The Big Picture
The scratching of Scott's eraser sliding aggressively over his paper was actively the most annoying sound Stiles had heard in all of his existence, distracting him from the delicate procedure of placing a wooden stick dabbled with glue on top of two supporting vertical ones. They were partners in their Technology class and this week's big assignment was to construct a piece of architecture fit for miniature people, a bridge or a tower of some sort. Scott was in charge of sketching out the design, and Stiles was the designated gluer. It was kind of like playing a game of Jenga that was probably going to get them a solid C (which Stiles could live with).
The seconds before Stiles would add another piece to their bridge were high pressure ones and he could hear Scott inhaling sharply with tightened teeth, a noise that said "this could be it, where it all tumbles down." Their construct had yet to fail them, and they remained hopeful that they would be able to rub it in Lydia's smug face that they were even able to complete the project.
With two hands on sassy curved hips she slyly wagered that they couldn't achieve a mere C. Stiles' immediate reaction was to defend their honor, and it somehow turned into him suggesting a fifty-dollar bet (much to Scott's chagrin). Lydia was more than happy to accept, and he was still scratching his head when they shook hands to seal the deal.
"Why can I hear you erasing?" Stiles snapped, unable to see Scott in his direct line of sight where he was focusing on the tiny piece of wood between his thumb and forefinger. His hand shook as it lowered over the top layer of blocks, prepared to press it down into the glue. "We shouldn't be making adjustments when we're halfway done, the original sketch was perfect." His tongue was pressed between his teeth in pure concentration, sweat breaking out at his hairline.
Easy now… Just like that. Stiles let the block drop into place. Excellent.
Scott rolled his eyes at Stiles' careful placement and the look of relieved satisfaction he was indulging in. "Yeah, well I wouldn't have to worry about it being 'pretty' enough if you hadn't put my pocket money on the line. I'm supposed to take Kira to an expensive place on Friday," Scott grumbled lowly, brushing away the stray eraser shavings with a little more force than necessary.
They were sitting on the carpet in front of Scott's bed, the only flat area where they could comfortably work together. It was turning out productive, even if their innovation was falling a little flat in what they considered to be its attractive features.
"Whoa, Mr. Passive aggressive. Would you rather Lydia shove her obnoxious A+ in our faces with that petulant little grin? Seriously, it's like she thinks we need glasses or something. Like we can't see that it's a perfect A from a distance of two feet!" His arms flop exaggeratedly, frustration rimming his brow.
"To be honest, I don't really care," Scott drawls. "You're the ones that are constantly competing; I have nothing to do with it." He shrugs one shoulder, returning his eyes to the figure between them. "That looks nothing like what I drew."
"What do you know?" Stiles seethed, adding glue to a new block.
The chime of Scott's phone interrupts the potential childish argument and he chuckles as he texts back.
"Who are you talking to?"
Scott's gaze flicks upwards to his friend, uncertain. He gnaws on his bottom lip as he considers telling him. He's pretty sure it's supposed to be a secret but Stiles is his best friend and he won't run his mouth off to anyone. "Liam," he responds curtly. He studies Stiles' face. "I think he has a crush on Lydia."
His ears perk up, but his gaze remains steady on the project. "Weird," he mumbles, seemingly uninterested. Stiles clears his throat several times and his eyes meet Scott's. "Why do you think that is?"
Scott shrugs cluelessly. "Maybe he likes that she's really smart or pretty or something, how should I know?" He checks over his new sketch and shakes his head. No, that sucks too. He scribbles over it and starts on a fresh page. The faint lines of previous pencil marks were confusing him too much.
"No," Stiles sighs in exasperation, like Scott is always a step behind. "What makes you think he likes her?" He stresses, eyes narrowed at the slightly shaking structure before him. Don't you dare fail me now.
"Oh, he told me."
Stiles presses his lips together in the fashion of a duck. "Interesting."
Scott smirks. Here we go. "What is?"
"Maybe you should tell him not to get his hopes up," Stiles cites observantly, for the benefit of the new addition to their pack. He didn't want the freshman to get his heart stomped on; the poor guy had enough to worry about. They were all aware that Liam was dealing with some PTSD caused by the dead pool and the berserkers that haunted his nightmares. He was scared to death back then, so early on in his new lifestyle as a werewolf, and maybe even more now.
"You think Lydia would hurt him?"
"Not on purpose, he's just a little young for her don't you think?" Stiles says it like Scott should know better. Wasn't it the most obvious thing in the world? Liam was the baby of their pack.
Scott can't hold his tongue. "That's a little rich coming from someone in a relationship with a woman who hasn't even been human since she was nine years old."
Stiles stares daggers. "Okay, that is really low Scott!" He shakes his head as the words repeat in his brain. "Pfft." He reaches a firm arm forward though his hand is delicate where it holds a tiny piece of wood, something to serve as purpose of decoration along the top of the bridge. He's surprisingly steady, and impressed with himself at the same time. "Is he going to ask her out?" Stiles queries meekly, his voice rising with insecurity that Scott could see plain as day.
He almost felt guilty for messing with him like this. "Would it bother you if he did?"
Stiles' face freezes, his hand stopping mid-motion. "What's it got to do with me?"
"It's just a question, Stiles," Scott teases effortlessly.
Stiles scoffs, "Hah. Double hah." He rolled his eyes and as he leaned closer to his work of art muttered to himself, quite convincingly, "that's ridiculous." He was eye-level with the bridge, searching for somewhere to put the block dripping glue into his hand; hopefully someplace already dry.
"Besides, it doesn't matter," The alpha shakes his shoulders loosely, admiring the handiwork of his friend. It was turning out kind of nice. "He already asked her out and she said yes."
As if the information were too much to physically stand, Stiles jerks forward, tripping on his own brain. "What!?" His movement is so sudden that his hand smacks against the construct, and in slow motion, the glue breaks apart and it shatters sadly to the ground. Both boys immediately shoot up to their feet.
"Noooooo!!" Scott had yelled, misfortune and horror evident in his agape mouth and bulging eyes. His hands were in front of him, palms aimed pleadingly toward the ceiling and shaking as if to say "Why me?"
"I can fix that," was Stiles' immediate reaction. For the first time in a long time, he was scared of his best friend. He was probably furious with him. Then again – he kind of had other problems. "Actually, no I can't." His body is restless, jostling with energy.
Scott's cheeks puffed up and then deflated, still in a state of shock and bewilderment. "What do you meant you can't!?"
"I have be somewhere," he mutters, heading for the door and only stopping at Scott's voice. He already knew what "somewhere" meant.
"Stiles!" Scott reprimands. "You're an idiot. A complete and total idiot." His feet are heavy as they stomp toward him. "You wanna know why?"
He angles his head and gives Scott a once over, mistrusting. "Why…?"
"Because I was screwing with you! Lydia didn't say yes." He shakes his head feverishly. "She told him she was flattered, but not interested." Scott huffs like he'd just run a mile. Keeping up with Stiles' train of thought was a little difficult sometimes. That boy functioned like a motor.
Stiles pauses, running a hand along his jaw uncertainly. "You're serious?" At his nod of confirmation, he smacks the werewolf's shoulder hard. "You ass!" he gestures toward their destroyed project. "This is now your fault, you realize." he points an accusing finger directly at Scott. "You fix it!" And then he's leaving again.
"Where are you going now?"
"I'm going to figure out a way to make Lydia's smug face at school tomorrow worth it."
"And how the hell are you going to manage that?" This was probably another brilliantly bad idea that would only result in Scott and his schoolwork getting punished in the end. Then again, pranking Stiles had been his doing. He should learn to keep out of everyone else's business, especially where the competitive lovebirds in denial were concerned.
Stiles contemplates this with pursed lips, backing up slowly toward the open door. "I haven't figured it out yet." a slow grin stretches across the width of his face. "But think big."
He disappears down the hall, and Scott wonders what the hell that means. He's sure that he'll find out soon, and by all accounts, he does. Unfortunately, he's entirely unprepared for the all-out prank war that would consume the next week of their lives.