[ Derek smiles, wry and lightly sarcastic. For a second, he's fine with just sitting here, but he pulls his hands back eventually, taking a long, steadying breath. Keep building a pack, keep making amends, focus on how good things are going to be come July. That's all he's gotta do. Things are gonna be okay. ]
Don't let me be wrong about you.
[ He's quiet, when he says this, maybe a little cautious, but - certainly not unkind. There's no way he's wrong about Tate.
There are other things he wanted to cover, but he's burning himself out on shovelling all this serious shit down Tate's throat, and the thought of diving too deep into the rest of his family is - rough. Derek kicks his heel in the dirt, looks at Tate, then to the woods around them, going out of his way to adopt a lighter posture, a more casual tone of voice. It's forced, but. Light and casual is always forced, with Derek. ]
Pick a spot. [ He gestures, vaguely, at the woods around them. ] If we're gonna build you a treehouse, may as well start planning.
How... good of a tree house are we talking? First off, quality assurance is required.
[He laughs, trying to go with the lighter tone of the conversation. He rests his own hands in his lap once Derek takes his away, and flexes his fingers lightly as if in a nervous twitch. He breathes in deep and looks around, surveying the trees for once that look solid enough - trying to decide what he really wants. It's easier to think about this than anything else, like letting down Derek or realizing how deep he's dug the hole for himself now.]
I'd like it if it kinda lead off a hill, for easier access. You know, with supports or something? I don't know. I'll have to look into it, unless you've got ideas. A vision.
[He's quiet for another moment.]
I like it out here. I wanna spend time here, so. We better get to work on it fast.
[ Derek's not going to brag about how good he is at carpentry, so, he just shrugs. He's, uh. He's only sort of a basic bitch when it comes to carpentry, but he learned some basics from his dad, and there were some publicly accessible plans of the city that he went through after learning just how involved the Hale family was in establishing beacon hills, so. He could probably... build a tree house. In theory.
Probably. ]
I want it to be practical. Defensible. You need to be able to get out fast, if another 5 AM kidnapping happens when you're staying the night.
[ Uh - not that Tate has to spend the night in this thing, but, you know. If he wanted to, having a way out seems smart. High ground sounds good, too, but that was kinda, you know. Expected. Tree house. Derek twists his mouth a little, thinking. ]
But - also - cool? I want... to build you something... cool.
[Tate tries to hide his smile by rubbing his hand over his face, but it shows through in his eyes nonetheless. So he drops his hand back down, nodding his head. Derek's got a good point about escapes and safety and all that, but when it really comes down to it? Aside from being a safe haven and somewhere to linger, clear his head and daydream? Fuck yeah, it better be cool.]
I want it to be cool, too. But you know, also not wanna fall through a shitty floorboard so. We'll have to make sure it's all of those things. I don't really have money, or much to contribute - but I want to. Don't - Don't tell me you're doing this for me and say that's it. I wanna pay you back, like...
[Tate loaf hands. It's infectious.]
I can do odd jobs or something, for you? Clean up the beach, not that anyone ever goes on it. I don't really know how to do laundry, but I used to help the maid take it off the line when I was little?
[ Oh, those are loaf hands. Derek snorts, a little undignified, shaking his head. Been spending too much time with Stiles. It's enough of a distraction to stop him from immediately jumping down Tate's throat and telling him to shut the fuck up, because he doesn't need to do anything. That being saaaaaaaid... ]
I'm not doing this for you. I mean, I am, but - having you out here means I get to see you more, so. This is an entirely selfish endeavour.
[ But - letting Tate do things will get him over more often, too, so. He's not saying no. ]
If helping out will make you feel better, though - fine, I guess? I don't care what you do. Laundry, cooking, cleaning. Being on call for 24/7 blowjobs. Pick something.
We already know laundry isn't my strong point. Cooking either - so I guess I'm scrubbing floors and staying on my knees. What a hard knock life.
[They talk about blowjobs far too much for it to be even a joke anymore, but Tate will never let it die. Joking like this makes things feel still stupid and airy, opposed to serious and drawn out. Goes beyond ever thinking Derek was hot now to just - sort of being like a second greeting. Tate gives Derek's shoulder another little shove, and snickers.]
I'm actually shit at cleaning, too. We had a maid, like I said. The only thing I'm not bad at there actually is the blowjobs. Guess that decides it for me.
[ Derek rocks back when Tate shoves him, putting his other foot in the ground to tip from falling over. Kid's come a long way since he was screaming in his face during orientation, afraid of being touched by another guy, needing to be hurt just to get through it. There's a second of kind of - uncomfortable nausea in his stomach that he can't really put a finger on, and he chalks it up to how fucked up it is that Tate have to die and be brought to a city as screwed up as this one before he became decently comfortable in his sexuality.
[That makes Tate laugh loudly, hand slapping lightly against his knee before he gets to his feet to follow suit with whatever Derek's doing. He walks a few feet over to touch his fingers to the bark of a tree, tracing his finger down it - curious, maybe, to feel what it feels like after almost twenty years inside a house. He hasn't been around many wooded areas since then, but that's changing. It all is.
He turns around and rests his back against the tree, arms tucked across his chest. He looks at Derek for a long moment, before glancing upward again. He can see a little sliver of sky here and there, through the tops of the trees. He can even smell the outdoors, and it feels like the first time he's had a moment to really... absorb it all.]
I'm sure there's a plentiful supply of hardwood in the city. Maybe even some soft.
[ It's nice, seeing Tate so happy. This kind of relaxed, easy joy is exactly the kind of feeling Derek wants to bring him, and that smile, that laugh, it's all contagious. When Tate looks at him, Derek looks back, and there's - something there. A sense of purpose, maybe, or - something close to it. There's so much pure, hopeful affection in the way Derek looks at him, and for a second, Derek wonders if-- if that kind of affection, that kind of open, emotional connection, is what he should have given his pack back home. If that's the difference, between them and Tate.
Maybe it's not that. Maybe it's something else. Derek drops his voice low, like he doesn't want Tate to hear him talk, but - not low enough for Tate to miss what he says. ]
You're gonna get me in trouble, one of these days.
[ And then, suddenly, Derek's eyes snap up. He tilts his head, looks up the tree that Tate's standing under, and - hm. Hmm. ]
[Tate hesitates a second before pushing off of the tree trunk, looking upward and turning around to face it. Pretty tall, but looks relatively sturdy - he flexes his fingers and raises his brows. He won't really know until he tries, but he's got a vague sense of confidence that he might at least make it some of the way up. Only, of course, first:]
[ A vague sense of confidence describes Tate's typical state of mind pretty fucking well, if Derek's being honest. Derek's kind of a shithead, because even though he was the one came up with the idea of climbing that tree in the first place, he's rolling his eyes and acting put out when Tate needs help.
But, whatever. Fine. He walks over, shoves Tate on the shoulderblade, setting his hands on his waist. There's no real warning, he just - picks him the fuck up and lifts him high and fast, like he barely weighs a thing, putting him in reach of that first branch. ]
[Tate flails somewhat when lifted like a child, reaching to grab the branch and kick his leg out against the tree trunk to help scramble upward. It doesn't work at first because he has no momentum, so his fingers start to slide and he'll fall back to the ground if Derek happens to let go of him. If he doesn't, Tate will just smack at his hands until he does.]
This isn't a boost, dipshit. I'm not a fucking kid, I meant - like. A step up?
[ Derek likes to think he has a decent tolerance for stupid bullshit, so for a good two, maybe three seconds, he takes those flailing hand-slaps like a champ. The thing is, Derek likes to think a lot of things about himself that aren't true. He flares up with a grumpy impatience and drops Tate back onto the ground, looking mildly like a dog that just got its food bowl overturned.
This was a stupid idea and he already hates it. ]
Jesus. Fine. Come on.
[ But. Fuck. Whatever. He moves in front of Tate and takes a knee, lacing his fingers and holding his hand out for Tate to climb into. ]
Could've just fucking grabbed the branch. You were right there.
Sorry, do I look like some hulked up whippet like you?
[Tate rolls his eyes hard before purposely stepping onto Derek's laced fingers a little harder than he needed to, using the momentum of that and any resulting lift to heft himself upward. This time he grabs the branch and doesn't let go, pulling himself up with a small amount of struggle but this time his sneaker catches the bark and helps him climb the rest of the way up. He sits on the branch for a second, staring down, maybe a little relieved to have made it.
And then he's excited, looking upward again and getting back on his feet to start climbing upward. But like a cat, the higher he starts to go the less he thinks about getting back down - and the troubles that might give him in the long run. No, fuck that, he's - grinning and trying his weight on another branch, hugging the main tree as he steps across.]
[ Derek's annoyed. Derek's obviously annoyed. Tate puts his weight on Derek's fingers long enough for him to realize that he's doing it on purpose, and Derek takes a long, deep breath. He looks at Tate like he's gonna kill him. Looks at him like he's gonna stop boosting him and let him fall on his ass, at least.
That doesn't happen. Tate gets a leg up and starts climbing, and Derek stretches up straight, rubbing his shoulder. ]
You look like - [ No, hold on, he's not done. Derek cuts himself off, hitting Tate with that look again, still annoyed from, like, eight feet below him. "C'mon, boy". Go fuck yourself. ]
You look like you've never climbed a tree before. That's what you look like.
[ Still, he follows orders, steadily and mostly silently digging his shoes into the bark and scaling those first few branches. A part of him gets kind of competitive and wants to overtake Tate as he goes, but once they're mostly level and have room to climb at their own pace, that part of him dies away. He climbs and he climbs until he finds a thick enough branch to support his weight, walking out onto it and gingerly sitting down. His stomach does a little flip when he looks to the ground, which seems to be a pretty long drop, at this point, but he's never been that scared of heights. Just fire. ]
[But Tate just wants to climb higher and higher, only pausing in this endeavor when he sees Derek's come to a stop. It's evident he wants to go higher still, maybe as high as he can, but his fingers hurt a bit and it's true - he's not used to this. Said it himself. The worst thing he can do is over exert himself and fall from the damn thing, only to test his nine lives policy on earthen ground.
So he goes back down a branch or two, tentatively sitting on the same branch as Derek but opting to straddle it - facing him. He'll edge his way out a bit, sneakers kicking in the open air. He looks down to one side, fingers splayed against the girth of the branch, and he doesn't feel that big of a drop in his stomach. But his eyes widen nonetheless.]
I'm good. How fucked up do you think we'd get if we fell?
[ Derek watches Tate climb a little higher, and he's - concerned. He's wearing his emotions for Tate on his sleeve a little too often, lately. He knows the dangers of worrying about Tate, he knows that crowding him and suffocating him over every little thing will just - lead to another fight, eventually - but.
He can't help it. Tate means a lot to him. Tate stops climbing and Derek's visibly relieved, his shoulders sloping as his lungs start working again. Tate straddles the branch he's on and Derek's - smiling, again. All traces of being annoyed just - gone. ]
I've survived worse.
[ But it would still fuck him up pretty bad. Derek inches a little closer to Tate, vaguely protective. He wants to be close enough to grab him, if he falls. ]
[Which - you know, is important to mention after having previously admitted to Derek he had committed suicide in the past. He doesn't linger on that, refusing to let it puncture the moment, and raises his brows at Derek. He contemplates whether or not to pretend to slip but - well, you don't want to do that to the guy with claws. He can guess that much.]
Now we're in the fucking tree. Is this where we hold hands again? Go three for three?
[ Derek shrugs, apparently not listening. He's looking out ahead of him now, listening for something, and he seems to find it. He holds out an arm, pointing back in the direction they first walked in from. ]
The woods open out onto the beach... there.
[ He looks at Tate, dropping his hand back onto the branch. ]
That's where we'll build your house. Facing the ocean. You'll be able to wake up to the waves, every time you slept over. You'll spend days just - sitting at the window, staring out over the horizon, reading one of the books I owe you. You'd be able to walk to my place in... two, maybe three minutes. And then...
[ Cautiously: ]
And then... come July, we'll be able to stay there together. You, me. Stiles, if you want him. Camped out under the light of the stars, warm and safe. It'll be... nice.
[Tate's so easily swayed; he follows Derek's pointing finger like a child being instructed, as if being told the water's only so far away is something new. He's excited by the notion of living by it, by the beach and in the midst of all this greenery. There's something peaceful and serene about the area, so full of... life. In contrast to the simple feeling of death that haunted the House at all times. Blood, ash, suffering. This is so much lighter and promising.
Only. He looks to Derek quietly.]
Is it really going to work? In July. I mean, I want it to but... how? You and Stiles are important to one another and I know I'm important to you too. But... you promise that I won't be... imposing on anything? Like.
[He scratches at his forearm, light but hard enough to leave a white line underneath his sleeve.]
[ Derek doesn't get defensive, exactly, but he does seem a little more firm. For a second, he's - worried. Stiles isn't cool with it. Of course he isn't cool with it. The last he heard, Derek wanted Tate out of his life for good. He doesn't know a thing about July.
But if he says he hasn't run this past Stiles - that's just going to make Tate put his tail between his legs and run. Derek's not willing to do that. And anyway, why should he? Stiles is-- Stiles will be okay with it. He has to be. Stiles is the one who reminded Derek that Tate's kind of a liability to let loose. Stiles has seen how Tate gets, when he feels scared, or angry, or abandoned, and Stiles is the one who wondered if Tate would do something stupid if Derek fucked with his head too badly. Stiles told Derek not to cut Tate out of his life. Stiles is smart, and Stiles is empathetic, and Stiles has to know that Derek wouldn't be okay with letting Tate stay with fucking Kavinsky.
He'll get it. Of course he'll get it. Stiles is the best. Derek's not worried, even though - well, maybe he should be. He's not going to let himself be worried. That firmness goes, and he just shrugs. Casual, reassuring. He offers a smile, completely calm. He lies, because it doesn't even feel like a lie, it just - feels like a truth that hasn't been told yet. That's what he tells himself. ]
Yeah. You don't have to worry. It's all going to work out. I promise.
[ He nudges Tate's knee with his own, shuffling a little further towards Tate, keeping close. ]
You're an irreplaceable part of my life. Stop... comparing yourself to him.
[Tate pinches his brows and tries to figure out his wording. He wants to buy into Derek's assurances and he does, he really does, but he feels like he needs to elaborate on the complexity of his feelings toward Stiles. Stiles, the guy who Derek loves. He said that, he means it. And Tate really, really admires that. Love, in a place like this?]
I just know how much you care about him. How much he cares about you. Regardless of what I am, what you have is important. And you need to promise me you'll do everything to prioritize that. I know we're gonna be pack, but you should always have him as a priority even still. That's what you do, when you love someone. Love them that way.
[True love.]
I know it'll work out. But I want to make sure it's good for all of us.
[ This feels, on some level, like a test. A way for Tate to see if Derek really is loyal to him, over even someone like Stiles. Derek takes a thoughtful pause. ]
You don't... need to tell me that. Stiles will always have the best of me. He deserves so much more than I can give him.
[ But even if this is a test, Derek isn't going to lie. Not so point blank. Stiles is a big fucking deal. The biggest fucking deal he has. He loves him. He might love Tate too, if not now, then soon, but. It'll be a very different kind of love. ]
I just don't want you to think you won't get the best of me, too.
[Tate doesn't think things are being nailed down the way he wants, and it's frustrating. He wants Derek to value what he has, and yet - maybe it's too true, he wants to be told he's worth just as much. Because even though he can admire true love, he so desperately wants to feel worthy of people that it makes him jealous in the same breath. He kicks his leg a bit, and slowly turns so both hang off one side of the branch. Surprisingly, doesn't risk losing his balance.]
I want to... have someone like that one day. I thought I did, with Violet.
[A touchy subject - darkness encircles him at the thought, but he ebbs it away. Closes his eyes, breathes deep and scratches his nails back and forth on the denim over his knees. He relaxes, without any scratches. Cuts. Nicks. Bites or the color red to guide him here.]
[ Derek values what he has, of course he does - Stiles has rapidly become his be-all and his end-all, his reason for waking up each fucking morning. Stiles is what keeps him going, while at the same time, being what keeps him grounded. Derek just...
He can't say all that. Can't look Tate directly in the eye and say that if the two of them were drowning, Derek might try to save them both, but there's no real decision to be made. He watches Tate, sees the way he unwinds. All on his own. ]
I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.
[ If he didn't have Stiles. If Tate would even want that with him. Maybe Derek wouldn't be enough. Maybe he wouldn't actually want to be enough, like that. He doesn't have feelings for Tate. Doesn't even have the start of them. He's just desperate to give Tate everything he can, and maybe he's saying something stupid and short-sighted and maybe he's only making things worse. Wouldn't be the first time. ]
Do you - I mean - do you have anyone you would want to... start over with? I know you want to be with Violet, but...
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Don't let me be wrong about you.
[ He's quiet, when he says this, maybe a little cautious, but - certainly not unkind. There's no way he's wrong about Tate.
There are other things he wanted to cover, but he's burning himself out on shovelling all this serious shit down Tate's throat, and the thought of diving too deep into the rest of his family is - rough. Derek kicks his heel in the dirt, looks at Tate, then to the woods around them, going out of his way to adopt a lighter posture, a more casual tone of voice. It's forced, but. Light and casual is always forced, with Derek. ]
Pick a spot. [ He gestures, vaguely, at the woods around them. ] If we're gonna build you a treehouse, may as well start planning.
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[He laughs, trying to go with the lighter tone of the conversation. He rests his own hands in his lap once Derek takes his away, and flexes his fingers lightly as if in a nervous twitch. He breathes in deep and looks around, surveying the trees for once that look solid enough - trying to decide what he really wants. It's easier to think about this than anything else, like letting down Derek or realizing how deep he's dug the hole for himself now.]
I'd like it if it kinda lead off a hill, for easier access. You know, with supports or something? I don't know. I'll have to look into it, unless you've got ideas. A vision.
[He's quiet for another moment.]
I like it out here. I wanna spend time here, so. We better get to work on it fast.
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Probably. ]
I want it to be practical. Defensible. You need to be able to get out fast, if another 5 AM kidnapping happens when you're staying the night.
[ Uh - not that Tate has to spend the night in this thing, but, you know. If he wanted to, having a way out seems smart. High ground sounds good, too, but that was kinda, you know. Expected. Tree house. Derek twists his mouth a little, thinking. ]
But - also - cool? I want... to build you something... cool.
[ He, uh. Hopes that doesn't sound too stupid. ]
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I want it to be cool, too. But you know, also not wanna fall through a shitty floorboard so. We'll have to make sure it's all of those things. I don't really have money, or much to contribute - but I want to. Don't - Don't tell me you're doing this for me and say that's it. I wanna pay you back, like...
[Tate loaf hands. It's infectious.]
I can do odd jobs or something, for you? Clean up the beach, not that anyone ever goes on it. I don't really know how to do laundry, but I used to help the maid take it off the line when I was little?
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I'm not doing this for you. I mean, I am, but - having you out here means I get to see you more, so. This is an entirely selfish endeavour.
[ But - letting Tate do things will get him over more often, too, so. He's not saying no. ]
If helping out will make you feel better, though - fine, I guess? I don't care what you do. Laundry, cooking, cleaning. Being on call for 24/7 blowjobs. Pick something.
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[They talk about blowjobs far too much for it to be even a joke anymore, but Tate will never let it die. Joking like this makes things feel still stupid and airy, opposed to serious and drawn out. Goes beyond ever thinking Derek was hot now to just - sort of being like a second greeting. Tate gives Derek's shoulder another little shove, and snickers.]
I'm actually shit at cleaning, too. We had a maid, like I said. The only thing I'm not bad at there actually is the blowjobs. Guess that decides it for me.
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[ Derek rocks back when Tate shoves him, putting his other foot in the ground to tip from falling over. Kid's come a long way since he was screaming in his face during orientation, afraid of being touched by another guy, needing to be hurt just to get through it. There's a second of kind of - uncomfortable nausea in his stomach that he can't really put a finger on, and he chalks it up to how fucked up it is that Tate have to die and be brought to a city as screwed up as this one before he became decently comfortable in his sexuality.
But. Light stuff. Jokes. Derek stands up, changes direction. Keeps everything steady. ]
Tree house. I doubt this city even sells lumber. I'm going to have to buy a fucking truckload of pillories and take them apart, or something.
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He turns around and rests his back against the tree, arms tucked across his chest. He looks at Derek for a long moment, before glancing upward again. He can see a little sliver of sky here and there, through the tops of the trees. He can even smell the outdoors, and it feels like the first time he's had a moment to really... absorb it all.]
I'm sure there's a plentiful supply of hardwood in the city. Maybe even some soft.
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Maybe it's not that. Maybe it's something else. Derek drops his voice low, like he doesn't want Tate to hear him talk, but - not low enough for Tate to miss what he says. ]
You're gonna get me in trouble, one of these days.
[ And then, suddenly, Derek's eyes snap up. He tilts his head, looks up the tree that Tate's standing under, and - hm. Hmm. ]
You think you could climb up there?
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[Tate hesitates a second before pushing off of the tree trunk, looking upward and turning around to face it. Pretty tall, but looks relatively sturdy - he flexes his fingers and raises his brows. He won't really know until he tries, but he's got a vague sense of confidence that he might at least make it some of the way up. Only, of course, first:]
Gimme a boost to the first branch?
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[ A vague sense of confidence describes Tate's typical state of mind pretty fucking well, if Derek's being honest. Derek's kind of a shithead, because even though he was the one came up with the idea of climbing that tree in the first place, he's rolling his eyes and acting put out when Tate needs help.
But, whatever. Fine. He walks over, shoves Tate on the shoulderblade, setting his hands on his waist. There's no real warning, he just - picks him the fuck up and lifts him high and fast, like he barely weighs a thing, putting him in reach of that first branch. ]
Get on, idiot.
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[Tate flails somewhat when lifted like a child, reaching to grab the branch and kick his leg out against the tree trunk to help scramble upward. It doesn't work at first because he has no momentum, so his fingers start to slide and he'll fall back to the ground if Derek happens to let go of him. If he doesn't, Tate will just smack at his hands until he does.]
This isn't a boost, dipshit. I'm not a fucking kid, I meant - like. A step up?
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This was a stupid idea and he already hates it. ]
Jesus. Fine. Come on.
[ But. Fuck. Whatever. He moves in front of Tate and takes a knee, lacing his fingers and holding his hand out for Tate to climb into. ]
Could've just fucking grabbed the branch. You were right there.
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[Tate rolls his eyes hard before purposely stepping onto Derek's laced fingers a little harder than he needed to, using the momentum of that and any resulting lift to heft himself upward. This time he grabs the branch and doesn't let go, pulling himself up with a small amount of struggle but this time his sneaker catches the bark and helps him climb the rest of the way up. He sits on the branch for a second, staring down, maybe a little relieved to have made it.
And then he's excited, looking upward again and getting back on his feet to start climbing upward. But like a cat, the higher he starts to go the less he thinks about getting back down - and the troubles that might give him in the long run. No, fuck that, he's - grinning and trying his weight on another branch, hugging the main tree as he steps across.]
C'mon, boy. Climb the tree too.
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That doesn't happen. Tate gets a leg up and starts climbing, and Derek stretches up straight, rubbing his shoulder. ]
You look like - [ No, hold on, he's not done. Derek cuts himself off, hitting Tate with that look again, still annoyed from, like, eight feet below him. "C'mon, boy". Go fuck yourself. ]
You look like you've never climbed a tree before. That's what you look like.
[ Still, he follows orders, steadily and mostly silently digging his shoes into the bark and scaling those first few branches. A part of him gets kind of competitive and wants to overtake Tate as he goes, but once they're mostly level and have room to climb at their own pace, that part of him dies away. He climbs and he climbs until he finds a thick enough branch to support his weight, walking out onto it and gingerly sitting down. His stomach does a little flip when he looks to the ground, which seems to be a pretty long drop, at this point, but he's never been that scared of heights. Just fire. ]
You doing okay?
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[But Tate just wants to climb higher and higher, only pausing in this endeavor when he sees Derek's come to a stop. It's evident he wants to go higher still, maybe as high as he can, but his fingers hurt a bit and it's true - he's not used to this. Said it himself. The worst thing he can do is over exert himself and fall from the damn thing, only to test his nine lives policy on earthen ground.
So he goes back down a branch or two, tentatively sitting on the same branch as Derek but opting to straddle it - facing him. He'll edge his way out a bit, sneakers kicking in the open air. He looks down to one side, fingers splayed against the girth of the branch, and he doesn't feel that big of a drop in his stomach. But his eyes widen nonetheless.]
I'm good. How fucked up do you think we'd get if we fell?
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He can't help it. Tate means a lot to him. Tate stops climbing and Derek's visibly relieved, his shoulders sloping as his lungs start working again. Tate straddles the branch he's on and Derek's - smiling, again. All traces of being annoyed just - gone. ]
I've survived worse.
[ But it would still fuck him up pretty bad. Derek inches a little closer to Tate, vaguely protective. He wants to be close enough to grab him, if he falls. ]
I've got you, though. Not gonna let you fall.
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[Which - you know, is important to mention after having previously admitted to Derek he had committed suicide in the past. He doesn't linger on that, refusing to let it puncture the moment, and raises his brows at Derek. He contemplates whether or not to pretend to slip but - well, you don't want to do that to the guy with claws. He can guess that much.]
Now we're in the fucking tree. Is this where we hold hands again? Go three for three?
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Mm.
[ Derek shrugs, apparently not listening. He's looking out ahead of him now, listening for something, and he seems to find it. He holds out an arm, pointing back in the direction they first walked in from. ]
The woods open out onto the beach... there.
[ He looks at Tate, dropping his hand back onto the branch. ]
That's where we'll build your house. Facing the ocean. You'll be able to wake up to the waves, every time you slept over. You'll spend days just - sitting at the window, staring out over the horizon, reading one of the books I owe you. You'd be able to walk to my place in... two, maybe three minutes. And then...
[ Cautiously: ]
And then... come July, we'll be able to stay there together. You, me. Stiles, if you want him. Camped out under the light of the stars, warm and safe. It'll be... nice.
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Only. He looks to Derek quietly.]
Is it really going to work? In July. I mean, I want it to but... how? You and Stiles are important to one another and I know I'm important to you too. But... you promise that I won't be... imposing on anything? Like.
[He scratches at his forearm, light but hard enough to leave a white line underneath his sleeve.]
Stiles is okay with it?
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But if he says he hasn't run this past Stiles - that's just going to make Tate put his tail between his legs and run. Derek's not willing to do that. And anyway, why should he? Stiles is-- Stiles will be okay with it. He has to be. Stiles is the one who reminded Derek that Tate's kind of a liability to let loose. Stiles has seen how Tate gets, when he feels scared, or angry, or abandoned, and Stiles is the one who wondered if Tate would do something stupid if Derek fucked with his head too badly. Stiles told Derek not to cut Tate out of his life. Stiles is smart, and Stiles is empathetic, and Stiles has to know that Derek wouldn't be okay with letting Tate stay with fucking Kavinsky.
He'll get it. Of course he'll get it. Stiles is the best. Derek's not worried, even though - well, maybe he should be. He's not going to let himself be worried. That firmness goes, and he just shrugs. Casual, reassuring. He offers a smile, completely calm. He lies, because it doesn't even feel like a lie, it just - feels like a truth that hasn't been told yet. That's what he tells himself. ]
Yeah. You don't have to worry. It's all going to work out. I promise.
[ He nudges Tate's knee with his own, shuffling a little further towards Tate, keeping close. ]
You're an irreplaceable part of my life. Stop... comparing yourself to him.
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[Tate pinches his brows and tries to figure out his wording. He wants to buy into Derek's assurances and he does, he really does, but he feels like he needs to elaborate on the complexity of his feelings toward Stiles. Stiles, the guy who Derek loves. He said that, he means it. And Tate really, really admires that. Love, in a place like this?]
I just know how much you care about him. How much he cares about you. Regardless of what I am, what you have is important. And you need to promise me you'll do everything to prioritize that. I know we're gonna be pack, but you should always have him as a priority even still. That's what you do, when you love someone. Love them that way.
[True love.]
I know it'll work out. But I want to make sure it's good for all of us.
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You don't... need to tell me that. Stiles will always have the best of me. He deserves so much more than I can give him.
[ But even if this is a test, Derek isn't going to lie. Not so point blank. Stiles is a big fucking deal. The biggest fucking deal he has. He loves him. He might love Tate too, if not now, then soon, but. It'll be a very different kind of love. ]
I just don't want you to think you won't get the best of me, too.
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I want to... have someone like that one day. I thought I did, with Violet.
[A touchy subject - darkness encircles him at the thought, but he ebbs it away. Closes his eyes, breathes deep and scratches his nails back and forth on the denim over his knees. He relaxes, without any scratches. Cuts. Nicks. Bites or the color red to guide him here.]
I don't know how to start again. Especially here.
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He can't say all that. Can't look Tate directly in the eye and say that if the two of them were drowning, Derek might try to save them both, but there's no real decision to be made. He watches Tate, sees the way he unwinds. All on his own. ]
I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.
[ If he didn't have Stiles. If Tate would even want that with him. Maybe Derek wouldn't be enough. Maybe he wouldn't actually want to be enough, like that. He doesn't have feelings for Tate. Doesn't even have the start of them. He's just desperate to give Tate everything he can, and maybe he's saying something stupid and short-sighted and maybe he's only making things worse. Wouldn't be the first time. ]
Do you - I mean - do you have anyone you would want to... start over with? I know you want to be with Violet, but...
[ complicated. ]
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