[ That was a terrible joke, yeah. But Derek still laughs, abrupt and in that way that clearly says why did you say that. He doesn't need to know what Stiles' thinking to know that his brain has gone off on a completely different tangent, but at least he comes back to him intact from it.
Raising his eyebrows against Stiles', the alpha lets his own lopsided smile widen, straighten a little with the corners of his mouth quirking downward in honesty. Relieved, content, happy, it all suddenly fades in the face of surprise when Stiles flashes his eyes. He's expecting something gold, goldenrod or ochre or almost bronze.
What he gets is red, and whatever he has to say in response is derailed for a moment. When it comes back, he's looking at Stiles oddly, and the joke isn't quite there as it should be. ] You tasted like teenager.
[ Stiles blinks. ] What? Is something wrong with my face?
[ Absently, he does pull away from Derek a little and reach up to touch his own face, feel his nose--he comes away with another line of fresh black goop and mutters ] Oh, ew, disgusting. [ Before wiping his hand off on his hospital sheets. That must have been it. ] How long is this going to go on?
And for the record, taking a bite out of the meat of my shoulder is totally not taste d' Stiles, okay. [ He reaches up and rubs the bitemark, which is still there, waiting to heal while his body's still trying to push out all of the cancer. ] Your palate's just off.
[ Sure, that was it Stiles. Derek watches him, before bringing his hands up to cup his chin in one of them. The other reaches to brush away the rest of the black goop, unfazed by having it on his fingers. But he follows Stiles' lead, brushing it off on his hospital sheets but not quite pulling away from where he's touching the new wolf. ]
A while. Week, at least. [ He scans his face, before his eyes drop down to the bitemark on the meat of his shoulder. It causes his skin to bristle a little, almost like a chill rushes up the back of his neck, and he has to push down a sudden impulse that hits him. (Nevermind that it's hit him before, but he's ignoring that, too.) ]
What would you suggest for taste d' Stiles. [ His tone is dry, but he looks up from under his brow at him, brow raising slowly. ]
Ew, awesome. I'm like a freakin' Exxon oil penguin. [ He sniffles again and lets Derek wipe away at his face, not really complaining at his tactility--something he's more or less used to at this point--even if it does give a chance for his mind to water. All things considered, he's not feeling particularly...obedient, or any different than usual. Even as Derek flickers to look at the bite, he just follows him down instead. The wound's kind of disgusting and he manages a - ] Jesus, ew.
[ Before pulling his face away to let Derek. Yeah. Stick to the wound examining. He does wiggle his eyebrows when Derek looks at him again, though, and grins. ] Probably something that doesn't involve flesh wounds.
Better than Gerard. At least we know that you'll actually stop leaking oil. [ Or so Derek is hoping. He's certain that if his eyes are flashing red, though, that he'll heal just fine and he'll stop oozing black bile once the cancer's out of his system. The wound'll heal when he gets the majority of his sickness out, but for now... well, they should probably clean that and bandage it up. ] We'll get Melissa to come patch you up.
[ Going from his lingering confusion to amusement again, he lets red flare into his eyes. It's not meant to be aggressive or commanding, but... something else entirely. A response to his wiggling eyebrows. ] Noted.
Please don't ever compare me to Gerard ever again. Like ever. [ Shudder. That's a gross though. Scott's mom, however, isn't, and he looks at the intercom beside his bed for a minute, hand creeping over to find the remote for it.
He hesitates on pressing the button when Derek flashes his eyes at him though, and Stiles can't help the affectionate look on his face in return. ] Ooh, terrifying. Totally waiting on you to get a taste of this delicious buffet of teenagedom here. [ He gestures up and down his body, and wipes his nose for emphasis. That was sarcastic. ]
[ Which is also kind of totally a front for how many thoughts that kicked up, and yeah, when Stiles isn't leaking black goop and healing from what's basically his deathbed, he's going to act on that. Probably. Maybe. If he can get his courage up. He's still hesitating over the button, though, like waiting for something to happen. ]
[ Amusement in every line of his face, he tries not to laugh at him in response to his reaction. Not that he can blame him, given how disgusting Gerard is in general, nevermind when he's oozing black everywhere. At least Melissa is an adequate distraction, even as he watches him with red eyes.
The amusement shifts into a return of affection, an interesting contrast to those alpha reds of his. But their eyes aren't always in challenge or aggression, aren't just exclusive to the negatives. He feels such a fierce warmth towards Stiles, which surprises him more and more every day. ]
I'll take a raincheck for when you're better. [ Rising from his seated position, he bows his head in towards Stiles and presses his lips against the top of his head, brief but softer than the first he left before issuing the bite. The red fades from his eyes finally, and he moves to turn towards the door. ]
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Raising his eyebrows against Stiles', the alpha lets his own lopsided smile widen, straighten a little with the corners of his mouth quirking downward in honesty. Relieved, content, happy, it all suddenly fades in the face of surprise when Stiles flashes his eyes. He's expecting something gold, goldenrod or ochre or almost bronze.
What he gets is red, and whatever he has to say in response is derailed for a moment. When it comes back, he's looking at Stiles oddly, and the joke isn't quite there as it should be. ] You tasted like teenager.
no subject
[ Absently, he does pull away from Derek a little and reach up to touch his own face, feel his nose--he comes away with another line of fresh black goop and mutters ] Oh, ew, disgusting. [ Before wiping his hand off on his hospital sheets. That must have been it. ] How long is this going to go on?
And for the record, taking a bite out of the meat of my shoulder is totally not taste d' Stiles, okay. [ He reaches up and rubs the bitemark, which is still there, waiting to heal while his body's still trying to push out all of the cancer. ] Your palate's just off.
no subject
A while. Week, at least. [ He scans his face, before his eyes drop down to the bitemark on the meat of his shoulder. It causes his skin to bristle a little, almost like a chill rushes up the back of his neck, and he has to push down a sudden impulse that hits him. (Nevermind that it's hit him before, but he's ignoring that, too.) ]
What would you suggest for taste d' Stiles. [ His tone is dry, but he looks up from under his brow at him, brow raising slowly. ]
no subject
[ Before pulling his face away to let Derek. Yeah. Stick to the wound examining. He does wiggle his eyebrows when Derek looks at him again, though, and grins. ] Probably something that doesn't involve flesh wounds.
no subject
[ Going from his lingering confusion to amusement again, he lets red flare into his eyes. It's not meant to be aggressive or commanding, but... something else entirely. A response to his wiggling eyebrows. ] Noted.
no subject
He hesitates on pressing the button when Derek flashes his eyes at him though, and Stiles can't help the affectionate look on his face in return. ] Ooh, terrifying. Totally waiting on you to get a taste of this delicious buffet of teenagedom here. [ He gestures up and down his body, and wipes his nose for emphasis. That was sarcastic. ]
[ Which is also kind of totally a front for how many thoughts that kicked up, and yeah, when Stiles isn't leaking black goop and healing from what's basically his deathbed, he's going to act on that. Probably. Maybe. If he can get his courage up. He's still hesitating over the button, though, like waiting for something to happen. ]
no subject
The amusement shifts into a return of affection, an interesting contrast to those alpha reds of his. But their eyes aren't always in challenge or aggression, aren't just exclusive to the negatives. He feels such a fierce warmth towards Stiles, which surprises him more and more every day. ]
I'll take a raincheck for when you're better. [ Rising from his seated position, he bows his head in towards Stiles and presses his lips against the top of his head, brief but softer than the first he left before issuing the bite. The red fades from his eyes finally, and he moves to turn towards the door. ]