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His little sister is running late. Derek’s waiting outside the school, the parking lot getting steadily emptier, and with a gloomy expression he decides to wait in the open air. The breeze picks up and he gets a tickle of that scent.
It’s been more than a month and Derek’s mouth waters. His whole body stills and he tells himself not to do anything stupid as all his senses become attuned to Stiles. He hears a short thump from across the lot and then there comes a bright “fuck!”
Derek makes his way over to the blue jeep, his feet moving past each other slowly. He stuffs his hands in his pockets and he clears his throat when he comes up behind Stiles.
There’s a large yelp and then Stiles swears again. “Seriously?” he yells. “What are you doing here?”
Derek narrows his eyes. “What do you think?” he grumbles, holding his breath in.
Stiles looks down at his feet and then stares wistfully at his jeep. “It won’t start,” he mutters. The hood of the car is up and Stiles’ fingers look slightly grimy, like he’s been trying to fix the problem himself.
“Do you need a ride?” he asks gruffly. He doesn’t know how to be polite. He can’t imagine how he’s supposed to just stand here when Stiles’ scent dangles in the air not metres from him.
Stiles raises his eyebrows. “I think I might just call a tow.”
He shrugs, trying to act like it doesn’t bother him much when Stiles brushes him off.
“Won’t I stink up your car?” he says in a tight, quiet voice.
Derek’s eyes widen. He hadn’t thought of that. Shit. That would be a terrible idea, having Stiles in such a close space, having his scent coat the leather of his seats. He takes a step back because while he’s missed Stiles’ scent, while he has wished for some kind of excuse to see Stiles, Derek is so not ready for them to be in the confines of a car together. It would be too good, but punishing, because Derek wouldn’t be allowed to touch him.
Stiles watches his mild horror and his expression darkens. “On second thought,” he says, picking his bag from the ground and swinging it over his shoulder. “I might take you up on your offer.” He swaggers past Derek and his shoulder knocks into him, passing by deliberately close.
Stiles climbs into the car straight away but Derek waits outside for his sister. He’s trying to get a hold of himself; he’s trying to prepare entering that small, tight space and meeting a dense cloud of deliciousness. Stiles must know enough about werewolves because Derek can see him fiddling with the window controls, running his hands along every inch of the seat and then he leans over the front seats to poke at the radio controls.
In other words, he’s coating his scent everywhere just because he thinks Derek doesn’t like it. Derek grits his teeth together and spots Cora coming down the stairs. She waves.
“Sorry I’m late,” she says, “I was asking Harris about extra credit.”
Her nose wrinkles.
“Is that..?” Cora trails off.
“Yes,” Derek replies curtly, and he swiftly gets into the car, taking care to breathe through his mouth. Stiles grins up at him and ignores Cora’s narrowed eyes.
“Have you heard of sitting still?” she says darkly. “Derek may be dense but I’m still a werewolf and I don’t need sweaty lacrosse players stinking up the car.”
Stiles shrugs, glancing at Derek and not looking too concerned.
He tries to fight back a scowl, and the soft rumble of the engine fills their ears. Cora keeps glancing at him, probably wondering what he will do with Stiles’ scent so thick in the car. It’s easy not to breathe when he doesn’t talk, and Stiles seems to figure that out because he leans forward in the back seat and he grins.
“So, Derek, what do you do when you’re not driving your sister around?” His hands are on each of the front seats, his long fingers just by Derek’s shoulder and beside him Cora is trying not to snigger.
“I’m a writer,” he says gruffly, the words forcing him to breathe, and there it is. Derek’s eyes flutter shut for a moment because Stiles smells better than he remembered, and he can hear the delightful thud of Stiles’ pulse right by his ear.
“Whoa, really?” Stiles asks, and his breath tickles Derek’s ear.
“Yes,” he snaps, and this is enough. He spreads out a palm and twists so that he can push Stiles back into his seat. The path of the car down the road doesn’t sway at all, and Derek ignores Stiles’ protests about being ‘man handled’ again. “Put your seatbelt on,” he orders.
Cora looks back at Stiles. “Yes, Stiles. Without that werewolf healing we wouldn’t want you to get hurt if Derek lost control of the car.”
Derek rolls his eyes, feeling satisfied when he hears the seatbelt click behind him.
“I wonder what would distract him,” she says sweetly, and Derek’s eyes flash with colour. At the next full moon he won’t be afraid to nip at her heels.
Stiles laughs before his expression settles into a smirk. Their eyes lock onto each other through the glare of the rear view mirror and even through his laughter Derek can see the hint of wariness in the kid’s eyes. Derek – Derek can’t help the way Stiles smells. He can’t. He knows Stiles is still offended because Derek fucked things up weeks and weeks ago, but right now he thinks he’d rather Stiles not know the truth.
It’s embarrassing.
Derek concentrates on breathing quietly through his mouth. They drop Stiles off at his house and his sister does not say one word to him all the way home. When the car settles into the dirt of their driveway, she turns to him.
“If you want him to like you, maybe you should try and not look like you want to kill something,” Cora says.
Derek glares at her and she grins.
Once she’s out of the car he lets himself breathe. Stiles’ scent lingers, oh does it linger, and he gets it deep in his lungs before he finally steps out of the car.
»
“Stiles’ jeep needs some work and I offered to drive him to school until the mechanic says it’s ready,” his sister says in a rush. Derek’s still half asleep, his brain moving along slowly, and it’s only when Cora’s grabbed her bag and lunch and is half way out the door that Derek yells after her. This can’t be a good idea.
Derek pulls on his favourite jacket and steps out the door. Stiles’ scent is still clinging to the leather seats and Derek rolls open the windows. The air slices through the car, clearing his head, and by the time they get to Stiles’ house his grimace is almost gone. A soft buzz of nervousness rests over his skin instead.
He even offers a small smile through the rear view mirror when Stiles enters the car but he misses it. That’s okay, though. Derek’s just got to make sure he doesn’t do anything else stupid.
He takes a small breath through his nose and it’s enough to keep his wolf happy, but not to let it go completely insane.
Stiles snorts behind him.
“You do realise that without enough oxygen you may lose some brain cells?” he asks.
Cora sighs and looks at her nails. She’s freshly painted them with a bright red polish even though every time her claws extend the paint gets a little chipped. Derek glances over at her, and he can see the effort she takes to zone out of the conversation.
“I have enough to spare,” Derek says through his teeth. “Don’t know if I could say the same about you.”
Stiles frowns. “My grades are decent. They’re better than your sister’s.”
Derek says nothing. They pull up to the school and Stiles’ cheerfully says goodbye to him. He grunts back and watches Stiles’ expression flicker. Derek’s not very good at this.
»
The car rides go on for the better part of a week. Twice a day Derek is subjected to the scent of Stiles and he’s not quite sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing. His wolf is happy every time he lets himself breathe through his nose but then he wants more. He wants to be around Stiles all the time and the boy doesn’t even like Derek.
He’s tried to be decent. Derek attempts a few smiles and one time it must have surprised Stiles a lot because the steady strum of his pulse seemed to falter. But Derek’s too distracted to be polite as he tries not to throw himself at the boy, and his sister sits there and watches him suffer. At least Stiles has sort of stopped deliberately making it worse for him.
»
The rain starts to fall in heavy drops as they pull into Stiles’ street the next morning. The wind sweeps through the car’s open windows to bite at their skin. By the time Stiles drops into the car, his cheeks are flushed red and a trickle of water runs down from his hair and over his face.
His scent is thick and clean through the cool air, pressing gently at Derek’s skin. He turns his head over his shoulder to see Stiles’ pink lips hanging open. Stiles shivers a little and their gazes meet, Stiles’ hello faltering slightly.
“Morning,” mumbles Derek.
Stiles pauses, looking back at him. His eyes seem bright and something must happen because his scent starts to get a little richer. Derek swallows and tries to ignore it. It’s too good, Stiles’ hormones coming through since the moment he got in the car, like he’d been letting himself think long before they arrived. It’s almost too much. Derek makes himself put the car in gear and he guides the car onto the road.
Cora sinks into her seat, hands covering her face as she lets out a faint noise of disgust. Stiles blushes.
“Oh, shit, you can –”
“Yes,” Cora bites out, and she glares at Derek.
“Werewolves,” says Stiles weakly, before he shuts up. “Um, do, do you think we can wind up the back windows? It’s really cold in here.”
Derek tightens his grip on the wheel, body going still as he tries to ignore Stiles’ request. He can’t, honestly, he knows Stiles is a teenager, almost eighteen, and that they think about sex all the time, and Derek knows whatever’s going on in Stiles’ body isn’t for him but it doesn’t mean he can handle having the windows closed.
Cora looks over at him expectantly.
“Dude,” snaps Stiles. “I am literally getting rained on.”
“If I do up the windows…” Derek starts, but he bites his lip, shaking his head instead of finishing his sentence.
He can feel Stiles’ glower piercing his back. “What? If you do up the windows, what?”
Derek swallows.
“I’ll stink up the car?” He says loudly. The taint smell of anger leaks from him and his wolf whines sadly inside him. He’s making Stiles upset.
“No,” tries Derek. “No –”
Cora rolls her eyes. “Yes,” she says under her breath.
“God werewolves are weird,” Stiles mutters under his breath. He sags in his seat and folds his arms, sniffing as Derek lets the windows roll up. The car goes quiet except for the sound of Stiles’ angry huffs littering the air. He mutters to himself, going on about werewolves and Derek feels frustration rattle through his body.
“Have you ever thought,” manages Derek, “that it’s just me?”
Stiles glances up at him. “What?”
“Instead of putting down my entire race, have you ever just thought that maybe I’m the weird one? And not my whole family or pack?” Derek says through his teeth. He feels his claws wanting to come out and pierce the air, and Cora’s eyes are on him.
Stiles stares back at him, mouth dropping open. “Dude, I mean, I get what you’re saying, but like, we have to take sex ed classes the werewolf edition, now,” he says, wrinkling his nose and staring at Derek intently like he’s got to know what he’s talking about. “There’s all sorts of kinky shit out there. You guys are apparently freakishly territorial and it’s so not fair that humans can’t even fucking hide what we’re feeling! Also, did you know that some people smell so good that a werewolf’s instincts kick in and then humans have to get restraining orders? Restraining orders! Come on, you have to admit that’s a little fucked up.”
Derek’s nostrils flare. “They teach you worse case scenarios.”
“Whatever, man, it’s still common.”
His whole body thrums with anger and Cora’s narrowed eyes seem to mirror his. Stiles sits in the backseat, fiddling with something in between his fingers and he doesn’t even look fussed. The boy is such an idiot and it’s desperately clear what he will think of Derek if he figures out how he does smell to him.
Stiles’ sighs are one too many and Derek stops the car. “Get out.”
“What?” Stiles splutters.
“I said get out.”
Stiles gives him a dirty look. They’re still two streets to the school and it’s still pissing down with rain. He starts to fight back but Derek doesn’t even bother opening his mouth to reply. He just sits there and waits for Stiles to slide out of the car.
“Fine,” he snaps, swinging his bag over his shoulder. Derek is stiff as he stares out the windscreen and Cora reaches over the seat and kisses him on the cheek. He relaxes a little, though he can still hear the angry pulsing of Stiles’ heart.
“You’re a complete moron,” Cora says to Stiles, following him out into the rain. She whacks him over the head with a bit too much force and she begins to march ahead of him.
»
Derek turns the car around and drives away a little too hastily. Once he’s gone far enough, he stops and lets himself do what he hardly ever does. He rests his forehead against the steering wheel and simply breathes.
He catches his sister’s scent but it’s Stiles’ that floods into his nostrils. He takes in the remains of teenage hormones, but it’s tainted with the leftover bitterness of anger and frustration. Derek is tempted to go back and find the real thing, offer himself up to Stiles even though he’ll be rejected. Instead, he makes his way to the town’s mechanic.
There’s a back up of cars before Stiles’ jeep is to be fixed so Derek strides up to the counter and slams a one hundred dollar bill on the table. It’s illegal to use intimidation techniques that showcase fangs, claws or even the flash of eyes but this man doesn’t know he’s a werewolf and Derek’s face has the reputation of being somewhat murderous on its own.
“I want the blue jeep put to the front of the queue and I don’t want you to tell the guy who owns it why the repairs happened so quickly,” he orders. The man barely nods before Derek storms out of the store.
He drives up to the house and falls on his bed, his head throbbing.
»
Laura drags him to the door later a day later, the afternoon’s warmth slowly fading away. He stills when he sees Stiles standing on the porch, hands in pockets and his face a little pale. Stiles’ feet shift over the ground, his eyes darting up every few seconds to take in Derek’s closed off expression.
“Um, hey,” he mumbles and Derek glares.
Stiles flushes.
“So, Cora let me know, quite thoroughly, that I was being offensive in the car yesterday. I wanted to come over and apologise to you.”
Derek grunts and waits. Any hope he had dared to feel got lost long ago, and the fact that Stiles is here, now, willing to apologise only means a little. His opinion of Derek is probably set in stone. After a minute of silence Stiles waves his hands in the air, expecting Derek to speak.
“Saying you want to apologise and apologising are two different things,” he says in a flat voice.
Stiles scowls, but quickly he relents. “Sorry, Derek. I’ve been too much of a dick to realise you kind of stopped being one, even with the whole, you know, bad smell thing.” He wrinkles his nose before his cheeks tinge with red.
“It’s fine,” Derek says stiffly. He looks over Stiles’ shoulder and finds the blue jeep sitting in their driveway. Stiles looks at him, mouth parting like he’d like to say something more.
He licks his lips. “Thanks for all rides this week,” he says quietly. “I’ll see you around.”
Derek watches him leave, a part of him aching for something more than just the sweet smell of the retreating figure.