Chapter Text
Chapter 1
Scott smiled fondly as he drove through town to the sheriff’s station, memory after memory trickling up from the recesses of his mind, both good and terrifying. He’d witnessed horrors no sixteen year old should ever have the misfortune of seeing. Seven years ago, nearly to the day, his eyes had been opened to the supernatural world that coexisted and sometimes clashed with the human one. God, seven years. Had it truly been that long? He shook his head and grinned as he pulled into the parking lot and found a space. Time flew, but then, it usually did when you were bogged down with veterinarian classes and a job to pay for those classes. It took him five years, but he’d finally graduated and had returned to Beacon Hills to assist Deaton…and learn as much about healing the supernatural as he could. There was still so much he didn’t know.
Stepping through the door, a wave of nostalgia hit him hard. He’d missed this place. He and Stiles had spent as much time here as they did their own houses or school. When Stiles had told him he’d been hired as a supernatural consultant, it really hadn’t surprised Scott. Stiles was forever researching one topic or another and had saved Scott’s ass on more than one occasion. For a few seconds, he stood still and reveled in the hustle and bustle before him. Several of the deputies he didn’t recognize, but one he’d know anywhere. The dark-haired man glanced up and did a double take.
“Scott!” He rushed over and gave Scott a quick hug. “I didn’t know you would be here today. How have you been?”
“Hey, Parrish,” Scott greeted with a laugh. “I’ve been okay. No one knew so don’t feel left out.” In a lower voice, he asked, “How’s my favorite Hellhound? Anything happen while I’ve been gone?”
Parrish shrugged and murmured, “We may have had to encourage a werewolf or two to move along to the next town, but nothing major.”
Sure, a lot of people now knew about the supernatural world and some of those who belonged to it, but some of the town’s citizens were obviously new and did not, so Scott and Parrish spoke softly to avoid causing any alarm. Scott sighed in relief and sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.
“It’s the least the town deserved after those hellish couple of years.”
Parrish elbowed him and joked, “Yeah you were here for those, then you left and things settled quite peacefully. Now, you’re back.”
Scott winced and ran a hand over his face. “Oh, damn, did I just jinx us by coming back?”
“Even if you did, it’s good to have you back.” Parrish’s desk phone began to ring rather insistently. “I better go. We’ll have to catch up soon.”
“Yeah, of course. Looking forward to it.”
Parrish rushed back to his desk, answered his phone, and almost instantly began scribbling notes. Glancing around the crowded room, Scott caught more than one person watching him, some with curiosity, and others with expressions bordering on malevolent. He made a note of those he should steer clear of until he had more information on them. Wandering through the halls, he finally found Stiles’ office. It was small but had all the necessities. Plus, it was a fair distance from the noise. His best friend appeared to be so engrossed in what he was reading on his computer screen that Scott almost felt bad for interrupting him. Almost.
Crossing his arms and leaning a shoulder against the door jamb, Scott asked, “What are you reading about?”
As expected, Stiles startled so badly, he knocked his knee on the underside of his desk, let out a very unmanly shriek, and promptly sent his mouse, keyboard, some papers, and a book tumbling to the floor. Needless to say, Scott found it highly amusing and snickered.
“Scott, for the love of all things good in your world and mine, stop sneaking up on me or I swear I will put a damn bell around your neck! Remember how it felt when Derek constantly did it to us that first year? Are you becoming him now?”
Scott merely lifted his eyebrows, knowing any second now the realization that he was actually there would hit Stiles like a blow to the head from his own bat.
Stiles’ eyes widened, his annoyance instantly replaced with excitement. “Scott! You’re home!” Leaping to his feet, he rushed over and pulled Scott into a bear hug, releasing him almost immediately, and smacking his arm. “Why the hell didn’t you tell me you would be back today?”
Scott gestured to the mess of a desk, chuckling. “And miss that little display? Not a chance.”
“I hate you.”
“No you don’t. Not really. We’re practically brothers. Isn’t that what you told me several years ago? At that damn motel?”
Turning suddenly solemn, Stiles squeezed Scott’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. I don’t care if it wasn’t your doing. Just don’t do it.”
Stiles was extremely skilled at hiding his true emotions when he thought it necessary, but Scott felt the tremble in the hand that held him, heard the slight emotional rasp in his best friend’s voice. Leaning in, Scott gave him a tight hug, giving his friend time to compose himself.
A few seconds passed before he stepped back. “I can’t make any real promises. You know what my world is like. All I can promise is that it won’t be a voluntary act.”
Stiles shook his head, sniffled, and then laughed. “Unless you thought it would save someone. Hey, have you seen Dad yet?”
In other words, enough had been said about the previous subject. Time to move on. “Uh, no, not yet. I didn’t want to disturb him in case he was busy with something.”
“Are you kidding? He’d be glad to be interrupted if you’re the reason for it. Come on.” He grabbed Scott’s arm and hauled him down to his dad’s office, knocked on the closed door, and opened it without waiting for a response. “Hey, look who’s back!”
Two faces turned in their direction, one Scott had been expecting, the other not so much. The few times he’d had enough time off from work and school, he’d driven the two and a half hours north to visit. Derek had been gone each and every time, supposedly doing something in South America or Europe. Whatever he’d been doing had kept him physically fit and, if Scott were being honest, looking even better than he remembered. Maybe it was just that he hadn’t noticed before because that part of himself hadn’t awakened yet. Well, it was awake now and…damn. He pushed those thoughts out of his mind, fearing a spike in his heart rate, something Derek would definitely notice.
“Well, hey, Scott! It’s good to see you again! Stiles, why didn’t you tell me he’d be here today?” Sheriff Stilinski rounded his desk to give Scott a one-armed hug.
Stiles threw out his arms dramatically. “I didn’t know! He just pulled a Derek and suddenly was standing outside my office and scaring the bejesus out of me.”
From his spot in front of the sheriff’s desk, hands in his pockets, Derek smirked. “Ah. Is that what that was? I thought for sure someone had stepped on a mouse’s tail.”
Stiles sputtered indignantly for a full thirty seconds before getting out something actually coherent. “Don’t make me sic a Hellhound on you.”
Derek didn’t appear the least bit concerned. His smile widened and his brows rose in challenge. “Good luck with that.”
Covering a laugh with a cough, Scott tore his gaze from his… former friend? Mentor? He’d never thought of Derek as a brother back then despite what had been said the night Chris had shot him in the arm with that arrow. If his previous thoughts were any indication, that hadn’t changed. Scott smiled up at Stiles’ father, a man who had been more of a dad to him than his own had been.
“It’s good to see you again, too, Mr. Stilinski.”
The man sighed. “It’s Noah. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
Scott tossed the name around in his head, scrunched his nose, and shook his head, laughing. “Nope. Sorry. Can’t do it. The ‘Mr’ is too ingrained. I could try Sheriff instead.”
“You always were a polite kid. Even when you were lying to my face.” He turned and motioned toward Derek, who hadn’t moved from his spot. “Derek’s been filling me in on the things he’d handled and encountered the last few years. Terrifying stuff.”
“Oh?”
Scott turned to face Derek and found the man watching him intently, much like he’d done right after that fateful night. It made him shiver with unease then, but now he shivered due to something else entirely. A sensation he wasn’t all that certain was welcome. Joining Derek in front of the desk, he greeted the other man the same as he’d greeted everyone else. To do otherwise would have prompted questions, not to mention be awkward as hell. Regardless of the new things he felt about him, it truly was good to see Derek again. The hug was nice…until he’d gotten a healthy whiff of Derek’s scent. Heat like he’d never experienced before flooded his system, making him feel a bit lightheaded. The whimper he had to bite back surprised him, but it was the urge to bury his nose in that wonderful spot where Derek’s neck and shoulder met that had him jumping back, putting a few feet between them.
Cramming his sweaty hands into his pockets, his gaze darted around the office, not daring to look at the one who’d caused such a strong, troubling reaction. Noticing the odd looks Stiles and his father were giving him, he rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, though it sounded not at all natural.
“I just remembered I was supposed to meet with Deaton. We’ll have to catch up later.”
Scott all but bolted through the door, down the hall, and had just stepped outside when a hand gripping his arm spun him around. Stiles. Staring at him in confusion and more than a little distress.
“Scott? What was that? You ran out of there so fast I almost didn’t catch up to you. What’s going on? Did you sense something? Hear something?”
Scott’s shoulders hunched, his eyes glued to the ground as prickling heat bloomed in his cheeks. Damn, he hadn’t felt this awkward since his bi-awakening two years ago.
“Nothing like that, I promise. It’s just that I don’t want to be late meeting Deaton. Wouldn’t look that good, you know?”
Stiles stared at him as if he’d said the stupidest thing ever. Scott could admit it probably was and he’d said some really stupid things when he was younger.
“Scott, you worked for the guy for two years. I think he’d know by now that you don’t make a habit of being late. What’s going on? Talk to me.”
Blowing out a breath that puffed out his cheeks, Scott ran both hands through his hair, almost wishing it was as long as it had been his high school sophomore year rather than the shorter cut he’d switched to. At least then he could pull on it to distract himself from what he was about to admit. He didn’t think that Stiles would really care, but he’d heard enough horror stories of best friends turning their backs on someone that there was a tiny kernel of doubt he couldn’t exorcise.
“Two years ago, I discovered something about myself, something I never thought would ever apply to me.”
“Like wolf powers or something?”
“No. About me.” Scott groaned, paced a short distance away, then closed the distance again. “About who I like, what type I like. You know, to date. God, why is this so difficult to say? Okay, I’m just going to say it. Turns out, I like guys, too.”
Stiles blinked but otherwise looked unconcerned. “Oh. Okay. That was not where I thought this conversation was heading. I thought we were going to be talking about some huge deal. Not that you coming out to me isn’t a big deal or anything. Thanks for telling me and all that.”
Most of that had come out in a typical Stiles rush and he took a moment to catch his breath. Then Scott’s timeline dawned on him and his nonchalant expression morphed to mild indignation.
“Two years ago?! And you’re just now telling me? What, did you think I wouldn’t be okay with it?”
“No, it wasn’t that. I just wanted to be sure I was actually bisexual before saying anything. I took a year, did some experimenting. By the end of that first year, I knew. This last year, I thought about how I could bring the topic up during one of our phone calls, but it never seemed like the right time. I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything sooner.”
“Hey, you know what? I get it. I’ve heard a few of the guys on the team talk, too. Just know that, short of you going on a murdering rampage, there’s nothing you could do to make me turn away from you. Brothers to the end.”
Scott slowly let out a relieved breath, feeling that weight, at least, fall from his shoulders. “Brothers to the end. Come on. We should head over to the clinic.”
As they crossed the parking lot, Stiles surprised Scott by actually asking more questions. “So, uh, this guy you experimented with. What did he look like?”
Scott tossed him an incredulous look. “You actually want to talk about this?”
Stiles pulled him to a stop in the middle of the lot. “Why wouldn’t I? If it had been a woman, we’d be talking about it. It doesn’t weird me out that it was a guy. I want you to know we can still have these discussions.”
“That means a lot, Stiles. Thanks.” As they continued on to Scott’s car, he pondered exactly how much detail to give. Nothing explicit, of course, but what exactly did his best friend want to know? “Well, Logan had dark hair, blue eyes, and a build somewhere between me and Derek.”
When Stiles’ expression lit up, Scott knew he should have kept his mouth shut. It had been difficult enough to come out. How in the hell was he supposed to have this conversation? By that time, they’d reached his car. Scott leaned back against the driver’s side door, knowing full well he wasn’t getting out of answering a few questions.
“So, you going to explain what that little moment was in Dad’s office? You looked kind of spooked.”
“I was.” Scott crossed his arms over his chest, then his ankles. In little more than a whisper, he added, “I caught Derek’s scent.”
A furrow appeared in Stiles’ brow, obviously not comprehending what Scott meant. “And? Scott, you’ve caught his scent numerous times. You’ve tracked him.”
“I know.”
“So, what happened this time? What made this time different?”
Stiles was super smart. Scott knew his friend would get there in the end if given enough time, so he simply remained where he was, not saying a word, waiting for the light bulb moment. The wheels in Stiles’ mind were spinning so fast, it wouldn’t be a long wait. Stiles paced back and forth in front of Scott for a good minute or two before coming to an abrupt halt, his head whipping around to stare wide-eyed at Scott.
“Oh. My. God. Derek?! Seriously? The one we just left with my dad? That Derek? The Derek that embodied the standing emoji for the first little while we’d known him? The one Patrick was describing in that one episode of SpongeBob where he said ‘He’s just standing there. Menacingly.’? You actually felt something for that Derek?”
“Trust me, you’re not nearly as shocked as I am. But, now I can be better prepared for the next time I see him and there will be a next time. You and I both know that.”
“Yeah, probably.” A heavy silence fell between them for several moments. Stiles broke it with his typical humor. “Well, we’re not solving the world’s mysteries today so let’s go. I’ll follow you to your place and then drive you out to the clinic.”
“Wait. Shouldn’t you stay? I mean, you’re working, right? You can’t just leave, can you?”
“Are you kidding? Dad’s been trying to get me to go home for the last two hours. I’m not officially on duty today. Nothing to really research yet.”
“Oh. Well, okay, then. To my house.”
—-
I like guys, too. Those four words haunted Derek the entire drive home. Noah had taken an important phone call, so Derek had stepped out of the office. He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, but the moment he’d heard Scott’s voice, he’d tuned in, unable to help himself. He’d hoped to get some kind of explanation as to what had happened to make Scott so skittish with him so suddenly. He certainly hadn’t intended to intrude on something so personal as a coming out, but he supposed that was the price to be paid for listening in. Sometimes, you heard something you shouldn’t. How was he supposed to pretend not to have heard that?
Derek drove on autopilot, surprising himself when he realized he’d arrived at his building, parked, gone inside, and now stood in the elevator, riding up to his loft apartment. Sometimes, it was nice to have enough money he didn’t have to worry about working. Other times, he felt his mind was too free to wander into territory it shouldn’t. Like how nice it had been to see Scott again after so long. And how confusingly good he’d smelled. What the hell did that even mean? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t scented Scott before. He’d helped him out of numerous dangerous situations and he’d had to scent him in order to find him. He just had never smelled so appealing before.
Not to mention how he’d filled out. Five years had broadened Scott’s shoulders tremendously, while still keeping that lean, strong build. The way he moved, as if he was finally confident or comfortable in his own skin, also was new but looked good on him.
In his apartment, Derek strolled over to the bank of windows that covered a large section of one wall and stared out at the view. Standing above the city like this felt like both a comfort and an isolation. The latter even more so with both Peter and Malia currently gone. He had to give credit where it was due. His uncle was actually trying to be a father to Malia, something Derek doubted would ever have happened prior to that final showdown Scott’s senior year. His uncle had changed after that, became more compassionate towards others. Not a full personality overhaul, but enough to be noticeable. Hell, that battle had changed them all in some way.
Derek ran a hand over his face and sighed at where his thoughts had circled back around to. Scott. In five years, he hadn’t given Scott much thought but now…now he couldn’t go longer than a minute or two without his name, his face, and yes, his scent invading his mind. What the hell was wrong with him? Wait. Maybe that was just it. He’d pushed Scott and their friendship from his mind. Maybe he’d just missed him, missed their camaraderie and that was why he couldn’t stop thinking about him. It made sense. All the battles they’d gone through together had, no doubt, forged a bond between them. He’d even told Scott they were brothers. Yes, it made much more sense.
Satisfied he’d solved that mystery, he turned away from the city view just as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Groaning at the caller ID, he answered, knowing his uncle wouldn’t leave him alone until they talked.
“Peter,” he said in greeting. His relationship with his uncle wasn’t the greatest still but it was improving.
“Derek. How does it feel to be back in Beacon Hills? You planning on staying?”
Leaning against a windowpane, Derek glanced over his shoulder at the city, realized he was staring in the general direction of the animal clinic, and turned around with a little huff of breath.
“It’s certainly different being back. A nice kind of different, I suppose. Scott’s back.” Derek winced and mouthed a curse for even mentioning him.
“Oh?” Peter drew out the word, sounding more than a little delighted at the news.
Irritated, Derek marched into his kitchen area to grab a glass of water. “What do you mean ‘oh’? And why did you say it like that?”
Peter, ever the annoying person he was, ignored Derek’s questions and asked more of his own. “Did you see him? Talk to him? How did he look?”
Putting the call on speaker, Derek set his phone on the counter and poured some water, which he downed about half in two gulps. The task gave him time to collect his thoughts and his wits.
“He looked like Scott, sounded like Scott, smelled like Scott.” Derek shrugged even though Peter couldn’t see him. “What more is there to say?”
Peter made a sound that plainly said there was a lot more that could be mentioned and that he would absolutely be doing so. “It’s just that you were always so protective of him, jumping in to help him every time he got himself into something he couldn’t get out of.”
“It’s called compassion. You should try it sometime. It was easy for us. We were born werewolves. We had a pack to guide us. Scott had no one.”
A smug laugh sounded over the line, “Do I detect a bit of a defensive tone in your voice? Every time I brought him up back then, you’d get that same tone in your voice. Why is that, do you think?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Derek replied with heavy sarcasm, “maybe I don’t like being judged. Did you have an actual reason for calling?”
“Ohhh, deflection. I must have hit a nerve. Might want to examine that a little more closely because I think there’s more to it than just me finding and stomping on that nerve just to watch you squirm. “
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Just get on with the reason you called, will you?”
“Hm. I’m sure you don’t. What a pity. Anyway, I wanted to let you know we’ll be back in a couple of days.”
Derek took his phone and glass to his sofa, needing to be comfortable for what could be a lengthy discussion. “Did you have any luck?”
His question was met with a sarcastic response. “No, we gave up. Of course we found it! We also discovered a way to grow it ourselves so we can have it on hand at all times. Hydroponics. As in, no need for soil. I’ll tell you more about it when we get back. There are several system types and I’m thinking aeroponics would work well. The roots are exposed and periodically misted with a nutrient solution. Look into it and tell me what you think.”
“I will. As much as it pains me to say it, good work. We could keep Deaton stocked up. Never know when we might need it.”
“It always comes back to Scott, doesn’t it?”
For a split second, Derek panicked that he might have actually brought Scott up yet again. “I said Deaton.”
“True, but Scott is working with the man, right?” A heavy sigh sounded through the phone’s speaker. “I can’t wait to see your face when the truth finally hits you. Hopefully, it’ll be before Scott finds someone who interests him enough to date. Maybe fall in love with.”
Two things occurred at once and both shocked Derek speechless. A very menacing, very wolf-like growl rumbled deep in his chest at the picture Peter painted. He sat staring at the broken remains of his water glass, his claws clinking against what was left in his miraculously uninjured hand. His tongue easily found his fangs. What the hell had that been about?
From the other end of the line, laughter rang out. “Exactly what I thought. See you in a couple of days, Derek.”
The line went dead, which was fine with Derek. He still was too shocked to get a word out anyway. Carefully setting the broken glass on his coffee table, he gingerly gathered the shards and dumped them in the trash. Grabbing a dish towel, he mopped up the spilled water, wrung it out, tossed it in the sink, and collapsed onto his bed, feeling about as wrung out as that towel. Holding his hands in front of his face, he noticed his claws had retracted. A quick search confirmed his fangs had followed suit. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d lost control like that, not when he wasn’t threatened, and even then, he usually stayed well in control.
Why did the thought of Scott dating someone bring about a reaction so primal that he felt like tearing something to shreds? Even now, despite the disappearance of claws and fangs, the urge to destroy something was so strong he all but shook with the need. Pressing the heels of his hands to his temples, he fought to center himself so he could think more clearly. He lay there, breathing deeply, exhaling slowly, until his pulse returned to normal.
Closing his eyes, he pictured Scott sitting in a low-lit restaurant, laughing and joking with a faceless someone, holding their hand. A wave of aggression and dislike so intense it stole his breath flooded through him. Another emotion, that of longing, mixed with the others, creating a perfect storm of epic proportions. With a growl, he leaped from his bed, stalked over to the punching bag hanging in a corner, and abused it with hands and feet, one word playing like a mantra in his head. Mine!
Some time later, feeling like he’d been the punching bag, sweat pouring from every inch of his body, Derek hugged the bag, dropping his forehead to rest there as his breathing evened out. To say the idea of Scott being with someone didn’t sit well with him was an understatement. No, he loathed it. And he figured out why. The last time he’d seen him, Scott had still been a kid, barely an adult. Five years had been extremely kind. Scott was definitely not a kid any longer. He looked incredible and smelled even better. With a moan, Derek leaned against the wall and slid to the floor.
“What do I do now? I’m in so much trouble.”
—-
Scott examined the pregnant daschund, checking for heart rates or any physical abnormalities with a gentle poke or prod. After measuring Momma’s belly vertically and horizontally, checking her teeth, eyes, and ears, he removed his gloves and gave his patient a small treat.
“She looks like she’s doing just fine.” He made a few notes on her chart. “Just keep doing what you’re doing. Shouldn’t be too much longer.”
Gently, he settled the dog back into her kennel and made certain she was comfortable before latching the door. He winked at the little girl, who had been watching his every move with wonder. He met her mother’s gaze and offered her a smile, hoping that might ease her fears about him. He’d seen it in the eyes of many of the clients who’d been in and it was disheartening. After everything happened his senior year, and with things being so peaceful the last few years, he’d thought people had realized that, like humans, supernaturals could be good and bad.
The woman left the exam room, carrying the kennel, but the little girl stayed behind. Scott knelt in front of her and asked, quietly, “Is something wrong?”
The girl couldn’t have been older than six. She bit her lip, twisted her shirt in her fingertips, and just as quietly asked questions of her own. “Is it true? Is it true that you’re not human? Are you really a…werewolf?”
Scott wasn’t sure he should be having this conversation, but he considered it a teaching moment and decided to answer honestly. “I’m human, but I’m also a werewolf. I’m able to control my transformations, even during a full moon. Not all werewolves are bad.”
She studied his face and hands as if trying to spot his werewolf features. “Can I see?”
Oh boy. Now what did he do? This was something Scott had not considered when he came back. He wasn’t a circus performer, there to amuse the audience, but would it really hurt to show this child and anyone else just a little fraction of his transformations? The more exposed to it they were, the less fear they’d have, which, admittedly, could backfire badly, but if they understood then it could help. Right?
Closing his eyes and concentrating a few seconds, he opened his eyes and showed off his fangs, half-afraid the girl would shriek and run off. She did the complete opposite. Stepping forward, she peered into his eyes with the focus of someone attempting to understand the universe’s mysteries. Her gaze dipped and Scott eased his lips away from each fang using his finger so she could study them further.
“Awesome,” she breathed. “Does it hurt?”
“Not anymore. The bite did, of course. When you have no control, the transformations hurt quite a bit.”
“Do you have to be bitten to be one?”
“Mostly. In some cases, they’re born when both parents are werewolves.”
The little girl looked into his eyes again, tilting her head inquisitively. “Why are they red? Momma said werewolves had yellow eyes.”
Where was this girl’s mother? And where did Deaton go? Scott knew he shouldn’t prolong the conversation but the need to educate won out once again. “Some are. Some are a bright blue. Mine are red because I’m an Alpha, the leader of my pack.”
The little girl’s eyes widened. “You have a pack?”
He smiled fondly as he thought of his friends. “Like regular wolves, we like to be in a group. We feel safer and stronger. My pack consists of my friends. Whenever I need their help, they have my back, supporting me and helping in whatever way they can.”
“Patricia Comstock, where are you? I swear, if you’re hiding again…!”
“In here, Momma, talking to Doctor Scott!”
Jumping to his feet, quickly changing back and stepping behind the exam counter, he picked up the dog’s chart and studied it like he was about to be tested on what was there. Angry stomps came down the hallway and little Patricia’s mother stuck her head in the room, eyeing him suspiciously.
“What could you have possibly been talking to Dr. McCall about?” She waved her hand and huffed. “Never mind. Let’s go.”
Their footsteps receded and Scott blew out a long breath. Turning to put the chart away, he startled at seeing Deaton leaning in the doorway, grinning rather fondly.
“You handled that well, Scott.”
“How much did you hear? Why didn’t you step in?”
Deaton simply shrugged. “I heard all of it. I didn’t see the need to intervene. You handled it all beautifully. There are always going to be people who look down on those who are different. How you treat them says a lot about you. Why do you think you earned the true alpha status? And the patience you showed that child? She’ll remember that.”
“I hope so.”
Deaton clasped Scott’s shoulder a moment. “Children are often more accepting of differences. We could learn a lot from them.” He handed Scott the chart for the next patient. “Two left. Oh, and if you see Derek, send him back. I’m hoping to get some positive information from him.”
Derek? Here? Leaving his scent all over the place to assault his nose and haunt him every day? Just wonderful. He took a steadying breath and…damn, Derek was already here. This would be simultaneously awkward and torturous. Scott turned toward the door and froze as Derek walked through it. Their gazes locked and Scott could have sworn he saw something like fear in those green depths, which was absolutely insane thinking. What did Derek have to fear? Scott was the one terrified of giving himself away.
Clearing his throat, he motioned in Derek’s direction and lamely joked, “Uh, Deaton, he’s here.”
“Yes, I see,” he said slowly, as if coming to an interesting realization.
Catching the vet’s gaze jumping between Derek, himself, and back again, Scott held up the chart. “Patients await.”
Literally holding his breath as he brushed by Derek, he hurried down the hall to bring the next animal back. The sight of Stiles sitting nervously in the waiting room gave him pause.
“Stiles? I thought I told you to go home two hours ago.”
Stiles joined him, looking serious. “You did but I’m your ride home so….” He nodded in the direction of the hallway Scott had just come from. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Two more to go, then we can get out of here.”
“Awesome. Hey, we’re all getting together in a few days. An official welcome home, if you will. Me, Lydia, Liam, Theo, Mason, Corey, Jackson, Ethan, Chris, Parrish, your mom, my dad. Malia will be back by then, too. We should probably invite Derek and Peter too. Might raise questions if we didn’t.”
“Yeah. Yeah, of course. Thanks, Stiles. I should, you know, get back to work.”
“Oh! Oh, right. Put that degree to use.”
“It’s what I’m here for.”
Scott called the next patient’s name and led them to a different exam room. He simply couldn’t handle being surrounded by Derek’s scent, knowing the man was just a few doors away. He’d never be able to focus and he couldn’t afford any mistakes. Forcing himself not to listen in on Derek and Deaton’s discussion, he turned his attention to the schnauzer and his owner.
“Okay, so his last visit was for dermatitis. How has he been on his medication?”