"I'll put whatever I want on you," Stiles mutters, rebelliously.
When Derek disappears, he manages to get to his feet, and lets the t-shirt drop, exchanging it for a towel, that he wraps around his hips. He rubs his face, and stands in front of the sink, hands on either side, staring into the mirror.
When Derek returns, a few moments later, he's still staring.
He hears Derek's words--his orders--and then shakes his head slowly.
"Yeah, I'm not...." He pauses, purses his lips, meets Derek's gaze in the mirror. "I'm not entirely sure why that is." If he was a werewolf, he'd think it was because Derek's an Alpha. His Alpha. But he's not, so that can't be it, right?
"Derek...." The word is a plea as much as a question.