Derek? Him? Really!? I love Lydia, not Derek. Stiles climbed in his car, starting the engine and leaving the parking lot. Sweet, charming, cute, funny, female Lydia. Not buff, rugged, hot, musky smelling – Oh. My. God. Stiles, stop that. No, not Derek. I'm attracted to boobs, not his rock hard, hot, chiseled body – NO. There you go again. His pants started to feel tight.
"Oh. My. God." He smacked himself in the head. "No Stiles, stop this and stop this now. You are going to go see Dr. Deaton, then go home and sleep. Okay? Okay."
He pulled into the clinic's parking lot and practically jumped out of the car and ran into the clinic.
Dr. Deaton walked out of the back room. "Stiles? Is something wrong, you look like you just saw a ghost."
"Ghosts? Really? Anyway, I need to see you. Something's wrong. Big time."
Dr. Deaton motioned for Stiles to follow him. "Come in, come in! There is no one scheduled to come in, let me take a look at you." They walked into the main clinic room. Dr. Deaton closed the door behind them. "Take off your shirt and on the table."
"What!? Oh, right. The wound…" He stripped off his jacket and shirt and hopped on the table.
"This isn't healing as fast as it should…so tell me Stiles, what so wrong that you look like you're about to pass out."
Stiles paused and fidgeted slightly, not knowing what to say or how to say it. "I…" A thought occurred to him. "When you were fixing me up, you paused and decided not to say something. What was it?"
Dr. Deaton looked up at Stiles' face. "Did you have some sort of strange dream or hallucination since I stitched you up?" Stiles' head snapped up and eyes went wide. The vet looked away with a sigh. "I was afraid of that. That will also explain why you aren't healing as quickly as you should. Werewolf or not, the cream I gave you should have made it heal quicker than this."
"Wh-what is wrong with me?"
"The shrapnel that hit you, I found traces of an ancient spice that isn't used that much anymore. I didn't say anything because I didn't think of it that much, since it is ancient and the data on it may not be too reliable and I didn't think it would do anything to a human."
"Well, what did the data say about it?"
"I remember reading about how the spice usually caused a sort of insanity in the werewolf, causing it to hallucinate and eventually kill itself."
"…you said usually."
"There are a case or two about a werewolf that went into this intoxicated state. The cases were different…"types" of intoxication."
"What do you mean by types?"
"One werewolf went into a drunken intoxication, as if it had gotten itself hammered off of alcohol. Another went into a fit of…lust…"
Lust. The word hit Stiles like a ton of bricks. "Oh. My. God." He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands.
Dr. Deaton quickly put together what was happening and continued to state the data of that one case. "That last werewolf became intoxicated with another's scent. Every time they smelt it, they became weak and submissive to that individual."
Stiles groaned out a low "noooooooo" and leaned over onto his side, curling himself into a little ball on the vet's table.
Dr. Deaton took in a deep breath, "There is some good news."
"What?" Stiles croaked out.
"The werewolf was able to go longer and longer periods of time without seeing, being with, or being near their individual without being thrust into that intoxicated state…eventually…"
Stiles let out another low groan at the last word.
"Stiles, can I ask…who it is?"
Stiles took a deep breath before finally sitting back up on the table. He sighed. "At first I didn't know who he was. All I knew from the dream was that it was a male who had size and strength and a musky scent. I…I figured out who it was this morning in school."
"How did you figure it out?"
Stiles looked at the floor. "I smelt that scent."
Dr. Deaton's eyes widened. "Was he there in person?"
He shook his head. "No, I smelt it on a jacket of his that Scott happened to be wearing-"
"Derek Hale!?"
Stiles' head shot up. "How did you-"
"They were in here this morning before school. Scott didn't have time to make a trip back home to get a change of clothes so Derek gave him his jacket to wear. Now that I think of it, Derek was banged up more than normally…and he seemed off."
Stiles processed that last bit of information. "Deaton, in that case, what happened to the other guy involved?"
"They ended up have a similar attraction back, not to the extent of the infected werewolf, but enough for them to seek each other out."
"What do I have to do to get this to stop?"
"The case never said anything. The werewolf was so infatuated with the other that they simply lost all intention of mindless killing. If it did act up, hunters took the other and held them hostage until the werewolf calmed back down."
"Oh my god. This is…this is just great." He hopped off the table and started putting his shirt and jacket back on.
"Look, Stiles, if it's any consolation, Derek isn't as terrible as he comes across."
"Oh, yeah, that's even better!" Stiles snapped. "I'm sorry, that was mean. I…I mean…can you not tell Scott about this? At least not until I can figure out what's going on, not until I see Derek and figure out what is truly going on."
Dr. Deaton smiled. "Yeah, I can do that. Now you should be getting home. Keep an eye on that wound. It should be progressing, even if it's slow. Try and get some sleep, okay?"
"Okay." Stiles gave a slight smile before heading back out to his car.