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Scott’s didn’t envision this when he decided to cut through the woods that morning on his way home from work. It had been a long night at Beacon Hills Memorial: three men had been admitted in various degrees of pain (broken ribs, broken fingers and hands, one guy had a metal pipe through his shoulder). When he finally left the next morning, after a 12-hour shift, Scott had been looking forward to two things: food and sleep as soon as humanly possible.
What he gets; however, is a naked man on the porch of the house deep in the woods unconscious and seemingly bleeding from, well, everywhere.
Scott springs into Nurse Mode instantly. He runs forward and immediately checks to see if the man is still breathing and thankfully he is albeit very, very shallowly.
“Hey. Hey, can you hear me? Can you hear me?” Scott jostles the man gently but gets no response, “shit, shit. What’s this--?” He looks to see something clenched in his right fist and when he pries it open it’s to discover a bronze key. He looks from the key to the door and the man’s still unconscious, bloodied body before he makes his decision.
Getting in the house is easy, dragging the man into it proves harder, and getting him to a place where he doesn’t look like one, big bruise is a whole other thing.
The inside of the house is barely one. It’s almost completely bare except for an old black couch in the middle of the living room that Scott lays the man on. It’s a two-story with four bedrooms that Scott runs frantically through in order to find some type of first aid kit. Surprisingly in the biggest room is a pretty decent one equipped with most of what Scott will need.
The man wakes up exactly once while Scott lifts him to bandage his bruised ribs after wiping him down and ridding him of all the blood and dirt that was caked on him. He doesn’t so much as jolt more like lunges up to fix Scott with a glare.
“Um hi…I’m--”
“This is private property.” He rasps before falling back on the couch.
“Ok.” Scott says to his newly unconscious form before he gets back to work on him.
When he’s done and satisfied Scott gets up and goes to the kitchen sink to dump out the muddy, bloody water to swap it out for a fresh bucket. He returns to the living and almost drops the bucket when he sees the empty couch. He definitely drops the bucket when a hand closes around his throat from behind.
“Tell me why I shouldn’t snap your neck.”
“Because I’m the guy that saved your life?” Scott’s voice trembles. His heart rate has spiked. Oh no, he thinks just as his lungs start to close up. His asthma, although considerably worse in high school, always made an appearance during times of high emotion or high level of physical activity. Fear…fear is pretty high right now.
He stumbles forward as the man almost pushes him forward. Scott drops to his knees and tries in vain to catch his breath. His vision is blurring and he knows it’s not long before he passes out.
“Where’s your inhaler?”
Scott just pats at the left pocket of his uniform over and over again trying to get the thing out. Things are going in and out and Scott feels himself fading and then there’s plastic pressed to his mouth and his lungs filling up with medicine. It takes three puffs before he can breathe again. He looks up finally to come face to face with blue-green (gray?) eyes staring at him.
“Thank you.”
“We’re even.” He says before he collapses yet again onto Scott.
“Damn it.” Scott curses from beneath him.
The third time he wakes, thankfully, it’s normal.
“Please don’t try to kill me again.” Scott says immediately.
“Who are you?”
“Scott.”
“How’d…you get here?” He asks through careful breaths.
“I was taking a shortcut. I found you on the porch.”
“You’ve seen my face.”
“You were kind of…naked? Just so you know I’m well acquainted with at least three police officers. One of whom is my best friend who will definitely notice if I go missing.”
“That’s not helping your case.”
“How about I could’ve called one of those three anytime while you were out but I didn’t.” Scott tries.
The man takes another painful inhale, “Why not?”
“It’s not fair for you to get arrested just for saving people when the cops can’t.” Scott answers and waits for a denial that never comes. He’d suspected when he was almost choked out. But now, with no attempt at a denial, he knows for sure.
He just saved The Lycan’s life. It’s a name the vigilante acquired in the year and a half since he emerged: a man that could turn into a wolf who seemed to heal incredibly fast. He’d single-handedly taken down a few crime syndicates that had popped up in Beacon City. Scott had seen evidence of his work, heard about it too: the enormous wolf that stopped Mason Hewitt from getting jumped in an alley, tore the arm out of the socket of a man that tried to assault Hayden Romero, left thieves black and blue, saved Scott’s mom from a mugging.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome…” Scott says and trails off, “Lycan?”
He raises his eyebrow.
Scott shrugs, “Can I at least get your name?”
“Derek.”
Derek.
--
Scott. Scott Ángel Delgado McCall, 24 years old. Night nurse at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. Mother: Melissa Delgado McCall, former Nurse, newly retired. Father: Rafael McCall, FBI, estranged.
It had started as simple recon. Derek wanted to know everything about this man who had saved his life and had not called a single authority or newspaper to tell the tale of The Lycan. Derek still wasn’t sure about the name, but there was really nothing to do about it now.
He was “The Lycan.” He hadn’t meant to use his powers to become some vigilante. In fact, he’d always resented these powers that had come about when he was 18, on the way back home, with his family. There had been an accident; some drunk driver that ran them off the road. His mutant gene had activated and he hadn’t been able to save everyone: just himself and his two sisters (his parents and Uncle had perished).
It was his older sister Laura that had brought him back to Beacon City. She’d gotten in some trouble with some loan sharks after blowing through most of her part of her inheritance. He’d gotten back too late. By the time he arrived she was already gone. His crusade had started as revenge: getting justice for his sister and now had turned into something more.
It gave him purpose. A way to exercise the rage and sadness he still felt. Beating down criminals was better than getting in bar fight after bar fight.
“Stay still.” Scott admonishes as Derek squirms on the couch, “I can’t get all this glass if you keep moving. What did you do…put your whole body through a window?”
“More or less.” Derek answers lying face down on the couch while Scott picks fragments of glass out of his back with tweezers.
“Jesus Christ, Derek.” Scott mutters.
“Did you want me to let them get away with a small arsenal of automatics they could sell to the highest bidder?” Derek questions.
“I’d rather you didn’t throw yourself through a glass door.” Scott says, “Mutant healing powers or not. Stop. Moving.”
Just like Derek had never expected to become some type of superhero, he had also never expected to find an ally and yet here Scott was. It wasn’t just the convenience of having someone else to help with his wounds. But for the past year and half Derek had been by himself: training and honing his powers, at first focused solely on finding and punishing those who had killed his sister and then later cleaning up the streets. If he was honest, he’d admit that it was lonely.
It was less lonely now.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Scott asks when Derek moves to get up.
“There’s more glass?”
“No there’s no more glass. But that doesn’t mean you can just move. They have to heal.”
“They will.”
“I know.” Scott says and just stares him down.
It’s a staring contest that doesn’t long before Derek slumps back on the couch, then he rolls his eyes when Scott beams at him. His wounds don’t take too long to heal.
He doesn’t mean to drift but it happens anyway. Scott’s voice is soothing and comforting as he tells him about his adventures in gardening with his mother. It’s nice.
It’s nice to have an ally; to have someone to talk to and to talk to him. When he wakes up again it’s early morning. Scott is slumped in the chair opposite him sleeping soundly. Derek gets up from the couch and stretches his newly-healed body. Scott is easy to pick up and carry to the bed. He tucks him in, brushes a stray curl from his forehead. There’s an urge there. Derek is so close, he’s right there. A few more inches and he could place a soft kiss to Scott’s lips.
The thought is like a bucket of cold water on Derek. He can’t do this. He chances one last glance at Scott’s sleeping form before he disappears into the morning.
--
“Helloooo Nurse.”
Scott’s shoulders slump just a little at the heckling. This doesn’t happen very often at all. But there are times (times like now apparently) where some random person will call out to him. Usually Scott just gives a curt nod and keeps moving.
Tonight he’s tired. Tonight he worked, on his day off, a double because of a big pile up on the highway that had everyone scrambling around. His bus came later than usual and he forgot his headphones at home. All Scott wants to do is walk this last block to his apartment, put on some pajamas, and go to sleep for a good few hours without interruption.
Scott doesn’t give a nod tonight. He just keeps walking confidently staring straight ahead. It doesn’t work.
“I was talking to you, Nurse. Didn’t hear me?” Scott can smell the liquor on his breath as the man puts an arm around his shoulder.
“It is awfully rude.”
There’s two of them. They have a dangerous look in their eye. Scott’s unsure of whether they want to rob him or much worse and he doesn’t plan on finding out. Scott stops walking abruptly and strikes immediately. He stomps his foot as hard as he can on one the men (not hard enough to break anything since he’s still in his nurse shoes) and lands a punch to the other’s throat. He’s not completely helpless.
The element of surprise works in his favor. He has just enough time to run away from them; sadly, it’s not quite enough time.
He gets caught around the waist and slammed to the asphalt while one of the men gets on top of him. Scott tries to block the punch but it lands on his cheek anyway. The kick to the ribs takes the breath out of him. He readies himself for another blow…that doesn’t come.
Instead he hears a growl, a scream, and suddenly the weight on top of him is lifted.
Derek—no, the Lycan is kind of terrifying. He’s about three times bigger than a regular wolf with jet black fur and icy blue eyes. Scott is struck as he sees Derek fling one of the men against the wall and advance on the other. He tries to kick at Derek and fails miserably. Derek drags him down by the ankle and leaps on top of him, fangs bared and ready to—
“Don’t! Please.” Scott gaps out. He’s sure that Derek won’t listen to him, will tear the man’s throat out anyway, but he doesn’t. Instead he takes the front of his shirt in his mouth, lifts him, and slams him to the ground effectively knocking him out.
“I’m ok. I’m ok.” Scott reassures once Derek comes to him snuffling at his face.
They manage to actually make it to Scott’s apartment building without incident. Scott has to go in by himself (Derek is still in wolf form and even out of it, he would just be stark naked). He manages to make it in the elevator and to his apartment door that opens right away.
He literally falls forward right into Derek’s waiting arms.
“Thank you.” Scott says from where he’s lying in his bed. There’s gauze on his cheek and an ice pack on his ribs. He’s sure they’re just bruised and not broken. They still hurt like hell.
“You don’t have to thank me.” Derek says to him. He’s sitting in a chair by Scott’s bed in Scott’s sweats that are too small for him and one of his shirts that is too tight for him.
“But I will, anyway. Thank you.” Scott says. He shifts and feels a sharp pain to his ribs. He hisses in pain and closes his eyes. He’s surprised when Derek is on his feet immediately and places his hand on the injured area. It’s like the pain is being drained out of him. When he opens his eyes he sees black veins running up Derek’s arms, “How—how are you doing that?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve…I’ve never done that before.” Derek says his voice full of the same wonder as Scott. It’s also a little strained.
“You’re taking my pain. Derek, stop you could hurt yourself.” Scott tries to pull away but as soon as he breaks contact the pain comes soaring back, “fuck.”
“I can handle it.” Derek says.
“So can I.” Scott says back.
“Don’t be stubborn about this.”
“No.”
“You’re hurt, Scott.”
“That doesn’t mean you should too.” Scott tells him.
“Let me fucking help you.” Derek growls.
“Not with that attitude.”
Derek gives a long suffering sigh.
“Fine.” Scott says and pulls his hand away when Derek reaches out, “there’s Mortrin in my medicine cabinet.”
“You’re still here.” Scott says when he wakes the next morning and Derek is sitting in the same chair that he was when Scott fell asleep the night before.
“Of course I’m still here.” Derek frowns. His face makes an almost perfect upside down U.
“It’s just—you’re usually gone after I patch you up.” Scott explains.
“I didn’t get hurt.” Derek tells him.
“I just meant—I’m ok, now. You don’t have to stay. If you know…you have other things to do.” Scott stammers.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“I didn’t say that. I’m just…saying. I’m just saying.” Scott ends lamely. He actually appreciates Derek staying but he doesn’t want to take him away from whatever responsibilities he has when he’s not Lycan.
Derek tilts his head just slightly, “You should answer your phone.”
“Answer my--?” Scott questions and is startled when his cell phone starts ringing, “how do you do that?” he mumbles before he answers.
“Hi, honey.” It’s Maryse. She’s the head nurse at BHM and Scott knows what that tone of voice means, “I know today is supposed to be your day off but do ya think you could come in? We could really use the help.”
Scott feels bad when he has to tell her, “I can’t. I’m sorry. I’m not…I’m doing too good.” He doesn’t even have to lie.
She provides him with the perfect reason why, “Is that virus finally creepin up on ya?”
“Looks like it.” Scott tells her.
“Alright, honey. You feel better, alright?”
“Ok, thanks Maryse.” He says and hangs up.
“How do you like your eggs?”
“What?”
“Eggs: scrambled, fried, over-easy, sunny side up?”
“Fr…ied?”
“Good.” Derek says and gets up.
“Derek!” Scott calls and tries to get out of bed but he gets tangled in the sheets and pain shoots through his torso.
Derek comes to him immediately to hold him still, “Stop trying to move. I’ll bring those eggs to you, ok?”
“You don’t have to do this.” Scott says after taking a few deep breaths.
“I’m going to take care of you for once alright?” Derek says firm.
“Ok, ok.” Scott finally relents, “can I also get bacon.”
“Of course.”
--
“I got it.” Derek says when he sees Scott reaching for the plates where their turkey club sandwiches were.
Scott sighs exasperated, “I’m fine now Derek. The swelling has gone down and it doesn’t hurt as much. See?”
He lifts his shirt to prove it. He’s right. The swelling has gone down considerably and while there are bruises they don’t look as painful as they did two days ago.
“I got it.” He still says and takes the plates away.
“I’m not helpless, Derek.”
“I know that.” Derek says as he walks to the dishwasher.
It’s true that he may be hovering. But there was something about seeing Scott, hurt at the hands of those two men that made Derek feel a rage he hasn’t felt since Laura. He wanted to protect and defend Scott in a different way than the want to protect other people.
He couldn’t quite do it—couldn’t stop Scott getting hurt in the first place. So, now he’s probably overcompensating.
“Don’t you have some kind of job to get to?” Scott asks him from the couch.
“You trying to get rid of me?” Derek turns and leans back against the sink.
Scott shrugs, “I didn’t say that. But you have to have somewhere to go when you’re not busy throwing criminals around.”
Derek looks at him for a long time. He hasn’t shared much at all about his personal life to Scott. Sure, they talk. Mostly, Scott talks: about his family, work, his friends. Derek mostly just listens. The only thing Scott knows is his name and the reason for his becoming a vigilante was the death of his sister. He doesn’t know anything else.
“I work from home.” He finally says. Derek had always been well off. After the death of his family, he had inherited a hefty portion of it. Topped with life insurance money, a few smart investments, and his frugal living Derek was well taken care of. He owned a few buildings in the city that made him more money. He doesn’t tell any of this to Scott.
“That’s all I get?” Scott asks. Derek quirks an eyebrow instead of answering. Scott rolls his eyes and gets up to go to the bathroom but not before adding, “I’m really going to miss these heart-to-heart conversations.”
Derek actually smiles before turning back to the dishes. He’s just finished drying off the last cup when he hears a thud and a pained curse. It’s no time at all before he’s flung the bathroom door open to cradle Scott’s face in his hands.
“Are you ok? What happened? Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine. I’m fine, I just caught the corner of the sink.” Scott says face flushed, “I’m ok—Derek, I’m ok.”
Scott’s face is only inches away from his. Even with the little stubble on his chin, his skin is soft and warm nestled in his hands. His mouth is red and wet from where it was caught in his mouth. His brown eyes have gotten a little darker, his heart is beating faster.
It’s instinct—an impossible need to close the gap between them and Derek succumbs so readily. He leans forward and down and captures Scott’s lips in his. The kiss is soft and hesitant for only a second before it deepens. Scott buries his hands in Derek’s hair while the older man pulls Scott in by the waist. The gasp Scott lets out allows Derek to open him up with his tongue and Scott lets him in easily with a moan.
Scott hisses in pain again and Derek has to pull back and that’s when reality comes crashing down. This is a mistake. He can’t do this. His life—his world is too dangerous for this. He’d managed to resist the last time this had happened: disappeared into the morning before kissing Scott like he wanted to. He’d made a promise to stay away.
He’d keep it this time.
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“It’s ok.”
“It’s not.” Derek says and starts to back up and away from Scott.
“Derek wait.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Derek don’t leave, please.” Scott pleads and Derek has to go; he has to get out of there.
“I’m sorry.” He repeats and the last thing he sees is the devastation on Scott’s face and the way he keeps calling for him to stay.
--
“Mom, I’m fine I promise.” Scott says.
“Are you sure? I can come over if you need me.” Melissa McCall says on the other line.
“I’m ok. He was just a guy.”
“Really? Because ‘just a guy’ has gotten you as sad as when you and Kira broke up.” She reminds him.
“I’ll be ok. Don’t worry.” Scott reassures for the last time before he says his goodbyes and cuts the conversation short.
If they had kept talking, Melissa would have somehow convinced him that she needed to come over and Scott just…he just wanted to wallow in peace with some ice cream and a good movie to take his mind off of Derek.
Derek who he hasn’t seen for two months even though Scott knows he’s been active. Scott has seen the evidence firsthand from the abundance of criminals that have come through Beacon Hills Memorial. They seem to be worse off than usual. But since their kiss—there’s been nothing. Scott had thought about using the phone Derek had given him, the one for emergencies. But he stopped himself every time (although barely this time. The phone is still clutched in his hand…number dialed and waiting to be put through).
Scott’s not exactly sure where things went wrong. He has an idea. He knows Derek wanted the kiss as bad he did (as he still does), but he thinks that Derek is scared. After the death of his family: first his parents and uncle and then his older sister and then to spend a whole year alone trying to avenge her. Scott isn’t stupid. He put two and two together almost immediately and was able to find Derek Hale and what happened to him.
But he kept it to himself in the hopes that maybe Derek would tell him on his own, if he ever did. Scott hadn’t expected to fall for him, but he did. Although the other man hardly ever talked, especially not about himself. But there was something there.
He’s ripped out of his musings when his front door is kicked in and a familiar face is in his doorway.
“Helloooo, Nurse.” It sounds more menacing this time.
Scott has barely enough time to jump off the couch and try to scramble to somewhere safe. He heads towards his window where he can climb down the fire escape but the other one is there already blocking his exit. Scott makes a last second decision and runs to his bedroom. It’s a leap of faith. He shoves his desk in front of the door to give himself some time; it’s not much but it’ll do. He still has the phone clutched in his hand. He dials. There’s no answer and Scott wants to scream.
“Help me please! Come quick. It’s the guys from the other night—they’re at my hou--”
“There’s nowhere to run Nurse!” he hears from the other side and it’s followed by a loud banging. He grabs the first weapon he can, a box cutter, before the bedroom door is knocked down.
Scott tries. He tries as hard as he can. When the man lunges at him Scott swipes with the box cutter and manages a cut in the man’s arm. It only makes him angrier. Scott feels his breath leave his body when he’s punched in the stomach. He doubles over and sees the man’s ugly smirk before the boot to the face knocks him out.
--
Derek almost crushes the phone in anger when he hears Scott’s message. He lets out a roar louder than he ever has before.
He didn’t want this. This is why he stayed away. This is why he’s been patching himself up every night after doling out his own justice instead of running to Scott.
Derek’s heart is beating practically out of his chest. He feels his lungs start to close up and sweat gather on his brow. He’s having a panic attack—
No. He can’t panic. He can’t break down because Scott needs his help. Scott needs his help because this life put Scott in danger. He forces himself to breathe deeply and evenly in order to calm everything down.
Derek sits down in the middle of his floor and concentrates. He blocks out everything around him: the refrigerator’s light buzzing, the couple in the next building over arguing about Dominoe’s vs. Papa John’s, the cars whizzing by on the streets, the cats meowling in hunger. He reaches out further and further until he catches it—
Scott.
--
“Well, aren’t you a pretty thing?”
Scott comes to handcuffed to a chair and Theo Raeken inches from his face.
Theo Raeken is a name not many people in Beacon City want to invoke. A small time thug who took advantage of the power vacuum left behind when the Lycan took out the Alphas. He’d managed to make a name for himself in that short time: racketeering, extortion, intimidation, prostitution, murder…and that was the short list. Scott never thought he’d come face to face with him.
“So according to my boys here,” he gestures to the two men behind him, “you’ve become quite acquainted with a little thorn in my side.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, come now…let’s not lie to each other. It’s in both of our interest if you just tell me who the Lycan is.”
“Because if I do, you’ll just let me stroll out of here?”
Raeken laughs. In any other situation it would be charming.
“And smart too. But Scotty…” he leans forward and there’s a glint in his eye, “I don’t want to have to make you talk.”
It would be so easy. So, so easy to just tell him the two words he wants to hear: Derek Hale, “Fuck. You.” He says before he spits in his face.
The air to Scott’s lungs is abruptly cut off when Raeken grabs him by the throat and squeezes, “You just made a mistake.”
Every blow to Scott’s face and body only works to strengthen his resolve. His mid-section is on fire. Raeken’s thugs have focused almost solely on his ribs. He can barely see out of his one eye. His lips are swollen and all he can taste is his own blood.
“Give me the name, Scotty.” Raeken yanks him by the hair.
There’s a definite possibility that he’s going to die here, he knows it. He’s already started praying. One of the ones he memorized as a kid: though I walk through the valley of the shadow—
And then the lights go out and Scott starts laughing. Even though it makes it hurt worse. He can’t help it.
“You want a name? Ask him yourself.” He says one last time before he passes out, the last thing he sees is a black shadow looming forward.
--
There’s no one standing by the time Derek is done with them. Not the two guards he took out when he got to the abandoned warehouse or the three guarding the room Scott was in. The two hurting Scott got their arms re-broken for their trouble.
Raeken is lucky that Scott’s calling his name stopped Derek from ripping his throat out. He tosses the man against a wall and knocks him unconscious instead.
He approaches Scott as gingerly as he can. He touches his cheek and drains the pain.
“You came. You came.”
“Of course I came. I’ll always come for you.” Derek whispers before he brings Scott to his chest. He strokes his hair and doesn’t try to quiet his sobbing.
He doesn’t care that this is the end of the Lycan. That this means he’ll be arrested.
Scott is important. He’s too important. He means too much to him.
Derek walks through the doors of Beacon Hills Memorial with a barely breathing Scott in his arms, “Help me. Help him. Save him.”
--
Scott comes to with a bit of a start. The first thing he notices is that he’s in a bed and not handcuffed to a chair.
The beeping of the monitors come next and then the fluorescent lights alert him that he’s in the hospital.
“You’re alright. You’re safe.” Derek’s voice is a welcome sound. He’s in a chair just to Scott’s left.
It takes him too long to realize what’s wrong with this scenario: Derek is in his room. At the hospital. Dressed like a normal person. This is a problem.
“You can’t be here.” Scott almost shoots out of bed but the wires he’s hooked up to stop him.
“Scott.”
“No you have to leave Derek.” Scott tells him urgently. He doesn’t understand why he’s the only one panicking. The heart monitor is beeping more rapidly now, “You’re going to get arrested!”
“No. He won’t.” The new voice makes them both look.
Stiles Stilinski. Scott’s best friend and a deputy stands in the doorway. He looks pale (paler than usual). There are bags under his eyes and his mouth is set in a hard line. But then he smiles.
“He won’t?”
“Why would he? He was just the innocent bystander who found you and brought you in. Everyone here will attest to that.” Stiles says, “and besides if he were the vigilante, I’d owe him a handshake for bringing down Theo Raeken and a whole lot more for saving my best friend’s life.”
“Thank you.” Scott whispers.
Stiles walks up to his bed, leans down and drops a kiss to his temple, “Don’t ever do that to me again, you got it?” He clears his throat once he’s up and no one mentions the wobble in his voice or the wetness in his eyes, “Don’t keep him up too late. Your mom’s on her way.”
“You risked everything for me.” Scott says after Stiles leaves.
“I’d do it again. Every time.” Derek say with resolve.
“What happens after? After I get better…after I get out here. Are you going to disappear again?”
“Scott--”
“I know you’re scared, Derek. Because you lost so many people before. But—”
Scott’s ramble is cut off by a gentle press of Derek’s lips to his.
“Was that a goodbye?” Scott whispers.
“Not this time.”