[Derek says 'I'd... be that for you. If... yeah.' and it causes Tate to shoot him a mildly perplexed look, bordering almost on scared and uncertain. Why? Because he doesn't know how far to read into things with Derek, how to gauge when blowjob jokes are just jokes and when - there's more to be had than what meets the eye. Tate can't think why he'd say that other than if, by some chance, he meant it. And so he blanks, staring at Derek with wide eyes for a long moment before looking away.
He has Stiles, anyway. It's not like they'd... even if Stiles wasn't here, does he like Derek enough? He's attracted to him, sure. Has been since orientation, when he was touchy about being touched but also demanding. He scratches his upper arm and feels suddenly not so safe in the tree, looking down toward the ground and wondering what it would feel like to slip off and fall. He focuses on that and what it does to his stomach over what his stomach does in response to Derek.]
I dunno.
[That's a lie. His body screams that it's a lie out of every pore, every inch of his body takes a posture that reeks of it. He glances back up at Derek, uncertain, but decides that this is one of those times he can be honest. Selectively honest. He's no fool and he's not about to make the same mistakes as before - this, however, won't pull the rug out of what they have. He hopes.]
I don't know if I want that here. It... It wouldn't work? I mean, it'd be really hard. With how it works. Unless you're in love with your partner, it's tricky. Two subs - it's... it's always going to be weird.
[He picks at the frayed edge of torn denim on his knee, eyes staying downcast.]
But sometimes I think I start to feel things, maybe. I get excited to see people - a person - and hang out with them. But it's not like I'm going to date them. Date...
[ Tate looks - scared, and Derek reacts the same way he would have reacted if he were sharing this tree with Tate at fifteen instead of twenty-two, back before Kate charred away whatever naive, reactionary emotions he had in him outside of anger. He turns a little pink, looks down, looks away, looking - pointedly anywhere else. Embarrassed. Like he's been caught, doing something fucking stupid. Shy and dumb and stupid.
But he's not so selfish and entitled as to dwell on his own sudden spikes of shame once Tate's opening up to him about something pretty big. He swallows, resets himself, grounds himself and listens. Tate's - lying, obviously, and Derek doesn't push him, but the gravity of what's being breached here does make his stomach bubble with worry. He fears for a second that this is going to circle back to Kavinsky, and that he's going to have to confess that he met him, and that he swore he'd tear out his throat if he dared to speak to him again. Shit, his stomach really, really hurts.
But then Tate keeps going, says two subs, and Derek looks visibly miserable and apprehensive, but. Stable, at least. His gut response is to say - he'll sign that kid, too. Bring him into Derek's pack, the way he still wants to with Tate, and maybe he'll circle back to that, but sweeping, demanding promises based on nothing but the overprotective urge to fix everything hasn't exactly done wonders for what the two of them have. ]
What's...
[ Derek swallows. Tries to sound casual, instead of - heavily, heavily guarded. It doesn't work. He just sounds like he's trying not to... react. ]
[Tate feels - weird, after admitting it aloud. For all the attraction he's had, the sex he's had, with guys in the setting it's not like it's something that stuns him. It's just not something he's had practice in vocalizing; in sharing with other people. It's so much simpler to keep it private and contained, but his head feels bubbly and stupid and there's a feeling close to panic in his chest. He can't take this back either, now that he's said it. Shared it. Confided it.
He looks to Derek, dark eyes searching for something in the way he looks at his face. Derek doesn't give much in terms of comfort with the way he's guarding his reactions, and Tate seems a bit subdued as he tries to decide if he wants to keep talking about this or if it's another fucking mistake. It's not like he can just get up and walk the fuck away, either. He sucks in a slow breath.]
Peter. His name is Peter - he's just... just someone I know.
[And by know he means have repeatedly screwed but there's more to it than that. He thinks, at least. He knows how he feels about it and regardless of whether or not that's one sided, it can't be that weird to think it's nice to be in his company. That he's... warming to be around. He makes Tate feel his age in a weird way. Tate doesn't realize his face has flooded with color, but he gestures with his hands.]
[ Okay. Peter. Pretty terrible name, all things considered. Not off to a great start. Derek bristles, low-key deciding he doesn't like this dude, because if sweeping gestures and overdramatic promises haven't done wonders for his relationship with Tate, at least it's always helped when he's decided on arbitrary instinct to hate everyone Tate forms a connection with.
Derek nods, mechanical and distant, like he's not really there. There's a stretch of silence that feels painfully ongoing, but doesn't last very long at all. He breathes out a sigh, and it's only when he hears it leave him that he realizes he's just-- thinking, and being angry, and being possessive and stupid and jealous that there's someone else in Tate's life he hadn't known about, and generally... just... not being reassuring. He swallows, scrambling to catch up. ]
Sorry, I'm just - thinking.
[ Which doesn't sound good, actually, so Derek winces apologetically, setting both hands on the branch and holding on tight, like he's preparing to propel himself off the edge and eat complete and total shit on the ground below. He needs to know more about this guy? Peter. Is he Tate's age? Older? Jesus Christ, Derek's gonna kill him if he's older. There's another sigh, he hears himself again, realizes he's just circling the drain, here. He looks at Tate, tries to look - chill. Doesn't look chill. ]
Tate - this place doesn't make it easy to trust people. This place doesn't make it easy to like people, for that matter. I'm not saying you have to... rush into the idea of dating him, and I know that it's pretty fucking scary trying to survive this place as a sub, but. If there's someone in your life that's... kind, and decent, and good for you, then you should be fighting to hold onto that. Onto him.
[ But only if he's actually kind? And actually decent. Does this Peter prick do as many drugs as Kavinsky? How much fucking blood does he have on his hands? Peter. Peter. ]
[Tate watches Derek with that same wide eyed look as he 'thinks', whatever the hell that means. His chest feels a bit tight and he's sure his heart's so obviously in his throat during this prolonged moment of torture, because he doesn't know what's happening in Derek's head. Worse than it is with most people, trying to guess what's behind the calm or - well, angry - looking face of Derek's? It's hard.
And Tate hates not knowing what people think of him.
He thinks of the concept of dating and blanks when he tries to overlay it with his feelings toward Peter. He doesn't know how to date guys - doesn't know how to be so open about it the way he's sure Peter deserves. He's hung up on too much. This city hangs him up on even more. It wouldn't work, sub to sub. It wouldn't work because he's got two possessive Doms looking down over his life. It wouldn't work because Peter's far too sweet to be tainted by him. It wouldn't work.]
Like - Like I said, I know. I don't even know if that's what I want. I just... I've never had feelings like this before. For, for a guy. It's not just... it's not just like, ah.
[He rubs at his face, getting frustrated. It's harder to calm down now.]
It's not just physical stuff. I just like hearing him talk. I felt this way before, with Violet. Like I found someone who... who I'm excited to talk to. And see. Who wants to see me, though, too.
[ Another long, robotic pause. Tate's getting in his own head, and Derek feels like it's his fault, so there's just - another knot getting tightened in his stomach. His lips are dry, and he bites them, peeling off dead skin. The bark feels brittle beneath his thumb, and he starts digging away at it, ripping it clean, tortuously slow. ]
Good. Right? Putting aside all the... the rules of the city, the fact that he's a guy, everything that scares you about this - it's good, that you have him in your life. Right?
[ Derek leaves the branch alone. He's painfully aware of how he looks, how he's sitting, how his voice is frigid and emotionless, well-practiced in shielding how he feels from other werewolves, the kinds of people who could hear a skip in his heartbeat and use it to ruin him. Derek needs to make more of an effort to reassure Tate, so he just - reaches out, knocking his knuckles against Tate's calf. ]
You could just tell him how you feel. Maybe he feels the same way as you. Scared it wouldn't work. You could figure it out together.
[ Is that good advice? Jesus, that doesn't sound like good advice. Derek - scrambles, again. ]
[-want. Tate doesn't know, doesn't even begin to know how it would work. Again, it wouldn't. So he gets angry at Derek for suggesting it might, which is wholly counterproductive considering things worked out for him and that's exactly what Tate envies. He looks at Derek while biting back his words, biting back his bite, and tries to disentangle from the acidity in his throat on this subject and put himself back into the mode of an observer.
[ Tate gets angry, and Derek - well, Derek's getting good at seeing it coming. There's no yelling, this time, no threats, but it hurts, nevertheless, just as it always does. Other than a dip of his eyebrows in the middle, he doesn't let that hurt show, but fuck. Just once, he wants to help. Derek takes a bit of time before he starts talking, soft and cautious. ]
Back home - it took a while for Stiles and I to get along. I kind of hated him. He acted like he hated me, too, but he was just - you know. Scared.
[ Derek side-eyes Tate, then points to his jaw. Clacks his teeth together. Big wolf, big fangs. Tate probably gets his point. ]
These two kids went missing. Two of my betas. I spent an entire summer searching for them. Stiles helped. We spent... night after night, sleeping in the backseat of my Camaro or crashing in shitty motels together. Talking. Bonding. Got to know each other pretty well.
And then - I met a girl, and I started seeing her. She was fucking with my head, making me do it. Made me believe I had feelings that weren't ever really there. A few months passed and summer started feeling too far away to talk about - Jennifer died, we all moved on. Stiles got... kidnapped, in a sense. He met a girl, too. Stayed with her. So did I. I left for good, soon after that. Didn't say goodbye to him.
[ Just - got in a car and left. Broke up with Braeden soon after, leaving her to go back to Beacon Hills alone when Stiles needed him most. He doesn't know about that, yet. ]
I haven't lived that summer yet, but - that's when we fell in love. When he fell in love with me, at least, and with how I feel about him here, I'm pretty sure it would've been mutual. We didn't ever get the chance to be anything back home, but we're getting that here.
[ And... his point. Derek looks at Tate again, worried that he's not going to be clear about all of this. Worried that he's just - bragging. Dangling something in front of Tate that he wants and doesn't have. ]
So - I don't know. I guess I just mean - there are opportunities here that you wouldn't get to have back home. Maybe this Peter guy is one of them. If you want him to be. It's cool, if you don't. Maybe just-- the freedom to consider whether you would be interested in guys like that is opportunity enough. But.
[ but. ]
I'd help. If you wanted to ask him out. I could chaperone you guys around, do something decent with my privilege as a Dom. Pretend to be deaf when you start reciting poetry to each other. Things like that. It doesn't have to be as impossible as you're making it out to be, man.
[Tate thinks that this is a lot - to digest, to be told, but he drinks it all up nonetheless. Tate loves stories, loves hearing people tell him about their lives - maybe because it distracts him from his own. Gives him something fresh to settle on, to observe and try to understand. Derek and Stiles have it better that they're from the same world, where they're not just here by chance for as long as they last. Of course it's easier for them to try things, if it works out... well, it works out wherever they are.
He finds romance in what Derek tells him and again he pines for that, scratching at his upper arm almost shy as he tries not to feel too jealous. He'd going to be holding Derek to what he said about ensuring it works out - that there's an even amount of love for pack and mate both. If, Tate surmises, that's possible.]
Yoooou are not supervising anything.
[That just comes out of his mouth first and foremost, before he laughs lightly. Quirks his brows and kicks his feet, like - well. It is kind of funny. Nice to be offered but uh. Derek?]
Maybe sometime down the road you could help us score a quiet place to chill. But I know the beach is off limits, and the treehouse will be too. Got any other locations that might be okay to just... hang in?
[ You're not supervising anything, Tate says, and Derek is immediately annoyed. He bristles, looking at Tate like he's ready to pick a fight over this, but then - something clicks. ]
Right. Okay.
[ The fucking. Obviously. Obviously there'd be fucking. Jesus. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumb and just - rapidly glosses past this part. Feels like his instinct to ask are you sure you're using protection would be a pretty fucking stupid hill to start climbing now, so he lets that die, too. ]
Yeah. Sure. I've been trying to find somewhere I can go, if I ever... I mean, if I ever do get to have a pack again. I'd need a place away from the den, so. Know a few secret places out of the way.
[ They're not particularly romantic places, but they're safe and secure, at least. He'll just have to figure out which potential lair for the pack he's probably never going to actually have he'd be willing to give up and turn into fucking Makeout Point for a definitely heterosexual teen and his not-boyfriend. ]
[Tate feels that - strange sort of tension there on the topic but at the same time, it transitions through it so fast and smooth that he's oddly pleased. He doesn't need to elaborate and Derek... understands? He's supportive. Maybe Tate's just projecting what he wants out of this onto Derek an his actions, but he can almost appreciate the overbearingly protective dude's attitude here.
He scratches at his ear though. Still a bit pink.]
If you'll share those, or whatever. It'd be nice. But if not, it's cool. We'll work it out.
[They can go hold hands in the library or some shit.]
Can I ask you another question? Sort of related, but... not really.
[ Overprotective's all he's got, really. No personality other than being a hardass, very little revenue in the way of stable friendships. He still wants to pick a fight, but. Gets why he can't. ]
When do you know when to tell people... the important stuff? Like, you trusted me with your secret. I guess I just don't know when I should start trusting people back. Like, me dying's kinda... a bummer for a conversation. I don't even really like bringing it up but, is that okay? To not tell - someone? If it just... makes it easier for everyone?
[Some things you should tell and it's not like he's against explaining himself, but it's such a... small thing in the grand scheme. Yeah, he's dead. Only not. But someone like Peter is going to take it a hell of a lot different than Derek. Derek understands the supernatural, he knows what hard choices are. Peter's - well, he's Peter? Tate has no reason to believe he's anything more than a sweet hearted teenage nerd.]
I guess I don't want it getting around, either. That I'm Casper the freakin' ghost.
[ Wow, he's not the person to ask about this. Derek listens, feels a shot of fear and guilt over Tate not wanting his death getting around, and he ultimately struggles to come up with some decent and fulfilling advice. ]
I don't... trust people, Tate. You're a pretty fucking big exception for me.
[ But - if he can't give advice, he can at least tell Tate his experience with him? Feels kind of shallow, though. Derek's visibly insecure, pressing his lips together, swinging one leg in the air beneath him. ]
I told you about... being a werewolf, about my sisters, and about the fire, because I want to be as close to you as possible. It's - scary, and it's hard, every time, but I want...
Doesn't matter. I've talked enough about... you. Like that. [ He rubs the back of his neck, shoots Tate a sidelong glance. ] Just - if you want someone to like you for you, they need to actually know you, right? Hiding everything important is only going to get you half a relationship.
I get it. I just... I guess I'm afraid of people leaving.
[He admits this, and it feels like this much has been obvious for a while. Has he spoken to Derek about it? Probably, in bits and pieces spread out over his time here. Maybe he needs to explain it a bit because he's sure he's not the only one who remembers his epic break down when Derek tried to leave; how Tate crumbled into distressed tears in any attempt to keep him from going.
Tate tugs down his sleeves, covering his hands. Whatever he's covered already he doesn't mind glossing over again, for a more complete story. He'll still narrate with some pieces removed, just because he's still not sure he can be as completely honest with Derek as he was once so naive enough to believe.]
My dad left when I was a kid and he left me with my mother. You - You know how I feel about her. What she's done and how it's messed me up. My therapist says I have a fear of rejection, or he - said - whatever. Before I came here, I was seeing him to try and sort everything out. Thought I'd get better.
[He shrugs quietly.]
My mom was never pleased with me, she was the type who always wanted more. Better. More in line with how she thought I should be, versus who I really was. She held me and my siblings to... standards we couldn't compete with. Even though I hate her, I guess - I still want to be what I can't. And I got scared here that maybe I couldn't be what you wanted, too. But I'm trying. Not because you want it, but because I want to be that way too.
[ It's not a revelation, that Tate's afraid. Derek doesn't think it'll be a revelation when he says the same thing back, - ]
Me too.
[ - but maybe it will be. His voice is quiet and sounds like it hasn't been used for days, like he's exhausted and forcing the words out when they'd rather just sleep. It's not an excuse, but-- but they were both scared in the same direction, when Tate signed with somebody else. Tate scared Derek, and Derek scared Tate back. It was... bad.
Unhealthy, maybe. Derek bites the inside of his cheek while Tate talks, listening intently, not blinking in case he misses something. A skip in Tate's heartbeat that says he needs comfort, a twitch in his hand to show he's getting too nervous to talk. Anything. He listens. ]
You know that I don't... want you to change, right? There's no standard to meet here, like... like with your mom. I want to help you get better, but that's just because I want you to feel... happier. And I know that it's what you want, too.
[ And he doesn't want to sound like he's... enabling Tate not betting himself, but carefully, he adds - ]
I just like talking to you. Being around you. I like you as you are. Your dad would have, too, if he'd stayed to watch you grow up.
[ Every single one of Tate's episodes have been his fault, so. He can't sit here telling Tate he needs to change when he was the one who made him choke him in orientation, he was the one who made him feel left out at the fort, he was the one threatening to keep Tate against his will at the hotel. ]
[Tate smiles a sad little smile at that - like he gets the sentiment and appreciates it, but knows it's far too fucking long gone to keep dwelling over it. And yet he does, time after time, keep coming back to the people in his life who did him wrong. Maybe it was because he used to be stuck in time, dwelling on his issues forever. Here he gets to change it - maybe he really needs to try harder and move on.]
Thanks. I... I'm not used to people supporting me. So if I - I bite, it's just 'cause I'm scared, okay? You get that. I know you do.
[He hopes he does.]
Can I ask another stupid question? Less relevant but... my ass is falling asleep. How exactly are we gonna get down from here?
Yeah. I'm-- all that shit I said after you told me you had a contract, that was just-- fear. I didn't...
[ ... mean it. He's already apologized for this. Harping on the same shit, apologizing again and again, all that does is bring up old wounds to poke around in. He's gotta be a fucking adult. Bottle his feelings. That's what he's used to, by now. Just -
It'd be easier if he could rely on his anger, like he used to. Sometimes. Months of being with Stiles has really started to soften him up.
Tate asks how they're going to get down, and Derek... shrugs. He takes this as a dismissal and figures their time here's nearly up - unless Derek can figure out how to guilt him into staying by talking about the tree house, or something. He stands, a little rickety, hooking one arm around the trunk and offering Tate the other. ]
[Tate's talking when he's trying to also stand, getting his foot on the branch while reaching for Derek's hand. It's a rocky way to get back up, and he wasn't lying about his ass being asleep. So is part of his leg, which is why his sneaker slides a bit on the bark and he slips forward, grabbing at Derek's shirt before looking down to the distance below them. He shuffles closer toward Derek and doesn't let go. Does whisper a soft fuck under his breath, though.
He blinks, then looks back up to Derek sheepishly.]
I should've talked to you before I signed. It was selfish. I'm sorry - again, ah. I'll do better. I want to do better. I really do.
[ There's a lot that Derek wants to say - of course there is, he might not ever really be over what happened - but he's not going to get into it all again, least of all when Tate's precariously trying to find his balance this high up in the fucking sky. Derek doesn't say anything until he has a firm grip on Tate, moving back to stand on the very, very edge of the branch so Tate can walk ahead of him and climb down first. ]
Not... trying to make you feel bad.
[ Just trying to say he was afraid. More afraid then than he is of falling, right now. Derek's grip around the trunk slips a little, but he holds on tight, his other hand firm on Tate's forearm. ]
I just - I want you to know, okay? I'm doing... what I can to be better. You inspire me.
[But enough sucking up - Tate's precariously moving along, working to grab on to the tree trunk and start descending. It's way harder than he figured, and his stupid ghost body's not exactly equipped for strenuous activity. His arms ache and he realizes how close he is to slipping a few times. At least, he figures, if he falls - it's not like it'll stick.]
Wh-Why exactly was it smart for me to go down first?
[Lightly sarcastic. He's getting there, bit by bit. He stops about six feet up, and sits back down on that branch as if waiting for Derek to move on ahead. Because he is. Also because his arms are fucking killing him. Since when did climbing make your goddamn armpits sore?]
[ Man, that's stupid. Tate hits Derek where he lives, making his heart feel three times as big, but at the same time, he just feels kind of sick. "You inspire me," he says to the guy wallowing in his pity over what a fucking asshole move it was to yell at Tate and threaten to lock him away in a hotel suite in the middle of the fucking full moon. Derek wonders what Tate would say, if he knew how close he came to being mauled. Literally, presumably, though Stiles lived to tell a different tale, so. Jesus, wow, okay, he thinks about something else.
Probably not something he's going to bring up, either way. Ever. Tate starts moving and Derek joins him soon enough, climbing down the side of the tree with an obnoxious amount of ease that Tate just doesn't have. He's going slow, keeping it leisurely. Just in case he needs to move fast to catch Tate when his stupid ghost ass loses grip.
Tate sits on a branch and Derek just - keeps going, climbing down until he hits the ground, and then he just... collapses. He's not tired, but he doesn't want to go home just yet, so he falls flat onto the ground, laying on his back and stretching out in the grass and the dirt. It's not the softest bed he's ever been on, but. Least he can look up at Tate without craning his neck. ]
[Tate says cheerfully from up on his branch, waving the middle finger at Derek. He contemplates climbing down but hesitates a little bit longer, letting his legs swing as he looks around. He's going to have to come and practice climbing, maybe that's another thing he can do when not at the beach. Things to occupy his time - he's getting quite a few.
Finally, he carefully slips off the branch, hangs from it from a second, albeit awkwardly - and drops to his feet. Kinda hurts his ankle but he's fine, so he collapses down next to Derek to join him in staring up at the sky.]
Face it, you like me. I'm gonna be all over these woods. Forever.
[ Tate doesn't have the energy to flip Tate off in return. He just looks at him kind of blearily, sun filtering through the leaves and lighting him up. He's so - excited, to get this all done. The tree house, the contract. The life he's going to build for the people that matter most. ]
I do. I like you very much. More than you like me, which is - you know. Heartbreaking, but understandable.
[ Given, you know, all this. Derek references his face with one hand, as if he's ugly and plain and not this fucking bullshit, unfair depiction of chiseled masculinity. Tate's just joking when he says he'll be all over these woods forever, but - shit, Derek takes him too seriously. It goes straight to his chest, making it hard to breathe, and he doesn't say much until Tate's safely sprawled out alongside him. He keeps looking at the sky, rather than at him.
He's getting anxious, and it's the kind of anxious he needs Stiles around to help him with, and - he's not here, so. It's just there, now. Anxiety. ]
Don't make promises like that unless you mean them.
[Tate is still feeling a thrumming in his chest at 'I like you very much. More than you like me-' which he doesn't really get. Is it a joke? Reads like one but Tate almost felt compelled to defend himself, say he's the one who probably likes Derek a bit too much. But he bit his tongue before he did, because part of him acknowledges that as... too much. Too much for this moment.
It's not exactly comfortable laying on the dirt, so Tate wiggles a bit and breathes out hard, like he's a dog who just can't get comfortable. He bends his knee, laying it flat with his calf beneath his other leg and picks up a twig off the ground, twirling it between his fingers while looking sidelong at Derek.]
Wanna pinky swear on it? I will. And that shit's sacred.
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no subject
He has Stiles, anyway. It's not like they'd... even if Stiles wasn't here, does he like Derek enough? He's attracted to him, sure. Has been since orientation, when he was touchy about being touched but also demanding. He scratches his upper arm and feels suddenly not so safe in the tree, looking down toward the ground and wondering what it would feel like to slip off and fall. He focuses on that and what it does to his stomach over what his stomach does in response to Derek.]
I dunno.
[That's a lie. His body screams that it's a lie out of every pore, every inch of his body takes a posture that reeks of it. He glances back up at Derek, uncertain, but decides that this is one of those times he can be honest. Selectively honest. He's no fool and he's not about to make the same mistakes as before - this, however, won't pull the rug out of what they have. He hopes.]
I don't know if I want that here. It... It wouldn't work? I mean, it'd be really hard. With how it works. Unless you're in love with your partner, it's tricky. Two subs - it's... it's always going to be weird.
[He picks at the frayed edge of torn denim on his knee, eyes staying downcast.]
But sometimes I think I start to feel things, maybe. I get excited to see people - a person - and hang out with them. But it's not like I'm going to date them. Date...
[He freezes. Closes his eyes. Counts his threes.]
Him.
no subject
But he's not so selfish and entitled as to dwell on his own sudden spikes of shame once Tate's opening up to him about something pretty big. He swallows, resets himself, grounds himself and listens. Tate's - lying, obviously, and Derek doesn't push him, but the gravity of what's being breached here does make his stomach bubble with worry. He fears for a second that this is going to circle back to Kavinsky, and that he's going to have to confess that he met him, and that he swore he'd tear out his throat if he dared to speak to him again. Shit, his stomach really, really hurts.
But then Tate keeps going, says two subs, and Derek looks visibly miserable and apprehensive, but. Stable, at least. His gut response is to say - he'll sign that kid, too. Bring him into Derek's pack, the way he still wants to with Tate, and maybe he'll circle back to that, but sweeping, demanding promises based on nothing but the overprotective urge to fix everything hasn't exactly done wonders for what the two of them have. ]
What's...
[ Derek swallows. Tries to sound casual, instead of - heavily, heavily guarded. It doesn't work. He just sounds like he's trying not to... react. ]
What's his name?
no subject
He looks to Derek, dark eyes searching for something in the way he looks at his face. Derek doesn't give much in terms of comfort with the way he's guarding his reactions, and Tate seems a bit subdued as he tries to decide if he wants to keep talking about this or if it's another fucking mistake. It's not like he can just get up and walk the fuck away, either. He sucks in a slow breath.]
Peter. His name is Peter - he's just... just someone I know.
[And by know he means have repeatedly screwed but there's more to it than that. He thinks, at least. He knows how he feels about it and regardless of whether or not that's one sided, it can't be that weird to think it's nice to be in his company. That he's... warming to be around. He makes Tate feel his age in a weird way. Tate doesn't realize his face has flooded with color, but he gestures with his hands.]
Like I said. It's not like we're gonna date.
no subject
Derek nods, mechanical and distant, like he's not really there. There's a stretch of silence that feels painfully ongoing, but doesn't last very long at all. He breathes out a sigh, and it's only when he hears it leave him that he realizes he's just-- thinking, and being angry, and being possessive and stupid and jealous that there's someone else in Tate's life he hadn't known about, and generally... just... not being reassuring. He swallows, scrambling to catch up. ]
Sorry, I'm just - thinking.
[ Which doesn't sound good, actually, so Derek winces apologetically, setting both hands on the branch and holding on tight, like he's preparing to propel himself off the edge and eat complete and total shit on the ground below. He needs to know more about this guy? Peter. Is he Tate's age? Older? Jesus Christ, Derek's gonna kill him if he's older. There's another sigh, he hears himself again, realizes he's just circling the drain, here. He looks at Tate, tries to look - chill. Doesn't look chill. ]
Tate - this place doesn't make it easy to trust people. This place doesn't make it easy to like people, for that matter. I'm not saying you have to... rush into the idea of dating him, and I know that it's pretty fucking scary trying to survive this place as a sub, but. If there's someone in your life that's... kind, and decent, and good for you, then you should be fighting to hold onto that. Onto him.
[ But only if he's actually kind? And actually decent. Does this Peter prick do as many drugs as Kavinsky? How much fucking blood does he have on his hands? Peter. Peter. ]
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And Tate hates not knowing what people think of him.
He thinks of the concept of dating and blanks when he tries to overlay it with his feelings toward Peter. He doesn't know how to date guys - doesn't know how to be so open about it the way he's sure Peter deserves. He's hung up on too much. This city hangs him up on even more. It wouldn't work, sub to sub. It wouldn't work because he's got two possessive Doms looking down over his life. It wouldn't work because Peter's far too sweet to be tainted by him. It wouldn't work.]
Like - Like I said, I know. I don't even know if that's what I want. I just... I've never had feelings like this before. For, for a guy. It's not just... it's not just like, ah.
[He rubs at his face, getting frustrated. It's harder to calm down now.]
It's not just physical stuff. I just like hearing him talk. I felt this way before, with Violet. Like I found someone who... who I'm excited to talk to. And see. Who wants to see me, though, too.
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[ Another long, robotic pause. Tate's getting in his own head, and Derek feels like it's his fault, so there's just - another knot getting tightened in his stomach. His lips are dry, and he bites them, peeling off dead skin. The bark feels brittle beneath his thumb, and he starts digging away at it, ripping it clean, tortuously slow. ]
Good. Right? Putting aside all the... the rules of the city, the fact that he's a guy, everything that scares you about this - it's good, that you have him in your life. Right?
[ Derek leaves the branch alone. He's painfully aware of how he looks, how he's sitting, how his voice is frigid and emotionless, well-practiced in shielding how he feels from other werewolves, the kinds of people who could hear a skip in his heartbeat and use it to ruin him. Derek needs to make more of an effort to reassure Tate, so he just - reaches out, knocking his knuckles against Tate's calf. ]
You could just tell him how you feel. Maybe he feels the same way as you. Scared it wouldn't work. You could figure it out together.
[ Is that good advice? Jesus, that doesn't sound like good advice. Derek - scrambles, again. ]
Can I... tell you how Stiles and I started?
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[-want. Tate doesn't know, doesn't even begin to know how it would work. Again, it wouldn't. So he gets angry at Derek for suggesting it might, which is wholly counterproductive considering things worked out for him and that's exactly what Tate envies. He looks at Derek while biting back his words, biting back his bite, and tries to disentangle from the acidity in his throat on this subject and put himself back into the mode of an observer.
Stiles and Derek. He can listen to this.]
Yeah. Tell me? I... I wanna hear.
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Back home - it took a while for Stiles and I to get along. I kind of hated him. He acted like he hated me, too, but he was just - you know. Scared.
[ Derek side-eyes Tate, then points to his jaw. Clacks his teeth together. Big wolf, big fangs. Tate probably gets his point. ]
These two kids went missing. Two of my betas. I spent an entire summer searching for them. Stiles helped. We spent... night after night, sleeping in the backseat of my Camaro or crashing in shitty motels together. Talking. Bonding. Got to know each other pretty well.
And then - I met a girl, and I started seeing her. She was fucking with my head, making me do it. Made me believe I had feelings that weren't ever really there. A few months passed and summer started feeling too far away to talk about - Jennifer died, we all moved on. Stiles got... kidnapped, in a sense. He met a girl, too. Stayed with her. So did I. I left for good, soon after that. Didn't say goodbye to him.
[ Just - got in a car and left. Broke up with Braeden soon after, leaving her to go back to Beacon Hills alone when Stiles needed him most. He doesn't know about that, yet. ]
I haven't lived that summer yet, but - that's when we fell in love. When he fell in love with me, at least, and with how I feel about him here, I'm pretty sure it would've been mutual. We didn't ever get the chance to be anything back home, but we're getting that here.
[ And... his point. Derek looks at Tate again, worried that he's not going to be clear about all of this. Worried that he's just - bragging. Dangling something in front of Tate that he wants and doesn't have. ]
So - I don't know. I guess I just mean - there are opportunities here that you wouldn't get to have back home. Maybe this Peter guy is one of them. If you want him to be. It's cool, if you don't. Maybe just-- the freedom to consider whether you would be interested in guys like that is opportunity enough. But.
[ but. ]
I'd help. If you wanted to ask him out. I could chaperone you guys around, do something decent with my privilege as a Dom. Pretend to be deaf when you start reciting poetry to each other. Things like that. It doesn't have to be as impossible as you're making it out to be, man.
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He finds romance in what Derek tells him and again he pines for that, scratching at his upper arm almost shy as he tries not to feel too jealous. He'd going to be holding Derek to what he said about ensuring it works out - that there's an even amount of love for pack and mate both. If, Tate surmises, that's possible.]
Yoooou are not supervising anything.
[That just comes out of his mouth first and foremost, before he laughs lightly. Quirks his brows and kicks his feet, like - well. It is kind of funny. Nice to be offered but uh. Derek?]
Maybe sometime down the road you could help us score a quiet place to chill. But I know the beach is off limits, and the treehouse will be too. Got any other locations that might be okay to just... hang in?
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Right. Okay.
[ The fucking. Obviously. Obviously there'd be fucking. Jesus. Derek scratches his eyebrow with his thumb and just - rapidly glosses past this part. Feels like his instinct to ask are you sure you're using protection would be a pretty fucking stupid hill to start climbing now, so he lets that die, too. ]
Yeah. Sure. I've been trying to find somewhere I can go, if I ever... I mean, if I ever do get to have a pack again. I'd need a place away from the den, so. Know a few secret places out of the way.
[ They're not particularly romantic places, but they're safe and secure, at least. He'll just have to figure out which potential lair for the pack he's probably never going to actually have he'd be willing to give up and turn into fucking Makeout Point for a definitely heterosexual teen and his not-boyfriend. ]
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[Tate feels that - strange sort of tension there on the topic but at the same time, it transitions through it so fast and smooth that he's oddly pleased. He doesn't need to elaborate and Derek... understands? He's supportive. Maybe Tate's just projecting what he wants out of this onto Derek an his actions, but he can almost appreciate the overbearingly protective dude's attitude here.
He scratches at his ear though. Still a bit pink.]
If you'll share those, or whatever. It'd be nice. But if not, it's cool. We'll work it out.
[They can go hold hands in the library or some shit.]
Can I ask you another question? Sort of related, but... not really.
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Shoot.
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[Some things you should tell and it's not like he's against explaining himself, but it's such a... small thing in the grand scheme. Yeah, he's dead. Only not. But someone like Peter is going to take it a hell of a lot different than Derek. Derek understands the supernatural, he knows what hard choices are. Peter's - well, he's Peter? Tate has no reason to believe he's anything more than a sweet hearted teenage nerd.]
I guess I don't want it getting around, either. That I'm Casper the freakin' ghost.
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I don't... trust people, Tate. You're a pretty fucking big exception for me.
[ But - if he can't give advice, he can at least tell Tate his experience with him? Feels kind of shallow, though. Derek's visibly insecure, pressing his lips together, swinging one leg in the air beneath him. ]
I told you about... being a werewolf, about my sisters, and about the fire, because I want to be as close to you as possible. It's - scary, and it's hard, every time, but I want...
[ You. Them. Something unbreakable. Derek shakes his head, trailing off. ]
Doesn't matter. I've talked enough about... you. Like that. [ He rubs the back of his neck, shoots Tate a sidelong glance. ] Just - if you want someone to like you for you, they need to actually know you, right? Hiding everything important is only going to get you half a relationship.
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[He admits this, and it feels like this much has been obvious for a while. Has he spoken to Derek about it? Probably, in bits and pieces spread out over his time here. Maybe he needs to explain it a bit because he's sure he's not the only one who remembers his epic break down when Derek tried to leave; how Tate crumbled into distressed tears in any attempt to keep him from going.
Tate tugs down his sleeves, covering his hands. Whatever he's covered already he doesn't mind glossing over again, for a more complete story. He'll still narrate with some pieces removed, just because he's still not sure he can be as completely honest with Derek as he was once so naive enough to believe.]
My dad left when I was a kid and he left me with my mother. You - You know how I feel about her. What she's done and how it's messed me up. My therapist says I have a fear of rejection, or he - said - whatever. Before I came here, I was seeing him to try and sort everything out. Thought I'd get better.
[He shrugs quietly.]
My mom was never pleased with me, she was the type who always wanted more. Better. More in line with how she thought I should be, versus who I really was. She held me and my siblings to... standards we couldn't compete with. Even though I hate her, I guess - I still want to be what I can't. And I got scared here that maybe I couldn't be what you wanted, too. But I'm trying. Not because you want it, but because I want to be that way too.
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Me too.
[ - but maybe it will be. His voice is quiet and sounds like it hasn't been used for days, like he's exhausted and forcing the words out when they'd rather just sleep. It's not an excuse, but-- but they were both scared in the same direction, when Tate signed with somebody else. Tate scared Derek, and Derek scared Tate back. It was... bad.
Unhealthy, maybe. Derek bites the inside of his cheek while Tate talks, listening intently, not blinking in case he misses something. A skip in Tate's heartbeat that says he needs comfort, a twitch in his hand to show he's getting too nervous to talk. Anything. He listens. ]
You know that I don't... want you to change, right? There's no standard to meet here, like... like with your mom. I want to help you get better, but that's just because I want you to feel... happier. And I know that it's what you want, too.
[ And he doesn't want to sound like he's... enabling Tate not betting himself, but carefully, he adds - ]
I just like talking to you. Being around you. I like you as you are. Your dad would have, too, if he'd stayed to watch you grow up.
[ Every single one of Tate's episodes have been his fault, so. He can't sit here telling Tate he needs to change when he was the one who made him choke him in orientation, he was the one who made him feel left out at the fort, he was the one threatening to keep Tate against his will at the hotel. ]
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Thanks. I... I'm not used to people supporting me. So if I - I bite, it's just 'cause I'm scared, okay? You get that. I know you do.
[He hopes he does.]
Can I ask another stupid question? Less relevant but... my ass is falling asleep. How exactly are we gonna get down from here?
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[ ... mean it. He's already apologized for this. Harping on the same shit, apologizing again and again, all that does is bring up old wounds to poke around in. He's gotta be a fucking adult. Bottle his feelings. That's what he's used to, by now. Just -
It'd be easier if he could rely on his anger, like he used to. Sometimes. Months of being with Stiles has really started to soften him up.
Tate asks how they're going to get down, and Derek... shrugs. He takes this as a dismissal and figures their time here's nearly up - unless Derek can figure out how to guilt him into staying by talking about the tree house, or something. He stands, a little rickety, hooking one arm around the trunk and offering Tate the other. ]
C'mon. I'll help you up.
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[Tate's talking when he's trying to also stand, getting his foot on the branch while reaching for Derek's hand. It's a rocky way to get back up, and he wasn't lying about his ass being asleep. So is part of his leg, which is why his sneaker slides a bit on the bark and he slips forward, grabbing at Derek's shirt before looking down to the distance below them. He shuffles closer toward Derek and doesn't let go. Does whisper a soft fuck under his breath, though.
He blinks, then looks back up to Derek sheepishly.]
I should've talked to you before I signed. It was selfish. I'm sorry - again, ah. I'll do better. I want to do better. I really do.
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Not... trying to make you feel bad.
[ Just trying to say he was afraid. More afraid then than he is of falling, right now. Derek's grip around the trunk slips a little, but he holds on tight, his other hand firm on Tate's forearm. ]
C'mon. You go first. I'll follow.
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[But enough sucking up - Tate's precariously moving along, working to grab on to the tree trunk and start descending. It's way harder than he figured, and his stupid ghost body's not exactly equipped for strenuous activity. His arms ache and he realizes how close he is to slipping a few times. At least, he figures, if he falls - it's not like it'll stick.]
Wh-Why exactly was it smart for me to go down first?
[Lightly sarcastic. He's getting there, bit by bit. He stops about six feet up, and sits back down on that branch as if waiting for Derek to move on ahead. Because he is. Also because his arms are fucking killing him. Since when did climbing make your goddamn armpits sore?]
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Probably not something he's going to bring up, either way. Ever. Tate starts moving and Derek joins him soon enough, climbing down the side of the tree with an obnoxious amount of ease that Tate just doesn't have. He's going slow, keeping it leisurely. Just in case he needs to move fast to catch Tate when his stupid ghost ass loses grip.
Tate sits on a branch and Derek just - keeps going, climbing down until he hits the ground, and then he just... collapses. He's not tired, but he doesn't want to go home just yet, so he falls flat onto the ground, laying on his back and stretching out in the grass and the dirt. It's not the softest bed he's ever been on, but. Least he can look up at Tate without craning his neck. ]
I'm never bringing you to the woods again.
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[Tate says cheerfully from up on his branch, waving the middle finger at Derek. He contemplates climbing down but hesitates a little bit longer, letting his legs swing as he looks around. He's going to have to come and practice climbing, maybe that's another thing he can do when not at the beach. Things to occupy his time - he's getting quite a few.
Finally, he carefully slips off the branch, hangs from it from a second, albeit awkwardly - and drops to his feet. Kinda hurts his ankle but he's fine, so he collapses down next to Derek to join him in staring up at the sky.]
Face it, you like me. I'm gonna be all over these woods. Forever.
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I do. I like you very much. More than you like me, which is - you know. Heartbreaking, but understandable.
[ Given, you know, all this. Derek references his face with one hand, as if he's ugly and plain and not this fucking bullshit, unfair depiction of chiseled masculinity. Tate's just joking when he says he'll be all over these woods forever, but - shit, Derek takes him too seriously. It goes straight to his chest, making it hard to breathe, and he doesn't say much until Tate's safely sprawled out alongside him. He keeps looking at the sky, rather than at him.
He's getting anxious, and it's the kind of anxious he needs Stiles around to help him with, and - he's not here, so. It's just there, now. Anxiety. ]
Don't make promises like that unless you mean them.
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[Tate is still feeling a thrumming in his chest at 'I like you very much. More than you like me-' which he doesn't really get. Is it a joke? Reads like one but Tate almost felt compelled to defend himself, say he's the one who probably likes Derek a bit too much. But he bit his tongue before he did, because part of him acknowledges that as... too much. Too much for this moment.
It's not exactly comfortable laying on the dirt, so Tate wiggles a bit and breathes out hard, like he's a dog who just can't get comfortable. He bends his knee, laying it flat with his calf beneath his other leg and picks up a twig off the ground, twirling it between his fingers while looking sidelong at Derek.]
Wanna pinky swear on it? I will. And that shit's sacred.
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