( so sorry this is so shit and took so long but here you go anyway)

Scott had known Stiles since they were four. They had met at kindergarten when Stiles had threatened to arrest another kid for pulling Lydia Martins hair.

"My Daddy's a policeman and he'll put you in jail!" Lydia had the situation handled herself, already having pushed the kid away and stomped off to tell the teacher, but Stiles had insisted that she was a princess and it was high treason to hurt the royal highness.

Scott had been amazed, having watched the whole thing from the reading corner, and went up to this strange, loud kid.

"Your Daddy's a policeman?"

Stiles had turned and smiled, his chest puffed and shoulders back with pride.

"Yep! He's the best too. He saves people and kills bad guys like a superhero."

Scott smiled back, his brown eyes sparkling in excitement.

"Wow! My Mommy saves people too. She works in the hobspital."

From that day on the two had been inseparable, always causing trouble and more than a few headaches for their parents and teachers. Stiles had been his brother for fourteen years. His best friend, his pack mate, and Scott McCalls heart was full of him. Stiles was such a huge part of Scott and when he had died he felt as if his chest had been cracked in two, his heart ripped in half when his brother left him.

A howl had ripped from his throat, deep and agonizing. There was nothing that came close to the pain of losing someone that close to you.

But then his heart had started beating again.

Sitting in the chair beside his brother's bed now, Scott held the boys twitching hand and smiled. Stiles was okay, had even woken up for a few minutes that morning. He was okay. They all would be.

Scott knew that his pack would always be the center of the never ending shit show this town drew in, but he knew, without a doubt, that as long as Stiles and the rest of his pack were with him, they would be okay.

The past two days had been an exhausting 48 hours, with Stiles in surgery to remove the glass and re-inflate and patch up his lung, and then waiting for him to wake up. The scent of the humans' blood had been everywhere and Scott had thrown up twice in the shower before he managed to scrub it off his skin and replace it with the scent of his mother's shampoo.

The Sheriff and the banshee had to be forced to get any sleep or food, Scott literally carrying Lydia to a bed so that she could get some proper sleep. He still didn't know how he would go back into his house where Stiles' blood soaked the carpet and a few towel's, without throwing up or becoming a crying mess. The Sheriff offered to pay for everything but Melissa had only shushed him and pressed a sandwich into the mans hands.

Scott looked to the boy in the bed now, trying to keep his breathing calm as he took him in. His skin was pinker than it had been, thanks to the blood that had been given to replace what he'd lost, but he was still pale. A nasal cannula ran under the boys nose to make breathing a little easier while his lungs healed, and wires and tubes snaked all over, taped down and hooked up to machines.

Scott hated to see his best friend so vulnerable in that white bed and so closing his eyes, the Alpha raised his pack mates hand to his nose. Stiles' scent filled his nose, replacing the antiseptic smell of the hospital, and when he concentrated he could hear the determined, pounding beat of Stiles' heart. Scott could listen to that heartbeat for hours, the rhythmic pulsing beats calming him in a way that calmed him and the wolf inside. The pulse was proof that Stiles had won the ultimate battle. He had fought death and won. Scott just hoped he had gotten to see his mother before he came back. Stiles deserved to be able to talk to his mom. In fact he deserved so much more, more than Scott could give.

Scott still had Stiles' hand in his, nose pressed to the back of the humans' hand, when those long pale fingers curled. Eyes whirling open, the alpha looked to his friends face and saw those bright brown eyes that he had first seen when he was four, and had known, as if they were his own, ever since.

"Stiles." The name came as a sigh of relief. He's awake.

"Hey buddy. Whatcha doin there?"

Scott squeezed his pack mates hand and rubbed his nose against it, unashamed even as Stiles smiled cheekily.

"Holding my brothers hand. I could get drunk off your scent man, you have no idea how happy I am that you smell like you and not like blood and death anymore."

Stiles breathed out a laugh, careful not to breathe too deeply and hurt anything.

"That's got to be the gayest thing you've ever said to me. I'll still love ya even if you are gay but I got tell you Scott I think I've finally got the Lydia thing locked down."

Scott laughed and smiled knowingly.

"It's not gay if we're brothers. And I know, I heard her say she loved you."

Scott's smile faded a little, his eyes growing serious as he looked down at their clasped hands.

"You died Stiles…."

Stiles squeezed Scott's hand till he looked up, smiling in reassurance.

"You guys saved me. I'm okay now Scott, I'm not going anywhere I promise."

Scott nodded and returned his nose to Stiles' hand.

"You know," Stiles said gently. "If you keep smelling my hand like that you're going to get dizzy from the meds in my blood."

Scott let out a small smile.

"I can't get drunk anymore so maybe this is like a cheat."

Stiles rubbed his hand against his alpha's nose with a chuckle.

"Well by all means then, go ahead. I don't think I've ever been graced with Drunk Scott. It might be fun. You know, before your mum and my dad kick both our asses for getting you high in a hospital."

Scott made a show of dragging in a huge sniff, making Stiles laugh so hard his monitors started beeping irritably. Scott had his brother. He had everything.