Things have been - different, understandably, since Stiles turned. A part of Scott is really pissed about it, because he never would've wanted Stiles to be affected the way he has, to have his life literally turned upside down by the bite. The other part is grateful, almost selfishly, because now his best friends understands everything that he'd been going through when it had first happened to him. Now he doesn't have to worry about hurting Stiles, either, because as it turns out, his best friend is an Alpha.

That in itself is a lot to take in, but Scott's trying to wrap his head around the whole thing. Tonight, though, he's pretty beat, and he's sleeping hard, chest rising and falling slowly with even breaths. Something manages to make him stir from dreaming, and when he rolls over, blinking with eyes half-open, he manages to make out a silhouette.

He jerks up in bed, scrambling back against the pillows, eyes suddenly wide and fully alert as he adjusts quickly to find the face in the shadows. "Stiles? What - what is it, what's wrong?" There must be an emergency of some kind. "It's the middle of the night."