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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...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.