Until I get fired. [ He laughs a little and glances down, watching Derek's feet between them. Stiles isn't exactly a killer dancer--he's got some sense of rhythm, but even Lydia had given up on him eventually. So he's watching to make sure the teacher doesn't end up getting schooled. (Even though that's probably going to happen anyway.) Humming the counts softly under his breath, he tries to focus on the dance, not the warmth of Derek's hand on his shoulder, the muscle underneath his own hand, the way their fingers seem to fit together. It's nice and probably not helping matters any.
Stiles has had a lot of time to get to know Derek since his arrival here. He's learned a lot about the prince, that a lot of his bitchy façade is mostly just pretense. It's gotten to the point now where he'll laugh with Stiles, in this way that lights up his whole face and crinkles the corners of his eyes that pretty much dazzles him every rare time Stiles gets to see it. He can't help the lopsided smile on his face, even when Derek's making fun of him, and leads the turn around another circle, giving the hand ensconcing his a squeeze. ] Not everyone can be a wordsmith like you, oh Wolf of Few Words.
You won't get fired, but they'll probably reassign you to someone who will cause less trouble for you. [ Keeping track of the count-- and then Stiles' humming as he starts-- he continues following the motions easily. It gets to the point where Derek thinks he has it figured out, as they turn and move about in the safety of the guardian outside of the celebrations, that he starts to ease his way into less following, more... not leading, but something that has them synchronized, matching. If he plans on schooling the teacher, he doesn't intend to just yet. Not when he's enjoying the closeness, the way they fit.
A quiet snort escapes him at the jab, and he focuses more on the dance than his response for the time being. The music filtering outside is enough to dance by, though he can hear it more clearly than the human he's dancing with, and that's all he knows outside of their private moment. Someone could come outside, and Derek honestly doubts that he'd notice them. He's too caught up in Stiles, the warm spice of his scent in the crisp autumn night, and the brightness of his eyes when he smiles. ] If only. Then this would be all over much faster.
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Stiles has had a lot of time to get to know Derek since his arrival here. He's learned a lot about the prince, that a lot of his bitchy façade is mostly just pretense. It's gotten to the point now where he'll laugh with Stiles, in this way that lights up his whole face and crinkles the corners of his eyes that pretty much dazzles him every rare time Stiles gets to see it. He can't help the lopsided smile on his face, even when Derek's making fun of him, and leads the turn around another circle, giving the hand ensconcing his a squeeze. ] Not everyone can be a wordsmith like you, oh Wolf of Few Words.
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A quiet snort escapes him at the jab, and he focuses more on the dance than his response for the time being. The music filtering outside is enough to dance by, though he can hear it more clearly than the human he's dancing with, and that's all he knows outside of their private moment. Someone could come outside, and Derek honestly doubts that he'd notice them. He's too caught up in Stiles, the warm spice of his scent in the crisp autumn night, and the brightness of his eyes when he smiles. ] If only. Then this would be all over much faster.