halfbloodhill | SITUATION POST: JULY 21, 2013 (APHRODISIA)

What am I doing? [ Did his voice just crack? It sure did. He gets his hands on the glaive to pull it out, and wow, his hands sure are sweating like crazy, and when he looks at Derek, it makes something in his chest do a backflip, a Lydia backflip.

Okay, be cool, Stilinski. He clears his throat. ] Uh. Just--training, that's all! I didn't mean to uh, interrupt your brooding session, I'm sorry.

[ God seriously, Derek is ridiculously attractive. He's just kind of staring, open mouthed, hand still on the glaive but not going anywhere, until finally, he realizes he's still holding it and jerks it out of the ground, sending the point entirely too close to Derek's face. ]

[ Well that's interesting.

A slow blink passes over his face, and he simply observes Stiles for a long moment, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. There was a sudden shift, and after the few encounters they've had all the centurion has experienced so far is an abrasive attitude and a know-it-all air.

Bringing his hand up, Derek snatches the end of the glaive just below the blade, reflexes holding it steady so that he doesn't get stabbed in the face with it. ] It's been a long week.

[ That's all he offers, his voice incredibly gravelly as he slowly shifts to get to his feet. ]

Yyyeah, totally! Is something bothering you or something, cause, I mean, you're looking more, uh, alone than usual, like even more than usual. Not that you're not like always alone, but uh. Yeah. You know what I mean.

[ Wow, Stiles, you are just nailing this, aren't you. His ears turn bright red and he gives the glaive a slight tug where Derek's holding it, increasingly embarrassed and flustered and wow, jesus, your voice is like super attractive right now. ] Uh, so I guess I'll just go back to practicing or something, and, uh, get out of your hair. [ You called that practicing? ]

No. It's just been a long week. [ Scott may trust Stiles, but Derek is not inclined to tell him about his lunar problem. Especially not with the way the Hades cabin has been on edge all week, too.

His grip remains firm despite Stiles' tug, and then he reaches his free hand out to grip a little higher, using his leverage and greater strength to actually spin the glaive out of the Greek teen's grip. ] Have you ever actually used one of these before?

[ He holds it loosely, testing the weight. ]

Wh-hey! [ The glaive goes flying out of his hands--wow, hot--and he looks up at Derek and is, in fact, put out. No sudden crush of the century on Derek freakin Hale is going to make Stiles' ego deflate any.

Although Derek still is ridiculously hot. Possibly even hotter when he's being an asshole. (Maybe Stiles needs to check his priorities here.) ]

Most of us aren't trained at war camp. [ It's not going to make him any less catty, either, and he might be a little snide in about it, new crush or not. ] And we just got the celestial bronze weaponry for the whole of camp like this summer.

[ Derek isn't particularly bothered by the snide response, running a hand up along the shaft of the glaive almost thoughtfully. Its weight is good, but the grip isn't the best. Not for bare (sweaty) hands, anyways. But that can easily be modified, and he finds himself considering what would be the best material to use for his legionnaire's friend (and the boy from the police station).

He looks up at him calmly, brows raising. His voice comes out in the same growl, though it's particularly dry until the end. ] You could always come to training in the mornings with the Romans, Stiles.

[ Bringing the glaive up, he taps it against his shoulder calmly, not about to give it back to him. But then suddenly he's less abrasive, the corner of his mouth quirking. ] Or I could teach you how to use it.

I am not coming to training with the Romans. [ He can also say that, thank you, and his voice is a little more challenging than it was before, playful almost, like all the mostly aggressive banter they've had since he arrived is softened to what feels almost affectionate.

Something in his chest does a flip at the suggestion, and he blurts out-- ] Yes! [ Well that was dumb. ] I mean, yeah, you think so? What do you know about using a glaive, anyway?

[ It's not really that insulting. What is happening. ]

[ You know what today is, Stiles. That's what's happening. ]

Suit yourself. [ Though he's a little disappointed by that, the sudden answer causes him to let out a gruff, throaty laugh that's actually fairly sincere. It also makes him... strangely pleased.

Right, this is weird. ]

It's not a weapon I use that often, but I can still teach you a thing or two. [ He reaches it out, tapping it against Stiles' own shoulder, careful to keep the blade away from him. ]

[ Stiles does bring a hand up and grip it around the shaft of the blade, holding tight--his reflexes aren't nearly as fast as, oh, Derek's, but he is still a demigod, and it brings a big, wide grin to his face as he raises his eyebrows at him. ]

By teach me a thing, you don't mean just kick my ass, do you? [ Yeah, this banter is more than edging on affectionate now. Derek's giving him that look, and actually laughing at his jokes, and wow, Stiles is a little enamored with his everything right now. ]

Why, do you want me to kick your ass? [ He doesn't try to pull the glaive free from Stiles' grip, and instead angles his head a little towards him, almost predatory. But despite the dangerous air that surrounds Derek, has been for the past week, there's nothing actually threatening about him right now. No, his question actually hints at something else entirely, in that easy banter.

Dimly, in the back of his mind, he realizes that this is extremely dangerous. The last person that made him feel something warm constrict in his chest had been a murderer, and he shouldn't be doing this.

But he still does. ]

Oooh, big bad bully. [ He can't help the way the side of his mouth lifts in a grin, a little cocky, a little more swagger than he usually has, but sometimes Stiles likes to pretend he's not a limb flailing loser, and his grip tightens a little on the glaive, heartbeat ratcheting up. ] I dunno how masochistic I'm feeling this morning.

[ He's not scared, though, threatening aura, love potion, or not. That much is for sure. ]

[ Slowly, Derek bares his teeth in a wolfish grin, because he can hear the already jackrabbit pulse pounding louder. It's not the first time he's gotten that reaction out of someone before, but it's the first time he's actually enjoyed it.

This is largely the moon's influence, just with Aphrodite's help fueling it. ]

I don't think it's bullying when I give you the option, Stiles.

I don't know, you give off a general aura of bully. [ Wow, that grin almost gives him a shiver, and he has to fight it off, instead focusing his jittery energy into squeezing on the glaive, to give it a pull forwards. Maybe if they do the training this feeling of wanting to get all up in Derek's business in an entirely different way than usual'd go away. He's totally flirting right now, and a part of him realizes it, but he's just going to shove that part far, far away. ]

Takes two to tango, though. Let's do this thing, big bad. [ It's not really a wolf aimed nickname--not one he directly means that way, anyway. ]

Centurions tend to. [ Except Derek is actually damn far from being a bully-- there's just something about Stiles that riles him up, gets him to bristle and tap into his aggression. But right now, he's more interested in following Stiles' pull, before using the glaive to pull Stiles closer to him in turn. Which is a pretty bad idea, because his scent was already broaching on overwhelming. Putting him closer just makes it worse.

The nickname gives him reason for pause, though, and he briefly hesitates even if his expression doesn't openly change. ]

[ Stiles' smartass reply--"what's a centurion again?"--is cut off abruptly as the force of gravity gets him within literally inches of Derek, hitting into the broad expanse of his chest before bouncing off a little, so they're sort of ridiculously close. If he wanted to, if he had the nerve to, he could totally lean over and kiss him. Right there.

He, however, is not letting his comeback go, so he restates it, lifting his eyes to look directly at him, mouth curving back into that sarcastic grin. ] What's a centurion again?

[ It would be so very easy for Derek to angle his head in towards him even more, close the distance between them. But he doesn't, and instead he simply watches Stiles in the close space, pushing down the sudden impulse that strikes him. He has greater control that this normally, can keep a hold on himself, but the stress and tension and now this are pushing at him.

He manages to get a reign on it before his eyes can flash red when Stiles looks at him, pushing it down. But that doesn't change the way that wolfish grin stays intact, almost growing at the corners. ] I can show you so you won't forget again.

[ Oh god, wow, okay, that's kind of really hot, and Stiles' heartbeat practically triples, and for just a second, he licks his lips, not even thinking about it. ] I dunno, I'm kinda forgetful.

[ Stiles is also ten times worse at hiding impulses, or crushes, or pretty much anything that's sort of emotional, and his gaze drops from Derek's eyes to his mouth for half a second. ]

[ Briefly, Derek's eyes flicker down to Stiles' mouth when he licks his lips, and he suddenly recalls that this is a very, very bad idea. On so very many levels, actually. Because it's moments like these where his carefully honed control could slip, nevermind his distrust and general attempt to keep people away from him.

And yet.

He looks up in time to catch Stiles looking at his mouth, and he chuffs out another deep, throaty chuckle as he adjusts their hold on the glaive to hook the shaft behind Stiles' neck. ] That's what repeated courses are for.

[ Even at the sudden pressure of the shaft of the glaive pressed to his neck, Stiles doesn't flinch, or draw away to Derek. He does look to the side though, brown eyes shifting for just a second to look at the sharp bronze edge of the blade in the morning light before turning back to look at him, searching his face and trying to understand him in just one gaze. ]

I am a pretty quick learner.

Edited 2013-07-22 06:53 (UTC)

[ Watching Stiles, almost as searching, Derek lets out a soft, rumbling hum before he angles his head in towards him. There's scant space between them, and he can essentially breathe Stiles in-- not exactly the safest thing to do when his senses are amped up the way they are-- but he doesn't close the space.

Instead, he slides his hand down along the length of the glaive before drawing back, an easy and amused smirk turning down the corners of his mouth. It's honest and there, instead of something fabricated. ]

Guess you'll have to show me that just how quick.

[ He could have sworn Derek was going to lean in there and kiss him, and Stiles' stomach does a flip, but before he gets a chance to react to it, to close his eyes and brace for it, Derek's on the glaive instead, and his eyes are pretty much glued to his hand.

Jesus. There is literally nothing in the world that could have prepared Stiles for that.

He does take in a breath, and his hand on the glaive comes across to cover his for a second, long fingers lightning fast against the top of his palm, before he pulls them away. ] I am kind of more of a tell guy on the show and tell kind of thing. [ He does grin, though, matching Derek's honest one with one of his own. ] But bring it on, big guy.

[ It's almost instant, how Derek's hand goes still beneath Stiles'. The touch itself anchors him, quick and steadfast, despite the way his hackles rise in a quiet sort of anticipation. He takes in a steadying breath, which turns into a soft sort of laugh.

He closes his eyes as he rolls his head, cracking his neck as he takes slow, easy steps back from him. The fact it's difficult is sort of worrisome, but putting space between them makes it easier to be in Stiles' space suddenly. ]

Funny, I'm more of a show guy. [ Opening his eyes again, keeping them clear, the smirk spreads just a touch. Something warm knots in his stomach with the sudden nickname, though. ] Show me what you've got.

You'll have to show me sometime. [ Oh Derek you could show him so many things. There's an undeniable push of emotion from that, though, and he slips back a little when Derek moves, taking the glaive back in his hand. He's still not used to it, but he's done a little research, studying how to use them pretty much obsessively since he'd chosen it from the armory. The problem was putting the tactics he'd learned--keep your stance low, use it like a pool cue when you get in closer, switch between the spear end and the curved blade end depending on the distance--to practice, because Stiles isn't a fighter. He's never really been one.

Either way, he lunges forward towards him, grabs a hold of the spear, and gives a first charge, pretty much leaving himself wide open. ]

[ A quick bark of a laugh, deep and straight from his chest, manages to escape him at that. But it's not derisive, and Derek's expression shifts to something more... promising. But he shifts from that to something a little more serious, the dangerous, predatory air returning beneath what's become incredibly flirtatious between the two of them. He sort of likes it better.

But he takes in how Stiles is holding the weapon, and while he doesn't utilize polearms and the like that often... well, he can tell Stiles knows it in theory, but not in practice.

Something to remedy, even if he's not a fighter. He doesn't move right away in the charge, but when he does he shifts his weight away from Stiles while reaching a hand out to grab hold of the glaive and pull. ]

[ Stiles realizes what's happening a second or two too late--Derek pulls on the glaive, and Stiles lets out a yelp as his weight gets shifted forward, the glaive yanked right out of his hands, and he manages to windmill and fall flat on his ass, left sitting there completely blindsided.

Any hopes of looking decently cool with his weapon are pretty much shot, and he swears and shakes his head, staring at the glaive in Derek's hand. ] Ow, jesus, you've gotta be kidding me. [ One freakin move? God. ]

SITUATION POST: JULY 21, 2013 (APHRODISIA)

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