Distance [Derek Hale]

Chapter Twenty-Two

Entering the bedroom section of the open plan loft, his eyes filled with amusement as he saw that Margo still hadn't moved from where he'd left her. She was lying on her stomach holding the pillow as if it were a body. She wasn't necessarily asleep, but she had her eyes closed allowing the warm sun to break through the window and settle on her bareback. The duvet was hanging dangerously low, but somehow everything was kept modest.

"Are you planning on getting dressed at all today?" Derek asked amused, crossing his arms as he did. She didn't open her eyes as she spoke.

"Do I have to? I'm tired," She droned and he pressed his lips together tilting his head to the side by the slightest degree as he knelt down onto the bed beside her. She felt the dip in the bed and she opened her eyes bringing the duvet closer up to her chest as she turned around to meet his eyes. Hers were incandescent with happiness and a lazy smile on her face.

A smirk formed on his own face feeling slightly smug as his ego was fed, "so you're saying that last night was too much?" He asked as he lay down against the headboard. She rolled her eyes shifting so that she could use him as a pillow.

"I'm saying you could put rabbits to shame," she joked and he released a breath. Everything still felt so unreal to him. Seven years waiting and finally, they were together in a way that he wanted them to be. It took seven years and some part of him thought it wasn't going to happen at all. Wrapping one arm around her bareback and shoulders, he brought his other to caress his face and his touch was so gentle as if her skin was the most delicate and beautiful thing that could ever have existed. To him, it was. Not even thinking about it, he leant down until his lips met hers and she returned the kiss with just as much love.

"I suppose we can stay here for another ten minutes..."

"Make it an hour," she corrected as she closed her eyes resting her head on his shoulder in the crook of his neck. Just like that their hearts became sun for a few fleeting moments.

"I'm just saying, this new trend of hating the word moist is pissing me off," she said waving the whisk around which was vaguely pointed at Derek. He was sat at the kitchen island an amused smile on his face and he had a book in front of him on the table but he wasn't actually reading it. She, on the other hand, was now dressed although she's stolen one of his grey henley t-shirts and had paired it with a pair of blue jeans that had been rolled up at the bottom and was leaning against the kitchen counter. Behind her was a mixing bowl with a half-made chocolate cake batter and a few of the ingredients that she hadn't used yet were crowded around the bowl ready to take their place. "Like If I bake a perfectly good cake...how am I meant to describe the perfectly good cake. Moist is the only word that fits."

"There are many other words that you could use to describe a cake," he countered.

She crossed her arms narrowing her eyes as she watched him carefully, "what like juicy? Would you eat a juicy cake? Because to me, a juicy cake is a lava cake or something that has caramel or chocolate sauce seeping out of it and so if I bit into a moist cake that was described as juicy I would be left very disappointed that it's not juicy it's just moist."

"Have you googled synonyms for moist...?"

"I have. You wanna know what they are? Wet. Humid. Damp. Soggy. Would you eat a soggy cake? Would you?" She asked and he winced with his eyes lit up with humour. It was hard not to find conversations like this amusing even though they happened so often. They were the type of conversations that you wonder why they were so serious and why they were so passionate about the subject and yet all at the same time you completely understood.