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title: something good from something bad [ao3: here]

main pairing: Braeden / Melissa McCall

rating: t (for blood, non-graphic descriptions of wounds / stitches)

word count: ~2500

written for: Teen Wolf Femslash Week & Beacon Hills Women of Color Week

For the second time in as many weeks, the hospital was under attack. The first time had been nothing too surprising or, rather, it hadn't been anything supernatural. It'd just been a man, an escaped prisoner with a very large, very frightening gun, a mere human who had gone down like a rag doll when a security guard shot him in the chest. He exhaled nothing more harmless than carbon dioxide and when Melissa pressed a compress to the bullet wound just below his sternum, the blood that splashed across her fingers had been warm and red, not poisonous or cold like ice.

(But even though he’d been just a human, so human that his breath left him five minutes after he was shot, he still showed up in Melissa’s nightmares that night, crawling out from underneath her bed with blood stuck between the cracks of his teeth and a gun clenched between stiffened fingers.)

The second attack, on the other hand, was perpetrated by something that was the furthest thing from human.

Melissa didn’t even know what to call the creature that had exploded out of a corpse in the morgue only hours before. She knew that Scott and the pack were working on subduing it, but she’d only briefly gotten a glimpse of them as they bolted through the front door of the hospital. All she had to go on was what she’d glimpsed with her own eyes as she’d moved from door to door, locking the rooms of patients who were too weak or sick to be evacuated. She didn’t know how much good it would do, but it was something she had to do.

The only thing she knew with any clarity was that the creature was some kind of shapeshifter. One minute, it had been nothing more than a puff of murky gray smoke, drifting about five feet above the tiles; mere seconds later, when Melissa glanced back over her shoulder, it had sprouted a dozen appendages, all of which ended in razor sharp claws that glinted underneath the flickering lights. By the time Melissa locked the last room in the hallway, fingers and keys slick with sweat, the creature had changed again. Its head scraped the ceiling, long fingers brushed the floor and a horrible, low moaning sound emanated from its gaping black hole of a mouth. Although the sound made Melissa’s stomach churn, she didn’t freeze; she ran down the next hallway, yelling at panicked patients and staff to turn around and get out.

She skidded into the reception area just in time to see someone clad in a floor length robe step through the main door of the hospital. At first glance, she took them to be a nun or a priest; it wasn’t unusual for them to come by the hospital during a time of crisis. But before Melissa could tell them to leave, the person raised their head and began to step forward. While their face was still hidden beneath their hood, there was no hiding the massive, antique-looking revolver that the person was clutching in fingers too long to be human.

“Move!”

The words came just as somebody slammed into Melissa’s side, knocking her off her feet. She landed hard on her ribs behind the reception desk, but before she could attempt to regain her breath, the room exploded with a sound nearly as loud as a thunderclap. Melissa slammed her hands over her ears and dropped her forehead to the ground, eyes fixated on a speck of dirt staining the tiles.

While her ears continued to ring, the sound didn’t come again. Ribs aching, she slowly sat up, listening carefully. She caught the sound of quick, shuffling footsteps just as a woman lunged around the corner of the reception desk and dropped to her knees.

“Are you okay?” the woman asked quickly, glancing back over her shoulder. While Melissa had only seen Braeden a few times, there was no mistaking the stark white claw marks that ran down the length of her throat. Braeden had a shotgun strapped across her back and she was cradling the massive revolver in her hands. Up close, it looked almost cartoonishly large, but Melissa had seen enough to know that appearances were not an accurate gauge of threat level.

“I’m fine,” Melissa responded. “Thanks. I owe you one.”

“Well, that’s good,” Braeden replied, gasping slightly and stretching out her legs, “because I need you to stitch up this bullet wound.”

“What?” Melissa asked, a little louder than she intended. Thankfully, the lobby was still empty; most of the action seemed to be concentrated above them, based on the roars and banging she could hear. “You got shot?”

“Not for the first time,” Braeden said. Her small smirk quickly changed into a wince as she pressed her hand against the side of her thigh. When she lifted her fingers, they were dripping with blood. Melissa’s stomach dropped, but only momentarily; her heart rate slowed and even the throbbing in her ribs seemed to subside as she slid forward until her knees were bumping against Braeden’s. There was a box of latex gloves sitting on a low shelf beside them and Melissa automatically pulled some on, just barely registering another one of Scott’s roars somewhere above them.

“How bad does it hurt?” she asked, gently turning Braeden’s leg. The wound was still bleeding profusely, soaking into Braeden’s dark pants and making it difficult to gauge its severity.

“I’ve had worse,” Braeden replied.

“I don’t doubt it,” Melissa said, absently glancing at the scars across Braeden’s throat. There was a bottle of water on another shelf and Melissa used it to wash most of the blood away. Thankfully, the bullet had just grazed Braeden’s leg, but it had still made a deep furrow in the side of her thigh. It definitely required stitches, ideally in a quiet room where the lights weren’t flickering and they didn’t have to worry about supernatural creatures barging in and ripping them to shreds.

“Oh, thank God,” Melissa muttered, spotting a small first-aid kit underneath the reception computer. She yanked it down and opened it, hoping that it hadn’t already been rifled through during any of the other attacks the hospital had been subjected to. Thankfully, the important stuff was still in place and she immediately got down to work, using a tiny pair of shears to cut away the blood soaked fabric around the bullet wound.

“Damn,” Braeden said, leaning her head against a shelf, “I actually liked these pants.”

“I’m sure you like your leg more,” Melissa said quietly, leaning closer and brushing away a few errant drops of blood with her thumb.

“Well, you’re not wrong there,” Braeden replied, wincing slightly as Melissa ran an antiseptic wipe over the bullet wound. The edges were pink and raw but there was no sign of blood poisoning, which was definitely a blessing. The materials Melissa needed for stitching were at the bottom of the kit, along with a lighter. She wasn’t sure if it had come with the kit or if one of the nurses had been hiding it there, but either way, it was the closest thing she had to a proper sanitizing tool at the moment.

“What was that thing?” Melissa asked as she held the needle over the flickering flame of the lighter. “The thing that shot you. Was it human?”

“Not exactly.” Braeden’s eyes darted back and forth, like she was continuing to scan for threats. “It was human at one point, I think. It seems like it’s a guardian for the… for the whatever the hell that thing is that’s running around upstairs.”

“You don’t know what it is yet?”

“I don’t need to know what either of those things are,” Braeden snapped. “I just need to know how to kill them and so far, it seems like a shotgun blast to the face does the trick.” Melissa could only imagine the mess on the other side of the reception desk; she could already smell decay, mixed with something earthier. She took a deep breath through her mouth and threw the lighter to the side. Clean-up would have to wait. Her patient came first.

“Ready?” she asked, wiping the hot needle off with an alcohol wipe, just to be on the safe side.

“Just get it over with,” Braeden said, sounding almost wearied. “I don’t want to be caught with my pants down if another one of those guardians shows up.”

“Your pants are still on,” Melissa pointed out, pressing the tip of the needle against Braeden’s skin. Braeden shot her a glare and Melissa shrugged apologetically before beginning the process of stitching Braeden’s wound up. Neither of them spoke; normally, Melissa attempted to make people comfortable or distract them from the pain, but she had a feeling that Braeden would only resent being coddled. Occasionally, Braeden’s breathing hitched and her fingers tapped against the floor but otherwise, she was completely silent.

“And we’re done,” she said once she finished up, stripping her gloves off. “Normally, I’d tell you to take it easy, but there doesn’t seem to be much of a point.”

“You’re right about that,” Braeden said, sitting up straight and gently running her fingers over the skin on either side of the wound. “Thank you, Melissa.”

“What?” As far as Melissa could remember, on the few occasions she’d seen Braeden previously, they’d never actually spoke. “How’d you know my name?”

“Your name-tag,” Braeden replied, leaning forward and tapping her nail off the tiny tag over the pocket of Melissa’s scrubs. “Also, Scott’s mentioned you before.”

“Oh. Right,” Melissa murmured, trying to will herself not to blush. Braeden’s smirk was back in full force but this time, it seemed softer, almost like it was on the verge of turning into a smile. Before Melissa could attempt to come up with a response that was at least semi-dignified, a flicker of movement caught her eye. When she looked upwards, she was staring straight at another one of the robed beings, who was holding another revolver in their skeletal fingers. Melissa didn’t have to say anything; Braeden whipped her head around, reaching for the revolver she had stolen earlier.

“Get down!” she yelled, palm slapping down between Melissa’s shoulder blades. Melissa dropped her head straight into Braeden’s lap, inches away from the fresh stitches. A thunderclap of sound split the room again and Melissa jumped, waiting for blossoms of pain to start spreading through her body.

But they never arrived. Instead, after a few moments, Braeden’s hand dropped onto Melissa’s back again, far more gentle this time.

“You can sit up now,” Braeden said. Slowly, Melissa lifted her head. The air smelled rank, thick with the stench of gunpowder and blood. The second robed creature was laying on the ground a few feet away, fingers still twitching minutely. The floor around it was streaked with blood and gore.

“Looks like a revolver does the trick too,” Braeden muttered, turning over the gun in her hand before setting it aside.

“Thank you. Looks like I owe you, again,” Melissa said, averting her eyes from the mess covering the tiles.

“How about coffee?” Braeden asked. She leaned in, one eyebrow raised, close enough for Melissa to feel Braeden's breath brushing against her cheek.

“Coffee? Like, a coffee date?” Melissa asked, feeling her cheeks heat up again. Braeden nodded, smirk having finally turned into a small smile. While Braeden’s idea was unexpected, it certainly wasn’t unwelcome. It’d been awhile since Melissa had been on an actual date (the few dinners she’d had with Peter Hale did not count) and even if nothing came out of it, a cup of coffee was a small price to pay for having her life saved twice in one night.

“Yeah. Sounds great,” Melissa said with a grin. “But maybe we should wait until after the pack gets rid of whatever that thing is.”

“Deal,” Braeden replied, slowly getting to her feet and grabbing one of the strange revolvers. “I’ll see you in a couple of hours. You might have to drive.” Melissa rolled her eyes slightly as Braeden slowly walked (or, more accurately, hobbled) down the hallway. She was sure that it would be more like a few days before either of them were in any position to go on a date.

Yet two hours later, just as the sun began to peer over the horizon, there was a knock on the door of the room where Melissa was checking on one of their comatose patients, who hadn’t been affected at all by the attack. When she opened it, Braeden was leaning against the door frame, looking a little worse for wear. There was grime streaked along her face and down over the scars on her neck and her clothes were torn in a few spots. But Melissa knew she was in no position to judge; her scrubs were covered in all sorts of questionable fluids and wisps of her hair were plastered to her forehead.

“Coffee?” Braeden asked, panting slightly. Melissa nodded quickly, setting the patient’s chart back down. She assumed that the pack had managed to subdue the creature, which meant it was going to be time to start cleaning up the mess soon. She definitely needed coffee before that.

“Absolutely.”

The cafeteria coffee was lukewarm and tasted burnt, but they drank it on the roof, which seemed to be one of the only areas of the hospital that hadn’t been touched by the creature’s (miraculously non-murderous) rampage. The air was still cool as the sun’s glow began to spread across the sky and Melissa told herself that it was because of the coolness that she sat so close to Braeden. It had nothing to do with the fact that she thought Braeden looked like she’d had a hell of a long night. She looked like she could use a hug (or maybe about a day of sleep), which was a feeling Melissa understood all too well.

“You know, this doesn’t count as our date,” Braeden said, after they had been sitting in silence for a number of moments. Her injured leg was stuck out straight in front of her and Melissa was glad to see that all of the stitches were still intact.

“It doesn’t?” Melissa asked, finishing off the last of her coffee.

“No. You didn’t buy this coffee so technically, you still owe me. This is just a placeholder date.”

“I am more than okay with that,” Melissa said, unable to stop herself from smiling. She needed to get back downstairs soon, but she was sure that she had enough time to see what it felt like to tuck her fingers between Braeden’s.

As it turned out, it felt like the beginning of something new and promising.

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