rubycity_ooc | it's a beautiful niiight

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meme

it's a beautiful niiight

Do you remember how we all bid ridiculous amounts of money on dates for each other once upon a time?

Time to put up or shut up.
THE ~~forcedish~~ DATE MEME

Feeling romantic? Take your date to the top of the clocktower and look at the stars. Feeling like a quickie? The Black Stallion has all your alcohol fueled needs. Wanting a quaint date leaning over a table? Le Cafe Anglais and the Coffee Joint will help you make your dreams come true. Or, just wine and dine your date at home. Whatever it is, be creative.

You paid for this, after all!

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Most dates don't tend to include us. [ And Derek totally said the D word back. This is going to be a long day, but he doesn't mind too much. It's going to be interesting, and hopefully it's not long in the worst ways.

Staying still to let Stiles do as he pleases, he turns as he stops, brows raising as he considers how exactly to go about this whole thing. Shrugging a shoulder, he moves to follow after him, closing the door behind himself before considering his answer. He's been up for a while, of course, so he's got quite a bit planned. ]

The northeastern watchtower.

We have watchtowers? [ Super smooth, Stilinski. You're 0 for like 6 already and this literally just started. Fidgeting a little nervously, he goes to open the door and holds out his arm, being kind of (really) ridiculous. There's not that much different than usual aside from...you know, the whole romantic implications thing, so he just needs to. Relax. Act normal.

Doesn't stop him from running his arm into the doorframe on the way out though. ] Ow, jesus. [ But he does push his way out at least and stand a little outside the house, gesturing out into the city. ] Lead the way, wolfman.

We have watchtowers. Four of them. [ So smooth. Derek isn't surprised, though, given the fact that he's the one that goes on a constant patrol and Stiles isn't. He knows where all the random locations are, especially the ones that would lead to perfect lookouts in the event of a problem.

Or somewhere to act as a retreat.

Squinting an eye in a wince, he refrains from commenting and simply exits the house, closing that door behind him as well. He reaches a hand out, turning Stiles with gentle pressure between his shoulder blades-- so normal by this point he doesn't even think about the implications of just how normal it's become-- so they can go the right way. ]

Not all of us go on late night walkies all the time, okay. [ There we go, the banter's at least normal. Same with the hand on his shoulderblades--even with the added tension, it's easy enough to lean backwards into his hand and walk with him.

If you take away the whole date part, everything's just about the same. (Which is kind of embarrassing in it's own right--jesus, is it really that bad?)

It's a really nice night, at least; the city's mostly quiet, blissfully free of monsters after the nightmare that was the last couple of weeks. Stiles looks around a little, sharp brown eyes observing the city at large--people milling on the streets, the creepy victorianesque buildings, everything.

And no spying werewolves to be found, either. ]

It's a good way to deal with not being able to sleep. [ And the constant paranoia of something happening-- valid, here-- but that's not the point right now. The point is that he just knows where the landmarks are all situated, and the one watchtower in question is probably the one in the best condition.

It's easy to just fall into the banter, to just walk with him like this, because it's so far from strange for them. When that happened, he doesn't know, but it's... it's not really that bad. (It really is that bad, but not bad.)

Even though there's no sign of monsters or pack, Derek is still on alert for both, since they do have a tendency to pop out at the most inopportune times. But he's at ease, different from how he usually is outside of the house. So he can just let his hand shift, set against his lower back fora moment. ]

Or your canine tendencies, whichever you prefer. [ He doesn't react to Derek putting his hand on his lower back--or, at least not visibly--but does swallow his butterflies the best he can, looking over at Derek with a slight, wry grin on his face.

And then Stiles does what he does best when faced with situations he doesn't quite know how to deal with: he talks. A lot. ]

Why the hell does this place have watchtowers, anyway. You know what else has watchtowers? Prisons. Which is an obscenely accurate description for this place.

Edited 2013-07-17 02:34 (UTC)

[ Rolling his eyes at that, he resists the urge to push him over in response to that. Instead, he keeps his attention ahead, briefly wondering exactly how old the city is considering the state of the watchtowers. There's no records for the city, of course, but there has to be a way to find out the history of the place.

Coking his head to the side, Derek purses his lips into a thin line (mostly to hide his amusement). ]

Because there used to be a more intact perimeter around the city, so it was probably even more like a prison before the people that're here started to arrive.

It's like one of the most frustrating things about this stupid place, that there's no actual records. I bet it was a prison. I mean hell, have you tried some of the food around here? Prison food. [ He waves his hands around in a gesture, moving with his words, hands finally out of his pockets. He's already relaxing, because this is normal. ]

I'm going to pretend it was a prison, maybe that'll make me feel better about being stuck here forever. [ The watchtowers just a little ahead, and he stares up at it, wondering what the hell this could possibly entail. ]

There's a reason why I only eat what the pack makes. [ Largely what he or Stiles make, honestly, considering how often they're the ones to cook. But he's made an exception, just this once, because it means dropping a surprise on Stiles instead of having to dodge around him.

Though he does lean his head away a little to make sure that he doesn't accidentally get hit as the teenager gesticulates. ]

I don't know how that'd make you feel better about being stuck here. [ He raises a brow, but he nods his head towards the archway into the spiral staircase. ]

What I make. [ He grins and jabs Derek in the side with the elbow playfully, plenty pleased with himself. One of the things he'd poured himself into after his mom died was learning to cook everything she cooked, and it was kind of a useless talent up until moving into the city, but now it's something he's pretty proud of.

Stiles follows him up the staircase, peering over his shoulder none too conspicuously. ] So, stairs, huh. Finally learned how to use them like a bipedal.

What you and I make. [ He accepts being jabbed at, used to it by now, and simply makes his way up the stairs. It's a bit of a trek up, and he makes sure he doesn't misstep on the way, letting Stiles follow him to keep from tripping on anything (hopefully).

With the verbal jab, however, Derek snorts softly and looks back at him. ] Are you going to make a habit of pointing out every single time I utilize a staircase?

Really not helping to stop perpetuating the parent stereotype. [ Wow this is a lot of stairs, isn't it. The problem with not being a lycanthrope is that Stiles doesn't happen to have super strength and stamina, so he stumbles up the stairs behind Derek until they get to the top, and he may or maynot be breathing a little hard. Shut up. ]

Aaabsolutely, because it surprises me every...single time.

[ When they get to the top of the stairs, Stiles is downright obvious in the way he's standing over his toes to try and make sure he can see over Derek's gargantuan shoulders. ]

Like it's going to get any better anyways. [ What, he's not going to comment on the whole humanity thing. It's not like it's a problem or anything-- Stiles manages to keep up pretty damn well on his own, without lycanthropy. He's perfectly fine, of course, but that's because he's both Derek Hale and a werewolf.

Rolling his eyes at the way he's rocked up to his toes to try and see everything, he decides to do him a favor and step out of the way. It's not like he was stupid enough to leave anything intended to be a surprise out in the open, but at least this way he can get a good view of the rest of the city. ]

[ Stiles' mouth does in fact drop open at the view, and Stiles ducks out from behind Derek when he moves, hurrying to the remains of the windowsill and leaning over it to look out at the city. He lets out a long, low whistle, practically hanging out of the edge to try and get the full view. It's undeniable, the place is gorgeous from afar--all brick buildings and low lights, a city without the remarkably huge brightness that Beacon Hills manages, just like its namesake. ] That is a view.

However, the brick does crumble under his hand, and Stiles yelps and jumps backwards, ambling back a few steps. ] And also a death trap, holy shit.

[ Derek is quietly pleased with the reaction, letting Stiles slip past him to investigate. He's a little wary of him being so close to a rather precarious spot, but he puts a little faith in Stiles to not just outright slip on the remnants of the brick as he just... watches Stiles, instead of looking out with him or getting where he tucked away the things he brought up.

And then of course Stiles' luck strikes again.

He reaches out to curl his fingers in the folded portion of his flannel's sleeve, as if to make sure he stays away from falling through the window. ] Yeah, please don't fall out.

[ Shaking his hand out, Stiles shoots a glare at the windowsill because he has the emotional maturity of a five year old and backs up safe out of the way of the weak structure. ] Dying would probably put a damper on things.

[ He lets Derek put his hand on his shirt, doesn't even a little flinch away; in fact, he leans into his touch just a little naturally, like he was supposed to be there all along.

And he doesn't deny the fact that that would, you know, damper their date. Because this is actually a date. ]

[ Snorting softly at the glare, Derek slips his hand a little lower to curl his fingers at his elbow once he's sure that the teenager isn't about to go anywhere. It's comfortable and easy, and he tips his head towards Stiles with raised brows. ] Probably?

[ With a little squeeze, he steps around and away from him, going to where he tucked away something and retrieving it. There's plenty of good hiding places up here, and he turns to face him again with a bag, wiggling it a little. ]

Guess I'd have to eat all of these myself. [ Guess what that smell is, Stiles. ]

Oh my god, dude, no. [ No you totally didn't. He jerks his head back a little like he can't even believe that Derek somehow managed to get a hold of some kind of greasy fried fast food goodness, and it's definitely undeniable that he's grinning. Like a loon.

Reaching for the bag, he plops down on the floor. ] I may fall in love with you yet. [ That was dry as the desert, but there is like a lot of truth behind it, and he feels his ears burn. Jesus. ] Bon appetit.

[ It had taken a bit of investigating, a lot of dodging around Dean Winchester because the Black Stallion had the best means for which to procure the food in the bag, but Derek did. His main goal had been the curly fries, but he'd talked enough with Stiles, cooked alongside him enough times, to know what he liked most.

Ignoring the joking honesty, the sound of Stiles' jackrabbit heart, he moves to sit down with him. It doesn't matter that the floor is dusty or anything, they've dealt with worse, but it's a good view. ] It might wind up being a tie between me and the curly fries, I don't know.

And Scott, and my dad. It's a battle for my affection. [ Stiles shoots him a smile that's all affection, and promptly starts to dig in, making a noise that's probably a little inappropriate for french fries and absolutely stuffing his face. ]

Tho', thith ith romantic. [ ...he's being a goofball on purpose. Really. ]

Good to know where my competition lies. [ That's definitely dry, but not in the least bit sarcastic surprisingly enough. And in response to the smile, Derek actually drops his eyes down to the bag and away from the teen, chuffing a soft laugh before he reaches and takes some of the fries, mostly using it as a distraction.

He does look up under his brow at Stiles again, though. ] About as romantic as would be possible for us.

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