Author's Note: ajhgkaf im sorry these chapters are always so short! ;A; but derek is in this chapter! woah! enjoy :3
When Peter entered the loft Derek didn't look at him at all until the beta made his way into the kitchen and the overpowering stench of sex hit him like a led weight.
"You stink," Derek growled, scrunching his nose like smell was foul. And it was, it was too sweet and reeked of something else he couldn't quite put his finger on.
"Jealous?" Peter's lips quirked up but it didn't reach his eyes. He yanked open the fridge and snatched a water bottle from the top shelf, taking a long and seemingly savoring gulp before looking at his nephew again.
"No," Derek said gruffly, pushing away from the counter if only to achieve more distance between himself and his uncle's offending aroma. "Just take a shower; I don't want you stinking up the place." He tried to rush away from Peter as nonchalantly as possible, grabbing his keys and loping down the stairs.
Peter grinned against the lip of the plastic bottle and took a smaller sip. "Will do," he chirped after Derek in a tone that promised otherwise. Derek only rolled eyes because of course Peter would get the last word.
Stiles' heart dropped to his stomach when he saw Derek in the aisles of the grocery store, and if the alpha was aware of his presence he didn't acknowledge it and simply continued reading the back of a shampoo bottle.
Did he know? Would Peter tell Derek? Would Peter tell anyone?
It had been almost a full twenty four hours since the confusing tryst in the forest and Stiles had taken a long, hot shower and scrubbed at himself for what seemed like hours and still his paranoia coursed through him like a sharp electrical current.
Despite his better judgment, Stiles was determined to act like nothing had happened at all and pushed his cart over to Derek.
"Hey there, Big Bad and Leather Clad! You like Axe?" Stiles nodded at the shower gel in Derek's hand. "I myself prefer Irish Spring, but yeah I guess you would be into that sort of soap. You look it. But I guess you're stunning good looks aren't enough and you just have to smell nice too, huh? Like sex in a can?"
Derek sighed like Stiles was already testing his last nerve and set the bottle back on the shelf.
"You don't smell like it," Derek said deadpan, like it was absolutely normal to go around sniffing teenage boys.
"What?" Stiles nearly jumped back, suddenly reminded of Derek's natural abilities. What else could he smell?
"Irish Spring. You don't smell like it." Derek's eyes left the shelves for a moment to skate once over the boy next to him. "Not today anyway." His eyebrows furrowed like he was confused and edging towards curiosity, but thought better of it and his face fell back into its natural scowl.
"Oh." Stiles cleared his throat and tugged at the collar of his tee shirt, suddenly too hot as a blush crept up his neck. Derek tried his best to look like he didn't notice. "Yeah! I'm, um, trying out this new soap my dad bought me? It's kind of strong, I guess. Different. Can you really smell me from there?" He sniffed at his shirt sleeve himself before shoving it at Derek's face.
Derek quirked a brow and pushed Stile's hand away as gently as he could, motioning between himself and the boy. "It's not like you're in my space or anything, Stiles. Really."
"Oh? Um, oh!" Stiles looked at Derek's hand, finally realizing that he was, in fact, standing just a hair too close to Derek. He jumped back, hands animated and flailing in front of him. "Sorry! Oh my god! I didn't-I-I wasn't, um—"
"It's fine." Derek snapped, not with hostility, but not exactly welcoming either. His hand grabbed at a bottle of shower gel and he tossed it lightly into his own basket. "Bye, Stiles."
"Um, yeah! Bye! I mean, see ya' around? I guess?" Stiles said and waved even when the alpha's back was turned and quickly retreating further into the store. He waved until Derek turned the corner and he slumped against the shelf, scrubbing at his face with the sleeve of his plaid over shirt.
Who said that was good idea? Stiles huffed and pushed himself to his feet again to continue his shopping.
What the hell was that?
Derek sat alone behind the wheel his Toyota, groceries in the seat to his right and his two hands clutching tight at the steering wheel while he stared blankly at near-empty parking lot.
There was no denying at this point that when he looked at Stiles something in his chest stirred and his stomach became unsettled. But that? In the store? He had no idea what to make of it. Before this, he would have been willing to bet money that if Stiles didn't hate him, then he was definitely scared of him. But it had been Stiles who had walked over to Derek, Stiles who had initiated the conversation, and Stiles who stood just inches away from him in the shower appliances aisle of the local super market.
What was he supposed to do with that?
Stiles refused to think about Derek. He absolutely denied himself that.
What had he been thinking? What was so normal about approaching the Beacon Hills alpha like that? He'd never done it before, not without someone else present anyway.
But, while he was absolutely not thinking about Derek Hale, he had to admit that he was looking particularly good that evening. As if it were possible for Derek to look bad. He's seen the guy force a smile and try his best to flirt (bless his emotionally constipated soul) and even that wasn't so bad, even if it was almost painful to look at him without a frown on his face.
Finally, Stile's had enough of not thinking about Derek and absolutely not thinking about Peter and decided to park somewhere and simply not think at all.
So, for the second time that week, Stiles found himself sitting on his jeep at night.
This time, though, he had enough sense to not stop in the woods and instead settled for the abandoned parking lot of a local strip mall. At ten pm in a town like Beacon Hills, all the stores were already closed.
Which of course meant that he was not allowed a moment of peace. He jumped nearly a foot in the air with a frightened yelp when none other than Peter Hale was suddenly standing on the other side of the jeep.
"Jesus Christ, would it kill you Hales to give a guy a heads up!" Stiles gasped, clutching at his chest dramatically.
"Energetic as ever, I see," Peter said, not even looking at Stiles as he ran a hand over the head lights of the jeep, a predatory grin completely audible in his voice.
"Um," Stiles said intelligently.
Peter finally looked at the boy, eyes trailing generously over him before settling on his lips. He smiled, but his gaze was one of hunger.
"You saw Derek today," Peter said, after minutes of silence between them. Stiles' heart thudded against his chest, fear and shame and maybe even arousal sending his pulse rate into a violent uptick.
"Yeah," Stiles rasped, voice shaking as he licked at his lips nervously and tried not to look away from Peter. Did he really want this—a repeat of something he thought he wanted to forget?
"Did you two talk about anything interesting? I know my nephew isn't so personable, you'll have to excuse him on my behalf." Peter slinked closer and Stiles slid off the hood, ready to get in the car and leave at a moment's notice. But Peter caught the second Stiles took to dart his eyes over the door handle and stepped closer. "Are you really so scared of me?" He whispered low into the skin of Stile's throat.
Stiles froze, fists clenched at his sides to keep from grabbing at Peter's shirt with shaking hands and pull him closer. Because, he'll be damned, he liked it—all of it, for some fucked up and intangible reason.
Peter chuckled, his hot breath skating over Stile's skin and sending a shiver through his spine that he just couldn't hold back.
"Tell me, Stiles, what is it that you want?" Peter's hand stroked down Stiles' sternum, stopping short just above his navel with claws that barely grazed over the cotton of his tee shirt.
"I…" Stiles swallowed thickly, "I don't know." His eyes fell to the black asphalt beneath his sneakers but he made no move to back away.
Peter pursed his lips and hummed thoughtfully. "Too bad, but I know what I want," His smile grew wider and for a second time that week Stiles found himself on his aching knees and tasting Peter Hale on his tongue.
