(Part 1) (Part 2)
Stiles and Derek are walking down the street, Derek trying desperately to keep his hand from getting too clammy where it’s attached to Stiles’. He’s vaguely aware that they’re headed in the direction of his apartment, but isn’t focusing on it. Too much.
Stiles is rambling on about one of his classes at school and Derek is…captivated. He’s generally not much of a talker, but Stiles seems to talk enough for the two of them.
Most people take Derek’s silence for granted and trample over it, leaving him no room to contribute. But Stiles keeps sneaking little glances at Derek and occasionally nudging him with questions that Derek answers probably very ineloquently. Derek wants to kiss him for it, but he thinks maybe now isn’t the time. He tunes back in to what Stiles is saying.
“Which is how I ended up in tech support.”
Derek nods, “It seems like a good fit for you. You have to like talking as much as you do if you’re going to be on the phone with strangers all of the time.”
Stiles pales. “Oh. Sorry. I didn’t mean to-“ his voice softens. “I know I talk a lot. I didn’t mean to like, overpower you. I get that a lot.”
Derek can’t help barking out a laugh. “No, Stiles. I didn’t mean it that way. You definitely weren’t overpowering me. I don’t like talking that much-I’d rather listen.”
“Really?” Stiles asks, cheering immediately.
Derek squeezes his hand. “Really.”
Stiles smiles brightly at him and squeezes his hand back. “Well you have to tell me something about yourself. How’d you get into history? No offense, but just looking at you, you wouldn’t strike me as a history nerd.”
“That’s probably a compliment,” Derek responds.
Stiles laughs and then continues to look at him expectantly, reminding Derek that he hasn’t actually answered his question.
“Oh. How did I get into history…I don’t know, I’ve just always liked it. There’s something fascinating about hearing about how people lived in a different time period and the things they dealt with. I like seeing how we deal differently with the same types of situations now.”
“And writing?” Stiles asks.
Derek can feel himself blushing a little. “Well. I liked history a lot, but…I just wanted to be able to tell it in my own way. Put my own perspective on it. Make history something of my own, you know?”
Stiles has stopped walking and is staring at Derek with his mouth slightly agape. “Fuck, that’s hot,” he finally says.
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