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Don't Piss Me Off

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Five years have passed when Derek rolls into Beacon Hills with a slowly regenerating stump leg and a scowl that says he’s seen things.

His first stop is the Stilinski house, but the house has undergone so much improvement, he doubts at first that he has the right house. He stands outside for three minutes and hears a woman nagging her kids to clean their rooms before he determines that this is no longer Stiles’ house.

Scott is his next stop–he’ll know where Stiles is. The good news is that Scott leads him right to Stiles, and when he walks into the new veterinary practice, Stiles is there. He looks as good as Derek remembers, though the fierce glare he shoots Derek on seeing him gives him pause.

“Scott!” he calls, slipping from behind the counter and rapping his knuckles on the door to the only checkup room. “Yo, Scott! We’ve got company!”

“Stiles,” Derek says, moving closer, can only think to say, “I’m here for you.”

“That’s creepy as fuck, Derek,” Stiles shoots back immediately.

Derek doesn’t get to respond, though, because Scott comes out, wiping his hands on a towel. He looks a lot older, more refined than he did as a teen.

Scott eyes him up and down without expression, then sighs and says, “Come on. I’ll fix your leg. It’s going to cost you, though.”

Derek moves to go to Stiles, but is thwarted by Scott intercepting him with a firm grip on his arm that says he means business. Stiles moves behind the front desk again, standing over his padded chair with doe-eyes that flit between Derek and Scott anxiously.

Derek decides to salvage his pride and go with Scott. Only having one functional leg is actually less than ideal, and won’t help him win Stiles back. He’s also no longer an alpha, and it looks like Scott could do some serious damage if he wanted to–and he looks like he kind of wants to.

When the door is shut behind them, Scott manhandles him up onto the examination table, then starts rooting around in some cupboards for supplies.

He doesn’t give Derek drugs to help with the pain, just cuts away the infected tissue and starts bandaging him up.

“Where the hell have you been, Derek?” Scott asks, not looking up from his task.

“Afghanistan,” Derek grunts out, not willing to explain beyond that. He notices a flash of light near his leg. “You married, McCall?”

“Yeah,” Scott says. “Two years. Couldn’t be happier.”

He doesn’t sound very happy at the moment, though, face set in a scowl, like Derek is the last person he wants to see. Derek can appreciate that–Scott’s always been too close to Stiles for his own good, is too emotionally attached to what Stiles thinks and feels.

Derek grunts.

“Who to?”

Scott looks up at him then, disbelief on his face that turns into barely bridled anger. He doesn’t reply, just reaches out with a bloody hand to snag and pin one of his business cards to Derek’s chest before he goes back to work, tugging and wrapping probably more viciously than he needs to.

The card says, “Scott Stilinski-McCall, Stilinski-McCall Veterinary Practice”.

“What kind of joke is this?” Derek snorts. They can’t be serious.

Scott pins the end of his bandage in place and steps back, radiating cold fury.

“Get out of town, Derek. If you aren’t gone by midnight, I’ll escort you out personally.” he flashes his eyes to make sure that the threat isn’t lost on him.

“This is Hale territory,” Derek growls back. “You can’t evict me!”

Scott smiles cruelly, not a hint of compassion in his eyes.

“What you did to Stiles when you left–what you did to all of us… that I can’t forgive. Besides, I’m the Alpha now.” He growls the last bit, makes sure to put an alpha’s command in it to get the point across. A shiver goes down Derek’s back and he has the urge to slouch and avert his gaze in submission. The hair on the back of his neck is standing at attention.

He can feel Scott’s eyes on him as he exits the room, can’t fathom looking at Stiles on the way out, properly cowed.