A/N : This story loosely takes place during Season 3. I won't strictly follow the plotline but most of the main occurrences in Season 3 will take place through the prospective of Franky. Also, Jackson hasn't moved to London. He's still in Beacon Hills but a werewolf. And still a douche. I like the rivalry between Scott and Jackson so that will definitely be played up in this story. The Alpha pack will have a big part in this story too as will the Oni and Nogistune. The latter will happen later though. I think that's about all...if you guys have any questions feel free to ask and if things aren't exactly making sense I welcome constructive criticism! (Also, I've never actually seen TeenWolf so I'm getting most of my info from other fanfictions and Wikipedia.)
Disclaimer : I own nothing but Franky and Vienna
By the time Franky finally makes it to the lacrosse field, Stiles is on the tail end of an angry lecture by her dad for being late for practice. Shaking her head at her father's antics, and his obsession with that damn whistle, she swears one day she's gonna take it and -
"Franky! Over here!" Turning her head, Franky sees Vienna at the top of the bleachers, on her feet waving her hands frantically to catch her friend's attention. But her loud yell catches more than just her friend's. Every person on the field, including her father who gives her a thumbs up for showing up, eyes the blonde self consciously tugging on a lock of hair as she walks over to the bleachers. She's never liked being the center of attention – especially when all the eyes on her are male.
She's almost to the bottom of the bleachers, grumbling under her breath about Vie's loud mouth, when suddenly a sweaty hand clamps down on her bare shoulder. She swears her feet leave the ground. Squealing, she swivels around her right hand pressed to her racing heart. "Don't do that!" She hisses, before finally registering who in fact did that. The boy who early this morning laughed at her humiliation. Jackson Whittemore. Her eyes narrow and she straightens her shoulders, meeting his mocking gaze head on. Letting a guy younger than her bully her is not something she wants to deal with the rest of the school year. She needs to put a stop to it now.
He's smiling and standing too close for comfort. Probably to intimidate her. Jackson seems like the kind of douche to do that. "Hey Franklin." His toothy smile widens when she winces. She can't help it – she despises that name and he seems to revel in that. "You came to watch me play? You shouldn't have. Desperation doesn't look good on you."
Her fists clench at the nerve this guy has but she forces an innocent smile. Two can play at this game. "I heard your face met a Calculus textbook?" Brown eyes focus on the perfectly chiseled nose in the middle of his face. Shouldn't it be swollen and bruised? Mentally shaking herself she continues goading the lacrosse captain. "It sounded painful," she points out in a tone dripping with fake sympathy. "However did that happen?" His right eye twitches and she almost breaks and laughs right in his ugly face. Thank god for Vienna Hale.
Jackson doesn't find it as funny. His eyes darken considerably while he takes a threatening step towards her. His hot breath fans her face and she steps backward. "You can tell that bitch she better watch-"
"Hey!"
"I better watch what?"
Jackson trails off when he realizes there's an audience. He immediately goes from threatening to annoyed. Taking a step back from Franky, he rolls his eyes. "Franklin and I-" Franky huffs at the use of her full name again causing Jackson's lips to twich upwards, "- were having a harmless little chat. Don't go getting your panties in a twist, McCall." The Lacrosse captain already looks 100% done with this conversation.
Scott McCall, who Franky just now notices is standing beside Jackson along with Stiles, oh god Stiles who seriously looks hot in his jersey, scoffs. "Give me a break, Whittemore. You need to back off now. I didn't think you were the kind of person to threaten a girl." Lie, Franky's mind whispers while Jackson spits, "That bitch threw her textbook at my face!" Stiles snorts. Scott takes a step towards the other player only to stumble backwards when two hands shove at his chest. Almost Immediately he straightens and gets into a defensive stance. As if the two are about to battle it out. Scott scowls – and did he just growl – while Stiles glares dangerously at the asshole. Franky can't help but wonder where her dad is. Shouldn't he be able to see that his two most valuable players are about to start battling it out? Scanning the field for her father, while simultaneously stepping backwards until she's behind Vie (because using her werewolf friend as a shield seems better than getting caught up in the fight that's about to happen), she grimaces at the sight of her dad screaming at Greenburg in the middle of the field. She isn't entirely sure why her dad hates the kid so much – she isn't sure her dad knows why either – but sometimes she wishes he'd give the kid a break.
So caught up on the screaming from the field, she almost misses Jackson lean forward with a sneer, just itching for a fight. "You don't get to tell me what to do. Not anymore. We're equals now." Frowning, Franky eyes the two questioningly. Not anymore? Equals? What is he talking about? Did Franky miss something? Because as far as she is concerned, Jackson can never be equals with Scott. From what she's seen of the Stiles' best friend he's a pretty decent human being. Jackson on the other hand...Though there are a million questions running through her head, she keeps quiet. She'll ask Vie later because that girl and her brother know everything there is to know about Beacon Hills and everyone in it.
Vienna, deciding to be the mature one, steps forward until she's sandwiched between Jackson and Scott. She pushes both boys away from each other with a sigh. "Put your dicks away boys, I think we all know that a fight is not what we need at the moment. You really wanna inform all of Beacon Hills High that you two are werewolves?" Vie's voice lowers on the last word but Franky hears it loud and clear. Her eyes widen and her head swivels between the boys. Jackson and Scott are werewolves? When the hell did that happen? How much has Vie not told her? She pauses, inhaling sharply. Does that mean Stiles is a werewolf too? Focusing on the unusually silent but still anxious Stiles, she decides that he can't be. No werewolf is as clumsy and utterly twitchy as he. She still makes a mental note to demand answers from the Hale siblings later.
Vienna meanwhile takes the boys silence as a no. Folding her arms, she glares at both like a parent scolding their disobedient children. "That's what I thought. Now why don't we all just walk away and pretend this never happened?" There's a short tense silence until Jackson mutters something under his breath – presumably a curse towards Vie if the way her glare hardens is anything to go by. Jackson then shoulders his way past the girl, Scott, and Stiles but not before throwing over his shoulder, "This isn't over."
Rolling her eyes, Vie turns to Scott and Stiles. Cocking an eyebrow she purses her lips. "Really Scott? You were gonna start something here? I thought you had more control over your anger." She's taunting the kid. Guilt flashes in his eyes but before he can say a word, Vienna huffs with a wave of her hand, "Don't bother. Apology accepted. Now go play lacrosse because you need to let some of that anger out." Scott furrows his brow at the dismissal but with a long suffering sigh he turns around and treads to Coach. To say Franky is surprised at the way the boys listen to her best friend, is an understatement. She has to get Vie to teach her how to have that kind of power. Or maybe it's just a werewolf thing and in that case, Franky has no desire to ever have that.
"You're still here." Franky's mind comes to a halt at the words. Is Vie really asking her that? She starts to reply when it sinks in that Vie isn't speaking to her – Vie's words are meant for a dorky boy standing in front of them. "The big showdown's over." There's thinly veiled amusement in Vienna's voice, like she knows the exact reason Stiles is still shuffling his feet in front of them. Franky isn't complaining. Basking in Stiles presence is a luxury she will never complain about.
Stilinski sheepishly smiles, his brown eyes quickly darting to Franky. Suddenly she feels the need to fan herself. "Uh yeah I just wanted to uhm make sure Franky's ok." His brow furrows when she lets out a high pitched squeak. He is still here because he wants to check on her?! Be still, my beating heart she silently sighs. "Jackson's a real prick sometimes and...yeah." He lets out a deep breath, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks are red and splotchy again when Vienna snorts. "But I can see that you're ok so I'm just gonna – I'm gonna shut up and go back to sitting on the bench." He glances over at Franky again before nodding to himself like he's confirming that she's ok and making a move towards said bench. Franky instantly panics – she can't let him leave without saying something to him! She needs to thank him for his concern and – and oh god he's leaving and she can't speak.
Vienna grins now, gaze never wavering from the nervous boy. She finds his nervousness hilarious. Oh, if Franky only knew her crush isn't as one sided as she thinks. "Oh you don't need to tell me why you stayed. I can hear your heart racing though I'm not sure which is louder – yours or Franky's. " Franky and Stiles both freeze. His back is turned to the girls but his shoulders tense and he pauses mid step. She can see a wave of red crawling up his neck. Franky suspects her cheeks are a similar color. She isn't sure whether to be humiliated or happy. The silence that follows is unbearably awkward. "Well, Franky-" Vie turns to the blushing girl with a Cheshire cat grin, "-I'll leave you two alone. There's some unresolved tension here that needs to be resolved. Pronto." And with a small wave, the grinning girl leaves Franky and Stiles.
Stiles slowly spins around, eyes darting anywhere but Franky. Both are too embarrassed to confirm or deny (well there's no use denying when it's true) so they stand in awkward silence. Until Stiles' eyes snap to her face when she clears her throat. She needs to say something. "So I – you – thankyouforyourconcern." Her voice only wavers a little and it all comes out in a rush but it's enough to make her blush harder. Especially under his gaze.
His smile is blinding. "No problem. Jackson's a real douche sometimes." She snorts and his smile widens before he clears his throat and gestures to her. "So uh..." And suddenly he seems to be at a loss of words. Almost embarrassed by what he was about to say.
Franky frowns, looking down at her clothes. Is that what he's pointing to? She doesn't see anything wrong with her tank top and skirt. Maybe he meant her face. Shit, did she have something on her face? "What? Is there something on my face?" She touches her face self consciously before locking eyes with him.
Heaven help her he's right in front of her and he's reaching for her face. He's going to touch her face. She inhales sharply, never breaking eye contact with Stiles, when his fingers graze her cheek. His skin leaves a fire on hers and suddenly she isn't sure if she'll ever be able to breathe again after this.
Time seems to stop. She can't hear anything but the blood rushing to her face and her heart beating against her rib cage. The lacrosse field fades and all she can see is Stiles in front of her. Looking at her with such fondness that confuses her but makes her body tremble. Hasn't she dreamed of a moment like this? Maybe that's what this is. A dream. If it is, she hopes she never wakes up. Because the sensation of Stiles long fingers lightly, ever so lightly, curling around a stray piece of blonde hair and tucking behind her ear, is something she never wants to wake up from.
Time stops.
"Stiles, if you don't get your hand off my daughter I will beat it off with your lacrosse stick!"
And suddenly time starts again. Jumping apart, both teenagers immediately redden. There's stuttering and barely any eye contact (Stiles is having a hell of a time rationalizing why he did what he just did) until it registers what was just yelled. His eyes widen immensely and now he can't stop staring or gaping at the girl who can't stop glaring at her dad. "Daughter? You're coach's daughter?" His voice squeaks and Franky vows to never speak to her father again.
She sheepishly grins. "Yeah..." Out of the corner of her eye, her dad is stalking towards both of them, continuously and angrily blowing his whistle. If they didn't have everyone's attention before, they do now.
Stiles pales. "Oh my god. Coach is gonna kill me." And whatever intimate moment they were experiencing is definitely gone now. Oh well, it was good while it lasted.
Another A/N : this is kind of a filler chapter. Next chapter (hopefully will be posted in a week) will have more action. I was gonna add more to this but it's already over 2000 words.
Preview :
Bobby Finstock narrows his eyes at the other man. "Well considering that your son was practically molesting my daughter during lacrosse practice..." The Sheriff's eyebrows recede into his hairline and Franky squeaks, cheeks coloring. This is not how she wanted to meet her future father – in – law.