puckandpie | time to talk [dated to 1/13/2016]

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derek

time to talk [dated to 1/13/2016]

It's that quiet time of night, the last half hour or so after Derek's already booted out the last of the stragglers and the few employees left over are all silently cleaning up so we can head out as quickly as possible. We don't need that many hands for closing, to be honest, just one or two in the front to take care of the tables and floors and me in the back to clean up the kitchen. So I'm really not surprised at all when I push open the kitchen door to find only Derek finishing up with the bar in front.

I already have my coat on -- the leather one Derek got me for Christmas because it fits me so, so well -- and am looking forward to the quiet walk home. After hours and hours of forcing smiles and chipper conversation, it'll be nice to not have to pretend for awhile.

Derek's back is to me and I let myself watch him for only a moment or two before heading for the door. I know he can both hear and smell me so, as much as I'd maybe like to, it's not like I can just sneak out.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Hale," I say, hoping there's enough of a teasing lilt still left in my voice as I reach for the door.

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"Not so fast, Mr. Bittle," Derek calls back, not even turning around as he finishes stacking the last few glasses under the bar. "Hang back for a minute."

He pours them both a beer, some sort of honeyed ale made here in Darrow that he likes, and gestures towards the booth in the corner before turning to look at Bitty. "Come have a drink with me."

I honestly can't remember if Derek's ever asked me to stay past normal work hours and my stomach immediately plummets with worry. My mind's already whirling, trying to think back on the past few hours, on if I'd accidentally let my mood impact my work in anyway. Did I make a mistake on one of the pies? Did someone complain?

Swallowing, I shove my hands in the pockets of my coat and head back to the bar, watching as Derek pours two glasses of beer. I can't tell if that's a good sign or not, if he feels like he needs to get me to relax so he can give me bad news.

"Did I do something?" I ask, frowning at one of the glasses, but not yet taking it. I can't even bring myself to sit down; I'd rather face criticism standing.

Derek wouldn't even have to be a werewolf to know how nervous Bitty suddenly gets, but he can smell it all over him. It mingles with the worry and sadness that has been taking over his sugary cinnamon smell for almost a week now, and Derek has been trying to give him space and let him get over it, but it isn't getting any better.

"You didn't do anything wrong," Derek assures him, gesturing at the seat across from him. "I asked you to stay as your friend, not your boss."

"Oh," I reply, glancing down at the glass and then back up at Derek. His expression is as kind as ever and I feel some of the anxiety in my gut unwind as I reach for one of the glasses, taking a careful sip.

Swallowing, I lick my lips, holding the glass. I don't sit down yet; I have no idea how long Derek wants to spend here and I still feel nervous in a way I usually don't around Derek. I know he can probably smell it on me too, but I don't know what to do about that.

"This is pretty good," I say then, looking down at my glass. It's just for something to say, really, but it's also not a lie."

"Do I have to ask you nicely to sit down?" Derek asks with a laugh, taking a sip of his own beer. Bitty is obviously nervous, and Derek doesn't want him to be, not around him. If Bitty was serious about being pack, that means that Derek is his alpha. And alphas take care of their own. "Bitty, please sit. I'm not going to bite you."

He's teasing, of course. It's nothing but friendly. But I still feel my pulse jump for a second and have to cover it up with a smile before sliding into the booth across from Derek.

I take another sip of beer, again mostly for something to do.

I wonder if I should take my jacket off, but its weight on my shoulders is oddly comforting so I don't. Not that I need protection from Derek, of course. More like protection from his reaction to anything stupid I might say or do.

"How's your puff doing?" I ask him finally, my finger dragging along the cooled glass of my drink.

Edited 2016-01-13 03:50 (UTC)

"It's okay. Back to normal," Derek assures him, smiling a little. "Won't stop nuzzling me. I think it feels bad."

He watches Bitty for a long moment, tilting his head and giving him a gentle smile. He's worried about Bitty, of course. They're friends. They're pack, but he also doesn't want to push.

"And how are you are doing?" He asks after a moment, tone soft. "You haven't quite been yourself."

I don't know all the details, but I know enough to grimace a little in sympathy. If nothing else, I'm pleased nothing horrible happen to the poor thing while all that craziness was going down. Or Derek, of course. Though I'm pretty confident he can fend for himself.

His question doesn't come as a surprise. Even if he couldn't scent emotions, even if I wasn't pack, we do see each other almost every day. I should've realized he'd figured things out sooner or later. I can't really hide from him.

Frowning, I stare down at my beer, drag my thumbnail down the glass. "It's been a rough few weeks," I tell him with a shrug. "I'm... I know I need to work harder at being cheery. I'm sorry, I've been trying."

"Bitty, you don't need to work hard at being cheery," Derek says gently. "That'd be pretty hypocritical of me to say, right?"

He smiles a little, trying to lighten the mood. Bitty's behavior has been a little worrying, but he knows that all things take time. "You don't have to pretend. I just want you to know that I'm here, okay?"

Derek smiles, his head tipped down to catch my eye and I know he's trying to make me smile, too. He isn't entirely unsuccessful; seeing him smile is enough to make my lips tug upward at least a little bit.

It fades just a little as he continues and I nod again, returning my attention to my glass. "I know," I tell him because I do. There isn't a single part of me that doubts his sincerity. "I'm pack and you're... you're here to look out for me." I don't really know how to tell him there are some things he can't take care of, though. He can't get me home. He can't fix any of my dumb mistakes. He can't make himself want me.

Swallowing hard, I look up at him again and give a tight nod. "And that really means a whole lot to me, so thank you."

"I can't fix everything. I know that," Derek tells him, tilting his head a little. He knocks back a little more of his beer, and then knocks his boot against Bitty's foot. "But I can help. So why don't you come over and I'll make you some food."

He pins Bitty with a look. "And don't say you're not hungry. I didn't see you eat anything on your break."

He's not wrong, of course. I didn't eat anything on break, but I still don't feel particularly hungry.

Somehow I know he's not going to let me off the hook so easily though so I nod. "Okay," I tell him and then take a breath. Another hour or so of pretending to be okay won't kill me. And, well... I guess in some ways, I'm sort of a masochist. This isn't the first time I've liked someone completely unattainable; it's just the first time I've ever liked someone this much. Someone I'd even consider my best friend. Spending time with Derek is just as wonderful as it is painful.

I take another drink of my beer, closer to guzzling this time, and then slip out of the booth. With any luck, I'll be able to feel it soon. I paste on the best smile I can manage. "Far it be for me to turn down Derek Hale's fine cooking."

"That's right," Derek says with a laugh, pulling on his jacket after slipping out of the booth. He sets the glasses onto the bar to clean tomorrow, and then goes around to start flipping off the lights.

Once they're out into the cold, Derek locks up and slips his keys into his pocket. They aren't too far from Dimera, and they walk along in relative silence. The air is still and almost silent, and Derek is glad when they make it to his apartment.

"I have some sliced up tri-tip in the fridge," Derek says as he pulls his jacket off and hangs it up. "Make yourself comfortable and I'll make us some sandwiches."

I stay quiet as Derek flips off the lights and locks up, my hands buried in the pockets of my coat. It's barely cold enough to see my breath, but I watch the faint mist all the same until we're on our way.

We've still hardly said a word by the time we get to Derek's apartment and I slip out of my coat after he's taken off his own, hanging it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs before standing awkwardly next to it.

"That sounds good," I tell him, hesitating another second before toeing off my shoes and setting them near the front door. Whatever buzz I might have had from the beer back at Semele's is long gone and I take a careful seat on the far cushion of his couch. A moment later, Jinx jumps up to join me, stepping right into my lap and curling up. Despite myself, I smile down at her, petting a hand down her dark fur.

"I need to introduce you to Elvis," I say to her, scritching lightly under her chin. "Do you promise to be nice to him? He's still mostly a kitten and could do with a good influence."

Having Bitty be so quiet is a little strange. Derek is used to him talking all the time, to filling the silence with his charming southern twang. But now he's so subdued, and Derek isn't sure what to do.

Hes in the kitchen fixing their sandwiches when he hears him talking to Jinx, and he looks up to watch them interact. Her black fur and the smile on Bitty's face give him an idea, and he straightens a little as he thinks about it. Yeah, that might work.

"She could use someone to be the boss of," Derek says as he comes over with a tray. On it sits two sandwiches and a plate of chips, along with two bottles of water. He sits down next to Bitty and Jinx immediately sits up, paws up on Bitty's thigh as she sniffs. Derek rolls his eyes and picks up the piece of meat he set aside for her, handing it over. She takes it and goes over to her bed in the corner, munching on it with happy little growls.

"Eat up," he says, handing one of the plates over. "You should crash here. It's late and I have something I want to show you tomorrow."

Jinx's paws are two little points of pressure on my thigh and I have to tense up a little so it doesn't hurt so much. She leans forward to sniff at the meat and then grabs and runs off with it and it's hard not to laugh a little at the happy sounds she makes.

Though I stop abruptly when Derek speaks again, fumbling halfway through opening one of the water bottles.

"Oh, uh. It's. I mean, I've been out later than this before," I tell him before taking a quick sip and then keeping my eyes turned away as I grab one of the plates off the tray and set it in my lap. I'm certainly not scared to spend a night in Derek's apartment, but something about it feels... it feels like too much right now. I need to get over this, get over how I feel, and I can't do that by sleeping on a couch that smells so much like him and waking up to him cooking breakfast like some sort of domestic dream I'll never have.

I take a bite from my sandwich and of course it's delicious. I hide my chewing behind my hand, swallowing before I add, "What is it you want to show me? I can come in early tomorrow if you want?"

"It isn't work related," Derek says, shaking his head a bit and picking up his sandwich. "You can just take the spare room."

It was hard at first to refer to Stiles' old room as the spare room, but that's what it is now. Kate boxed everything up and washed the bedding after Stiles disappeared, leaving the windows open. It doesn't even smell like him anymore, not after all this time. It's just an extra room.

"And then in the morning we'll go do the thing," he says, taking a huge bite of his sandwich. Once he swallows, he cuts Bitty a look. "It's a surprise thing."

My eyes drag over to the door of the room he's talking about and I honestly don't know if that would be better or worse than just sleeping on his couch. At the very least, it shouldn't smell so much like him. And it would be nice to not spend a night completely alone for once, even if there will be a wall separating us.

I glance back at Derek then and hesitate before taking another bite of my sandwich. "Surprise thing," I repeat, wondering what exactly that means. I don't have a single clue what it could be, but I narrow my eyes, trying for playful as I ask, "Is it manual labor? Help with the food truck? Is Helen taking the day off?"

"You caught me. I need help chopping wood," Derek says with a laugh, shaking his head a bit and looking over at him. "No, you'll like it, I think. But I'm not telling you what it is."

He reaches for a chip and pops it into his mouth, and then gives another one to the puff when it rolls over and squeaks. "I'm mysterious like that."

He laughs and it's a nice sound. It always is. Seeing Derek like this, relaxed and warm and happy, is my favorite thing. And that should be enough, I think. Just seeing him happy. It really is selfish to want anything more than that.

Just wish I could convince the stupid ache in my chest though.

"Yes, very mysterious," I confirm, trying for my most teasing smile, before I take another bite of my sandwich, chewing and swallowing it quickly. "It's a good thing I trust you, you know."

"It is a good thing," Derek says, sounding entirely sincere. He is glad that Bitty trusts him, very much so.

He wipes some mustard from the corner of his mouth and rolls his eyes when Jinx comes back over, meowing pitifully. He just stares at her, and she huffs and flops onto her side.

"So it's settled," Derek says with a decisive nod. "It'll be fun."

I keep eating my sandwich, smiling a little when Jinx wanders back over to beg for some more scraps before giving up with a put-upon sigh, collapsing onto her side at our feet.

"Okay," I agree because I still have no idea what he has in mind, but I know I can trust him. It'll be fun, whatever it is. Maybe fun enough to pull me out of from under this cloud for a few minutes. I'm still not sure how I feel about staying in his apartment over night, but I'm not sure I can get out of it without telling him everything. He can detect when I'm lying.

So instead I just paste on another smile and take a deep breath. "Will I need my skates?" I ask, and it's possible I may be trying to find out exactly what it is he has in mind.

"Nope, and stop fishing," Derek says with a laugh, finishing his sandwich and wiping his fingers on a napkin. He knocks back the rest of his water and stands up, reaching over to grip Bitty's shoulder for a moment. "I'm heading to bed. Help yourself to anything you need. The spare room is all set up."

He stretches and then reaches down to scoop up the puff, and then sets it on Bitty's shoulder. "Here, the puff can keep you company."

He's finished his sandwich and water in no time and I'm just finishing mine when he stands up with a heavy breath and rests one warm hand on my shoulder. It seems abrupt, a little like he's trying to be done with the night and I can't say I blame him. I wouldn't want to deal with me and my current mood either -- I mean, there's a reason I've just been keeping to myself lately.

"Oh," I say, blinking stupidly for a second before nodding quickly. "Yeah, okay. Thank you,"

He sets the little puff on my shoulder then and it burrows against my neck, soft and fluffy. It's nice and I'm glad for the little bit of comfort it can provide. "I'll see you in the morning, then," I tell him.

Unless I decide to leave in the middle of the night which, despite whatever fun thing Derek has planned, sounds appealing. Except then I imagine he'd only find away to blame himself for my cowardice and know I won't go through with it.

"Sleep well. I'll head in here real soon myself so I promise I won't keep you up."

"Don't worry about it," Derek says kindly, not wanting it to seem like he's brushing Bitty off. "But we do have a big day tomorrow, so get some rest. Night."

He heads into his room with Jinx in tow, and shuts the door gently. Tucked away carefully in his closet is the gift he was given by Magnus but Christmas, and he smiles to himself as he gets ready for bed.

This is going to be a good day.

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