Chapter Text
Scott McCall loved his life and his family. A year ago today, Isaac officially became part of that family and Scott had no idea what to get him for an anniversary gift. He couldn’t get him another scarf, could he? It wasn’t a terribly creative present, but it was kind of personal. Everyone knew Isaac loved scarves though, Stiles had once joked that Isaac loved scarves more than he loved Scott. He laughed a little at the memory, gaining a weird look from the woman a few feet away from him in the store. He pulled out his phone to call Erica. “Hey,” chirped the blonde on the other end. “What’s up, Scott?”
“I don’t know what to get Isaac for our anniversary,” he blurted out, running a hand through his hair.
“You do know that it’s today, right?”
“Yes, I know it’s today,” he quipped. “First year is paper, right? What kind of gift idea is that? Like you’re the love of my life, here’s some loose leaf. I mean... That’s not exactly a proper expression of feelings, is it? Can I do that?” He asked hopefully.
“Scott McCall,” Erica said sternly. “There is no way I’m letting you get my best friend loose leaf for your anniversary. Take him out to a nice dinner. Eat that weird Thai meal he’s been trying to get you to try for ages. He’ll get a kick out of it and later, you’ll have the best sex ever and have me to thank for it,” she said smugly and Scott could practically hear her smirking.
The brunette was blushing beet red and he was sure Erica knew that. “Yeah, okay. Thanks, Erica. I’ll, um, think on that.”
Her laugh bubbled on the other end. “You do that. Talk to you later. I’m sure I’ll hear how it goes.”
“Bye,” he said with a laugh, ending the call.
Scott typed the name of the dish Erica mentioned into his phone and hoped that he spelled it right. He walked over to the grocery section of the store to pick up the ingredients to make it. Home-cooked meals were never really Scott’s specialty, but they seemed more personal. That way they wouldn’t have to deal with reservations or a crowded restaurant.
He looked at the clock when he got into his car. He had about three hours before Isaac would get home from the office he had rented downtown for his writing. The school Scott teaches at had a half day, because parents were freaking out about the snowstorm that was supposedly coming later that day. He called Isaac telling him to be careful getting home, but the storm wouldn’t actually be rolling in until later.
As he was preparing the food, his mind kept wandering to Isaac. It was still only one thirty, so he really shouldn’t be as worried as he was. Isaac was still working and would be for another hour and a half. He cursed as he realized he almost burned what was on the stove.
The meal was finished with only a few hitches and he didn’t set their apartment on fire, so Scott counted it as a success. The kitchen was pretty destroyed though, so he dragged their table and chairs into the living room.
He resisted the urge to call or text Isaac to check up. He knew Isaac well enough by now to know that the better he could concentrate, the sooner he’d be home. That was what Scott needed right now, for his husband to be home and safe.
Outside, the wind was picking up and the snow was coming down harder. Scott looked at his watch again. “Two-thirty. Okay, I can wait half an hour. Get a hold of yourself,” he said, going into the hallway closet to look for the wine glasses they got from Lydia and to keep himself busy.
At four, Scott was officially freaking out. After he put the wine back in the refrigerator and put their diner in the oven to keep it warm, he turned on the tv to try to distract himself from the growing feeling that something was wrong and turned it off five minutes later when a breaking news report about car accidents on the freeway came on. He ran a hand over his face and tried to stay calm. Isaac wasn’t that late, but that was the thing. Yeah, an hour for anyone else would be a little concerning, but Isaac was almost always early to everything and this was important. Isaac would have called, if he knew he was going to be this late. There was also the fact that he could barely see out the window anymore. He spun his phone on the coffee table and decided he didn’t give a damn about Isaac’s concentration right now and called him. “Hi, you’ve reached Isaac McCall. You know what to do,” came Isaac’s pre-recorded voice. When he was about to try again, the screen flashed the last number he wanted to see on it right now. Mom - Work.
He answered with a shaking hand. “No. No, you’re not calling,” he said, panicked.
“Scott, I’m sorry,” she said softly. “Isaac... He got in a car accident.”
He shot off of the couch and grabbed his keys and threw on his shoes. “I’m on my way. How bad is it?” He asked, trying to sound calm, but he knew better than to think that his mom actually believed his front. God-damn it, he should have just told him to come home earlier.
“Scott, maybe you should wait a bit. It’s really bad out there and I’ll keep an eye on him,” she suggested. By the time she did, Scott was already outside.
“Mom, he’s my husband. I’m coming. How bad is it?” He asked again, his voice harder than he intended.
She sighed heavily before answering. “He’s alive, but he’s pretty banged up. They took him into surgery when he got here.” There was some rustling in the background that didn’t sound good. “I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, honey. Be careful.”
“I will be. See you soon, mom,” he said. Melissa ended the call and Scott took a deep breath.
He pulled out the parking garage and decided that snow storms were his least favorite thing. When he finally got to the hospital, he pulled into the parking lot and hoped what he did somewhat resembled parking. “Be okay,” he commanded in a whisper. He could only hope Isaac could hear him, which was stupid, but it was the only thing keeping him somewhat calm. “Isaac, please. I love you. I need you.” He walked up to the nurses’ station quickly asked where his husband was. Isaac was still in surgery and he was asked to please take a seat in the waiting room. He fell into one of the stiff plastic chairs and buried his head in his hands, taking another deep breath. The room reeked of cleaning supplies and chemicals and he wanted to get out, but he couldn’t. He needed to wait for Isaac. There were tears coming unbidden from his eyes and he wiped them away. He sat there for what seemed like days, but in reality was probably only a couple of hours.
He must have been distracted by the rush blood whooshing in his ears and the pounding of his heart, because he didn’t even notice his mother had walked up until gentle arms pulled him in. Scott pulled his mom in and nuzzled his head in her shoulder as she ran a hand through his hair. “Isaac’s in recovery now. He’s not going to be conscious for a while, but you can see him, if you want.” Scott nodded and followed his mother to a room down the hall. She squeezed her son’s arm and left him in the room with his unconscious husband. “My shift ends in an hour and I’ll be by to check up on you two. Dr. Ellis is going to come in to talk to you about Isaac.”
“Okay. Thanks, mom,” he said, giving her another long hug.
“Scott,” she said from the doorway. “He should be fine.”
Scott nodded and sat down in the chair next to the bed. He looked over at the man on the bed. He did look banged up, but he was breathing on his own. That much was good.
There was a quick knock before a thin women with dark blonde hair pulled back in a bun entered the room. “Scott? I’m Dr. Ellis.”
“Yeah, hi,” he answered, standing up and shaking her hand, trying to keep up a somewhat professional front and hide the panic that was building up in his chest. He shoved his shaking hands in his pockets to help steady them. “So, what do I need to do? Or what is being done? I’m sorry I don’t really know what I’m supposed to be asking,” he said honestly, drawing his eyebrows together.
“It’s okay,” she answered with a sad smile. “Let’s sit down.”
Scott’s mind started buzzing as he sat down in the chair behind him. “Why am I sitting down? I mean - he’s not - he’s going to be fine, right?” He asked around the lump in his throat.
“He is expected to recover, yes, but he suffered severe head trauma. Of course, we can’t say anything for sure, but there is a very good chance that when he wakes up, he’s going to have memory loss. We’re not sure how much he’s going to lose and you need to be prepared for that.”
Scott ran a hand over his face. “So, you’re telling me that when he wakes up, my husband might not even remember who I am?” He asked, unable to keep the panic from his voice.
“It is possible. I am really sorry, Scott. We’ll do everything we can, but he did suffer a pretty bad concussion.”
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“Hey, bro,” Stiles said, entering the room. “Come on, I’m taking you home.” He pulled his friend out of the chair he was sitting in.
“I can’t go home,” Scott insisted, shaking himself awake.
“Scott, you need to eat and get at least a few hours of good sleep.”
“I was sleeping,” Scott mumbled, fixing Stiles with a glare. “And what if he wakes up?! I have to be here for him!”
Stiles crossed his arms and glared back at his friend. “And what do you think Isaac would do, if he knew you haven’t been home since he’s been here?”
“He’d want me to go home,” he mumbled, looking down at the floor and stuffing his hands in his pockets.
“Exactly,” Stiles said pointedly and guided his friend out of the room. “I’m sure your mom has people checking up on Isaac around the clock. He’s in good hands, man.”
Scott nodded and wiped some of the sleep from his face, not that that helped much. Stiles was right there really was no way to get any decent sleep here. The chairs were damn uncomfortable and the beeping of the monitors were a constant reminder of where he was and why. “Hey, Stiles, do you think I could crash with you and Derek?” He asked, when they got into the jeep. “I just - I don’t really want to be alone.”
“Yeah, of course,” the other man answered, squeezing Scott’s shoulder. “As long as you want. While we’re out, is there anything you want to eat?”
Scott shrugged. “Not really. Burgers I guess,” he said, knowing he probably should eat something and that his best friend was unbelievably stubborn and was probably reporting back to his mom.
“Burgers is it!” Stiles said with an impressive amount of enthusiasm, getting off the freeway.
“Thanks, man,” Scott said, giving his friend a small smile.
“Hey, I was there for you for the Bleached Hair Incident, of course I’m gonna be here for this.”
“In my defense, it was only part of my hair and everyone dies their hair in college,” Scott retorted, appreciating the distraction.
“Doesn’t mean everyone should,” Stiles insisted, smirking. Scott shoved his shoulder lightly. “No assaulting the driver, dude!”