It began on a Monday, as most horrible things do. Stiles had started the day off as usual, waking up to the familiar, yet still thoroughly annoying, buzz of his alarm at 6 a.m. hitting the snooze button once (twice, three times, the point was he managed to get out of bed before noon okay) and rolling (literally) out of bed. He threw himself into the shower, scrubbed down in record time and managed to inhale a couple Pop Tarts before zipping out the door at light speed. At exactly 8 a.m. Stiles walked into class and took his usual spot behind Scott. He also took a second to preen because he was clearly a master of time management. Wanting to share his newly (self) appointed title, he glanced over at Scott who had the most bizarre look on his face. Like he was about to throw up or something. And he was looking at Stiles.
“Dude, what’s-” Stiles started to say, just as the teacher decided to start class. Scott shook his head in a distracted kind of way and motioned that they’d talk about it later. Like Stiles could focus now. Sure, Scott’s nose was extra sensitive because of the whole werewolf thing, but if he was making a face like that, it had to be noticeable to normal people. So he spent the rest of class not-so-discreetly smelling his shirt, armpits, breath, and anywhere else on his body he could reach with his nose. Finally the bell took mercy on him and rang, signalling the end of first period.
“Oh my god, is it that bad? I swear I showered this morning. I mean, I didn't get to really work up a good lather and maybe I could have spent some more time washing-”
“Stiles! It’s not…you don’t smell. At least not the way you’re thinking. You just – your scent is weird.” Scott said, wrinkling his nose again and sniffing the air around Stiles.
“Oh.” Stiles said, visibly relaxing, then “Wait, weird how? Like sick weird? Do I have some kind of disease? Am I dying?? Oh god, I’m dying!”
“NO! That’s not what I meant! You just – don’t smell like you?” Scott said, not quite sure how to explain it, but wanting to calm Stiles who was by all appearances about a second away from having a coronary.
“What? Well how is that possible? Do people’s scents normally just change?” The bell for second period chose that moment to go off, so with a placating but ultimately unhelpful,
“No, but we’ll figure it out” from Scott, Stiles was sentenced to wallow about his changed scent and the impending doom it likely signified.