[ as he drives, Derek's gaze repeatedly flicks back to the sight of Stiles poring over the map, brow furrowed with a rare sense of trepidation. Derek doesn't exactly offer those around him anything with great frequency, especially not outsiders, and the position he's put himself in is weird enough that all the hairs rise on the back of his neck. he doesn't respond to the question, and it's partially out of embarrassment; the lingering, youthful awkwardness that surrounds what might be considered a kind gesture.
thankfully, Stiles gets the message, as Derek had presumed he would. Derek huffs through his nose, and the sound is warmed by an edge of humour. ]
I don't need it anymore, and you refuse to take a hint, so use it. [ he has no doubt that Stiles will do just that, but saying anything else felt too familiar, too amicable. ]
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thankfully, Stiles gets the message, as Derek had presumed he would. Derek huffs through his nose, and the sound is warmed by an edge of humour. ]
I don't need it anymore, and you refuse to take a hint, so use it. [ he has no doubt that Stiles will do just that, but saying anything else felt too familiar, too amicable. ]