[ There's a soft, tired laugh at Stiles' protest, and Derek shifts to slip both arms around Stiles as he wiggles closer. His broad hands spread wide across his back, instinctively finding the span of dots that leave absent constellations everywhere. ]
I can, and you know it.
[ He presses a kiss to the top of his head, burying his nose into his dark hair and digging his fingers a little into sore muscles. Their mutual stress had been grating-- Stiles knew him like the back of his hand, and he could feel Stiles' with every sense at his disposal-- so he can understand his reluctance this morning.
No wolf powers before seven. [That's more or less moaned out as Derek maneuvers him around, and he tucks his face into his chest like he's hiding from the light as Derek's hands find the student's knot in his lower back; however, when he lifts his head, he meets him with a bleary, brown eyed stare. Derek's magic fingers come with the added benefit of werewolf healing powers, and okay, he doesn't ever make it obvious that he's taking Stiles' pain away, but he's pretty sure that's exactly what's going on, and he just lets him have it. Because seriously, nothing to complain about.
Lazily, he shifts across and steals a half asleep kiss, exhaling with some sort of resolve. ]
It's past seven on the east coast. [ As the alarm goes off again, Derek ignores it despite how it grates on his hearing, eyes bright and clear and colorless in response to bleary brown that rise to them. Cocking an eyebrow as he continues to work his fingertips into hard knots, the corner of his mouth quirks up crookedly, even as he feels a soreness slipping up his arms. There's nothing subtle about him taking the ache and pain away, and it'll leave eventually from his end.
Tipping his chin, he returns the kiss, far more awake. Years of conditioning left him quick to wake up, capable of adapting to a lack of sleep. ]
We live in California, smartass. [ Groaning dramatically, he starts to wriggle against him, pushing out of his arms and literally rolling over to get off of the bed. It's actually an entire process, considering he lays spreadeagle on the covers before slowly lifting himself up to his feet; he smacks the alarm when he gets up, stretching and yawning obnoxiously.
He's still not much of a morning person, but this part is routine. Shuffling over to the dresser he pulls out shorts and a tank top, going through the motions of waking up as slow as anything. It's early.]
I didn't notice. [ The moment that Stiles is off him-- though it would've been easy to simply get up and let Stiles drop off his chest-- Derek shifts to slide out of the covers and get to his feet. Arms stretching above his head, he rolls his shoulders and arches his spine in, back cracking. That done, he drops his arms and rolls his head, neck cracking afterwards as he tries to loosen his body up a little.
A restless night tends to add more stiffness to his movements, but he's sure he'll be fine once they get moving.
Coming around behind Stiles at the dresser, he hooks his chin over his shoulder and slips his arms around him so he can open another drawer to go through, a vibration rising in his chest to become an audible rumble against his back. ]
But as he comes behind him to get to the dresser, Stiles leans back into his chest, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again. It's comfortable and blissful, even if he's standing there with a tanktop around his neck like a scarf because he was interrupted in putting it on.
Despite everything that's going on, it's quiet, a daily part of their routine that no one dares to interrupt, and he wouldn't trade it for a couple extra hours of sleep. Rolling his head just a little, he presses his nose against Derek's cheek, nuzzling a little and humming in response.]
Amused by the tank-scarf, Derek becomes steady and immovable, taking Stiles' weight in case he decides to lean completely against him. His attention is largely on going through his clothes to find a pair of pants to go running in, but the rumble never stops as he does, and he winds up hooking one arm around his waist for a moment.
The calm in the midst of the storm, essentially, is what this moment is. Despite the tension brought on by another body-- one directly in their territory lines-- they have to try for normalcy, both to keep up appearances and to maintain their sanity.
Stiles does wonders as an anchor for that.
Nosing back at him, he bows his head down a little to press a kiss against his shoulder before pulling back to let him finish with his clothes. ]
[ Ah, yes. This is a pleasant reminder as for why Stiles is wanting to get back in bed, but that's okay. The arm on his waist is heavy and warm, and he nearly closes his eyes again if not for the actual point of actually trying to get up for the day.
Letting out a grumble that's probably a little more dramatic than anything, he presses his hand to Derek's cheek, pushing him off playfully and actually bothering to pull his shirt over his head. From there it's bleary eyed stumbling into the bathroom for a toothbrush and lazy hairstyling ("fuck it, I'm probably going to die so I might as well not try") while Derek (who is probably partly insane) goes off to do...crunches or push ups or something exceedingly manly.
Either way, he stares at his reflection with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, then trods out of the bathroom in his socks.]
[ Chuckling with the push to his face, Derek unwinds his arm from around Stiles' waist and lets him go get dressed and ready. Likewise, he goes about the motions, pulling on his workout pants for the day and locating his shoes for jogging. Might as well put them on while Stiles is in the bathroom, turning his hair into an even greater nest.
By the time he comes out, the alpha is, in fact, doing push ups that are exceedingly manly at the foot of the bed. He doesn't even slow as Stiles returns to the bedroom, and instead shifts just enough that he can do a count of them one-handed.
[ Stiles kicks the bathroom door shut behind him and takes a minute to stare at Derek.
God, he's so weird.
(Whatever, it's kind of awesome.) He disappears out of the room for a minute and comes back with what's probably a granola bar or something, then plops down in front of Derek, chewing on it sleepily and very much taking in an appreciative morning view. You're kind of lucky he didn't decide to just sit on your back. Not this morning.]
[ They both know that Stiles enjoys it, so Derek doesn't even respond to the stare. Just keeps working, even as he disappears. He can track his path through the house, so he knows where he's going and what he's probably going to wind up bringing back.
A quiet chuff leaves him as Stiles just takes a seat in front of him, rather than on him, but it's always one or the other with him. So instead of commenting on his choice of seating, he moves so he can switch hands. ]
[ It still kind of blows his mind he can just talk and do one handed pushups like that. Stiles can do his fair share of pushups but damn. Wiggling out of a sitting position, he lays down on his stomach and faces across from him, propped up on his elbows and chewing thoughtfully. ]
Gonna go look into Dad's police records on the murder site and try to get to know Dean instead of Anita, considering he was at the site last night and their stories were a little mixed up. [ He wrinkles his nose at that, crumpling up the wrapper. There was something weird going on there.] And maybe eat or something. [ Hand wave.] You?
[ Slowing to a stop, supported on the one hand and on level with Stiles where he's opted to stretch out across from him, he seems to consider the information and eventual question for a moment. Once he seems to have everything sorted in the order he wants it in, Derek then resumes his pre-jog workout without batting an eye. ]
They didn't expect us to be there, so if their stories got a little jumbled it wouldn't have been a problem. [ He mimics the hand wave with his free hand. ] I'm going to get the pack together and put them all on patrol. [ A pause. ] Pick someone in the pack you'd want with you, if you went back to the site.
[ His mind is already putting together the territory, what they'd have to cover. Who, in what pairs, would get the most ground covered in which terrains. In town, they should still be fine on their own, but he has never backed down from issuing the order of stay in pairs when threats enter Beacon Hills. ]
It's my turn with the emergency phone, anyway. [ One of Stiles' smarter ideas after the alpha pack thing had been a cellphone--one of those cheap pay per use ones--that got passed around to people on patrol. It had everyone's numbers programmed into speed dial, so if someone got in trouble, all they had to do was hit a number. Much more conspicuous than howling.
He'll probably take Scott with him; that's a no brainer. He watches Derek go up and down absentmindedly, chewing on his lip, a telltale sign of thought. ] It wasn't a little jumbled, it was a lot jumbled. Like mixed around in a martini shaker and thrown out jumbled. Whatever it is I'm going to have to get in there and figure things out. [ Ah yes snooping. His favorite. ]
Get it before you head to the station. [ It's just a simple reminder, one he's sure will pop up somewhere around the time of the station if Stiles gets lost in his thoughts. But still, Derek's fairly proud of and pleased with him for the idea of the emergency phone. All of their phones, likewise, had set it as a single-number speed dial, and they had the number memorized in case they didn't have their phones.
There were many reasons why Stiles was the second, and the idea proved one of them. ]
Try not to get caught in the blender. [ Scott with Stiles. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac for the areas that need the most coverage. Jackson and Lydia. Allison and Danny. He knows it's hypocritical of him to not select someone to go with him, but right now it's not an option in his mind. ]
Aye aye, cap'n. [ Finally hopping to his feet, he gets up and pulls the phone out of the wall. Stiles' Two Rules: 1.) Always keep the phone on you. Put it in your underwear if you have to. 2.) Always keep the phone charged. Make fun of his lists all you want but they are damn good lists, and they've saved tails (literally) more than once since the phone was initiated into pack life. Tucking it in the pocket of his running pants, he gives it a tell tale pat, leaning against the bedframe and drawling. ]
[ Crinkling his nose at him, he lowers his free hand again to push himself up enough to get his feet under him in a smooth motion. He does more reps than this in one sitting, usually, but they have business to take care of. He nods his approval at the pat, before he reaches out to hook his fingers in the waistband of Stiles' pants. ]
Of course. [ He tugs a little to pull him closer, bumping his forehead into his with a faint chuff in response to the nickname. ] Have to make sure the housewives don't come out to try and lure you into their houses.
[ Making a "whoa" noise the minute he gets tugged--because despite six months of marriage and years and years of actually knowing each other, Stiles still gets startled by the littlest, stupidest things--he lifts his hands anyway and rests them on Derek's shoulders, leaning in for a quick little kiss and responding with a derisive snort.]
Dude, it's you I worry about. Mrs. Johnson from down the street literally watches out of the window every time we go for a run like she wants to lick you.
[ But no one gets to do that except Stiles so ha.]
[ Affectionately amused by the whoa, Derek snorts and returns the kiss as his hand slides up from his waistband and settles at his waist for a brief moment. Marriage and familiarity don't really dampen the newness of this, or the way that he simply enjoys that he can do it. That they both do it. Before he pulls away completely, he nudges his nose into Stiles' with a soft rumble. ]
That's too bad, because that's definitely not happening any time soon.
I know right! It's awesome. [ Hm, maybe it could be one of those not going for a run mornings. Stiles seriously doubts it, especially because they both need it but you know. It's kind of worth a shot.
And you know what he's not going to complain for a chance to drag his hands down Derek's freakin' washboard of a stomach.] They can look but they can't touch and it's like the greatest thing ever. [ He sounds gleeful. ]
[ Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the grin and his absolute glee that Stiles exhibits, he cocks his head down at him before his eyes drop down to where his hands are. There's a brief moment where he considers it, wonders if maybe they don't really need to go running this morning. They could just stay in bed for the usual durations of their jogs, try to work off energy there.
But. ]
I think what you enjoy most is the fact you can flaunt me around town like that. [ He slips his hands up to take Stiles', thumbs pressed into his palms. ] C'mon, it's time for walkies.
Damn it. [ Well, it was worth a try. He'd halfway moved towards kneeling down but stopped the minute Derek's hands came over his, rolling his eyes good naturedly as he pulls away, his other hand lingering around Derek's.
It would have been a better use of time though. Just saying. ]
Yeah yeah, walkies. [Mockingly.] Need me to grab your leash? [...what, being married hasn't stopped him from being a dick. ]
[ It would be, but he'd be even less inclined to actually do work if they succumbed to the very tempting offer. Guiding him towards the door with the hands that remain together, he uses his other hand to smack him on the ass without a care in the world. ]
Save the leash for later. [ Dryly. Nothing is going to stop Derek from answering in kind. ]
Jesus-- [ Yep. He definitely jumps about a foot in the air at that and shoots him a look. Some people make it incredibly difficult to get out of the door in the morning. Derek is one of them. Using their connected hands, he steps through the doorframe first and tugs Derek towards him, other hand curled around the waistband of his pants, and grins, drawling right back. ]
Don't tempt me. [ Before pushing just a little closer and giving him a chaste smooch on the mouth. Jerk. ]
[ Not at all bothered by a sudden Stiles in his space, he smiles against the smooch as he returns it, dialing back from the almost-fangy grin that was initially on his face. He brings his hand up to cup the side of his face, thumb tracing the familiar constellation of moles and freckles beneath it before he gives a little nudge. ]
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I can, and you know it.
[ He presses a kiss to the top of his head, burying his nose into his dark hair and digging his fingers a little into sore muscles. Their mutual stress had been grating-- Stiles knew him like the back of his hand, and he could feel Stiles' with every sense at his disposal-- so he can understand his reluctance this morning.
But routine is routine. ]
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Lazily, he shifts across and steals a half asleep kiss, exhaling with some sort of resolve. ]
Mornin'.
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Tipping his chin, he returns the kiss, far more awake. Years of conditioning left him quick to wake up, capable of adapting to a lack of sleep. ]
Morning.
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He's still not much of a morning person, but this part is routine. Shuffling over to the dresser he pulls out shorts and a tank top, going through the motions of waking up as slow as anything. It's early.]
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A restless night tends to add more stiffness to his movements, but he's sure he'll be fine once they get moving.
Coming around behind Stiles at the dresser, he hooks his chin over his shoulder and slips his arms around him so he can open another drawer to go through, a vibration rising in his chest to become an audible rumble against his back. ]
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But as he comes behind him to get to the dresser, Stiles leans back into his chest, tilting his head back and closing his eyes again. It's comfortable and blissful, even if he's standing there with a tanktop around his neck like a scarf because he was interrupted in putting it on.
Despite everything that's going on, it's quiet, a daily part of their routine that no one dares to interrupt, and he wouldn't trade it for a couple extra hours of sleep. Rolling his head just a little, he presses his nose against Derek's cheek, nuzzling a little and humming in response.]
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Amused by the tank-scarf, Derek becomes steady and immovable, taking Stiles' weight in case he decides to lean completely against him. His attention is largely on going through his clothes to find a pair of pants to go running in, but the rumble never stops as he does, and he winds up hooking one arm around his waist for a moment.
The calm in the midst of the storm, essentially, is what this moment is. Despite the tension brought on by another body-- one directly in their territory lines-- they have to try for normalcy, both to keep up appearances and to maintain their sanity.
Stiles does wonders as an anchor for that.
Nosing back at him, he bows his head down a little to press a kiss against his shoulder before pulling back to let him finish with his clothes. ]
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Letting out a grumble that's probably a little more dramatic than anything, he presses his hand to Derek's cheek, pushing him off playfully and actually bothering to pull his shirt over his head. From there it's bleary eyed stumbling into the bathroom for a toothbrush and lazy hairstyling ("fuck it, I'm probably going to die so I might as well not try") while Derek (who is probably partly insane) goes off to do...crunches or push ups or something exceedingly manly.
Either way, he stares at his reflection with the toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, then trods out of the bathroom in his socks.]
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By the time he comes out, the alpha is, in fact, doing push ups that are exceedingly manly at the foot of the bed. He doesn't even slow as Stiles returns to the bedroom, and instead shifts just enough that he can do a count of them one-handed.
Might as well get the whole workout in. ]
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God, he's so weird.
(Whatever, it's kind of awesome.) He disappears out of the room for a minute and comes back with what's probably a granola bar or something, then plops down in front of Derek, chewing on it sleepily and very much taking in an appreciative morning view. You're kind of lucky he didn't decide to just sit on your back.
Not this morning.]no subject
A quiet chuff leaves him as Stiles just takes a seat in front of him, rather than on him, but it's always one or the other with him. So instead of commenting on his choice of seating, he moves so he can switch hands. ]
Plans for the day?
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Gonna go look into Dad's police records on the murder site and try to get to know Dean instead of Anita, considering he was at the site last night and their stories were a little mixed up. [ He wrinkles his nose at that, crumpling up the wrapper. There was something weird going on there.] And maybe eat or something. [ Hand wave.] You?
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They didn't expect us to be there, so if their stories got a little jumbled it wouldn't have been a problem. [ He mimics the hand wave with his free hand. ] I'm going to get the pack together and put them all on patrol. [ A pause. ] Pick someone in the pack you'd want with you, if you went back to the site.
[ His mind is already putting together the territory, what they'd have to cover. Who, in what pairs, would get the most ground covered in which terrains. In town, they should still be fine on their own, but he has never backed down from issuing the order of stay in pairs when threats enter Beacon Hills. ]
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He'll probably take Scott with him; that's a no brainer. He watches Derek go up and down absentmindedly, chewing on his lip, a telltale sign of thought. ] It wasn't a little jumbled, it was a lot jumbled. Like mixed around in a martini shaker and thrown out jumbled. Whatever it is I'm going to have to get in there and figure things out. [ Ah yes snooping. His favorite. ]
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There were many reasons why Stiles was the second, and the idea proved one of them. ]
Try not to get caught in the blender. [ Scott with Stiles. Erica, Boyd, and Isaac for the areas that need the most coverage. Jackson and Lydia. Allison and Danny. He knows it's hypocritical of him to not select someone to go with him, but right now it's not an option in his mind. ]
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I'll do my best. Coming, G.I Alpha?
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Of course. [ He tugs a little to pull him closer, bumping his forehead into his with a faint chuff in response to the nickname. ] Have to make sure the housewives don't come out to try and lure you into their houses.
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Dude, it's you I worry about. Mrs. Johnson from down the street literally watches out of the window every time we go for a run like she wants to lick you.
[ But no one gets to do that except Stiles so ha.]
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That's too bad, because that's definitely not happening any time soon.
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I know right! It's awesome. [ Hm, maybe it could be one of those not going for a run mornings. Stiles seriously doubts it, especially because they both need it but you know. It's kind of worth a shot.
And you know what he's not going to complain for a chance to drag his hands down Derek's freakin' washboard of a stomach.] They can look but they can't touch and it's like the greatest thing ever. [ He sounds gleeful. ]
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But. ]
I think what you enjoy most is the fact you can flaunt me around town like that. [ He slips his hands up to take Stiles', thumbs pressed into his palms. ] C'mon, it's time for walkies.
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It would have been a better use of time though. Just saying. ]
Yeah yeah, walkies. [Mockingly.] Need me to grab your leash? [...what, being married hasn't stopped him from being a dick. ]
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Save the leash for later. [ Dryly. Nothing is going to stop Derek from answering in kind. ]
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Don't tempt me. [ Before pushing just a little closer and giving him a chaste smooch on the mouth. Jerk. ]
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[ Not at all bothered by a sudden Stiles in his space, he smiles against the smooch as he returns it, dialing back from the almost-fangy grin that was initially on his face. He brings his hand up to cup the side of his face, thumb tracing the familiar constellation of moles and freckles beneath it before he gives a little nudge. ]
Out.
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