Chapter 6 - Drunk Words Are Sober Thoughts
Scott McCall was currently experiencing one of the worst weeks of his life. He'd gotten caught skipping school, gotten into a huge fight with his best friend, had his biggest secret discovered by his girlfriend's best friend, gotten pelted with lacrosse balls, been pummeled by seniors, gotten detention, watched his werewolf mentor beat his boss to a pulp, then watched the same werewolf mentor get speared and presumably killed by another werewolf, been chased around his school in the dead of night, almost been forced to kill all of his friends, and then been dumped. To say that he was miserable would probably be the biggest understatement he could possibly imagine.
There were currently only two bright spots in his life that were stopping him from crumbling. One of them was Stiles, who had finally forgiven him for not saving the sheriff from his minor car accident. He'd tortured him for a little while on Wednesday, of course, but since then Stiles had been right by his side and ready to support him, whether they were running for their lives from a murderous Alpha, or stuffing their faces so Scott could think about something besides his girlfriend. Or, at least temporarily, his ex-girlfriend.
The other bright spot, much to Scott's surprise, was Sadie Bennet. Sure, they were friends, and he'd known that she was super nice, but he had originally just thought of her as his girlfriend's—ex-girlfriend's—best friend. That's why he'd been a little puzzled when she showed up in his bedroom a week ago, and even more surprised when she decided to stick around, even offered to help him, even though she'd found out that he was a werewolf. It was that interaction that had really shown him how incredible Sadie was. She'd been smart enough to follow the clues, determined enough to make his best friend tell her what was going on, and then been kind enough to accept him despite what he was. Unlike most sane people, she had no qualms about looking past the werewolf part of him and focusing on the teenage boy instead. She hadn't freaked out or been afraid of him, because she didn't think he was a dangerous person, and for that he was eternally grateful.
And if Sadie's acceptance of him hadn't been surprising enough, she'd downright demanded to help. She'd forced him and Stiles to clean up their act, and then walked into a dangerous situation with her head held high, despite the fact that she'd only really known what was going on for a few days. After the initial shock, she'd actually saved their asses with her quick thinking, another thing that made him thankful. Having Sadie as someone else to talk to about, as she'd put it, his "condition" was actually really nice, he'd decided. She'd done incredible amounts of research and reading in order to help, and had the clear, unbiased point of view of someone who hadn't been involved from the get-go. Scott had really meant it when he'd thanked Stiles for telling her.
When Allison had insisted that they take a break in their relationship, he hadn't really spared a thought as to how it would affect his friendship with Sadie. He'd been too heartbroken to really spare a thought for anything except Allison. But when she'd shown up at his house over the weekend, tentative smile on her face and arms full of take out, he was almost as surprised as he'd been when she'd told him she was okay with the fact he was a freaking werewolf. Obviously it would've made sense for her to stop talking to him. She'd been friends with Allison first, and he was pretty sure there was something in the girl code that went against talking to people who hurt your friends. Then again, he didn't exactly speak Girl, so he wasn't one hundred percent sure.
Whether it was in the girl code or not, Sadie had somehow managed to navigate herself into the delicate position of being friends with both Allison and Scott. She'd gone from having a girls' night sleepover to crashing his guy-fest with Stiles, and done so seamlessly of her own free will. He was pretty sure Stiles hadn't known she was coming either, since he'd been trying to cheer Scott up with porn, which had to be quickly stuffed between the couch cushions before Sadie could see it. Either way, Scott was glad she'd come. Together, Sadie and Stiles had been able to distract him from his misery for a few hours. It was the only time he'd really smiled all weekend.
Even so, Scott was unsalvageably despondent. He appreciated Stiles's efforts to cheer him up, but he just didn't feel like talking about his problems. He didn't want to be consoled. He didn't want to get over it. He just wanted Allison back. That was the only way to really take the pain away.
Nevertheless, he'd let Stiles drag him out for one more night of fun before school re-opened the next morning. Of course, drinking himself dumb wasn't really Scott's idea of fun right now, but it was a way to spend time out of the house with Stiles, and away from his extremely concerned mother. If nothing else, Stiles was pretty amusing when he was drunk. And tonight, he was already totally smashed.
"Dude," Stiles slurred, collapsing onto his back and just managing to keep his head from smashing into the rocks. He placed the bottle of Jack Daniels down beside him, already half empty despite the relatively short amount of time they'd been out. "She's just one…one girl! You know, there are so many… There are so many other girls in the sea!" Scott glanced down at his friend briefly before returning to stare at the fire pit they'd made out of a garbage can.
"Fish in the sea," he corrected moodily, watching the flames dance around.
"Fish?" Stiles repeated with wide eyes. "Why are you talking about fish? I'm talking about girls!" He sighed dreamily, and Scott crossed his arms over his chest. Stiles could be funny when he was drunk, but he also seemed to have forgotten that he was supposed to be distracting Scott from the female gender, instead of choosing to talk about nothing else. "I love girls," he mused with a stupid grin on his face. "I love 'em! I love especially ones with strawberry blonde hair…green eyes…five foot three…"
"Like Lydia?" Scott offered blandly.
"Yeah, exactly," Stiles replied, lifting his head up in surprise. "How did you know I was talking about…? About…" He trailed off, his eyes sliding from Scott up to the dark sky and scattered stars. "What was I talking about?" he giggled, and Scott rolled his eyes. Stiles seemed to catch the gesture though, and began swatting his leg feebly. "Hey, you're not happy!" he observed. "Take a drink!"
"I don't want anymore," Scott sighed, making Stiles put the bottle back down with a loud clink.
"You're not drunk?" he slurred. Scott pursed his lips. He wasn't drunk. He was too upset to be drunk. He was too upset to feel anything other than the sinking, compressing feeling in his chest that made him feel like he was slowly dying.
"I'm not anything," he murmured. Stiles flopped onto his back again, tilting his head back so he could watch Scott with glazed eyes.
"Hey! Maybe it's like—Maybe it's like not needing your inhaler anymore, you know?" he offered. "Maybe you can't get drunk…as a wolf…" He trailed off again, eyes sliding in an out of focus. "Am I drunk?" Scott repressed a snort, finally looking down at his friend and shaking his head.
"You're wasted," he assured him, making Stiles's face break in to a huge grin.
"Yeah!" he cheered. He held his arm up with a fist, waiting to bump Scott, but he refused to respond. Stiles's arm dropped back to his side with a resigned sigh. He took another swig from the bottle, spilling slightly over his face since he refused to fully sit up.
Scott looked away, turning back to stare at the flames as they licked the sides of the garbage can. He had to get Allison back. He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he had to. Her words just played in a loop in his head.
"You've been lying all night."
"Don't call, Scott."
"I don't feel like I can trust you anymore."
Of course, she couldn't trust him. Not in the way she wanted to, at least. She could trust him to protect her with everything he had. She could trust that he really did love her. She could trust that he loved her smile, and that it made his day whenever he could make her laugh. But she couldn't trust him to tell her everything. How could he? How could he tell her that he was a werewolf when she came from a family that killed them for a living? She might already know that they existed, hiding her training from him just like he was hiding his abilities from her. Or maybe she didn't know. Maybe if he told her first, she'd be able to understand, like Sadie had understood. But if he told her about werewolves, he'd half to tell her about her family. It was only fair. And he couldn't tell her about that without putting her in the position where she had to choose between her family, and her family's enemy—him. He'd always hated Romeo and Juliet, but it looked like that was what his life was shaping out to be. Why couldn't things be simpler?
He suddenly realized, after several minutes lost in his thoughts, that it'd gone completely quiet. He and Stiles had been sitting in silence for who knew how long, which was weird when they were both sober. And usually when Stiles was drunk, it was literally impossible to get him to shut up. But right now he was still on his back, eyes staring up into the night sky without really seeing anything. Scott turned to him with concern. He knew he was smashed, but he really hoped he wasn't seriously sick or hurt. Scott didn't want to add Stiles's hospitalization down to his list of shitty things that week, especially when he'd been trying to make him feel better.
As if sensing Scott's thoughts, Stiles let his head loll to the side, focusing on him with a troubled look. Scott let out a deep breath. Apparently, Stiles had been just as lost in his thoughts as he'd been.
"I can't get her out of my head, Scott," he whined suddenly, breaking the silence. Scott sighed but turned to face him full on. He kind of hated it when Stiles ranted about Lydia, but he knew he subjected Stiles to the same sort of torture when he went on about Allison. Besides, listening to Stiles complain about his life would at least distract him from thinking about how much his own life currently sucked.
"I know, man," Scott attempted to console, but his voice was flat and monotone.
"I mean, she's just so freaking pretty," Stiles rambled on, screwing up his face as if thinking about her literally caused him pain. "And she has that like blinding smile that makes me forget what I was gonna say, and these big, big eyes with—with really long eyelashes, and it's really distracting cause I feel like I just can't talk to her, you know?"
"Uh huh."
"And she's always wearing these skirts that make her legs look really long, and it's like—like I'm not supposed to be looking at her legs! I'm—I'm 'posed to be looking at her face…when she talks…" He dropped his head back to the rocks, wincing as it made a dull thud.
"Yup," Scott agreed half-heartedly. He did know the feeling. Allison had this one really nice V-neck shirt, and when she wore the right bra with it, he could hardly keep his eyes on her face. In fact…
"And that's another thing!" Stiles was saying. "It's like, I can't even feel okay about it because I know that I should be listening to her! Because she always listens to me, you know? Like—Like when I was talking to her at the hospital, or—or when I was talking to her in her room, or any of the time she always listens to me. She listens to everyone, and it's just—it's so nice. Why does she have to be so nice?"
That made Scott stop short. He raised an eyebrow looking down at his friend in apprehension again. Maybe he'd hit his head harder than he though. Stiles talked about Lydia a lot, but usually he was sober enough to know that "nice" was not one of the best words to describe her. But before he could question it, Stiles was going off again.
"And—And she's funny too!" he said urgently. "And sarcastic and sassy and—and sometimes she thinks I'm funny, and—and I'll say something, you know? I'll say something sarcastic, and you usually just like roll your eyes or something, or people glare at me, but when I say something sarcastic to her she just smiles or she laughs. She's—She's got this really cute laugh where she kinda like—she like shuts her eyes and ducks her head or something, and—and her nose crinkles up and she giggles and it's just… I like it when she laughs. And—And I like it when she makes me laugh! Or when she corrects me about something and just kinda—she just kinda smirks because she wants me to know that I'm wrong but that she's not annoyed about it or something. Scott, did—did you know that she's really smart?"
"Um, yeah," he agreed slowly. He knew that Lydia was probably the smartest girl in their grade, if not the whole school. Stiles liked to talk about how good she was at math, and how she was going to be valedictorian. He had no idea what he meant by Lydia smirking when she corrected him. If she ever spoke to him about anything, he would've imagined her face more like a sneer, or maybe a grimace. But if Stiles was drunk enough to delude himself that Lydia thought he was funny, Scott wasn't about to bring him down.
"God, she's so smart," Stiles sighed, rolling onto his side so he could face Scott. "She just—She knows the answers to like everything and she doesn't even have to try! It's like…her head is just this giant huge encyc—encyclopedy-thing. Because she's so smart. She's like—she's like life-smart. Like, she knows what she's supposed to do and what she's supposed to say and how she's supposed to act and—and she just knows, man. Like, she knows how people work and why they work and what they… I don't—I don't even know… She's a lot smarter than me, cause—cause I can be pretty stupid."
He snorted drunkenly. Scott wanted to laugh too, but he couldn't quite manage it. He just stared at Stiles in concern. When he talked about Lydia, he usually had a sort of script. He didn't know it, but Scott had heard the same facts about Lydia in the same order with only slight variations in adjectives for several years. Tonight, Stiles was way, way off script.
"Sometimes—Sometimes I like, I don't even know if she's real, you know? Cause like, she's smart and she's pretty and she's brave." When he saw Scott's shocked expression, he flailed slightly, trying to get up but not currently coordinated enough to do so. "No, really!" he insisted. "She's like super brave. I know you might not think so, cause of the stuff you deal with and whatever, but she's not used to that! And she just does stuff and tries to stay calm and rational and doesn't—doesn't think twice about it. Cause it's scary, but she's protective of people. She's like—She's like a superhero! Sort of… I mean, you're more like a superhero, or you're supposed to be, but—but she kind of is… And she likes superheroes. That's another thing I like about her. That she likes superheroes. Do you 'member that time she talked about superheroes?" Scott shook his head. He definitely could not remember a single time Lydia Martin had stooped to talk about something as nerdy as superheroes. "O-Oh, okay well—well that was a thing!" Stiles insisted. "That was a thing that happened! And it was like, super attractive. Cause I didn't think she knew anything about stuff like that, cause you know, you look at her and you don't think that she would know anything about stuff like that because she's hot. But then she started talking and she did! And she knows—she knows about movies and she knows about monsters and she knows about music and she knows about movies…wait I…I think I already said that… D-Did I already say that…?"
He trailed off, flopping back onto his back as Scott stared at him quizzically. Stiles was either way more drunk than it was safe to be, or he'd finally cracked and gone off the deep end. Scott was sure Lydia did know a thing or two about music and movies, but nothing that would excite Stiles. He wasn't really sure what was going on at the moment.
"Anyway, the comic book thing was attractive," Stiles picked up, as if he'd never stopped speaking. "Like one second it was normal levels of attraction and the next it was like 'WOOOAH' through the roof levels of attraction. And I kinda got caught thinking about her in like—in like a Batgirl costume or something? Cause like…shit man, that would be hot. I—I really have to learn to control my thoughts around her, cause it's gonna get really awkward like really fast. Cause I just, like I can't turn off my brain, you know?" Scott nodded absent-mindedly, still watching his friend with narrowed eyes. "And I keep dreaming about her, and then I see her in reality and I just flashback to whatever dream-her was doing, but dream-her is not real-her and then sometimes I forget that—that I'm talking to real-her and not dream-her and I have to stop myself from thinking about dream-her before I freak real-her out." Scott shook his head, trying to follow the sentence that Stiles had spewed out at the speed of light, but he hadn't been able to piece together all of the prefixed pronouns before Stiles went off again. "Like last night! Fuck… I mean, I know that—that you told me that I'm not supposed to tall you what I think about when I'm in bed or like, what happens when I dream, but like, it's hard man." Stiles hiccupped and subsided into a giggle fit. "N-Not—Not that hard… Well, I mean, obviously that hard too, but I mean like, diff—difficu…"
"Difficult?" Scott offered hesitantly.
"Yeah!" Stiles cheered. "That! Because I mean, I had a pretty vivid imagination before, but—but ever since she did that thing, I just…"
"Thing?" Scott repeated. "What thing?"
"Y-You know," Stiles waved him off airily. "The—The key thing."
"What key thing?" Scott pressed, now completely lost. Stiles eyes widened and he shook his head slightly in disbelief.
"The key thing where she stuck her hand down my pants, Scott!" Scott felt his mouth open and close like a fish, completely wordless. Either Stiles had forgotten to tell him something very, very important, or the conversation they were currently having was one Scott hadn't realized the real topic of. Before he could form a sentence, Stiles rambled on. "I mean, I'm really proud of my overactive imaginy-ation thing, but I've never had something like that happen to me before. I mean, she pushed me into a wall, and she was like pressed up against me, and I could feel—I could feel her chest, and then she slid her hand into my pocket and it was like my brain fucking exploded. I—I mean, like, she just slipped her hand into my pants and she was breathing on my neck and do you—do you know how close her hand was to my dick? It was really close, Scott. It was really fucking close, like closer than any hand has ever been before besides mine. And I like—I didn't even notice she took my keys cause the whole time I was just thinking, 'You know, not what I was expecting but totally, totally worth it. Like, I really hope she's giving me a sorry-we're-about-to-die handjob right now, because that would totally be the best way to go.'"
"Woah, woah, woah!" Scott finally burst, waving his hands in front of him violently. "Handjob?! Stiles, what the hell are you talking about?!" Stiles raised his eyebrows and stared at Scott as if he was the dumbest person he'd ever seen.
"Well, Scott," he giggled, letting out another hiccup. "A handjob is when someone takes their hands and…"
"No!" Scott groaned, cutting off his explanation. "Seriously, dude! Who are you talking about?!" Stiles furrowed his brow and dropped onto his back once more, looking at Scott upside down.
"I'm talking about Sadie," he said, as if that were obvious. "Who did you think I was talking about?"
Scott felt his eyebrows disappear under his hair. He knew that Stiles was attracted to Sadie, sure. He was his best friend. It was his job to notice those things. Plus, he could hear Stiles's heartbeat, how it jumped a little whenever Sadie showed up, or when he took the time to look over her outfit. But he'd generally dismissed it as Stiles's normal reaction to attractive girls. He wasn't used to being friends with females, and he saw Sadie a lot more than he was used to. But besides a few joked he'd cracked, which Stiles had dismissed, Scott had never paused to think about how Stiles might actually feel about her. He wouldn't have guessed it would merit a ten-minute speech so passionate that Scott thought he was talking about the girl he'd had a crush on for the last seven years.
"Honestly?" Scott replied. "I thought you were just talking about Lydia again." He saw Stiles's eye sparkle a little bit at the name as he tried to sit up.
"Lydia? Yeah, I can talk about Lydia. I mean she's just so…"
"No, no, no!" Scott cut him off frantically. "No, let's keep talking about Sadie!"
"Oh, okay," Stiles agreed easily, giving up on the sitting position so he was sprawled out unevenly over the rocks. Scott let out a sigh of relief.
He'd always tried to encourage Stiles in his pursuit of the queen bee. Okay, maybe not encourage him, but he'd actively tried to not discourage him. It wasn't because he thought Lydia was too good for him, or out of his league. He'd just always seemed to put her on a bit of a pedestal. Scott could see that Lydia had some good qualities, but she also had some pretty major character flaws. She could be shallow, vindictive, arrogant, manipulative, and sometimes just downright scary. Stiles had always been willing to look past that. And Scott thought that was nice, after all no one was perfect, but Stiles was almost too willing to let it slide. Scott had almost lost hope that eventually, Stiles might find someone a little better for him. And apparently, there was a chance he'd found that in Sadie Bennet.
That thought actually made Scott perk up slightly. He was still miserable, but not maybe it wasn't such of an understatement. He knew, of course, that Sadie liked Stiles. She was in total denial about it, but he'd been able to heartbeat since he met her, and he'd begun to notice how each time she saw Stiles, it beat it a little louder than the last time she'd seen him. He would have been willing to pass it off in the same way he had with Stiles, if it hadn't been for her trip to his house to play video games. By that point he was looking for it. He could see her flirting with him, see her blush when they hugged for just a second too long, even if he hadn't heard her heart skip a beat. But just to be sure, he'd called her out on it. Her wide eyes and heart rate spiking as she pretended there was nothing abnormal about her heartbeat had confirmed it, though. Whether or not she knew it, Sadie was attracted to Stiles. And judging by the way his best friend's heart had been trilling as he watched her leave the room, the hand she'd been holding reaching up to touch the spot where she'd tapped him on the cheek, Stiles was pretty attracted to her too.
"Uh, sorry man," Scott apologized, turning to face his friend on the ground. "I mean, I had no idea you liked her."
"Yeah," Stiles sighed forlornly, before his eyes widened. "No! I mean…I—I don't know. I don't know what I mean."
"Well," Scott chuckled. "You were just ranting about how amazing she is for like ten minutes, dude. I'm pretty sure you like her."
"Scotty," he whined. "Things—Things are just not that simple. They're not that simple, man."
"What's not simple about it?"
"Lydia!" Stiles reminded him desperately. "I still like her. Like a lot. Like I'm still in like with Lydia."
"You mean you're still attracted to Lydia," Scott corrected hopefully, but Stiles rocked his head back and forth on the stone, a wide, flowing denial.
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," he chanted. "Das different. That—That just means I think she'd pretty. Which she is, you know, she's so pretty, but she's also so smart and so mean and so strong. That's why I'm in like with her."
"Okay?" Scott replied, knitting his eyebrows together. "But, you said that you thought of Sadie like that too. You said she was really smart and funny and nice and brave and stuff so… Are you, uh…'in like' with her too?"
"Maybe," Stiles groaned, pressing his cheek into the smooth stone slab beneath him. Scott's face broke out into a grin. Even if he hadn't completely accepted the idea yet, Stiles had admitted there was at least a possibility that he could like Sadie just as much as he liked Lydia, and that was major progress. Unfortunately, Scott's smile was wiped off his face by his friend's next words. "I don't know. It doesn't r-really matter anyway."
"Wh-What?" Scott asked quickly. "Why wouldn't that matter?"
"Because Sadie's my friend," he explained in a childish voice. "She's hot and she's awesome, but she's my friend so it doesn't matter."
"Why?" Scott demanded. "If you guys are friends and you like the same things and you get along, doesn't that just mean you're even better for each other?"
"Ha! No," Stiles responded, pushing himself up onto his elbows and letting his head loll back so he could look at the stars. "What it means is that we've spent too much time with Sadie for her to consider us as anything other than her bros. We're probably drowning in the deep end of the friend-zone at this point. Not that it matters to you or anything."
"I-I don't think that's true," Scott stammered. "I think you could still do it."
"Scott," Stiles snorted, "she came over to play video games with us. How many girls do you know that pig out and play video games with guys they're interested in dating? You know—Don't—Don't answer that. The answer's zero."
"No!" Scott wanted to yell. "One! And it's Sadie! She totally likes you and you totally like her and you two should totally be together and you should totally do something about it like right now!" But he knew that he couldn't do that. Because that would violate his friendship with Sadie. He thought back to what she'd said to him when he realized that he loved Allison.
"I'm here for advice, and I'm playing both sides, but your feelings for her are between you two. You tell her in your own time, and you can deal with it then. I promise, I'm not gonna say anything."
And she hadn't. Of course, maybe if he'd told Allison how he felt, he wouldn't currently be sitting in a field trying to drink to forget her, but that was beside the point. The point was that Sadie had kept her word to him. And what kind of a friend would it make him if he told Stiles about Sadie's feelings for him before she was ready to deal with him? Before she was ready to deal with her feelings herself? It would make him a terrible friend. And considering how much shit Sadie had already gone through being his friend, he felt like he had to do something to return the favor. But how did you get two people together without telling them that they liked each other?
Scott looked down at his forlorn best friend, splayed out on the ground with his limb thrown hap hazardously in all directions. He was staring up at the sky again, mumbling to himself so quietly that even Scott couldn't quite catch what he was saying. He could hear the words "Lydia" and "Sadie," along with "smile," "hair," and "skirt." Scott pursed his lips as he watched Stiles's frame shiver. Personally, he couldn't really feel the cold anymore, but he imagined Stiles must be freezing, even with the fire and the alcohol in his system. It was pretty late, and they'd been out for hours on a particularly chilly night. It almost felt like winter.
Scott's eyes suddenly widened as an idea struck him, and he looked from the fire back to Stiles.
"Why don't you ask her to the winter formal?"
"Wha?" Stiles attempted to ask, tilting his head back to look at Scott again. "Who?"
"Sadie," he replied patiently. "Ask her to the dance."
"Duuuude," Stiles dragged out. "Didn't you heeear what I was sayiiiing? I can't do it. It's—It's physically impossible for her to like me like that."
"Duuuude, no it's not," Scott drawled mockingly. "Besides, being her date to the dance doesn't have to be a huge thing. Maybe it turns into something, maybe it doesn't, but at least you get her for the night." Stiles reached up to put his arms behind his head.
"I don't know," he sighed again. Scott rolled his eyes. He should have figured it was going to take a massive amount of convincing to get Stiles to do anything. He knew he was pretty self-conscious, that he didn't believe Sadie could ever like him because he wasn't good enough, not just because she only saw him as a friend. But Scott had to get him to ask her, and he had to do it while Stiles was drunk, otherwise he'd be entirely too aware and afraid of what he was doing.
"Okay," Scott sighed, ready for another attack. "How are you gonna feel if Lydia goes to formal with Jackson?"
"If Lydia goes to the formal with Jackson?" Stiles replied skeptically. Scott shrugged his shoulders.
"Yeah. How would you feel?" Stiles groaned, pushing himself up into a sitting position and holding a hand to his head.
"I don't know. Normal? I mean, I'd be like disa…disappointed but it's not like I didn't know it was gonna happen anyway."
"Okay," Scott repeated with a nod. "And how are you gonna feel when Sadie, who is completely new and complete single, winds up getting asked to the dance by someone like Dylan Peters?" Stiles's jaw instantly locked at the name, and Scott cheered internally.
"Sadie hates Peters," Stiles practically growled. "She wouldn't go with him."
"That's not gonna stop him from asking," Scott pointed out. "And do you really think he's gonna take 'I just don't like you' as a decent response? She's never gonna hear the end of it."
"Then why don't you go with her?" Stiles bit bitterly. Scott pursed his lips again.
"Hopefully by formal I'll have Allison back." Stiles attempted to roll his eyes, but didn't have the control. He rolled his head instead, then let it sink into his hands as the world assumedly spun around him. "Look," Scott urged. "Sadie's closer with you than any other guy at school. Either you sit back and watch her go with some dumbass lacrosse dude Lydia picks out for her, or you can take her yourself. She has a great time because she likes spending time with you, you—you get her flowers, you guys dance, and she gets to look at you in a whole new way. Just ask her out."
Stiles was silent for several minutes after that. He stretched his arms back behind him, leaning back so he could look up at the nearly full moon. Scott could see the wheels turning in his head, see his imagination working as he pictured actually getting to take Sadie to the dance.
"You really think so?" he muttered a few minutes later.
"Stiles, I'm begging you," he implored. "Please ask Sadie to the dance." Stiles nodded slowly, each beat picking up the pace until he was waving his head around manically.
"Yeah," he agreed. "Yeeeaaah. I'll just ask her. Imma ask Sadie to the dance. Sadie's gonna be my date to the dance. How the fuck do I ask Sadie to the dance?" His hand shot out again quickly, grabbing the half empty bottle of whiskey and downing another dangerously large gulp. Scott snatched the bottle back. The last thing he needed was for Stiles to get sick and pass out.
"Dude, just call her okay?" he instructed. "Call her and say, uh, 'Hey Sadie. I was just thinking about you, and I wanted to know if you wanted to be my date for the winter formal.'"
"Right, 'kay," Stiles agreed, bobbing his head again. "Hiya Saaadie. I was—I was just talking to Scott about you—well about you and Lydia, cause you know…"
"No!" Scott groaned, smacking him on the shoulder. "Don't talk about Lydia. Just Sadie. You're asking Sadie to the formal because you want Sadie to be your date."
"Woah, yeah, right, yes," Stiles conceded, eyes crossing as he nodded again. "Okay. Imma call her. Where…Where is my phone?" Scott winced, running a hand through his hair as Stiles patted the ground around him.
"Right pants pocket, Stiles," he reminded him, making his friend beam.
"Heyyy yeah! Thanks, buddy." He pulled the phone out of his pocket, which Scott quickly grabbed from his hand. The last thing he needed was for Stiles to call the wrong person. He dialed Sadie's number, and then handed the phone back to his friend. Stiles tried to wink with a cheesy grin, and Scott shook his head. This was probably gonna be a disaster.
A few seconds later, Stiles pulled the phone away from his ear, staring down at it with a hurt expression.
"She didn't pick up!" he whined. Scott furrowed his brows.
"What? Why not?"
"I don't—ohhhhhhh," he realized, nodding sagely. "You know what? It's probably because she's out with Allison." Scott's stomach twisted at the name, but he tried to push the feeling down. Focus on Stiles and Sadie. "It's fine," Stiles dismissed, waving the phone and nearly tossing it aside. "I'll just ask her tomorrow."
"No!" Scott shouted. He knew full well that Stiles would probably kill him for convincing him to call Sadie when he was drunk, and he would never have the courage to ask her out sober. He had to do it now. "Just—Just call her again."
"Fiiiiine," Stiles sighed. He pressed redial and brought the phone back up to his ear. But this time, Sadie picked up.
"Hello?" Scott heard her ask though the phone. Stiles's face broke into a huge grin.
"Saaaadiiiieee!" he cheered, making Scott rest his head in his hands again. "Hey! Sadie! We—We were just talking about you, Sadie! How did you know?!"
"Stiles," she sighed. "You called me."
"Oh!" Stiles piped, before falling onto his back in hysterics. Scott grabbed his shoulder, pushing him back up into a sitting position before Stiles batted his arm away. "You're right! I did! I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Sadie."
"It's fine," she assured him kindly. "What's up?"
"The sky!" Stiles giggled, and Scott resisted the urge to shove him again. "I'm out here with Scott! Scottay! Ha!" He held up his hand for another fist bump, which Scott ignored again, jabbing his finger at the phone. Stiles's face turned comically serious and he nodded dutifully.
"How drunk are you two?" Sadie asked skeptically, and Stiles gave a loud snort.
"Me? Psh, I'm not drunk. I-I-I am completely sober!" He promptly hiccupped again, making Scott roll his eyes. "And—And Scott! Scott is so, so, so, so, so not drunk! He's—He's like not even tipsy! He had some, but he's like…he's like that guy who…who gets the super strength? And he drinks and drinks but his super metabolism is so far up that he burns up the alcohol and can't get drunk? The uh… The soldier guy…with the shield…"
"Captain America?" Sadie offered, and Scott grinned. Good. She could talk about superheroes. That would keep him focused on her.
"Ah! Yes! Thank you, Sadie!" Stiles exclaimed with a grin. "I-I love it when you talk comic book. Can you talk more about comic books? That's like super awesome. I love it." Scott strained his ears, wishing he could hear heartbeats through the phone. Instead, all he heard was Sadie's reply.
"Stiles, why are you calling me?"
"Right!" Stiles chirped, getting back on topic. "Why…? Why…Why did I call you…?" His eyes widened as he pulled the phone away from his mouth and turned to Scott with fearful eyes. "Scott, why did I call Sadie?" Scott nearly glared, crossing his arms over his chest and taking a deep, controlling breath.
"You're asking her to be your date to the winter formal," he reminded him calmly, trying to keep his voice low. Stiles's eyes doubled in size as he nodded violently.
"Oh! Right! That's why I called you! I remember now, Sadie!"
"That's great, Stiles," she replied, and Scott thought she sounded a bit like a kindergarten teacher talking to her students. "So why did you call me?"
"Because we were talking about girls! Girls, right? Like, Scott was talking about Allison, and then I was talking about Lydia!" he cheered. Scott felt his stomach drop, but before he could stop him, Stiles rambled on. "B-Because you know, I-I love Lydia! You know? Cause she's so pretty and smart and sassy!"
"Yeah, Stiles, I know," Sadie replied dejectedly. Scott punched Stiles in the shoulder, making him squeal in pain.
"Stop talking about Lydia!" he hissed as Stiles grabbed at his shoulder.
"Ow! Scott, shush! I'm sorry!" he grumbled, then turned back to the phone. "Shh! Yeah! So I was talking about Lydia, and then I was talking about you!" There was a beat of dead silence on the other side of the phone, and Scott nearly sighed in relief. He'd pulled it back.
"Oh?" Sadie choked out, and Stiles nodded.
"Yeah! Cause you're Lydia's best friend and you're amazing! And then Scott—Scott came up with this—this incredible idea!" Scott clenched his jaw again, wishing Stiles had been drunk enough to ramble just for a little bit about how pretty and smart and sassy he thought Sadie was, but at least they were getting to the point.
"And what's that?"
"Let's go to formal together!" Stiles cheered, throwing his arms up in the air.
The response wasn't immediate. In fact, for a moment, Scott thought Stiles might have accidentally disconnected the call. Sadie was silent, until a rustle on the other end finally prompted her into action.
"S-Stiles, you're drunk," she dismissed nervously.
"Nooo!" he whined. "And even if I was, it was Scott's idea so you know it's a good idea, and he's sober!"
"Wow, that's comforting," she shot sarcastically. "Cause the plans you and Scott come up with when you're both sober are great." Stiles burst into another fit of laughter, looking fondly down at his phone before pulling himself back to earth.
"Sadie!" he sang. "Pleeeease be my date? We—We can take my Jeep and I'll get you flowers and I'll let you make me wear one of those things that match your dress or something and it will be lots and lots and lots of fun!" He paused, letting her take in the information as Scott grinned. Perfect. He'd done it. And then as usual, Stiles opened his mouth, and ruined everything. "Come on, Sadie! We'd be like the coolest couple there! We're friends so you have to!"
"Friends?" she repeated, and Scott could literally hear the disappointment in her voice from miles away.
"Yeah!" Stiles shouted again. "You and Scott are like my best friends! And I'm not going with Scott, and I can't go with Lydia, so I wanna go with my other favorite girl in the universe!" Scott's jaw dropped in horror and anger. And Stiles was worried that Sadie was going to friend-zone him? He'd just told her straight out that he thought of her in the same way he thought of Scott, and Scott sincerely hoped that Stiles didn't feel the same way about him that he felt about Sadie. He groaned, letting his head sink into his arms as Stiles effectively shipwrecked the plan.
"Well that was certainly charming," Sadie bit, but Stiles missed the annoyance in her voice.
"Please, please, please," he was chanting. "Please, please, please…"
"Alright!" she cut him off. "Fine!"
"Yes!" Stiles screeched, so loudly that Scott had to cover his ears, before he backpedaled. "Wait, no! You have to say it!"
"What? Yes?" she asked with confusion. Stiles leaned back on his arms and threw his head up again, smile still blazing.
"Repeat after me! I, Sadie Bennet…"
"No!" Sadie protested. "Stiles, I'm not gonna…"
"I, Sadie Bennet…!" he repeated louder. Scott heard her sigh reluctantly on the other line before grumbling along.
"I, Sadie Bennet…"
"Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"
"Stiles!"
"Sadie!"
"Ugh. Promise the amazing Stiles Stilinski…"
"That I will be his date to the winter formal." She hesitated only for a moment.
"…That I will be his date to the winter formal…" There was some sort of scuffle on her end of the line, but Scott couldn't make it out through Stiles's loud whooping.
"Wooh! I have a date to formal!"
"Will that be all?" she asked properly, making him giggle into the phone.
"Yes. Thank you, Sadie," he replied, staring down at his phone with a sickly sweet expression. Scott wished desperately that he could just take a picture and send it to Sadie. There was no way he could deny liking her when he looked like that.
"Whatever," she dismissed. "Please go sleep off all that alcohol now."
"Yes ma'am!" he agreed. "Buh-bye Bennet!"
"Yeah. Later, Stilinski."
"Hey! Hey, Sadie! I love—I love you!" he cheered, then pouted at the phone. "Oh. She hung up."
"Yeah," Scott agreed in slight annoyance. "Yeah, she did."
"Why did she hang up?" Stiles asked, scratching absent-mindedly at his forehead. Scott sighed, trying to resist the urge to slap him sober.
"Probably because you compared her me. And then, not only did you ask her as friends, you asked her as a last resort." Stiles flipped the phone in his hands, staring down at the ground.
"…Shit…" he muttered after a few seconds. "I…really fucked that up…"
"Yeah," Scott confirmed. "You kinda did."
"Man, I need a drink," Stiles groaned, swiping the bottle of Jack Daniels back from the ground.
Scott forced a small smile onto his face. So Stiles had accidentally asked Sadie to the dance as friends. Even drunk he was too nervous to ask her out properly. But that was okay. At least they were going together. They had months before the dance. It would take a little work, sure. But Scott now had two missions in life. Get Allison back, and get Stiles and Sadie together. Then everyone could be happy.
A/N: Whew! There you go everyone! The chapter you've all been waiting for! I'd like to point out that this is something I was never actually planning on writing this. It was just supposed to be a hint that Stiles might feel something for her, but it's now been written by popular demand. Damn you guys are persistent! Haha. So I hope that you enjoyed it. It came out a LOT longer than I was intending, but that's life. And this is the way my writing usually goes.
Let me know what you thiiiiink! It would please Drunk!Stiles immensely. ;)
-Brittney
