It's been a bad day. A day of arguing with his dad, and feeling like the alpha pack is sniffing at their heels. And it takes a lot to affect a werewolf, but he knows how now. Werewolf drunk, he tells Scott. Well, when he sees Scott which isn't much at all these days. Still.
He's got his phone out, Maggie's number pulled up. He wants to call, but he shouldn't. If he does he'll just end up blurting it all out.
"I dunno what you see in me sometimes. You're beautiful and smart and terrifying and I'm just... me. Sometimes I think Derek used up the best of me and I'm worried you're gonna see that. And you're gonna leave. You deserve someone who could protect you. Someone with a pack. How can I protect you? But god, don't leave me. Please? Okay? Fuck. What would I do without you?"
He tells her contact photo these things, instead of calling. It's better that way.
"Oh my god," he mutters, rubs a hand over his face. "You're beautiful. Like unrealistically, how do you exists, beautiful. I can't deal sometimes. You're like... just... yeah... wow." This is better, thinking about Maggie's surreal beauty is better than thinking about all the ways he doesn't deserve her. "I wanna touch you right now."
He considers calling her for real now. So he does. When she hears his voice he starts to laugh, low and breathless.
"Babe, m'totally booty calling you, wanna come over?"
