potosi | crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

[ His center of gravity rocks forward almost immediately and Stiles slumps into Derek's barrel chest, keeping his hands in Derek's and pressing his cheek against his pecs. ]

Yes. [ He says to nothing and to no context in particular, like he's just really suddenly pleased with having his face mashed in Derek's chest. (He kind of is.) ]

[ Braced to let Stiles lean his weight into him, Derek lets him keep one hand while the other slides away from his grip, settling in the small of his back to keep him stable. But he seems pretty attached to him, or at least the idea of being pressed up against his chest. ]

Hi there. [ Soft and amused, he rubs his thumb along the line of his spine through fabric, angling his head to get a look at him. ]

You caaaame. [ Is what comes out of his mouth, all muffled by the front of Derek's jacket; Stiles looks up and presses his chin to his chest, smiling from ear to ear at him.

He came! This is the first time Derek's been here. He should probably say something.

He doesn't. Just grins kind of stupidly at him. ]

Of course I did. You asked me to. [ A small chuff of laughter comes out of him, and Derek gently brings his hand around to nudge at his hip. ] But we're currently outside your apartment, and I have ingredients that need to be used or put into cold storage.

[ Another nudge, but he doesn't take back his other hand still. He likes the contact there-- likes Stiles leaning up against him, but he's ignoring that as best he can-- and is reluctant to let go. ]

You brought me food! [ Drunk Stiles is apparently super into stating the obvious. He flings his arms in the air when he stumbles backwards, taking Derek's hand with him, and gives him this stupidly, dopily affectionate look, then tries to push open the door with his ass, stumbling through the threshold.

Casa Stilinski is pretty small. There are posters lining the walls, from Star Wars to sports stars, and a pair of lacrosse sticks piled in a corner. One of the walls is entirely covered in pictures that must have been from his kindergarten class, and there are mini mobiles hanging in the kitchen, with a decidedly feminine touch. (Thanks Lydia, who declared Stiles and Scott's little apartment a disaster area and untouchable by anyone of the female gender.) ]

Of which you also asked me to do. [ Derek doesn't sound in the least bit exasperated by the fact Stiles keeps stating the obvious, and instead bends forward to pick up the heavy bag again so that he can carry it in. It isn't much strain, and he simply uses the other hand to make sure Stiles doesn't fall over.

Nudging the door shut with a foot, he looks around at the apartment. Part of him really wants to kidnap Stiles back to his apartment, permanently, but he pushes it out of his mind and instead makes his way over towards the kitchen with his fingers still curled around Stiles'. ]

I forgot. [ Stiles stumbles forward into Derek's arm when he keeps a hold of him, wrapping both of his arms around his bicep and leaning into him as they enter the apartment.

He should probably be embarrassed. But he most definitely is not. Ah, alcohol. Making a pleased noise, he rubs his cheek on his sleeve and follows him right into the kitchen, peeking over his shoulders and watching everything he does. ] Fooooood.

Obviously, since you were sitting outside your apartment. Were you waiting for me? [ Derek lets him hold onto his arm, calmly guiding him through to the kitchen. It's not as if he can't find his way around, considering the size of the place, but he's being careful as he goes to make sure Stiles doesn't stumble.

Dropping his bag onto the floor outside the kitchen, he sets the one with all the ingredients onto the counter so that he can start taking everything out. ] Yes, food.

Yussss! Duh. 's polite. [ He literally walked outside the minute Derek told him he was coming and stayed there. It's a good thing it's mid April.

Stiles gives him a dopey smile and leans into his shoulder, dropping his arms to give him his other hand back obediently and wrapping it around his waist instead, basically melting into his side. ] I can't believe you're here.

Right, of course. [ It really is a good thing it's mid April, otherwise Stiles would be a popsicle. Not that Derek would be against warming him up again-- okay, focus, Hale.

Letting Stiles maneuver himself into his space, he works easily with his attachment, content in the moment. He needs to dig around in his kitchen for all the pots and pans and the crockpot, but he's in no real hurry since the pulled pork sure as hell won't be done before Stiles is unconscious. ] Why's that?

You're here! [ He repeats it again, because come on, Derek, that's like the easiest explanation ever. However, it occurs to him that maybe he needs to make that more obvious to Derek, so he worms his way under his arm when he reaches for the pots, gesturing at the upper cabinet when he gets the chance and then returning to curling into his chest. ]

's the first time you've cmere. [ Aside from the way that gets slurred at the end, it's at least cohesive. ] And you're cooking! For me! Right now, I like--dreamed about this.

[ Following his gesture and allowing him further into his space, Derek reaches to open the upper cabinet and starts going through the pots to pick out the best ones for the task at hand. He's got a lot of cooking ahead of him, but it's for Stiles. He's happy to do it.

He pauses, though, when Stiles curls into his chest and looks down at him. Brows raising a little, he looks fondly bemused. ] I would've come sooner if you'd asked me to. It doesn't always have to be at the loft.

[ A hand comes up, brushing knuckles across his temple. ] I just like spending time with you.

[ He absolutely beams at him as Derek looks down again, arms still locked around his waist, and pillows his cheek against his chest, softening just a little as his hand brushes across his temple. ] I like spendin'time with you too.

[ It's actually one of his favorite things to do. Stiles has been over at Derek's almost every day lately--his best friend's been stupidly busy with his exams, leaving him bored to all hell and finding his solace in someone who was a little similar, who shared his hobbies and listened to him, judged people quietly when they spent time together, had his sense of humor.

He has the biggest crush on him at this point--it's weird to imagine life without it. It's Lydia sized. Even bigger than Lydia sized.

Drunkenly, it's nice to enjoy it. There's a lack of inhibitions, here, where he can just get up close without even thinking something could be wrong. ] My 'partment sucks. An' I like Laura, and Talia, too, and--I wanna spendalotta time with you. All the time.

Your apartment doesn't suck. It has you in it. [ He laughs a little as he beams up at him, something warm creeping up his neck to have such a look sent his way. His fingers curl a little in his short hair, thumb rubbing against his temple as he scans his face. Stiles is drunk as hell, but he's warm and pliant and so affectionate.

Derek wraps his arm around his shoulders, letting him get comfortable against his chest. This is nice. It's nice to have something like this again, and feel like there's not some ulterior motive to it. Stiles just wants his company, likes bantering with him, sharing his mindset and humor. It's all just... Nice.

The crush definitely isn't one-sided, but he's working up to it. ] We can do that, you know.

Well yours has you. [ When the arm comes up around his shoulders, Stiles just turns over and tucks his face under his chin, keeping both of his arms laced around his waist. It's basically a hug, and he's kind of enjoying being wrapped up in Derek's arms like this, drunk enough to ignore the fact that this would be probably be way, way, way over the line.

But he laces his fingers behind him and smiles stupidly at him, resting his chin on his chest. He gives him a look, a little confused. ] What?

Yours also has me in it, to be fair. [ Well, it appeals to his drunk logic, doesn't it? Derek sets aside his ingredients and tools, bringing his other arm up to wrap around him with the first comfortably. He probably shouldn't be encouraging this the way he is, considering, but they're just... hugging. That's it.

Comfortable, he lets a faint rumble of a laugh out at the confused look, fond as can be. ] Spend time together, all the time. We practically do, anyways.

[ Stiles is quiet for a second as he thinks about that, because that is pretty much flawless drunk logic, then nods. ] 's true. I like it with you in it. 's kinda shitty otherwise. I meannnn--Scott's awesome, butttt...

[ There's an aborted gesture behind his back, and Stiles just hums in agreement, dropping his head under his chin and swaying just a little. Derek is nice and steady and warm and that idea just sounds great right now. ] I wanna.

[ ...and then,because his drunk mouth refuses to cooperate just like his sober one: ] Wanna kiss you too. And stuff. Lotsastuff.

Well, I can start coming into it more often. [ Stiles sways, and Derek shifts with the movement easily, keeping hold so he doesn't fall over or anything but not just simply standing there. Not when Stiles is so happy right now, or with how much it shows. He just... really likes Derek, and is completely honest about it right now.

Probably in a way that will be ridiculously embarrassing later on. But he'll just... make sure he knows that it isn't misplaced or anything.

The faint laugh turns into a more open one, and he presses his lips to the top of his head. ] If you still want to in the morning, I think I'd be all right with that.

You should. [ He nods, swaying slowly with him. By now he's been on his feet long enough that he's starting to get tired--summer break or not, Stiles is still very much on a school schedule. Plus, with that much alcohol in his system, it's starting to run its course.

Tilting his head up, he looks at Derek, cheeks flushed, smile a little lopsided, eyes half lidded, and nods. ] Yeah.

[ Yeah to the consent, yeah to the I want to kiss you later? Who knows. ] You're the best.

I will. Now that I know where you live. [ Stiles' weight is a little heavier against him now, and he looks sleepy when he tilts his chin up to look at him again. But Derek isn't surprised, he's an elementary school teacher and completely inebriated. He figures it'd probably be a good idea to actually put him to bed.

Expression softening as he smiles lopsidedly at him, he goes through his cabinets for a clean glass and fills it up with water, navigating easily despite his drunken attachment. ] Not really. But I'll take care of you.

[ He nudges his hand a little at him, though doesn't try to pry him off. ] Time for bed, Stiles.

You are the best! [ Guess who's still stubborn. The answer is Stiles. Drunk or not, he levels him with a look, and even lets go of his waist to put his hands in his shirt instead-- ] You're--smart, an' funny, and really, really really hot, and you like kids and totally get all my... [ Derek your chest is nice. ] ...jokes... [ Pat. Pat. ]

[ The nudge makes him fidget away, at least a little obediently, and he watches him grab the glass, making grabby hands for it. ] Are you coming?

[ Eyebrows raising as Stiles goes on a tirade at him, Derek leans his head back a little and blinks down at him. But then a bark of a laugh is startled out of him as he seems to get distracted patting at his chest, and he uses that to ignore the warmth that curls through his ribs. ] All right, all right.

[ He reaches his hand out, steadying it at Stiles' waist and curling his fingers into his shirt. He does not give him the glass yet, because the equation Stiles + liquid + movement pops into his head and he decides it will not result in a very good total. ] Yeah, I'm going to tuck you in. C'mon.

Gonna--hehe. Gonna read me a story, too? [ Still a little shit to the end. Stiles leans heavily into him when he reaches out, even frowning at the fact that he didn't get the water--but he's easy to distract, considering, and he finds his grip on Derek's shirt, stumbling forward a couple of steps.

See, look, he's so totally got this. Stiles is a legend. (It's a seriously good thing their apartment doesn't have stairs. ] Comiiiiiiiiiiiing.

If you want one. [ More like if he's still conscious by the time he gets stripped and hydrated and put into bed. Derek lets out a soft hum as he leans into him and follows easily as he starts stumbling forward. He isn't exactly keen on the idea of him falling over, and he's definitely grateful for a lack of steps anywhere.

Just furniture and errant things on the floor, which are easy enough to nudge out of the way or steer Stiles around as he lets him lead him by the shirt towards his bedroom. ] What do you want for breakfast?

[ That gets a pleased smile out of the kindergarten teacher, who stumbles his way to his room, but freezes when Derek asks the last question, and promptly whirls around, to which he falls smack into Derek's chest.

But that's not enough to deter his questions anyway. ] You're really gonna stay the whole night?!

[ There's a beat. ] Pancakes.

Edited 2013-12-14 07:43 (UTC)

crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

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