Broken But Mending; Scott McCall [1] ✔

0.30 In Which She Is Date Ditched

Scott was used to Stiles' quirks. They'd been best friends for so long, Scott had been around for every one of Stiles' phases - his alien years, his dinosaur years... every obsession, Scott had been with him for them all. 

His most recent had been a Twilight phase. Stiles loved the idea of being a hunky werewolf like Jacob, or a hunky vampire like Edward. Scott had found it more easy to manage, honestly, because he still had all of the cosplay with him from Stiles' Buffy phase (Scott's personal favourite).

But Scott had been sure the Twilight bit was over. The posters were stashed away in a box beneath Stiles' bed, and the growing collection of DC merch had been pretty solid signs, so, really, Stiles had no excuse to just spring the Twilight stuff back on him.

He sighed to himself briefly, and ran his fingers through his hair. The shower pressure wasn't what it used to be, so his front was chilly, and his skin had a slight itch to it, like his mum had bought that one detergent that he was allergic to again. After the stress he was already going through - failing two classes, blowing a tyre on his bike - he didn't need anything else, least of all Stiles trying to badger him into some Jacob roleplay again.

Stiles had been completely convinced that Scott was somehow a werewolf, or something. His face been set into that one expression he always had when he was sure he was right, eyebrows pulled together, jaw clenched. There had been a bit of silence after the declaration, then Scott made a crack about having a dog fursona and he'd ignored Stiles on the way out. 

He tried not to think about it now. Yeah, there had been a wolf, and, yeah, the wolf had bitten him. And, okay, the wound had healed almost immediately after - but that meant nothing. He wasn't in a TV series - werewolves didn't exist.

Instead, as he washed the shampoo out of his hair (and, wow, he needed to get it cut soon), he thought about Ellie, and his date with her. She was so pretty, he could barely even get his words out around her. When he'd seen her hanging out with Lydia, he'd basically written off his crush forever; there was no way someone who was up close to the levels of good-looking that Lydia and Jackson had daily would ever settle for him. But then, like fate, she'd hit some poor dog and come crying into his love life (which maybe wasn't the best way for him to put it, admittedly).

When he left the bathroom, feeling a bit more confident in himself (not because he gave himself a pep-talk in the mirror, absolutely not), he almost collided with his mother. Melissa McCall, tired and stressed after week at work, with only more work to do that night, was still the most beautiful person he'd ever seen - inside and out. With everything his asshole of a dad had put her through, skipping town with barely any warning and dodging months of child support afterwards, he knew that she was the strongest person he had ever met, or would ever meet.

But he was a teenager, and he could hardly tell her that - then she'd try to hug him or something.

So, instead, he yelped a startled "Mum!", one hand flying to check his towel was wrapped securely around himself and the other reaching up to cover his nipples.

Her lips pulled into a little smirk. "So," she started, drawing out the word.

"So," he echoed.

"Is this a party," she said, eyeing the gel he'd already run through his hair. "Or a date?"

He shrank back against the wall, regretting all of his life choices in the face of embarrassment. "Uh, maybe both."

Melissa leaned forward eagerly, and he wilted further. "And her name is..?"

"Ellie," he answered, blushing. "And, uh, I'm supposed to be picking her up in like," he glanced at his bare wrist, "A half hour, so..." he edged around her.