[ Stiles' mouth drops open--Derek is seriously the king of the backhanded compliment, not just an entire land of people--and he snaps it shut only to take the paper when he gets it pushed towards him and scratch out the quotation marks with his quill, because Stiles' real name does not exist as far as he's concerned, then shoves it back towards Derek and points at the paper. ]
Ohh no, you are signing that one, because when this goes off without a hitch and my man Scott--er, the prince, falls ~madly in love~ with Princess Yukimura, I am getting that raise. And it is going to get used to take a vacation. [ And invite you, he wants to say--but since that's not possible, that's obviously a joke. ]
[ To say that Derek isn't delighted by the gobsmacked look on Stiles' face would be an outright lie, but he keeps his reaction more muted than he actually feels. Something small and satisfied settles over him, and he leans back in his seat as he watches Stiles take the paper and his own quill to scratch out the quotations. At every opportunity, he is going to tease him about his embarrassment for his real name.
It makes the stress of everything so much easier to deal with, and he feels a little less exhausted.
A laugh does leave him, low and amused, and he reaches for his quill again. ] Right, that is absolutely how this goes down. [ But still-- ]
I'm glad you believe in me. [ Stiles grins at him, bright and teasing and still sincere, because Derek looked tense and angry when he first walked into the meeting and Stiles likes to consider cheering him up a part of his job.
...so maybe sometimes he takes his job a little too personally. Whatever, no one really needs to know about his stupid, ridiculously unattainable crush. Stiles has Gordon Ramsey taste on a McDonald's budget, basically.
Carefully, he takes the paper and adds, whirling the paper around with a flourish: witnessed by: stiles stilinski in his own messy handwriting. It looks ridiculous beside Derek's politician signature, but he doesn't even care. Stiles smacks his hand against the table and grins at Derek, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket, even tapping it once for emphasis, wiggling his eyebrows. ] Consider this bet made.
I question my sanity every time I do. [ Despite the fact that his tone is dry, there's no heat to his voice, and Derek lets Stiles take the paper so that he can add his own note to it. It's one of the most informal agreements he's ever done, and honestly it helps to ease his nerves a little way. Because he has official business to do, arrangements he needs to finalize, repairs he needs to oversee.
He doesn't want to look at those papers. Barely wants to look at the Yukimura truce, barely wants to do anything. Stiles helps to ease him into it, even as he feels the ache of loss still lingering in him. He should question that, but he decides not to. He'll just enjoy this while he's still allowed to.
Chuffing low at the way Stiles tucks the paper away, he just taps the back of his hand against his knee and looks down at all the paperwork they have to go through. At least it means that their handwriting will mingle more, stark contrasts reflecting their writers and the relationship they have. ] We'll see how it goes.
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Ohh no, you are signing that one, because when this goes off without a hitch and my man Scott--er, the prince, falls ~madly in love~ with Princess Yukimura, I am getting that raise. And it is going to get used to take a vacation. [ And invite you, he wants to say--but since that's not possible, that's obviously a joke. ]
no subject
It makes the stress of everything so much easier to deal with, and he feels a little less exhausted.
A laugh does leave him, low and amused, and he reaches for his quill again. ] Right, that is absolutely how this goes down. [ But still-- ]
no subject
...so maybe sometimes he takes his job a little too personally. Whatever, no one really needs to know about his stupid, ridiculously unattainable crush. Stiles has Gordon Ramsey taste on a McDonald's budget, basically.
Carefully, he takes the paper and adds, whirling the paper around with a flourish: witnessed by: stiles stilinski in his own messy handwriting. It looks ridiculous beside Derek's politician signature, but he doesn't even care. Stiles smacks his hand against the table and grins at Derek, folding the paper and putting it in his breast pocket, even tapping it once for emphasis, wiggling his eyebrows. ] Consider this bet made.
no subject
He doesn't want to look at those papers. Barely wants to look at the Yukimura truce, barely wants to do anything. Stiles helps to ease him into it, even as he feels the ache of loss still lingering in him. He should question that, but he decides not to. He'll just enjoy this while he's still allowed to.
Chuffing low at the way Stiles tucks the paper away, he just taps the back of his hand against his knee and looks down at all the paperwork they have to go through. At least it means that their handwriting will mingle more, stark contrasts reflecting their writers and the relationship they have. ] We'll see how it goes.