Derek Huffs Out A Breath And Stares At Him From Across The Loft. Nothing Conveys This Is Ridiculous Quite

Derek huffs out a breath and stares at him from across the loft. Nothing conveys ‘this is ridiculous’ quite as much as the position of his eyebrows. Stiles has had enough conversations with them to pride himself to be the only person in the pack who is able to not only analyse but also notice even the slightest change in their positioning. So, it’s pretty damn obvious that Derek thinks he’s an idiot but is nice enough not to say it outright. Which is another thing he can put an exclamation mark behind. Not everybody is safe from his deadpan comments.

Glaring back at him, Stiles presses his hands against the kitchen counter. Silence stretches between them.

It lasts for about a second.

“Derek,” he snaps throwing the tangerine back into the fruit bowl, “why are you so opposed to everything nice?” Stiles has lost count of all the discussions they’ve had about completely mundane things – movie nights with the pack, a new couch, a bookshelf for all his books, a better stove. Anything that results in comfort or happiness is something Derek vehemently rejects. If they have to talk about his self-worth again, he’s going to need a strong drink. They’ve been over this a million times.

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When I was a kid it was my father’s people, the irish, who were looked down on. Called filthy foreigners. Discriminated against. Is that the xenophobic America you want? All religions, all nationalities, we all want the same thing.

Theo: (touches Stiles’ thigh under the table in public)

Stiles, internally: You can bet your sweet bippy you’re gonna get some later.

Stiles babysitting baby yoda all over the galaxy

Theo: Stiles could leave me on read at 4:30, text back at 8:47 and I’d reply at 8:46