Or: a seasonal-themed open post. Want to frolic in the spring flowers? Go to a warm, summery beach? Play in the autumn leaves? Have a snowball fight in the middle of winter? Lo and behold, here is the place to do it.
[ Part of him wants to chastise the self-depreciation that he can detect from a mile away, because it's so familiar to him on a personal level, but he's distracted by the feel of longer fingers slipping between his. Derek is content to weave them together, warm and soft but worn, calloused from lacrosse and books and the recent years of handling weapons, tools, digging through the earth and climbing through trees. This is not a life he would wish on anyone, but he's thankful that Stiles has it, now.
It doesn't last too long, though, because suddenly he's tearing his hands away to grab hold of his face. He's not exactly surprised, but he does let out a soft grunt as his face scrunches, dog-like in response. ]
I bought the house for the pack. [ That's definitely him grousing, but it's to try and cover up what eventually escapes him anyways. ]
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It doesn't last too long, though, because suddenly he's tearing his hands away to grab hold of his face. He's not exactly surprised, but he does let out a soft grunt as his face scrunches, dog-like in response. ]
I bought the house for the pack. [ That's definitely him grousing, but it's to try and cover up what eventually escapes him anyways. ]