Chapter Seven
Only In Beacon Hills
Disclaimer: I do not own BTVS or Teen Wolf, nor do I earn any form of financial gain from this work of fiction.
"Guess who's got a present?"
Popping his head around the corner of her bedroom door Kevin was greeted by the sight of Fred frowning at her laptop as though it were a particularly difficult math equation. At the sound of his voice, however, his young ward pushed herself back from her desk and spun around in her chair to face him. With her hands clasped beneath her chin and her blue eyes wide with childlike excitement she looked a lot more like a sixteen year old girl and less like the soldier he had grown accustomed to. It was a look he'd like to see on her more often. A look he vowed to see on her more often.
"You got me a pony?"
Brows were raised as he questioned whether she was being serious or taking the piss as usual, "Uh, no."
Face falling instantly, Fred turned back to her laptop in a clear indication of how uninterested she was in her present until it was of the equine persuasion. How she seriously expected him to fit a bloody horse behind his back, however, was beyond him. Were all teenage girls like this?
Taking a shot in the dark he offered, "But it's shiny?"
Tentatively casting a curious look in his direction, reminding him quite a bit of a cat who was trying to decide if the mysterious noise across the room was worth investigating, Fred questioned, "Shiny?"
"Very," he nodded an affirmative, trying to remember if he had ever had to try this hard to give a female a gift before.
Holding out one hand Fred very childishly replied, "Gimme."
Dropping the brown paper covered package into her hand, Kevin watched as she pulled at the twine tied around it, her thin brows drawn together as she concentrated on the task. As she pulled the lid off the simple cardboard jewellery box within the wrapping, an almost tender expression passed across her face. It was quick to disappear, however. Like she was scared of showing any genuine emotion. Anything that wasn't the bloody sardonic humor she used to stop anyone from looking too closely.
But he looked. And he saw. And although what he could see was concerning at this point he was more concerned in pushing her too hard.
There was an eagerness surrounding Fred as she hurried to slip on the bracelet he had gotten her. A witch down in New Orleans owed him a favour from way back and as soon as he'd discovered the strain of lycanthropy they were dealing with, Kevin was quick to call that favour in. Now a week later his Slayer was armed with a wolfsbane infused amulet that would make her job of identifying potential werewolves a hell of a lot easier than antagonising them.
Although knowing his Slayer, the antagonism was probably less of a game plan and more of a natural occurrence.
Looking up from where she had been inspecting the bracelet, "I'm assuming this is my anti-werewolf accessory, Q?" Fred grinned wryly, "Fashionable yet functional."
Rolling his eyes good-naturedly Kevin continued the joke by pushing imaginary glasses up his nose while continuing to lean against the doorway. "That would be correct, Bond. That thing's got enough wolfsbane in it to make any werewolves who get close just a tad uncomfortable. Twitchy enough for you to tell what they are, anyway."
"How wizard."
Hearing the phrase he often spouted himself fall easily from Fred's lips made his features soften and a slight warmth bloom within his chest. Is this what parents felt when their kids liked decent music or wore their trousers high enough to cover their underwear? Whatever it was, he liked it.
"Quite."
Somehow this angry little girl had wiggled her way inside his heart. Kevin still wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. Perhaps if the old Watcher's Council hadn't been blown to itty bitty pieces the answer would be a resounding no. WIth their short lifespans it was never a clever idea to get attached to your Slayer. However, they were in a new age with a new council that seemed to legitimately care for its soldiers. Even if they were still treated like soldiers.
Somehow he couldn't help but feel as though Rupert Giles and Xander Harris would be pleased to know that he was starting to view Fred less like an obligation and more like family.
"So, I noticed that Derek hasn't been around much this week?" Kevin broached the subject of the older werewolf with a near practiced nonchalance, knowing his absence was a touchy subject. Fred's frustration with his avoidance of her had grown near palpable the last few days.
Casting a look at him through her lashes that would make a lesser man tremble she accused, "Well, your little chat with him on Tuesday couldn't have anything to do with that, could it?" He at least had the good graces to give a slight wince of guilt. "So thanks for scaring off my potential sparring partner. You know, the only person in this town who could heal if I accidentally shatter his cheekbone?"
With a sigh Kevin rubbed at his jaw, fingers scratching against the dark stubble dusting his tanned skin. He had expected some hostility but that didn't make him feel any less sheepish by her reaction. Sure, he might have taken the overprotective act a little too far but once he had seen the two of them looking as though they'd just taken a good tumble in the grass common sense had flown out the window. It had actually been startling just how quickly it had gotten his hackles up, having to repress the urge to hide Fred behind him and out of Derek's line of sight. If this was something all parents had to deal with why the hell did they have bloody kids? It was exhausting.
"I was just trying to look out for you, love. I'm not here to train you up and send you off to supernatural war - I'm here to look after you. You're my responsibility as a person, not a soldier." Working his jaw as he deliberated over whether his next words were wise or not and ultimately deciding that it didn't matter he added, "When I saw the two of you I was...concerned."
"I'm not Buffy."
Kevin was shocked, demonstrated by the way he stared at her with raised brows and wide eyes while her words hung heavily in the now silent room. His mouth opened and closed several times as he attempted to process that statement, unsure of how to respond. "It's - well it's quite obvious you're not Buffy."
With a sigh, Fred elaborated on what she meant with those three loaded words. "I mean that you don't have to worry about me running off with some mysterious older guy and inadvertently bringing about the apocalypse. Yes, I like being around someone who's just as strong as I am, someone I don't have to worry about hurting if I go a bit too hard. But," a commanding finger was pointed in Kevin's direction, "that doesn't mean I want to jump Derek Hale's bones. The guy's six years older than me! Why would he go for a teenage girl? That's just fucking weird."
"I know."
Fred stopped her tirade at those two words, looking at him with questioning eyes and a confused tilt to her head. Blinking once, twice, she asked, "Say what?"
Pausing, Kevin considered his next words carefully before speaking again. A lot more carefully than he had earlier, "Derek Hale isn't wanting a girlfriend, Fred. He's wanting a family - a pack. He's desperate and lonely."
When it had become apparent that Fred wasn't going to run into Derek again unless she actively sought him out following their disastrous introduction, Kevin had done some research. It appeared that much like Fred herself, tragedy had ravaged Derek's life like a hurricane and left him standing alone in the wreckage. Newspaper reports had been split over whether it was arson or an accident that caused the Hale house to go up in flames. How the Hale family had been reduced to Derek, his older sister Laura, and an uncle who had suffered such terrible injuries he was now permanently hospitalised. Kevin suspecting that psychological trauma prevented the werewolf from healing himself.
Not really all that surprising.
"Did you know that is entire family burned to death in a house fire?" A sharp intake of breath came from the blonde, confirming that she was listening, however Fred was firmly avoiding Kevin's gaze as she stared determinedly at the floor. His question hitting a little too close to home, he reckoned. "And the sister that the Alpha killed, Laura, was one of two other survivors."
"Derek's an orphan," A bitter twist curved Fred's lips as she finally met Kevins eyes, "Can't say I don't relate."
Orphan. How he hated that word. Hated all it suggested. Hated the way it made Fred's blue eyes cloud over and turn dark. The way it implied that one had simply lost their parents, their family. Just carelessly misplaced them like a pencil or keys. As though there had been any form of choice in the matter.
As if there was ever a bloody choice.
Fred could understand Derek's loneliness and need for a family - a pack - because, despite her best efforts to appear aloof and alone, he knew she felt them too. Against her best judgement she had even tentatively begun to let people in; Dawn, himself, and perhaps even Allison from everything he had witnessed. Scott, his twitchy friend, bloody Derek. Yet there was always that fear that maybe, just maybe, Fred might lose them too.
It made her both hold on too tight and not tight enough. A constant push and pull that he feared would break her one day if she couldn't come to terms.
Coming to a decision Kevin was quick to stride over to the girl who suddenly appeared much smaller and lost than she actually was. Crouching down so they were at eye-level he braced himself against the arms of her desk chair, "If it means that much to you, Derek's welcome here. Whenever. I'll have a chat with him, apologise for being a prat, maybe engage in some manly bonding over football and a pint." A wry smile lifted his lips at the amusement that crossed her face with his words. "In fact, invite him round after the game. No time like the present, hmm?"
A genuine smile lit up her face, softening her hard edges as though he were looking at her through a pastel lense. He hadn't seen a smile like that often in the past six months. Tiny glimpses of the girl he used to watch over from across the street back in San Francisco. Hope that she wasn't completely lost made him feel as though perhaps he wasn't doing too bad at raising a teenage girl.
Sure, they were stumbling in the dark. But at least they were stumbling together.
Just as Kevin was debating whether it was appropriate to hug her a series of electronic noises split the air, Fred drawing back to look cautiously at the screen of her phone as the words 'Unknown Number' lit it up.
"Hello, Fred speaking?" Her eyebrows were scrunched up as she stared across at Kevin, equally bemused.
"It's Derek. Scott and his idiot friend got me arrested." Derek sounded incredibly irate. His voice alone painting a picture of the man sitting in the sheriff's office with a scowl in place, furrowed brows, and green eyes burning a hole in anyone unfortunate enough to make eye contact.
"And you used your one phone call on me?" A teasing grin accompanied Fred's words as she switched to speaker-phone. "I'm touched."
"Look, is there anything you or your Watcher can do?" It sounded as though Derek were forcing the words from between his teeth, unused to asking for help. Hell, the guy was probably unused to having people he could ask for help. It was a sobering thought for the man who had perhaps judged him unfairly and Kevin found his mouth pressing into a line.
"Remember, the first thing you gotta do is find the biggest meanest looking guy and punch him in the face to establish dominance," Fred was deadly serious before she chuckled at her own joke following Derek's unamused silence, Kevin smirking across at her in solidarity. "Look, don't worry McBroody - you are far too pretty for prison. We'll spring ya."
"...thank you."
Ending the call Fred regarded Kevin with a smirk tugging her lips, "Looks like you'll be making it up to Derek sooner than you thought. There's no greater foundation for a relationship than bailing a guy outta the clink."
"That your expert opinion, is it?"
"Saw it in a movie once," she shrugged.
"Oh," he drawled, "In that case it must be true."
Kevin left her in the middle of composing a strong-worded text to one Scott McCall to gather his things. If bailing the beta wolf out of jail was what it took to make his Slayer happy, then he would do it. Hell, if Derek could increase the frequency of those smiles and lift the weight from her shoulders, Kevin would give his blessing and merrily send the pair into the sunset.
Anything to make Fred happy.
"What's this?"
Reaching across the table Lydia snatched up Fred's arm with the sort of grip a Slayer would be proud of. Dragging the girl almost out of her seat as she brought the wolfsbane amulet around Fred's wrist closer to her face, Fred narrowly avoided spilling her caramel macchiato all over Allison's lap.
"That? That's nothing," Fred was aggressively blase as she began tugging her arm back, "just something my uncle thought I'd like."
Inspecting it a moment longer, possibly just to be irritating, Lydia finally released her arm with an approving incline of her perfectly styled head. "Well, your uncle has good taste," she declared before delicately taking a bite of her panini. "Very rockstar chic."
"I'm sure he'll be thrilled with your approval," Fred grumbled as she settled back in her seat, Allison shooting her a sympathetic look from behind the plastic cup of pure sugar she called a frappuccino.
"Your uncle's our new librarian, right?" Lydia had a certain glint to her eye as she regarded Fred, a hunger that had absolutely nothing to do with her food.
"Last I checked," the words escaped from around the mouthful of chocolate brownie Fred had just bitten off.
"Well," Lydia licked her lips as she said with almost practiced indifference, "He can check me out anytime."
While Allison quietly choked on her drink at Lydia's blatant sexual implication towards Kevin, Fred gazed at her impassively. "I'll be sure to let Jackson know he's not enough for you anymore then, Kevin's not really the type to share," the blonde pulled out her phone and brought out her messaging app, relishing the panic in Lydia's eyes as she realised she had seriously miscalculated. "Maybe he'll play extra hard tonight in an attempt to win you back with a display of sheer machismo?"
"Okay guys, jokes over," Allison tried to salvage whatever semblance of a pleasant lunch they had been attempting. The Disney princess look was out in full-force. It wouldn't have been out of place if cartoon birds began braiding her hair right then and there in the middle of Starbucks.
Initially seeing the Starbucks as a possible interlude from the constant sniping between Fred and Lydia this past hour she was quickly discovering that it was in fact not the case. Both girls were as bad as the other, antagonising in a way that was only achieved by siblings or people with clashing personalities being forced to interact.
Silence fell over the table, Fred mulishly shoving her brownie into her mouth in increasingly large increments drawing pleasure from the blatant disgust on Lydia's face. It made her wonder just what it was about this girl that got to her so much. There had to be more than just the blatant high school cliche of butting heads with the resident Regina George.
Whatever realisation she was rapidly approaching was blown out of the water as Allison leaned in close with a conspiratorial smile on her face, "The barista has been looking at you since we got here."
Thinking back on the frankly barbaric way she had been consuming her food, Fred found herself doubtful of Allison's observation. Raising a brow in disbelief she lightly replied, "Not likely, Ally A."
"Prepare to eat your words," Allison winked, "because he's looking at you right now."
Glancing over her shoulder Fred made eye-contact with the barista in question as he wiped down the coffee machine, a soft grin lighting up his face when he noticed her gaze. A warmth bloomed in her chest at the gesture, blinded by the whiteness of his teeth and the way his eyes crinkled in the corners. It was a familiar feeling, if not entirely unwelcome, bringing back memories of bonfire parties and boys with tanned skin who smelled like the sea.
"He's cute," Allison drew Fred's attention back to her, a satisfied smile dimpling her cheeks as she noticed the delicate pink colouring her friends cheeks.
"Allison!" Fred was quick to shift the attention to her friend, desperate for a distraction. "What about Scott? Are you so fickle that some pretty boy can just bat his big blue eyes your way and it's suddenly 'Scott who?'"
"Pretty boy, huh?" Allison locked onto her words with a grin that promised nothing but trouble. "Big blue eyes too?"
"Oh shut up!" Responding to the smugness on her friends face with a roll of her eyes. "The boy's cute and possibly looking at me. Doesn't mean we're five seconds from declaring our love through song."
"Of course not," Lydia finally spoke up, smiling in a way that was reminiscent of a shark considering their prey, "Why have barista boy when you've got Derek? I bet it's nothing but R-rated goodness beneath all that leather and brooding."
"For fucks sake!" Fred burst out, uncaring that her raised voice had attracted the attention of almost sixty-percent of the room, "I told you Derek isn't my boyfriend. He's…" Pausing as she struggled to think up a plausible role for Derek to play in her life and finally settled with, "...the guy's like my brother alright?"
"Well," persistent, Allison nudged her with an elbow, "There's nothing stopping you from giving barista-boy your number then."
"Uh, yeah there is," picking up her plastic cup she waved it in her face, watching those liquid brown eyes trace the scrawled black marker on the side. "There's the fact that I told him my name was 'Gwen Stacy' because I am clearly not interested."
"So?" Allison had her hands clasped beneath her chin as she gazed dreamily into the distance. "It's a cute story - like something out of a movie."
It hadn't even been done in a half-hearted attempt at a meet-cute. When the boy had asked for her name with an eagerness that had caught her off-guard it had been a knee-jerk reaction to respond with a blatant lie. A lie that he had most surely caught, if the knowing smirk curving his lips when he'd messily scrawled the name of Peter Parker's first girlfriend on the side of her cup was any indication.
However Fred wasn't here to meet boys or go on dates or develop crushes. She was here to do a job and the messiness of romance would do nothing except get in her way.
As it had done earlier that day, the Spiderman theme-song sounded loudly from the phone wedged in Fred's back pocket, barista-boy glancing over curiously as he recognised the tune. Eyeing the screen Fred's jaw clenched as Stiles' name stared back at her. It may had been over an hour since her phone-call with Derek, but Fred was still harbouring a lot of hostility towards Scott and Stiles over that particular bright idea of theirs. A bright idea that she would bet money on had originated from the skinny boy who acted before thinking. She allowed the call to ring out, ignoring the curious looks Allison and Lydia were sending her.
And then he called again.
Making a concentrated effort to hold back the flood of irritation on the off-chance Stiles was calling because his life was in danger, Fred made a weak excuse to her companions as she stood from the table. Making a beeline for the bathroom in an attempt to keep the conversation at least somewhat private she was sure to lock the door behind her.
"What?" She demanded, not bothering to hide her frustration with the twitchy boy who needed to get rid of his attitude towards Derek pronto.
After a distinct pause Stiles belligerently replied, "I guess you've talked to Derek then."
"You got him thrown in jail and he has no family! Who the fuck did you think he would call?"
The line was silent and Fred was quick to get fed up with waiting and cut him off as he finally decided to contribute to the conversation, "Look, Stilinski, I gotta say you don't sound as though you're in mortal peril - so get to the part where you tell me what you want."
"It's Scott," As soon as those words met her ear Fred was all business, cutting him off again.
"What about Scott?" A million different scenarios flashed through her head. Every one of them involving Scott McCall being in a different life-or-death situation that all seemed to be straight out of a James Bond film. Shaking away the image of him being tortured for information by Russian mobsters she was quick to ask, "What's happened?"
"Nice to know Scott gets your attention," Stiles muttered sullenly before his tone grew frantic as he recalled why he'd called to begin with. "Look, when we were at Derek's - yes, I know, please just let me finish - he had this girl buried beneath some wolfsbane that kept her in wolf-form. Or some shit. Anyway, long story short - I kept the wolfsbane, it made Scott freak out, and I've been driving around for the last fucking hour trying to find him!"
Leaning back against the sink Fred sighed heavily through her nose and made a concentrated effort to relax her jaw as she caught the sound of her teeth grinding together. It was getting to the point where those two boys couldn't be trusted without supervision. First the whole Jackson thing earlier in the week and now a wolfsbane addled beta gallivanting around town. Babysitting had definitely not been covered in Basic Training, that was for fucking sure.
"Look, just tell me where you are and I'll pick you up. I already know you're not at home, but this is more important than whatever you're doing."
Eyes narrowed in suspicion Fred glanced around the empty bathroom as though she expected him to leap out from behind the cistern and slowly asked, "And you know I'm not home how?"
"Do you usually answer the phone while you're in the bathroom?" If it were possible to feel someone rolling their eyes through the phone, Fred would have as Stiles sarcastically continued, "Either that or you're in a cave."
"Anyone ever tell you that you're disturbingly observant?"
"More than you'd think. Can I know where you are now?"
"Starbucks on Hudson. But don't come get me."
There was a beat before Stiles practically snarled, "And why the Hell not?"
"Because," Fred drew the word out in a mocking drawl, "I'm with Allison. And who do you think Scott's gonna come after when he gets the wolfsbane munchies? You, or the girl he's currently crushing on?"
The line went quiet except for the rumble of what she assumed to be the Jeeps engine in the background. While the way she had pointed it out had perhaps been a shade of mean, there was no arguing against her logic. What was the point of both of them driving around Beacon Hills on a fruitless game of hide-and-seek with Scott?
"I guess." There was no mistaking the begrudging way the words left his mouth, as though he were spitting nails.
Ending the call Fred tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling.
"Only in Beacon Hills," she muttered.
I found Scott. Allison's dad just hit him with his car - Fred.
Her thumb had barely left the send button before Fred's phone beeped with Stiles' reply.
Is heO k? - Stiles.
The car didn't kill him. But Allison's dad might if they don't stop reenacting the staircase scene from Titanic - Fred.
I'll be there soon - Stiles.
Don't bother - I've got it covered. See you at the game - Fred.
As soon as she'd laid eyes on Allison's father Fred had recognized him as the lead hunter from the night of the full moon, and if the looks Scott kept sending him were any indication she wasn't the only one. The tension was thick between the two of them, although on Mr Argent's end it was less because he recognized Scott as the werewolf he had pinned to a tree and more because he was the boy threatening his daughters virtue. The same boy who wouldn't stop gazing at her with lovesick hearts in his eyes.
It was like watching a damn Hugh Grant movie.
"I guess we'll see you there, Mr Argent," Fred slapped on her best 'Parent Smile', wrapped a hand around Scott's arm and began to forcibly lead him over towards where Lydia was sitting in her car taking selfies. "Bye Allison!" Fred called while opening the back-door and unceremoniously shoving Scott so hard he sprawled across the backseat.
Outside the car a bewildered Allison raised her hand in a wave while her father stared at them with narrowed eyes and a tight jaw. It was definitely an 'I'm gonna get my gun' expression, and Fred hoped it was caused more by seeing a teenage boy and not a teenage werewolf.
"Why," Lydia's voice split the air as she stared pointedly at Fred, "is Scott-Freaking-McCall in my car?"
"I'm giving him a ride to the game, and you're giving me a ride home," Fred shrugged, "It made sense."
Turning back to look out of the windscreen with a huff and pout that made it aggressively clear how unhappy she was with the situation, Lydia turned up the music so a bubblegum Top 40 pop-song blasted from the speakers. Loud enough to deter the very notion of conversation. If she were honest, Fred wasn't complaining. The very idea of making idle chit-chat with Lydia for the fifteen minute drive to her apartment was as appealing as battling a Mannorath demon.
And they exploded upon death.
Pulling up to the curb in front of Fred's apartment complex Lydia all but forcibly ejected both teenagers out of the car before taking off in a squeal of tires against asphalt. But not before she had regarded Scott with a gaze that was erring on the side of uncomfortably tense and reminded him not to mess up tonight. Cryptically adding, "Or else you know what will happen."
Turning to face a suddenly pale Scott Fred had considered asking what she had meant before shaking her head, "You know what? I don't even want to know. Come on."
Leading the way into her complex, Scott trailed behind Fred like a lost puppy, eyes roaming over every inch worn weatherboard and weeds growing between the gaps in the pavingstones. Despite this there was still a warmth, light filtering through curtains turning the windows a warm gold, the sounds of laughter filling their air from people cooking dinner. Fred's neighbours were in the middle of a rousing rendition of Under The Sea, the voice of their four year old daughter ringing clear as a bell.
"Kevin!" Fred opened her door, darting forward to scoop up the car keys left on the bench.
"Yes?" His head popped out from around his bedroom door, eyebrows raised as he spotted Scott awkwardly hovering in the doorway.
"I'm just going to drive Scott home," Hooking a finger through the key-ring she absently spun them in increasingly faster circles, "That okay?"
"Yeah, of course," suddenly looking hopeful he added, "does this mean I don't need to come tonight?"
A thoughtful expression crossed Fred's face before she replied saccharine, "No. If I need to suffer, so do you. Plus, Allison's father has magnanimously decided to accompany us and I know you're just dying to add to your friend group."
Groaning at the notion Kevin disappeared back into his room with a shouted, "Remember we have a guest for tea tonight!"
Grinning, Fred interpreted that comment as to mean Kevin had gotten Derek released and all was well. Like there was ever any doubt. For someone who couldn't tell when someone was legitimately flirting with him, Kevin could be very charming when he wanted to be.
Herding Scott out to where Kevin had parked his yellow mini down the side of the building Fred teased, "Never thought I'd be a soccer mom at sixteen and yet here we are."
Fred adored Kevin's car. Just adored it. It had actually been the first thing they'd ever had a conversation about, back before. Coming home from school one afternoon it had been sat on the curb outside her new neighbours house and before she'd actually thought her actions through Fred was knocking on his door. What followed was an hour-long tour of the car and mutual appreciation of a manual gearbox.
So yeah, she had a soft spot for the bright yellow 1978 Austin Mini.
Adjusting the seat and mirrors to suit her much smaller stature Fred waited for Scott to get settled before asking, "So am I taking you home or straight to the school?"
Idling at the curb Fred drummed her fingers lightly against the steering wheel, the setting sun cast everything outside in a bright fiery gold but the inside of the car was filled with shadows. As Scott silently stared down at his lap, expression unreadable, Fred was at least able to discern that he'd put his seatbelt on.
Just when the silence was getting awkward Scott met Fred's gaze with one of consternation, "Why are you helping me?" There was a desperate whine to his voice, a plea for understanding, "I mean, why do you keep helping me? You're always there. Whenever something happens you're just...there. Why me?"
With a sigh Fred dropped her head so it rested against the steering wheel, gathering her thoughts. It was not the time or place to get into everything. Not when the kid had a lacrosse game to play and Fred had a hunter to try and distract in case he wolfed out.
"Because it's my job," her voice was muffled behind a curtain of blonde waves as she essentially addressed her lap. "It's my fault that you're a werewolf and I'm trying to fix it."
"...your fault?" Scott's voice was thick with confusion. "The way I remember it, you tackled the thing that bit me to get it off me. You tried to save me."
"Tried being the operative fucking word!" Lifting her head she stared at him in disbelief while also looking like she'd been kicked in the stomach. Remembering the time and stupid lacrosse games and middle-aged hunters Fred deflated, "Look, where am I taking you?"
Looking as though he wanted to continue arguing the point Scott instead swallowed back his words. Self-loathing painted the curve of her face before the shadows shifted and she was a blank slate yet again. "My lacrosse gear's at home."
"McCall Residence, coming right up," letting out the clutch, Fred shifted gears and turned left, allowing the familiar motions to continue to calm her. Although with his sensitive hearing Scott was able to pick up the distinct sound of her teeth continuing to grind together, a habit he was coming to learn that she wasn't always aware of doing.
It was happening often enough that the possibility of Fred grinding her teeth down to the gums was becoming a legitimate concern.
After a few moments of silence Scott asked, "Allison isn't giving me a second chance out of pity, is she?"
Laughter tickled the back of her throat and she quickly choked it back, there was a tone to Scott's voice that betrayed a need for validation not humor. "No Scott, why would you even think that?"
Squirming in his seat he muttered, "Because on our first date I bailed like some kind of freak."
"Well, yes, not your finest moment," Fred conceded.
"And then I may have freaked her out at school the other day about Derek," he continued, letting out a loud groan and dragging a hand down his face in frustration, "I am such a freak."
Idly she wondered if 'freak' was the only insult in his vocabulary.
"And?"
Fred was a little baffled. Scott was a legitimately nice guy who obviously cared a lot for Allison. He was sweet, and kind, and while a little oblivious he certainly wasn't stupid. Not to mention he was definitely attractive enough to have his own show on Disney Channel. It was frustrating, this lack of self-confidence he had.
Growing up Fred had never worried about things like not being good enough, she just automatically assumed that she was. Insecurity wasn't a feeling she had been intimately familiar with. It could have come from living a lifestyle where everything just came easily, it could have just been a natural facet of her personality. So while Fred had an acute dislike of bullies and people that preyed on the weak for amusement, she was also eternally frustrated at the people who allowed themselves to be treated that way.
"Because I'm a freak now!" The words burst forth, fists clenched in his lap, as Scott refused to look at her. "But if it wasn't for the Bite, she wouldn't have even noticed me anyway. I wasn't popular, I wasn't good at lacrosse, I wasn't anything."
"First," Fred informed him sternly, "Stop using the word 'freak'. You've used your quota for the next four months in five minutes. Second, you're not nothing. Jesus, who cares that you weren't popular or that lacrosse made you a bit wheezy? None of that matters to Allison. She likes you because you were the cute boy who gave her a pen and noticed her on her first day of school."
"Really?" As Scott peered hopefully at her from beneath his messy bangs Fred felt her face soften.
"Well, it's certainly not because you can bench press a horse and her family wants to kill you," she deadpanned. "Look, it's just fear. You can't let it control you. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to anger - no, wait, hold on," Fred paused thoughtfully before continuing, "Fear leads to hate. Hate leads to the Dark Side. No, that's not it either. You know, right now, I'm pretty fucking happy that you've never seen Star Wars, because then you'd realise just how much I've butchered that quote."
Scott blinked once. Then twice. A loud laugh exploded out of his mouth, hands clutching at his stomach, as he blinked away tears. Allowing herself a crooked smile Fred rolled her eyes goodnaturedly and allowed the boy to laugh out his nerves.
"Thanks for the pep-talk," Scott grinned over at her, sincerity shining in his eyes. "I think."
"Not one of my best," Fred made a face, "But thanks."
"I liked your pep-talk," he admitted before scowling, "It was better than Derek's, anyway. He just tried to threaten me out of playing tonight."
"Oh?" Fred asked archly, raising one eyebrow and conveying just how unhappy she was with him despite his nice guy status. "That why you got him arrested?"
At least he had the grace to look a little ashamed of himself as he muttered, "Stiles thought it was a good idea."
"You can't just go around trying to get everyone who tells you something you don't want to hear arrested," Fred exclaimed. "And for what it's worth, Derek ain't wrong. You shouldn't be playing until you've learned how to stop yourself from chowing down on little lacrosse Happy Meals."
"So why aren't you chaining me up? Stopping me from playing?"
"Because, unlike Derek, I know that if someone tells me not to do something it makes me want to do it even more," Fred retorted, "And I'm fairly sure that's a teenage-thing and not just a me-thing."
Sighing yet again and wondering if she should try and find a Teenage Werewolves For Dummies book online she added, "Look, Scott, a hunter's going to be watching you play tonight. A hunter who has already demonstrated a lack of appreciation for lycanthrope life. I just don't want you to fuck up and get an arrow in the throat for it."
"I won't!" He protested fervently, "I need to play tonight!"
"I hope it's worth it."
It turned out that for all of her joking apparently missing a lacrosse game was unheard of in Beacon Hills. The stands were completely packed out by the time Fred and Kevin arrived, and they were still ten minutes early. Fred had a sudden urge to grab random passersby and confirm that they did in fact realise they were watching lacrosse and not football.
A faint fog hung across the damp grass of the pitch, twining it's way around ankles and climbing the slick steel stands. Floodlights illuminated what must have been a solid chunk of the towns population, everyone bundled up in gloves and scarves to ward off the bite to the night air. Winter hadn't yet released it's grip on Northern California apparently. Compared to Scotland Fred almost found it positively balmy.
The pair ran into Lydia as she was walking off the pitch and back towards the stands, a sound of disappointment escaping her before she led them up to where Allison was sitting with her father.
"Dad," Allison said after the group suffered through a full minute of awkward silence, "This is Fred's uncle - Mr Jones. He's our school librarian."
"Call me Chris," Mr Argent said with an easy smile on his face that when paired with the scattering of stubble made him a lot more attractive than the scowl Fred had previously seen him sporting. Although his pale blue eyes were just that little bit too sharp to be considered anything other than icy, it was easy to imagine him as a young man with his pick of the girls.
"Likewise," Kevin grinned, "Mr Jones was my father."
"Fair enough," Mr Argent accepted with a nod. "And you're the librarian here? Allison mentioned that you'd both only recently moved here?"
"That'd be right," Kevin confirmed, "After our stay in Scotland we decided California was it for us, and Beacon Hills was a good as any place. So far it's turned out to be a bloody delight." White teeth flashed in a grin that was a little too sharp before softening, "But what about your family? You're newcomers also?"
"That's right. Because of my job we have to travel around a lot, but Allison handles it like a champ - don't you sweetheart?" He wrapped an arm around Allison and pulled her close to his side. "My company supplies weaponry and ammunition for law enforcement agencies, and unfortunately once a contract runs out we've got to go where the next one is. I'm hoping Beacon Hills might be our last stop for a while though."
Raising an eyebrow Kevin eyed him, "War dog, eh? Can't imagine there's much action in a place like this."
"You'd be surprised."
With a sharp squeal from Lydia all further conversation was dissuaded as she ordered everyone to pay attention as the game began. Sharing a look with Kevin, expressing how painful they would both find the experience, Fred snuggled down into her leather jacket and pulled her red woolen scarf up over her nose. Even though Californian winter had nothing on Scottish winter, there was just something cozy about scarves and jackets. Considering her body temperature ran hot as a result of her Slayer healing abilities a lot of Fred's winter clothing was purely for the aesthetic.
"I'll admit I'm not entirely clear on the rules," Kevin leaned close to Fred, "But am I correct in saying that those boys are purposely not passing to Scott?"
With narrowed eyes Fred watched as Jackson blatantly shoulder-checked Scott in order to steal the ball off of his own team-mate. Despite going on to score a goal, she refused to cheer for him on principal. Matching Lydia's disapproving gaze with one of her own - what Jackson was doing was a dick move, even for him.
"You would be correct," Fred replied through gritted teeth.
"Sign time!" Lydia sang gleefully as she tugged Allison to her feet, Fred waving off the attempt, the 'We Luv U Jackson' sign thrust proudly into the air.
"So, which one is Scott?" Mr Argent asked Allison once she had dropped back into her seat, the sign joining the pile at Lydia's feet.
"He's the only one that hasn't caught a single ball so far," Lydia interrupted with a vicious smirk. Fred had to fight the urge to snatch Jackson's sign up and set it on fire.
"That's because Jackson isn't letting anyone pass to him," Fred's voice was raised as she glared down at the pitch. "It's not Scott's fault his team captain is being a resentful little fuck."
Ignoring the shocked looks at her language - Kevin simply nodding in agreement with a look of tired acceptance - Fred grabbed Scott's sign and thrust it into Allison's hands. Narrowly avoiding punching Lydia in the face. "I think Scott could use the encouragement more than Jackson right now, don't you?"
With a grin that lit up her entire face, brown eyes full of mischief, Allison held the sign as high as she could manage. Clambering onto her seat Fred smirked down at a pouting Lydia as she bellowed across the stands, "Kick their ass McCall!"
"Go Scott!" A blush darkened Allison's cheek as she glanced down at her dad self-consciously, a nervous giggle escaping her pink lips.
"Don't worry Lydia," Fred smiled sardonically at the redhead who looked five seconds away from throwing a fit, "No one expects you to do anything but suffer in silence."
All their cheering had drawn attention both on and off the field, with Stiles gaping up at the girls from his place on the bench while Scott's head swung in their direction. Hopefully the sign and encouragement would be enough motivation for Scott to keep his anger in check on the field. There was no doubt that the boy was angry. If it were Fred she knew that she'd be downright furious as Jackson's childish games.
Everyone watched, stunned, as Scott once again employed acrobatics in his lacrosse offensive and actually jumped off of another players shoulders in order to catch the ball before anyone could stop him. Effortlessly dodging every player attempting an intercept Scott weaved his way across the field to finally score his first goal of the game.
The stands erupted into sound. People were standing, hands waving wildly through the air, feet stamping down against the cold steel. Caught up in the energy Fred even let out an honest to God whoop of pure happiness, sharing a proud grin with Allison around a stubbornly silent Lydia.
Kevin regarded his ward softly, Mr Argent's keen eyes taking in the affection shining clear in his eyes. Broad shoulders were squared as he took a deep breath before slinging an arm around Fred, only relaxing once she glanced up at him with clear blue eyes.
It was yet another glimpse of the girl who had once cheered on football teams in a more official part. Pleated skirts and hair-ribbons and warm smiles.
Below Coach Finstock shouted at the players on the field, gesticulating wildly, putting an end to Jackson's powerplay and forcing the team to stop acting as though Scott didn't exist. It came to no one's surprise that once they did that the points started to rack up in their favour. No longer having to run interference on both the other team and one of their best players.
"He's getting too aggressive," Kevin muttered as they witnessed a player from the opposing team pass Scott the ball in what could only be an act of fear.
"I need to use the bathroom," Fred declared as she shot to her feet, "Back soon."
Rushing down the stands Fred instead made a beeline to the side of the pitch, throwing a leg over the bench and straddling it next to where Scott was nervously gnawing on one of his gloves. He jumped once he realised just how close Fred was, almost falling backwards in his shock, not appreciated the suppressed snort or raised eyebrows he received.
"Scott's not handling it," Fred stated as her eyes tracked the boy in question, tracing over the barely restrained violence in his movements.
"No-no he is not," Stiles confirmed with a jerky nod, his leg bouncing nervously and Fred had to bite down the urge to place a hand on his knee and force him to stop.
Both teenagers winced as Scott slammed another player into the ground hard, clouds of steam billowing from beneath his helmet as he let out a growl that Fred could very faintly hear.
"Is there anything you can do?" Stiles leaned forward and lowered his voice, at least attempting to prove to her that he could control his speaking volume thank you very much, "You know, if he goes full-Cujo and tries to eat someone?"
"Nothing short of running out there and dragging him off."
"Hey!" Coach Finstock's voice boomed loudly and both of them looked up in surprise to find him looming over the bench. "You can't be here - players only!"
"What?" Fred blinked with practiced confusion, "This isn't the bathroom?"
"Does it look like a damn bathroom?" Coach retorted before shaking his head, his faith in her generation clearly hanging on by only the thinnest of threads, "You know what, don't answer that, just leave!"
"Cool your jets, Coach Fredricks - I'm gone," raising her hands in surrender Fred stood up, amused by the way both Coach and Stiles were following her movements. One with a look of begrudging admiration for her ballsy quip, the other choking down laughter at seeing Coach Finstock blatantly compared to the character from Freaks and Geeks.
Backing away until she was partially hidden in the shadows beside the stands Fred jumped at least a foot in the air when a hand landed heavily on her shoulder. Spinning around, hands already clenched into tight fists, Fred stopped dead at the sight of Derek smirking at her with his eyebrows raised. Lowering her hands she scowled in response.
"You squeaked," He teased.
"How was prison," Fred crossed her arms petulantly, 'Get any cool tattoos?"
"Cute," he deadpanned, "Thanks - for sending Kevin."
Shrugging Fred turned back to the game, keeping an eye on Scott, "Don't mention it. Scott's not doing that great," Fred worried at her bottom lip with her teeth, brows drawn together in thought.
"No," Derek confirmed as he propped one shoulder up against one of the metal bracers holding up the stands, "He's already partially shifted. If it weren't for the gloves and helmet most of Beacon Hills would see what he is."
Both of them stood there in solidarity and watched as Scott stood half hunched over in front of the goal. Puffs of steam coloured the air in front of him as his shoulders and chest heaved from the force of his breaths. Derek and Fred shared a look before casting their attention back to the beta hanging on by a thread, both ready to rush out and drag him into the woods if necessary.
As Scott finally took the shot and scored the winning point, two exhalations of relief could be heard beneath the roaring of the crowd.
Sagging in relief, Fred allowed herself a soft grin up at Derek, liking the way his lips curved upwards in response. That was until they watched a determined Allison rush past in hot pursuit of Scott, who had fled to the locker-rooms as soon as the game had ended.
Taking off after her Fred called back to Derek, "See you at dinner!"
Arriving at the locker-rooms Fred found herself a moment too late as Stiles slipped inside. After deliberating she decided to just wait outside the door on the off-chance Scott managed to stay in control. Although every instinct was screaming at her to go in there, to protect the two humans trapped in a confined space with a predator who had proven tonight he had a weak grip on control, she stayed put. Allison would simply chalk up Stiles following them into the locker-room as the kid being weird and not all that aware of what boundaries were. However, Fred was concerned that her presence would definitely cause suspicion.
Despite firmly telling herself she was better alone, Fred couldn't bring herself to do anything to damage the tentative friendship she had begun to build with Allison. So instead she leant as casually as possible against the side of the hall, eyes fixated on the locker-room door with an intensity that only came from a predator.
It wasn't long until a blushing Allison slipped out, pushing her hair back from her face, and smiling sheepishly once she noticed Fred. Pushing off from against the wall the blonde knocked her shoulder against the other girls, steering her away from the locker-room and back outside.
"So?"
"We kissed!" Allison confided with an excited giggle.
"Tongue?"
"Yeah."
"Nice."
A/N: Thank you to my wonderful beta the missjanuarylily and huntsthemoon for constant validation!
And thank you to my wonderful reviewers: tinycurmudgeon, corahaale, and kissageckos!
- susiesamurai xoxo