Title: The Late Realization
Series: Sequel to Not Just Another Day
Pairing: Scott/Allison
Characters: Stiles, Scott, Allison, Derek
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Scott comes to the startling realization that he is sort of, maybe, definitely the worst best friend in the history of ever.
"An excuse has no place within an apology."
-Evette Carter
Scott is a good sort-of-ex-boyfriend. He still cares about Allison, who is wonderful and amazing and just the best girl ever. And she, miraculously, still cares about him. Even after everything that has happened between and around them since she had moved to Beacon Hills.
They've been through a lot of stuff. Almost getting killed (numerous times), Scott turning out to be a werewolf, Allison's family turning out to be werewolf hunters, her aunt dying, her mom dying, her grandfather hopefully dying, her trying to kill Scott (and a whole bunch of their friends).
It had been a pretty traumatic six months, no lie, but somehow when the two of them were alone together none of that stuff mattered. Even though she was still grieving, and he was still dealing with being, you know, a werewolf, they still loved each other. That hasn't changed, even if they are on a break.
Allison had said she needed to deal with her issues, get her head and heart straightened out, and mourn her mother. And that she couldn't do all of that and date Scott. So yes, they're on break. But that doesn't mean they don't talk and Skype, and see each other around. She's still best friends with Lydia, and with Lydia and Jackson back together, and Jackson joining the pack, it was kind of hard to not see each other on a fairly regular basis. They eat lunch together at the same table every day at school, and she's stayed involved with the pack business, he thinks mostly to try and make up for trying to kill everyone. Derek had only just recently stopped eyeing her critically each time she showed up for a meeting.
So yeah, Scott still loves her and cares about her, and right now they are working on being friends, with the potential maybe of getting back together someday, hopefully sooner rather than later. He has hope. And he's still kind of love crazy when it comes to Allison, so he should probably be forgiven for being sort of single-minded around the girl.
Scott spends a lot of his time trying not to fail school, hanging out with Stiles, working at the vet clinic, training with Derek and the other members of the pack, and spending as much time as he can with Allison. And things are looking up on that front. She's started cuddling with him, and holding his hand, and letting him be there for her, even spending time together one on one. It sort of makes him even more intense about her, even though he tries to keep a lid on that. Stiles laughs at him enough as it is.
And in his defense Scott doesn't have the best memory for dates. His history grades alone should be proof enough of that. He's not stupid, he's just intensely focused at times, sometimes about the wrong things, and dates are not something that usually stick in his head.
But that doesn't excuse his forgetting. Not something like this. Not at all. Afterwards he's surprised Stiles forgives him so readily, it'll probably take Scott a lot longer to forgive himself.
That Saturday, he wakes up to his phone going off. He'd been up late the night before, skyping with Allison. It was coming up on Mother's Day and she was having a hard time dealing with it.
"It helps, talking to you, Scott," she'd confessed, wiping at her face, and he'd quirked a smile at her.
"You can always talk to me, Allison. Because I love you," he'd said back. She'd smiled then, the bright beautiful rosy cheeked smile that made her dimples dig so far into her cheeks he'd wanted to press his fingertips in the divots they created.
"Goodnight, Scott," she'd said, tucking hair behind her ear. "I'll see you soon." He'd said goodbye and collapsed into bed exhausted.
So yes, it was his cellphone that woke him up the next day, not his alarm clock or his mom, Isaac on the line, telling him about the pack meeting.
"I'm not part of the pack," Scott had moaned, knowing it was a futile gesture, yawning and rolling over away from the too bright sun.
"Allison will be there…" Isaac taunted.
"Ok. Ok! Are you going to text everyone?" Scott had asked, reaching for his jeans.
"Of course, just get here, Derek says it's important," Isaac had replied. Scott got up and dressed, grabbing a banana on his way out of the house.
The meeting had been boring, just Derek and Peter going on and on about the alpha pack and their movements and their lack of actual trespassing on Hale pack land. Scott had fought not to roll his eyes, his mind focused on what he was going to do the rest of the day. He'd smiled at Allison halfway through the meeting and she'd smiled back, looking down and away. He'd contemplated asking her if she wanted to grab a late lunch, but she was on the other side of the room.
Scott had looked at Stiles then, wanting to ask his opinion on the idea, but Stiles had been slumped in his seat, expression closed off, his eyes focused on Derek with a thoughtful look on his face, Stiles had been sort of closed off since the whole kanima thing went down. Scott knew he was sort of fed up with all the Allison talk, so he'd suppressed the urge to bring it up, and had decided to wait. Allison was fairly good at getting across to him what she wanted at any given time. It was one of the reasons they worked out as well as they did, when murder and mayhem weren't pulling them in opposing directions.
Scott had bit his lip, and looked around the room again. Allison was sitting close to Lydia, their heads bent together. Lydia was saying something and Allison was nodding, half her attention focused on Lydia, the other half on Derek. Scott had contemplated listening in, but Derek had chosen that moment to wrap up the meeting with a warning to stick to their land, and to stay out of the woods without back-up.
Lydia and Allison had stood up then, moving further away, and Scott's focus had zeroed in on them. He'd watched as Allison had grown more and more upset. And he'd wanted to comfort her. He'd hesitated not wanting to interfere but she'd started to cry and he'd given in to the impulse.
It was easy to comfort Allison, to be there for her. He knows what to do to make her feel better. Or at least distract her. Maybe that's why he chose Allison that day, even though he didn't realize that was what he was doing…
Looking back he recognizes what was going on with Stiles. He can see his grief, his pain, remembers the barely there flinch when Scott had stupidly, STUPIDLY, mentioned studying for Chemistry. And he doesn't have an excuse. Not really. Just that he was distracted. Allison is very very distracting.
It's hours later before he realizes what day it is. He'd stayed with Allison for a while. He took her home, watched a movie with her until her Dad was due home right around dinner time so he rather reluctantly left her, getting a kiss goodbye (on the cheek) and a promise to talk more on Monday.
It's only right before dinner with his Mom that he remembered. He's a little ashamed it takes so long for the realization to hit. His mom had just come off a double, so she'd stuck a frozen lasagna into the oven, and they had sat down at the kitchen table to wait. Ever since she'd come to terms with the whole werewolf thing she'd insisted on these little family nights. She'd wanted to know what is going on. And she doesn't take no for an answer. So Scott had found himself sitting across from her, while she sat tiredly opposite him, one elbow braced on the table, the side of her face cupped in the palm of her hand.
"So, what's up?" she asked. He winced.
"Finals are coming up. Mr. Harris says if I fail his test, he's going to put me in summer school," he said. She sighed.
"Scott! I don't want that for you. You need to focus on finishing up the school year. Is there anyway Derek can, I don't know, handle things on his own until after the start of summer vacation?" she asked. He shrugged.
"That's not really how a pack works," he explained. She grimaced.
"I figured that's what you would say," she said. She got up and went to check on the lasagna. "How is Allison doing? After losing her mom…" she sighed, turning to look at Scott. "It's hard losing a parent like that. And to suicide..." she shook her head. Scott looked away, frowning. "I'm not sure which is worse. A sudden unexpected death, or what happened to Stiles. I mean... Cancer?" she frowned, gazing out the kitchen window over the sink. Scott looked back at her, mind already working. "Cancer is one of the worst things you can watch someone go through." She turned back to the oven.
That was all it took. One mention of Stiles' mother dying and suddenly he remembered. He immediately realized what date it was, and quickly recognizes the look on Stiles' face back in the den. And then he feels like the worst best friend in the entire world. The worst best friend in the history of ever.
In the past he's always remembered the date because of Stiles. The whole week leading up to that particular date he starts acting weird. Not like crazy or even depressed. But he sort of gets quiet. His sarcasm is somehow deflated, and he stays silent for longer periods of time. Also his ADHD seems to get weirdly calm. He starts getting contemplative. Scott isn't making excuses, because being a shitty shitty friend is inexcusable, but with all the crap going on lately, he hasn't been around Stiles for long stretches this past week. Not like he had last spring, or the spring before that. Between pack business and Allison, Scott and Stiles haven't spent as much time doing the things they used to do. Which sort of sucks, because when Scott stops and thinks about it, he misses him. Stiles really is pretty awesome. And Scott's missed hanging out in the Stilinski basement watching B-grade monster movies and eating junk food.
So yeah, Scott knows he's fucked up. But he also knows that he doesn't want Stiles spending the entire night alone. Not tonight of all the possible nights. And Scott remembers how these days always play out. So he sort of jumped up out of his chair at the kitchen table and ran out of the room, leaving his mother blinking at his empty chair in confusion, before calling out his name and tiredly chasing after him.
She finds him in his room stuffing game cartridges and DVD cases into a backpack.
"Scott?" she asks. He grimaces at her.
"I'm the worst best friend ever. I'm sorry but I gotta go. I'll be at Stiles' house. I'll be back tomorrow?" he says grabbing a clean t-shirt and cramming it into the top of the overly full backpack. She blinks at him in concern.
"No, Scott. What is going on here? What is wrong?" she asks. Scott zips up his backpack, and frowns.
"It's the anniversary of Mrs. Stilinski's death," he says quietly, avoiding her eyes. "I almost forgot. I did forget. I just need to get over there. Like now." He moves past her, and she chases him back downstairs.
"Ok! Ok," she says snagging him by the back of the t-shirt. She pulls him back around and he lets her. She gives him a calculating look. "You can go, not that I think I could stop you." She snatches up her purse from its customary spot by the hall closet and pulls out her wallet. "Here, order pizza." She hands him a couple of bills, and then yanks him close again, this time by the front of his shirt. "You're not a horrible friend. Just tell him you're sorry, and be there for him now," she advices. He nods, leaning over to peck her on the cheek.
"Thanks, Mom. I'm sorry about dinner," he says his face contorting with emotion. She smirks at him, rolling her eyes.
"More lasagna for me. Take your bike, and text me when you get there. I have the day shift tomorrow, but I'm expecting you home for dinner. Got it?" He nods.
"Of course. Night!" He backs out the door before she can delay him any further and she watches out the front window as he jumps on his bike starts pedaling away.
Stiles and his Dad don't live that far away. It's usually a leisurely five minute bike ride between Scott's house and the Stilinski residence. Tonight he makes the journey in just three minutes because he's rushing. He might get there faster than on average but to Scott the ride seems to take forever. A dozen different scenarios fly through his head. Stiles being upset. Stiles being pissed. Stiles not caring that he's alone. Stiles doing something stupid like getting drunk without Scott there to make sure he doesn't wander off into traffic. The one thing he doesn't consider is of course the one thing he finds. He spots the Camaro as soon as he turns onto the street, Derek's scent strong in the air, but already a few hours old. He frowns in confusion but doesn't hesitate to leave his bike beside the garage and jog quickly to the door, backpack heavy on his shoulder. He knocks loudly.
With the pounding in his ears, it's hard to hear what's going on in the house, but he can sense Stiles and Derek near the front door, talking quietly. When there's no answer he knocks a second time.
"Stiles!" he calls. "I'm sorry! Let me in! Please!?" He jumps back when the lock flips loudly and the door is yanked open. He stumbles inside surprised. Derek's there, and so is Stiles, and there's something strange going on between them. Derek pushes past him.
"See ya," he says to Stiles, hoping down the stairs. Scott watches him go then looks back to Stiles, eyes raking across his best friend looking for signs of distress or anger.
"You ok, man?" he asks. But Stiles doesn't answer, he's watching Derek walking off down the street toward where Scott knows his car is parked. Slowly Stiles nods.
"Yeah. I think I'm ok," he says, but Scott knows him. There's something off, something contemplative about him. He changes the topic.
"So, video games or monster movies? I brought over like everything I had," he offers, smiling apologetically. He watches Stiles face shift into mild amusement, but his eyes are still sad. Stiles shuts and locks the door.
"Why don't we start with video games? And save monster movies for the second half of our evening?" he suggests and Scott knows that he's already on his way to being forgiven for being an idiot. Scott nods, blinking in surprise. He doesn't deserve a friend like Stiles. Not at all.
"Good plan. You want pepperoni or sausage on the pizza?" he asks. He knows Stiles will understand this question. But it feels like a test. Like Stiles' answer will mean he's either forgiven for real or still in the proverbial werewolf house.
"It's your turn to pick." He smirks then, waiting for Scott's reply.
"Fine then. I'm in the mood for pepperoni," Scott concedes, grinning a little sheepishly, apologetically.
"You've finally seen reason then? I knew this day would come. Pepperoni prevails!" Stiles cheers as he pushes past him, shoving Scott into the hallway wall in such a familiar way that Scott knows he's forgiven. Really fully forgiven.
When they reach the living room, where an episode of Classic Trek is paused on the screen, and the couch reeks of Derek, Scott turns to watch Stiles again. With Stiles you can't judge his mood purely on his words. He deflects, changes the subject, derails discussions that lead toward uncomfortable territory. Scott has learned to watch the slump of his shoulders, the twitch of his hands, the tilt of his head for clues. So he watches Stiles now, as he grabs up Scott's backpack and starts to dig through it. He watches him take deep breaths, eyes avoiding the TV, and digging a little bit too fast through the game cartridges.
"Stiles?" he says, sitting down and getting a nose full of Derek. Man, he must have been there a while. "I really am sorry." He says. He watches Stiles hands freeze, and he tilts his head up, brown eyes searching Scott's face for something. His lips quirk up a little at the corners.
"I know. You can make it up to me with pizza. Which you're paying for. And I get to pick the first game," he announces returning to doing just that. Scott pulls his cell from his pocket, shooting off a text to his mother and then scrolling through his contact list for Tony's. He presses send, and puts the phone to his ear, watching Stiles get up to flick off the DVD player and switch on the PS3. While he waits for the pizzeria to answer the phone Scott decides how to address the fact that Derek was here. He knows something is going on there, but he doesn't know what. Not yet. So he chooses his words carefully. "I.." he pauses and Stiles looks at him from where he's detangling remote controller cords. "I'm glad Derek was here." That, Scott decides, is fairly neutral. Something sparks across Stiles face, but it's gone in a fraction of a second.
"He didn't want me to be alone," Stiles says, tossing him one of the controllers, and flinging himself down on the couch, eyes focused too intently on the TV screen. Scott studies his profile and nods.
"Neither did I. That's why I'm glad he was here," he explains. Stiles eyes him carefully. But Scott's attention turns to his cellphone again. "Yeah, I need to order an extra-large pizza for delivery. Pepperoni and extra cheese. Oh and an order of those cinnamon sugar stick things?" he says, giving out Stiles address as easily as he could his own. When he gets off the phone he turns back to Stiles, to find Stiles eyes are still on him, still watching. Scott raises an eyebrow in question but Stiles doesn't say anything. He just rolls his head back to face the TV, and simultaneously slumps to lean more to the side, his shoulder falling to press firmly into Scott's. Scott shifts, pressing back, gathering up the controller and eyeing the TV. "So… what game did you pick?" he asks.
Scott never makes an excuse to Stiles about how or why he'd forgotten, why it had taken so long to get over. No excuse would ever suffice, and Stiles had forgiven him pretty quickly. Stiles knows him, knows Scott is sorry, and he had come. Better late than never. In the end that's all that matters. That and that Scott never ever forgets again.
Even a few years later, when Stiles if off at college, a Freshman far from home, Scott won't forget. Stiles will have resolved to spend the day alone, holed up in his room eating Easy Mac and pretending to study for his finals, and Scott will be there. Stiles will hear a knock on his door, and get out of bed to answer it only to find Scott standing on the other side, an overnight bag slung over his shoulder and a couple of pizza boxes balanced carefully in one hand.
"Video games or Monster movies first? Your pick," he'll say, pushing past Stiles' to flop onto his unmade bed. The scent of Derek wafting up from the covers will be familiar and no longer disturbing, so this time Scott will take a deep breath, raise an enquiring eyebrow and smirk as he waits for Stiles to answer.
Stiles will close the door, a smile spreading across his tired face, his shoulder straightening and one hand coming up to scrub at the back of his head.
"Video Games, of course," he'll say diving for the top pizza box. Nothing more will need to be said. Because even after Stiles and Derek happens, even after graduation and college, countless pack emergencies, and the epic rollercoaster ride that is Scott and Allison's on again off again on again relationship, Stiles will still be Scott's best friend. And vice versa. And really that's all that matters.