The drive to school was silent not because Stiles was giving Scott the silent treatment for exposing their night of excitement, even though he surely deserved it, but because Stiles was mainly focused on the amazing and somewhat disturbing discovery that he could hear each beat of his best friend's heart.
As if hearing his friend's heart wasn't strange enough he was also assaulted by a variety of smells: the half of burger he had thrown in the back of his jeep last week, the spearmint gum in Scott's pocket, and the perfume the lady and the car next to him was wearing. His vision flickered between his usual excellent eyesight to zeroing in on the smallest detail that he shouldn't be able to see.
All and all it was giving him a headache and he wished that he could have just stayed in bed this morning.
Stiles' hearing fixated on the soft sound made by Scott opening and closing his hand while running his nails along his jean's outside seam. It was a nervous habit he had since childhood though Stiles had never really thought about it until now. Today, however, it was going to drive him mad.
"Look, I'm sorry I slipped up with your dad." The strange tang in the air intensified briefly and Stiles' hind brain catalogued it as discomfort. The heartbeat he had been listening to picked up again before settling down to a more normal rhythm.
He wasn't. Sorry that is. Stiles let his eyes drift over to his friend as he asked, "You mean you DIDN'T tell him on purpose?"
The slight up-tick was back, the beat picking up speed for just a second before returning to normal. "Of course not, I didn't want to get you in trouble." Not a lie but definitely not the truth either.
"I know you wanted to tell him something. Was it the body? You needed to tell him about that?"
Scott looked over in shock. Stiles didn't look angry just slightly disappointed as if dealing with a small child who had taken too many cookies before dinner. "He needed to know about the body. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."
Stiles nodded, head tilted to hear the steady beat that promised the truth was spoken. He didn't even stop to think about how strange it was for him to be listening to Scott's heartbeat until he pulled into the parking lot at school.
As soon as he looked at the students milling about the school grounds he was flooded with their voices, each one sounding like they were standing right next to him and shouting out their conversation. Leaning against the steering wheel Stiles clutched his head in a feeble attempt to block the riot of noise.
So focused on the wave upon wave of sound, Stiles didn't hear or acknowledge his friend until Scott grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back from the wheel. He snapped back to his surroundings with a startled yell and a flailing of his limbs.
"What the hell, Stiles?"
"I'm okay. Everything just got really loud all of a sudden." Now Stiles could hear his own heart give a tail-tale thump at his lie.
"Do you want me to take you to the nurse?"
Stiles shook his head. He didn't like nurses or doctors and if he never had to see one again it would be just perfect in his book. He knew something was off but he why worry when burying your head in the sand for a little while longer is still an option.
Scott's heartbeat picks up as his eyes focus on something behind Stiles. Turning slightly Stiles can see Lydia and Allison walking toward the doors and notices that his own heartbeat has picked up as well, matching the frantic thump of his friends. Once he looks at the two girls hearing their conversation somehow becomes easy.
"I think he's cute. I mean, come on, his eyes are just adorable."
"McCall? Scott McCall? He's Steve's friend."
"Uh…I think its Stiles."
"What's a stiles? Whatever. I just think you can seriously do better."
Stiles let his head bump the steering wheel in a slow beat. "She doesn't even know my name." Since third grade he had loved Lydia and he didn't even register enough on her radar for her to know his name.
"What are you talking about?" Scott was torn between eyeing the love of his life and worrying about his friend who was acting stranger than usual even for Stiles.
"Allison thinks you are cute and Lydia doesn't even remember my name."
Scott's look of utter shock and amazed hope was truly endearing even if it made him look like the village idiot. "She thinks I'm cute? Do you think I should ask her out?" Twisting the rear view mirror Scott checked his hair in the mirror and gave a quick sniff to check the ripeness of his clothes. "God, I wish I had worn something else. Wait!" Scott was half way out the door before his brain kicked in and over rode his libido. "How did you hear that?" Sliding back in he slammed the door behind him and put a hand on the back of Stiles' head which was still beating against the wheel.
"I don't know; I can just hear them like they're standing right next to me. Lydia is complementing Allison on her taste in clothing and Allison just said that jacket is her favorite."
"Wow. You practically have a super power or something." Pausing Scott's face took on a slightly worried expression. "I saw this movie once where a guy started getting all these super powers, it turned out that he just had a brain tumor and he died."
Stiles rolled his head in Scott's direction, mouth gapping in astonishment. "How are we even friends? Way to be supportive. 'Hey, that's so cool that you might have a massive brain tumor and die' isn't really a great thing to throw into a conversation. Way to make me feel all safe and NON-terminal dude"
Scott blushed and dropped his head. "Sorry I didn't think." He paused at Stiles' snort. "Did you hear anything else that she said about me?"
"OH. MY. GOD." Stiles slammed his way out of the jeep and stormed up the stairs into the school passing right under one of the speakers just as the first bell rang. The siren like wail drove him to his knees covering sensitive ears as he curled in on himself for protection against the horrid sound. When the bell shut off he found himself surrounded by staring classmates' expressions ranging from amusement and out right laughter to unease and worry.
"Hey, just a migraine headache. Nothing to see here." Scott reached him as he got to his feet and pulled him inside to their lockers.
"What is going on with you?" Scott asked as he steered him down the hallway to their adjoining lockers.
"I have no idea." Closing his locker and leaning heavily against it Stiles stared into space for a minute as Scott's questions washed over him. His nose flared as he picked up on a strange scent coming down the hall. It smelled of earth, rich and dark paired with the taste of ozone after a hard storm. A thin dark haired boy, obviously a freshman, hurried down the hallway only to stumble to a stop in front of Stiles. He looked startled and then his eyes narrowed sending a shiver down Stiles spine.
Stiles pushed himself off his locker to stand at his full height just as the boy took a step toward him. He would never know what would have happened because Scott grabbed his arm at that exact moment to drag him off to chemistry so they wouldn't be late. Again.
Chemistry was hell on good days. On days that he was hearing the impossible and smelling strange scents at every turn it was just demonic, as in ninth circle of hell bad. Harris seemed to purposefully drag the chalk across the board in such a way that it created the highest pitched squeals possible. Stiles thought that his ears would be bleeding before class was even over. To add to his discomfort he could smell a chemical stench that made his eyes water and his nose burn. And like a blood red cherry on top of his 'fuck my life' sundae was the pain radiating up his arm.
From the bones of his wrist where his wooden bracelet rested and up to his shoulder alternating waves of burning and itching flowed. His side where he was bit seemed to throbbing in tandem with the waves.
Ignoring the growing board of notes he should be coping, Stiles begins to write a list of weird symptoms that he has been experience for the last few hours. Slightly alarmed by the growing list Stiles folds it up and passes it to Scott for his opinion. His best friend looks intently at the paper before writing and handing it back to Stiles.
Do you think I should ask Alison out for this weekend?
Stiles is too busy shooting eye daggers at the back of his friends head to notice Harris stalking up behind him to snatch the note from his fingers.
"Maybe you need to spend some time with me in detention today Mr. Stilinski? Or do you think you can pay attention in my classroom for the duration of the period."
"Yes sir, I mean no sir. I mean, yes I can pay attention."
"Good." Stiles spent the rest of the period focused on the notes and not of the whispered questions from Scott about his weekend dilemma.
When the bell rang Stiles was out the door and half way down the hall before Scott could even gather up his things. Ducking into the bathroom Stiles checked the wound on his side which had finally stopped throbbing. He couldn't hold back the small meeping sound that escaped from his lips when he saw that the wound, it was almost completely healed but now was outlined in a starburst pattern of black veins that traveled up his side and around to his back.
He inhaled a sharp "fuck" at the sight.
The sudden burning sensation in his skin took him by surprise, he felt like he was burning up. Hissing through clinched teeth he splashed cool water on his face and wet paper towels to rub across his stomach and chest. Holding his head down in the sink Stile was letting cool water flow over the back of his head when the scent of ozone hit him. He turned and watched as the dark haired boy crept into the bathroom and up to the sink next to him.
Stiles could feel a rumble building in his throat as he kept an eye on the smaller boy. Washing his hands in the sink next to Stiles the dark haired freshman seemed to ignore him but Stiles could feel his attention, feel him like the creep of spider legs across his skin. The rumble in his chest grew, expanded until his body hummed with its sub vocal power.
How long does it take someone to wash their hands? Stiles was on the edge, ready to do something when the bell rang. After a few more seconds of staring the boy left the bathroom, backing slowly toward the door never turning his back. Stiles remained behind deciding to skip second period entirely as he struggled with his over - heated skin and strange black markings
The rest of the day is a confused blur. Everywhere he turns he is assaulted by sights, sounds, and smells. Girls walk by in clouds of perfume that he can almost see, his eyes randomly center on the strangest things, a student's lock down the hall where he can see the individual numbers as it is turned to the pink stain on the vice principal's shirt that is the exact hue as the dance teacher's lip stick.
His nose flares as he picks up the scent of copper and turned earth. Isaac turns the corner and the smell intensifies. Stiles immediately focuses on the small speck of blood on the collar of Isaac's shirt. Meeting Stiles' gaze for a split second, Isaac drops his eye immediately and moves off down the hall like wounded prey. Stiles finds the rumble in his chest has returned and intensified. Even though they can't hear it, the students in the hallway react to it, moving just a bit further away from Stiles and opening up a pathway for him to walk down the hall.
Even lunch, the only period of the day he can truly relax is ruined. He almost gags in the line, the abrasive stench of cleaners and bleach burning their way up his sinuses. It becomes even worse when he bites into his burger and practically throws it up.
"What's wrong?" Scott looks over at him in concern.
"It tastes wrong. Like it's been dipped in chemicals or something. You try it." Pushing it over the table to his friend Stiles sat back with his arms crossed as he watched him take a bite. The look of revulsion he was expecting never appeared.
"It tastes fine."
"Crap." Stiles mentally added taste buds gone bad to his growing list of symptoms. Deep in the pit of his stomach he was starting to think that Scott's brain tumor hypothesis was not too far off.
Keeping his head down and trying to block out the weirdness that had somehow become his life, Stiles made it through the rest of the day. He was half way out of his shirt, head buried in the cloth and arms flinging partially limp sleeves around his head when he heard Scott's sudden intake of breath.
"Fuck. Stiles what is THAT?"
Twirling blind Stiles managed to trip over the bench and sprawl at his friend feet before getting the double layer of shirts peeled off his body. "What? What's what?"
Scott pointed to his chest, eyes wide and mouth set in a line of disgust. Looking down Stiles could see a red rash, its edges raised above the unaffected skin that traveled from his inner elbow up his arm almost like the surface of his skin was boiling, spreading across his shoulder and down his back and side.
"Did you get bit by something?" Stiles had to stop, totally ignore his growing panic and fear, to look at his best friend and apparent moron in utter bewilderment.
"Yeah, genius. A WOLF, remember last night, the woods, me screaming and running and the blood all over my shirt. Yes, I was bit by something."
Scott at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "I know, I just meant maybe something bit you that you were allergic too, a spider or something. You know something strange."
"Right, because a wolf bite that disappears by morning is just so very normal."
Rolling his eyes at the village idiot masquerading as his best friend Stile finished getting dressed for practice and ran out toward the field. Today was scrimmage practice. As usual Coach had them divided into his A team and B team. Stiles looked down at the crusty white jersey and wondered, not for the first time, if having a color that so easily showed blood was the best uniform choice for the team that was about to be driven into the ground.
Stiles is still contemplating colors and his impending embarrassment at the hands of Jackson and company when the whistles blows. Jackson blitzes down the field slamming his shoulder into Scott, sending him flying briefly to land shoulder first a few feet away.
Running to his side, Stiles was relieved to see his friend climbing to his feet on his own. "Hey, it's just practice," he yells to a smug looking Jackson.
"It's thinking like that keeping you two losers on the bench." The careless smirk Jackson flashes at him as he jogs by makes Stiles' blood boil.
Coach barely blows the whistle and Jackson is down the field taking Scott out again with another blow to the shoulder that leaves the teen dazed on the field. Stiles ignores the mumbled 'I'm okay' and helps Scott back to his feet.
The blood pounds in his head, a red haze films over his vision tinting the world in a ruddy hue. It feels like he is moving through thickened air as Stile returns to his position on the field, focused on Jackson and the ball. The rhythmic thudding of his teammates hearts blend into a low hum of static background noise as Stiles waits, weight shifted forward on toes and breath stilled in his chest.
At the whistle he darts down the field. The rest of the players seems to move in slow motion and it is almost too easy to reach out with his stick and snatch the ball away mid pass. He takes off down the field toward the goal tracking the sluggish motion of the two players that move in to block his path ahead. Their muscles bunch and the tilt of their bodies telegraph their direction and Stiles is able to switch his course with a twist of his hips and a step turn to the right, weaving through the opposing force as if they were standing still.
A third comes in to block him with his body and Stiles just lets himself pause, a slight pulling back in his chest and a tilt or his chin, and the boy is barreling past him. With the goal wide open, only Danny standing between him and scoring, Stiles puts on a last burst of speed, curling in mid leap to fire the ball into the goal.
The sound of the whistle cuts through Stiles bringing the world back into focus. The voices of Scott and his team finally register as they scream and cheer at his goal. Scott pounds on his back in joy. "Way to go Stiles, that was awesome."
"Stilinski, "Coach bellows. "Get your ass over here." As soon as Stiles is in range, Coach grabs his face mask and pulls him close. "What the HELL was that?"
Blinking from the smell of garlic and what could possibly be a dead skunk, Stiles fought for the correct response to the question. "A goal?"
"Damn straight, now do it again." With a ringing slap to the back of the helmet and a push of the face plate, Coach sent Stiles trotting back to the field for another run. Jackson snarls as he faces off against him, digging his stick into the dirt at his feet.
"Just luck asshole. Enjoy your moment because it's over." The whistle blows. The world shrinks to the sound of his heart and the small white ball. Lub dub. He twists his wrist and scoops the ball into his net. Lub dub. Jackson's shoulder is pressed with his and Stiles uses the counter push to turn against him and spins. Lub dub. The field and players seem to flash by and he finds himself in front of the goal. Lub dub. The ball wizzes from his stick and past Danny
Stiles can only stand mouth ajar and eyes blinking in shock, looking widely at Danny. "That was a goal? Dude, did I just score?"
Danny smiles past his own shock and pats him on the shoulder. "Nice play." There is a reason that everyone likes Danny.
The rest of the practice is more of the same. After another two effortless goals Stiles begins to think that the team is playing some sort of elaborate practical joke on him and he begins to get angry. Really fucking angry.
He can feel his skin getting hotter, his lungs burn, and he has a tingling pain at the tips of his fingers and along his gums. The whistle signaling the end of practice finally rings and he storms off to the lockers slamming his kit downs as he goes.
Scott trots at his side, picking up the discarded helmet and handing it back to him. "You were amazing out there today. Keep that up and you will be first string in no time."
Stiles just growls in response as he strips off the rest of his gear. He is down to his pads when Jackson pushes into his space and backs him up until he is pressed between the cold lockers and Jackson's overly muscled chest.
"Who the hell do you think you are? I don't know what you took but you're not gonna get away with it you little shit."
Stiles pushes him back lifting Jackson off his feet. "I don't know what game you are playing with me but you need to stop. I don't need your pity or your fucking mind games." Jackson face turns red as Stiles' grip begins to cut off his air and Scott franticly pulls at Stiles to get him to release his hold on the jock.
With a snarl Stiles turns and pushes Scott away from his. The force throws Scott to the floor where he slides back until he hits one of the benches. "What is wrong with you? God, I can't believe you're taking something. Stiles you don't want to do that."
"I'm not! I would never." Turning to face the team that has become silent as they watch the drama unfold before then, Stiles roars, "I'm not on drugs!" It's not until he is faced with the dent in the locker that he realizes that he threw a punch.
Staring at the dent, Jackson smirks his trademark asshole grin. "Yeah, cause that," he gestures to the massive indention, "is completely normal for you."
The feeling that there is not enough air in the room intensifies and Stiles finds himself right up in Jackson's face, forcing the teen to take a step back. "I. Am. Not. Taking. Drugs."
"Okay, okay, whatever you say."
Suddenly Stiles is flooded by a smell that seems to come from all the boys, it is acid and tangy with just a hint of sweetness…fear, he realizes, fear of him. . Wide eyed he stares at them, most of whom won't met his eyes and then he bolts, grabbing his shirt from the bench as he runs out the door and away from the school.
He doesn't even head for his jeep just into the forest where the shade and darkness seems to sooth him. He is still feeling off but the forest makes it bearable.
There is a rustle and a pair of eyes. A scent that he almost recognizes fills him, and he lunges into an attack. His stalker is monstrous, with pointed ears and a fanged jaw. Using speed that Stiles didn't know he possessed, he dodged away from the first attack keeping just out of reach. The sound of the blows that do breach Stiles defenses make him realize how much power it being put into each strike yet he is an equal match.
Stiles quickly tires of being on the defensive, his blood thirst for this fight, anger and frustration that had been building within him all day finally being given an outlet. His first punch staggers the wolf-like creature back a step. But his second is blocked, clawed hands gripping vice like around his wrist. With a twist, Stiles breaks free but not before his bracelet his forced against the clawed hand. With a hiss of pain the creature releases his hand but not before the bracelet broke, scattering the beads on the ground.
His body clinches and releases at the same time and Stiles is brought to his knees in almost pain. He watches his hands become claws and can feel the change to his ears and teeth.
Once the change is over he stands in the forest with the other watching as he takes in great gasping breaths.
"What the hell happened to me?"
"You were bitten"
"Yeah, and then I got better."
The creature nods. "Well, yeah, werewolves tend to heal quickly."
"Oh. Shit."
