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He’d left a message of all things. One simple sentence: Scott, it’s Derek, I’m ok…I’m alive.
Scott gets it after they come back from the motel. His phone is buried at the bottom of his sports bag and it isn’t until Stiles goes home after literal hours of Scott assuring him that he is ok. He’s not going to do anything (“I promise, Stiles. It was just messing with my head. I’m ok, Stiles. I’m ok.”). He fishes the phone out and listens to the message. Then he listens again. And again. And one more time to make sure it isn’t a trick.
He’s halfway out of his bedroom door before he stops, turns around to put on sneakers and a shirt before he bolts. Derek’s loft comes into view minutes later: as dark and looming as ever. But if Scott concentrates hard enough he can hear a heartbeat. He follows it, his own heart beating faster as he gets closer.
“Sco--” His name is barely out of Derek’s mouth before Scott barrels into him. He has to get on his tip toes to wrap his arms around the alpha’s neck and breathe him in. But there Derek is: alive and whole and there.
“I’m ok, Scott. I’m ok. I’m alright.” Derek murmurs into Scott’s hair. He’s holding him just as tight, rocking Scott back and forth, almost lifting him off of the floor.
When Scott pulls back it’s to look in Derek’s eyes. To commit their color to memory. He cups Derek’s face and brushes his thumbs under his eyes and across his cheekbones. The kiss doesn’t exactly come out of nowhere, their faces are so close, but it surprises Scott. Surprises him even more that Derek lets him…that he doesn’t pull away.
“Derek I’m--” Scott starts to apologize when Derek cuts him off.
“It’s ok. I’m ok.”
“I know I just…” Scott trails off.
“Do you want to stay?” Derek asks gently.
“Can I?” Scott asks tentatively.
Derek just pulls him further inside and closes the door behind them. When they lay down in Derek’s big bed Scott wraps himself around the alpha tight and all the tension melts out of him when Derek holds his hands close to his chest.