triskehale | closed; thomas

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closed,
thomas

closed; thomas

Truthfully, Derek doesn't how good of an idea it is to spend so much time with Thomas. It seems like sort of a dangerous, painful road to go down, but then again, Derek isn't known for his fantastic decision making skills.

Thomas is so different that Stiles in so many ways, and Derek likes him for the person that he is dependent of what he looks like, but sometimes Derek looks at him and forgets that he can't reach out and touch him, pull him in. It's confusing, and painful, but Derek pushes past it. Thomas deserves better than to be brushed aside because he looks like the person that Derek was in love with, and he can handle it.

Derek gets up early on Friday morning and puts on running pants and a white tank, and then feeds his cat before pulling on his sneakers. He grabs two protein bars and two bottles of water, throwing them in a plastic bag before heading out the door. He makes it to the Bramford building in no time flat, not even working up a sweat. Once inside, he takes the stairs and then lets out a breath before stepping up to Thomas' door and knocking on it.

This will be fine. Totally, completely fine.

Probably.

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Thomas waded around for a few moments, letting the only sound be that of his arms hitting the water and the waves crashing down around them. He splashed some water on his face before looking over at Derek again.

"Solar flares," he shared, sneaking a glance up the sky as he said it. "Destroyed most of the world. Killed a lot of people and made the sun unstable. You can barely go outside uncovered without getting seriously burned."

Derek winces and looks up at the sun, squinting against the glare before looking at Thomas again. He's a little out of focus for half a second, but then his vision readjusts. Derek can't help but to drift closer to him, reaching out to press a fingertip to the top of Thomas' shoulder where it's barely peeking out of the water.

"You may get a little pink here, but you're not going to burn up," Derek tells him, and then gives him a knowing, almost shy smile. "I've always been more of a fan of the moon anyway."

"I wonder why," Thomas said, kind of amazed at his own ability to tease Derek about that. If there was one thing he could thank WICKED for, it was giving him the ability to adapt and adjust quickly. Back in the Scorch, you couldn't stand around and cry at each new horrible thing you saw. There was just no time.

"I got burned a few times back there," he sighed, dipping lower into the ocean and letting the water cool his warm shoulders. He stood back up after a moment. "We had to travel at night and sleep during the day. Safest way to do it."

Safe being a very relative term there.

"Haven't the faintest," Derek replies, feeling pleased that Thomas has taken this so well, and doesn't seem to be afraid of him. Thomas says that he was burned and Derek instinctively looks him over for evidence, but he can't see much because of the water. He drifts closer and their shoulders brush, knees knocking under the water. "Are you still feeling a little nocturnal?"

It's strange to be this close to someone and have it not be an aggressive, violent encounter. Proximity was for grabbing someone and running, for fending off a Crank's blows, or holding someone down as they went through the Changing.

This sort of closeness wasn't anything like that. There was no aggression, no imminent danger and Thomas didn't know if he'd ever get used to that. When his knees bumped against Derek,'s Thomas looked up at him.

"Mostly, yeah," he said, nodding. "I'm just really used to sleeping during the day. If I'm exhausted, I can sleep at night but I prefer to be outside at night. It's familiar. It's quiet. Even if I know this sun isn't gonna burn me, going out at night makes sure of that."

"I know what you mean," Derek tells him, looking over and realizing how close they actually are. It feels intimate because of the water and Derek swallows hard. "I'm fine during the day, but I feel better under the moon."

Derek looks at Thomas for a moment and then pushes back, taking a deep breath and letting himself fall back into the water and float up to the surface, arms spreading out wide as he looks up at the clear blue sky. "I don't really sleep all that much."

He hasn't really slept well since the fire. Over the years he's gotten used to it. He'll catch cat naps when he can, sleep deeply when exhaustion sets in. He'll spend lazy mornings dozing in bed when he can, but sleep has always seemed like such a luxury. Or a risk he couldn't afford to take.

Cool air whooshed around Thomas after Derek had pushed away from him and floated away from him. He shivered and swallowed, wondering if that chill was a product of a breeze or just the sudden loss of Derek's body heat.

For a few moments, Thomas is quiet. He's not sure just how enhanced Derek's abilities are so he's not sure if Derek's going to be able to sense Thomas watching him. With the way he's floating, Thomas can see the well defined muscles stretching from stomach up his torso and extending down his arms. There's power there, Thomas knew, but a hidden gentleness as well. He'd experienced it that first night he'd fallen asleep against Derek and when he'd knocked his boots against Derek's at the movie.

He was staring and he knew it. Thomas pulled his eyes away and started speaking just in case he was about to get caught out on all the watching he'd just been doing. "I don't either. Sometimes, I can get some memories back if I'm lucky. I can dream things that really happened. It doesn't happen often though. I've gotten maybe one or two things but that's really why I sleep. In the hopes that I'll get something back."

Derek can feel Thomas watching him, and he keeps his gaze fixed resolutely at a single fluffy cloud in the sky. He tries not to flex his muscles, or to preen, or anything he might do with anyone else, but he feels his breath catch in his throat as he moves his fingers along the water's surface. He looks over just in time to see Thomas look away, and what he says makes Derek's chest constrict in sympathy.

"That has to be hard," Derek tells him, letting his feet sink back down to the sand as he watches Thomas. "But you're handling it well. Because that's what we do, right? We handle it."

"Yeah, we handle it."

Some days were easier than others. Today, for instance, Thomas felt hopeful. He felt that the Flare wouldn't ever eat his brain enough that he'd turn into an animalistic Crank. He felt like he'd get back to his friends, lead them to the Safe Haven, and they'd all be cured and free of WICKED. Today was a good day.

They weren't all like that though.

"Hopefully no one sees me on the days I'm not handling it," Thomas said, reaching down and scooping up a handful of water. It sloshed back and forth against his palms, spilling out over his cupped hands before he splashed the water on his face. "It happens more often than I'd like."

"Well hey," Derek says with a dry laugh, shrugging his shoulders helplessly and flicking some water at Thomas. "Awhile back, I had a whole month or two straight of days I couldn't handle it, and I spent most of them on four paws. So at least I have that."

He doesn't tell Thomas why, that it was because Stiles dumped him and he just couldn't stand being so close
to his scent and his heartbeat, that it was driving him crazy. Then Stiles came and asked Derek to take him back, and he had a few good weeks before he disappeared. Then his heartbeat and his scent, they were gone.

"It's okay to have those days," Derek assures him, standing up a little straighter so that his shoulders are out of the water. "Just don't let them own you."

Thomas nodded, eyes on the rippling water instead of on Derek. Before the Scorch, not handling it had meant Thomas had actually made himself sleep. It'd been a temporary balm to his problems but it'd been the only way he'd had to escape it all. In the Maze, he could run to the Deadheads, hide out there until Chuck or Newt or Minho came and found him. After their staged rescue, he'd tried to sleep everything away.

Here, it was easy to be alone, to retreat inside the private apartment they'd give him and stalk around each room like a caged animal. When the apartment got to be too small, he could run. He could run until his lungs burned and sweat burned his eyes.

Thomas looked up at Derek and nodded. He didn't know if he could necessarily do what Derek was asking but he didn't want to admit that out, not out loud. He had to handle everything, had to keep it together.

"Easier said than done but yeah," he breathed, squinting up at the sun, testing it, making sure it wouldn't burn and scar him. All it did was make his vision wobble for a second or two. With black spots dotting his vision, Thomas flicked some water back Derek's way. "I think I'll take a pass on the all fours thing, though. I don't need a backache to go along with all my other problems."

That startles a laugh out of Derek and he dunks under the water to wet his hair again, resurfacing and reaching up to push it back away from his forehead. He swims a lazy circle around Thomas and then grabs his wrist, leading him back to the shore. "We can't spend all day in here."

Derek walks up onto the beach and then sits at the edge of the wet sand, tipping his head back and letting the sun warm his skin, drying up the water. He looks up at Thomas with a small smile, unable to help the way his gaze sweeps over his body, and the tips of his ears turn pink. "Besides, I promised you a real breakfast."

More and more, Thomas was beginning to notice how Derek looked at him, how he reacted and Thomas couldn't help but notice if he was seeing someone else's face when he looked. Someone since departed, leaving behind only memories and emotional scars.

"What's a real breakfast anyway?" Thomas asked, shoving those thoughts aside for the moment. The water was already cooling on his skin, sand sticking to his wet ankles as they walked out of the water and back onto the shore. "Did Frypan screw us all out of a real breakfast back in the Glade?"

It's hard to look at Thomas and not see Stiles, at least a little. Derek knows that it isn't fair to Thomas and he does feel guilty about it, but deep down he knows that it isn't the only reason he looks.

"Probably," Derek says with a laugh, pulling himself to his feet and going back over to the big, flat rock where he left his clothes. It's big enough for them both to lay on it, and nice and warm from the sun beating down onto it. Derek gracefully hops the few feet up onto it and turns to hold out his hand to help Thomas up. "I'm talking the full breakfast works, here. Pancakes, eggs, sausage, bacon. Coffee and orange juice. Hashbrowns. All of it."

"That's a lot of food," Thomas remarked as he took Derek's hand and pulled himself up onto the rock. He settled himself on the rock next to Derek, stretching his legs out and shaking some water off his arms.

The chill that had clung to him as they'd walked up the beach was gone, driven away by the sun above. Thomas watched the small droplets of water dry quickly on his arm as the heat warmed him up.

"I can help you with all that, if you want," Thomas offered, glancing over. He pushed his hair off his forehead, letting the damp strands slide through his fingers. "Not that I know how to cook, though. That was Frypan's thing, and he hated other people mucking up in his kitchen."

Even those Gladers that worked underneath him were often regulated to grunt work like dishes, serving, and other menial tasks while Frypan played gourmet chef.

"I was thinking about going to the diner," Derek says, looking over to give Thomas a sly grin before bumping their their shoulders together. "Or are you just trying to get me to cook for you again?"

Derek is comfortable like this with few people, and somehow Thomas has already found himself one of them, It's strange. Well, the entire situation is strange, but Derek doesn't want Thomas to think that he's only growing fond of him because of who he looks like. He just can't think of any way to say that.

Thomas schooled his expression into one of pure and utter innocence. He widened his eyes, tilted his head and leaned a little more against Derek's shoulder. Some of it was an act but most of it wasn't. The leaning wasn't. The leaning definitely wasn't.

"Do you think I'd do that?" Thomas asked him, barely suppressing a snicker. This whole day had been good for him. The weight that constantly lay across his shoulders had lifted, leaving him feeling light and relaxed. It was a rare feeling but one he'd embrace on the rare occasion it happened. "I wouldn't do that to you. Not today, at least."

The innocent expression dissolved and Thomas laughed, shaking his head and turning his face up to the warm sun again. "Nah, we can go to the diner. Save the cooking for another time when I'm not as dumb and can help you."

Derek watches Thomas' expression change and finds himself unable to look away. His skin feels molten hot where they're pressed together, and Derek resolutely does not look any lower than Thomas' chin, acutely aware of how little they're actually wearing.

"I think you might," Derek replies, voice pitched low as he smiles. But then his expression changes, turning into a confused frown, and he shakes his head. "You're not dumb, Thomas. Far from it."

He watches as Thomas looks up, skin glowing radiantly under the sun. He tears his gaze away and looks out at the waves gently lapping at the shore. "Besides, if I teach you to cook, what will you need me for?"

Thomas wondered how his brief time on the island might have been different it not for Derek. He could see himself still wearing the clothes he'd shown up, holed up in his dark apartment, only remembering to eat when he started to feel the physical and mental pain only associated with hunger. While he still didn't trust this place and continued to think he'd find a way back eventually, Derek had made this place comfortable. He'd done more for him than anyone else in Thomas's life and Thomas had no way to repay that debt.

Thomas kept his face turned up to the sun, bright orange lighting up the world behind his closed eyes. This world wasn't burning. This world was alive.

"Because who else is gonna remind me to eat?" Thomas joked before opening his eyes and turning back towards Derek. "I'd need you because I would. Because I like being around you. Because I'm comfortable."

His comfort wasn't always visible, he knew. There was tension and strain in his shoulders and back, curling up to choke him and suffocate and drag him under. But, there were times that eased and this was one of those times. It had been like that during the movie too. "Better question is why would you need me?"

Derek is expecting the joke, but he definitely wasn't prepared for what comes after. He knows that he isn't the warmest of people, and not the easiest to get along with. But Thomas means it when he says that he would need Derek, and that he's comfortable around him. This knowledge brings with it a whole surge of emotion that Derek has no idea what to do with, not at first.

All he wants is to be needed, to find safety and companionship. He has friends here, more friends than he ever thought he could have. He knows they like him, and maybe they even need him, but to hear it said is something else entirely. He stares at Thomas, a little stunned, but he can't help the way that the corners of his mouth quirk up into a smile.

"For all the same reasons," Derek assures him, because the words don't flow so freely with him. It comes from years of emotional constipation, and trying his best to numb himself to the world. Talking about what he's feeling is a herculean effort that he hasn't quite grown accustomed to yet, if he ever will.

After the words had left his mouth, Thomas wondered if he'd said too much. He didn't want to make Derek uncomfortable, not when he was probably still healing from a departure that cut him deep. The words were sincere and they'd been tucked away in a corner of Thomas's heart for a little while now. Just like the Maze, just like the Scorch, he knew he couldn't make it in this city alone. He didn't even want to be alone though he would always think people here were much better off without him.

"See, no harm in teaching me to cook," Thomas said lightly. The smile answered Thomas's question about whether he'd made Derek uncomfortable. It wasn't forced or faked and Thomas liked the way it looked on Derek's face. "Well, not unless you mind me starting small fires because I bet that happens. Frypan probably got off easy when I didn't get a go in the kitchen."

"We'll start off with something small," Derek says with a quiet laugh, feeling lighter now that Thomas had eased a worry that he wasn't even consciously aware of. He's still so used to how it was in Beacon Hills, and him being important only because of what he could provide, rather than who he was.

Sometimes it's hard to remember that he's been in Darrow a long longer than he was in Beacon Hills, after Laura died. Those few months seemed to last a lifetime. And then sometimes he feels guilty for settling into Darrow so much better than he did back home. There are people here that are trapped and desperate to get out and go home, and it's not that Derek likes being stuck here against his will, but he knows that it's better here. For him, at least.

"But I am determined to be a better cook than someone named Frypan," Derek says with a roll of his eyes, gracefully rolling backwards to lay on the rock. It's flat and smooth, warm against his back in a pleasant way, and he lets out a content sigh.

"I don't know, that's a lot to live up to," Thomas remarked, mimicking Derek's movement by laying back and stretching out carefully. He wiggled his toes, feeling sand caught up between them that he'd probably find in his socks later. It probably wouldn't be the last time.

"I mean, how can you expect to beat a guy who smelled like grease and probably slept with the Glade's animals," Thomas said, closing his eyes and letting that bright orange color fill up his mind again. The last time he'd laid out in the sun, he'd woken up with patches of red crisscrossing his face and a mouth so dry, he'd barely been able to talk. "He had lots of hair too. Lots."

"Well." Derek laughs at that, feeling relaxed, and looks pointedly down at his hairy chest and arms. "I'm not exactly hairless, but I'll do my best not to get any hair in your food. Or fur."

They lay there in comfortable silence for awhile, drying off until the salt feels tacky on his skin. Really, they should have gone to the watering hole. Next time, he thinks pleasantly. Because he's pretty sure there will be a next time. Thomas seems outdoorsy in a way that most of his friends aren't, aside from Luke. As comfortable as it is to spend time with another wolf, there's something great about showing his world to a human who is willing to try and see it through a wolf's eyes. Thomas seems understanding, and unafraid, and part of Derek settles at that. He can be completely himself around Thomas, if he chose.

Derek stretches out a little and feels his fingers brush along Thomas' wrist. Without thinking, he curls his fingers around Thomas' for a moment, pressing the pads of his fingers to Thomas' pulse just to feel it, and then he lets go and lets out a pleased sigh. He isn't eager to leave, so he just stays stretched out on the rock, soaking in the sunshine with a small smile on his face.

Derek's hair just seemed to be different than Frypan's. Frypan was the King of Unruly Hair with follicles sticking out from places Thomas didn't even think hair could grow. Thomas much preferred how Derek looked, smelled, and well, Derek was just all around better. He missed Frypan, sure, but they'd never really been that close.

The longer they lay there, the drowsier Thomas felt. The sun had always seemed to have that effect on him, pushing him down and tucking a blanket around him like a cocoon. Eyes closed, he felt like maybe he was floating up towards the sky. His body felt light, free of the scars both visible and not.

The touch on his wrist didn't startle him. The fingers were warm and searching and Thomas wondered if he could just take Derek with him when he floated away. When the touch disappeared, Thomas allowed a sleepily smile to cross his features.

His wrist still felt warm. He still felt warm.

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