[Derek knew he was staring, but given that Stiles was female - when, up to that point, he'd (she'd?) been incredibly male - he thought he could get away with it for a minute.
He swallows thickly, standing very still. Very, very still.] What. Happened.
AH! [Stiles half-shrieked when he spotted Derek in his mirror, scream going girlishly shrill. One slender hand clutched at his chest in surprise, a small yelp escaping him when he met extra flesh.] Do you even know what a door is?
I don't know. [Stiles turned back to his reflection, eyes wide and frightened.] Oh my God.
I know what a door is. I'm standing next to an open one. [He was just going to stand there, rooted to the spot, and try not to breathe through his nose. Because the change in Stiles' scent as a female was distracting and bad news.] You need to fix this. Now. This is - [His nostrils flared, and damn it. Damn the instinct to breathe.] Fix this.
You don't think I would if I could?! [Stiles' voice squeaked, and he shuddered, wrapping his now-small arms around his torso defensively. He looked at Derek, frowning slightly at his tense expression. Stiles would have figured he'd be amused by a situation like this, but for some reason he seemed angry.] I just woke up like this!
[Derek would've been very amused, if Stiles' scent hadn't been everywhere, and wrong. All female, and sweet, and... and alluring.
Why would his mind supply that word? Why on earth would his mind go there?
He took a step backwards, trying to back his way out of the confines of the bathroom. Such a small room. It was like concentrated femme-Stiles in there.] What were you doing before you went to sleep? Did you make anyone angry?
I was...I was looking up counteracting herbs for Wolfsbane. [Stiles glanced back at the mirror, wondering if this was all some crazy dream - or perhaps he'd died and gone to Hell.] I didn't even leave the house.
[Suddenly, there was a loud banging on his bedroom door, and Stiles jumped, falling over into his bathtub with a thunk. Wake up, Stiles, time for school! Stiles turned over, looking at Derek with a spectacular deer-in-headlights impression as his Dad's voice came through the door.] Oh my God, my dad!
[Derek cast about for some sort of solution. Stiles was female, and his-her-his dad was outside the room. He reached out, fingers curling around the teenager's wrist, and dragged him up out of the tub. His scent hit him full force, and he made a quiet choking sound as he tried to un-smell it. When he spoke, his voice was a low murmur.] Out the window. Into the woods. No one can see you like this. [No one who didn't already know about the supernatural world, anyway.]
Woah! [Stiles squeaked again, being pulled from the tub with more force than usual. Derek must have miscalculated - Stiles was a lot lighter than he had been, probably somewhere near the 90's range instead of the usual, healthy 130-140.]
But my dad! [Stiles hissed, tugging at Derek's sleeve insistently. He paused, noticing the expression on the Alpha's face.] Dude, are you okay?
[Oh his hell. Stiles had already begun to smell like pack before. As a female, there was a terrible mix of pack, and femininity, and something else that he couldn't put a name to.
There was also an overwhelming instinct to protect him as a girl that came rearing its ugly head as he tugged him out of the tub. He hadn't realized how much smaller and lighter he was in a female frame until he grabbed him. How much easier it would be to manhandle him. For Derek - and for others.]
No. I am not okay. We need to leave. Text him and say you left early, and let's go.
[Maybe it would be less overwhelming in the open air. They just needed to get out of the house, where the scent permeated everything.]
...Fine. [Stiles agreed easily, embracing the temporary solution. For once he seriously had no idea what the hell he was going to do, and at least if he went with Derek he wouldn't be completely alone with this.]
[Stiles quickly marched out of the bathroom, glancing around his room. Snatching his lacrosse bag, he dumped the equipment out of it, moving to snatch a few articles of clothing, his laptop, and his phone, Stiles quickly packed the makeshift bag, not bothering to think about the fact that none of the clothes would fit him - including the one he had on now. His boxers were sagging around his small, slightly curvy hips, and the ratty t-shirt he slept in was practically a tent over his equally-shrunken torso.]
...I don't know if I can get out that way. [Stiles frowned at the window, sliding the lacrosse bag strap over his chest and freezing when it squeezed his boob uncomfortably. Instead he awkwardly moved it in between his breasts, cheeks beginning to burn, embarrassed.]
[No. No, Derek did not check out Stiles' boobs when he was adjusting the strap of his bag. No, he didn't. He did not look at his chest.
He also didn't notice how the clothing swamped him. He didn't notice how low the boxers hung on his hips, or how perfectly curved and proportioned those hips were.
He didn't. Because they had other things to worry about. Like escaping through his window, and out into the woods, without getting caught by the sheriff.]
I can hold you. [Stiles was light enough; would be easy to pick up. He could probably carry him the whole way without getting fatigued.] Pick you up and get you out.
[Derek was looking at him funny again, and Stiles shifted nervously, boxers slipping a little on his right hip to expose the soft flesh there. He tugged it back up, letting it slide back down when he realized it wasn't of any use.]
...Whichever's easiest for you. [Stiles replied quietly, eyes flickering back towards the door. His dad was probably going to come back up in a minute, so Stiles had better just suck it up and let Derek carry him. He didn't have the muscles to climb out of his window in this body - not that he really had them before, but he could manage. This...form was way smaller than he was used to, though not unpleasantly so...at least, where it counted.]
[The exposed hip had him swallowing hard, hooking one arm around Stiles' shoulders and the other under his knees to scoop him up. It would be the easiest position to set him down from if he needed to.
He leaped out the window just as he heard Sheriff Stilinski's steps on the stairs, going back up to check on his son. He had them well inside the tree line before the Sheriff was even on the top landing.
And yet, he didn't put Stiles down. He kept him held firmly, and protectively, to his chest as he stalked off in the direction of the train car. It was the only place they could go that was safe.] We can call Allison and have her bring you some clothes that will fit. You look about her size.
[Stiles tightened the bag strap on his chest before securely wrapping his rather delicate-looking arms around Derek's neck, bracing himself for the jump out the window. Surprisingly, he barely felt the impact, legs curled inwards in Derek's bridal carry.]
Um, I can walk... [Stiles started, then trailed off when Derek didn't bother letting him to his feet. Stiles didn't think he had enough muscle to even shift the werewolf, not that he'd had enough to do that when he was a guy, but it was substantially less now. He was never going to live this down once Scott got wind of it; both the turning-into-a-girl thing and the Derek-carrying-him-through-the-forest thing.]
...Sure. [Stiles could sense irritation and discomfort rolling off Derek in waves, so he figured he'd wait to run his mouth until the Alpha saw fit to put him the hell down and save him the embarrassment. No such luck, apparently, but when had Stiles ever been that lucky?] ...Frankly, I think I'm smaller than her.
[That was the easiest explanation to give. Not the one where his instincts were working over time and encouraging him not to let anything happen to the person he was carrying. Including, but not limited to, tripping in the woods in the dark, or getting harassed by any other males they might encounter. Stiles was clumsy, at best. In the dark, he couldn't risk letting him break an ankle or crack his skull.
Additionally, there was the urge to just stay close. To cover him in his own scent. To make him carry the scent of an alpha along with everything else. To ward others off.
He would have to get a handle on those urges if he was going to be able to function around the rest of the pack. He suppressed a growl at the idea of Stiles, all small and delicate, being exposed to any of the betas if they lost control. His eyes flashed briefly red.]
I'm sure Allison will have something for you. It won't matter for long - we're going to figure out what you did and fix it.
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He swallows thickly, standing very still. Very, very still.] What. Happened.
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I don't know. [Stiles turned back to his reflection, eyes wide and frightened.] Oh my God.
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Why would his mind supply that word? Why on earth would his mind go there?
He took a step backwards, trying to back his way out of the confines of the bathroom. Such a small room. It was like concentrated femme-Stiles in there.] What were you doing before you went to sleep? Did you make anyone angry?
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[Suddenly, there was a loud banging on his bedroom door, and Stiles jumped, falling over into his bathtub with a thunk. Wake up, Stiles, time for school! Stiles turned over, looking at Derek with a spectacular deer-in-headlights impression as his Dad's voice came through the door.] Oh my God, my dad!
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But my dad! [Stiles hissed, tugging at Derek's sleeve insistently. He paused, noticing the expression on the Alpha's face.] Dude, are you okay?
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There was also an overwhelming instinct to protect him as a girl that came rearing its ugly head as he tugged him out of the tub. He hadn't realized how much smaller and lighter he was in a female frame until he grabbed him. How much easier it would be to manhandle him. For Derek - and for others.]
No. I am not okay. We need to leave. Text him and say you left early, and let's go.
[Maybe it would be less overwhelming in the open air. They just needed to get out of the house, where the scent permeated everything.]
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[Stiles quickly marched out of the bathroom, glancing around his room. Snatching his lacrosse bag, he dumped the equipment out of it, moving to snatch a few articles of clothing, his laptop, and his phone, Stiles quickly packed the makeshift bag, not bothering to think about the fact that none of the clothes would fit him - including the one he had on now. His boxers were sagging around his small, slightly curvy hips, and the ratty t-shirt he slept in was practically a tent over his equally-shrunken torso.]
...I don't know if I can get out that way. [Stiles frowned at the window, sliding the lacrosse bag strap over his chest and freezing when it squeezed his boob uncomfortably. Instead he awkwardly moved it in between his breasts, cheeks beginning to burn, embarrassed.]
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He also didn't notice how the clothing swamped him. He didn't notice how low the boxers hung on his hips, or how perfectly curved and proportioned those hips were.
He didn't. Because they had other things to worry about. Like escaping through his window, and out into the woods, without getting caught by the sheriff.]
I can hold you. [Stiles was light enough; would be easy to pick up. He could probably carry him the whole way without getting fatigued.] Pick you up and get you out.
Or carry you on my back.
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...Whichever's easiest for you. [Stiles replied quietly, eyes flickering back towards the door. His dad was probably going to come back up in a minute, so Stiles had better just suck it up and let Derek carry him. He didn't have the muscles to climb out of his window in this body - not that he really had them before, but he could manage. This...form was way smaller than he was used to, though not unpleasantly so...at least, where it counted.]
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He leaped out the window just as he heard Sheriff Stilinski's steps on the stairs, going back up to check on his son. He had them well inside the tree line before the Sheriff was even on the top landing.
And yet, he didn't put Stiles down. He kept him held firmly, and protectively, to his chest as he stalked off in the direction of the train car. It was the only place they could go that was safe.] We can call Allison and have her bring you some clothes that will fit. You look about her size.
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Um, I can walk... [Stiles started, then trailed off when Derek didn't bother letting him to his feet. Stiles didn't think he had enough muscle to even shift the werewolf, not that he'd had enough to do that when he was a guy, but it was substantially less now. He was never going to live this down once Scott got wind of it; both the turning-into-a-girl thing and the Derek-carrying-him-through-the-forest thing.]
...Sure. [Stiles could sense irritation and discomfort rolling off Derek in waves, so he figured he'd wait to run his mouth until the Alpha saw fit to put him the hell down and save him the embarrassment. No such luck, apparently, but when had Stiles ever been that lucky?] ...Frankly, I think I'm smaller than her.
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[That was the easiest explanation to give. Not the one where his instincts were working over time and encouraging him not to let anything happen to the person he was carrying. Including, but not limited to, tripping in the woods in the dark, or getting harassed by any other males they might encounter. Stiles was clumsy, at best. In the dark, he couldn't risk letting him break an ankle or crack his skull.
Additionally, there was the urge to just stay close. To cover him in his own scent. To make him carry the scent of an alpha along with everything else. To ward others off.
He would have to get a handle on those urges if he was going to be able to function around the rest of the pack. He suppressed a growl at the idea of Stiles, all small and delicate, being exposed to any of the betas if they lost control. His eyes flashed briefly red.]
I'm sure Allison will have something for you. It won't matter for long - we're going to figure out what you did and fix it.
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