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

Aw, did it offend your chef palate? Okay, fine. But before we go-- [ Stiles takes Derek's bag and chucks it somewhere behind them, then fists his hands in the front of his shirt to pull him down for a deep, hungry kiss.

When he breaks away, with a tug of his lower lip between his teeth, Stiles murmurs-- ] That was for the French. [ and then brushes off Derek's lapels himself.

He looks pretty much merry as he ducks underneath his arm and out into the hallway, absently pulling out his phone and snapping a picture of Derek's back and the hotel room to add to the pile of vacation photos. There's going to be an epic spam of pictures later--you only go to France once, after all. ]

Horribly offensive. [ Derek watches his bag go flying, but doesn't resist as he's pulled forward into a kiss. Instead, he reaches his hands out to wrap his fingers around his hips, giving him a kiss that mingles with the way he's been speaking French since they landed in France. Easy and languid, but deep, passionate.

He can't help but bristle a little at the feel of teeth, though, and just laughs something small and breathy as he starts to dust him off. ] J'aime le Français.

[ Straightening himself out a little more as Stiles ducks out, he examines the hotel room before patting himself down to make sure he has everything on him. Phone, wallet-- and thus, hotel key-- and extra money. When he's sure of it, he turns and makes his way out, ducking into Stiles' space to simply be there, nose butting up against the hinge of his jaw as he wraps his arms around his middle and presses his chest to his back. ]

[ stiles makes an "oof" noise the minute derek makes contact with his back--he wasn't expecting that--and grins as he looks over his shoulder towards the nose butting up against his jaw, and says the one word he knows in French, mostly to be a smartass. ] Oui.

[ complete with bright grin. he can't really walk like this, and they have a thousand places to go, so much food to eat, but stiles really can't bring himself to care. he leans backwards into his arms right there outside of the hotel room, and lolls his head onto his shoulder, comfortable and at home, despite basically buzzing with energy. ] Dude.

[ that's kind of a catchall, before he actually kind of looks over, and his smile softens a little, warms his eyes up. ] You're the greatest, you know that?

[ This is a little counterproductive to getting out of the hotel-- though, they could waddle along like idiots-- but Derek still relaxes against Stiles' frame. They basically support one another, and he's more than happy to just take a moment first. He hums something soft as he props his chin on Stiles' shoulder, letting it turn into a soft rumble that radiates contentedness.

Even if he's a smartass. He just laughs a little, squeezing him gently in his arms. He has no idea how he has any energy to practically vibrate in his skin, but it's somehow perfect to just hold him like this. ]

Mm, no. I think that's you. [ His head lolls a little on his shoulder to get a better look at him. ]

[ stiles scoffs and snorts, lifting a hand to shove playfully at his face-- ] Okay, man, you want some pancakes to go with all that sap?

[ but he is 100% not red, at all. not even a little, because that would be dumb. stiles is not going to have that argument with derek here, because despite all appearances, they are not the sappy honeymooning couple.

they're just. a regular couple. who'd been dancing around each other for like a year.

stiles digs around in his pocket for a second and holds up his phone, pressing the button to flip the selfie camera around. ] C'mon, one for your fanbase.

[ and then he makes a dumb face and hits the button. ]

I could make pancakes. [ Derek lets his face be shoved at, cocking his head a little as he laughs at him softly. Maybe it's more than a little sappy, something more for the honeymooners than two guys who've been dating officially for six months, dancing around each other before that for a year. But right now, he doesn't care.

He's in France with Stiles, and Stiles wanted to come. He'd said yes when he'd offered him the plane ticket, and he's thrilled. More than thrilled.

Straightening again as Stiles fishes his phone out, he shifts a little and scrunches his face up at the camera as he hits the button. If Stiles is going to make a dumb face, he's going to make his disgruntled dog face. ]

We're on vacation! Dude, literally the entire point of being on vacation is not working! Eating other people's food. That's why we're here. [ he pauses for a beat, tilts his head. ] Maybe we can break into a hotel kitchen.

[ shh derek's food is the best. pulling the camera down, he only pulls out of his arms when he hears the elevator ding, and the look he casts down at his smile is undeniably soft and romantic, and he flicks his thumb absently over it as he posts it to his instagram account, then jerks his head back up in typical stiles fashion. ] C'mon, dude, if we miss all the French food, I'm gonna be mad and hungry, and that's a shitty combination. I wanna eat a snail.

We brought all the technology we needed to make sure we could keep updating the channel and your instagram. We're still working. [ But he laughs at Stiles' proposition of breaking into the kitchen, and just draws away slowly when the elevator dings.

Immediately after, though, he reaches and puts his hands on Stiles' waist to start steering him towards the elevator, thumbs sneaking under layers to rub at the skin of his hips while they go. It's just an absent gesture, something that he takes delight in. ] We'll go get you a snail. Not sure if you'll like it, but we'll get you a snail.

crayola doesn't make a color for your eyes.

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject

no subject