2
Scott made sure he was upstairs when Stiles' father came home that evening, he didn't look forward to being present when they would get all obnoxious about Stiles' disappearance. Scott decided to lie down, try to get a grip on what happened that night, his heart still racing in his chest as he heard the voices downstairs echo through his head, trying not to focus on them. Just when he was about to give in and eavesdrop, his mobile phone started to ring.
"Derek, since when do you actually use your mobile phone?" he groans as he picks up, recalling how old-fashioned Derek actually is.
"Doesn't matter," Derek spat, his tone a bit more apprehensive than usually. "Is Stiles still around?"
"Yeah, sure, he's downstairs with his dad. Why?"
"You know when I said you have to keep an eye on him tonight?" asked Derek quickly, not giving Scott time to reply. "I meant make sure he doesn't contact Lydia."
"Why?" asked Scott, as he sat upright, confused. "And if you say that you'll tell me someday, I will come and kill you with my bare hands, and I don't give a shit if I still need you or something."
"I met Peter today, he told me some stuff about Lydia and Jackson," replied Derek, ignoring Scott's indignation. "It's just a matter of preventing something happening between Lydia and Stiles."
"That's really vague, you know," Scott sighed, before he continued, "and seriously, I don't know if you haven't noticed, but Lydia isn't really interested in Stiles. She never has been. I don't think you need to worry."
"For once, just trust me," Derek hissed through the phone, his tone so cold Scott could feel it. "She came to you on the lacrosse field and instead of crying about Jackson, she cried about Stiles. She has always showed more interest in Jackson, of course I know, but I have this feeling that she's starting to get a thing for Stiles anyway."
Scott fell silent for a few moments until he said, "Derek, I think you're overreacting, there's nothing happening between Stiles and Lydia. He would've told me, for god's sake. And by the way, Jackson is probably dead already, so we can probably just leave things as they are."
"Just – don't let him contact her, alright? Whatever happens."
"She might contact him, you know," Scott deadpanned.
"Goddammit, Scott, just keep him from contacting her and I'll come up with some other plan, alright? Something that will actually work."
"Okay," Scott replies, and adds, "Stiles' coming up, I'm going to hang up."
"Make sure he doesn't-"
"Yes, dude, yes."
"Everything alright with your dad?" asked Scott as the door opened to reveal Stiles, whose eyes were bloodshot and hair a mess.
"I guess," he replied before he fell down on the bed with his face down, laying still, the rising of his chest the only factor that confirmed his aliveness. Scott sullenly thought about how much a girlfriend would do Stiles well, especially at this time in their lives. He knew how Alisson had been an anchor for himself, or even more, a distraction, and he knew how Stiles could probably use one as well. Silently he cursed Derek, and said very slowly, "Maybe you should call Lydia." His words sounded strange, hesitant, and he could see Stiles could tell as well. Ignoring Derek's orders was perhaps not such a great idea after all.
Stiles sat up in record time, watching Scott, his eyebrows knot together. "Why the hell would I call Lydia? To get painfully rejected? Awful silences? I don't-"
"Maybe it would cheer you up," Scott interrupted Stiles. "You know, to hear her voice. Or something."
Stiles sighed deeply and muttered, "I don't think I even have her actual phone number."
"I do," said Scott and smiled slyly at his friend, who was staring at him wide-eyed, his expression screaming the question, 'how did you get it?'
Scott shrugged, keeping it a secret that he had copied it from Allison's mobile phone when she had gone to the bathroom the other day. He hadn't done it with Stiles specifically in mind, though. More pondering how it could come in useful when the girl would disappear for days again, or when she tampered with their drinks again, just so he could find out whatever she did or wherever she was. It sounded like a great idea in his head, but he wasn't so enthusiastic about telling Stiles.
"Just write her damn number down and call her," Scott said quickly, rummaging through his bag in search of his mobile phone. He told Stiles the phone number, who keenly penned it down on a piece of paper, and immediately copied it in his phone number.
"You don't think she's going to freak out, do you?" asked Stiles as he watched the number on the screen of his phone intently. "I mean, get a panic attack or something. I don't want to freak her out-"
"Just call her already," Scott sighed, telling himself he couldn't back off now. "I guess she'll like to know you're ok. You know, she was the one to inform Derek and I that you were gone, she was crying quite a bit."
"She was?" Stiles questioned, his eyes wide with excitement.
"Yeah," Scott said, simultaneously nodding. "She was."
"Okay. Let's just call her," Stiles mumbled, redirected to himself, as he pushed the 'call' button and waited for the phone to ring.
Scott watched as Stiles' facial expression turned from excited to terrified, and it took him only a few moments to realize Stiles was going to chicken out. Lydia's 'Hello? Stiles?' echoed through the room before Stiles could hang up on her.
Stiles and Scott sighed simultaneously as they watched the screen that said the line had been disconnected. "Why did you do that?" asked Scott, disgruntled. "She picked up the phone, you moron."
"I was just – let me call her again."
Scott decided he had to hold himself responsible for whatever things would happen next when Stiles called Lydia again, feeling undeniably tense, Scott would've felt it even without his werewolf instincts. When she picked up, he started a small talk about if she was okay, and Scott could hear their voices reverberate through his ears, ringing painfully. He wondered why Derek would make such a big deal about Stiles not being allowed to call Lydia. Nothing was going to-
"So, what are you doing tomorrow night, Stiles?" Scott heard Lydia ask, and he dropped himself down on the bed, horrorstricken, eyes wide open as he slowly started realizing. Derek had been right. Derek was always right. Before Stiles could reply to Lydia's question Scott quickly said, "Let's go to the movies tomorrow night, Stiles. That one film you've been thrilled to see. Batman." Scott watched as Stiles looked at him lividly, his lips pushed together.
"I don't have anything to do tomorrow night, Lydia, do you?" said Stiles, emphasizing Lydia's name. He stared at Scott intently, annoyedly.
"You wanna go to the movies?" Lydia asked.
Scott started to shake his head feverishly. "Batman, Stiles, we'll go see Batman and I'll buy you a large popcorn and I –"
"Yes, sure, do you have a movie in mind?" Stiles said, ignoring his best friend's pleading. Scott switched off, refusing to listen to any more of the conversation, contemplating about how he was going to tell Derek how he screwed up and how everything was entirely his fault. He decided he didn't look forwards to it.
"What is wrong with you?" hissed Stiles after he hung up.
"What are you talking about?" Scott groaned, lying tensely on Stiles bed.
Stiles dropped himself down on the bed and summed up, "First you force me into calling Lydia, then you try to interrupt and get me to go to the movies with you while I know, goddammit, that you could hear Lydia was going to ask me out. You are such a twit."
"Firstly," Scott started, trying to sound oblivious and ignoring Stiles calling him names, "I didn't eavesdrop on your little conversation with your crush. I just remembered you wanted to see Batman and I have nothing to do tomorrow."
Stiles didn't believe him. His eyes were fierce and fixed on Scott's fiendishly. "Well, go and see Alisson or something, because I already have plans."
"What movie are you going to?" asked Scott as he stared back into Stiles' eyes.
"I don't remember, I know I'm meeting her at seven."
"See! You would've remembered if you were going to see Batman," Scott argued, and as a reply, he received a pillow being thrown at his face.
(A/N: Sorry for deleting this chapter earlier... I hadn't edited it as much as I wanted to do. And also, thanks for all the follows and reviews, they made my day!)