Archive of Our Own

And precisely Scott was the one who asked him to go back.

Although it had been a while since he’d seen the house, it hadn’t even been a month since he’d last seen Scott: there was only half an hour of distance between each of their grade schools, and they had both agreed to live together in a lame apartment half way their schools. Now that they had both just graduated, Scott had decided to return to his childhood home to take care of his now retired mom and work as a veterinarian, while Stiles prepared to receive the notification of the place where he would have to do a minimum of three years of practices to fully become a doctor. He had used all of his influences and contacts to make it be Beacon Hills, where they had coincidentally just lost a doctor and suffered Melissa McCall’s retirement, but the final decision was uncertain.

Scott had said it would be unfair to deny his request: Stiles was the third best qualificated student of his whole generation, and the only reason why he hadn’t gotten higher was partly because of his tendency to get really involved in stuff that had nothing to do with what he was studying and didn't concern him, and partly because of his dedication to the secret 'school' that Scott, Malia, Isaac and him had funded (Malia was a former classmate in Stiles’ college -and ex-, and Isaac a former classmate in Scott’s college) to study werewolves. Scott brought his animal physiology and anatomy knowledge, and Stiles, human biology knowledge. They had achieved such a complete education (in their opinion) that they liked to consider themselves specialists in the subject of shapeshifters. At least the ones that adopted an animal form.

To be honest, Stiles’ original plan had been studying forensic pathology, and it was still a dream of his, but the pathology school where he would finish his last four or five years of studies, plus one of practices, was on the other side of the country. So, he had been happy to just be a generic doctor with this secret specialization of four years on supernatural beings. After all, his father’s health wasn’t one to encourage him to go that far for that long.

Anyway, it was regarding this secret specialization why Scott was now calling him, impotent before a case that he couldn’t diagnose. While waiting for the notification of the place where he would do his practice, wait that could last months, Stiles saw in this request a very needed relief and did not hesitate on leaving his spot, asking Isaac to take his place for the time being. The young twenty-six-year-old man had never been the type to sit down and wait, and that last month had driven him nuts. He had almost gotten himself arrested for trying to get involved in police cases (through hacking their radio), and at that point he was even exercising in the morning out of boredom, so as soon as Scott called him he jumped into his old car.

And now he could see it, at last and after all that time, the house he had grown up in as much as in his own. Scott was waiting for him in the porch, without being able to hide his smile despite the serious situation that had brought Stiles. The young doctor returned him a wider one and honked loudly before pulling up.

 - Come here, you idiot - Scott laughed - There’s a dying patient inside.

But they still hugged before going in.

Melissa was sitting to the kitchen table, surrounded by two wolves Stiles had never seen before. When she saw Stiles, her face lit up and she got up to hug him, her face emaciated and visible bags below her bright eyes.

 - Ms McCall, I’m pretty sure that being retired means that you get to rest more, not to look even more tired. Is Scott giving you a hard time? Listen, if you want to sell him...

She laughed and scanned him consciously, looking admired.

 - Well, you’ve obviously had a better time in college than I ever did. You’re looking great, Stiles.

 - I like to think I always do, Ms McCall. Genetics, as you might have noticed by looking at my dad…

 - Stiles…

 - Although we’re both men of the field, men of action. If you know what I…

 - Stiles! - This time Scott joined her mother, shaking his head - Stop talking and follow me.

Stiles did as he said, stopping at his friend’s room’s door.

 - He’s inside - Scott clarified.

 - Well, thank God. I almost thought you were leading me to the laundry room. I don't have any coins with me.

Scott bit his smile, trying to be serious.

 - I’m serious, Stiles - He made it clear - I really don’t know what’s wrong with him. I have seen nothing like it before.

He knocked in the door before Stiles could respond, with a: ‘I brought the doctor’. A hoarse grunt was all the response they got, but it was enough for Scott to open the door and let Stiles slide in.

The room was exactly the same it had been when Scott left it to go to college, and Stiles could not help but let his eyes wonder around, his mind filled with memories. There was even a lacrosse stick next to the…

A cough brought his attention back to the bed on the corner, where a man on his thirties was laying down. He was big and muscly, with angry blue eyes and messy black stubble, and seemed completely out of place in that teenager's room. Stiles was certain he must be a terribly handsome Don Juan whenever he wasn’t looking dead.

The man stared at him, mistrustful.

 - Human - he snarled.

 - Yes - Scott intervened - I told you. He’s a human doctor who’s been my best friend my whole life and I trust him. He studied werewolf anatomy with me and knows a lot.

 - Sure as hell I know a lot, dude - Stiles approached the chair next to the desk, rapidly opening his case on it and looking for his stethoscope - I’m an erudite on the subject. Consider your ass saved.

Scott cleared his throat.

 - He’s a bit of a jokey.

Stiles brought the chair with him to sit next to the bed and smiled widely to his grumpy patient.

 - Can I? - he extended his hand. 

The guy, still frowning, took a deep breath, scenting him. Stiles hoped he still smelled like ‘A Sunny Day of Spring’ instead of intense excitement and anxiety, because that shampoo had sure as hell been expensive. He figured he did, because the guy looked briefly at Scott (as if asking for his approbation) and then looked away, offering him his hand.

Stiles happily took his pulse, first on his wrist and then on his chest, and while he stuck a thermometer in the guy’s mouth he listened to his breath over his back. 

When it started beeping, he retrieved the instrument and proved his suspicions right: the wolf had a fever. Other than that, his breathing was a little sped up, his pupils dilated, and his heartbeat faster than usual. Therefore, just a fever.

 - What do you feel like? Does anything hurt? Your head, stomach…?

The sick man didn’t look at him when he grunted:

 - No - a pause - Heavy. Chest.

 - An oppression on your chest? Does it make it hard to breathe?

Another pause and then he nodded.

 - Okay, I see. Anything else? Dizziness? Vomits?

The man blushed and avoided his gaze, and Stiles didn’t know if he was more exasperated because of how slow and complicated communication with him was or more warmed up because of how cute he was.

He didn’t respond, and Stiles decided he was more exasperated.

 - Have you vomited? 

The guy quickly shook his head, and then winced and blinked rapidly.

 - So, dizziness, got it. Anything else? Regarding your wolf form?

To this the blush intensified and the guy crossed his arms, looking away. Scott cleared his throat.

 - He, hum, can’t turn.

Stiles turned to look at him, shocked.

 - What?

His friend looked uncomfortable.

 - Every time he tries to turn, he, hum, blacks out, gets super cold and sweaty and his heart rate drops so low it’s hard to even notice.

Silence. Scott shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

 - I think it’s… The big problem, you know? That this, now-

 - That the fever is a defense mechanism against the shock of not being able to turn - Stiles nodded - Yes, that makes sense.

Another silence, and this time it was Stiles the one who moved in his place, unpleased.

 - Do you think…? I mean, is he…? He still has…? Lycanthropy?

The man full on growled, offended.

 - Yes, of course I ‘still have lycanthropy’. I’m still a werewolf.

That being the largest and clearest sentence the guy had ever said, Stiles was womewhat surprised that his voice wasn’t deeper.

 - Ok, ok, big guy. Don’t get all hulk on me; it was just a theory.

 - A valid one - Scott nodded - But I can still smell him. He’s a wolf.

 - All right then - Stiles got up, curiosity taking over him, and put his stuff back on his case before closing it - This is a very curious case indeed. Are you sure this isn’t the effect of a drug?

Scott shook his head.

 - It has been going on for a week. Besides, I don’t know of any drug capable of doing this.

 - A witch?

Scott shrugged.

 - Do you think it’s a curse of some kind? Witchcraft?

Stiles laughed and took the freedom to pat his patient’s hair.

 - Either that or his wolf is hibernating.

Scott’s laugh was worth almost losing an arm.