The movie, some atrocity called Blood and Chocolate that Derek can barely stand to watch, it's so heinously bad, has Stiles completely enthralled. Derek rolls his eyes, but finds himself watching Stiles more than the screen, glancing up periodically to confirm Stiles' occasional queries. Eventually, Stiles stops asking questions, absorbed in the melodrama unfolding before them.
Derek is studiously ignoring the film when Stiles' breath catches, and Derek looks up, alarmed. Hugh Dancy, whom Stiles had earlier informed Derek is "dreamy", is leaning in towards the werewolf girl, capturing her mouth in a sweet, gentle kiss. Derek snorts, and Stiles turns wide, troubled eyes on him.
"What, what's funny? They didn't get the kissing wrong, did they? I mean, I try not to look when Scott and Allison are going at it, but I'm pretty sure werewolves and humans can kiss!"
"We can," Derek admits, and he can practically feel the weight of Stiles' gaze, dropping to rest on his mouth. There's just enough space between them on the couch for the abandoned bucket of popcorn, and Derek can smell Stiles' want, the soured frustration and choked-up longing ever-present under clean sweat and the salt-butter tang that lingers on Stiles' lips.
"Is it different?" Stiles asks, curiosity temporarily overriding desire. "Kissing a human as opposed to another werewolf?"
Derek hesitates. His experience here is limited, but... "Was everyone you've kissed the same?" he asks. Stiles' eyes drop to the couch, his fingers restless against the fabric. It's an answer, and Derek feels an unexpected thrum of sympathy. He remembers what it's like to be 16 and untouched. His hand moves seemingly of its own volition to capture Stiles' fingers, stilling them between his own.
"You'll have to find a human for the other half of this experiment," Derek says, and angles himself toward Stiles just enough to make the invitation clear. He won't push this, but he's willing to offer.
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winterfish
Movie Night 2/?
Date: 2012-08-14 03:56 pm (UTC)Derek is studiously ignoring the film when Stiles' breath catches, and Derek looks up, alarmed. Hugh Dancy, whom Stiles had earlier informed Derek is "dreamy", is leaning in towards the werewolf girl, capturing her mouth in a sweet, gentle kiss. Derek snorts, and Stiles turns wide, troubled eyes on him.
"What, what's funny? They didn't get the kissing wrong, did they? I mean, I try not to look when Scott and Allison are going at it, but I'm pretty sure werewolves and humans can kiss!"
"We can," Derek admits, and he can practically feel the weight of Stiles' gaze, dropping to rest on his mouth. There's just enough space between them on the couch for the abandoned bucket of popcorn, and Derek can smell Stiles' want, the soured frustration and choked-up longing ever-present under clean sweat and the salt-butter tang that lingers on Stiles' lips.
"Is it different?" Stiles asks, curiosity temporarily overriding desire. "Kissing a human as opposed to another werewolf?"
Derek hesitates. His experience here is limited, but... "Was everyone you've kissed the same?" he asks. Stiles' eyes drop to the couch, his fingers restless against the fabric. It's an answer, and Derek feels an unexpected thrum of sympathy. He remembers what it's like to be 16 and untouched. His hand moves seemingly of its own volition to capture Stiles' fingers, stilling them between his own.
"You'll have to find a human for the other half of this experiment," Derek says, and angles himself toward Stiles just enough to make the invitation clear. He won't push this, but he's willing to offer.