#scaylor

Scott walked into Derek’s loft to see Taylor standing above the table by the massive window, bandages and bloody paper towels surrounding her. The smell was overwhelming and mixed with some sort of chemical that Scott usually smelled at the hospital. 

“You okay?” Scott asked, brow furrowing as he stepped down into the loft. He saw Taylor make a face and shrug as she dabbed at her wound,

“We live in a world full of werewolves and I managed to hurt myself in the most human way possible.” She glanced over to the side of the loft, making Scott follow her gaze to see a large, heavy looking and broken mirror. She’d obviously tried to lift it by herself and it had slipped, causing her injury, 

“I’d make a joke about seven years of bad luck, but my whole life has just been one big bad luck spell.” Taylor sighed, returning her gaze back to her wound. 

“Looks pretty deep.” Scott’s brow furrowed as he walked over to Taylor, “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Well, not all of us can have the supernatural ability to heal ourselves.” Taylor gave him a wide eyed look and Scott quickly realized she was trying to make a joke, “I can take care of myself juuuusst fine.” Taylor continued, reaching for the gauze pad.

“No, I know.” Scott stepped over to her, "I just…I could help.” He offered, raising his eyebrows at her, “With the pain.” He paused, “Cause, you know…werewolf.” Scott motioned to himself. Taylor eyed him, but didn’t make a move to stop Scott as he reached for her hand on her injured arm. 

She watched as black matter ran up Scott’s forearm and she heard herself let out a relieved sigh as some of the pain was taken away. Scott winced ever so slightly as he hit some deep pain that he wasn’t even aware was there, making Taylor pull her hand away quickly. 

“Thanks.” Taylor mumbled, eyes darting down to see that her cut wasn’t as deep as it was before.