So, about that whole Derek doesn't know how to talk to people thing.
He'd been doing just fine in his head. The thoughts swirling around, the concern for the human girl in front of him were all valid. To express them would mean giving over something that wasn't the normal, ineffable neutrality and aloofness that always followed him around. Surrounded him in a fog that never quite dissipated, and mostly because he never bothered to step away from it.
If she thinks he doesn't see that flicker of her expression, that hurt that slides across her features before she manages to get ahold of herself, she's wrong. And it makes something in him twist, something deep in the middle of his chest and he realizes that Peter is the reason she's hurting so much.
His blood is the reason. And it makes him grit his teeth, a sudden flare of anger he can feel in the pit of his stomach, a heat that has him clenching his hands into fists.
He's feigned uncaring for so long that it's nothing less than second nature to him now. And it's something that he needs to stop.
".. Wait," he hears himself say, though it sounds disjointed - like it's just the echo he's hearing. Just one syllable seems to bounce around in the space between them, and he holds her gaze.
"I'm sorry. That wasn't something you needed to hear."
no subject
He'd been doing just fine in his head. The thoughts swirling around, the concern for the human girl in front of him were all valid. To express them would mean giving over something that wasn't the normal, ineffable neutrality and aloofness that always followed him around. Surrounded him in a fog that never quite dissipated, and mostly because he never bothered to step away from it.
If she thinks he doesn't see that flicker of her expression, that hurt that slides across her features before she manages to get ahold of herself, she's wrong. And it makes something in him twist, something deep in the middle of his chest and he realizes that Peter is the reason she's hurting so much.
His blood is the reason. And it makes him grit his teeth, a sudden flare of anger he can feel in the pit of his stomach, a heat that has him clenching his hands into fists.
He's feigned uncaring for so long that it's nothing less than second nature to him now. And it's something that he needs to stop.
".. Wait," he hears himself say, though it sounds disjointed - like it's just the echo he's hearing. Just one syllable seems to bounce around in the space between them, and he holds her gaze.
"I'm sorry. That wasn't something you needed to hear."