No. [ The answer is immediate, honest. Stiles is smart, of course he'd think of the fights that Derek had been forced into in his "prestigious" history. Some of them had been innocent, thrown in much like Erica had, but they were few and far between. Good, innocent people rarely survived the ring, and if they did? That innocence was quickly ripped free of them.
While tension still remains in his shoulders, both from his healing and from the topic, some of it eases away with the touch against his tattoo. If he could just stay there with Stiles, he would be all the more grateful for it. ]
Sometimes, when an alpha gives the bite, it does not take. No matter how healthy the human is, how strong their fight, their body will begin to reject the bite. Reject itself. It is a greater mercy to end their suffering than let them die from it.
[ He's silent for a second, fingers still tracing over the triskele. Someone tried to give someone else the bite, and--
It clicks. It clicks in the way that makes his hands stop moving over the triskele for a second, and he sucks in a breath, pulling back just a little to look at him. There's this moment of silence, something unreadable in Stiles' dark brown eyes, but it breaks when he murmurs-- ] Oh, Derek.
[ And shifts back forward again, pulling him back into the same position, squeezing just a little tighter. Stiles knows--he could only imagine the kind of pain that came from that, but he can feel it, understands because he was the only one there when his mother died, when she got sick because of him. It had been his fault. He shakes his head, just minutely, and squeezes just a tiny bit tighter. ]
[ At first, Derek doesn't look at him when he pulls back. But slowly, he lifts his clear green eyes, looking up from under his brow at Stiles in a pained silence. Because he didn't have to say anything, didn't have to reveal a thing, but something about his lord compels him to speak. To tell him about why his eyes are the color that they are every time they flash to life.
For as much as he doesn't think he deserves this-- deserves Stiles-- he still tucks his face against him when he's drawn in again, a faintly shuddery breath leaving him. His fingers curl tighter against him, careful not to hurt but holding himself to his newfound anchor. ]
We had been younger than you are now-- and I had made the foolish mistake of listening to my uncle, who told me there was no way we could stay with one another if she did not take the bite.
Flaws came on while I was writing this tag and now I'm sad.
[ His heart wrenches and Stiles looks down at him for a second, meeting his gaze and curling over him, like he could be a human shield to block that away. It hurts in a way that he understands, in a way that resonates so deeply with Stiles that he has to suck in a shuddery breath of his own. He doesn't want to think about it, doesn't want to think about listening to his uncle, about the girl. He'd read Derek's family history a thousand times, quiet research he kept to himself--he'd been engaged, once, betrothed to a girl by the name of Paige, but she'd passed away.
It made since how, now.
What do you even say to that? How does he even begin to tell him he understands. Stiles holds his breath for a second as he chooses his words, only pulling away from the embrace to take his face in his hands again, thumbing at the stubble on his cheeks. ] Surely you saved her pain, by--by doing what you did. That is all I've ever known you to do, take burdens when it feels like no one else can shoulder them, be they mine, or Erica's, or hers, too, it seems.
[ He replicates the gesture from before, when Derek was a wolf--leaning forward, he presses his forehead to his. ] And I can promise you, I would not be so influenced by someone whose intentions were obviously not well placed.
[ That's a little joke, and his mouth quirks in a tiny smile. It implies a lot more than it means, though--that he had loved Paige, and maybe Stiles loves him that much, if not more, too. ] That is, should that situation ever come up. I'm sure you know I like to be prepared.
[ If Stiles didn't know about Paige already-- at least the general information, their engagement and her death-- Derek would honestly be shocked. He knows better than to think that Stiles hasn't delved into his records, into what remains of the Hale family as they've been written down. Because his young lord has an insatiable thirst for knowledge, regardless of what the subject is; of course he'd look into the history of his purchase.
Rather than drawing away from his touch when he takes his face in his hands, Derek simply looks up at him, expression quiet as he tries to push down everything again. It's been a long time since he's shared this with anyone, and the hurt is still fresh a decade later, because a Hale never passively cares about anyone no matter how hard they try. He grieves still for Paige, for his mother and father, his brother, aunts and uncles and cousins, for his grandmother whose pelt was white as snow in old age. He grieves now for Boyd, and for a time nearly thought he would grieve for Erica.
Looking up at Stiles where he's perched on his lap, holding his face and pressed close to him, he hopes he never has to grieve for him.
Slowly, he slides his hands up from where they've settled, following the path smooth skin has set for him until he can frame Stiles' neck. He can feel his pulse thrumming under his skin, and he could so very easily rip it free from him. But he doesn't want another loved one's blood on his hands, not again. He'd rather drive his claws into his own heart than hurt Stiles, and by this point? He's fairly certain that Stiles knows it, especially with his words. ] I would never think to give you the bite, Stiles. Not unless there were no other choice, where it could save your life. You have no need for it, my clever human.
[ there's something so intense about this moment, that stiles almost wants to shy away from it. he's never been good with his feelings, and he thinks absently of the fact that he's unmarried, that finding a match with someone of derek's standing would be scandalous to say the least.
but he doesn't care. he'll take the scandal, if it means derek will soften when he looks at him, like he is right now, letting down every wall that he's so tirelessly built up around him. stiles knows what happened, he knows everything, from paige to kate to jennifer, and it makes him angry, makes him proud for how derek has survived to this day. but stiles isn't going to make him survive anymore--if he can provide comfort and warmth and shelter, provide a place for them to argue in safety that won't end in death, offer him a bed to sleep in and food for his stomach, take care of his pack, he will.
his eyes flutter as derek's hands come to his neck, and stiles' mouth curves into a small smile, as he lifts a hand and covers derek's hand with his. ] Well, I will try to avoid life or death situations in the future then, shan't I.
[ his eyes flick down and he stares at his wounds, slowly closing, and murmurs: ] This is amazing.
They will find you, regardless. You have a knack for trouble, I find. [ Thumbing gently at Stiles' pulse as his hand covers his, he shakes his head a little. But that's what Derek is for, isn't it? At first, maybe not, but it's the job that he's taken on for himself. The promise he's making for himself, for Stiles both. After losing Paige, and then his family not long afterwards, after losing Boyd and so very many people he's met in the fights, he's not losing anyone else.
Especially not Stiles, who he's grown to love over the past year. It's a terrifying thought, but it's no less true for as difficult as it is for him to address his feelings. Bowing his head forward, he gently brushes his nose against the upturn of Stiles', looking down at his injuries with him in a moment of quiet. They heal slower than normal, but they still heal-- and that's a good sign.
Breathing out, he draws his hands away, touching his fingers to the biggest wound. ] They will, ideally, be scarring by tomorrow.
It's a good thing I have a warrior to protect me, then. [ His smile's soft as he allows derek to thumb at his pulse, lean in towards him. for a second, he closes his eyes and rubs his nose against his in a soft nuzzle, just long enough, and then looks down with him.
derek will protect him. derek has always protected him. he has a feeling that his foolish, beautiful survivor would do anything for stiles, and as terrifying as that thought is, he makes a promise to himself to try and stay out of trouble long enough to let him live a happy life. he has a feeling that it's going to be far more difficult than it sounds.
stiles leans backwards a little and brushes skin that's not tender with his thumb, looking it over. it's already getting better, has been since they sat down, and the cleaning seems to have only expedited the process. ] Good. Perhaps we should get you to bed for the night--rest can only help.
A good thing, indeed. [ The nuzzle gives him some small swell of affection in the pit of his chest, something he can't quite fight, because it's such a wolfish action and Stiles just-- does it. It's such a mundane thing to take pleasure in, but he does it regardless, because the human boy that'd purchased him and given him a second life is more than observant. He's seen him pick up behaviors, a pattern that he's created himself in contrast to whatever one Derek has offered him by saving his life over the past year or so.
Decidedly human, he's clever as any fox could be, with a heart belonging to the wolves. Of course his place would be here with him, and he'll fight to keep it that way. Even if it only means a day of peace before weeks of chaos, he will take it. A reprieve from the storm that his life has been.
His hands lower, slowly, until they're settling on Stiles' hips as he leans back. It's half a need to make sure he doesn't splash backwards in his typical gracelessness, but also simply because he can do that now. ] That would require getting up, lordling. [ There's a teasing to his tone, tired as it truly is. ]
it's not late enough for the all nighter porn tag show so this happens instead
[ stiles puffs out a long, vocal sigh, a "hmmmmm" noise as he can easily feel derek's big hands finding his hips. it'd be nice to stay in the bathhouse forever, and a part of stiles fears for what the outside world might bring. here it's safe, protected, and just them alone, with no one allowed to bust in or interrupt. it's anyone's game outside of these four walls, but stiles doesn't think his father'll be too surprised when the former guest's quarters have mysteriously become empty. ] I suppose that would, wouldn't it.
[ tipping forward again, he presses his fingertips to derek's stubble and plants a kiss on him, small but promising, then carefully starts to untangle himself from his lap, ducking back underneath the water to wash the last of the oils from his skin. there's a lot of words in that kiss that he doesn't really need to say, he thinks, and he pops back up smiling, pushing himself out of the water and up onto the marble floor.
which is freezing, and stiles promptly loses any cool points in his ridiculous flail over to where his britches are waiting in hopes of not freezing his ass off. he's still not completely comfortable with this whole nude thing, and now that derek's healed (or healing) it's a little easier to actually pay attention to such these. so derek gets treated to a sight of his butt for half a second instead of his front as he hurries to pull on his pants, then scampers back over to offer his hand. ]
[ For as comfortable as Derek is with his lapful of Stiles, he's not particularly keen towards pruning in the bath. His injuries have been washed out, the grit from rolling through and across the earth gone with the wolfsbane, and he's far more interested in drying off and getting into a bed where he can sleep off the soreness in his body and whatever poison lingers in it. There will be a few new scars, but not as many as there could've been if he didn't have the attentive care of his young scholar.
This place is safe and known, but Stiles is home more than the estate is.
He tips up into the kiss, a soft sound at the back of his throat, something small and content. It's not a noise he ever thought he'd be able to make again, but he takes the meaning of the kiss and the gentle touch and shifts so that he can ensure that all the grime and blood and oils (both from the bath and from the poison) are gone. It's then that he observes Stiles as he gets out of the water, and he barks out a quick laugh as he flails away.
But his attention follows Stiles, and his eyes drop down to his butt without far too much concern. (He has a cluster of spots there, too. Of course he does.) When he starts coming back, though, his eyes lift and he comes forward to take his hand, accepting the help up and out. ]
[ derek's kind of happy noises give stiles an odd joy. even if he's laughing at him, which he definitely is, the teenager isn't really complaining, and he grins a little privately to himself as he turns back around. it's nice, compared to the derek he first brought back. like he's started to heal some.
stiles'll do whatever it takes to expedite that process, simply because his warrior deserves a happy life. if stiles is lucky enough to be the thing that makes him smile, well, that makes his job that much easier.
he rolls his eyes for show though, anyway, and helps derek out of the water, definitely trying hard not to flick his gaze down. ] Sleep, and perhaps a big breakfast tomorrow in the morning. [ a beat. ] The late morning. Afternoon, maybe.
[ At least now the more wolfish sounds that leave him are easily explained. They weren't that uncommon from him before, but now they make sense rather than him just seeming like a man gone feral. (Still not that far off, true, but.) It's a surprise that he even has the heart to feel contentment now, and Stiles is the one to thank for it, honestly.
So it's easy for Derek to let him help get him out of the water, and he gives a small, full-body shudder before he shakes himself off a little. His hair, mostly, as his head shakes a little and fluffs it up into a softer facsimile of his usual style.
He does not take his hand back. ] Afternoon, I think. If ingrained training allows for it, anyways. [ Exhaustion will likely beat it out, though. ]
[ stiles' lips quirk up the moment derek basically shakes himself off, and he can't resist the -- ] Apparently that isn't the only thing ingrained in you, son of Romulus.
[ and he's obviously not complaining, considering; stiles squeezes the hand in his once, gently, carefully starting to pull him out of the bathhouse. he hides his kind of besotted grin down at the ground as he pauses to grab his tunic from where it'd been waiting with his pants, flinging it over his arm to worry about it later. for now, there's sleep, and tending to his warrior for as long as he needs it. ] Afternoon sounds fine with me. The longer I can avoid the senate attendings I have, the better.
If it is effective, then it is effective. [ Stated primly, Derek pretends to be offended as he lets Stiles lead him forward. He has no interest in retrieving his armor right now, and it's not as if anyone will take it considering they know who it belongs to.
No, instead he follows his young lord, fingers slipping between his and keeping that connection between them. Right now, all he wants to do is sleep. Exhaustion has sunken into every single inch of him, and he has every intention of just collapsing the moment he's within sight of a bed. But first, he comes up behind Stiles' shoulder, bowing his head forward to brush his nose behind the teen's ear. ] You cannot avoid them forever, but after such a harrowing day it will not be difficult to sleep for so long.
I commm--completely agree. [ That makes it really hard to walk, Derek. Not in a bad way, of course, but it gives him the shivers when he's practically murmuring in his ear like that, and Stiles' lashes flutter as he tries to keep himself under control. Originally, buying Derek had a certain clause included in the contract, but Stiles just--he just couldn't bring himself to do it, not when he'd heard so much of Derek's past in the ring.
So, despite the fact that his feelings have been realized and reciprocated, those feelings are going to get buried very, very deeply for a little while.
The teenager doesn't even bother trying to hide their clasped hands as he leads Derek through the short walk to his own quarters. It's late enough now that no one's around anyway, save for personal guards, and it's easy for him to sneak into the bedroom, holding the door open for Derek and shutting it gently behind him.
Fanning out his hands, he makes a gesture towards the bed. ] What's mine is yours, Derek. Feel free to get comfortable.
[ He pulls back a bit behind Stiles, huffing out faint amusement but otherwise not commenting. There's also nothing more, as he follows after him in relative silence. They need to collect the beast from the woods, but Derek is far more interested in sleep than the idea of surveying the body of a minotaur that broke and fractured a good number of bones and tried to go after Stiles.
It means he can focus on stiles, on the fact that he's safe now. Yes, they'll be sharing a bed, but nothing is going to come of it. Not unless he's the one to initiate it, and it's not going to happen. Tonight, anyways. Stiles respects him far more than either of his past owners did.
Sneaking after him and into the room, he surveys it in a different light than he has in the past. But then he immediately moves to the bed, and flops forward right onto it. ]
[ stiles snorts out loud when derek flops forward on the bed, and a rush of affection surges up in his chest for his gladiator, his advisor, one of his closest friends. stiles wouldn't have pictured things ending up like this when he first threw his token into the ring, but he's never been happier for it.
shuffling out of his sandals, stiles clicks the door shut and makes his way across the room, settling in a seated position at the head of the bed instead. his hands automatically find derek's hair, carding through soft, still wet strands with care and affection and a certain kind of warmth.
who knows where things will go from here? stiles doesn't, and he doesn't plan on thinking about it too much. betrothals, weddings; none of it matters, not here, not right now. ] That usually means you take half the bed. [ jokingly: ] Were you raised by wolves?
Yes. [ Derek muffles it against Stiles' hip as she shifts closer to him, the moment he feels his fingers sliding through his hair in a familiar motion. He hasn't the foggiest idea of where his sandals have gone off to, and his clothes are loose and damp and he would feel more comfortable shedding them, but he doesn't feel the energy to do it.
Especially not with Stiles touching him, stroking his head the way he is. It's such a soothing gesture to him, has been since he was young, and he immediately relaxes. ]
My mother said I spent more time as a wolf than a boy, when I learned how to shift forms. [ The words come after a moment of silence, like he's respecting the memory before he shares it. And it's easy, to share it. There's no one else he would want to share these memories with, anyways, because there's no one else that matters to him the way that Stiles does.
He shifts, putting his weight into his shoulder so he can look up at him. ]
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no subject
While tension still remains in his shoulders, both from his healing and from the topic, some of it eases away with the touch against his tattoo. If he could just stay there with Stiles, he would be all the more grateful for it. ]
Sometimes, when an alpha gives the bite, it does not take. No matter how healthy the human is, how strong their fight, their body will begin to reject the bite. Reject itself. It is a greater mercy to end their suffering than let them die from it.
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It clicks. It clicks in the way that makes his hands stop moving over the triskele for a second, and he sucks in a breath, pulling back just a little to look at him. There's this moment of silence, something unreadable in Stiles' dark brown eyes, but it breaks when he murmurs-- ] Oh, Derek.
[ And shifts back forward again, pulling him back into the same position, squeezing just a little tighter. Stiles knows--he could only imagine the kind of pain that came from that, but he can feel it, understands because he was the only one there when his mother died, when she got sick because of him. It had been his fault. He shakes his head, just minutely, and squeezes just a tiny bit tighter. ]
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For as much as he doesn't think he deserves this-- deserves Stiles-- he still tucks his face against him when he's drawn in again, a faintly shuddery breath leaving him. His fingers curl tighter against him, careful not to hurt but holding himself to his newfound anchor. ]
We had been younger than you are now-- and I had made the foolish mistake of listening to my uncle, who told me there was no way we could stay with one another if she did not take the bite.
Flaws came on while I was writing this tag and now I'm sad.
It made since how, now.
What do you even say to that? How does he even begin to tell him he understands. Stiles holds his breath for a second as he chooses his words, only pulling away from the embrace to take his face in his hands again, thumbing at the stubble on his cheeks. ] Surely you saved her pain, by--by doing what you did. That is all I've ever known you to do, take burdens when it feels like no one else can shoulder them, be they mine, or Erica's, or hers, too, it seems.
[ He replicates the gesture from before, when Derek was a wolf--leaning forward, he presses his forehead to his. ] And I can promise you, I would not be so influenced by someone whose intentions were obviously not well placed.
[ That's a little joke, and his mouth quirks in a tiny smile. It implies a lot more than it means, though--that he had loved Paige, and maybe Stiles loves him that much, if not more, too. ] That is, should that situation ever come up. I'm sure you know I like to be prepared.
nnnnoooooooo.
Rather than drawing away from his touch when he takes his face in his hands, Derek simply looks up at him, expression quiet as he tries to push down everything again. It's been a long time since he's shared this with anyone, and the hurt is still fresh a decade later, because a Hale never passively cares about anyone no matter how hard they try. He grieves still for Paige, for his mother and father, his brother, aunts and uncles and cousins, for his grandmother whose pelt was white as snow in old age. He grieves now for Boyd, and for a time nearly thought he would grieve for Erica.
Looking up at Stiles where he's perched on his lap, holding his face and pressed close to him, he hopes he never has to grieve for him.
Slowly, he slides his hands up from where they've settled, following the path smooth skin has set for him until he can frame Stiles' neck. He can feel his pulse thrumming under his skin, and he could so very easily rip it free from him. But he doesn't want another loved one's blood on his hands, not again. He'd rather drive his claws into his own heart than hurt Stiles, and by this point? He's fairly certain that Stiles knows it, especially with his words. ] I would never think to give you the bite, Stiles. Not unless there were no other choice, where it could save your life. You have no need for it, my clever human.
no subject
but he doesn't care. he'll take the scandal, if it means derek will soften when he looks at him, like he is right now, letting down every wall that he's so tirelessly built up around him. stiles knows what happened, he knows everything, from paige to kate to jennifer, and it makes him angry, makes him proud for how derek has survived to this day. but stiles isn't going to make him survive anymore--if he can provide comfort and warmth and shelter, provide a place for them to argue in safety that won't end in death, offer him a bed to sleep in and food for his stomach, take care of his pack, he will.
his eyes flutter as derek's hands come to his neck, and stiles' mouth curves into a small smile, as he lifts a hand and covers derek's hand with his. ] Well, I will try to avoid life or death situations in the future then, shan't I.
[ his eyes flick down and he stares at his wounds, slowly closing, and murmurs: ] This is amazing.
no subject
Especially not Stiles, who he's grown to love over the past year. It's a terrifying thought, but it's no less true for as difficult as it is for him to address his feelings. Bowing his head forward, he gently brushes his nose against the upturn of Stiles', looking down at his injuries with him in a moment of quiet. They heal slower than normal, but they still heal-- and that's a good sign.
Breathing out, he draws his hands away, touching his fingers to the biggest wound. ] They will, ideally, be scarring by tomorrow.
my dad is watching gladiator |D
derek will protect him. derek has always protected him. he has a feeling that his foolish, beautiful survivor would do anything for stiles, and as terrifying as that thought is, he makes a promise to himself to try and stay out of trouble long enough to let him live a happy life. he has a feeling that it's going to be far more difficult than it sounds.
stiles leans backwards a little and brushes skin that's not tender with his thumb, looking it over. it's already getting better, has been since they sat down, and the cleaning seems to have only expedited the process. ] Good. Perhaps we should get you to bed for the night--rest can only help.
ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAAAAAAAINED.
Decidedly human, he's clever as any fox could be, with a heart belonging to the wolves. Of course his place would be here with him, and he'll fight to keep it that way. Even if it only means a day of peace before weeks of chaos, he will take it. A reprieve from the storm that his life has been.
His hands lower, slowly, until they're settling on Stiles' hips as he leans back. It's half a need to make sure he doesn't splash backwards in his typical gracelessness, but also simply because he can do that now. ] That would require getting up, lordling. [ There's a teasing to his tone, tired as it truly is. ]
it's not late enough for the all nighter porn tag show so this happens instead
[ tipping forward again, he presses his fingertips to derek's stubble and plants a kiss on him, small but promising, then carefully starts to untangle himself from his lap, ducking back underneath the water to wash the last of the oils from his skin. there's a lot of words in that kiss that he doesn't really need to say, he thinks, and he pops back up smiling, pushing himself out of the water and up onto the marble floor.
which is freezing, and stiles promptly loses any cool points in his ridiculous flail over to where his britches are waiting in hopes of not freezing his ass off. he's still not completely comfortable with this whole nude thing, and now that derek's healed (or healing) it's a little easier to actually pay attention to such these. so derek gets treated to a sight of his butt for half a second instead of his front as he hurries to pull on his pants, then scampers back over to offer his hand. ]
I'm not complaining.
This place is safe and known, but Stiles is home more than the estate is.
He tips up into the kiss, a soft sound at the back of his throat, something small and content. It's not a noise he ever thought he'd be able to make again, but he takes the meaning of the kiss and the gentle touch and shifts so that he can ensure that all the grime and blood and oils (both from the bath and from the poison) are gone. It's then that he observes Stiles as he gets out of the water, and he barks out a quick laugh as he flails away.
But his attention follows Stiles, and his eyes drop down to his butt without far too much concern. (He has a cluster of spots there, too. Of course he does.) When he starts coming back, though, his eyes lift and he comes forward to take his hand, accepting the help up and out. ]
uwu
stiles'll do whatever it takes to expedite that process, simply because his warrior deserves a happy life. if stiles is lucky enough to be the thing that makes him smile, well, that makes his job that much easier.
he rolls his eyes for show though, anyway, and helps derek out of the water, definitely trying hard not to flick his gaze down. ] Sleep, and perhaps a big breakfast tomorrow in the morning. [ a beat. ] The late morning. Afternoon, maybe.
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So it's easy for Derek to let him help get him out of the water, and he gives a small, full-body shudder before he shakes himself off a little. His hair, mostly, as his head shakes a little and fluffs it up into a softer facsimile of his usual style.
He does not take his hand back. ] Afternoon, I think. If ingrained training allows for it, anyways. [ Exhaustion will likely beat it out, though. ]
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[ and he's obviously not complaining, considering; stiles squeezes the hand in his once, gently, carefully starting to pull him out of the bathhouse. he hides his kind of besotted grin down at the ground as he pauses to grab his tunic from where it'd been waiting with his pants, flinging it over his arm to worry about it later. for now, there's sleep, and tending to his warrior for as long as he needs it. ] Afternoon sounds fine with me. The longer I can avoid the senate attendings I have, the better.
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No, instead he follows his young lord, fingers slipping between his and keeping that connection between them. Right now, all he wants to do is sleep. Exhaustion has sunken into every single inch of him, and he has every intention of just collapsing the moment he's within sight of a bed. But first, he comes up behind Stiles' shoulder, bowing his head forward to brush his nose behind the teen's ear. ] You cannot avoid them forever, but after such a harrowing day it will not be difficult to sleep for so long.
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So, despite the fact that his feelings have been realized and reciprocated, those feelings are going to get buried very, very deeply for a little while.
The teenager doesn't even bother trying to hide their clasped hands as he leads Derek through the short walk to his own quarters. It's late enough now that no one's around anyway, save for personal guards, and it's easy for him to sneak into the bedroom, holding the door open for Derek and shutting it gently behind him.
Fanning out his hands, he makes a gesture towards the bed. ] What's mine is yours, Derek. Feel free to get comfortable.
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It means he can focus on stiles, on the fact that he's safe now. Yes, they'll be sharing a bed, but nothing is going to come of it. Not unless he's the one to initiate it, and it's not going to happen. Tonight, anyways. Stiles respects him far more than either of his past owners did.
Sneaking after him and into the room, he surveys it in a different light than he has in the past. But then he immediately moves to the bed, and flops forward right onto it. ]
no subject
shuffling out of his sandals, stiles clicks the door shut and makes his way across the room, settling in a seated position at the head of the bed instead. his hands automatically find derek's hair, carding through soft, still wet strands with care and affection and a certain kind of warmth.
who knows where things will go from here? stiles doesn't, and he doesn't plan on thinking about it too much. betrothals, weddings; none of it matters, not here, not right now. ] That usually means you take half the bed. [ jokingly: ] Were you raised by wolves?
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Especially not with Stiles touching him, stroking his head the way he is. It's such a soothing gesture to him, has been since he was young, and he immediately relaxes. ]
My mother said I spent more time as a wolf than a boy, when I learned how to shift forms. [ The words come after a moment of silence, like he's respecting the memory before he shares it. And it's easy, to share it. There's no one else he would want to share these memories with, anyways, because there's no one else that matters to him the way that Stiles does.
He shifts, putting his weight into his shoulder so he can look up at him. ]