[ Glad that Stiles begins to move, for as shaky as he is, Derek leads him along despite the fact he knows Stiles remembers the way. He doesn't resist the hand that slips down his arm, finds his own hand, because that's not a foreign gesture. Between the start of the zombie event and Thanksgiving, it wasn't as if they didn't reach out for each other in the quiet, after Scott's death and with restless nights shared between them.
It's nothing to just squeeze their palms together, pressing his pulse into Stiles', filling the space between a jackrabbit beat. They're not synchronized, not exactly, but they're a steady tattoo combined. A pair as one.
There are a lot of stairs, between the main hall and their rooms. But he keeps going, slowing every now and then to just draw Stiles into his side by their hands, touch running smooth and steady across his knuckles. ]
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It's nothing to just squeeze their palms together, pressing his pulse into Stiles', filling the space between a jackrabbit beat. They're not synchronized, not exactly, but they're a steady tattoo combined. A pair as one.
There are a lot of stairs, between the main hall and their rooms. But he keeps going, slowing every now and then to just draw Stiles into his side by their hands, touch running smooth and steady across his knuckles. ]