or say we're only dreaming;

[melocoton]

O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
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♥ request one of my muses from my desperately needing an update muselist
♥ i'll respond to it and we can thread some stuff and things.
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wiggles around

[triskeles]

[ It's a thing that Derek never thought would happen, between the guilt of Paige and his family, and the fact that for the longest time they were perfect examples of the Greco-Roman feud. Constantly bickering and provoking one another, he can't quite remember the moment that things... shifted. They didn't really change, exactly, since they constantly go at each other still two years later, but there are more quiet moments. Have been, for a while.

He can remember their walks in the Halfblood woods, sitting in the heart of them when Stiles got the news about his mother and saying nothing, letting loose when the numbness from the fire had finally shattered. There's a layer of understanding, of empathy, that is the foundation of their relationship. They keep each other on their toes, can have rapidfire exchanges of sarcasm and matching humor, fights more volatile than Greek fire, but in the end they're just Stiles and Derek. Not a Greek, not a Roman. Just them.

It works, and it's what he needs. Stiles, it turns out, is what he needs.

Which is why he's more than a little relieved that the son of Hecate decides that he wants to check out New Rome, maybe actually stay there for the schooling. There's no denying that he became attached to Camp Halfblood while he was there, enjoyed New York for the most part, but the thing is that California is his home. His pack was destroyed, a scorch left on Beacon Hills, but New Rome is in his blood just as much as he's one of Pluto's sons. And he wants to share it with Stiles.

Rubbing his fingertips across the lines of his tattoo in his inner arm, Derek watches Stiles as he takes in the city laid out before him. There are some nerves there, but he largely shoves them down in favor of the warm, gooey feeling in his chest. Stiles stands out with the bright, warm orange of his shirt, but he...

He looks good here, amongst purple and white marble and everything he's known since he was young. ]

So?

uvu

[hypercompetent]

[ stiles notices--that's something about him. he's always been able to pick out little gestures, details, and he doesn't think it's a gift from his mom at all. rather, he learned how to understand people from his dad, because it's the kind of inherent present one can only get from a cop father, passed down to a wannabe police officer son.

so he sees derek's hand trace out his tattoo, and stiles can absolutely not deny the fact that his smile gets a little soft at it. this is his home, in the way camp halfblood was stiles', and he gets that more than anyone. and it is really amazing here, and he could probably move his dad into the safety of the city, and it just...

sucking in a deep breath, he rocks back on his heels, tilting his head back and forth as he ponders it. ] Well, I mean, it's hella close to home. And demigod school sounds like a huge level up to demigod camp.

[ he flashes derek a smile, and when he does, he reaches over and takes his hand, loosely threading their fingers together. ] As long as I don't get shot for wearing my shirt here, we should go check it out. It looks awesome, dude. Friggin awesome.

[triskeles]

Demigod school also pays off a little more academically than demigod camp does. [ Tone amused, Derek watches him rock as his hand drops from his tattoo. He's not afraid to be caught with his nerves, not by Stiles, but fidgeting is usually more his thing than the Roman's. All the same, though, he can't really help it. This is his second home, where everything stayed strong when the world fell around him. Camp Halfblood was there for him, and could've been home, but not in the same way. ] And with it being closer to home, you could either visit your father more often, or...

[ Or the elder Stilinski would be welcomed here, despite not being a demigod himself. He was family, and that meant he had a place here. They always did need mortals amongst them, especially in positions that the sheriff could take.

Letting him take his hand, he smooths his thumb along the outside of Stiles', giving him a small squeeze as he ducks his head a little. ] You're not going to get shot for wearing your shirt here. The war's over between camps, at this point, after everything that's happened.

[hypercompetent]

Yeah. California's a long way off from New York, huh? Guess it's easier that way. [ it's kind of weird to think of his six foot, muscular, kind of hairy boyfriend as being cute, but sometimes derek does things that make something in stiles melt a little on the inside. the way he ducks his head when he squeezes stiles' hand is one of them, and he gives him a lopsided grin for a second, looking for all the world like a dumb, lovestruck teenager.

it just lasts for a second, though, before stiles squeezes his hand back and his smile evolves into a full forced grin. ] Well--come on, let's go check it out. If I recall correctly somebody owes me some of this so called famous Roman ice cream for making me drive all the way out here when I could have been laying in bed in my underwear playing Call of Duty all night.

[triskeles]

[ His initial response is a soft hum of agreement-- because New York really was so very far away, but maybe it was good for them both in a way, he's not sure-- before he looks off to the side. It allows Stiles that second to look at him without Derek realizing the expression, the emotion that is being sent his way, because he's distracted thinking about where he wants to take Stiles first. There are, actually, quite a few places they could go to first.

But then Stiles squeezes his hand and draws his focus back to him completely, and the Roman regards him thoughtfully a second. There's a quiet relaxation to his expression, but then he just chuffs a wolfish sound of amusement before pulling him closer to him by their hands. ] Why lay around in bed playing video games when you can be here, where there's famous Roman ice cream and brownies and dark, secluded corners with someone who frequently kisses you?

[ He deadpans all of that, easily, brows raised the slightest bit. ]