Chapter Text
The scream was cut off before it even began, a hand slamming up into his mouth while teeth clamped down. Considering how much practice he’s had with nightmares, Stiles can at least be thankful he’s now able to catch his screams like…fifty percent of the time when waking up. He’d like it to be higher, so he could stop waking his father with his nightmares, but being able to catch at least some of them allows him to not wake his father every night.
Grimacing at the sweat coating his skin and the sticking of his clothes, Stiles pushed himself out from beneath his covers. Glancing at the time, red letters blared 5:13am. Well, at least he slept most of the night, and yes it counts even if he didn’t go to sleep until two in the morning. Besides, he would get up in about two hours to get ready for school anyway.
Gathering up clothes to change into, Stiles made his way to the bathroom for a quick shower before his dad would be up and moving. He avoided the mirror, not wanting to risk seeing the shadows under his eyes, not wanting to see his face - and that was a line of thought he was quickly cutting off. It was too early for a panic attack.
Stiles stumbled his way downstairs and into the kitchen. Soon coffee was brewing while he started whipping up a simple breakfast to keep his mind off of everything he didn’t want to touch with a six-foot pole.
“You’re up early.”
Stiles jumped, one hand gripping the counter while the other flew to his chest as he spun around.
“Hey, daddio. Breakfast will be ready in a few more minutes assuming I don’t die of the heart attack you just gave me.”
His father raised one eyebrow at him, but it only seemed to add to the weight his concerned gaze had as it looked him over. Stiles resisted the urge to turn away and hide the bags he knew were under his red eyes. It would just make his dad push harder and worry more, and after everything Stiles had done in the past weeks the least he could do is not make him worry more .
“Did you even go to sleep last night?”
“I did, in fact, go to sleep. I just happened to wake up early.” Stiles replied, turning back to the stovetop. Absently, he noticed that there were four scratches in the countertop where his hand was just placed. Weird. Stiles didn’t think those were there yesterday, but then again, he’s been rather sleep deprived for a while now and before that there was the whole possession situation. It kind of looked like when one of the ‘wolves accidentally cut something with their claws. Maybe they did it when they were looking for him back when the Nogitsune was-NOPE, he’s stopping that train of thought right now and, oh, hey, his dad was talking to him.
“Stiles, are you listening to me?”
“Hm? Sorry, pops, was making sure these eggs didn’t burn. And, yes, I did, in fact, sleep through the night.”
“Oh, that’s good.” His father paused. “Did you…have any nightmares?”
Stiles slumped a bit. He could see the fragile hope in his dad’s eyes that, for once, Stiles made it through the night without any nightmares. Sure, it’s happened recently, but only when Stiles passed out from exhaustion after multiple days of little sleep and nightmares.
“Ah, nope, at least, nothing that stuck with me.” Stiles lied, not that it changed anything. The nightmare was nothing new, and if he could try to make his dad feel a little better he would.
Not that his dad looked particularly convinced, but he didn’t push so Stiles counted it as a win. He served up breakfast and the two of them ate mostly in silence. Soon, his dad was getting up to leave for work, but not before turning to pull Stiles into a tight hug.
When he pulled back, he looked his son in the eye’s while keeping his hands on his shoulders. “Have a good day at school. If you need anything, or if anything happens, give me a call, alright?”
Stiles huffed. “I know, dad, you say this every time.”
“I know, I just…” He didn’t need to say more. They both knew the worry and fear caused by the Nogitsune wasn’t going away anytime soon.
“I know.” Stiles replied. “You too, though. Stay safe. I packed your lunch by the way, and don’t think about trying to order in for lunch. I will know!”
His dad laughed as he left, and Stiles felt a little better. He finished cleaning up the results of breakfast and then getting ready for school, but he couldn’t help his eyes drifting to the marks in the counter top.
Stiles had to resist the urge to just stay outside in his car until the bell rang. As much as he really, really wanted to, he also knew that that would be back tracking and it wouldn’t be long until the school or Scott were calling his dad to ask if he was okay.
He knew he wouldn’t get in trouble. The school is being fairly lenient on absences right now, what with everything that had happened. Stiles didn’t even have to worry about missing school following the defeat of the Nogitsune because school was canceled for 2 weeks. Between the bomb threats, Coach getting shot, and then the following attacks on the hospital and sheriff’s department, the town was worry about having large groups of people in one area for a while. That, and the fact that they wanted student’s to be able to cope with any possible impact this might have had, especially if any of their family members were lost in the two largest attacks.
(There were so many funerals and memorials in those two weeks. Allison’s was one of them. Stiles almost didn’t go, and he knew no one would blame him since he was still recovering himself. Hell, he didn’t even remember the first 72 hours because he was so out of it since he had to recover from sleep exhaustion, malnourishment, and the whole almost dying due to being-possessed-turned-to-living-battery thing. But he went, he had to.)
The official story was that some crazy cult/gang-like group of individuals wanted to cause trouble in town. The way they explain Stiles’ involvement is that the group started with terrorizing him before moving on to kidnapping to hopefully keep control over the sheriff by threatening a loved one.
This explanation helped Stiles return to school slowly. As much as he wanted to just…go back to normal, he couldn’t deny being able to take a half-day after everyone kept staring at him (accusing him, knowing he hurt all these people) was helpful. And that’s how most of last week went without counting the fact that he didn’t go on Monday or Tuesday.
But, he was able to do a full day of school yesterday (with lots of hiding in bathrooms but details), damnit. He can do it today.
So he grabs his bag and hulls himself into the school hallways. Immediately, he frowns when people turn to look at him. They try to be inconspicuous, but none of these people seem to know how to whisper quietly. That had sent him home last week, hearing their whispers so clearly he thought the hallucinations were back. Instead, Lydia came to him and calmly explained that, considering what he went through, the combination of sleep exhaustion and trauma has most likely heightened some of his senses. Stiles joked that if this is what werewolf hearing was like, then he didn’t understand how they survived the passing period.
“Hey, Stiles!” Scott was quick to attack himself to his side, and Stiles couldn’t help the way his shoulders relaxed a bit. After everything, he really thought Scott wouldn’t want to see him. Hell, he didn’t think any of his friends would want to see him considering it would be his face in their nightmares. Turns out, he was wrong. They all checked in with each other just as much as they checked in with him. Some days they would come over to his house (Melissa put him on strict bedrest), and they would talk or just sit in silence. The first 24 hours, so Stiles has been told, none of them would leave each other’s sight. Eventually, they all started returning to their own homes to cope and grieve in their own ways.
Scott had been the last to go. He said that he needed to know Stiles was okay. It didn’t help that Melissa wanted to know he was recovering so that first week saw the two staying with him before Stiles finally convinced them to go back to their own home to rest up.
He actually doesn’t know how he won that argument.
The bell ringing jars him from his thoughts, one of his hands coming up to cover an ear. He could see Scott looking at him empathetically, letting the ringing die away before talking. “You ok?”
“Yeah, just…still sensitive, I guess.” If not more sensitive. God, that was even worse than yesterday.
“Well, considering you don’t look like you’ve improved your sleep schedule any, I doubt it would’ve improved.” Lydia chimes in from wherever she popped up, Malia at her shoulder.
“I thought my mom got you something to help you sleep?”
Stiles shrugged. “Hasn’t seemed to help really.” Not exactly a lie. He’d sleep, but he doesn’t like the way the groggy-ness messes with his mind when he’s awake. So he just…stopped taking them a week ago. “And I’ll have you know, I actually slept last night. Plus, this means I can just sleep in the boring classes.”
“You say that like they’d let you get away with that forever.” Scott laughed.
“Don’t you know, Scott? I was a kidnapped hostage of a crazy cult. Even Coach would be hesitant to yell at me.”
“How long are you gonna keep milking that, Stilinski?” Isaac asked as he walked past the group.
“As long as I want to.” Stiles shot back, casually ducking the hand coming to swat him in the back of his head. “Are we gonna see you at lunch later?”
Isaac paused, his eyes jumping from Stiles to the rest of the group before looking away. Outside of Ethan, Isaac was the only other member of their group within the school who was still keeping some distance. Stiles didn’t blame him. He did get his girlfriends killed and Isaac himself electrocuted. Personally, Stiles wouldn’t blame the guy for wanting to get away from them all. (Especially Stiles. God, he can’t imagine how many nightmares he’s appeared in for the others. Probably enough he could start petitioning for a role with Freddy Kreuger.)
To his surprise, though, Stiles wasn’t the one Isaac was avoiding. Scott had given him a run down about what happened when…when Allison was…well, her last words were basically a love letter to Scott, so it was obvious to Stiles that it was Scott that Isaac was really avoiding. Which…Stiles couldn’t really blame him for that. He knew Scott was feeling hurt that the younger ‘wolf was avoiding him but Stiles said that at least he was still here . Everyone had so many reasons to run from Beacon Hills as fast as their wolfy feet or expensive cars could take them, but instead they were sticking around.
They were still pack.
So as Isaac met Stiles’ eyes and mumbled out a “maybe”, he didn’t push. For now at least. At some point, though, he may be locking him and Scott in a room together.
Alright, he really didn’t know how the ‘wolves dealt with this. Sure, he knew that they had practice with honing their senses and all that jazz but if this was what his oversensitive human senses had to deal with, then man he hopes he never becomes a werewolf.
Because Stiles thought the passing period bells was the worst thing he had to deal with, but NOPE! It’s like his hearing has been getting progressively more and more sensitive as the day goes on. From people writing in their notebooks to the shuffle of feet in the hallway behind a closed door . When Scott would lean in to check on him, Stiles struggled to focus on his voice through the cacophony of the school. God forbid they suddenly had a group discussion. Stiles couldn’t tell you what the person right next to him said, but he could tell you what the group on the other side of the room was deciding to talk about.
Part of him wanted to call his dad and get him out of school. The other part of him said to push through it because if he could do it yesterday, then what was so different about today? He was just as sleep deprived and in recovery as yesterday.
But as he approached the cafeteria with his friends, the voices of his peers hit him like a wave, threatening to drag him under. Speckled in between was the scrape of chairs, lunch trays, and the opening of wrappers. Someone just took a large bite with a loud crunch that’s promptly followed by chewing .
“Stiles?” Lydia asked as he paused in the doorway of the cafeteria.
“I’m fine, it's just…it’s so loud.” He should have thought about this more. He hasn’t been back in the cafeteria yet, and he should have known it would be loud and overwhelming, god even the smells were starting to get to him. “How the hell do you guys do this every day?”
“We don’t have to eat in the cafeteria.” Scott proposed. “We could go somewhere else.”
“Still gotta get the food.” Stiles huffed.
“Try focusing on one sound.” Lydia said. “Jackson said that helped him.”
“Right, focus on one sound. Makes sense. Actually, I think I told Scott that when he…” Stiles paused as her words registered. “Jackson? You’re talking to Jackson? When did you start talking to that Jack-ass again? And why about his senses? Unless this is from before he left because he’s supposed to be in London, right? Fulfilling that cliche-”
“Stiles, shut up and focus.”
“Right, right, focus, my strong suit.” But he tried. He tried to focus on one sound that didn’t feel like it would gouge out his brain. Whispers reached him, talking about him and he had to quickly move on before he could latch onto any rumors that would send him spiraling. He tried to listen past the chewing and scraping. Hell, he even tried to listen to his friends next to him, maybe Kira and her calm breathing but it felt like he couldn’t latch on to anything -!
There.
He twitched as he seemed to focus on one sound. At first, it wasn’t clear - muffled by the waves of students - but then he registered it. It was a buzzing sound. The buzz of a dying light somewhere in this room. It buzzed and buzzed and Stiles struggled to figure out why such a sound had pulled him to it until it clicked.
It was like a fly.
He gasped, eyes opening and jolting away from the doorway of the cafeteria. “I can’t- I need a minute-!”
Stiles did not stay long enough to say more, twisting on his feet and allowing them to carry him to the second nearest bathroom. (He learned that if it was the nearest, then he was more likely to run into someone and he just needed to be alone .)
So he slammed into the bathroom that was, thankfully, empty. His bag flopped onto the floor and he was sure he would follow if it wasn’t for gripping onto the nearest sink.
“Breathe, Stiles, just breathe.” He told himself. “You-You’ve done this before.” Habitually, Stiles allowed his fingers to each lift individually from the sink, whispering the number for each under his ragged breath.
Ten. There were ten fingers.
“This would suck if I ever lost a finger.” Stiles joked to himself, feeling just a little more grounded. Gathered more air into his chest, slowly breathing it in and out a few times before allowing himself to look up.
Black eyes met his own in the mirror.
Stiles flung himself away, hands coming up to cover his eyes and grab sharply at the hair on his head. The pinpricks of pain did nothing to help calm him down, however, because he knew that the pain could be faked just as much as any other sensation.
He could try counting his fingers, but that would mean he would have to uncover his eyes and risk watching his hands-his body do things he is not telling it to do. If his eyes stay covered, then he doesn’t have to see what the Nogitsune is doing.
The panic attack has him so firmly in his grasp, that he doesn’t even hear the door to the bathroom open. He doesn’t even realize he’s no longer alone until the one voice he doesn’t want to hear rings in his ears.
“Stiles? Stiles, what’s wrong, man? How can I help?”
Shit, that was Scott! Scott can’t be here! Stiles can’t stand to watch himself stab his friend again, to twist that blade and feed on the painpleasureneed that consumed his being.
“Stiles? Hey, talk to me. I swear, whatever you think you saw wasn’t real, ok? Can you look at me?” Hands touched his own and Stiles ripped himself away and out of reach.
“No, don’t-!” His hands dig in harder to his scalp. Maybe if he can keep them here he can keep Scott safe.
“Shit, Stiles, you’re hurting yourself!” Those hands reach out again, and again, Stiles moves away. Only this time, the scent of blood reaches his nose. If he can smell blood then it has to be bad, it has to mean the Nogitsune has done something to Scott and Stiles can’t risk seeing that again! He doesn’t want to feel it and why does Scott keep coming closer when Stiles has already hurt him!
“No! Stay back! S-Stay away!” His back hit a corner. Stiles has officially run out of room to move himself away (assuming that was even happening). Still, Scott pressed forward and soon Stiles was kicking out with his legs, flailing in all the ways he could get his non-occupied limbs to move just to k eep Scott away from him !
“Shit, Scott, stop!” A new voice. A familiar voice. Isaac?
“Isaac, I can’t- he’s hurting himself!”
“And he’ll keep doing it if you don’t back off!”
Shuffling, with heavy breaths. It sounds like Scott moved away from him. He loosened his grip on his head, but he didn’t bring his hands down yet. He didn’t want to risk seeing what was behind them.
“Ok…now what?” If he had it in him, Stiles would have laughed at Isaac’s awkward words.
“He won’t let me touch him.” Scott said, voice lowered like he was trying to whisper to Isaac. Maybe it was the bathroom acoustics or his panic, but Scott was nowhere close to whispering. “It's…usually we can help talk him through it, but he doesn’t want to listen to me. I…counting fingers had worked during the whole…but he won’t let go.”
“Should we…call the Sheriff?”
That’s the absolute last thing that needed to happen. “No, no don’t! I just-” His voice cut out with another gasp for air. “-f-fuck!” His grip tightened again.
“Stiles, hey, listen to me, buddy.” Scott spoke up. “I know it's hard, but I need you to listen to me, ok? Do you think you can give either me or Isaac your hands?”
“No, I can’t-”
“Stiles, you’re hurting yourself-”
“Good!” His ears pricked at the whines that came from both ‘wolves. “Then it’s…it’s not you! I can’t-” He broke off again as the memories of hurting Scott resurged. He could see his hands hurting his friend, but if they stayed like this, dug into his skull and eyes then hopefully it wouldn’t happen again.
The bathroom was silent again, except for his panicked breaths. Maybe he could calm himself down like this, with the silence, but the darkness blinding him made it easier for his worried thoughts to conjure horrible moment after horrible moment. It didn’t help that sleepless nights made it so he had a plethora of images to pick from. At least none of them had sound but if he strained his hearing he swore he heard something tapping only to be drowned out by that god awful buzzing !
“...Stiles,” Scott’s voice gently cut back in. “I swear, this is real, ok? Whatever you saw or heard, it wasn’t real, but right now? This is, I swear.”
“But what if-!”
“It’s gone, Stiles. It’s gone, trapped in that box and it is never getting back out. Maybe…maybe you thought you saw something because i-it’s exhaustion or something. Whatever, I’m sure either you or Lydia could explain it, but either way, it’s not the Nogitsune. You won’t hurt us.”
As he talked, Stiles worked up the courage to at least peek out from behind his hands. Beyond them, he was met with Scott knelt in front of him, maybe a little more than an arm's length away. He was watching Stiles with his big, puppy-dog eyes full of worry, and his hands were held up with the fingers spread apart in the universal ‘I mean no harm’ gesture.
Stiles focused on his friends fingers, mentally counting and then re-counting to ensure that there were ten. Once he was comfortable with that, he allowed himself to once again look over Scott for any injuries or blood. There was none.
The soft tapping he had been hearing pulled his gaze slightly past Scott where Isaac was leaning against the wall. One of his fingernails was tapping out a slow, rhythmic pattern on the floor. Isaac himself looked uncomfortable, but there was no obvious injury or blood on him either.
Stiles found he was able to take a shaky breath in and out. It wasn’t normal breathing, but it was definitely better than the gasping he was doing before.
Scott also picked up on the change, his eyes able to meet Stiles’ where they were peeking out. “Good job. You’re doing great, Stiles.”
A snort left him.
“Yeah, I know.” Scott laughed a little. “But, really, you are.” He shuffled closer, and Stiles gave himself a mental pat on the back when he didn’t flinch away from him. “You, uh, you want to let go of your hair?”
Did he? Not really, but he could see the worry lingering on Scott’s face and could feel the stickiness on his fingers. Stiles had to focus to uncurl each joint of his fingers, one by one untangling from his longer locks. As soon as they were untangled, his hands dropped into his lap as though the bones were replaced with lead. His breath caught once more when he saw the amount of blood on his fingertips, but he mentally told himself that it was his own, that Scott and Isaac were fine-
“That’s…a lot of blood.” Scott commented, which earned him another snort from Stiles.
“Thanks, Captain Obvious.”
“I’m serious, Stiles.”
“Look, Scott, it’s fine. I didn’t hit my head or anything, and last I checked my fragile, human nails are not the same as your wolfy ones.” He held up his bitten down nails to prove his point. “Head wounds just bleed a lot.”
“Maybe my mom should take a look.”
“Oh my god, no, I’m fine Scott. I just need to clean up a little.”
“Good thing we’re in a bathroom then, huh?” Isaac drawled from his place near the wall. “Otherwise you’d have to walk through the school like that.”
“And have more rumors about me? How creative do you think they’d get this time?”
“I think you should head home for the day, Stiles.” Scott said. “After you clean up, that is.”
“No, Scott, I’m fine! We walk around with injuries at school all the time! Between lacrosse and all of our bullshit, it's normal!”
“Stiles, you made yourself bleed!” Scott growled and flashed his eyes as his worry overwhelmed him. Stiles jolted at the sight and this seemed to help Scott visibly reign his own emotions in. “You were bleeding, and I couldn’t do anything…”
“Scott…” Stiles didn’t know what to say. He knows his friends are worried about him, but that’s why he’s trying to act as normal as he can, to just get back into the routine.
Isaac sighed as he pushed himself off the wall and came to stand over the two of them. “Alright, Scott, go call the Sheriff. I’ll help this idiot get cleaned up.”
“No, you don’t need to-”
“Yeah, good idea. I’ll be right back then.” Scott didn’t even listen to Stiles’ protests before he was standing and making his way out of the bathroom. Stiles knows he has his phone on him and didn’t appreciate that Scott was going to go call his dad away from him.
“Come on.” Isaac grabbed one of his arms and pulled him up.
“Woah! Watch the strength!” Stiles stabilized himself before shooting a glare at Isaac. “And you guys don’t need to call my dad. I’m fine.”
“You’d think by now you’d remember the whole, can’t lie to a werewolf thing.” Isaac said as they walked over to the sinks. “I want to give credit to your lack of sleep, but you’ve been this stupid since I’ve known you.”
“Bold of you to assume my lack of sleep is a new thing.” Stiles shot back. Faintly, he thought he could hear Scott talking to his dad, but it was quickly drowned out by the sound of water bursting from the old school pipes. Sticking his hands under it, he started scrubbing away the crimson that stained his fingertips.
Meanwhile, Isaac allowed himself to look over Stiles’ head, noting where blood had dripped down the sides of his head and neck. “Did your skin become paper thin, or something? You look like you got glass or something thrown at you, not that you just scratched yourself.”
“I told you, head wounds bleed alot. Maybe you and Scott just forgot since you can heal instantly.” Isaac raised an eyebrow. “Oh shut up. Besides, look-” He brought one hand up to prod at his head. “-these are clearly just scratch marks. They’re already scabbing, too!” He wet a paper towel to start wiping away the blood down his neck and on his head. True to his word, as most of the blood was wiped away, the origins looked to be scabbed over scratches. Both Stiles and Isaac noted that, as Stiles scrubbed, some of the scabs broke open, but the amount of blood that started leaking was nowhere near the amount that had been originally down his neck.
“See-” Stiles threw away the last paper towel and gestured to his head. “Everything is fine.”
“You should probably still go home.” Isaac said. “I can still smell the blood and I don’t know if it’s just ‘cause it stained or if you missed somewhere.”
“I could finish the day if I wanted to.” Stiles huffed. “It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve come to school covered in injuries or blood.”
“Yeah, but this is different, right?” Isaac’s eyes met Stiles’, and he had to look away from the sheer understanding in them.
Stiles was thankfully saved from answering by Scott poking his head back in through the bathroom door. “You guys ok in here?”
“Yeah, we’re good.” Stiles replied.
“Ok, well, I called your dad, and he’s going to call the office so you can leave.” Scott continued. “Do you need one of us to come with you?”
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just…go back and shower and then probably take a nap or something.” Assuming he could fall asleep.
“Could you take one of the sleeping aids when you get back? Or did my mom say it had to be at night?”
“I’ll take it if I need it.” Stiles replied. “Scott, I swear, I’m fine. Hell, you guys can even come over after school if you need to.”
“Oh, I’m sorry, we need invitations now?” Isaac sassed as they made their way out of the bathroom.
“Even if you did, I know none of you would care. Maybe I should line the house with mountain ash to make your wolfy-butts actually use manners for once. Knock on the door like a normal person.”
“Why do you smell like blood?”
“I swear, I will make good on that mountain ash threat.” Stiles grumbled as he entered his house. He glared at the intruder. “Who says you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, right?”
“Stiles.”
“Sourwolf.”
“You came home early, and you smell like blood.”
“You know, those werewolf senses never cease to be amazing.” Stiles dropped his book bag on the table before he started making his way upstairs.
“Stiles.”
“Derek.” He huffed and turned to face the scowling man who had followed him up the stairs to his bedroom. “I’m fine. Shit happened, I’m going to take a shower, yes my dad knows, and no, I don’t want to talk about it. I answer all your questions?”
“Did you at least treat the injury?”
“There’s nothing to treat.” Stiles replied as he gathered up clothes for his shower. “A few scratches, sure, but nothing big. Can’t your fancy werewolf nose smell that? Or is it just the obvious things? Actually, what does your nose smell? Like do certain chemosignals cover up others? Could I coat myself in a perfume and you’d never know anything? How about mountain ash? Because you all seem to only notice it when it's right in front of your face or you’ve run into it. Could you tell if I had been handling mountain ash?”
“Good to see whatever happened didn’t crack your head open.” Derek grumbled as he made to return downstairs.
“Aw you do care!” Stiles shouted back. As he entered the bathroom, his eyes caught the mirror and his heart sputtered in his chest. He wanted to look away, to not see whatever was waiting for him, but at the same time what if what happened at school happened again? What if his eyes changed and it was just the sign of the Nogitsune coming back?
“Stiles? What’s wrong?” Derek came back up, alerted by the sudden pause in dialog, skipped heart beat, and panic now reaching his nose.
“What? Ah, nothing, nothing important.” Stiles scrambled to push that panic down. As he looked away from the mirror, a thought wiggled its way out of his mouth. “Did I smell different?”
“What?”
“With the…with Void. Did I smell the same or different? Scott never mentioned anything and, well, he fell for the tricks, but I also know he’s not the best with chemosignals or whatever, and it’s not like it would be caught lying either so he probably only had to rely on scent when it was around but maybe it didn’t have a different smell? Like, Kira has the fancy aura thing so maybe you guys just needed to look for that, but you wouldn’t think to-”
“Stiles, you’re rambling.” Oh, would you look at that. His heartbeat was racing again.
“Right, anyway. Point is, did I smell different? Like…if something…happened, how quickly would you be able to tell?”
Derek was silent, his eyebrows furrowed as he watched Stiles flail around the bathroom. When a few moments passed without a word from the ‘wolf, Stiles crossed his arms and looked away.
“Or, hey, maybe you don’t know. We were kinda fighting, and maybe being a born wolf gave you manners about putting that snoot into people’s personal space.”
“...You don’t smell like the Nogitsune.” Derek’s voice made his eyes snap back over to him. “At first, we could just tell you were fighting with yourself. There was…another scent, I think, when we were looking for you the first time, but generally it was you with a lot of conflicting emotions. But, after, when we found you at my loft, you smelled different. Considering it was changing your body, it makes sense. Even after it separated from you, if it had actually cared to pretend to be you, it still smelled different.”
“And…now?”
“It’s gone.”
“That’s…good. That’s good then. Thanks.” He expected some type of hum or grunt in return, but instead Derek just continued to stare at him, a thoughtful (but still aloof) look on his face. “Oi, sourwolf, you good? Do you require a reboot after all that talking?”
“I’ll be downstairs.” And that was all he got before he was alone in the bathroom.
Stiles stared after him for a few seconds, sensitive ears even picking up the sound of his steps in the house when usually the stalker could move without any noise. Wow, either Derek doesn’t care today or he really needs a nap.
Shaking his head, he turned the shower on and hopped in when it was warm enough. His fingers scrubbed away at his head, but part of him was a little curious as only bits of dried blood washed away from his fingers. No fresh blood washed down the drain, and as he ran his fingers through his hair, he couldn’t feel any pain from where the injuries had previously been.
He’s already healed.
Taking a deep breath to calm his newly rebuilding panic, Stiles pulled himself out of the shower and into clean clothes. He resisted the urge to wipe away the steam on the mirror, and instead made his way back to his bedroom where he pulled his many sticky notes and notebooks. A part of him was fighting this. Afterall, the last time he looked into unanswered questions it turned out he was possessed and went on a murder spree.
But if he didn’t write it down, it would never leave him alone. Besides, he should record any of the weird stuff anyway, just in case he was possessed or something. Try to get ahead of it this time.
His eyes looked to the door, as if he expected Derek to suddenly materialize there. He should tell him, right? About his suspicions? But everyone just finished dealing with his bullshit. They defeated the big bad, Stiles’s brain was his own, and they were all in recovery. The last thing any of his friends or family needed was more bullshit from his end.
So, he’ll start putting the pieces together first. Derek, Scott, and Isaac all said today that the Nogitsune was gone. Hell, all the others confirmed this throughout all the weeks they’ve been together. So, maybe it wasn’t the Nogitsune, but that didn’t mean there weren’t potential side effects from the thing. Stiles had literally crawled out of a pile of bandages and watched the body he’s pretty confident was the original turn to dust in front of him.
So, if there were side effects from that, he wasn’t surprised. Given, none of the post-possession research he had done talked about the specific side effects he was experiencing, but at the same time, Stiles has been running on empty for a while here and probably hasn’t dived that deep yet into possible answers.
So, he would do that. He would get all the research first, make sure he wasn’t dangerous, and then bring it up to the others. That way, they could relax for a bit and Stiles can clean up some of this mess himself.
Glancing one last time at the door, he settled at his desk with a notebook and opened his laptop.