support the wildcats all by himself. he's not bothered by derek's lack of team spirit in this particular instance, mostly because he had zero expectations for derek to come through on that, so it's fine. he lets it go easily, will probably think about this exact moment later and wonder why the actual hell he felt the need to make a shitty reference from a disney channel movie he's only seen maybe fifteen non-consecutive minutes of.
anyway. stiles stands there with this look on his face that's half expectant, half unsure as he waits for derek to say something to the blowjob clause. the blowjob addendum. theee blowjob ban, in direct association with this contract they're going to draw up at some point. later today, probably, if stiles has anything to say about it, because he's like 15 hours late with this offer as it is. or however long it's been since derek was first cuffed to a table.
( another thing he'll think about later, probably in the midst of trying to shut his brain down so he can maybe get some actual sleep: no blowjobs in the contract. in the contract. as if that clarification was actually at all necessary. as if the rules are different outside of the contract. he'll wonder what the hell he even meant by that, if he even meant anything at all, or if he was just - making sure he's not obligated to suck someone's dick every hour just because a piece of paper says he has to. and then he probably won't sleep. so that's cool, that's great. excellent. )
derek jokes, though, or at least stiles decides to take it as joking after he circles his own face with his finger like, here, do you see this? have you seen this? do you understand the importance of this? this is art. stiles wants to laugh at him - so he does. it's quiet. a soft chuckle under his breath that crinkles the corners of his eyes, offers a quick flash of his teeth. derek. what a fucking idiot.
stiles holds both of his hands up, palm out, pulses them an inch or two towards derek. hold on. ]
Okay, relax. You're not that pretty. [ said a lying liar who lies. anyway. stiles, by this point, is fairly convinced that the blowjob thing is not at all a serious thing derek is considering putting in the contract, and if he tries it, stiles will just. not sign. or cross that part out half a second before scribbling his name. you know, whatever.
he drops one of his hands, raises the other to rub his palm up his forehead and into his hair, brushing it up so it'll finish drying less... flat. if there are hair products in the showers/bathrooms, he completely overlooked them. which is fair. he hasn't actually slept yet since 5AM the day before, wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders when he dragged himself into the shower. ] All right. All right, let's. Revisit this in a couple hours? Do it for real?
[ stiles experiences a brief spike of anxiety, chases it away with a subtle flail of his hand by his side, kind of like he's trying to shake out pins and needles, but otherwise, he seems fine. with this. he pauses, maybe for a beat too long, because he's thinking about - kneeling, and how much he hates it, but. ]
... Have you eaten yet?
[ obviously not, because the breakfast hour isn't for another twenty or so minutes by stiles' guess, but this is his way of like. asking. for stuff. from derek. like he said he would. like they agreed he would. so. ]
[ stiles laughs. derek doesn't show the relief that floods through him, hands still tight on his hips and posture unflinchingly rigid, but it's there, clearing away so much of the tension that had been building in on itself since he was first called out to the storage shed. all that nervous stumbling, the way stiles tripped over himself when they were verbally shitposting about blowjobs, it... doesn't really stand out to derek as important, and the "no blowjobs in the contract" shoe won't drop until he's had enough time to second guess everything-fucking-else he has to second guess, but.
stiles' smile? that matters. that's all he cares about. well, he cares about zac efron, too. go wildcats.
revisiting this in a couple of hours is fine, listening to a liar lie about how not pretty he is is fine, that's all fine. derek gets through everything stiles says with quiet, affirming nods, and before too long, he's actually ready to leave. he... doesn't think to tell stiles this before he starts to move, nodding again like he's dismissing stiles before taking a short stride towards the front door, but he doesn't get very far. he tries to make his exit the second stiles asks about food, and derek stops, leaning back on his heels.
he frowns. he frowns, and maybe that's not a good sign. derek backtracks, and he moves to stand closer to stiles than he had been before; he stands close enough to really see the softness of his hair, to notice how much better it looks like this than it does when it's been abused by three metric tons of hairgel. he notices the way stiles' skin looks a little pale, the way he looks a little gaunt, the way his uniform sits a little loosely on his body, and these are all things derek had already noticed, but it's - new, now that stiles is someone who is (almost) officially in his care. now that stiles is someone who genuinely asked him for help to survive.
derek senses the spike of anxiety in stiles, though he's not sure if that's because he's starting to understand which Awkward Stiles Flail correlates to which Awkward Stiles Emotion or if he's just feeling anxious himself and projecting a little. his frown tightens.
is that how we're doing this? "have you eaten yet". derek can't decide if this counts as assertive or not, so he's not sure if he should make a big deal of this. should he give stiles shit for not just - saying hey, can we go grab something to eat? should he be happy that stiles isn't just letting himself go hungry? derek makes a noise. hard to say if it's a thoughtful hum or a displeased grunt. somewhere in the middle, maybe. ]
I... could eat.
[ his voice is stiff and even, like he's trying very, very hard to pick his words carefully. his tone is... neutral, and slow, and when derek brings his hand up to his mouth to scratch at his stubble and think his next move through, it doesn't deviate from that. ]
If you could eat.
[ it's not like he wants to pressure stiles to just-- outwardly and explicitly say "i'm starving let me fucking eat you stupid dog", but he wants stiles to at least realize that that's an option. ]
[ derek starts to move and stiles' first instinct is to reach out to stop him, not because he doesn't want him to leave or because he has more to add to this conversation, but. derek has stirred up a lot of shit with who knows how many of the guards in the past twenty-four hours, and they're not exactly supposed to be in this shed if the (now-broken) lock on the door is anything to go by.
if anyone should leave first, it's probably stiles. he's gotten into far less trouble since they were dumped out of the transport vans and into the fort. it's not that he's been complying, but the guards seem far less concerned about a handful of submissives refusing to eat than they do about those who resist and retaliate via more... physical methods. if there are guards around outside, stiles is far less likely to strike a chord as negative as derek probably would, and this way, stiles could at least give derek a little warning.
stiles' hand never makes contact though, because derek stops and then he's stepping back into stiles' space. his hand just hovers there for a moment, still outstretched in the direction derek just moved from. derek is... really close, and though they're practically the same height, derek's close enough that those two inches make a different and stiles actually has to look up at him. the tiny sound he makes is hard to decipher. stiles gets the vague feeling he may have messed up somewhere between telling derek to chill with the self-love and asking if he's hungry.
he's not stupid. he knows that phrasing his wants as a question is skirting around the very thing they just talked about - stiles telling derek, stiles not fucking around when he wants or needs something, but it's not as easy as just flipping a switch. maybe it should be, but it's not. stiles' gaze shift slightly, following the movement of derek's hand as he brings it up to his face, nails scraping quietly through his stubble.
okay. okay, this is only going to work if they're straight forward, and stiles is. hungry. he's really fucking hungry because the only thing he ate yesterday was a handful of grapes and some squished bread and if he doesn't tell derek he's not up for skipping breakfast this time, then he's not going to eat. which ssssucks, but.
stiles breathes in through his nose, slow and deep. he sighs, lowers his gaze just slightly so he's looking more at derek's collar bones than anything else. he nods, absently lifting one hand to drag blunt fingernails through his hair, down the back of his skull. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I could— I'm... starving.
[ there it is. stiles let's that sit there between them for a beat, and then decides that he doesn't really want to just stand there anymore so he glances up briefly, offers a tight, tense little smile, then steps away from derek and toward the door leading out of their little safe space. very carefully, he eases the door open, and that's all he does at first. he stops and he listens. waits. eases the door open a little bit more, far enough so that he can peek his head out.
they're in the clear, and stiles breathes out quietly before stepping out, keeping one hand on the door as he turns to usher derek out with a wave of his other hand. ]
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anyway. stiles stands there with this look on his face that's half expectant, half unsure as he waits for derek to say something to the blowjob clause. the blowjob addendum. theee blowjob ban, in direct association with this contract they're going to draw up at some point. later today, probably, if stiles has anything to say about it, because he's like 15 hours late with this offer as it is. or however long it's been since derek was first cuffed to a table.
( another thing he'll think about later, probably in the midst of trying to shut his brain down so he can maybe get some actual sleep: no blowjobs in the contract. in the contract. as if that clarification was actually at all necessary. as if the rules are different outside of the contract. he'll wonder what the hell he even meant by that, if he even meant anything at all, or if he was just - making sure he's not obligated to suck someone's dick every hour just because a piece of paper says he has to. and then he probably won't sleep. so that's cool, that's great. excellent. )
derek jokes, though, or at least stiles decides to take it as joking after he circles his own face with his finger like, here, do you see this? have you seen this? do you understand the importance of this? this is art. stiles wants to laugh at him - so he does. it's quiet. a soft chuckle under his breath that crinkles the corners of his eyes, offers a quick flash of his teeth. derek. what a fucking idiot.
stiles holds both of his hands up, palm out, pulses them an inch or two towards derek. hold on. ]
Okay, relax. You're not that pretty. [ said a lying liar who lies. anyway. stiles, by this point, is fairly convinced that the blowjob thing is not at all a serious thing derek is considering putting in the contract, and if he tries it, stiles will just. not sign. or cross that part out half a second before scribbling his name. you know, whatever.
he drops one of his hands, raises the other to rub his palm up his forehead and into his hair, brushing it up so it'll finish drying less... flat. if there are hair products in the showers/bathrooms, he completely overlooked them. which is fair. he hasn't actually slept yet since 5AM the day before, wasn't exactly firing on all cylinders when he dragged himself into the shower. ] All right. All right, let's. Revisit this in a couple hours? Do it for real?
[ stiles experiences a brief spike of anxiety, chases it away with a subtle flail of his hand by his side, kind of like he's trying to shake out pins and needles, but otherwise, he seems fine. with this. he pauses, maybe for a beat too long, because he's thinking about - kneeling, and how much he hates it, but. ]
... Have you eaten yet?
[ obviously not, because the breakfast hour isn't for another twenty or so minutes by stiles' guess, but this is his way of like. asking. for stuff. from derek. like he said he would. like they agreed he would. so. ]
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stiles' smile? that matters. that's all he cares about. well, he cares about zac efron, too. go wildcats.
revisiting this in a couple of hours is fine, listening to a liar lie about how not pretty he is is fine, that's all fine. derek gets through everything stiles says with quiet, affirming nods, and before too long, he's actually ready to leave. he... doesn't think to tell stiles this before he starts to move, nodding again like he's dismissing stiles before taking a short stride towards the front door, but he doesn't get very far. he tries to make his exit the second stiles asks about food, and derek stops, leaning back on his heels.
he frowns. he frowns, and maybe that's not a good sign. derek backtracks, and he moves to stand closer to stiles than he had been before; he stands close enough to really see the softness of his hair, to notice how much better it looks like this than it does when it's been abused by three metric tons of hairgel. he notices the way stiles' skin looks a little pale, the way he looks a little gaunt, the way his uniform sits a little loosely on his body, and these are all things derek had already noticed, but it's - new, now that stiles is someone who is (almost) officially in his care. now that stiles is someone who genuinely asked him for help to survive.
derek senses the spike of anxiety in stiles, though he's not sure if that's because he's starting to understand which Awkward Stiles Flail correlates to which Awkward Stiles Emotion or if he's just feeling anxious himself and projecting a little. his frown tightens.
is that how we're doing this? "have you eaten yet". derek can't decide if this counts as assertive or not, so he's not sure if he should make a big deal of this. should he give stiles shit for not just - saying hey, can we go grab something to eat? should he be happy that stiles isn't just letting himself go hungry? derek makes a noise. hard to say if it's a thoughtful hum or a displeased grunt. somewhere in the middle, maybe. ]
I... could eat.
[ his voice is stiff and even, like he's trying very, very hard to pick his words carefully. his tone is... neutral, and slow, and when derek brings his hand up to his mouth to scratch at his stubble and think his next move through, it doesn't deviate from that. ]
If you could eat.
[ it's not like he wants to pressure stiles to just-- outwardly and explicitly say "i'm starving let me fucking eat you stupid dog", but he wants stiles to at least realize that that's an option. ]
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if anyone should leave first, it's probably stiles. he's gotten into far less trouble since they were dumped out of the transport vans and into the fort. it's not that he's been complying, but the guards seem far less concerned about a handful of submissives refusing to eat than they do about those who resist and retaliate via more... physical methods. if there are guards around outside, stiles is far less likely to strike a chord as negative as derek probably would, and this way, stiles could at least give derek a little warning.
stiles' hand never makes contact though, because derek stops and then he's stepping back into stiles' space. his hand just hovers there for a moment, still outstretched in the direction derek just moved from. derek is... really close, and though they're practically the same height, derek's close enough that those two inches make a different and stiles actually has to look up at him. the tiny sound he makes is hard to decipher. stiles gets the vague feeling he may have messed up somewhere between telling derek to chill with the self-love and asking if he's hungry.
he's not stupid. he knows that phrasing his wants as a question is skirting around the very thing they just talked about - stiles telling derek, stiles not fucking around when he wants or needs something, but it's not as easy as just flipping a switch. maybe it should be, but it's not. stiles' gaze shift slightly, following the movement of derek's hand as he brings it up to his face, nails scraping quietly through his stubble.
okay. okay, this is only going to work if they're straight forward, and stiles is. hungry. he's really fucking hungry because the only thing he ate yesterday was a handful of grapes and some squished bread and if he doesn't tell derek he's not up for skipping breakfast this time, then he's not going to eat. which ssssucks, but.
stiles breathes in through his nose, slow and deep. he sighs, lowers his gaze just slightly so he's looking more at derek's collar bones than anything else. he nods, absently lifting one hand to drag blunt fingernails through his hair, down the back of his skull. ]
Yeah. Yeah, I could— I'm... starving.
[ there it is. stiles let's that sit there between them for a beat, and then decides that he doesn't really want to just stand there anymore so he glances up briefly, offers a tight, tense little smile, then steps away from derek and toward the door leading out of their little safe space. very carefully, he eases the door open, and that's all he does at first. he stops and he listens. waits. eases the door open a little bit more, far enough so that he can peek his head out.
they're in the clear, and stiles breathes out quietly before stepping out, keeping one hand on the door as he turns to usher derek out with a wave of his other hand. ]
C'mon, we're good.