The Bite

One Shot

// Okay this is a little revisit with no real plot. It was written for my Scottuary bingo card which I'll be posting on ao3 under The_City_Rain :) //

Scott groaned as he dropped his school bag down by the back door and kicked off his shoes. A wince passed through his teeth when he rolled his shoulder, his back hurting from leaning over all day. He turned to lock the door behind himself before throwing the key down on the counter. It landed with a sad thud.

Scott shuffled around the kitchen tiredly, having just gotten back from work at the vet's which had been right after school. He grabbed himself a glass from the shelf before filling it with water and leaning back against the counter.

Going about his day as if everything was normal was one of the hardest things he had to do. He was surprised no one else had began to question anything. The school had been obliterated quite a few times, Kate Argent and Peter Hale had died, Allison had to move away, and Stiles was just acting plain weird.

Scott could understand people not noticing the last one, Stiles had always been a bit weird to everyone but him. But there was this aura to him now, a natural instinct that subconsciously told people to fear him. Scott had seen it in action, people ducking out of his way in the halls instead of ramming into him as normal. He supposed the fact that Stiles no longer had his classic 'skinny and defenceless' look to him helped also.

It briefly made Scott wonder just how much of the supernatural world was already sewn into regular life, how much had he overlooked.

Dating- being mated to- a werewolf had had its perks (see; Jackson being beaten up in his honour), but dating an alpha werewolf had Scott's head in a spin. It seemed that Stiles had physically attached himself to Scott's hip, rarely ever letting him out of his sight. It had been endearing at first, had made Scott's heart skip a beat which of course Stiles had noticed, which was still so odd. But lately it had grown to be a bit of a menace. Their parents had gone from giving them knowing looks to confused glances. Work was the only place Scott could have time to himself.

He wasn't sure why Stiles never came to visit him at the clinic. He had seen him and his boss, Deaton, share a weird look the first time he came but if Deaton had something to do with all the werewolf business Scott was really going to throw in the towel.

Stiles seemed to take on the role of Scott's Protector which was, quite frankly, the dumbest thing Scott had ever heard. The bad alpha, Peter, was gone so what was out there to try and kill him?

As though Scott's life was some comedic horror film, a sound came from upstairs just as the thought crossed his mind. Scott froze in fear, his eyes widening and focusing on the ceiling, waiting for another noise to confirm his suspicions.

The sound of the chair in his bedroom scratching against the floor echoed through the otherwise silent house. Scott frowned, wondering if it could be Stiles but Stiles would have smelled he was home and come down to meet him. Which, again, weird.

Scott moved towards the stairs as quietly as he could, picking up the baseball bat leaning against the wall by the front door. (His own personal defence against mythical beings security system.) He knew he probably should call his boyfriend but the idea of whatever was upstairs hearing him and attacking was too vibrant in his brain.  

He shook his inhaler as slowly as he could, trying not to let it make noise, before taking a puff. He wanted to be ready if he needed to fight for his life.

Taking one step at a time, Scott made his way up the stairs as stealthily as he could muster. His bedroom door was firmly shut but he could hear movement behind it. He inched closer and closer and tried to steady his breathing. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel his pulse in his stomach. He covered his mouth with one hand to muffle the sound of his breathing before leaning down to peek through the keyhole.