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"Ok, so this could be worse." Which, on the whole, is probably not the most reassuring thing for Stiles to say right now.
"Could be worse?" Scott hisses out, where he's scrunched uncomfortably on Stiles's bed. In a way Derek's body probably isn't designed for. But Scott seems to be making it work, maybe through werewolf flexibility. "This is a nightmare. I can't go around being Derek." He tugs at his clothes, as if to demonstrate how much he fails at being Derek. "I can't do this. Stiles, you have to help me, you have to - what are you doing?"
Scott's suspicious face looks a lot like Derek's confused face, and when Scott flails along his bed to reach him it creaks alarmingly.
Stiles has dragged his camera off one of the shelves.
"Scott you are my friend, and I love you. You know that right."
"I'm not going to like this, am I?" Scott's shoulders try and do something Derek probably isn't capable of, because of all the ridiculous muscles. It's like watching a little kid in his dad's clothes. Only creepier.
"You have to let me get a picture of this. There has to be documented proof that this happened."
"I don't want proof that this happened," Scott says grumpily. "I would like to fix this and forget about it as soon as possible. I feel like a freak."
Scott ignores that, because Scott feels like a freak in some werewolf-related capacity at least once a week.
"Oh, hey, make Derek's face smile. I'll bet that's creepy as hell."
Scott throws a pillow at him - and wow, Derek is strong enough that even that kind of hurts.
"Ow."
"Stiles, this is serious. What am I supposed to do?"
Stiles drops down onto the bed next to him, and Scott leans against him in a way that doesn't usually leave him listing quite so far under the weight.
"Well since I couldn't find anything that looked even remotely real about unexpected bodyswapping online, I'm going to have to go with Derek's plan to wait until Deaton gets back."
"It's a stupid plan," Scott says immediately.
"You think all Derek's plans are stupid just because they're Derek's." Stiles takes a picture of him pouting, then one of him glaring, then one of him sighing reluctantly. Then a sort of blurry one of him snatching the camera out of Stiles's hand. "Granted some of them are really stupid, but not all of them."
"I still think he should have stuck around. That's my body he's running around in. I should have some say in what he's doing with it. I don't even want to think about what he's doing with it." Judging by his face he's clearly thinking about it, and isn't happy about it.
"He has a pack to take care of," Stiles says. He doesn't mean it to sound quite so much like he's supporting Derek's quasi-theft of Scott's body, but it's been a really confusing day. He can't help but laugh when a thought occurs to him though. "Man, just think, he's over there right now, bossing his betas around with your little face."
"What do you mean with my little face?" Derek's face does a pretty accurate impression of Scott's offended one. "There's nothing wrong with my face."
Stiles consoles him with a lot of manly patting. Which is weird because usually Derek objects to that, and it's definitely Derek's body under Stiles's hand. Which he isn't going to think about too much or it'll get weird.
Weirder.
"Dude, your face is fine, when it's on you. But now Derek's wearing it, trying to be all grr and argh, with your hair and your inability to be scary."
Scott throws him another look.
"I have to be home by ten," he says suddenly. Then his face falls. "I mean, other me. Derek has to be home by ten. Do you think Derek knows I have to be home by ten?" Scott looks so worried, it's hard not to laugh, really hard.
"Probably not, since he wasn't sixteen yesterday. Also, his parents are tragically dead, so he probably doesn't have a curfew." Stiles takes his camera back before Scott crushes it.
"If I'm late then mom will probably make me - will probably make Derek clean my room," Scott says miserably. He obviously thinks the idea is genuinely horrifying, when really it's pretty much the best thing that's happened today.
He thinks Scott objects to him finding any of this hilarious though.
"This isn't funny, Stiles, how would you like being in Derek?" Scott glares at him the second he realises what he's said. "Not like that, oh my God, not like that. You're supposed to be my friend."
"I am your friend. Which is why I'm taking this in my stride and not freaking it. Which is why I believed you pretty much ten seconds after you explained what happened. Since, y'know, you fell in my window and started your explanation with 'oh my God, Stiles, oh my God, what am I going to do? How am I supposed to explain this to my mom?' Yeah, I didn't really need the explanation after that to be honest."
"My mom can't find out about this," Scott insists. "She's already way too deep into the weirdness. No more, I mean it."
Stiles snorts through his nose. "Oh my God, she'll give Derek cocoa with marshmallows in, and pet his hair, and he'll suffer miserably through it. I honestly can't decide if this is the most hilarious thing that's ever happened or tragically horrible."
"Stiles."
"Don't whine at me in Derek's voice, dude, it's disturbing."
"You have to get me out of the house. You have to get my body out of the house."
"What exactly do you want me to do, kidnap Derek from your house?"
Scott gives him a hopeful look. Which is really, really wrong, because he's pretty sure Derek uses that face for something completely different.
"Dude, nothing in the whole world could convince me to go round to your house and fake-kidnap fake-you."
Scott looks physically pained, scrubbing a hand through his hair in a way that shouldn't be flattering on Derek, but apparently he's incapable of looking stupid. Though Stiles has yet to work out if it's genetics or black magic.
"I need to get changed." Scott pulls out his shirt, which does indeed have unidentified blood stains on it. "I don't even know what this is?" he says. "I have strange blood all over me, and it smells really weird."
"Text Derek and tell him he has to go home - that he has to take your body home. Ugh, this is going to get confusing. When did this become my life, seriously? And you, you'll have to sleep here tonight." He throws the pillow Scott had hurled at him back, only to have it caught and stuffed behind Scott's head.
"Yeah, no, get off the bed," Stiles says firmly.
"I'm not sharing the bed with you?" Scott looks confused.
Stiles slaps him round the head.
"No, you're not."
Scott pulls a face, which proves he gets it at least.
"It's creepy that you want to bone my fake-body. You know that right?"
"We will never speak of this again," Stiles says firmly.
Scott grumbles all the way down to the carpet.