Chapter Text
Scott wrinkled his nose as soon as Stiles walked into his room.
"Dude, you reek," Scott complained. Stiles frowned, lifting his arm and sniffing.
"Smells fine to me," he shrugged, plopping down spreadeagled on Scott's bed. "Your werewolf nose is making you screwy."
"No, man, seriously, you smell like…" he frowned, and Stiles took the opportunity to lob a pillow at his face.
"I smell like nothing," Stiles replied, pointing an accusatory finger at Scott, "you're just stalling so I don't cream your ass in Smash. Wow I should really not mix sayings, that sounded really weird." Scott laughed, but Stiles really did reek. He smelled like someone else. A wolf other than Scott.
"Hey," he said, tossing Stiles a controller and booting up the TV. "You've been hanging around Derek a lot?"
"Guess so," Stiles replied, propping himself up on a pillow. "He asks me to research him something, sometimes he'll come over for dinner with my dad, sometimes he invites me over. Y'know, friend stuff." Scott felt himself holding back a growl, and he took a deep breath, which only hit him in the face with more of Derek's smell.
"You're friends with him?" Scott asked.
"Yeah," Stiles said, looking wary. "You don't… like, hate him or anything, right? We're over the animosity and alpha-werewolf pissing contests?" Scott didn't hide his growl as well as he'd thought.
"Yeah," he said, voice slightly strained. He was once again Stiles didn't have werewolf senses. "All good between me and Derek." Stiles nodded slowly.
"Well, lets get to the ass-creaming!" he said brightly after a moment, a slightly awkward smile on his face.
"Oh my God, dude," Scott laughed, getting payback by throwing a pillow at Stiles. "You are not making that a thing. If you say that around anyone, ever, you will be made fun of so hard."
"A small price to play for the development of English."
Stiles was asleep now, and Scott was… not. All he could smell on Stiles was Derek, and it was making him very antsy. He grumbled softly, and wiggled forward, wrapping his arms tightly around Stiles' middle. Scott pressed his face forward, rubbing his face into Stiles' back, his hair, his neck, his shoulders, anywhere Scott could reach. His hands were moving over Stiles as well, rubbing up under his shirt and down his hips, rubbing Scott's scent all over his best friend. Scott took a deep inhale, and smiled against Stiles' neck. He smelled right now. Like pack. Like Scott.
His wolf preened, and Scott cuddled closer to Stiles. He was too tired and satisfied to think about how weird and possessive he was acting over his friend.
Stiles and Scott woke the next morning, tangled in the sheets and each other. Stiles yawned widely and stretched.
"Morning, Scotty," he said brightly, shoving at the mass of muscular werewolf on top of him. "Mind getting up so we can get breakfast?" Scott jolted lightly, and scrambled off of Stiles, still tangled in the sheets, and fell on his ass. Stiles burst out laughing, sliding off the bed.
"Graceful," he said, digging in his bag for fresh clothes. "Pre-bite levels of graceful."
"Thanks," Scott replied flatly, staring up at the ceiling.
"But of course," Stiles grinned back, already halfway out of Scott's room. "You want scrambled eggs?" Scott held up a halfhearted thumbs up. "Cool."
Scott laid there for a few more minutes, contemplating his life. He stumbled down the stairs, following the scent of cooking eggs and fresh fruit.
"Hey," Scott greeted, sitting down on one of the bar stools at the kitchen island.
"Hello hello," Stiles replied, scooping some cheesy scrambled eggs onto a plate and handing it to Scott. "Want toast?"
"Yeah," Scott nodded. This felt… weirdly domestic, with Stiles smelling like him. This was weird, this was too weird, he never should have marked Stiles like that. It wasn't like Derek was staking a claim on Stiles, it was just natural that Stiles would smell like Derek if he was spending time with him. God, what if someone in his pack—or worse, Derek's—caught the scent? Intentional marking smells different from just being around someone…
Scott was pulled from his spiral by the front door opening.
"I smell eggs," she called out into the house, meandering inside.
"And fruit, and toast!" Stiles called back. "Hi, Mrs. McCall! I think you've got some frozen sausage patties in the freezer, too if you want."
"What a little gentleman," she teased, sitting beside Scott. "I'd love some eggs and fruit." Stiles nodded, scooping some eggs onto Melissa's plate and pushing the bowl of fruit toward her.
"Coffee?" he asked, pouring some for himself.
"No, I'm gonna try to grab some sleep after breakfast."
"Rough shift?" Scott asked, munching on his own eggs.
"Little bit," his mom sighed. "Some tough patients." Scott and Stiles nodded along with her. "Well," she said, "thank you for the eggs, Stiles, but I'm gonna go to bed. Try to keep it down, okay?" Stiles saluted.
"Absolutely. Love you, mom." Mrs. McCall ruffled his hair and headed upstairs.
"Hey," Stiles said while they were cleaning up breakfast. "I was thinking, we should go to Derek's—" Scott cut him off with a possessive growl he wasn't even aware was happening until Stiles was raising an eyebrow at him. "Thought we were over the Derek-hate?" he questioned.
"We are," Scott replied. "We are! I promise! We can… go to stupid Derek's house, it's fine."
"Just because I don't have werewolf senses doesn't mean I can't hear mumbling, Scott," Stiles reprimanded. "Come on, I wanna check out the library, Derek said they got a bunch of books recently about the fae realm." Scott took a deep breath, and Stiles' scent mixed with Scott's. filled his nose, calming him.
"Fine," Scott acquiesced, scowling. "But you owe me."
"God, quit being weird about Derek," Stiles reprimanded, leading his way off to his jeep. "Seriously, man, you gotta learn to coexist, or I'm gonna have to, like, chain you up whenever I wanna talk about Derek, or whatever."
"Oh, my God," Scott mumbled, sliding into the jeep while Stiles clambered into the driver's seat. "I told you! I don't care about Derek! It's fine!" Stiles gave him a look. "Shut your face and drive."