[ Something lights up and burns warm in his chest as Stiles laughs, and he loses a smile in the kiss as he returns it easily. They look grossily like those sappy honeymooning tourists and he knows it, even if he hadn't been conscious for the question from their fellow passenger. Outside observers can think it, but Derek is more than aware of it. They give off that joyous glow, and he's... well, he's not going to be upset if they think it.
Because he's happy. And he squeezes Stiles' hand back as he reaches to pick up his own suitcase, not looking away from him as he does. Because there's always been a spark to those big, stupid doe eyes, but now it's warmed the amber into something soft and he can't really find it in himself to look away. ]
It usually is when it comes to you and inebriation. [ Still, he lets himself get tugged forward, hefting up his bag easily so that he can follow him. They have to check in, of course, but then it's off to gorge themselves on food. ] I will not. It's valises, Stiles.
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Because he's happy. And he squeezes Stiles' hand back as he reaches to pick up his own suitcase, not looking away from him as he does. Because there's always been a spark to those big, stupid doe eyes, but now it's warmed the amber into something soft and he can't really find it in himself to look away. ]
It usually is when it comes to you and inebriation. [ Still, he lets himself get tugged forward, hefting up his bag easily so that he can follow him. They have to check in, of course, but then it's off to gorge themselves on food. ] I will not. It's valises, Stiles.