like a gutter rat

[molt]

WARMER THAN ANYTHING ELSE, teen wolf, mccalls gen. set in some nebulous time after the beginning of episode seven and the latest episode. idk, it felt like a good time to break my own heart even further. title from linda linda by the blue hearts, because i've been listening to it a lot and i couldn't just call it TEEN WOLF!!!! (saving that for my next teen wolf fic). on lj | ao3

Melissa gets home at four, and finds Scott passed out on the couch. She thinks he’s asleep, anyway, until he sits up abruptly when she gets close enough to reach for the blanket stuck just beneath his stomach.

She only jumps back about a meter and presses a hand against her chest—her heart sounds like it could easily beat out of it. "Scott."

He blinks once, twice, and shakes his hair out of his eyes. It’s not as long as it was last year but she still thinks, wildly, that they need to find time to cut it. She hasn’t done that since Scott was twelve and mad enough about his father leaving that he wouldn’t let her anywhere near his hair, out of what she suspects was some misplaced hatred for his father’s habit of monthly haircuts.

He smiles at her, a little sleep rumpled, says, “Mom, hey,” and she remembers she’s supposed to be angry with him, furious, because he kidnapped one of his classmates and kept him in a police van for hours, for some sort of prank.

Melissa’s so tired, though, of fixing other people up, and not knowing how to do the same for herself and Scott. She doesn’t know where to find the energy to be furious at Scott. Especially when, looking at him up close for more than the five minutes they get before they both take off for work and school, he looks about as tired as she feels. That is probably not good for someone his age, Melissa thinks with an passive kind of alarm, which is about all that she can muster after a night shift. She feels guilt settle like an old friend, and then she has the kind of idea she knows she should think through, but—

“Do you want to go on a trip?”

Scott’s mouth drops open, and he sits up straighter. Melissa nods to herself. “Let’s go on a trip, Scott.”

“Mom, we don’t—,” Scott clears his throat, “we don’t really have the money for that, do we?”

It’s true. They don’t. Scott sounds tentatively hopeful about it, too, like maybe Melissa has some extra cash hidden somewhere and they can just pack up some stuff and take off. They’re okay, because Melissa has made sure they’re always okay, and Scott’s job helps, but that’s about it.

Melissa lets her bag drop next to the couch and sits down after Scott slides over—she pushes his legs aside, and takes the blanket out before he ends up dragging it with him.

“No,” Melissa sighs.“I guess we don’t, huh?”

“Mom,” Scott says, and he’s smiling at her, touched, and a little regretful too, like he knows the trip would be good for them. No empty promises, she thinks. She made that deal with herself when Scott’s dad left. She's taken a lot of extra shifts these last few months—Beacon Hills has a surprising number of emergencies for such a small town—and there's a few things on their monthly budget they can do without.

“Maybe if we save up a little,” Melissa says. “Give up pizza night. And that ice cream I like.”

“Mom,” Scott says again, widening his eyes emphatically. He’s always reminding her to do things for herself, and Melissa said okay to the ice cream, but she’s the adult here, and this might sound like an argument out of a sitcom, but it’s important.

“I’m serious,” Melissa says quietly.

“Yeah, I know,” Scott says. He huffs a laugh, and covers his face with his hand. “I don’t think now’s a good time for me, anyway? So maybe it’ll be better if we save up and do it later.”

“Are midterms coming up already?” Melissa says, sitting up so she can see the calendar in the hallway.

“No, it’s—,” That weird urgency she’d caught from Scott when they’d been grappling for the car keys is back in his eyes again. He puts a hand on her arm and gently pushes her back down. “Don’t worry about it.”

Melissa gives him an incredulous look. “Scott.”

Scott looks down at his hands, a little guiltily. With his head bowed, he looks so much older than he is, like there’s a whole world of things he knows that he can’t share.

“Scott,” Melissa says, and stops. She takes one his hands in hers and just holds it there.

“I want to tell you,” Scott says suddenly. “And, um, actually, I feel like I will soon anyway. But I don’t think I can right now.”

Melissa keeps looking at him.

“But I will,” Scott says. “I’ll tell you. It’s, I don’t know, you’re gonna think it’s really messed up, or maybe you won’t even believe me, but I’m gonna tell you. Just, right now isn’t good.”

Melissa closes her eyes. “Just not right now, huh?”

“Mom,” Scott says. “I hate this too, okay? But I can’t.”

Scott has never been a perfect son in the sense of bringing back straight A’s, or even in the sense of staying out of trouble—she’s never asked him for amazing marks, and his best friend is Stiles, for God’s sake, but he has always, always tried to be honest with her, and that counts for a lot, more than she can probably explain.

“I do trust you, you know,” Melissa says. She opens her eyes again and Scott is still sitting there, staring at her like he really does want to blurt everything out. “But I’m your mom, Scott. And the kind of stuff that’s been happening—you get why I worry, right? You get why I want to know what’s going on?”

“Yeah, mom,” Scott mumbles.

“But if,” Melissa says, and Scott perks up like he already knows where she’s going with this. “If you say you’re going to tell me eventually, I believe you.”

Scott throws himself at her for a quick hug, and he’s outright grinning when he pulls back. “Thank you, thank you, thank you. You’re the best, Mom. Like on the entire planet, I swear.”

Melissa stares him down until the grin softens, and then she rolls her eyes and gently yanks on one of his ears.

“We are going to take that trip,” Melissa says. “And if you don’t tell me then, I’ll get really mad.”

“I promise,” Scott says, nodding fervently. Then, with some hesitation, “I’m gonna see if I can get extra shifts too, okay?”

“Alright,” Melissa says, after a beat. She gets the feeling that even if she says no, Scott will try it anyway, and she has the urge to give him a noisy, gross kiss on the forehead, the kind that makes him bat her hands away while he screeches stop it in sheer embarrassment, but that’s not really a new feeling for her. “You want pancakes? I don’t think I’m gonna be able to sleep.”

“It’s cool, let me,” Scott says, standing up. He grabs the blanket from her lap and puts it around her shoulders. “Mine always turn out fluffier anyway.”

“Excuse you,” Melissa says. “Who taught you how to make pancakes?”

Scott laughs, and lifts an eyebrow at her. Melissa gets up and follows him into the kitchen. She holds the blanket tighter, pressed against her heart.