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He waits through three knocks.
Then comes a fourth, and even a fifth, before the door finally opens.
"Oh no, don't mind me. I'm just out here freezing my human ass off, holding the information you growled at me to get."
Derek, unimpressed as usual, grabs the papers with a grunt.
"Really? So glad we've graduated from slamming me against things, to neanderthal grunting. That's all I've ever wanted in life."
Curiosity wins out then, as it always does with Stiles, and he strides past Derek to welcome himself inside without hesitation.
Derek's eyes glance from the exposed doorway, to where his unwelcome company is now surveying the inside of his apartment.
The inside of his apartment.
Did he miss the point in which he invited the other in?
"Nice place."
It isn't nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, and he knows it. It's just something in between everywhere else, a shelter from his abandoned train station which is now over exposed, deemed unsafe.
It was the Hale house, however, that would never not be his real home.
No matter who dared destroy it's exterior, and all of it's material possessions, the love from the heart's who had once lived there as his family, could never be taken away from him. Not really.
Shaking his head from these thoughts, Derek just know's there's a smart ass comment behind Stiles' remark, so he retaliates instead, "Nice hair."
This causes the younger man to stop, appearing thoughtful before he blinks, "Huh. Didn't think you noticed trivial things like that. You know, hair..." His eyes wander around the room, "Furniture... belongings.."
The growl that follows, makes Stiles grin, but he chooses not to bait him.
"Is that all?"
"Is that-" The small huff he makes is actually kind of endearing, "Really? I hand deliver the information you demanded, and that's all I get? 'Is that all?' Whoa. Cavemen have nothing on you."
He looks rejected, and Derek stifles a laugh at the insinuation.
Since when did Stiles Stilinski, whatever his actual name was, give two damn's about what anyone else thinks?
But alas, the teen was making his way to exit, a stormy expression darkening his bright features.
With a sigh to himself, Derek catches him by the arm, and manages to divert him in time.
"It really is nice hair."
There's a momentary pause, then a look of - horror? pleasure?- surprise, most definitely surprise, before a small smile lights up Stiles' face. And, as those same grinning eyes fall to Derek's hand gripping onto his arm, it becomes more broad.
His face becomes nothing but smile, of dancing eyes, and that hair.
"You need a plant." Once again Derek's trail of thought is broken, and confusion stalls him.
But, as usual, Stiles keeps speaking as if nothing has happened, "Maybe a cactus." He almost misses the smirk, "You can call it Junior."
As the teen leaves, Derek has a last thought while watching him tread down the hall, the door's frame scratching his bare shoulder as he leans against it;
Really? A plant?
Well.. least the hair is nice..
But.. maybe it's not the only thing that is.