[ Tate gets angrier, and Derek just feels the same resentment and disgust towards him that he felt towards Scott whenever he went on and on about being in love with Allison. Tate's seventeen. A child. He's walking headfirst into a dangerous situation and doesn't seem to notice. Certainly doesn't care. It's driving Derek insane.
If it wasn't the full moon, and if they weren't talking about the bite, and if Tate had just let him leave when he could feel the anger coming up, maybe he wouldn't be like this, but Derek doesn't have it in him to be patient and caring. He's a wolf. He's in charge. Tate's out of line. Tate's fucking up, not him.
He steps forward, and he shoves Tate, one hard push to the center of his chest with a splayed out hand. He pushes him again, back into his seat, and he leans over him, getting close. He bares his teeth, talking through them, low and livid. Derek could change his eyes, help Tate see his anchor, that purifying, solid red, but he won't. Because they're not pack. ]
No.
[ Derek doesn't believe him. Doesn't believe that Tate knows what he wants, beyond quick fixes and cheap highs. Can't want the bite. Derek's sure of that. This isn't real. Can't be. ]
I'm not going to share you with whatever asshole is out there helping you self-destruct. You're either mine, or you're his. Can't be both.
[Tate slumps down quick and fast, pushed into his seat like a child and giving the upward look as if scolded like one, too. He wants to push against Derek's hand and he does ever so slightly, staring up into his face with wet eyes and a quivering lip. Derek's not listening to him, he doesn't want to - Tate's somehow fucked this all over by sharing something he thought he had to. This is why it's always better to keep things to yourself. It just reaffirms it to Tate, never to share - never to tell. Not anymore. Not again. Not ever.
He stares into his eyes and he can't find what he's looking for - the sense of comfort and belonging, the care behind what he sees as anger and hate. He sees rejection and a cold heart, and he struggles to think of something to say. Some way to fix this. A way to be shared, even if Derek doesn't want him to be. He can't quit the contract, but Derek won't bite him this way. He doesn't even want to be bitten, or at least isn't sure, but he'd offer it up in a heartbeat if it meant mending this mistake.
Kavinsky won't take to sharing him, either. He knows this too. He just wanted to make a point of avoiding it until it was completely unavoidable. Guess this is that moment. Tate's lips part to speak a few times, but nothing comes out. He just - cries, because that's all he knows how to do. He cries, hunching forward to wipe at his eyes with his sleeves pulled down and his breath so desperately shallow and wet. It's pathetic, yet he can't stop.]
I'm sorry. I want- want... I want.
[He can't breathe. His hands shake, gripping the table.]
[ Derek doesn't feel... softened, by the way Tate cries. He feels sad, and that's new, but he feels disconnected from himself, like he's watching everything happen through somebody else's eyes. He's losing control of himself, he thinks, distantly, feeling waves of bloodlust and heat and pain and primal, animalistic rage crashing through his body. Tate is shaking and scared and Derek doesn't feel guilt, not yet, but he will, once everything dies down. ]
I don't want you seeing him anymore. Ever again. You're going to stay with me. I want you to move in with me and Stiles.
[ Derek stares at Tate, waiting for him to-- to nod, or something, but before he gets the chance to do anything, Derek sees that for the impossibility it is. People fucking-- died, at Fort Harmony. Derek can't hide a stray sub in his house and force him to disobey his contract. He'll get punished, without a doubt, and even though Derek thinks he could singlehandedly protect him from Duplicity's law enforcement, he knows that's just the full moon talking. He was beaten and battered and depowered, at the Fort. They could do that to him again.
So-- so. Plan B. Derek sets his hands on Tate's shoulders, squeezing tight, silently willing him to stop shaking, and he sets his knee on the edge of Tate's seat, moving in even closer to hold eye contact. He just wants to help him. All Derek's ever wanted was to help him. ]
Forget-- forget that. I'll stay in the hotel for the rest of the week. We'll share a room, and you'll stay with me, right until we have to leave.
[ He'll-- fuck, he's still angry, but at the core of things, Derek will do anything to keep Tate safe. Anything to keep him away from his dom, at least until Derek can talk to Stiles and ask if there's ever been a way to null someone's contract. Maybe Kavinsky's a good guy, maybe he's better for Tate than Derek thinks - but Derek's spent too many years assuming the worst of people to break that streak now, and Tate isn't smart enough or self-reliant enough to be that close to a supply of drugs and not completely fuck himself up. ]
[Tate's heart nearly fucking stops for a second, unable to compute Derek's initial command with a look of frozen shock and confusion. He's being forbidden from seeing someone and although that comes with the promise of - Derek accepting him again, it's like a twist of a knife inside his chest simultaneously. A crushing vice that stops him from breathing altogether.
Ben told him to stop seeing Violet, and that went well.
He wouldn't have been able to agree to it, even if he wanted to. His contract with Kavinsky can't be changed, and it lasts for three months. It was only just signed. He doesn't want to move away, to hide in the attic like Anne Frank and lose out on what he was building with Kavinsky. He was hoping to explain to Derek that Kavinsky could be a good source of aid for their efforts - but he's too angry. It won't work. He needs - time. Time to figure it out.
But he reels it back and Tate can breath a little bit easier, but it's still heavily problematic. He still can't say no, of course, so his expression is a bit blank for a beat or three of his heart. The tears seem to freeze on his face and he looks up at Derek uncertain, before wiping at his eyes again.]
Okay. Okay? Okay, we ca-can... we can do that.
[He still can't breathe, struggling to swallow his next wet inhale - pale, uncertain and trying to think six steps ahead and failing. Kavinsky probably won't mind if he goes off the record for a little while - they agreed that was alright. But his words ring in Tate's head.
'Don't fucking forget it. Whatever the fuck you do here, you leave with me.']
I'm - I'm sorry, I.
[He should be able to stop the shuddering, ugly crying by now but it washes through him in leaky aftershocks. His face is red and his sleeves damp for wiping it all away. He looks up again into Derek's eyes, trying not to be fearful of what he might see staring back at him. Fearful of these feelings he can't show right now in response to - being forbidden something. Under all the shaking, crying and upset he's. Unsettled. And a little angry. But it's buried down deep and dull, to be unpacked later.]
[ All that anger in Derek is - unchained, now that it's not his anchor. He hasn't been this angry since before his anchor shifted, and going through all those old tricks to keep it steady and honed and focused just makes him small and immature and stupid. Young.
Tate looks so small.
Derek can't say it's just the full moon, even though it is, because that's the kind of abusive, manipulative shit Peter would have said, if he'd ever had the chance. He can't say I didn't mean any of it, I don't want to own you, I don't want you to be "mine", because now he's elevated his neediness and his fear of not having any betas into something horrible and toxic, and pulling out the blade he's put in this relationship is just going to seem like a rejection. He can't say he's not angry at Tate, either, because - because he is.
He still feels used. This was a desperate scramble to try and fix that, to try and keep something with Tate that he obviously never really had. Tate doesn't care about him. Tate doesn't care about the bite. Tate just - hates being rejected. Hated being rejected at the fort, hated being second to Stiles. He was just trying to get in good with Derek so he had a safety net between-- between the drugs, between Violet, between everything else.
This is one sided. Derek's - fine with that, if he has to be. He's not so invested in Tate's loyalty as to lose his mind if he doesn't have it. Maybe Tate was only ever a replacement for Erica and Boyd and Isaac, anyway. Maybe they were never meant to be close. Maybe he just needs to take a step back from this relationship altogether, maybe they don't need to be friends, maybe Tate's pain isn't his problem, maybe he should just smooth things over and completely remove himself from Tate's life. Maybe he just--
Fuck, he doesn't know what he needs to do. He just needs to stop Tate from hyperventilating. ]
Okay.
[ He tries to make his voice softer, but - he's Derek. ]
Okay, just - look at me.
[ There aren't any people around, really - Derek wouldn't have been talking about the bite so openly if there were - but he looks over his shoulders and doublechecks, just to be sure. He gets on his knees when he's sure the coast is clear, looks up at Tate, and steadily glows his eyes red. He tries to silently urge him to think of-- of blood, of the things that hurt, the things he shouldn't need as an escape. He doesn't know if Tate trusts him enough to make it work, but -
But the guilt is starting to set in. ]
I've got you. Okay? I'm sorry. Forget the hotel, forget - all of it. I'm not going to keep you prisoner or tell you who you can or can't see. I'm just scared.
[And like a slowly deflated balloon, the order between them is settling. Derek's not walking away, he hasn't left Tate to sit coldly in his own tears and he's actually trying to comfort him. Tate's heart aches because it's what he wanted, the relief is palpable, it leaks out of every pore on his face and the next wash of tears from his eyes aren't fearful and upset - they're softer, just reflexive, and he manages to stop them all together with a hard blink and a sniff.
Derek's kneeling and while Tate's head is still reeling with a brew of conflicting feelings, thoughts of what he needs to do or who now he needs to talk to - it swims and swims and fades away when the red hits him. Another wave of relief is so visible on Tate's face when he sees the red of Derek's eyes, his own wide and his heart slows. He stares, transfixed and out of focus before blinking back into the moment.
He can breathe again, albeit still a bit shaky. He leans forward, tempting things to go awry but feeling so compelled to just lean his forehead to Derek's. He doesn't know what he means by it but he's suddenly tired, worn out. His emotions have ravaged him and he needs to recharge. He's not sure he's allowed to do this. He's not a beta, after all. Not pack.]
I'd do whatever you want, for you. You're important to me.
[ Even though he's cooling down, Derek's tone is still sharp. He's still pretty god damn certain that he's not important to Tate at all, actually - but that's not what he's saying. He doesn't want Tate to think he needs to do whatever Derek wants to keep him in his good graces. All that anger's still making him sick, directionless and all-consuming as it is, but fuck, he really doesn't want Tate to feel like there has to be something transactional to keep him around.
Tate's just the kid with fucked up issues who doesn't have anyone else to rely on. Derek felt sorry for him, got attached, and that was his own fault. He just needs to pull back. They're not friends, they're not pack, and that's - fine, because again, Derek's the idiot who made that mistake, and it's good to get out now, before things get real. The shame of his own reaction, Tate's willingness to say things to get under his skin and get what he wants, Tate's apparent decision to stick to self-destruction - it's just way too much of a hurdle for Derek to jump over. He just...
He'll be here for him. That's it. He won't get attached again. Can't.
Derek waits for Tate to calm down a little, then slowly bleeds his eyes back to hazel. He doesn't pull away from Tate's touch, mostly because he doesn't feel like he can, but there's an acidic pit in his stomach and a resolution that needs to be addressed. Somehow. ]
Look - forget about the bite. I'll find another beta. We can still train, I'll still help you with your anger, and I'll help you with this idea if you get it off the ground - but that's all we need to be. Okay?
[ Shouldn't have been pushing Tate for more. Shouldn't have been pressuring him into trying to make him happy. ]
[Tate calms but he's still raw on the insides, eyes still burning from spent tears. He looks into Derek's eyes from too close, finding it hard to focus. Hard to listen. Hard to do anything with the ringing in his head. He closes his eyes and takes a breath before leaning back, feeling embarrassed for the state of himself now that things are "better". He misses touch, something warm and comforting, and it's all he can think about right now. How much he wants to be touched.
Not replaced. The last thing he wants is to be replaced.
His eyes glaze again with wetness, and even though he's being offered a compromise it hurts to even adjust to it. He wants to protest, to protect this little shred of promise and make it wider. But maybe he needs to rein it in and maybe he needs to take what he can get and build his way back up. Show Derek he means it about the bite, that he's the only beta he needs. Derek told him he needed him, before. How can that stop?]
Okay.
[He's still not sure where they stand - where they're meant to go from here but at least it's not destroyed with finality. He tries to keep breathing deeply, tries to keep an even expression. Faltering, somewhat, but succeeding in smaller amounts. This still stings like a bit of rejection, like he's a let down, but he can build back up from that. He can fix this.]
[ Tate acquiesces, and Derek didn't really expect this to end so smoothly, so there's a low simmering relief that sits in his chest and mellows things out a little. He doesn't feel any better, but he doesn't feel any worse, either. He really needs to talk to Stiles about all of this; he needs fresh eyes on his reaction, he needs to know how badly he's in the wrong. Derek slowly peels back from Tate, sitting back on his thighs, and he drags his palm down his chin, visibly tired.
He's still so, so angry. It's calm and it's quiet but it's there, and when he looks at Tate, there's just this frustrated, violent impulse that beats through him. He wants to ask what the fuck is wrong with this kid, he wants to know what could possibly be going through his head to justify throwing himself into an environment that's only going to worsen the problems Derek's supposed to be fixing. He hates this kind of anger. Sticks to his ribs like tar, makes him feel like throwing up.
Tate asks about the beach and Derek clenches his jaw. Tate still feels small and helpless and pitiful and Derek feels like an asshole more and more for putting him in that position, but this just feels - manipulative, again. Selfish. Derek can't disguise his hesitation, or the slow reluctance in his voice, when he answers. ]
Just you. That's still the rule. Once you break it, you can't come back.
[The relief still feels stagnant in his chest, like he expected it to get better. To expand and take over the cold shards of ice that are still inside him. But it doesn't, it stays the same, and it's probably for the better. He just nods his head, hanging it low and tugs his sleeves down over his hands. He wanted to talk about so many other things that they can't now, because anything could be a mine. He'll have to talk to Stiles, maybe. He wonders if he could ask him his opinion on this - situation, too.
They'll surely talk. Will he talk about Tate? Stiles is already someone who feels like... he's smarter than Tate in a few very important ways. And that he can't be fooled or won over like most people. If he loses his trust, he loses it. And Derek's too, by proxy. He needs Stiles. Needs him if he wants to keep Derek.]
I want - you to be able to trust me. That's all I want. Is your...
[This part wasn't planned. He stammers, surprising himself.]
[ Tate... stammers, and there are some very real feelings behind what he says, but Derek doesn't know how to react. There's a second, just briefly, where Derek looks at him with completely unguarded emotion. He's sad, he's lost, and maybe he's even a little bit helpless. He had all these hopes for Tate, for what they could be for each other. He had the early sparks of genuine, honest love for him, and now it feels damaged and fractured and weak. He feels like he doesn't know who Tate is, anymore. Feels like losing family, or at least the potential for it. He should be used to that by now.
But Tate signed a contract with his drug dealer, and Tate put himself under the control of someone who either didn't care that he was dying or else actively helped it happen, and Derek doesn't say you're going to have to work hard to get my approval after this bullshit, but he does slowly shake his head, looking off to the side. That alone makes it clear. ]
Look - I'm burned out. We can talk more about your rebellion idea another time, if you still want to. I need...
[ Stiles. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumbnail, shaking his head again, looking down and away. ]
[Tate didn't get to cover what he wanted to cover and Derek wants to go again. This time he can't hold him back, can't make him stay, he just has to unclench his hand from its tight grip against his jeans and nod. He needs to let him go because that way, he might come back. If you try to take away the autonomy, it doesn't work. He knows this. But it's still a fierce fucking impulse.]
Okay. Can we... talk later?
[Too soon? His gaze skirts away, but returns in a slow circle.]
[ Derek quickly shakes his head, and he realizes that looks like a solid, point-blank rejection, but that's not what he means. Just - next week is far, and as angry as Derek might be right now, he's not going to let someone as self-destructive and prone to anxiety as Tate dwell over this and worry about what their relationship is going to be like for an entire fucking week. ]
Tomorrow. If you want.
[ Derek starts getting to his feet, and his hands are trembling a little, so he balls them into fists and pulls down the sleeves of his jacket, covering his wrists and his hands up to his knuckles. This was a lot of emotion for one fucking day. ]
Just - not tonight. Tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. It's the full moon. I need...
[ To fuck Stiles within an inch of his life to try and work out his energy and calm the fuck down, honestly. To collapse in the woods and howl at the moon, or some shit. ]
[Tate watches every little response, ready to read into it as rejection so predictably that he looks so damn relieved when Derek reassures him the day after is fine. He needs time away from Tate but he leaves the door open and Tate nods, looking almost too satisfied with that. Like in the snap of Derek's fingers, Tate's happy again beneath the mask of tears and blotchy faced sadness.]
Okay. I'll... I'll talk to you later then.
[Derek brings up the full moon and rather than leave it just at that, Tate looks back up at him with a softer look. He doesn't know what it means other than the few things he's gathered, but he can extrapolate from there. This was supposed to be the day he decided whether or not to be bit. It's a big day. Important. Dangerous?]
[ Would it be petty, Derek wonders, if he said you too. If he responded to Tate's genuine display of concern with something sarcastic and biting about how Tate needs to stay safe, too, under this stupid fucking idiotic decision he's living his life by. For a second, he looks at Tate like he... genuinely wants to say something. Genuinely wants to take a shot.
Ultimately, he says nothing. He just - needs time away. Needs to burn himself out, through running and anger and physicality instead of-- fucking-- drugs. He looks at Tate, bites his tongue, and...
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If it wasn't the full moon, and if they weren't talking about the bite, and if Tate had just let him leave when he could feel the anger coming up, maybe he wouldn't be like this, but Derek doesn't have it in him to be patient and caring. He's a wolf. He's in charge. Tate's out of line. Tate's fucking up, not him.
He steps forward, and he shoves Tate, one hard push to the center of his chest with a splayed out hand. He pushes him again, back into his seat, and he leans over him, getting close. He bares his teeth, talking through them, low and livid. Derek could change his eyes, help Tate see his anchor, that purifying, solid red, but he won't. Because they're not pack. ]
No.
[ Derek doesn't believe him. Doesn't believe that Tate knows what he wants, beyond quick fixes and cheap highs. Can't want the bite. Derek's sure of that. This isn't real. Can't be. ]
I'm not going to share you with whatever asshole is out there helping you self-destruct. You're either mine, or you're his. Can't be both.
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He stares into his eyes and he can't find what he's looking for - the sense of comfort and belonging, the care behind what he sees as anger and hate. He sees rejection and a cold heart, and he struggles to think of something to say. Some way to fix this. A way to be shared, even if Derek doesn't want him to be. He can't quit the contract, but Derek won't bite him this way. He doesn't even want to be bitten, or at least isn't sure, but he'd offer it up in a heartbeat if it meant mending this mistake.
Kavinsky won't take to sharing him, either. He knows this too. He just wanted to make a point of avoiding it until it was completely unavoidable. Guess this is that moment. Tate's lips part to speak a few times, but nothing comes out. He just - cries, because that's all he knows how to do. He cries, hunching forward to wipe at his eyes with his sleeves pulled down and his breath so desperately shallow and wet. It's pathetic, yet he can't stop.]
I'm sorry. I want- want... I want.
[He can't breathe. His hands shake, gripping the table.]
I want to be yours. I'm sorry.
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I don't want you seeing him anymore. Ever again. You're going to stay with me. I want you to move in with me and Stiles.
[ Derek stares at Tate, waiting for him to-- to nod, or something, but before he gets the chance to do anything, Derek sees that for the impossibility it is. People fucking-- died, at Fort Harmony. Derek can't hide a stray sub in his house and force him to disobey his contract. He'll get punished, without a doubt, and even though Derek thinks he could singlehandedly protect him from Duplicity's law enforcement, he knows that's just the full moon talking. He was beaten and battered and depowered, at the Fort. They could do that to him again.
So-- so. Plan B. Derek sets his hands on Tate's shoulders, squeezing tight, silently willing him to stop shaking, and he sets his knee on the edge of Tate's seat, moving in even closer to hold eye contact. He just wants to help him. All Derek's ever wanted was to help him. ]
Forget-- forget that. I'll stay in the hotel for the rest of the week. We'll share a room, and you'll stay with me, right until we have to leave.
[ He'll-- fuck, he's still angry, but at the core of things, Derek will do anything to keep Tate safe. Anything to keep him away from his dom, at least until Derek can talk to Stiles and ask if there's ever been a way to null someone's contract. Maybe Kavinsky's a good guy, maybe he's better for Tate than Derek thinks - but Derek's spent too many years assuming the worst of people to break that streak now, and Tate isn't smart enough or self-reliant enough to be that close to a supply of drugs and not completely fuck himself up. ]
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Ben told him to stop seeing Violet, and that went well.
He wouldn't have been able to agree to it, even if he wanted to. His contract with Kavinsky can't be changed, and it lasts for three months. It was only just signed. He doesn't want to move away, to hide in the attic like Anne Frank and lose out on what he was building with Kavinsky. He was hoping to explain to Derek that Kavinsky could be a good source of aid for their efforts - but he's too angry. It won't work. He needs - time. Time to figure it out.
But he reels it back and Tate can breath a little bit easier, but it's still heavily problematic. He still can't say no, of course, so his expression is a bit blank for a beat or three of his heart. The tears seem to freeze on his face and he looks up at Derek uncertain, before wiping at his eyes again.]
Okay. Okay? Okay, we ca-can... we can do that.
[He still can't breathe, struggling to swallow his next wet inhale - pale, uncertain and trying to think six steps ahead and failing. Kavinsky probably won't mind if he goes off the record for a little while - they agreed that was alright. But his words ring in Tate's head.
'Don't fucking forget it. Whatever the fuck you do here, you leave with me.']
I'm - I'm sorry, I.
[He should be able to stop the shuddering, ugly crying by now but it washes through him in leaky aftershocks. His face is red and his sleeves damp for wiping it all away. He looks up again into Derek's eyes, trying not to be fearful of what he might see staring back at him. Fearful of these feelings he can't show right now in response to - being forbidden something. Under all the shaking, crying and upset he's. Unsettled. And a little angry. But it's buried down deep and dull, to be unpacked later.]
I can't breathe.
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Tate looks so small.
Derek can't say it's just the full moon, even though it is, because that's the kind of abusive, manipulative shit Peter would have said, if he'd ever had the chance. He can't say I didn't mean any of it, I don't want to own you, I don't want you to be "mine", because now he's elevated his neediness and his fear of not having any betas into something horrible and toxic, and pulling out the blade he's put in this relationship is just going to seem like a rejection. He can't say he's not angry at Tate, either, because - because he is.
He still feels used. This was a desperate scramble to try and fix that, to try and keep something with Tate that he obviously never really had. Tate doesn't care about him. Tate doesn't care about the bite. Tate just - hates being rejected. Hated being rejected at the fort, hated being second to Stiles. He was just trying to get in good with Derek so he had a safety net between-- between the drugs, between Violet, between everything else.
This is one sided. Derek's - fine with that, if he has to be. He's not so invested in Tate's loyalty as to lose his mind if he doesn't have it. Maybe Tate was only ever a replacement for Erica and Boyd and Isaac, anyway. Maybe they were never meant to be close. Maybe he just needs to take a step back from this relationship altogether, maybe they don't need to be friends, maybe Tate's pain isn't his problem, maybe he should just smooth things over and completely remove himself from Tate's life. Maybe he just--
Fuck, he doesn't know what he needs to do. He just needs to stop Tate from hyperventilating. ]
Okay.
[ He tries to make his voice softer, but - he's Derek. ]
Okay, just - look at me.
[ There aren't any people around, really - Derek wouldn't have been talking about the bite so openly if there were - but he looks over his shoulders and doublechecks, just to be sure. He gets on his knees when he's sure the coast is clear, looks up at Tate, and steadily glows his eyes red. He tries to silently urge him to think of-- of blood, of the things that hurt, the things he shouldn't need as an escape. He doesn't know if Tate trusts him enough to make it work, but -
But the guilt is starting to set in. ]
I've got you. Okay? I'm sorry. Forget the hotel, forget - all of it. I'm not going to keep you prisoner or tell you who you can or can't see. I'm just scared.
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Derek's kneeling and while Tate's head is still reeling with a brew of conflicting feelings, thoughts of what he needs to do or who now he needs to talk to - it swims and swims and fades away when the red hits him. Another wave of relief is so visible on Tate's face when he sees the red of Derek's eyes, his own wide and his heart slows. He stares, transfixed and out of focus before blinking back into the moment.
He can breathe again, albeit still a bit shaky. He leans forward, tempting things to go awry but feeling so compelled to just lean his forehead to Derek's. He doesn't know what he means by it but he's suddenly tired, worn out. His emotions have ravaged him and he needs to recharge. He's not sure he's allowed to do this. He's not a beta, after all. Not pack.]
I'd do whatever you want, for you. You're important to me.
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[ Even though he's cooling down, Derek's tone is still sharp. He's still pretty god damn certain that he's not important to Tate at all, actually - but that's not what he's saying. He doesn't want Tate to think he needs to do whatever Derek wants to keep him in his good graces. All that anger's still making him sick, directionless and all-consuming as it is, but fuck, he really doesn't want Tate to feel like there has to be something transactional to keep him around.
Tate's just the kid with fucked up issues who doesn't have anyone else to rely on. Derek felt sorry for him, got attached, and that was his own fault. He just needs to pull back. They're not friends, they're not pack, and that's - fine, because again, Derek's the idiot who made that mistake, and it's good to get out now, before things get real. The shame of his own reaction, Tate's willingness to say things to get under his skin and get what he wants, Tate's apparent decision to stick to self-destruction - it's just way too much of a hurdle for Derek to jump over. He just...
He'll be here for him. That's it. He won't get attached again. Can't.
Derek waits for Tate to calm down a little, then slowly bleeds his eyes back to hazel. He doesn't pull away from Tate's touch, mostly because he doesn't feel like he can, but there's an acidic pit in his stomach and a resolution that needs to be addressed. Somehow. ]
Look - forget about the bite. I'll find another beta. We can still train, I'll still help you with your anger, and I'll help you with this idea if you get it off the ground - but that's all we need to be. Okay?
[ Shouldn't have been pushing Tate for more. Shouldn't have been pressuring him into trying to make him happy. ]
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Not replaced. The last thing he wants is to be replaced.
His eyes glaze again with wetness, and even though he's being offered a compromise it hurts to even adjust to it. He wants to protest, to protect this little shred of promise and make it wider. But maybe he needs to rein it in and maybe he needs to take what he can get and build his way back up. Show Derek he means it about the bite, that he's the only beta he needs. Derek told him he needed him, before. How can that stop?]
Okay.
[He's still not sure where they stand - where they're meant to go from here but at least it's not destroyed with finality. He tries to keep breathing deeply, tries to keep an even expression. Faltering, somewhat, but succeeding in smaller amounts. This still stings like a bit of rejection, like he's a let down, but he can build back up from that. He can fix this.]
I can still come to the beach?
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He's still so, so angry. It's calm and it's quiet but it's there, and when he looks at Tate, there's just this frustrated, violent impulse that beats through him. He wants to ask what the fuck is wrong with this kid, he wants to know what could possibly be going through his head to justify throwing himself into an environment that's only going to worsen the problems Derek's supposed to be fixing. He hates this kind of anger. Sticks to his ribs like tar, makes him feel like throwing up.
Tate asks about the beach and Derek clenches his jaw. Tate still feels small and helpless and pitiful and Derek feels like an asshole more and more for putting him in that position, but this just feels - manipulative, again. Selfish. Derek can't disguise his hesitation, or the slow reluctance in his voice, when he answers. ]
Just you. That's still the rule. Once you break it, you can't come back.
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[The relief still feels stagnant in his chest, like he expected it to get better. To expand and take over the cold shards of ice that are still inside him. But it doesn't, it stays the same, and it's probably for the better. He just nods his head, hanging it low and tugs his sleeves down over his hands. He wanted to talk about so many other things that they can't now, because anything could be a mine. He'll have to talk to Stiles, maybe. He wonders if he could ask him his opinion on this - situation, too.
They'll surely talk. Will he talk about Tate? Stiles is already someone who feels like... he's smarter than Tate in a few very important ways. And that he can't be fooled or won over like most people. If he loses his trust, he loses it. And Derek's too, by proxy. He needs Stiles. Needs him if he wants to keep Derek.]
I want - you to be able to trust me. That's all I want. Is your...
[This part wasn't planned. He stammers, surprising himself.]
Your approval.
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But Tate signed a contract with his drug dealer, and Tate put himself under the control of someone who either didn't care that he was dying or else actively helped it happen, and Derek doesn't say you're going to have to work hard to get my approval after this bullshit, but he does slowly shake his head, looking off to the side. That alone makes it clear. ]
Look - I'm burned out. We can talk more about your rebellion idea another time, if you still want to. I need...
[ Stiles. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumbnail, shaking his head again, looking down and away. ]
I need to go.
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Okay. Can we... talk later?
[Too soon? His gaze skirts away, but returns in a slow circle.]
Next week, even? Just to talk. Or hang out.
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Tomorrow. If you want.
[ Derek starts getting to his feet, and his hands are trembling a little, so he balls them into fists and pulls down the sleeves of his jacket, covering his wrists and his hands up to his knuckles. This was a lot of emotion for one fucking day. ]
Just - not tonight. Tomorrow afternoon, at the earliest. It's the full moon. I need...
[ To fuck Stiles within an inch of his life to try and work out his energy and calm the fuck down, honestly. To collapse in the woods and howl at the moon, or some shit. ]
I just need a day.
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Okay. I'll... I'll talk to you later then.
[Derek brings up the full moon and rather than leave it just at that, Tate looks back up at him with a softer look. He doesn't know what it means other than the few things he's gathered, but he can extrapolate from there. This was supposed to be the day he decided whether or not to be bit. It's a big day. Important. Dangerous?]
Be... be safe, okay?
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Ultimately, he says nothing. He just - needs time away. Needs to burn himself out, through running and anger and physicality instead of-- fucking-- drugs. He looks at Tate, bites his tongue, and...
Then he's gone. ]