Stiles started to return his gaze to the pages and stopped, heart freezing for a moment as Derek began to recite the poem back at him, picking up where he'd left off. Stiles' eyes snapped to Derek, watching his mouth, his eyes as he spoke. It was less like Derek was reciting, but it was something...different. Stiles couldn't put his finger on it. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to. He swallowed hard, blinking twice. Derek had a good voice, Stiles had known that for ages. Though he couldn't really suggest Derek do books on tape when he was always threatening Stiles with ripping his throat out with his teeth.
"It makes sense, though, right? The saddest being at the end. Endings are normally sad. At least, in real life," Stiles said slowly, nodding a little. Okay, this was all really weird, but it was interesting. Talking intellectual things with Derek Hale of all people. "And I noticed that, the way things grew more mature and darker and bloody."
Derek said how it was surreal and Stiles breathed a small chuckle and flipped back through the book, trying to find the poem he liked best. He knew it was towards the front. Derek said that they had both been dicks to each other and Stiles couldn't help himself. "Oh, yeah. Huge, huge dicks. Like, bigger than average but not intimidating, yanno?" Stiles couldn't get the shit-eating grin off his face for a moment then he found the poem he was looking for.
As he spoke, he climbed to his feet, crossing over to Derek's bed, holding the book out to him. "I think Little Beast is my favorite." He'd slid his thumb around, so he was still holding his place in the book, but Derek was able to support it, and turn the page when he needed to.