Stiles stepped in, wringing his hands and licking his lips as he looked around, everything felt… weird here… like he was a stranger, and sure Derek’s home had never been all that inviting in general- not the Hale house or certainly the train station but.. the loft had been kind of ok… even this new place was alright enough- but it had never felt like Stiles was an INTRUDER the way he felt now
“You know,” he said absently, glancing around, trying to absorb everything with his newly heightened senses, all of the sights and smells, vibrations and sounds… it was so overwelming to be anywhere now…. “I don’t get why all of those movies have vampires going ‘Ew werewolves stink’, it smells…. good in here,” to put it freaking mildly
“YOU smell good, kind of… delicious… actually,”
His throat was dry, he needed to stop, he should go….. but…
But Stiles had never been great at self-control or forcing himself to do things, so he stepped closer, eyes on the floor, not wanting to meet Derek’s gaze, hyper-aware of the fact that Derek was incredibly tense, like he was standing in front of an enemy, and wolves percieved eye contact as a challenge right?
Stiles didn’t want to challenge, hell if it would make Derek ok with him again he was prepared to roll over and submit
“Do I smell as bad as werewolves usually say … we do? In movies? It’s gonna suck worse than anything if I’m freinds with all of these wolves and just stink for the rest of my life, I’ll have to buy a stronger deodorant,”
It was a joke (Not really) but it had no humor to it, it was just… flat, empty, alot like how Stiles had felt since all of this began- well, after the panic and devastation faded away anyhow…
Derek stayed tense as he watched Stiles, his instincts grating at the intrusion into his space. Nothing about Stiles’ appearance was threatening – his wringing hands and slumped shoulders almost enough to get Derek’s guard down. And he knew Stiles wasn’t a threat, not really. This wasn’t some horror movie or 90′s drama, where you turned and lost all semblance of humanity. Stiles’ instincts might have changed some – the bloodlust and the new power reworking the way he viewed the world – but he was no less himself than Scott or Isaac had been once they became betas. He was still Stiles, still the person Derek had grown to know and trust.
At least, that’s what Deaton had assured them.
But the power pouring off Stiles was almost palpable, a low constant thrumming over Derek’s senses. Like waves lapping at his ankles, working to draw him in easy. He had to keep his guard up, because so much about Stiles was screaming for him not to.
The question, so far from what he’d just been thinking, startled a laugh from Derek.
“I thought you would smell like death, but…” He finally looked away, falling a slow step back. “I guess your kind wouldn’t be able to lure people in if they weren’t enticing.”