Chapter Text
Melissa greets Scott at the airport with an embarrassingly large sign and Scott doesn’t actually care. He might have also run into her arms. Maybe.
(He missed his mom, all right?)
“I missed you so much,” Melissa says, squeezing her son. Scott grins down at her – shit, he really did have a growth spurt at uni – and kisses her on the cheek.
“How’ve you been, mom?” he asks, as they walk to where the car is parked. “How’s the Sheriff?”
Sheriff Stilinksi’s been dating his Melissa for seven years now. Even Scott thinks they’re ridiculously great for each other. The Sheriff even has a little kid who’s ten, and he totally idolizes Scott (even though he thinks he’s an idiot sometimes).
“Oh, he’s fine,” Melissa says, smiling over at Scott. “You wanna drive?”
Scott jumps into the car, and proceeds to interrogate his mother over what’s happened over the last couple of years. Scott hadn’t been able to visit in a while – his professors, though lovely, are tough as shit – and he’s been missing everyone.
“How’s Stiles? Oh my god, how’s Lydia? Does Stiles still have a crush on her?”
Melissa laughs loudly. “You could say that. And he’s fine. He’s really looking forward to having you back, Scott. He’s started a new school last week, and I swear his classmates already know everything from your shoe size to your favourite colour. It’s ridiculous.”
Scott laughs fondly. “How’s Deaton? I was hoping I could get a job at his clinic.”
Dr. Deaton was the person that got Scott into veterinary science. Scott even worked at his clinic when he was in high school.
“Alan’s fine,” Melissa says. “You have no idea how pleased he was when I said you were getting your degree. Well, he told me about it. He still scares me a bit, you know? Does that man know everything?”
“Yeah,” Scott says. “That’s what it seams like, anyway.”
They lapse into a comfortable silence, and Scott finally pulls into the driveway of the house. “Home sweet home,” he says, and he goes to get his bags out of the boot.
“You need a hand with that?” says a familiar voice by his shoulder, and Scott turns around to see Sheriff Stilinski standing next to him. “Hey, Sheriff!” Scott says, giving him a hug. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m not too bad,” the Sheriff says, grinning. “You?”
“I’m great,” Scott replies, slinging his duffle bag over his shoulder. “Where’s Stiles?”
The Sheriff turns to yell into the house. “Hey Stiles! Guess who’s back?”
Stiles peaks his head around the door frame, and his face breaks out into a grin when he sees Scott. “Scott!” He yells and he pounds down the stairs. “You’re back!”
Scott laughs as Stiles collides into him. “Hey buddy!”
“Aww man, you’ve gotta see this new video game I just got. I kicked Jackson Whittemore’s butt on it last night. But that’s okay, because he’s a butt as well. How was school? Are you still sad about your girlfriend? Or ex-girlfriend? Are you gonna work for Deaton? Because he was over for dinner a few days ago and he told me about the wolves and–”
“Woah there,” Sheriff Stilinski says, putting a hand on his son’s shoulder. “Calm down. Scott hasn’t even gotten in the house yet.”
Stiles smiles sheepishly up at Scott. “Sorry,” he says but Scott shrugs.
“Nah, it’s cool,” he says. “Tell be about that video game in a second, yeah?”
Stiles grins toothily up at him – Scott notices that his front tooth is missing – and bounds back into the house. Scott follows him up there, dragging his suitcase along. Not much has changed. There more of Stiles’ stuff lying around but Scott doesn’t mind. It’s a bit like how it was when he was a kid. There are still embarrassing baby photos hanging on the walls, and Scott’s high school diploma is framed next to them.
Sheriff Stilinski claps him on the back and tells him dinner should be ready in an hour, and Melissa kisses him on the cheek again. Scott goes to the living room – still the same, except with a cool new flat screen and the newest Xbox – to talk to Stiles about his new video game.
It’s a few months later, while Scott’s helping Deaton reset a dog’s broken leg, when he gets the phone call. He wraps the bandages around the dog’s leg and goes to pick up his phone.
“Hey, mom,” he says as he picks it up. “What’s up?”
“Oh, sweetie, can you get off work early today? Stiles’ teacher just called and the hospital is swamped right now and you know the police station is gonna be too. Do you mind going to Stiles’ school to see what’s happened? You’re listed as a contact anyway,” Melissa says.
“I’ll talk to Doc, but it should be fine. I’ll call you when we’ve finished.”
Melissa thanks him again, and Scott hangs up. He turns to Deaton, and Deaton looks thoughtfully at him.
“Go,” he says, turning back to the dog with a smile. “I can handle it from here. You go take care of your brother.”
Scott thanks him, putting on his jacket. He promises he’ll be in early tomorrow, and rushes out to his car.
He drives out to the Beacon Hills Elementary School – still as red-bricked and paint-splattered as ever – and walks through the front doors to meet the receptionist.
“Hey, I’m Scott McCall? I’m here to see Stiles.”
The receptionist raises an eyebrow at him, clicking her mouse a few times. “You Stiles’ step-brother?” she asks.
“Kinda?” Scott says. “The school called my mom, but she was a bit busy…”
“It’s fine, kid,” the receptionist says. “Go to room 10A, Mr. Stilinski should be in there now. It’s down that corridor–”
“Yeah, I know,” Scott says. “I used to go here.”
The receptionist cracks a small smile, and nods at him. She turns back to her computer, and Scott makes his way down the halls to classroom 10A. It was next to his old classroom, if his fuzzy memories are right, and up a flight of stairs.
As Scott walks down another drawing-covered corridor, he hears the sound of laughter. Stiles’ laughter.
Scott peaks his head around the classroom door, and knocks lightly on the door frame. Stiles swivels around, and grins immediately at the sight of him.
“Hey!” Stiles says, bounding up to him. “I was hoping they’d call you.”
“So you must be the famous Scott McCall,” says a voice, and Scott looks up and promptly loses his cool. The man standing before him is lean muscle stretched over long bones, and his hair is boyishly curly and a light golden brown and his eyes are cornflower blue and really fucking pretty and Scott needs to say something right now.
“I guess I am,” he says, and he extends his hand.
“I’m Isaac Lahey. Stiles’ teacher? It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McCall. Stiles never shuts up about you,” pretty blue eyes – Isaac – says, and Scott glances at Stiles.
“Really, now?” he says, teasing and Stiles sticks his tongue out at him.
“I don’t say good things,” he says petulantly, and Isaac laughs. “No,” he says. “Just about how cool you are, and how you can totally beat everyone at lacrosse, and–”
“Mr. Lahey,” Stiles whines, drawing out the ‘y’. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”
Isaac shakes his head, curls falling over his forehead. “I’m Switzerland in this situation, kid. Now, do you wanna tell Mr. McCall about what happened today?”
“Scott,” Scott blurts out suddenly. Isaac looks at him curiously, and he blushes slightly. “Call me Scott, please.”
Isaac nods. “Alright. Stiles, tell Scott about what happened today.”
Stiles sighs, sitting down on a table. “Before I say anything,” he says, “You have to promise not to be mad.”
Scott shrugs. “I won’t be mad. I can’t say the same about mom and your dad, though.”
Stiles whispers something that sounds suspiciously like “shit”, and Isaac gives him a warning look. “Stiles,” he says patiently. “Do you want me to call your father in tomorrow so I can talk to him, instead?”
Stiles shakes his head, and sucks in a breath. “Okay, so I may or may not have been in a fight. Except it wasn’t much of a fight considering Jackson’s like five inches taller than me and does, like, wrestling or something! He was being a jerk, okay? And I was smart mouthing and he hit me so I hit him back but he started it! Just because he’s a stupid crybaby who told his mom doesn’t mean he shouldn’t get in trouble too!”
Scott blinks, looking at Isaac, then back at Stiles. “Okay?” he says. He still doesn’t really understand why he’s even at the school. It was just a little spat.
“I know,” Isaac says, and shit was Scott talking out loud? “But Jackson’s parents filed a complaint, so we’re gonna have to put Stiles in after-school detention.”
“Detention?” Scott says in disbelief. “He’s ten for crying out loud. Is the other kid gonna get this too? Do elementary schools even have detention?”
Isaac shakes his head sadly. “They’re not like high school detentions, if that’s what you’re thinking. We just call it detention. The school calls them ‘disciplinary workshops’.”
“They’re boring,” Stiles says, shoulders slumping, and Scott splutters.
“You’ve been to more than one?” he says, but Stiles rolls his eyes at him.
“Jackson hates me, okay? Besides, they’re kinda fun with Mr. Lahey in charge of them!” Stiles says, and Isaac turns pink. “Anyway,” he says. “It’s gonna be for forty-five minutes after school tomorrow. All the school buses are gonna be gone by then, so unless Stiles wants to wait until the late buses come for the extra-curricular clubs, he’s gonna need a lift back home.”
Scott nods. “Yeah, okay. I’ll come pick him up tomorrow.” He turns to Stiles, and says, “Just don’t pi-annoy any more of your classmates, alright? You don’t need to get in trouble for silly things.” Stiles nods at him, hopping off the desk. “Can we go now?” he asks, and Isaac laughs.
“Sure. It was nice meeting you Mr. McCall,” he says, smiling at Scott.
“It’s Scott,” Scott reminds him with a grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
He turns around, and takes Stiles by the hand. “Bye Mr. Lahey!” Stiles yells over his shoulder, and Isaac laughs again.
“Bye, Stiles. And bye Scott,” he says, and Scott finds himself liking the way Isaac says his name.
Shit.
It’s been three months since that first meeting with Mr. Lahey, and Stiles has been in two more disciplinary workshops since then. Both of those times, Scott was working late, so his mom and Sheriff Stilinski went to go sort everything out. Scott totally doesn’t mind. And he totally wasn’t looking forward to seeing Isaac again.
Totally not.
He didn’t realize how, well, broody he was being until Derek Hale – of all people – pointed it out.
Derek’s family owns the new zoo in town, and Deaton had sent Scott in to check on one of their wolves.
“Her name’s Summer,” Derek says, and tilts his head at Scott. “Everything alright with you?”
“Me?” Scott says. “I’m totally fine, why?”
Derek shrugs, leaning against the wall. “You just seem kind of annoyed I guess.”
Scott shrugs. “Nah,” he says. “I didn’t even know.” He runs his hand over the wolf’s soft grey fur. “Summer, huh? Like, from Game of Thrones?”
Derek stares blankly at him. “What?”
“Never mind,” Scott says, shaking his head. “So what happened?”
“She got in a fight with one of the other wolves and got bitten. We just want to make sure the bite isn’t infected. It happened a few days ago.”
Scott nods, cautiously checking the bandages on the wolf’s side. “So,” he says. “What was the other wolf’s name?”
“Grey Wind,” Derek says, and Scott barks out a laugh.
“Oh, you have got to be kidding me.”
“What?” Derek says, kicking off the wall. “What are you–”
Scott shakes his head, replacing the bandages over the wolf’s bite. “Don’t worry, man. Just watch the show.”
After that, Scott drives back to the clinic, whistling along to the radio. It was nice to work with animals that aren’t common household pets – unless you were a Stark, or a Hale – for a change.
When Scott gets back, he spots a shining red car in the parking lot, and rushes in to greet the customer. “Hey,” he says. “Sorry I wasn’t here earlier.”
“Oh, it’s all right,” Isaac Lahey says, and Scott almost trips over himself.
“I wasn’t waiting for long,” he continues. “It’s just time for my cat to get her shots, and I just got off work.”
“Stiles isn’t in detention today then, huh?” Scott jokes, walking around the counter.
Isaac laughs, and shakes his head. “No, thankfully,” he says.
In his arms, Isaac’s cat snarls, and Scott peers over the counter to look at it.
“Sorry,” Isaac says sheepishly. “She doesn’t like the vet. Maybe she’ll like you better than Deaton, though.”
“I doubt it,” Scott says. “Cats don’t like me very much.”
Scott leads Isaac out to the back, where he sets his cat – Medea – on the table. Isaac pets her as Scott goes to fetch the injections, and she snarls at him again when he comes back.
After Medea gets her shots and Scott narrowly escaped with all his fingers, Isaac cuddles her to his chest. “She isn’t usually this… feisty,” he says. “See? She’s fine now. Cats, dude,” he shakes his head, and Scott nods.
“Thanks,” Isaac says, and Scott walks with him back out front. Isaac coaxes Medea into her cage, and turns to shake Scott’s hand. “Sorry about the cat. Again.”
“It’s cool,” Scott says, and Isaac nods.
“Anyway, I’ll see you soon,” Isaac says, hand on the doorknob. “Bye, Scott.”
Scott raises his hand awkwardly in goodbye, and when Isaac leaves, hits himself on the forehead.
“McCall, you are a fucking idiot,” he tells himself, and he runs to the door and flings it open.
“Hey, Isaac?” he calls across the street, and Isaac looks up from where he’s opening the door to his car. Scott rushes across the car park to where Isaac is looking at him in amusement, and breathes in deeply.
“I was wondering, if you want, if we could have a cup of coffee sometime? Or a cup of tea. Or any beverage, really,” Scott says, and Isaac laughs. “God, I’m an idiot,” Scott mutters to himself.
“No,” Isaac says, and Scott’s face just falls.
“That’s not what I meant! Oh my god,” Isaac says, laughing even harder. “I meant that you’re not an idiot. And that I would love to.”
“You would?” Scott says, grinning like a teenager. “Is, um, this Sunday at noon alright with you? At that new place downtown, um, what’s it called…”
“I know the place you mean,” Isaac says, nodding. “And it’s been open for a couple of years, man.”
“Well, I’ve been gone for a couple of years,” Scott retorts, feeling giddy and happy and probably grinning like a fool.
“Maybe you need someone to show you around again,” Isaac says, smirking. “I’ll see you on Sunday.”
“Yeah,” Scott says, and Isaac gets into his car.
Scott totally doesn’t stand in the parking lot for the next five minutes smiling at the ground. He does not.