Derek was pissed.
No, pissed wasn't strong enough. He was absolutely mad. He was enraged. He was just an inch about going berserk and destroying something.
Preferably the stupidly stupid wolf plush currently standing on his table, its plastic fur sporting a pined tag, obviously hand-written.
Derek looked away, breathing slowly to keep his wolf under control, but he couldn't help it.
He snatched away the tag, almost ripping it in half, and glanced at it.
Yo Sourwolf!
since you're away in N-Y for private business, I thought sending you a little present wouldn't do any harm! Have fun cuddling your pup, Derbear!
the Almighty Stilinski.
Derek growled through gritted teeth, his grip crumpling the note until all was left of it was a shattered piece of paper. Then he took a long breath.
And froze.
That scent... It wasn't possible.
He sniffed long, and again it hit him. A faint smell of 'Head and Shoulders' shampoo, tainted with a light scent of woods and a lingering fragrance of some male-scent, like musk.
He opened eyes he hadn't realized he'd closed, and directed an incredulous gaze towards the plush.
He couldn't believe it, but still it was right in front of his eyes-or rather his nose. He shifted in the couch, reaching out to lift the plush off the table.
The fur sure was soft under his fingers, but he payed little attention to that, his entire being concentrating on the scent carried by the plush.
He felt his heartbeat rise when the scent once again entered his nostrils.
Soon he was curled up in the couch, the plush pressed tight against his face, nose buried deep in Stiles' scent.
And he couldn't care less.