"You sure?" Scott asked, his eyes crinkling in concern.

"Yeah, I'm sure," I said, rubbing the side of his hand with my thumb. "I mean, it can only get better from here. If it gets worse, I'll stop the counseling sessions and just suck it up. If they don't go away, I'm going to have to cope with them anyway."

Another regressive nightmare had occurred the night before after I had fallen asleep next to Scott; the exact same one I had experienced minutes beforehand, only this time when I had woken up panicking, it felt like someone was squeezing all of the air out of my lungs. I had flailed and wheezed, trying to get air into my lungs, but nothing worked. Scott had jumped out of the bed and went frantically looking for something, then returned with a small deformed L-shaped thing. An inhaler. He just said "deep breath" and I knew what he was doing, only after it happened. He had just tricked my brain into thinking I was having an asthma attack (well, actually, it would be my brain just thinking I was having breathing problems because I didn't have/wasn't using my air tank, since I had never in fact had an asthma attack before) to get me to breathe. After I had calmed down and was able to breathe - granted it was about three in the morning at the time - he had insisted that I could stay home if I wanted to (and by could I really mean should, but he didn't want to force me to make choices. But the fact that I could potentially have another "episode" when I was home alone and he wouldn't be here to help me through the panic attack that usually followed, he wasn't going to force me to stay home). I protested against he mild attempt to get me to stay home, deciding that school would be better than another nightmare. Maybe.

"Just remember that Ms. Morrell isn't the guidance counselor anymore," he said, rubbing my hand with his thumb like I had done to his. I nodded, remembering the story that Scott had told me about Ms. Morrell (who left Beacon Hills with Deucalion, due to the fact that she is the emissary for his pack), the Alpha Pack, and Jennifer/Julia; what a rollercoaster that tale had been (which had, in fact, taken place during my time before/during/after the bite and my whole experience as a young werewolf were all going on. I see now how everyone is almost completely oblivious to the werewolf in Beacon Hills now). I knew what he meant, of course, saying that 'Ms. Morrell isn't the counselor' was practically code for 'no werewolf business', which included the fact that I couldn't exactly say was having horrible nightmares and excess anxiety due to the fact that I had murdered my mother; I'd just have to say I'd been having nightmares since her death and not explain any further, really.

"As long as you remember to grab homework for me from the classes I'm going to miss," I said, a small smile making its way onto my lips. I looked at his face, squinting my eyes at him, before rubbing the side of his hand again in a comforting manner. "Hey, you're worrying, I can tell. Stop that. Don't worry. I'll be fine, it's just counseling."

"I'm not worried about the counseling, I'm worried about you. Are you sure you want to be here today? I still have time to take you home and make it back before school starts."

"Yes, I'm sure I want to be here. And you don't need to worry about me. Okay, actually, maybe sometimes you do. Just a little bit. But it's only nightmares, I'm fine when I'm awake. I'm good, I'm in the clear. If something happens or goes wrong, I'll tap out morse code for S.O.S on the chair."

"In that case, I'll keep an ear out," Scott said before pressing his lips to my forehead.

.

My counseling session (which had ended up being three and three-fourths class periods long) had ended with ten or so minutes left to spare before fourth period was officially over and my lunch period would begin. Seeing that ten minutes was not nearly enough time for me to be morally obligated to make an appearance in the class I should be in right now, I wandered to the library to loiter until I could eat food. I spent most of the ten minutes in the mythology section, leafing through books about lycanthropes. The bell rang, signalling the end of class, and I shoved the book that I was currently holding back into its spot on the bookshelf.

As I met Scott in the hallway, he put an arm around my waist and I literally groaned into his shoulder as he presented me with a stack of papers with his free hand. I took them from him, and he was smiling at me like my pain of excessive amounts of homework (okay, maybe I'm exaggerating a little bit, it was only like two double-sided worksheets and a thin packet) was causing him joy.

My other classes went by rather quickly and I managed to get done with most of my missed work, with the exception of one of the double-sided papers - it was a question sheet for a book that I did not have, nor have ever read. I'd have to swipe one from the English room before I went home and skim the first chapter of Lord of the Flies.

.

"I'll meet you out there in five minutes, I just need to talk to the counselor for a second," I said before giving Scott a quick peck on the lips. "Being the completely forgetful girl I am, I forgot to ask when my next session was."

"Okay," he said smiling, "See you in five." He pecked my lips back and threw his backpack over his shoulder, walking towards the stairs that led down to the main floor of the school.

I finished shoving books from my backpack back into my locker, before closing it with the kick of my foot. I shouldered my backpack and went towards the stairs, but instead of going towards the front doors, I went deeper into the school. I was almost to the counseling office when the door opened and someone stepped out. He walked in my direction, and I recognized him. It was that one kid, the one who was a little creepy, what was his name? Mason. Mason was his name; the kid who had been my lab partner in Chemistry. He smirked as he walked by me, which I though was strange; incredibly, slightly creepy strange.

I ducked my head into the counseling room and was greeted by the counselor, Ms. Baker.

"Yes, Nat, what can I help you with?" Ms. Baker said, folding her hands together on the desk.

"I forgot to ask when my next session was. I'm an idiot, I'm honestly no surprised I forgot to ask."

.

I dropped my backpack near the door of my bedroom, kick the door shut lightly with my foot as I pulled my shirt over my head. I rummaged through my closet, looking for a comfortable shirt to put on; I ended up going with the navy blue shirt I had stolen from Scott. I stripped out of my jeans and pulled on a pair of black leggings that were probably actually yoga pants, but who could really tell them apart anymore. I was now essentially in my pajamas at this point. Who cared? I certainly didn't. I was about to run a brush through my hair when I remembered that I had left my brush in the bathroom, which Scott was currently occupying. Why he couldn't use the bathroom that was in his room, I don't know. I pulled my door open and walked the small distance down the hall to the bathroom, knocking on the door when I arrived at it.

"Scott, hurry your ass up or let me in," I said. Just as I had finished saying "in" the door swung open to reveal a goofily grinning Scott, who was in fact shirtless for absolutely no reason whatsoever. I couldn't even think of a situation to where he wouldn't normally be wearing a shirt, unless he had gotten something on it or was going to take a shower, both of which were highly unlikely.

"Yes?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

"I need my brush," I said, pointing at the counter behind him. "And don't you have your own bathroom?"

"Yes, I do in fact have my own bathroom," he said, but he didn't move. I tried to reach past him towards the counter where I could easily reach my brush, but he wrapped his arms loosely around my waist and spun on the tile floor, what could have only been the result of countless times of practicing because I was sure he was going to drop me or slip and fall on the floor. I was now hanging under him, and it was like a scene out of a movie, except for the fact that we were in a bathroom and Scott was shirtless. Okay, maybe the shirtless part did happen in movies, I don't know. I'm not big on chick-flicks, I'm more of a sci-fi and comedy kind of movie person - but that's beside the point. After staring down at me which seemed like minutes but could have only been seconds in reality, he either pulled me up towards him or lowered himself down to me - I couldn't tell which one had happened. I could tell, though, what he was about to do; smooches. Smooches were about to happen. There were a few more-than-minute-long kisses and some just-pecks-one-the-lips kisses (and to be honest I was surprised he hadn't dropped me accidentally or that we had ended up just laying on the floor) before I stopped him.

"If we're gonna make out anymore, at least let me brush my teeth before we continue," I said, grinning up at him. He nodded and pulled me upright, to which I quickly grabbed my toothbrush and toothpaste as soon as I was upright. I brushed my teeth as quickly as possible that would manage to get them as clean as possible in the shortest amount of time. As soon as I stepped foot outside the bathroom, Scott hoisted me up on onto his hips, pressing me against the wall lightly. I wrapped my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck. "Uh, quick question before we continue - why are you still shirtless? I mean, it's not a problem, go ahead and be shirtless if you want, but it's definitely a little distraction..." I trailed off, tilting my head slightly and glancing over his moderately muscular torso. Did becoming a werewolf automatically give you muscles? Or did you have to work out and play sports to get them? Because if it requires physical fitness, count me out. I'm good with living my couch potato lifestyle, thank you very much. I cleared my throat as quietly as possible and said, "so, yeah, the lack of shirtness." I could see him trying to supress a grin.

"That is definitely a question I don't have the answer to."

I just shrugged. If he didn't have an answer to why he was shirtless, I would probably never find one, so I left that conversation at that. We picked up where we had left of in the bathroom, eventually making it into my bedroom (after sliding along the wall, which had caused me to giggle because I could feel Scott dragging me against the wall) and to my bed (only after he almost dropped me because he tripped over a phone cord), which just ended up in the most intense make-out session I have had to date, only being interrupted when Melissa called us down for dinner several hours later.

A/N: I feel like all of the chapters end in smooches now. Is this a problem...? (Clearly not enough of a problem for me to stop.)

Also I don't have a good reason to why Scott is shirtless in the last scene; it just felt like it fit the mood? I have no idea.

Also the original title of this chapter was Scott "Smooth as Crunchy Peanut Butter" McCall, but that was too long so I had to settle.