DESCRIPTION
Independent canon divergent roleplay blog for Derek Hale.

Mun 25. NSFW & triggering content can be found here. Tags will be used but read mores will not. Read the rules.

Tracking: triskelion
Written by Satan.
Skype: aequitas.murph
Previously: caringxnature

Other blogs:
Stiles Stilinski-Teller
Peter Hale

Artwork found HERE & HERE.

sarcastiiles:

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Some people. Stiles knew exactly who the guest had been thinking of behind those words. Some of their co-workers were careless, easy… And he refused to think that maybe his brother fell into that kind of category. He gave a nod, waited for the older man to order before asking for the same for himself. At least it was only half the alcohol of their typical drinks; simple, quick, and no one said he needed to finish it. “I don’t usually drink much,” he explained. That was more Sloan’s territory, after all. “You, uh… You should tell me a little more about yourself. Like how long you’ve been coming here? How you… Knew my name? At least I can say I’ve heard about you, and not have to worry about confusing you with a twin. Some of the people we work with still can’t tell the two of us apart…” They’d been getting better at it, of course, and the ‘usual’ clients that hung around them had probably noticed the drinking habits between the two. Though, he could never be too sure just what it was that Derek had picked up on… And if he had – why hadn’t he looked for Sloan that night instead of himself? “You don’t have to tell me,” he quickly corrected. “I’m just rambling.”

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                   Derek catches himself watching digits settling on the bend of Stiles’ knee, thumb flicking back and forth as he listened to the rambling and questions. Talkative for certain but Hale liked that – liked how close he could get without it being somewhat off-putting. Plenty in the club had a thing about space upfront, Jeremy and Kira not being among them. Respect is always key. After a moment, the man offers a nod and lets his eyes shift back to gentle features with just the right kind of harshness to them, lingering from the club lighting that flickers with the beat every now and again. “Well, it was actually a little easy. For one, you aren’t wearing a security shirt.” Derek lets out, the hand settled on the young man’s hip plucks at the shirt gently for emphasis. “Second, your breath doesn’t smell like alcohol – not that it would be a bad thing. I’ve been coming here for six years, it’s easy to pick up on the differences of employees. Not to mention I get to hear all the gossip floating around. From what I’ve heard, your brother likes to get a little more wild when he isn’t working security. Deduction lead me to believe minus the shirt, booze, and party frat boy demeanor – you aren’t him.” It all comes out in an even string of sentences, voice a little louder when the music picks up. They are momentarily interrupted with drinks offered over from the waiter but Derek notes a remark that must be made, though far from urgent. After a quick sip, he leans towards an ear. “I was looking for something more… calm tonight. Maybe another time you can introduce me to your brother but for now, I just want you.”

OP