Stiles was quiet on the drive, doing his best to not get overwhelmed or let his control slip. He had chosen to ride with his dad, and unfortunately, the cruiser was full of scents. New overlapped with old and made the cruiser feel suffocating. Luckily, his dad didn't seem inclined to talk at the moment, so Stiles attempted to distract himself by identifying as many scents as he could.
Sweat was the easiest to pick up, as familiar to Stiles as Lacrosse locker rooms. There was dirt and something else that could have been leaves or grass, Stiles wasn't sure. There were different layers of deodorants, perfumes, and soaps that, together, were quite overwhelming, but Stiles knew it was a short drive, so he didn't mention it.
Weaving between it all was a blend of what Stiles could only assume were chemo signals. They smelled more organic than anything else in the car.
By time the cruiser pulled up in front of the Stilinski house, Stiles was aching with the urge to move, run, get out. He clenched his jaw and fists, ignoring the itch that was building under his skin. Anxious, Stiles glanced around, unable to sit still.
"He's just behind us, Stiles," Noah spoke softly.
Stiles eyes snapped to his father, then the side mirror, just in time to see Derek's Camaro pull in behind the cruiser. Stiles stilled, letting out a breath, his eyes locked on Derek's driver's door. He watched as the alpha got out, and as soon as Derek was in his line of sight, Stiles pushed open the door and scrambled out.
Derek was by his side in an instant, and Stiles resisted leaning in to get a breath of the alpha's scent. Derek seemed to read his mind and leaned closer, looking Stiles over with a quick flick of worry-filled eyes. Stiles took a breath and, catching the scent of pine, he slowly relaxed.
"Let's get you in and settled, and then I'm sorry, but I'll have to go back to the station," Noah's voice was apologetic. "I've got to make those calls, and I left a bit abruptly."
"It's okay, Dad. I know dealing with a brand new werewolf wasn't on the books for today," Stiles tried to joke, but his voice was tight.
"I'll be back as soon as I can," Noah promised as he unlocked the house and let the boys in.
"You don't have to rush." Stiles did his best to smile, but stepping into the house was like a hit to the gut. "I'm not going anywhere," Stiles managed, and Derek gave him a concerned look that Stiles slightly shook his head at.
The house was overwhelmingly foreign to Stiles new senses. It didn't smell like home anymore. It was stale and stuffy and made Stiles want to run back out the door. Or at the very least open every window in the house. There were chemo signals here, too, clinging to everything. Stiles didn't need Derek to help him identify these ones. There was no question that his father had been overwhelmingly stressed and devastatingly sad.
"Alright, I love you, kiddo," Noah stepped forward and wrapped Stiles in a hug.
Stiles ignored how uncomfortable his clothes were and focused on his dad's aftershave and relief.
"I love you too, Dad," Stiles murmured.
The sheriff stepped back and nodded to Derek.
"Yes, sir," Derek nodded seriously.
With that, Noah left, closing the door behind him.
"Oh my god," Stiles gasped, dropping to the floor.
"Stiles?" Derek sounded alarmed and was immediately by Stiles' side. "What's wrong?"
"I feel like I'm suffocating!" Stiles was breathing through his mouth, which only made it slightly better. "It smells awful in here! There are so many smells! and the car ride too," Stiles covered his eyes, trying to keep grounded but feeling tears already stinging behind his hands.
"I know," Derek's voice was sympathetic and soft. "You're doing so much better than I think you think you are."
"How am I going to survive like this?" Stile looked up at Derek, and his eyes were shining golden.
"Hey, shhh," Derek's hand landed on the back of Stiles neck, and he pulled the beta closer. Stiles almost let out a whimper at the contact, but as soon as Derek's scent wrapped around him, Stiles couldn't get close enough.
He leaned in, nose finding Derek's neck, nuzzling in. Derek rumbled in response and tucked his head down to rub against Stiles' hair. The alpha rocked them slowly, his hand sliding up to cup the back of Stiles' head. Stiles' hands came up to cling to Derek's shirt, bunching the fabric and pulling Derek as close as he physically could. Stiles could hear Derek's heartbeat, and he forced himself to focus on nothing but breathing and that heartbeat.
Stiles wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, rocking and breathing, Derek's fingers carding slowly through Stiles' hair. Stiles didn't want to leave the moment, didn't want to face all the smells and sounds and whatever else was going to overwhelm him from now on. But eventually Stiles relaxed, his hands dropping from Derek's shirt and the alpha pulled back slowly.
"Better?" Derek asked carefully.
"I made him so sad," Stiles' voice trembled, but he didn't cry.
"You did nothing," Derek said firmly. "Your dad knows that. We all know that."
"I know, but..." Stiles looked around. He had gotten used to the scents filling the house now, and it wasn't as overwhelming as it had been. "I can smell it."
Derek's eyebrows went up, and the corner of his mouth did too.
"Three weeks of being a werewolf and identifying chemo signals? You're going to out-werewolf us all." As Derek hoped it would, his attempted joke pulled a reluctant smile from Stiles. "Let's get you in the shower, and I'll see if I can find some comfortable clothes. Werewolf comfortable," Derek added, and Stiles nodded.
"Okay," He agreed, shifting to stand.
Derek followed, and the two headed upstairs. Stiles diverted to the bathroom while Derek continued on to Stiles' room. Knowing Stiles was going to be even more sensitive than the average werewolf, Derek took his time sifting through the clothing options. He eventually settled on sweats and the softest t-shirt he could find. The shower was still running, so Derek opened Stiles' window to air out the room. He then headed downstairs and opened as many windows as he could.
Stiles wasn't wrong; the house was full of the sheriff's chemo signals, but Derek didn't find them nearly as overwhelming as Stiles did. Regardless, Derek wanted to help Stiles as much as he could. Luckily, there was a light breeze and no overly powerful scents outside at the moment. Satisfied, Derek went back upstairs to wait for Stiles.
The shower was off now but Derek could hear the sink running, and there was a faint scent of peppermint. Stiles must be brushing his teeth, he realized. Not much later, the water shut off, and Derek heard the bathroom door open. Stiles came in, towel around his waist and steam wafting off his damp skin.
"Better?" Derek asked with a smile.
"Kind of," Stiles lifted a shoulder. "I feel like showers might be challenging in the future. The water was a lot. And I need to get a different shampoo," Stiles wrinkled his nose, and Derek chuckled.
"You can use mine until you're ready to face the soap asle."
"Oh yeah, ugh," Stiles' face scrunched again.
"Here," Derek held out the clothes. "These are the softest I could find. I'll let you pick your underwear through," Derek stook as Stiles accepted the clothes. "Let me know when you're dressed." Derek clapped a hand to Stiles' shoulder, then let himself out into the hall to wait for Stiles to get dressed.
