Puppy in disguise.



TONIGHT WAS A PAINFUL REMINDER that there were people in the world capable of doing terrible things. Scott had almost been killed simply for being different, despite the fact that his heart was still just as pure as it had always been. He'd never harm anyone, yet people wanted to hurt him.

Even his own girlfriends mother, we'd come to discover.

She'd attempted to kill him with a rare wolfsbane, set the whole thing up to look like he'd suffered a fatal asthma attack, a move that seemed so brutally cold and calculated.

Luckily, Derek had gotten to him just in time.

The sigh that leaves my mouth is shaky, prolonged, as I fold my arms across my chest and tuck my hands in tight in an attempt to get them to stop trembling. The events of the night had left me somewhat shaken, my brain still trying to catch up with so much of what had transpired.

The bell above rings as I enter the animal clinic, and my feet move slowly through the reception, towards the back room where I know Scott is being treated by Deaton. As I round the corner, I lean again the door frame and at first all I can focus on is my best friend, still and silent as he lays asleep on the table.

"Is— is he going to be okay?" When I ask the question, I look up, my eyes first meeting those of the veterinarian, then they move towards the somewhat now familiar gaze of no other than Derek Hale. He sits at the back of the room, and he looks so defeated.

"Yes. Yes, he's going to be just fine. He just needs some rest." Deaton assures me, giving Scott a gentle pat to the shoulder which causes him to stir for a moment, before he drifts back off into a much needed slumber.

I nod slowly in response and walk further into the room, daring to set my hands free as I reach out and take one of Scott's. I'm grateful that his touch is still warm. He's alive and he's safe and that's all that truly matters right now.

"I'll give you a few minutes," Deaton tells me, and the soft, half-smile that he ushers my way provides me with some much needed reassurance.

"Thank you," Derek offers him gratitude for the help he's provided not only to Scott, but himself, before he exits.

I hold onto Scott's hand for a few seconds longer before giving it a gentle squeeze, setting it down by his side. I know he's in the best place possible, and that in a few hours his body will probably feel like none of this ever even happened to him. But still, he would never be able to forget.

I'm hesitant as I make my way around to where Derek is sat, trying to think of the right thing to say as I sit down beside him on the small bench. I get the feeling he's trying his best not to look at me, but instead look directly ahead.

He's mad at me — or at least that's how it feels.

"I—" I pause, glance down towards my hands in my lap that can't seem to stay still no matter how hard I try. "I-I'm sorry if it got in your way tonight, I— I didn't mean to. I just... I heard gunshots and I though my friends might have been in danger. And then I froze..."

The memory flashes in my mind and I close my eyes tightly. "I froze because I was scared, and because I have no idea how to handle any of this. I didn't meant to put you, or Boyd, in any more danger than you were already in."

He's quiet, deep in thought I presume or just completely uninterested in anything I have to say now. Just as I'm about to nod in acceptance, I'm taken by complete surprise when I feel a comforting hand grab hold of both mine, immediately putting a stop to my persistent fidgeting.

"Don't worry about it," he begins, and my eyes slowly flutter open. But I don't look at him— not yet. "You did what your gut told you to do, and the fact that you walked towards gunfire because you were worried about your friend says a lot about who you are as a person."

"What, that I'm an idiot with a death wish?" I retort with mild self-deprecating humour, though there's a hint of truth to the idiot part. Because truthfully, it's what I felt like.

He huffs out a laugh, and as I dare glance towards him he shakes his head and releases his grip on my hands that now long to feel his touch again. "Well, there's that, but also that you'd do anything for the people that you care about. I'd say they're pretty lucky to have you."

My own laugh sounds bitter as it echoes around the otherwise silent room. "I'm not so sure about that."

"I am," he says quickly, and when I cast my gaze towards him I can tell he hadn't expected the words to come out, but he maintains eye contact, and my breath hitches in my throat. His eyes, the clearest green I've ever seen, possess a softness he often seems to hide with a tough exterior.

Was the grumpy wolf really just a puppy in disguise?

I breathe out slowly, lips now curling into a small smile. I'm nervous— in a good way, but I try to conceal it. "Well, then he's lucky to have you too. If you hadn't—" My mind doesn't even want to imagine what could have happened tonight if things had taken a different turn. "If you hadn't been there, we wouldn't have known he was in danger and he'd be dead right now."

"I just did what he'd do for me."

I quickly realize that, despite them butting heads often, Scott and Derek are bonded in an unbreakable way. Even if it seems like Derek is sometimes against him, in actual fact I think he's just trying to protect Scott.

"Cassia..."

I look up, Deaton's voice grabbing my attention away from Derek. The elder male stands in the doorway, watching us.

"You should call your grandmother, see if she can come pick you up. You both should get going, get some rest. Scott will be safe here with me."

I stand to my feet and shake my head. "No. No, I don't want to worry her. I can walk, it's only— wait, how do you know I live with my grandmother?" My features crease in confusion, though it starts to make sense. He'd looked at me earlier like he knew me from somewhere, and now it was clear. "You know my grandmother? Let me guess ... an old friend? Seems to be pretty common around here."

I glance back at Derek, concern growing more and more. Just how deeply involved in this was she? They share a small glance at one another and laugh, Deaton now taking a step closer.

"You're grandmother has lived in this town her entire life, she knows a lot of people. And besides, you look almost identical to your mother when she was your age."  He informs and I shudder, the realization that at my age, my mother would have been holding me in her arms, while I just short of two years old.

"Minus the toddler," I chime in, motioning towards myself.

I couldn't imagine it. I was a few weeks away from turning eighteen, and the last thing on my mind was having a child. One day, sure, but not now. Maybe that's why my parents lives seemed to go so downhill so quickly— because they had me.

"I can walk, seriously. It's ten minutes away, fifteen tops." It was late and my grandma was probably under the illusion that I was still having fun at the rave, the ugly truth could wait until tomorrow.

"I don't know that I'm so comfortable with you walking home alone, not after everything that's happened." Deaton persists, and I'm about to give in and agree with him, when Derek stands up.

"I'll walk her."

"Is that safe for you?" Deaton questions him, seemingly as taken a back as I am.

"They won't be looking for me tonight. They'll need time to regroup and recharge. I'll make sure she gets home, you make sure he heals." The werewolf motions towards Scott, and suddenly I don't want to go at all. But I know I have to.

Scott's in the best possible hands, and there's nothing I can do for him until he wakes up.

——————————

We walk towards my house in silence for the most part, and surprisingly it's not that uncomfortable. I'm starting to feel like neither of us will break it, when he does.

"So your parents were pretty young when they had you?" He asks, keeping a small distance between us the entire time, though he's close enough that he could reach out and grab me if something was to go wrong.

I let out a long breath, eyes wide. It's never a topic I like to discuss; I'd always done pretty well at pretending my childhood trauma didn't exist.

"Uh, yeah. My mom got pregnant at fifteen, had me at sixteen and the rest is history." The way I say it it sounds like a blast, but it'd been far from it. The only time I'd ever really felt wanted was when I was with my grandmother.

"What was that like— growing up with young parents?" It's a question I wish he never asked, but I don't see the point in lying.

"Honest answer? Pretty shit." I laugh, genuinely, despite no part of it being funny. It was better than crying, though. "My mom couldn't really cope, but she didn't want to admit that, so... she got drunk. A lot. And my dad was never really home. I missed a lot of school, ended up being held back, which I'm glad of in a way because it meant being friends with Scott and Stiles, but I'll also be almost twenty by the time I graduate and that just seems so... pathetic."

"It's better than not graduating at all though, right?" He makes a fair point.

I nod slowly and glance over at him, and the look on his face irks me to my very core. It sympathy. And I wonder how he can feel sorry for me, when he's been through so much worse.

I glare, shake my head.

"No! No don't give me that look, I hate that look!" I warn playfully, stopping for a brief moment. The smile on my face grows as his does too.

His brows furrow in confusion, a laugh following as he takes a step forward. "What look?"

"Like you feel sorry for me. Seriously, don't. I have it great compared to some people. And my grandma is amazing! I'm beyond lucky." I mean everything I say. I may not have had the easiest upbringing, but I always knew I was loved. I only wish I'd been able to move in with my grandmother a lot sooner. It would have saved a lot of additional pain.

She'd tried, of course, but she'd never been taken that seriously. And when my parents moved me away, it only made it harder for her. My parents divorce had been my saving grace; they stopped caring about appearing as a happy family.

I almost don't want to ask about his life growing up, knowing what I know about his family and their deaths. But it seems rude not to, and part of me is curious. "What was your life like growing up?"

A silence falls once again, a sadness appearing in his eyes that aches my heart. But a moment later a fond smile appears, and suddenly we're waking again.

"It was great. Big extended family, two sisters, loving parents." It's all that he gives, but I take it and cling to it.

"Do you miss them?" The question comes out before I can even stop it, and I curse myself a second later. "Sorry— that's not— I shouldn't have asked that, of course you miss them."

"It's okay," he assures me, but I still feel awful, and now it's me that wears a sympathetic gaze, though he actually does deserve it. I couldn't begin to imagine what it was like for him, living while most of his family were dead. "I miss them everyday. But there's nothing I can do to bring them back."

If only there was, how different he might be.

"Well, I'll leave you here," he says, "it looks like your grandmas been waiting up for you."

He motions toward the house with a smile on his face, and I notice that the living room light is still on. For a moment I'm certain I can see the curtains part in the middle, but I try to tell myself my grandma isn't spying on me even though she most definitely is.

"Yeah, looks like it. Goodnight, Derek." I breathe the words out, both grateful to be home and disappointed to be parting ways just as it seemed like we were getting somewhere.

He bows his head with a tight-lipped smile. "Goodnight."

When he turns to leave, that's when my gut forces me to stop him. "Derek, hang on a second."

Confused, he turns back around, and as he does I let my feet take me forward before my brain tells them to stop. I reach out, arms wrapping around his waist as I pull him in for a hug. I feel his body tense completely, but I don't let go. I'm surprised when, after what feels like forever of uncertainty, he slowly begins to relax.

Long arms wrap around me, thumbs gently caressing my back as he returns the hug. I smile and enjoy the embrace for as long as I can without it getting awkward or just plain creepy.

I step back and lower my arms, amused at the way he blinks in confusion. Derek Hale looks like he can't remember the last time he was hugged, and for someone who always seems so sure of himself, he suddenly looks lost.

"What was that for?" He questions, his tone a low whisper.

My smile grows into a full-blown grin as I turn on my heels and call out to him as I make my way to the front door. "For saving Scott's life."

I open the door and step inside, my back resting against it the moment it's closed over. Teeth softly bite down on my lower lip, and I'm stung by a giddiness I've never quite known before.

"Uh-oh," I hear the teasing in my grandmothers voice, and try to quickly collect myself as she comes into view. With a hand on her hip, she gives me a knowing look. "Someone's got it bad."

I scoff, roll my eyes. Denial seems to be a common practise of mine now, despite the truth being glaringly obvious. "I do not! It was just— it's friendly, okay? You wanted me to be friends with him, remember? Well... I'm trying."

"Well, whatever it is, I want you to be careful. He is still a werewolf after all. They come with all kinds of trouble, even the good ones." It's a gentle warning, I can tell. She's in no way implying that Derek is a bad person, just that it's complicated. Tonight had made that blatantly obvious.

"Trust me, I'm aware of that." I walk towards her and sigh, the high soon wearing off when I remember the way the night had started out. "You'll never believe what happened tonight."

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