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They have a little disagreement. Well, maybe more argument than disagreement. Maybe, even more, fight than disagreement. Either way, it's bad. It's just that Scott hasn't been feeling well since his mom left and things are starting to pile up, okay? And sometimes Stiles throws too much onto his pile like it's the chair he stacks all his not-quite-dirty laundry on.
Scott doesn't need any more in his pile.
"Can we talk about something else, please?" Stiles had been regaling him with the tales of Sheriff Stilinski's epic unfairness and the cruelty of an 11 o'clock curfew.
"There's things to investigate you know!" And any other day he could have listened on with a smile and well-placed nods, maybe even a few 'Dude!'s thrown in for flavoring. But he was on his period a week early and the cramps and nausea were killing him.
"Dude, what else is there to talk about? There's nothing going on in your life since you moved."
"And how would know?"
"Cause you never said anything?"
"Maybe cause you never let me get a word in edgewise?"
Stiles has the decency to look guilty for a moment but only just," And what the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"It means you never even ask me about things, is what it means. Every day you tell me the same stories about your dad but you don't even ask about my mom."
"I already know how she's doing so why ask?"
"Maybe I want to tell you about my day for once, Stiles!"
"Fine then tell me!"
"It fucking sucked and now I'm here that's how it went!" Scott shouts, cheeks rushing with color.
"Wow, what a great example of storytelling." Stiles claps for him mockingly and they both know how much he hates it when that happens.
Scott doesn't answer anymore, he packs his things and leaves, he doesn't even slam the door on his way out. He ignores Stiles' shouts and keeps going. Maybe it's over the top or too dramatic but he doesn’t really care at this point.
When he get's home Grandma Boyd is in the kitchen with Allison, teaching her how to use the blow troche to get the crust just right on a creme Brule, even tho he doesn't slam the door or greet them any differently she still calls him into the kitchen to take a seat with them.
"Allison how about we take a little break with Scott and tell him about our day?" Allison beams up at her, before shooting off to wash her hands.
"Now, you young man, what's going on?" Scott bites his lip, carefully thinking of how to answer without breaking into a rant.
"Nothing, Stiles and I just had a little argument, is all. It's no big deal." She raises her eyebrow at this, taking a sip of her long chilled tea on the table.
"Your body language says it matters. Do you realize how tense you look? If you were a spring you'd pop." Scott blushes a bit and tries to force himself to relax.
"Don't do it like that, you're gonna internalize all the bad things you feel and you know what? That'll give you an ulcer? I lived most of my life holding things in and I'm not gonna let you make the same mistake."
Allison ambles back over, fresh dry hands and a large glass of orange juice for herself. "Did you bring that to share?" Grandma Boyd asks teasingly. Allison shakes her head.
"Nope! But I can pour a glass for you too," Grandma Boyd ruffles her hair.
"I'll definitely take you up on that offer little lady."
Scott smiles, a bit of his tension easing out. It's nice to see his mixed little family working together so well and caring about each other so much. It makes him feel a bit better just to be near them.
"Have you been doing your mindfulness meditations? I know your mother brought you about a thousand CDs before she left. You might as well use them if you're going to be this stressed out." Boyd walks in before he can reply, sweeping down to give his grandmother a kiss.
"Hello everyone, how're all of you?"
His grandmother beams at him,"Now aren't you in a good mood," and pinches his cheeks affectionately.
"I just finished tackling a few overinflated egos of an hour, then I got them to run suicides. I don't think I could feel more chipper. "
Grandma Boyd sticks out her tongue in faux disgust,"Ugh, don't get too chipper if you keep smiling like that someone might get worried."
Allison gulps down her juice, legs kicking cheerfully under the table and Scott stays quietly in his seat, putting his head down on the table while Boyd and his grandmother talk about their days. It feels good.
It feels really good.
The next day he wakes up with a fever and the worst cramps of his life. He doesn't remember how he got into his bed but he's relieved that he's somewhere soft when everything feels so sharp.
"You wanna go to the doctor?" Derek asks, checking his temperature.
Scott shakes his head. He should be fine, getting a bit sick like this happens every now and then, he'll probably feel better with more rest. "Just leave some water and ibuprofen in here for me, I'm going back to sleep." He pulls the blankets up over his head and takes deep calming breaths under the blanket on a count of 10-8, faintly he can hear someone place something on his nightstand but the sound is short and feels far away from him the more he fades back into sleep.
Stiles makes a beeline for Boyd as soon as he heads out of the school, almost launching himself from his bored lean against the jeep. He looks like he’d been waiting for him since the school day ended and was only feigning boredom with his careless slouch.
“What’s wrong with Scott?” He blurts out, not even sparing a moment on pleasantries. Boyd’s mood instantly sours.
“What the hell are you talking about Stilinski?” Stiles frowns, looking almost angry with him.
“He hasn’t texted me all day and he bailed on me yesterday, we were supposed to hang out at my place. Scott never bails on me.” Boyd thinks back to the conversation he had with Scott the other day with a newfound understanding.
“You do realize that the world doesn’t revolve around you don’t you?” Stiles bristles at this, scowling at the taller boy.
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“Exactly what I said. Do I need to repeat it? Are you unclear about what I mean? Should I use simpler terms?”
“I don’t think the world revolves around me!” Boyd scoffs, rolling his eyes,”I don’t! Scott’s the one who’s always putting himself in the middle of things, I’m just trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. He barely texts me back, he’s suddenly bailing on me, ignoring me in the halls and I’m the one whose being an asshole?” His face is red by the time he’s finished and Boyd is openly glaring at him now.
“Oh poor you. How dare Scott ever have a life outside of Stiles fucking Stilinski, the sun of his life. It’s not like he has school and a job to worry about, it’s not like he does lacrosse or anything. It’s not like his life has any more meaning than being your plus one. I’ll let him know you asked about him.” Boyd turns away, walking past the bus stop.
He can’t imagine just sitting and stewing in this bad mood for the twenty-minute bus ride. He’d rather spend forty minutes walking home on top of practice than run the scenario through his head over and over again.
Stiles drives after him, pulling up beside him,”You know what? Fuck you, Boyd, you don’t know me. You don’t know Scott and you don’t know me.” He speeds off before Boyd can argue with him more. Which Boyd takes as a blessing. He’d rather not going to jail for pulling the Sheriff’s kid out of his car and kicking the shit out of him on the side of the road.
When Boyd finally makes it into the door it feels like the weight of the world is resting heavily on his shoulders. Where being home from school would usually relax him the events of the day make it almost impossible for him to think positively about anything. In the house everything seems a bit out of place, for one, nobody's home at all, besides Scott, wherever he is. Usually by now Derek and Allison are back from school with Lydia in tow.
Not only is no one home, but his phone doesn’t have a single message waiting which would generally be a positive but, in this case, it’s not exactly comforting.
He sets his bag down by the door and makes his way into the living room, sinking into the couch with a heavy thump. He should check on Scott soon, he thinks, and he tries to will all of the tension out of his body. Between football practice and his argument with Stiles, he’s so on edge. He doesn’t want to see Scott when he’s in a mood like this. The other boy had a habit of internalizing other people’s negative emotions and he doesn’t want to put that on his friend when he’s already feeling so sick.
Maybe he’ll be feeling better by now. He thinks to himself. He’d had a really bad stomach ache when Boyd left in the morning and they all agreed that if it wasn’t better by the time Derek got home from work they’d take him to the emergency room to check it out. Well, Scott insisted that they wait actually, Derek was fully onboard with the idea of taking Scott to the hospital as soon as he heard that Scott was in pain at all, but Scott convinced him it was probably nothing serious.
“Scott’s the one who’s always putting himself in the middle of things!”
Thinking about again makes him sick to his stomach. He pushes the thoughts down, heading upstairs to check on Scott, maybe they’ll take the spare car and go out to dinner since no one seems to be home.
“Scott, are you awake?” He knocks at the door, waiting for any kind of answer. When none comes, not even a sleepy groan, he opens the door and pokes his head in, a little worried now.
“Scott?” He’s not in bed and his sheets are bunched up on the floor by the door. He walks over to the bathroom, thinking he might have gone to wash his face. He’s not there either and the worry comes in full force now. He checks all the upstairs rooms, even the attic, just in case he might have chosen to use someone else’s bed in his confusion.
He bounds down the stairs, checking all the rooms on the first floor, he’s nowhere to be found. He hears a soft pained groan coming from the kitchen and he all but sprints over. Lying on the floor, completely unconscious is Scott, looking as if he’s been there for quite some time, and breathing far to harshly for him to not be experiencing the most excruciating pain ever.
“Scott? Scott, can you hear me?” The other boy doesn't respond, sending Boyd into a panic.
“Shit, we’ve got to take you to the hospital.” He picks him up carefully, supporting most of his weight with one arm as he rushes to the garage. He’s so warm, too warm, and his shirt is almost soaked through with sweat.
“Why didn’t you call?” He asks, it’s more to himself, as he gets him into the seat, leaning it back all the way and before getting into the driver's side. The garage is open and he’s out before tearing out like a bat out of hell before he can worry about it anymore. There's no use worrying about the what ifs of the situation.
He’s going way over the limit but he doesn’t care, his best friend was passed out on the kitchen floor in utter agony, how could he obey the speed limit in a case like this.
“We’ll be at the hospital soon okay? Just hang in there.”
When they make it to the emergency room, Boyd holding a now semi-conscious Scott in his arms the nurses are on him in an instant, getting Scott onto a stretcher and to a doctor before Boyd can make too much of a scene.
They give him the paperwork to fill out and promises that the doctors will do everything to take care of his friend. He calls Derek and his grandmother in a haze feeling too upset to really focus clearly on anything deeply. But he does his best to be clear and not worry them too much.
”It’s really lucky that you brought him in time, even an hour later it may have been too late to operate on him. He’s resting after the procedure so you can all visit him one or two at a time since he’s still a little weak. We have him on oxygen too since he was having some troubling breathing earlier so hopefully it should be okay.” They all nod solemnly, taking in the gravity of the doctor's words.
“I didn’t know you could die from appendicitis.” Boyd’s grandmother speaks up first, shaking her head.
“Well he didn’t have appendicitis when we were treating him, his appendix had already burst at that point, he was suffering from peritonitis, which is a much more dangerous. If he’d gotten to us even an hour later I can’t say that this operation would have gone well. But we caught it with just a second to spare so there’s no need to worry. We have him on antibiotics and we’ll probably need to keep him here at least until the end of the week. Even after he’s cleared to go home I would suggest at least two weeks of bedrest."
Boyd’s the last one to visit him that night, his grandmother presses the keys to the car in his hand before she makes her way out with Derek and Allison.
“You can stay as long as you like, the doctor said that overnight visits are okay since his condition is stabilizing. Derek arranged for him to have a single room and I think there’s one of those recliners that you like so much in there. I’ll bring you a change of clothes and some food tomorrow. Get some rest.” Boyd nods solemnly, wishing her a goodnight. She kisses him on the cheek and heads for the exit.
Boyd takes his time on the way to Scott’s room, he knows his condition will be way better now than before but he’s still nervous. Worried.
"Hey..." Scott smiles when he sees him come in.
"Hey." Boyd takes the seat beside his bed.
"Was worried you wouldn't come..." Scott's breaths are too soft and uneven to be natural. His chest tightens with worry at the thought of how much pain he must be in.
"Of course I came," Boyd takes his hand gently, "You can't get rid of me that easily."
Scott laughs weakly , sounding almost too tired to manage it," I'm glad... I'd miss you too much if you left.
Boyd doesn't know how to respond to that but Scott falls asleep quickly after. He tries not to focus on the shaky wave of anxiety that tries to overtake him, the doctor's words still rolling around in his head.
'If you'd been even an hour later...'
No.
H can't think like that. Not when Scott's here and whole and needs him. Maybe it could have been worse but he was there. He was there and it was okay. Their hands still touched and their warmth was still shared, Scott's soft, quiet breaths still filled the air.
It would be okay.
"Sometimes I feel like Stiles takes things out on me. Like when he gets in trouble with his dad or doesn't do well on a test then he's just..." Scott shrugs, not quite knowing how to continue.
"Like he wants to make you feel bad because he feels bad?" Boyd knows he has to be gentle in his questioning, Scott and Stiles have been friends since infancy, if he says the wrong thing it could put Scott on the defense and they might never talk about this again.
"I get mad too you know? Sometimes I don't even want to talk to him because I know what he'll say. How he'll act. It's hard to be his friend sometimes..." Boyd puts his hand on top of Scott’s.
"It makes sense to be upset if things like that tend to happen a lot." Scott nods. Looking as though he was fighting the thought in his own mind.
"It's not fair. We're best friends and I couldn't even tell him about-" His voices catches, for a moment it seems like he'll cry,"-about what happened. I knew he would make it about him. Or get mad at me. Like I was selfish. Maybe I am selfish..." He puts his face in his hands sighing.
"I must sound ridiculous."
"No, you just sound like your friend hurt you," Boyd assures him. "Maybe a little distance is just what you need, you know?"
"Maybe..." He looks down at his phone, thumb hovering over the send button.
'Sorry! I'm really busy this week, maybe next time.'
“Do whatever you need to do okay? I’ll support your choice.” He gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze. Scott nods presses the send key with a sigh of relief.
“Can we watch that movie?”
He doesn’t message Stiles the next day. Or the next day, or the day after that. Partly he feels too sick to really deal with Stiles and partly he realizes that he just doesn’t want to deal with Stiles anymore. Don’t get him wrong, he still loves him, they’re brothers, or… they’re supposed to be.
But now? Being sick and feeling as lost as he had lately... well maybe Boyd was right. A little space could do them good. OR at least that's what he tries to tell himself. His phone still buzzes intermittently with Stiles' indignant messages about bailing on him and new, almost pleading messages for him to answer his fucking phone.
Which, well, he doesn't of course, it still hurts if he shifts his body much, unless they give him enough morphine to down an elephant, and he doesn't want to upset his stitches to make a phone call. not when the pain is approaching bearable.
The doctor had said that if too much time had passed he would have been dead.
He could have died...
Scott doesn't know how to face that thought so he doesn't. He reaches out to Boyd, texts him, even though the other boy is definitely in class. He needs to feel a bit more grounded, or something like it.
'Text me back!' Stiles sends
'Can you come over?' Scott asks Boyd.
The first few days he'd stayed but he's been heading home more, now that Scott's condition was more stable.
Was it silly that Scott wanted to be sicker now?
'I'll be there after class, don't worry.' Boyd answers.
Scott smiles and let's his phone rest at his side.
He leans back into the pillows, closing his eyes. If he breathes just right it doesn't hurt as much.
Inhale.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Exhale.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Repeat.
He should probably say something about the pain, it's been a week and it shouldn't hurt like this. Well, maybe it shouldn't hurt like this? He wouldn't know he's never had anything burst inside of him before. Maybe it should be hurting more and he got off lucky to just ache. Maybe...
He doesn't mean to fall asleep but at least when he wakes up he's not alone. A nurse is there swapping out bags and checking his needles as gently as she can.
Boyd's there too, watching her work carefully. He didn't even hear him come in.
"Why-" Yuck, his voice is all croaky, how long was he out again?," Why didn't you wake me up?" Boyd gives him a little wink.
"You need your rest remember?" Scott scoffs at that.
"All I do is rest."
"As you should," the nurse interjects,"you need every bit of rest you can get so you can heal faster." That sounds like something his mom would say.
"I feel so lazy, though..."
"If going through surgery doesn't give the right to be lazy, then what does?"
Being dead, he thinks but doesn't say. "I guess your right," he says instead.
That seems to satisfy her,"You're blood pressure is a little high, you know? Are you in more pain than usual?"
Scott shrugs then winces.
I guess that answers that.
She fiddles with his morphine drip and gives him his pills and a small cup of water. "You're going to feel a little tired," she warns, "but when you wake up you'll feel much better."
Boyd reaches out to touch his hand, smiling at him warmly. The nurse excuses herself quietly, reminding Scott to buzz if he needs anything as she leaves.
His eyes start to droop a bit, and his body gets this cottony sandy feel. as if he's sinking down into nothing. The only thing still linked to reality was their hands.
But that was before...
He might be dreaming now, maybe, because everything is soft and the edges are lighter and smoother, almost liquid. Can dreams be like that, right? There's no pain, or at least he's risen above the pain, grown beyond it.
"I love you." He hears. It sounds like someone he knows but who can say who?
"I've loved you for a long time, even before we lived together." A warmth spreads through him when he hears those words.
'I love you too,' he wants to say back, but can't. Is his mouth even-
I wanted to tell you for so long, but you were always so busy, or so tired. You stretch yourself so thin..."
He doesn't know what to say to that. He wasn't even sure that someone could feel that way about him, let alone tell him how they felt.
"I'm not going to let you be alone anymore." They promise.
After that, it all went dark.
When he wakes up Boyd is still there, this time sleeping. His face seems a bit.. flushed, like someone who's been crying for just a bit longer than you can play off without being found out. Their fingers are still laced together, almost absently. As if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He tries not to think about how that make his heart jump.
"Could you... could you not tell Stiles that I'm here?" It's been about a week since he was first admitted Stiles had been texting him constantly all the while. He didn't think Boyd would have told him if he'd asked but Stiles had a way of getting under people's skin, he didn't want people to find out about him that way.
"I don't talk to him willingly," Boyd says, scrunching his nose in distaste,"I think I was pretty clear on where we stood last time."
"Boyd, please?" The other boy sighs; then squeezed his hand gently.
"I won't tell him anything."
Somewhere between episodes of one bland show to the next Boyd gets into bed with him. He's a solid friendly weight at his sound, making him feel more in place than he has in a while. His stitches don't even smart anymore.
It's nice.
"You know," Boyd starts, sounding more unsure than he'd ever heard him," I've been wanting to tell you something for a while..." He tries not to let his heart race, especially with the monitor announcing all of its frantic little beeps proudly but it' not as easy as it sounds.
"Oh?"
"Yeah..." Boyd squeezes his hand once, then again, just to get himself together.
They're looking at each other, Boyd taking note of everything beautiful, Scott trying to keep his breath, his heart, his mouth, all under control.
"I've like you for a long time now. I thought I could just keep it a secret. Ignore the feeling till it went away. Cause that's what I do you know? I try not to feel but then," He stops, he looks away, he takes a deep, deep breath," then you got sick. And I had to think about a world without you in it. A world where you were gone and you didn't even know how I felt about you..."
He takes another breath.
"I don't want any regrets with you. I want you to know how much I care about you."
He's not sure what else there is to say about it after that. Maybe that's why the don't say anything at all. They keep holding hands. Keep looking and not looking. Keep breathing.
They keep breathing until there is only one breathe shared between them. Lost in the soft magnetism in the warm air, the first touch and the rush of quiet that follows, the sharp uptick of the heart monitor.
It happens before anything can be said, only felt, tender as it was, and was over before it could consume. Just enough for the both of them.
"Well then Mr. McCall, it seems you're recovering at a very nice pace.You're round of antibiotics is almost finished and the stitches haven't come undone yet! You're a model patient if I do say so myself."
Scott flushes at the praise.
"Does this mean I can go home soon?" The doctor winks and finger guns at him.
"You've got it, young man. You should be able to go home by tomorrow afternoon if all goes well."
Scott let's out a sigh of relief. The same four walls of his hospital room had been starting to drive him a little crazy. Boyd and Derek and Allison came to visit a lot but it wasn't the same as being in his own bed. Walking around his own house, drinking from his own cup.
It's the little things that count the most.
"I'm sure you're excited for the chance to get back home. I'll call your guardian to get the arrangements made and you and I can talk about what need to to do to stay well after you get home alright?"
He nods dutifully and the doctor smiles,"Excellent, I'll see you this evening."
Mrs. Boyd comes alone this time, bearing a tray of cookies and a thermos of hot apple cider.
"My grandson's been keeping you company this whole week, but I wanted to see my other favorite boy before he zooms over to keep you to himself."She shoots him a playful wink before filling two little disposable cups up with cider. The sweet smelling steam wafts up and makes his mouth water.
"I've missed my soap opera buddy these days, you know no one else in the house gets them like you do." She hands him his cup, before taking a long slow sip of her own.
"I tried to make Derek watch with me," she leaned in eyes full of laughter, " this grown ass man was crying, in Spanish no less, after one episode. Scott I was truly at a loss."
A laugh bursts out of him, jostling his cup a bit, he can see it now, brrody Derek on his knees in teas as Esperanza leaves Carlos for Leona in her hot pink convertible. He can feel little tears welling up in his eyes.
"Oh my god!"
"I know! Imagine how I felt! I'm out her tryna figure out if Leona is a cyborg or a twin, cause of that year book photo in season one and the new clipping from season ten, and this fool just busts out crying!" Scott has to put his drink down to stop himself from spilling it everywhere. He's sure that no one wants to give him a spongebath on his last day.
"I really missed you guys, it gets kind of boring being stuck in here. No one to watch stories with."
She takes his hand and squeezes it," We've missed you too darling. We were worried about you for a moment there. You can't go scaring us like that..."
"Sorry..."
"Don't worry about it," Mrs. Boyd assures," Just drink up, you'll be home this time tomorrow."
Boyd's the one that takes him home the following afternoon. They leave together in the morning while the sunlight is still pale and soft, streaming down through the clouds in a way that makes Scott feel light and relaxed.
He's still a little wobbly when he walks for too long, but it's easier to manage when he and Boyd join arms to head down those last few steps.
"Did you get to eat this morning?" Scott shakes his head as he gets into the car.
"Good, grandma threw down today so you're gonna be eating for the next few hours anyway. She even tried this pan dulce recipe for you," Scott reaches out to take his free hand, squeezing it softly.
"I'm glad to be home..."
They come to a stop at the light and Boyd can't help but lean over to kiss him.
"I'm glad to have you back..."
The house is full of sweet, savory, mouth-watering smells when they get into the house, Scott's stomach growls, quietly, ready to eat proper food.
"No shoes in the house! I'm fixing a plate for Scott, so hurry up and eat." Grandma Boyd calls out from the kitchen, they leave their shoes in the garage and head up into the kitchen where three plates sit, each filled with piping hot breakfast foods, all with large mugs of tea beside them.
"Aww you fixed me a plate too," Boyd kissed her cheek with gratitude.
"Of course, baby, now sit down and eat you before you let it all get cold, go go. " She waves them both off and goes to take off her apron and headscarf before taking a seat with them at the table.
"Now I've been cooking all morning so I've already said grace, just say 'Amen' so we can dig in!"
"Amen," She beams at both of them.
"Good!"
As they take their time eating and talking Scott takes a moment to really take it all in. Grandma Boyd laughs at her own story, Boyd rolls his eyes at her affectionately. There's more food in the warmers spread across the kitchen counters and the room is full of love.
Under the table Boyd links their pinkies, giving him a wink as Grandma Boyd starts in on another tale. Scott smiles back, and everything...
Everything is okay.