Stiles glowers in response to Derek's growled retort, a muscle clenching in
his jaw as he sets his face. A more stubborn expression would be hard to
find, especially as he seems to be taking that last bit as a challenge. He
can so manage. Okay, maybe Derek is a werewolf, and an alpha, and would
probably be freakishly buff and rugged even if he were just human, whereas
Stiles is at best wiry, and at worst scrawny and kind of awkward and just
now starting to grow into his overly-large hands and eyes, but whatever.
"Don't be an ass," Stiles shoots at him, managing to almost find the energy
to be pissed. As it is, he only manages to find a vague irritation. "I know
it's hard for you, but seriously, just because I'm human doesn't make me
any less--"
His words stop when Derek reaches for his face, and Stiles can't help the
involuntary breath he hisses in through his teeth, waiting for the touch
to hurt, like everything including that breath has hurt so far. It never
occurs to him that Derek would hit him or hurt him, something he hasn't
thought in months, but he has no idea what Derek does intend.
It's a surprise, then, when it doesn't hurt. In fact, those fingers do the
opposite of hurt. They're cool, soothing, a blessed relief from the dull,
burning throbbing he's been feeling for days now, refusing to take the
painkillers he's been offered. And while he still can't quite breathe
through his nose, he can at least blink without flinching and swallow
without feeling like his entire sinus cavity is going to launch through his
eye sockets, and that is blessedly wonderful. Unthinking, his face turns
further into Derek's hand, seeking more of that relief, before the
weirdness of what's happening finally sinks in and he starts to straighten,
the old curiosity and suspicion beginning to shine through. "You're doing a
thing, aren't you?" A thing. A Werewolf Thing. He so isn't mad about this
one. This one can stay.
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timeasmymeasure
no subject
Date: 2014-09-16 01:04 am (UTC)Stiles glowers in response to Derek's growled retort, a muscle clenching in his jaw as he sets his face. A more stubborn expression would be hard to find, especially as he seems to be taking that last bit as a challenge. He can so manage. Okay, maybe Derek is a werewolf, and an alpha, and would probably be freakishly buff and rugged even if he were just human, whereas Stiles is at best wiry, and at worst scrawny and kind of awkward and just now starting to grow into his overly-large hands and eyes, but whatever. "Don't be an ass," Stiles shoots at him, managing to almost find the energy to be pissed. As it is, he only manages to find a vague irritation. "I know it's hard for you, but seriously, just because I'm human doesn't make me any less--"
His words stop when Derek reaches for his face, and Stiles can't help the involuntary breath he hisses in through his teeth, waiting for the touch to hurt, like everything including that breath has hurt so far. It never occurs to him that Derek would hit him or hurt him, something he hasn't thought in months, but he has no idea what Derek does intend.
It's a surprise, then, when it doesn't hurt. In fact, those fingers do the opposite of hurt. They're cool, soothing, a blessed relief from the dull, burning throbbing he's been feeling for days now, refusing to take the painkillers he's been offered. And while he still can't quite breathe through his nose, he can at least blink without flinching and swallow without feeling like his entire sinus cavity is going to launch through his eye sockets, and that is blessedly wonderful. Unthinking, his face turns further into Derek's hand, seeking more of that relief, before the weirdness of what's happening finally sinks in and he starts to straighten, the old curiosity and suspicion beginning to shine through. "You're doing a thing, aren't you?" A thing. A Werewolf Thing. He so isn't mad about this one. This one can stay.