Sciles Week

“Can’t believe what?” Another huff and Malia reaches to turn Scott’s head towards where Theo and Stiles sit on the floor at the coffee table, a mound of Halloween candy being sorted through and empty pillow cases discarded next to them.

“You and Stiles adopted Theo. He’s your kid now.” A snort leaves Scott as a grin breaks over his face. Stiles had insisted on taking Theo out trick-or-treating after learning he hadn’t been since Tara was still alive. Scott and Malia had both gone with them but they didn’t walk up to the houses or wear costumes, just watched as their respected partners did.

“Stiles would find any excuse to go trick-or-treating.” They might be graduating this year but Scott knew that wouldn’t stop Stiles from going out on his favorite holiday.

“Yeah, but you spent the night fussing over Theo and Stiles not running too fast and Stiles had to prompt Theo on what to say for the first like five houses. And now Stiles is checking the candy for razor blades.” Her hand motions over towards the boys again and sure enough; Stiles has a piece of candy broken open while Theo waits patiently to be given it back so he can eat it.

“Stiles used to hate Theo and now look at him, his father.” Theo looks over with a quizzing expression as Scott and Malia chuckle.

"I thought..." Scott clenches his fists. Takes a breath. Sits on the bed.

"You thought what," Stiles asks. He thinks about the bottle of whiskey his dad keeps in the dining room cabinet. The last time he'd stolen it, Allison had broken Scott's heart.

It feels like decades ago that Scott's ex-girlfriend had been their biggest problem.

"I thought I was getting better," Scott finally says through clenched teeth.

"The..." Stiles swallows, can't bring himself to say it. He nods at Scott's chest instead. The thing is- it's supposed to be over. Mason is fine, the day is saved, and he's not going to prison for murder. Stiles is saved.

Scott closes his eyes. His hand flutters to his chest. "I healed when the pack came together to save Lydia."

Lydia is saved.

Kira is gone but being saved.

Everyone is saved.

The only person who isn't, Stiles realizes, startled is Scott. Scott is the one that doesn't need saving. Except he has memories of pushing a sword into his best friend's gut. And memories of the sharp smell of gasoline in a motel parking lot.

Stiles can't bring himself to ask again. The silence between them is no longer comfortable, no longer about companionship. It's full of apologies that need to be spoken, of questions that need to be asked.

It's full of Scott's harsh breathing and his own paralyzing fear. Scott said he understood. That there was nothing to forgive. That he knows the difference between self-defense and murder.

They talked about it. It's supposed to be over.

Scott is supposed to be okay. They're supposed to be okay.

"Getting better how?" Stiles asks quietly.

"When Theo killed me," Scott says into the too-silent room. "I wanted to die."

Stiles counts to ten. Then twenty. Then thirty. The room spins, and Scott sits stiffly on his bed. Everything is still too quiet, and Stiles can't bring himself to speak. He has no idea how to express this with words. How to tell Scott that he's the best thing in everyone's life and that the world is better and will always be better with him in it.

"I'm sorry," Scott says, standing. He takes one step toward the door and Stiles stands and runs the three steps between them. Grabs him by the shoulders and kisses his him on the lips, trying to say with actions what words won't.

Scott pulls away first, gasping for breath again.

"You'd have taken me with you still, you know," Stiles says wiping his eyes. "I'd have tried to kill him and I'm pretty sure I'd lose that fight."

Scott sags a little, but there's the ghost of a smile on his lips.

Stiles pulls him into a hug. "I'm sorry, Scotty. I'm so sorry. I...."

“Do you remember how we met?” He already knows Scott does, he’s heard the story told a million times, but he likes how excited Scott gets when he’s talking about it.

“Of course! We were waiting to be picked up and you came over to me and asked if you could sit next to me, I was leaning against that one big tree that was out in the courtyard, and I had no friends so I said yes. Then we spent the next like hour talking about everything and anything until Noah showed up to take you home.” Stiles hums, leaning his cheek against his hand with a smile watching how happy Scott is.

“And- and then Noah asked if someone was coming to pick me up and I said my dad was supposed to but he obviously hadn’t shown yet. Then you guys drove me home and waited with me until my mom got home, her and Noah got us pizza and we’ve been best friends ever since!” He finishes and Stiles swears he’s never seen someone look so beautiful.

“A little more than best friends now.” Scott blushes furiously and ducks his head away.

“Yeah, a little more.” It’s mumbled, that teenage puppy love still showing across Scott’s features despite how long they’ve been together. Stiles thinks it always will, he’ll always be the one who gets giddy and slightly embarrassed by all the cheesy romance stuff.

“Maybe a lot more.” Stiles leans to press a kiss to Scott’s cheek, hand coming to curl around McCalls, the gold bands on his finger shining under the sunlight streaming through the curtains. They’ve been engaged four months now and Stiles still feels ready to pass out when he thinks about the shared rings on their fingers.

“A lot more. I’d have it no other way.”

“Scott?” Stiles questions when McCall hesitates in the doorway. He never does, he’s been walking into this room like it’s his own since they were seven years old and first met one another. Somehow Scott feels unwelcome in the space now, as if there’s an energy of blame that still lingers, something that remembers how Scott didn’t believe Stiles, that remembers how he flinched away when he saw Stiles walking towards him with that wrench in his hand.

“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks, Stiles walks over within seconds, his hands on Scott’s shoulders with wide eyes of concern when Scott’s chest heaves a breath.

“For what? What happened?” The tears starts to fall down Scott’s cheeks and his mouth hangs open. He doesn’t know what to say, how to say it, how to admit that Theo got into his head so badly that he believed his best friend killed someone when he didn’t have to. When it wasn’t self defense.

“Scott, talk to me. Tell me what’s going on.” They move to sit on Stiles’ bed, Scott’s skin crawls as he does. It doesn’t bring the normal comfort that Stiles’ blankets and pillows usually do, his scent isn’t sweet and homey, it’s pain filled and taunting Scott. Telling him that he doesn’t deserve to be here anymore, he was so naive, Stiles should never forgive him for not believing him from the start. He knew Theo was evil and Scott still fought to prove him wrong, only to do the exact opposite.

“I’m sorry…” He repeats, voice too quiet and shaky. There’s a phantom feeling on rain on his skin, as if he’s standing in that parking lot all over again, staring at Stiles standing across from him, feeling that spike of fear. Of terror. It was real, he flinched because he was scared, he hates himself for it.

“I was scared, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Sobs bubble in his chest but he forces them down and tries to focus on Stiles’ hands that are gripping his shoulders a little too firm.

“Scared of what? What happened?” Scott’s head shakes back and forth, a hand coming to try and wipe his tears away but it’s no use. They just keep pouring down, as if the phantom rain storm on his skin has turned into his eyes spilling tears.

“I didn’t know- I just- I thought- I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please, I’m so—.” He’s cut off when Stiles drags him into a hug, his arms around Scott’s frame as tight as they can be.

“It’s okay Scott, whatever happened, it’s okay.” The reassurances fall on deaf ears.

“It’s not, none of it’s okay.” Absolutely nothing has felt okay since that night, things might’ve calmed down but it doesn’t matter, Scott still feels like his brain is moving a hundred miles per hour. He still feels stuck in fight or flight.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Stiles’ hands move to cup Scott’s cheeks softly, his thumbs brushing the tears off his skin so tenderly Scott feels nauseous. He doesn’t deserve this, the care and love Stiles is offering, it’s not made for Scott anymore. It doesn’t feel earned, he broke Stiles’ trust and let himself get played, the last thing he thinks he deserves is comfort.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come here— I’m sorry.” He pulls away quickly and stumbles to get out of the bedroom, ignoring Stiles’ callings and his footsteps following Scott’s down the stairs.

“Scott wait! Wait—!” The door slams behind him, he starts to run as fast as he can, a pace he knows Stiles won’t be able to keep up with no matter how hard he tries.