potosi | and I know the call of my unborn sons colors all I've done.

[ And the next, and the next, and a party with even more candy, before Danny is allowing his godfather to take his and Allison's candy bags from them to pass over to Lydia for a moment. He yawns notably, but still gets in a goodbye to Isaac and Scott before uncle Jackson is picking him up in one arm and scooping Allison up in the other. ]

Bye guys. [ And an additional wave is offered over Jackson's shoulder, as he props his chin on it. ]

[ Derek finds himself also collecting a sleepy passenger in the form of Scott, lifting him up easily (but carefully, making sure not to damage his wings or get one in the face) and propping him on his hip. Even at seven, he's easy to manage and carry. They've had years to get this routine down, and Scott's always been small.

He leaves Isaac, knowing that he'd only get cranky if he tried to pick him up. He's at that stage where his pride only worsens with exhaustion, and the only way he'd be able to carry him was if he was out cold. ]

[With enough candy obtained to have the boys (and probably Stiles) on sugar highs for the next month and a half, the general mission of Halloween had been a total success. Three out of the four children were more or less out of commission, and as Stiles says his last goodbyes to Lydia, he hefts Scott's candy bag over his shoulder and turns towards their little party.

Derek's a natural, and he grins a little before looking at Isaac, and wordlessly offers his hand to him. It's not a big deal or a big gesture, but it's something, and he's practically holding his breath to see if he'll accept.]

[Isaac lifts a hand up toward Stiles's, giving a little grunt of a response as he takes it. He squeezes it a little due to wobbliness before yawning.

Tiiiiime to go home. Jeez.]

[A sleepy Scott slips his arm slooowly and carefully through the elastic of his wings, pulling them off and letting his arm hang behind Derek's back. He lets the elastic wrap around his wrist so he won't drop them and puts his cheek on Derek's shoulder, trying not to fall asleep- and failing horribly. ]

[ Smiling a little as Isaac takes Stiles' hand, Derek rubs his hand along Scott's back and let's him have a moment where he can actually fight off sleep. It doesn't last, though, because as they begin the trek home he starts to rumble faintly. The almost not-sound, more-vibration starts in his chest as it always does, but he let's it rise higher into his throat so that Isaac can pick up traces of it himself.

By the time they get home, he's pretty sure they'll be out like lights. ]

[The minute he thinks no one's looking, Stiles pumps his open fist, grinning like an idiot. Isaac. Isaac held his hand. Scott was always affectionate with him, had been since the beginning (because Scott was Stiles' favorite person in the world, let's face it), but Isaac was a completely different story.

He tries to subdue it a little when he catches Derek rumbling, tries to surpress the way it makes his smile soften.]

The magic of a good sugar coma.

[He's mostly quiet as they make their way across the biggest street, keeping his grip on Isaac like it's something sacred.]

[The magic of a sugar coma indeed.

Too tired to protest his lack of being asleep, Scott gives a little growl, eyes on Isaac.]

[Isaac returns the sleepy protest to Scott, but keeps his hand tight around Stiles's. There's no point in fighting it- they'll be in bed soon.]

[ Derek snorts in both amusement and agreement, before he leads the way in silence. It's a quick trek, despite the tired boys, and not long before he's working with Stiles to get them stripped of the harder bits of their costumes to just tuck them into bed. Superhero costumes double as great pjs.

They both get hugs and nuzzles to their hair, followed by quiet kisses to their foreheads and love yous, before he's retreating to the doorway. ]

[Stiles is used to this routine now, an integral part of it, and he's more than happy to help Derek, gathering assorted parts of the costumes and putting them out of the way. By the time he gets back Derek's tucking them in, hugging them--Stiles leans against the doorway on his arm, watching, and it's not until Derek starts to turn around that he jumps back like he totally wasn't melting a little.

God.

Grinning a little lopsidedly, he reaches into his pocket and presses a box of something into Derek's hand, solidly.] Aw come on, don't look so sour. It's grown up time.

[It's one of the packets of sour patch kids that Scott had given him earlier. Grinning like a loon, he pulls out his own, shakes it for his inspection, and turns around to head down the stairs. Derek didn't exactly invite him to stay, but he might as well get comfortable. Right? It's not like it's a long drive back to the apartment, but Stiles is dragging his feet towards going.]

[ Choosing not to call Stiles out on the look on his face-- mostly because it made Derek want to melt a little, himself-- he raises a before down at his chest as the box of candy is pressed to it. He takes it, if only so that it isn't dropped, huffing softly before he closes the door behind himself. He leaves it a little cracked, just in case, then follows Stiles down the stairs.

Used to him invading, he simply goes towards the kitchen, setting the candy on the counter and heading for the fridge. ]

Want a beer? [ There's your invite, Stiles. ]

Is that a better alternative to the sugar high? [Yessss, success. His apartment is boring and quiet and kind of smelly, honestly, and Stiles practically lives in the Hale house. It wouldn't be the first time he'd dozed off on their couch and ended up in the guest room after a couple beers and some awesome/terrible movie that Derek hadn't seen yet (and what a travesty that always was), and he was content to spend the rest of the evening here, bantering with the murderpapa himself over a beer and leftover candy.

Hopping up on the counter, he gets comfortable without smacking his head on the cabinets behind him and leans forwards on his knees.]

So, I still want to see those Tony Stark pictures.

Yes. It is. [ Derek knows exactly what might be in store for him tonight, considering the past nights that Stiles has invaded his house and taken over his couch. Someday, he wouldn't be surprised to see Stiles just living with them at some point. He opens the fridge, letting out a quiet chuff as the Tony Stark costume is brought up again. Retrieving two bottles of beer, he easily snaps off the caps, offering one to Stiles. ]

You really want to see them that bad? [ He holds the beer up to his bottom lip, tapping the bottle against it with a little smirk. ]

Dude, it's been driving me crazy since we left the house. [Taking the bottle, he lifts it and nods his head in a sign of thanks, taking a drink and setting it aside, smacking his lips together. Stiles might as well actually try to savor it, and he kicks his feet against the side of the counter, brimming with curiosity.]

Personally, I think you'd be a better Batman. Or Wolverine, but you know. Preference. Both take in a bunch of kids and end up being parents, but have a similar level of grump. [His mouth twitches up in a grin.] Maybe Wolverine more.

It was one of my coworkers that suggested it. The boys just grabbed onto it and wouldn't let go after that. They did try to talk me into Wolverine for this year, though.

[ Setting his beer down next to Stiles, Derek holds a hand up to signal he'll be back. It's only a second, anyways, as he goes into the living room and retrieves a book from one of the shelves. It's not the only photo album they have, but most of the others are in the attic or Derek's room.

He brings it back, stopping in front of Stiles and stepping close to offer it to him. His knees almost press into his stomach, with what little space there is. ]

[Lighting up at the sweet, sweet taste of victory, Stiles leans back against the cabinet, watching Derek peter off into the living room and taking a sip from his beer. As he brings make the pictures, he crows a loud] Now we're talking!

[--before reaching out to take the book, leaning forward just as Derek does. They're in each other's space, and while it's been pretty normal for them since day one, after all that time--all those things that had gone by today? It makes his heart speed up, stupidly, and Stiles swallows to try and slow it down again as he opens the book on his knees, still grinning.

The pictures are awesome. He can't help the snort.] Oh my God, it's perfect. Literally perfect.

[ He'd be a poor excuse of a werewolf if he missed the change in Stiles' heartbeat, but Derek opts not to comment on it. Instead, he reaches and gets his beer again, taking a drink and snorting softly at the response the pictures get. He even shaved his facial hair for the costume, which pretty much everyone had gotten a kick out of.

But rather than look at the pictures with Stiles, he's looking at him, watching him go through the album. It's got everything from when Isaac joined their family up to that year, spread out with how rarely Derek himself takes pictures.

That doesn't change the fact that there's a few, towards the end, of Stiles himself. ] I wouldn't say it's perfect, but I was pretty popular.

Clearly you're not lacking in the Stark ego. [Mouth twitching up into a smile, Stiles shakes his head, turning the pages beyond the halloween costumes.

For a family that can't really take pictures--at least not with flash--there are a lot of them, carefully documented. It's the side of Derek that Stiles has gotten to know beyond the terrifying wolf from the first day they met. The loving, kind of dorky, ridiculously attractive, brilliant father that he was to his two kids. By the time he reaches the end, his smile has softened, even as his eyebrows grow up at a picture of him.]

I remember this! When we took the boys to the waterpark. [He grins at the picture, folding his thumb over it, himself with his arms thrown around both Isaac and Scott, all three of them smiling like morons--his gaze falls finally on one of himself with Scott, both of them fast asleep on the couch, Scott on his chest. That makes an embarrassed flush go up to his cheeks, and he draws his gaze upwards, mouth a little open.]

When did you take that?

Thankfully I'm lacking in the alcoholism. [ It seems a little hypocritical to be drinking his beer after saying that, but alcoholism is expensive in general. Throw in lycanism? Should damn well hope that you're loaded.

Derek is maybe a little anxious as Stiles goes through the pictures, but mostly he's just patiently amused, waiting for when he gets to the end where he starts showing up. Of course there's so very few of the murderpapa, enough so that he and the nosy human are about matched by the end. A smile quirks asst the corner of his mouth when he first shows up, and he watches his reaction.

It grows a touch behind his beer as he sees the one of him and Scott sleeping, and cracks into a soft grin at the flush. ] Not that long ago.

[It's a good picture, that much is undeniable. Stiles isn't photogenic--if anything, he's the guy in the back with an eye half closed and generally looking like he's on something. But this is different. Sure, he looks like a moron, but Stiles pretty much always looks like a moron when he's asleep, mouth wide open and drooling and probably, let's be honest, talking to himself, but it looks like...

Well, it looks like it was taken with care for more than just Scott.

Mouth falling into a small, pleased smile, he brushes his thumb across the picture, trying to hide his embarrassment with an awkward bob of his head.]

Sorry for falling asleep on your couch all the time.

[God.]

I don't think the couch minds. [ An absent bit of teasing, but Derek figures Stiles probably needs that first, before he says what else came to mind. For a moment, he looks down at the familiar image of Stiles on his couch, looking maybe less than attractive by most standards. But there's something endearing about it. That his sons are comfortable enough to join him at times, that Stiles himself feels safe in the wolf's den. That he's somehow weaseled his way in to the point that said wolf even finds him drooling on his couch endearing in the first place.

He shrugs, angling his head a little to catch Stiles' eye. ]

And it's not exactly like it's a huge chore to move you to a bed. [ Both of his brows raise. ] Which I'm pretty sure doesn't mind, either.

Edited 2013-01-24 04:28 (UTC)

It doesn't?

[If that's not a loaded sentence, nothing is and Stiles takes a minute to realize what actually just came out of his mouth.

Christ.

He wasn't crazy. He knew he wasn't crazy. Stiles could pick up on signs--he'd been so desperate for them from Lydia for so long that he was an expert on seeing them. You don't need heightened senses to pick up a feeling from someone. Just to look in the right places. But if you combined his smarts with his own denial and insecurities it made those supposed assurances feel like nothing.

He does manage to look him in the eyes when he says it, though. At least Stiles can follow through on things when they escape from his chronic foot in mouth syndrome.]

No, Stiles. It doesn't.

[ Stiles is a fascinating study-- from fearless fear in the face of danger, to the way that he talks with his entire body at all times, to the different twists in his smiles, and how he just doesn't back down-- but the one thing Derek's still trying to place is the doubt. He doesn't completely have the puzzle that Stiles presents down yet, but this is one piece he doesn't know what to do with.

He reaches to set his bottle on the counter, before resting his hands on either side of Stiles' hips. Considering him up close, he tilts his head in that wolfish way he does. ]

The couch doesn't, the bed doesn't. The boys definitely don't, and neither do I.

So long's the house doesn't, I'm on a roll. [He can't help the stupid comments that come out of his mouth, either, or the fact that his heartbeat ratchets up yet again, this time for an entirely different reason. Stiles is used to Derek being in his space. He's not quite sure if he's used to it like this.

(Or if he'll ever get used to it, if it keeps happening. And he's not really sure if he ever wants to be used to it. He'd rather keep enjoying it every time.)

When Derek cocks his head, his eyes flicker down to his mouth for half a second before coming back up, meeting his stare. His mind's already formulating about six different ends to this, but his hormones have settled on one, and God, if it doesn't happen in about ten seconds, he's about to initiate it himself.

Maybe.

If he can't work up the courage, he'll have to leave.]

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god damn that icon

and this one?

swoons

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