Chapter Text
It was two more days until Stiles got out of the hospital. Despite Scott's mom coming to check up on him almost every hour it was still a deathly boring experience and he was glad to be out, even if his chest hurt every time he moved. His dad rather begrudgingly said that he'd had to let Derek off with a warning, especially as Stiles had refused to make an official statement.
Now, Stiles has managed to survive all manner of supernatural attack and half his class seemed to be werewolves. But it was only in those days after the hospital that things started to get really weird. At first he thought he was just imagining it, maybe in some sort of comedown from the hospital painkillers, but it almost seemed like Derek was.... being nice to him?
It was creepy.
He first noticed it when he trundled up to the Hale house again for the first time after the attack. Someone had kindly filled in his would-be grave with an apple tree sapling which was thoughtful of them. Marking the spot in history forever. When he got out of the car, wincing a little at a tug on his ribs, Derek was like... right. there.
“What are you doing here?” he demanded, scowling (of course).
“Why yes I am feeling fine, thanks for asking. I'm here to help you moron,” he felt he'd earned the right to call Derek a moron a couple of times at least. Derek looked him up and down as if fighting some internal struggle then grunted finally,
“Bathroom needs tiling,” before stalking back into the house. Stiles was touched by his concern.
Nothing was particularly weird so far. Usual moody shit. But when he was crouched on the floor, ass in the air, pressing a tile into place he felt eyes on him and turned to see Derek in the doorway. “Good job,” he grunted, disappearing before Stiles could work out what was happening. Derek might as well have french kissed him for all the surprise Stiles felt. He even cancelled his plans to spell something rude out on the floor with different coloured tiles.
Bathroom done (and looking pretty amazing if Stiles did say so himself) Stiles started helping Isaac out repairing the roof. Because he was stupid he forgot he couldn't really grab the ladder with his left hand yet and on his third time up (yes, he was stupid) he felt the ladder wobbling beneath him only to be steadied by Derek. He climbed down gingerly and took in Derek's disapproving look.
“Uh, thanks,”
Derek grabbed his bandaged hand and inspected it roughly.
“Ow,” Stiles grabbed his hand back as Derek's finger poked a little too hard on one of the stitches, “Nurse Hale is more of a Ratchet type huh?”
“It's healing slowly,” Derek commented.
“It's healing at human rate...” Stiles said, crossing his arms defensively. “Not all of us have Werewolf powers,” And it was true that Derek had been back to his dark, glowering best just a couple of days later. And physical wounds aside Stiles still woke up six or seven times a night, gasping for air. But it wasn't being in the earth he dreamed of, it was the hospital. Too many bad memories. Derek was looking at him in a strange thoughtful way so Stiles felt it was time to disrupt whatever creepy thing was going on in his mind, “Even if we do smell alike.” He grinned at the scowl that this elicited. Much more Derek.
“What?”
“The guys told me. I smell like pack. That's why she came after me or whatever. I can't really tell. But then people with really bad BO are always the last ones to notice it.” He frowned and sniffed at his shirt. It was hard to smell anything outside of putty and ceramics. He shrugged. “I guess you guys would tell me if I smelled bad. Or we'd all smell bad together.” He felt like he'd successfully mined this vein of conversation but Derek hadn't started talking again or walked away so he was starting to feel awkward just standing there being glared at. “So... smell bad?”
“Stiles,” Isaac called down from the roof, following up his name with a whistle, “Nails!”
Stiles reached out for the box of nails that he'd placed down on the ladder when thinking he was going to plunge to his death. Derek snatched it from his hands and flung it up onto the roof. There was a thud, the clinking of loose nails showering down and some rather liberal uses of Stiles' name but when Isaac looked over the edge of the roof and saw Derek he said nothing. This moody and aggressive Derek was the one Stiles was far more comfortable with.
“So, I guess I'll just... find something else to help out with...” Stiles indicated vaguely in the way of the house, forgetting about his ribs again and biting back the stab of pain.
“Go home Stiles,” Derek snapped. And although Stiles had been thinking the same thing himself ever since nearly falling off the ladder he had a megalomania for never doing what people ordered him to do.
“I'll see what Scott's up to,” he said loftily, looking around. Derek clapped an arm around his shoulder and began to frog march him back to his Jeep and for a guy who was so concerned about his health he was really manhandling him quite roughly.
“Hey!” Stiles protested as the door of his Jeep was ripped open and he was forced inside. Derek slammed the door and stood there glowering at him. “I guess I can take a hint,” Stiles said weakly, taking out his keys and turning them in the ignition. Nothing happened. He turned them again. Still nothing. He looked up to see Derek had already popped the hood and was poking around inside his engine. “Wow, you're really invested in getting me to go,” Stiles said, winding down his window and sticking his head out. Derek was saved from having to make a response, which he wouldn't have anyway, by Stiles' phone.
“Stiles, where are you?”
“Hi dad, just hanging out with Scott,”
“Well I'm getting home early tonight so family dinner. Which means—”
“I have to cook if I'm going to stop you from getting take-out. Ok, I'll stop by the store,”
“Scott can stop by too if his mom is working.”
“Ok, thanks dad, I'll ask,”
“I don't have to worry about anything you two are getting up to do I? Please tell me you're just playing video games and not around at the Hale house. You promised me.”
“Dad, trust me,”
His father snorted and said his goodbyes, booking the family dinner in for seven. Once his phone was back in his pocket he called out, “Is there any chance you didn't hear all of that?” Derek slammed down the hood of his car, walked around, climbed in through the window, leaning across Stiles and turned the key. The Jeep sprang into life. “Hey thanks,” Derek just stepped back and glared Stiles all the way off his property.
***
So school started again and Stiles never thought he'd be so happy for the distraction. Scott had come around for dinner that night and when his dad was out of the room had awkwardly explained that Derek didn't want Stiles helping with the house anymore. He'd seemed really apologetic and promised to hang out with him loads but that felt like a whole lot of pity to Stiles. He couldn't blame Derek for not wanting to get the Sheriff pissed off he supposed and resting the last couple of weeks of summer had allowed him to heal properly, but only bodily as his mind nearly died from boredom. There was only so many times he could refresh tumblr or google the different kinds of supernatural effluvia (Wiki was a timesuck) before he was looking back fondly on being buried alive.
He got his stitches out a couple of days before school and Scott's mom told him happily that he'd be all fit for lacrosse. This didn't lift his spirits like she'd thought though as despite his last minute heroics last term the team was going to be packed with super-strong Werewolves this term and he was going to be back to sitting on the bench. Still, it would be nice to see the pack again. Scott had told him they'd finished doing up the house, now all it needed was furnishing. He hadn't been able to hide his excitement that every member of the pack had a bedroom, even if most of them were still living in their own homes. But what teenager doesn't want a secret make-out room that no parents can burst in to.
And then on the first day of school he met Megan, a very short blonde girl who was quiet and sweet. She'd meet him the hallways and would babble on almost as much as he did if you could believe that was possible. Of course his eyes were always drawn to Lydia but she was back with Jackson and seemed further out of reach than ever. When Megan asked him out he said yes. They went to the movies... to the park... to restaurants... she was nice and sweet and... completely boring. The only thing they both seemed to be passionate about was Stiles, but he wasn't enough of an egomaniac to think that was enough.
The night of the first lacrosse game came up and Stiles decided to spend his time on the bench deciding how to break up with Megan. She hated sports but had come to support him on the bench anyway. Yeah, she was just that sweet... and just that hard to break up with. But once the game started he was too engrossed in watching to think much about Megan at all. When he remembered she was there he turned to glance backwards, hoping that maybe she'd gone. Instead his eye was caught by Derek. Sitting in the crowd. Right behind him. Creepy. But... Stiles had to admit that he found the idea that Derek had come to watch his pack play kinda sweet. Especially for the likes of Isaac. But the idea of Derek being able to do anything sweet took him right back around to creepy again.
Derek saw him looking so Stiles gave a totally nerdy little wave and smile. Embarrassing. The whistle blew for half-time and as Stiles grabbed his pads and started to follow the team into the dressing room he saw a short blonde person making her way towards him. He hung back and Megan flung her arms around his neck, quite a feat for someone so short. “Hey,” he said uncertainly.
“They're doing great, huh?” she enthused. She was also really enthusiastic. They were losing.
“Stilinski!” coach yelled, “you can pet your groupies later, I need you in the changing room!”
Stiles opened his mouth to reply and found Megan taking that opportunity to kiss him. They'd only kissed a couple of times before so it was a surprise, but a nice one, and he had to be physically grabbed by the coach before Megan let go of him. Being dragged into the changing room he caught sight of Derek glowering at him. A little punch drunk still he grinned, “Geez, get a new facial expression”.
Unsurprisingly he was still on the bench second half. Derek had moved into a spot even closer, if that was possible, and as soon as Stiles sat down he pulled him backwards so that he could speak to him. “Your girlfriend?”
“Your business?” Stiles countered. He didn't try to embarrass himself by trying to get out of Derek's grip. But Derek had nothing else to say, he just huffed and let Stiles go. By the end of the match (they won) he'd just about managed to forget that Derek was there when a hand grabbed him again and pulled him backwards.
“Scott is coming over this weekend to paint.”
“Uh... okay?!” if it was an invitation it was certainly a bizarre one but he couldn't question further as when he looked around Derek was gone and Megan was bouncing towards him again.
***
The painting of the front room had gone well. Part of that might have been to do with the fact that despite the invitation Derek hadn't been present at the whole repainting party so the atmosphere had been relaxed. They were all exhausted and paint covered by the end of it. He couldn't remember who had flopped down on the covered couch first but soon they were all crammed in, a warm mass of bodies to fight off the cool night air.
Stiles woke with Isaac's head on his lap, Erica's arm draped across his chest and what he thought was Scott's foot pressing into his side. And Derek looking down on the whole lot of them with an actual goddamn smile on his face. He hid it quickly when he saw Stiles was awake but the memory of it was still there in Stiles' mind. Derek happy. Happy Derek. It didn't seem quite right.
“Hey,” Stiles whispered, attempting to stretch without waking anyone else up. Erica's arm tightened around him, “ok, I'm not getting up any time soon without any help so if you want me gone...”
“No. Stay.” Derek shook his head and looked away at the wall, “I mean... if you want,”
“Well, it is pretty comfortable here, you should try it.” Goddamn it, what the hell did that mean?
Derek blinked at him but eventually shook his head, “No, you sleep Stiles,” before leaving the room.
But it was kinda hard to sleep when you're completely confused.
***
Stiles sighed, “Just go for it...” he muttered before dialling. A sleepy voice answered on the other end of the phone, “Hey, Derek... It's Stiles... what did you do to my car that time and can you describe it to me down the phone?”
It was a bitingly cold morning and he had to be at school in a few minutes. He was desperate. And maybe he'd felt like testing the boundaries of this new not-pack-but-sorta-pack relationship.
“Crack the hood, I'll be there in ten minutes,”
“Hey, thanks man but no need--” the line went dead. Apparently the non-pack relationship was still a pretty good thing. Sure enough Derek was there in ten minutes, wrapped up in a ridiculous amount of layers. He barely grunted hello before reaching inside the car and fiddling with something for a couple of minutes. Yes that's right, an Alpha werewolf coming to his house at 7am to fix his car. He must have been carrying some serious guilt about almost getting Stiles' killed with his smell. Stiles idly wondered what else he could milk Derek for before his goodwill ran out. But then it struck him that guilt was pretty much a way of life for Derek, with what happened to his family, and he went back to feeling bad about getting Derek out to bed for his stupid car.
Derek leant further into the car, his many layers rising up as one to reveal the small of his back to the chill morning air. Stiles' eyes fixed on that small patch of skin for a moment. Then down to the strap of his belt and--
“Try it,”
“What?” Stiles blinked, his face flushing.
“The ignition,” Derek explained, exasperated.
“Oh,” Stiles stumbled into the car and turned the key. It started. Derek straightened up and closed the hood, “Thanks,” Stiles said weakly.
“It's a piece of crap,” Derek frowned.
“I know,” silence hung between them for a few moments. “You want a lift back home?”
“No, I can get there quicker on foot.”
“Well...” Stiles had nothing more to say and he found that he desperately wanted to get away from those Werewolf super senses right now, “Thanks again, bye!”
When he glanced in his rear-view mirror when driving away Derek was still standing on the drive, watching him go. Damn.
***
“Scott,” Stiles got up close to his best friend, clutching his books to his chest,
“What?” Scott mock-whispered back, amused by Stiles' demeanour.
“How much can you tell about someone by smelling them or sensing them or whatever it is you do?”
“Oh man, you don't want to know.” Scott grinned.
“No I do.” Stiles wasn't amused, “That's why I asked.”
“Oh... well... what kinds of stuff do you want to know?”
“Like... can they read... if someone, in a brief moment, tiny, minuscule might have been attracted to them?”
“Oh, Megan likes you dude.”
“Not!--” Stiles lowered his voice, “Not Megan, specifically... anyone.”
“Well. I guess so, maybe. It's complicated. You kinda have to be really paying attention. Mostly I'm just working hard to tune all that stuff out. There's only so much I want to know about some people, y'know?” he frowned, “why'd you ask?”
“No reason.” Stiles slid down into his seat to think.