A/N: For those who read the last chapter before Monday, the ending was changed ever so slightly. It's nothing major - I've just taken out the social worker plotline purely because, upon editing and working on future chapters, I realised it was taking away from opportunities to develop current characters. I also have limited knowledge on social work so it just worked out better to remove it, other than for occasional references.
Anyway, thank you to those who have reviewed, favourited, followed and read this far!
JesiLea: Yeah! He's an interesting character. Lots of future ideas involving Peter!
Chapter 15: Benched
Clark followed Scott, who was adamant he could play without losing control without Clark's constant insistent not to, into the locker room. Scott was far too stubborn when it came to lacrosse for his own good and Clark had ran out of different ways to say 'don't play the game'. The locker room was loud and rowdy, filled with their fellow teammates hyping each other up as they changed and prepared themselves.
As he reached his own gear, all of which was technically Danny's, he was met by Jackson who was already dressed head to toe in his own gear, raring to go. "There you are. I've been trying to call you all day," Jackson told him as Clark dropped his bag onto the floor.
"My phone died," Clark told him and he technically wasn't lying. His phone charger had been left at his house overnight and his phone had lost its battery whilst he'd been at the sheriff's station. He did pick up his charger when he was at his house earlier that day and had charged his phone when he returned to the McCall's. He had found Jackson's missed calls shortly before leaving the house for the game.
"Don't ever skip school without me again," Jackson demanded in a tone which suggested to Clark that he'd had a hell of a day.
"What? You can't go one day without me?" Clark retorted jokingly with a genuine grin; his first one since finding out about Laura's death. He turned his attention from Jackson to his lacrosse strip as he began to get changed.
"Jamie spent the whole day raving about ghosts. He's completely out of it!" Jackson commented, obviously not convinced by Jamie's insistence that ghosts were real despite Clark's recent chat with him to shut the hell up. Clark made a note to have another chat with the guy. The lack of appearances from Cora over the last three days had convinced him that he'd allowed himself to get caught up in Jamie's crazy explanations rather than accepting Ms Morrell's logical one.
"Tell me about it," Clark muttered in agreement as he exchanged his shirt for the red Cyclones shirt complete with the white number '4' on the back.
"Lydia was on my case all day about getting that shot," Jackson continued to fill him in.
"Which, considering you're here and playing, you obvious got," Clark inferred. "Hate to break it to you, man, but she's got you whipped," he joked with a light chuckle and disapproving shake of his head.
He earned a playful punch on the arm from Jackson for that comment. Other than that, Jackson chose to completely ignore the comment. "And people have been pestering me all day about you," Jackson concluded.
"About me?" Clark played dumb as he finished changing and began to put on his protective gear. He was fairly sure he knew what they had been pestering Jackson about. In a town like Beacon Hills where many were under the impression that 'nothing happened' - Clark sure wished he had that impression - news travelled quickly.
"There's some serious rumors going about," Jackson told him. "And your no-show makes the rumors appear true."
Jackson was dancing around the topic of the rumors, showing some tact which had to be one of the first times he'd done so in his life. "That my sister's the dead girl and my brother murdered her?" Clark came out with what he was sure was the rumor floating around the school, speaking casually in a way which surprised the other players within hearing distance but also enticed them to continue to listen in.
"Bang on," Jackson confirmed with a nod as Clark returned his focus to tightening his right elbow pad. It proved a good distraction to stop him from thinking about what they were actually talking about. Unbeknownst to Clark whose attention was solely on the elbow pads, Jackson was watching him closely. "That's rough."
"It's life. I'm used to it," Clark responded dismissively as he pulled one of the straps tighter. He then turned his attention to his left elbow but hesitated when his hand touched the strap, his eyes drifting upwards from the elbow pad to meet Jackson's eyes. "He didn't do it though," Clark found himself defending his brother despite how angry he was at him. "I know he didn't do it. Even if I'm the only one who seems to think that."
Jackson placed a hand on Clark's shoulder. "If you say he didn't do it, I believe you."
Clark smiled at him appreciatively and for a peaceful half a second he felt a wave of relief in which nothing else seemed to matter. Then the general hum of the locker room reminded him of the game. He pulled away from Jackson, hastily returning his whole attention to his left elbow pad, as he spoke light-heartedly, "Don't get altruistic on me now."
"Altruistic? Since when were you a walking thesaurus?" Jackson challenged with a laugh.
"To be honest, I'm not even sure it means what I think it means," Clark chuckled as he finished amending his elbow pad.
"Yeah, I didn't think you did," Jackson retorted with a jesting disapproving shake of his head. "Now come on, we've got a game to win." His helmet and lacrosse stick already in his hand, Jackson set off for the field, barely giving Clark any warning. He scrambled to grab the equipment he borrowed from Danny and set off after Jackson.
Clark caught up with Jackson as the pair neared the door but he stopped when he heard someone calling his name. Jackson continued out of the door with the rest of the team as Clark turned to see Jake behind him, holding a glove in his hand. "You dropped this," Jake explained as he held the glove out for Clark to take.
Clark looked down at the equipment in his hands and confirmed that he did, in fact, only have one glove in his possession. He stepped forward to take back the glove that he must have dropped and muttered a thank you. He was about to turn to the door when he saw Jake's head drop and the other teenager made a move to disappear further back into the locker room. "Aren't you coming?" Clark asked.
Jake's shoulder's slumped and he sighed before answering with his own question, "What's the point?"
Clark wasn't following. He frowned before dumbly answering, "Of the game? Score the most goals. Win."
"You don't need me for that. Not now that both Jackson and Scott are playing," Jake returned.
"Ah, you were next in line for first line," Clark realised, Jake's disappointment suddenly making a lot more sense to him. Clark still wasn't convinced that Jackson playing was a good idea. He would have been much happier if Jake was playing instead though he knew that Jackson would be nowhere near happy if he couldn't play the game.
"I knew it was too good too be true," Jake sighed again as he slumped down onto one of the benches. "As if I was going to play my first game when my dad's actually here and not travelling for work on the other side of the world."
"Lacrosse can get violent," Clark reminded him. "If someone gets injured, you'll be first on. Come on. It's sport. Anything can happen."
-TW:H-
By the time Clark convinced Jake to leave the locker room, the rest of the team had all gone on ahead to the field. Clark made the walk to the field with Jake at his side, the other boy talking the entire time about his dad's high school lacrosse playing days. Clark found himself wishing he had managed to convince Scott not to play; less so out of fear of Scott losing control and killing someone but more so to have allowed Jake to fulfill his dreams of playing lacrosse in front of his father.
As they reached the field, Clark spotted Jackson taking warm-up shots at Danny with Jamie and Kyle. Clark made a move to join them whilst Jake made a move towards the bench but Coach appeared in front of them, stopping the pair in their tracks. "Miller, you're on," Coach announced and Jake's green eyes went wide in disbelief and excitement.
"Yes!" Jake exclaimed ecstatically and high-fived Clark in celebration.
"Nice one!" Clark congratulated him. "Come on, let's go warm-up," he instructed, making a second attempt to go and join his friends at the goal.
Coach stopped him for a second time, not by blocking his path but by saying five words, "Hale, you're on the bench."
Clark rounded on him. "What?" He exclaimed in utter disbelief. There was no way he had worked so hard to make the team fairly only to be dropped from the first line right before the first game. "You have got to be kidding me!" He threw his arms out in frustration.
Jamie jogged over, sent by Jackson to investigate the hold-up. "What's going on?" Jamie investigated, reaching Clark's side and placing an arm around his neck. "We need to get you warming up your winning shots."
Clark sharply pulled away from Jamie. "Apparently, that's not happening," he snapped, shooting a glare in Coach's direction.
Jamie glanced between Clark and Coach, utterly confused. "I'll ask again. What's going on?" He repeated.
"I'm being benched," Clark filled him in, his anger evident in his tone. "For this joker," he elaborated, throwing an arm out to indicate in Jake's direction. Jake's previous excitement disappeared with this action, confused and slightly hurt by Clark's sudden decision to attack him after raising his spirits just moments before. Clark had been all for Jake playing, but not at his own expense.
"You missed practice. We can't have people seeing that you can still make the team without making practice. Then no one would turn up to practice and then we would lose," Coach explained his reasoning.
Clark gaped at him, "I'm pretty sure I have a valid excuse."
"He was there for the tactical discussion at practice. You weren't," Coach explained his reasoning further, all the while Clark was shaking his head in disbelief. "It's the first game back. We need to win to give the boys confidence."
"If we need to win, you'd play me and not this idiot!" Clark snapped. Jake's head dropped and his shoulder's slumped from a lull in confidence at Clark's exclamations. "There's a reason you made me first line in the first place! I can do all the things Scott McCall does! Just because I didn't show off about it like he did, doesn't mean I can't."
"Why are we standing around discussing this like some kind of democracy?" Coach questioned rhetorically, receiving the three's boys full attention when he spoke; Jake lifting his head from the ground, Clark's angered glare as he stood his hands on his hips whilst Jamie continued to look like he still wasn't entirely sure what Jackson had sent him into. Coach gestured sweepingly at the three players. "In case you've forgotten. I'm the coach. It's my team. Which means what I say goes." Clark huffed in frustration at that statement, shaking his head in disbelief. "Miller, you're playing. And if you play well, it could become permanent. So show me what you can do."
Jake's eyes lit up again at Coach's reinforcement that he was starting, his confidence returning and he sent an appreciative nod in Coach's direction before jogging to join the rest of the team warming up on the field. In contrast, Clark did not share the elation that Jake had as the other boy joined the team with a spring in his step. Seething with anger at his possibly permanent replacement, Clark stormed off without another word to Coach or Jamie, flipping the bench that Coach intended him to waste his time sitting on as he passed it. The action made Stiles, who was getting ready to take up his usual position on the bench, jump back in surprise as it somersaulted in the air and landed upside down.
Jamie stared after Clark as he watched his friend channel his anger into the bench and then slamming his helmet on the floor before continuing to walk away. Clark looked far from interested in watching the game, making Jamie lose interest in playing it. He was much more concerned about ensuring that Clark was okay and possibly having to prevent him from punching a tree in anger and breaking all the bones in his hand.
Jamie started to follow Clark but Stiles stopped him when he was passing the overturned bench. "Help me with this will you?" Stiles asked, drawing Jamie's attention off Clark and onto Stiles as he struggled to turn the bench back over on his own. As Jamie moved closer to the bench to help flip it back the right way, he noticed Stiles' light brown eyes shifting nervously between him and a section of the bench. Jamie followed his eyes and caught sight of four long, thin scratches close to one another. They looked to him like claw marks and they quickly gained his full attention.
"Huh. They're weird," Jamie purposely pointed them out to gauge Stiles' reaction. Stiles tried to act liked he had only noticed them when Jamie had pointed it out. Stiles' look of surprise would not have convinced Jamie even if he hadn't seen Stiles glancing towards them and trying to get the bench turned back as quickly as possible.
"A coyote must have come sniffing around one night," Stiles shrugged dismissively as Jamie finally took hold of the bench and helped him flip it over.
"Or a wolf," Jamie commented suggestively, rubbing his hands on his shorts after letting go of the bench.
There was the slightest hesitation before Stiles replied, "There are no wolves in California."
Stiles felt like Jamie was watching him suspiciously but there was no way anyone in their right mind could immediately make a connection between claw marks and werewolves. However, Jamie's recent obsession with ghosts had become well known around the school and Stiles wasn't entirely convinced that Jamie wouldn't make such a loose connection.
"Of course not," Jamie responded with a nod but his tone suggested he wasn't fully convinced.
Stiles awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck as he added, "Not for years." There was a silence that followed in which Jamie didn't respond but also didn't stop looking at him. Stiles felt too awkward for a staring contest and found himself scanning the growing crowd whilst waiting for Jamie to leave him alone.
"Oi! Jamie!" Stiles never imagined he would be so happy to hear Jackson's voice but his interruption to his and Jamie's conversation was a welcomed one. "Standing there chatting isn't going to help us win this game."
Jamie glanced briefly in Jackson's direction and held up a hand to demonstrate that he had heard the captain. "But what's stopping them from coming back?" Jamie challenged Stiles before jogging over to join the rest of the team, the claw marks and Jackson had truly distracted him from Clark. Stiles took his seat on the bench, staring after Jamie's retreating figure with a frown on his face unable to determine whether he was being paranoid by considering the possibility that Jamie hadn't been talking about normal wolves.
Meanwhile, Clark was storming away from the busy lacrosse field, every step purposeful and full of power as an attempt to channel his anger into the ground. He had no idea where he was going but he knew he had to get away from the lacrosse field. Only a couple of weeks ago, he didn't care for lacrosse but suddenly it felt like the end of the world that he had been benched. He tried to focus on clenching and unclenching his fists to further channel and control his anger but in reality he had no idea what he was doing. Laura had been the one who had helped him with his anger and control; she'd found a solution for him but Clark knew that that solution had disappeared the moment the Hales had started to leave Beacon Hills. His anchor was done; now only filling him with more rage if he tried to focus on it and his control was getting worse by the day.
He needed to get away from the field. He needed to find somewhere he could clear his head but having only recently returned to his childhood town, nowhere came to mind. "Clark! Hold up!" Clark sighed when he heard someone calling his name behind him. It was just what he needed; someone chasing after him. It wasn't Jamie, like he had been expecting it to be when considering the possibility of someone coming after him. It was a fellow American but with a slightly more matured tone. Unable to place his pursuer by voice alone, Clark turned around to face him and was slightly surprised to see his history teacher gaining on him.
The surprise, at least, proved a slight distraction from the anger he had built up towards lacrosse allowing him to grip on to his control and avoid attacking his innocent teacher. His heart was still beating fast, his body still seething with frustration and his fists were still clenched but he wasn't cutting into his palms with sharp claws and he was fairly sure that his eyes were their normal brown as opposed to a glowing yellow so that was a plus. "Mr Kenneth. You're going to miss the game," Clark shot at him bitterly before turning to set off on his way again.
"So are you," Mr Kenneth returned in a laid-back manner and Clark sighed before turning back to him because it was apparent he wasn't going to give in that easily. The young teacher was stood casually with his hands stuck in the pockets in of his dark blue jeans and was watching Clark with a friendly smile on his face.
"Coach dropped me from first line. He's playing Jake Miller instead. I'm not going to waste my time sitting there watching other people play," Clark replied coldly.
"Yes, you are," Mr Kenneth responded, not in an authoritative tone but in a way that said 'and you're going to do so because you want to'. "That's what I'm going to do," he added with a shrug.
"But you're a spectator. That's the whole point. You're here because you want to watch," Clark argued and hesitated, frowning as a thought popped into his head, before adding, "Or they pay you overtime to be here?"
Mr Kenneth chuckled at the student's afterthought. "I wish," he responded with a laugh and a shake of his head. Then his smile faded as he returned to the topic at hand. "I'm a spectator. You're a team member." Clark opened his mouth to argue but Mr Kenneth raised a hand, effectively stopping him. "Just because you're not starting this game doesn't mean you're not on the team. You played basketball at your last school so-"
"How do you know that?" Clark cut him off to challenge his knowledge, somewhat accusingly.
"I read through the file your last school sent over," Mr Kenneth explained. "Not all teachers bother. I guess I'm just new and enthusiastic. They say it won't last. Anyway, being this school's basketball coach, I had been hoping you'd join the team. We need all the help we can get. But I get it; friends can be particularly persuasive…" he caught himself taking the conversation far from his original point. "Anyway, you've played a team game before. You shouldn't need me to tell you that being part of a team isn't just about playing. It's about being a team. Supporting each other. Tell me I'm wrong."
Clark didn't respond immediately but Mr Kenneth knew that he had backed him into a corner and did all he could to keep a straight face and fight the smug smile tugging at his lips. "I can't." Clark eventually responded exactly as Mr Kenneth expected.
With Clark's admission he allowed the smug smile to appear on his face and folded his arms, "So, where are you going?"
Clark hesitated again before reluctantly answering, "Back to the game."
Mr Kenneth nodded with a satisfied grin. Job done.
-TW:H-
Clark returned to the lacrosse field as the two teams were preparing themselves for the start of the game. He nodded at Mr Kenneth in appreciation as the teacher left him to search for a spare seat in the packed bleachers. He took a seat next to Stiles, joining Scott's best friend and a few other players on the bench. "Your friend," Stiles nodded towards Jamie who was on the field keeping himself on his toes as he waited for the whistle, "has been asking questions about the damage to the bench."
"Don't worry about him. He'll believe anything I tell him," Clark responded dismissively as his eyes scanned the field, landing on Jackson who had taken up his starting position next to the referee, waiting for the opposing team's captain to join them.
Stiles was about to respond when the presence of a hand clasping down on his left shoulder stopped him from doing so. He glanced around to see his dad. "Hey kid," Noah greeted, bringing Clark's attention to the Sheriff's presence. Stiles returned the greeting whilst Clark gave him a short nod as a form of acknowledgment before turning back to the field, locating Scott who was readying himself for the game. "So you think you'll see any action tonight?" The sheriff asked his son.
"Action?" Stiles repeated his dad's word and glanced at Clark. "Maybe…" He answered uncertainly as he and Clark shared knowing and unsure looks. Clark hastily looked back to Scott, determined to keep a close eye on the new werewolf for the entirety of the game, as the Sheriff left to find himself a seat.
The referee blew his whistle and the game started well for the Cyclones with Jackson winning the face-off. "Yes! Start as you mean to go on," Clark muttered to himself in celebration, not noticing himself shuffling forward until he was literally on the edge of his seat watching the team put some good passes together.
Four minutes in and the game was going considerably well. The Cyclones had maintained most of the possession of the ball and the opposing team had hardly threatened their goal at all. The only annoying part for Clark was that Jake had been playing considerably well and had even made the first shot at goal, only for it to be stopped by the opposing team's goalkeeper making a sensational save. A few supporters had been on their feet celebrating too early when Jake had first made the shot and Coach had sent some encouraging praise in Jake's direction despite him not scoring.
The ball was loose on the ground, neither team in possession and it looked as if Scott was finally going to touch the ball. For the opening four minutes, Scott had essentially been a ghost, not getting involved in the game at all and Clark had been more than happy for that to continue for the rest of the game. As Scott neared the ball, Clark found himself hoping he wouldn't try and do anything with it. Just pass the ball and move on, Clark thought to himself before Scott had even reached it and moments before Jackson appeared out of nowhere, shouldering Scott onto the ground. Jackson scooped the ball up for himself and, through on goal, made a shot, effectively beating the keeper in a way Jake had not.
In any other circumstance, Clark would have been on his feet instantly celebrating Jackson's goal. Instead he found his eyes were fixed firmly on Scott, hopping and praying that the new wolf didn't lose control and tear his best friend to shreds.
As the crowd, Coach, Jackson and most of the team celebrated, Scott pushed himself back onto his feet. Clark could see that Scott was looking in Jackson direction but because of the protective helmets, Clark had no way of reading his facial expression. Beside him, Stiles groaned in frustration - anyone would think the other team had scored - and turned away from the field. A big sign being held up in the bleachers which read 'We luv u Jackson' caught Stiles' attention and he groaned when he noticed it was being held up by Lydia and Allison. "Brutal," Stiles winced as he turned back to the field to check on Scott who had also noticed it and was shaking his head disapprovingly. "Oh, this is not going to be good."
Clark was busy focusing on Jackson who had called all the team - except for Scott - to him for a discussion. Zoning in, Clark just about caught the end of the conversation with Danny reluctantly saying "Don't pass to McCall" before the group disbanded and readied themselves to go again.
Despite the promising start, things took a turn for the worse. The Cyclones' first goal gave the opposition the motivation that they needed to focus up and grow into the game. With only one minute and twenty-nine seconds left they were three-five down with Jackson scoring two of their goals and no other than Jake Miller scoring the third.
"This isn't good," Clark muttered, picking up on Scott's low growls as he waited for the whistle. His frustration had only been getting higher and higher as the game had gone on and he'd had no sight of the ball. The opposing team member nearest to Scott had obviously picked up on it too for he took some nervous steps back, increasing the distance between them.
Stiles was nervously chewing on one of his gloves as his eyes watched Scott like a hawk. "You've got a plan in case he wolfs out, right?" He checked with Clark.
"Not exactly," Clark admitted slowly.
Stiles did a double-take in his direction before demanding, "What do you mean 'not exactly'?"
"I'm not good with plans. I leave that sort of thing to Derek and his plan involved not letting Scott play the game at any cost," Clark explained. "He didn't plan for this and I have no idea what to do because, believe it or not, I had a mostly normal life back in New York and didn't have to deal with problems like this every single day!"
"You're so helpful," Stiles commented sarcastically.
"I don't see you being much help either!" Clark shot back.
Scott was looking past the arguing boys and into the crowd, making Stiles glance around to work out what he had spotted. Lydia and Allison were back on their feet with yet another sign, this time one that read 'Jackson is #1'. "Well, that's definitely not helpful," Stiles commented.
Clark turned to see what Stiles was talking about and groaned; not at the sign that the girls were holding up but at the presence of Chris Argent. "Oh perfect. Argent's here. This can't get any worse," Clark muttered as he turned back to the field.
"They can," Stiles assured him as the referee blew his whistle. "And they might."
Clark watched as Jackson lost out on the face-off to his opponent who immediately launched the ball high into the air and in the direction of his own teammates. As that teammate prepared to receive the ball, Scott launched himself in the air, jumping over the opposition player and snatching the ball out of the air at the same time. With possession of the ball for the first time that game, Scott had a point to prove. He weaved through countless players until he had a shot on goal and powered the ball into the back of the net.
Beside Clark, Stiles jumped up in celebration, exclaiming surprised yeses as he punched the air. Clark remained sitting on the bench, gripping onto it tightly with his hands. One wrong move from Scott and the whole field could quickly descend into chaos. The remaining one minute and five seconds could not go fast enough as far as Clark was concerned; a thought he probably shared with the opposition players, supporters and coach.
The resulting face-off was once again won by the opposition team; Scott's latest display of phenomenal ability looked to have thrown Jackson off. The opposition looked to be playing the possession game; putting easy passes together with the plan to run down the clock. At least, it looked that way until one of the players ended up face to face with Scott and ended up throwing him the ball. As Coach joined Stiles to marvel at what had just happened, Scott wasted no time in gaining on the opposing goal, dodging past players with speed and agility. The subsequent shot from his solo run powered straight through the net of the keeper's stick.
As the home crowd celebrated, Coach managed to argue that the goal should still stand and, with thirty-nine seconds left on the clock, Scott had almost single-handedly pegged the team back to five-five.
Scott quickly found himself in possession of the ball again but suddenly stopped running, hunching over and turning his head between the opposing players erratically. The players faltered nervously, looking to each other and waiting for someone else to approach first. Clark avoided the urge to push himself onto his feet. If needed, he would intervene somehow but if he were to invade the pitch and pull Scott off, he was fairly certain Coach would have his head and Argent would grow suspicious. "Come on Scott," he muttered to himself, glancing towards the clock which was slowly ticking down.
7
6
5
Two players either side of Scott grew impatient, making a run at him which sparked him into action.
4
Scott pulled his stick back, readying himself for the shot.
3
Scott flung the ball through the air with power.
2
Everything seemed to go slow motion as everyone fell silent, watching the ball nervously.
1
The ball hit the back of the net.
0
The scoreboard clicked over to six-five as the whistle blew signalling the end of the game. The home supporters and players flew into celebration as it processed that they had scored and won the game. Supporters flocked onto the field whilst Clark found himself celebrating with Stiles, jumping up and down with him and high-fiving.
Clark was about to go off and find Jackson, Danny, Kyle and Jamie to celebrate with when Stiles spoke up, drawing his attention to the Sheriff. "Dad, what's wrong?" Noah was stood only a few feet away from them, his brow furrowed slightly as he spoke into the phone he had by his ear. He held up a finger in Stiles' direction, signalling for him to wait until after the call.
Jamie charged over, an ecstatic grin on his face, and placed a hand down on Clark's shoulder when he reached them. "We won, mate!" He exclaimed. "How crazy was that?"
Clark grinned at him, "I know. What a comeback!"
"Are you going to come and celebrate?" Jamie asked, indicating towards where Danny, Kyle, Jake and most of the other players were gathering and looking ready to find somewhere better than a school field to celebrate. "I don't think Jackson's coming. He seems pissed about having his thunder stolen but pretty much everyone else seems up for it."
"Erm… you go. I might catch you up. We'll see," Clark replied indecisively.
"Alright, well, I'll drop you a text. Let you know where we end up," Jamie responded, already taking steps back towards the team. Clark nodded at him before Jamie turned to jog back to the team.
"What's happened?" Stiles asked eagerly as soon as he saw his dad end the call and return his phone to his pocket.
The Sheriff ignored his son, turning instead to face Clark. "The ME report on your sister's cause of death has come back. It was an animal attack. Derek's been released," Noah informed him gently.
Out of the corner of his eye, Clark saw Stiles' jaw drop and then he left in a hurry, no doubt to report back to Scott.
-TW:H-
A/N: There we have it! Another chapter done and we've finally covered the events of the second episode. Thank you to those who have stuck with me this far, I know it's taking a while to get going but it will all pay off as we go on!
The next chapter will introduce the 'romance' (I use that term really lightly) arc which will be extremely slow burning.