Gift for lolawritesaboutfandoms in Sterek Secret Santa Gift Exchange.
Inspired by something my professor told us at the lecture.
Stiles was so worried, he couldn't even appreciate a ride in the camaro right now. Derek was going well over the limit and Stiles was sorely tempted to tell him to go even faster, but the Alpha was so tense, that the teenager was afraid he'll snap and kill them both. Instead Stiles focused on his phone in case someone tried to contact him again.
Just a few minutes ago he and Derek were at the loft making plans for the next pack training when Stiles got a call from Isaac.
"You need to," Isaac wheezed through the phone with an almighty effort, "get to Deaton."
He didn't say anything more. There were just some more gasps and then the line went dead.
So now they were on their way, incredibly worried and preparing for the worst.
Soon they turned into parking lot of the animal clinic and Stiles jumped out of the car before Derek even stopped the camaro completely.
With the Alpha close on his heels, Stiles hurriedly made his way inside.
In the waiting area sat Chris Argent with an arm in a sling and Isaac with tear stained cheeks. They both looked up in surprise as Stiles and Derek flew into the building in the state of near panic.
"What happened?!" Stiles demanded, while Derek growled at the hunter. "Where's Scott?"
"Oh my God," Isaac said quietly with wide eyes and started laughing. "Your faces!"
The new arrived duo stared at him in confusion.
"Scott is fine," Argent said helpfully, rubbing his shoulder with a wince.
At this point Isaac was literally rolling on the floor with laughter, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.
"Isaac, man," Scott complained, limping from Deaton's examination room with the vet following him. "For the last time, it's not that fu-" he stopped, noticing the Alpha and his best friend. "You called them?!" he groaned.
"Scott," Stiles said slowly, trying to make sense of the situation. "What's going on?"
"Yeah, Scott," Argent smirked. "Why don't you tell them what's going on?"
"It's nothing, really," the teen wolf hedged. "We're fine. Nothing to talk about."
"You almost broke the man's arm," Deaton pointed out. "That's not nothing."
"I didn't mean to!" Scott defended.
"What?" Stiles asked at the same time.
"What did you do?" Derek demanded with all the Alpha authority.
Scott ducked his head, kicking at the floor with his uninjured foot and mumbled something.
Derek let out a pained groan and facepalmed.
"Christ," he mumbled into his palm.
"What was that?" Stiles wanted to know.
"Scott wanted to play Superman," Isaac chimed in, keeping his laughter in check. "So he walked up to Mr. Argent, grabbed the barrel of his rifle and tried to bend it down."
"Jesus," Stiles joined Derek in his 'I'm surrounded by idiots' play.
"The barrel went down," Isaac continued. "Mr. Argent's arm went up and he pulled the trigger in surprise and shot Scott in the foot."
"It hurt!" Scott whined.
"Good, you won't do something so stupid again," Derek growled and stalked out.
Stiles nodded in agreement, turning to follow the Alpha.
"You can't believe everything you see on television, Scott," he threw over his shoulder.
"I'm going too," Chris Argent got up and looked at Isaac. "Can you drive me home in my car?"
"Sure," the werewolf agreed and followed the hunter out.
"Hey, guys, what about me?" asked Scott plaintively, limping slowly to the exit after them. "Guys?!"