Boy wonder. [ Though it comes out in a rolling growl, close to Stiles' shoulder, it sounds a little tired. Derek was... while not completely social, opting to spend a greater amount of time to himself, he wasn't a wallflower or considered awkward. He'd been an athlete, had friends in that social circle, was considered popular.
And then everything had changed, ripped out from beneath his feet.
He turns his head, lips brushing across Stiles' temple almost absently as his own gloved hand shifts so he can lace their fingers together. With a return squeeze, he reassure him that he's fine-- just in need of recharging. ] How much have you had to drink?
A couple and a half. [ He raises his other hand innocently; he's still pretty put together, just smiling a little wider, cheeks a little redder. Stiles does lean backwards a little into Derek, comfortably, and tilts into him. It's all natural at this point; Stiles doesn't have to fake the easy comfort that comes with having his "spouse" at his back.
Waving two fingers at Scott in a be right back motion, he turns towards him and presses a soft, affectionate, and probably not really fake kiss to his mouth. ] Why, can I introduce you to the alllcohol?
Mm. [ Innocently his ass. But he likes the look on Stiles, likes how free he seems to be while tipsy and warm. Affection is clear in his eyes as he looks down at him, even if the rest of his face is largely hidden by the cowl that he's used to effectively cut himself off from everyone else for the time being. Just makes it easier to skulk around, find Stiles and reattach himself to him.
Bringing his hand up, Derek touches his face gently, thumbing at his jaw as he returns the gentle kiss. A smile breaks his expression, honest but hidden between them as he laughs softly. ] If you want me to drink everyone at the party under the table.
[ Stiles' mouth falls into a grin in return, and he unwinds himself from Derek's chest just a little, keeping the hold on his hand. ] Only if I get to make bets first. Jackson's pretty cocky.
[ And using that hold, he leads him over to the table anyway, fishing out a beer from an ice bucket for them both. It's a thinly veiled way to steer him away from the crowd, and he continues to lead Derek on a winding path through the party until he finds the perfect spot he'd scoped out earlier; a large, comfortable armchair, within chatting range for most of the people but still tucked away.
He makes a little shooing motion for him to sit, holding the beer out of the way until then. So got this. ]
Bets are all on you. [ Expression fading into his general neutralness, but no less fond if one looks for it, Derek lets Stiles move back before he's leading them along. It's easy for him to follow, unlike it was when they first met.
And it's easy to tell what he's doing, it's so thinly veiled, but he doesn't call him out on it and instead simply lets him make a path for them. It's a relief that Stiles knows exactly what he needs right now, even if it's something so simple as just recharging his metaphorical batteries so he doesn't wind up beating someone over the head with a decoration or something.
A small chuff escapes him, but he still obeys the motion, going to sit. ]
He doesn't need all that money anyway. [ There's definitely a twinkle of mischief to his tone at that; be afraid, Jackson, be afraid.
Once Derek sits, Stiles joins him, folding up his long limbs and settling on his lap, feet dangling, and cracks open his beer, then passes the other one to Derek. He doesn't have to say anything--he's just gotten to the point where he knows, can read Derek like a freakin' book. Which, all things considered, is a huge improvement on their relationship from when they first met.
Taking a drink, he leans in to speak in his ear, tone slightly teasing. ] The night will take a load off every now and then.
He definitely doesn't. [ He doesn't seem particularly adverse to the idea of Jackson losing money, really. He's not that fond of him in the least bit.
Letting Stiles get settled, Derek makes himself comfortable, folding one leg so that his ankle rests beneath his knee. Compared to the start of their relationship, it's incredibly easy for him to just curl up with him in the chair, take the proffered beer while reaching to pull his cowl back. It leaves his hair fluffy, looking more like Stiles' hairstyle than his own, a bird's nest rather than something more intentional.
Once his own beer is opened, face revealed again, he gently slips his arm around Stiles and take a drink. Behind the bottle, though, a quiet smile curls at his mouth. ] Only because you were so insistent.
[ An affectionate smile twinges across Stiles' face, and the teenager reaches over to ruffle his hair. It's completely destroyed courtesy of the cowl, and it's more reminiscent of bedhead than it's usual bad boy spike, and Stiles snickers, but leaves his hand curled lightly in his hair. ]
Dude, you think that was insistent? You clearly are not well acquainted with me and insistent. Me and insistent are besties. [ He takes a sip of his own drink with his free hand, and settles comfortably, glancing out at the party. ]
[ Tipping his head into Stiles' touch, a quietly pleased sort of noise escapes Derek as he closes his eyes. He doesn't even care that he's not completely put together like he typically is, because Stiles soothes all of his nerves and leaves him more at ease. Even if there's other people everywhere.
A faint chuckle leaves him, and he squeezes his fingers against his hip where his hand has settled. ] I'm very acquainted with your insistent side, believe me. I've encountered it in its many stages, very often.
[ Sometimes Derek has these doglike tendencies that undoubtedly put a huge grin on his face; it reminds him of Scott, a little, but it's more wolflike. Like he's some giant predator who's just completely melting in the face of scratchies. It makes the smile on his face tilt up even more, and he scratches at his scalp lazily, tilting his head to rest his cheek against Derek's stubbled one. ]
Good, I wouldn't want you to be unprepared for that. I'm a force to be reckoned with. [ Which is true in so many senses of the word. ]
[ Securing his arm a little more snugly around Stiles' middle, something in him relaxes further with the stupid scratchies. His eyes remain closed for the time being as he just gets himself settled in, but overall Derek is... content. The sleeping beast, with Stiles smack in the middle of the wolf den.
He rubs his cheek a little absently against Stiles'-- not enough to leave behind stubble burn, but enough to show some idle affection. ]
You're something, all right. [ It's quietly murmured, but he's obviously amused if the crooked smile on his face says anything. ]
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And then everything had changed, ripped out from beneath his feet.
He turns his head, lips brushing across Stiles' temple almost absently as his own gloved hand shifts so he can lace their fingers together. With a return squeeze, he reassure him that he's fine-- just in need of recharging. ] How much have you had to drink?
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Waving two fingers at Scott in a be right back motion, he turns towards him and presses a soft, affectionate, and probably not really fake kiss to his mouth. ] Why, can I introduce you to the alllcohol?
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Bringing his hand up, Derek touches his face gently, thumbing at his jaw as he returns the gentle kiss. A smile breaks his expression, honest but hidden between them as he laughs softly. ] If you want me to drink everyone at the party under the table.
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[ And using that hold, he leads him over to the table anyway, fishing out a beer from an ice bucket for them both. It's a thinly veiled way to steer him away from the crowd, and he continues to lead Derek on a winding path through the party until he finds the perfect spot he'd scoped out earlier; a large, comfortable armchair, within chatting range for most of the people but still tucked away.
He makes a little shooing motion for him to sit, holding the beer out of the way until then. So got this. ]
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And it's easy to tell what he's doing, it's so thinly veiled, but he doesn't call him out on it and instead simply lets him make a path for them. It's a relief that Stiles knows exactly what he needs right now, even if it's something so simple as just recharging his metaphorical batteries so he doesn't wind up beating someone over the head with a decoration or something.
A small chuff escapes him, but he still obeys the motion, going to sit. ]
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Once Derek sits, Stiles joins him, folding up his long limbs and settling on his lap, feet dangling, and cracks open his beer, then passes the other one to Derek. He doesn't have to say anything--he's just gotten to the point where he knows, can read Derek like a freakin' book. Which, all things considered, is a huge improvement on their relationship from when they first met.
Taking a drink, he leans in to speak in his ear, tone slightly teasing. ] The night will take a load off every now and then.
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Letting Stiles get settled, Derek makes himself comfortable, folding one leg so that his ankle rests beneath his knee. Compared to the start of their relationship, it's incredibly easy for him to just curl up with him in the chair, take the proffered beer while reaching to pull his cowl back. It leaves his hair fluffy, looking more like Stiles' hairstyle than his own, a bird's nest rather than something more intentional.
Once his own beer is opened, face revealed again, he gently slips his arm around Stiles and take a drink. Behind the bottle, though, a quiet smile curls at his mouth. ] Only because you were so insistent.
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Dude, you think that was insistent? You clearly are not well acquainted with me and insistent. Me and insistent are besties. [ He takes a sip of his own drink with his free hand, and settles comfortably, glancing out at the party. ]
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A faint chuckle leaves him, and he squeezes his fingers against his hip where his hand has settled. ] I'm very acquainted with your insistent side, believe me. I've encountered it in its many stages, very often.
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Good, I wouldn't want you to be unprepared for that. I'm a force to be reckoned with. [ Which is true in so many senses of the word. ]
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He rubs his cheek a little absently against Stiles'-- not enough to leave behind stubble burn, but enough to show some idle affection. ]
You're something, all right. [ It's quietly murmured, but he's obviously amused if the crooked smile on his face says anything. ]