Perfectly imperfect

Sudden Realizations

Hi so this is a special Scisaac chapter! Hope you enjoy it cause they're adorable 🥰

* Scott

I suck in breathe before harshly blowing it out, making my cheeks puff dramatically.

But I'm not being dramatic... I did something bad. Well it wasn't bad but I'm scared.

What the hell am I going to do!?

I pace around my room before I get the perfect idea, the yin to my yang, my problem solver.

I'm going to talk to Stiles, Duh. I should have thought of this sooner he ALWAYS has a plan... not that they are always trustable but hey points for creativity.

Text message: To Stiles

Hey, I'm freaking out and need your help badly so can I come over?

Pretty please?

From Stiles

Where would you be without my amazing brain.

To Stiles

Not having an arrest record.

From Stiles

Shut up and get your ass over here... and I told you to run hehe.

-end of text message

I laugh lightly, putting my phone in my puffy winter coat and running down the steps.

"Woah, woah, woah, where are yo going in such a hurry? No 'buy mom' or 'love you mom'," my mom imitated my voice awfully but was smiling at me playfully.

I always loved that about my mom, she was the absolute best and could make any situation better. I wish she wouldn't stress so much about money because I hardly get to see her and I hate it.

I turn back around and give her a big unexpected hug.

"What was that for? Did you and Stiles get in trouble again."

"No, momma. Bye, love you, thank you for birthing me," I say wittily.

"Yeah, yeah just hours of excruciating pain... completely worth every second though," she said poking my stomach playfully.

I giggle and reach the door, "tell stiles that momma McCall loves, and misses him and I expect to see him in this house on Christmas."

"Will do."

One I make it to Stiles apartment I knock rapidly, the twenty minutes alone in my head really didn't help me stop stressing.

Derek opened smiling.

I rush in and pull Stiles to his room, "sorry Derek its personal," I yell before shutting the door.

Stile plopped on his bed staring at me as I say nothing.

"Go on Scotty boy, spill your guts. Tell me you all about your problems, how do they make you feel," Stiles says sarcastically mimicking a therapist.