headlong 68/?
Dec. 30th, 2011 04:02 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
januarylightThe next morning Stiles wakes to an empty bed. He can hear Derek moving around outside, so he stays where he is and stretches lazily.
Everything is kind of aching; he doesn’t really want to get up, but he doesn’t want Derek to come back in and see him struggling, either. Not that he’s going to, but – whatever, he just doesn’t want Derek thinking anything. Last night Derek had been a little weird about it after, touching him a lot. He’d said he was just checking to make sure Stiles was okay, but Stiles can’t really tell the difference between touching and touching, so the whole thing had just led to more touching, which is probably the cause of a fair number of his twinges now.
He doesn’t need Derek touching him right now. Okay, he wouldn’t mind, but he doesn’t really have the time and anyway, he feels completely thrown by the whole thing, every echo in his body a distraction, a reminder that he isn’t sure he wants to feel.
He’s unsteady on his feet when he first stands, but he manages to find a pair of boxers close to hand and he’s fine by the time he makes it out the door. Derek is grilling something. He takes a second to look Stiles over before he smiles. It’s still early, which is good, because Stiles is in desperate need of a shower. Derek must be too, but not as much as Stiles is. Nobody could possibly be as filthy as he is right now. He wanders over to Derek, drawn by the smile, but he stops before he gets there, uncertain.
“Hey,” he says, checking out the food. Derek doesn’t usually do meat in the mornings.
“Morning,” Derek says. “Toast?”
“Uh—“ Stiles says. “No, this is fine.”
Derek throws a couple pieces on anyway, and Stiles is actually hoping one of them is for him. He doesn’t want to ask Derek, though. The bacon is sizzling, but Derek leaves it, stepping close to Stiles and kissing him, running his hands down his arms in another check. It makes Stiles feel more uncomfortable in the light of day, so Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s waist, steps closer to get away from it. It maybe isn’t the smartest play – Derek just loops his arms around Stiles’ hips, tongue sliding deeper as Stiles tilts his head all the way back, so near – but it makes Stiles feel less helpless.
Derek pulls away when the bacon starts to spit, quickly finishing up and throwing everything onto the waiting plates. There’s a lot of stuff. Derek puts both pieces of toast on his own plate, but Stiles grabs one, grinning, and Derek lets him.
“You going to class with Jackson today?” Derek asks.
“If he comes over this morning,” Stiles says through his waffle. “Otherwise I’ll just see him there.”
“Do you like sharing classes with him?”
Stiles shrugs. “I guess. It’s nice to know somebody there. It makes lunch easier too.”
“Are you making friends with other people in the class?”
“Not really,” Stiles says. “But it’s early days, right? I will.”
“I know,” Derek says. Stiles thinks he sounds disapproving.
“So do you not want me to have other friends?” he asks awkwardly, hoping the answer isn’t going to be in the affirmative because things have actually been going surprisingly well, he thought, and he doesn’t want them to go back to fighting. They just stopped.
“I do want you to have other friends,” Derek says, which is good but he puts down his fork, which seems like a bad sign. “I just want to know about it.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, considering. “So are you going to start stalking me now that we’re having sex?”
“If you want to see it that way,” Derek says, annoyed. “I need to know who you’re with.” Stiles opens his mouth, but Derek continues, “I already know when you are. I can smell every person who touches you. To the rest of the pack you’d just smell like me right now, but I can still smell Lydia and Stacey on you from last night. I can smell whoever touched your hand before you came into the bar and whoever grabbed your arm earlier in the day. Who were they?”
“Are you serious?” Stiles asks, but he knows Derek is.
“If we were more committed I wouldn’t need to know, but we aren’t and I do.”
“Uh,” Stiles says, “do you want to be more committed?”
“No,” Derek says shortly, “I want you to answer me.”
Everything is kind of aching; he doesn’t really want to get up, but he doesn’t want Derek to come back in and see him struggling, either. Not that he’s going to, but – whatever, he just doesn’t want Derek thinking anything. Last night Derek had been a little weird about it after, touching him a lot. He’d said he was just checking to make sure Stiles was okay, but Stiles can’t really tell the difference between touching and touching, so the whole thing had just led to more touching, which is probably the cause of a fair number of his twinges now.
He doesn’t need Derek touching him right now. Okay, he wouldn’t mind, but he doesn’t really have the time and anyway, he feels completely thrown by the whole thing, every echo in his body a distraction, a reminder that he isn’t sure he wants to feel.
He’s unsteady on his feet when he first stands, but he manages to find a pair of boxers close to hand and he’s fine by the time he makes it out the door. Derek is grilling something. He takes a second to look Stiles over before he smiles. It’s still early, which is good, because Stiles is in desperate need of a shower. Derek must be too, but not as much as Stiles is. Nobody could possibly be as filthy as he is right now. He wanders over to Derek, drawn by the smile, but he stops before he gets there, uncertain.
“Hey,” he says, checking out the food. Derek doesn’t usually do meat in the mornings.
“Morning,” Derek says. “Toast?”
“Uh—“ Stiles says. “No, this is fine.”
Derek throws a couple pieces on anyway, and Stiles is actually hoping one of them is for him. He doesn’t want to ask Derek, though. The bacon is sizzling, but Derek leaves it, stepping close to Stiles and kissing him, running his hands down his arms in another check. It makes Stiles feel more uncomfortable in the light of day, so Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s waist, steps closer to get away from it. It maybe isn’t the smartest play – Derek just loops his arms around Stiles’ hips, tongue sliding deeper as Stiles tilts his head all the way back, so near – but it makes Stiles feel less helpless.
Derek pulls away when the bacon starts to spit, quickly finishing up and throwing everything onto the waiting plates. There’s a lot of stuff. Derek puts both pieces of toast on his own plate, but Stiles grabs one, grinning, and Derek lets him.
“You going to class with Jackson today?” Derek asks.
“If he comes over this morning,” Stiles says through his waffle. “Otherwise I’ll just see him there.”
“Do you like sharing classes with him?”
Stiles shrugs. “I guess. It’s nice to know somebody there. It makes lunch easier too.”
“Are you making friends with other people in the class?”
“Not really,” Stiles says. “But it’s early days, right? I will.”
“I know,” Derek says. Stiles thinks he sounds disapproving.
“So do you not want me to have other friends?” he asks awkwardly, hoping the answer isn’t going to be in the affirmative because things have actually been going surprisingly well, he thought, and he doesn’t want them to go back to fighting. They just stopped.
“I do want you to have other friends,” Derek says, which is good but he puts down his fork, which seems like a bad sign. “I just want to know about it.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, considering. “So are you going to start stalking me now that we’re having sex?”
“If you want to see it that way,” Derek says, annoyed. “I need to know who you’re with.” Stiles opens his mouth, but Derek continues, “I already know when you are. I can smell every person who touches you. To the rest of the pack you’d just smell like me right now, but I can still smell Lydia and Stacey on you from last night. I can smell whoever touched your hand before you came into the bar and whoever grabbed your arm earlier in the day. Who were they?”
“Are you serious?” Stiles asks, but he knows Derek is.
“If we were more committed I wouldn’t need to know, but we aren’t and I do.”
“Uh,” Stiles says, “do you want to be more committed?”
“No,” Derek says shortly, “I want you to answer me.”
