[ a flicker of tension runs through his shoulders at the contact, but for the moment, Derek doesn't shrug it off. brows twisted, mouth set; his expression is guilty when he tilts his head to glance at the hand. it is unwelcome, he thinks, he doesn't want sympathy or pity or comfort, doesn't need it - and yet, he eases marginally under Stiles' steady hand.
well, at least Stiles knows now. this reduces the chance of awkward, painful conversation down the line, so Derek tries to reason. but as the quiet stretches, it grows harder and harder to bear, and Derek is bewildered and lost in the face of gentle, kind, contact. acknowledgement of his loss makes it all the harder to ignore the things he lives with every day; the tightness in his chest, the needle-sharp pain in his throat.
awkwardly, he moves his hand into his jacket - a small move, but enough to shake off Stiles' touch. it serves a greater purpose, however; it's not the greatest of lead-ins, but it'll get them off the topic and besides, it had been Derek's intention in the first place, before he'd spied Stiles wandering down the street. ]
Here. [ he's holding out what looks like an ordinance survey map of the city. if Stiles opens it, he'll find that the different counties have been carefully outlined and labelled with the relevant factions. there are areas shaded with hand-drawn lines, marks made along certain roads and in specific areas, singling out points of importance, of danger, of interest. much of the map's original text has been scrawled over with notes, sometimes from two different hands. ]
It's up to date, [ he says, and there's still a gruffness in his voice that it sounds like he's attempting to plow through. ] For now.
no subject
well, at least Stiles knows now. this reduces the chance of awkward, painful conversation down the line, so Derek tries to reason. but as the quiet stretches, it grows harder and harder to bear, and Derek is bewildered and lost in the face of gentle, kind, contact. acknowledgement of his loss makes it all the harder to ignore the things he lives with every day; the tightness in his chest, the needle-sharp pain in his throat.
awkwardly, he moves his hand into his jacket - a small move, but enough to shake off Stiles' touch. it serves a greater purpose, however; it's not the greatest of lead-ins, but it'll get them off the topic and besides, it had been Derek's intention in the first place, before he'd spied Stiles wandering down the street. ]
Here. [ he's holding out what looks like an ordinance survey map of the city. if Stiles opens it, he'll find that the different counties have been carefully outlined and labelled with the relevant factions. there are areas shaded with hand-drawn lines, marks made along certain roads and in specific areas, singling out points of importance, of danger, of interest. much of the map's original text has been scrawled over with notes, sometimes from two different hands. ]
It's up to date, [ he says, and there's still a gruffness in his voice that it sounds like he's attempting to plow through. ] For now.