A/N: Thanks to orionastro and ScarletBrokenArrow for reviewing the last chapter!
"It's my treat."
What Scott hated most about being a werewolf was that it made him grow up too fast. He was only 18, after all—he should be playing lacrosse, finding a date for prom, buying a car, stressing about college.
Not running for his life through the woods, bleeding from numerous cuts and scratches all over his body, courtesy of the rival pack that had just showed up in Beacon Hills.
They were all grown up before their time, Scott realized later, when it was all over. He was sitting next to Stiles, in the jeep, taking the time to breathe before they had to go home.
Stiles glanced at Scott, biting on his bottom lip. They had been lucky this time, but it still hadn't been easy, and Scott was exhausted and worn down. "Hey," Stiles said after a moment of silence, "Let's go get ice cream."
Scott looked over at his best friend with a blink. "What?"
Stiles just smiled. "Ice cream. My treat."
Scott found himself smiling back, and he nodded, thanking whoever was responsible for giving him a friend who could help him stay young.