Chapter 10 - That Damn Hat - Stiles
"Well, thank you for this incredibly exhausting and traumatizing night," Sadie teased as we pulled up to her house. She'd moved into the front seat after we'd dropped Scott off, and hadn't stopped rambling about our entire fiasco with Dr. Fenris since. She was pretending to be upset, but I was pretty sure it was mostly the ebbing shock and adrenaline talking.
"Hey, at least I drove," I offered. "And I'm not making you pay me for gas." Sadie rolled her eyes, slinging her purse over her shoulder and gracefully sliding out the passenger door of the Jeep.
"What a gentleman," she snorted, slamming the door behind her. She turned back around with a smirk, though, pausing to pat the door and give me a taunting glare through the open window. "Just try not to break any more laws between here and your house, 'kay hot shot?"
"Ha ha! Thank you, Sadie. You're very funny," I bit sarcastically. She simply winked and turned on her heel, long strides carrying her quickly towards the house. "You know—You know—Why don't you try to—to not break any laws, huh?" I called after her. "Between here and…your house…" If she heard my truly terrible excuse for a comeback, she didn't reply. Instead she sent me one more infuriating smirk and then ducked inside the front door. I stared at it for a few seconds, even after she was gone. "Great job, Stiles," I grumbled, drumming my hands on my steering wheel. "Try not to commit any felonies in the time it takes you to walk from my car to your front door, Sadie. That's real likely. Real smooth." I moodily kicked the car back into motion pulling out into the street at a respectable speed. I already had assault and breaking and entering charges under my belt for the night. The last thing I needed was for my dad to give me a speeding ticket.
I let out a long sigh as I thought through all the information we'd managed to get from Fenris. He was another one who said there was no cure for werewolves. Well, except his bright little joke about cutting people in half, which none of us had really found that cute. I had zero plans about cutting or letting someone else cut Scott in half. Originally, I'd also had zero plans about working with Derek in any way shape or form. Honestly, I was really annoyed that the guy wasn't dead. He was just a thousand different kinds of creepy, and the whole hulking and brooding thing didn't make me any keener to trust him. Scott figured that, since Derek was the only werewolf we knew, he was the expert on werewolves. Even if Fenris hadn't heard of a cure ever in his life after years and years of tireless research, Scott was willing to take the chance that Derek knew something he didn't just because he was born a werewolf. I thought that was probably one of the stupidest decisions ever in the history of creation, but I knew why he was doing it. He desperate for a cure, not just to get out of the whole time-of-the-month deal, but because being a werewolf meant not being with Allison. Or at least, not being with Allison easily. Scott was willing to risk working with Derek if it meant saving his relationship, and I knew that I was going to have to stand by Scott, if only to keep him from getting himself killed. Besides, Scott's hesitant trust of the stalker wolf was better than Sadie's completely baseless faith in him.
That was one of the things that bothered me most about him. I mean, obviously I was concerned in the broader sense because he was a freaking weirdo with claws who seemed just fine hurting and threatening people, but he'd also been weirdly interested in Sadie from the start. We'd never gotten a real answer from him about why he'd talked to her at the library, why he'd talked to her at school or said that he thought she should know about werewolves. Personally, I thought that would've been a big red warning flag, with flashing neon lights sewn to it, playing an obnoxious song really loudly, just in case we didn't happen to notice that he was dangerously obsessed with her. But Sadie had just brushed it all aside. She'd been all for working with Derek from the day I told her about werewolves, all "well he didn't bite Scott," and "he's just trying to help," and "you don't know that he's killed anyone." Which of course, was true, but you know—we didn't know that he hadn't killed anyone either. But she didn't care. And then, as if trusting him hadn't been enough, she'd been so goddamn worried when he went missing. Not just disappointed that the older sensai werewolf or whatever that was supposed to train Scott to not be a crazed killing machine was gone, but legitimately worried about his well being and feeling guilty and in denial about his death. And then the asshole had gone and shown up alive. I knew that, for some absolutely crazy reason I had no hope of understanding, she was upset she hadn't seen him yet. We'd known Derek was alive for a while now, and he was still only talking to Scott. Maybe it was because she trusted him more than Scott or I did, or maybe it was something more serious I wasn't willing to let myself think about, but I just really wished that she would get over the whole Derek thing and come to her senses. The guy was dangerous, and he couldn't be trusted. Not with my safety, not with Scott's, and definitely not with Sadie's.
I groaned as I reached a red light, running a hand over my head as I tried to shake off all thoughts of the intimidating fugitive lycanthrope. I stopped suddenly, patting the back of my neck and head in sudden realization. I glanced into the passenger seat and then into the back of the Jeep. I hadn't noticed at first because I didn't usually wear anything on my head, but my hat had just disappeared.
"Oh, come on. What the fuck?" I grumbled, digging through the empty take out bags that were littering the floor of the car. What the hell had I done with it?
And then Sadie's face flashed through my head again—smug smirk powered full blast as she rushed into her house, my hat still firmly jammed backwards on her head. I rolled my eyes, unable to keep the smallest of grins off my face.
"Well played, Bennet," I chuckled to the empty car, shaking my head and slumping back in my seat. "Well played."
I wasn't really sure what had made me grab the hat before I left. I'd showered, gotten dressed, just like I usually did. I mean, okay, maybe I'd used a little more body spray than usual, but it was nothing out of the ordinary. And then I'd just been standing in the bathroom, staring at myself in the mirror. I just felt so ridiculously normal. I was always the same—the same T-shirts and buttondowns and sneakers and everything. And look where that had gotten me. Human sidekick to my werewolf best friend, still jacking off to my laptop screen because I was grossly alone and apparently uninteresting. I just wanted someone to think I was interesting. Preferably a girl, but any attention would be appreciated, really. I wanted to be different, worthwhile. And the only thing I could really think of in that moment was to change something small. So I'd grabbed a hat. I'd put it on normally, then realized I looked even more like a loser than I normally did, and flipped it backwards. Yeah. That made me look kind of rough. Not really a burly guy girls would swoon for or whatever, but I looked tough enough. That's what the whole bad boy thing was about, right? Looking like you weren't afraid of anything and didn't really care too much. I'd be breaking plenty of rules that night, so that definitely tied the whole thing together.
Of course, it hadn't really occurred to me why I suddenly felt like I had to put all this effort in on a werewolf business night. The only girl I was going to be seeing was Sadie.
She probably hadn't even noticed that she'd left with it, if I was being realistic. I stole a glance at my phone sitting in the passenger seat, the screen dark and void of new text messages. If she'd taken the hat on accident, she probably would have noticed by now, right? She was probably getting for bed—which I was not thinking about—and that generally meant noticing you had someone else's baseball cap rammed on your head. I thought about the smug smirk she'd been wearing as she slipped inside. If she'd taken it on purpose, then what was the point? What she just trying to exact revenge for the long night of crime we'd dragged her through or…?
I stopped that train of thought before it could leave the station. Nuh-uh. I was not going down that road. Fine. I'd admitted that I was physically attracted to Sadie. I mean, how could you not be? She was one of the hottest girls in school—a pretty face, a perfect body, really nice, really long legs…and a great ass…which I admit I enjoyed the view of every time she had to climb into the back of the Jeep... But that wasn't the point. The point was that I could be physically attracted to her and still be her friend. I was a mature and responsible guy, who was completely capable of keeping my hormones in check around beautiful girls. Even beautiful girls like Sadie who had great taste in movies and an intimate knowledge of the supernatural world. Scott could crack all the jokes he wanted, but it was just good old sexual attraction. We were just friends.
Besides, I reminded myself, the only girl I'd ever been interested in was Lydia Martin. Sadie's completely wonderful, if terrifying and slightly vindictive, and sexy best friend. I was still totally in love with Lydia. Still watched her in the hall, still knew her favorite color and song and perfume scent, still knew her best subjects and her license plate number by heart, in case there was ever some trouble I overheard on the police scanner. I still experienced bouts of bloodcurdling rage and sickening jealousy and suffocating depression whenever I saw her with Jackson. God, fucking Jackson, who treated her like shit and didn't deserve a single shred of the time he got with her. She could be shallow occasionally, but Jackson was just a complete and utter tool, vapid and self-centered and self-absorbed and conceited and just a fucking asshole. Obviously, Lydia didn't see him that way, since she was still with him. But at least I was on her radar now. I was friends with Sadie, and that meant Sadie at least had to think I was a cool enough person, and if Lydia trusted Sadie's judgment in people, then she'd have to accept that I at least had potential. I'd stick around, show her how much better for her I was as opposed to Jackson. The five-year plan was still in motion. I still liked Lydia Martin.
I subconsciously nodded slightly to myself, convinced by my own argument. Obviously it was just sexual attraction I was feeling for Sadie. I had an abysmally inactive sex life, and happened to hang out with a cute girl a lot for the greater good of our little town. Sadie would bring the hat back to school tomorrow, smack me with it, and uselessly remind me that I was never allowed to drag her out on a night I planned on breaking more than one law every again. And we'd continue being friends.
But a tiny little voice was squeaking obnoxiously in the back of my skull. Even if Sadie didn't return my hat, decided to keep it like some girls stole sweatshirts from their boyfriends…only obviously not exactly like that since we were friends…but still…it probably wouldn't bother me all that much…
A/N: Whew! Okie dokie! There's another one done. I got one request for Stiles's thoughts on the whole Fenris deal. If we're being honest, pretty sure the whole hat thing was just because Dylan's hair was too long to be Stiles and he was filming so he couldn't cut it or something. BUT. I like my excuse too. I know there were some parts of the request I didn't reply to, but that's because I think they'll probably crop up later in the story. No worries my lovies!
So, Stiles being firmly rooted in his love for Lydia. I didn't want you guys to get too excited about his feelings for Sadie. It takes him a lot longer to come around to the idea. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and let me know what you think!
-Brittney
