NOTE: An * by a song will indicate for you to play that song along with reading the text as a little reminder if you'd like to do that :)br /
It'll indicate in the paragraph what song it is and who it's by, but I'll put them at the end just in case. I recommend reading the parts without music and then going back and giving them a listen while re-reading! They really enhance the story in my opinion and help you really get the most atmosphere out of it. If that's no your thing though, no biggie! Enjoy this story at your leisure :)
Also, any lyrics that are in italics (usually) means that more than one character is singing the lyrics (usually meaning together). Regular text means the lyrics are sung by one person.
A week had passed since Stiles first arrived at Beacon Hills University (BHU). Most of it had been spent participating in more Fresher's Week events, attending more parties, and being shown all around Beacon Hills by Scott, who was quickly becoming Stiles' best friend.
Stiles hadn't been back to the Hale Estate to learn about or start whatever job it was he was going to have to do over the year as part of his full-ride scholarship. Although, he'd gotten a voicemail informing him he had to go there later in the week after class. A part of him was excited to be working for the Hales. No doubt it was going to look killer on his resume for future jobs. But another part, a larger part, was more than slightly mortified at running into Derek Hale again, who looked like a freakin' Greek God and whom Stiles had already managed to make an ass of himself in front of by serenading him through a car window.
The guy probably saw hundreds of faces a day though from people wanting to shake his hand and fawn and drool all over him, so Stiles was praying he wouldn't remember his face. Stiles didn't think his own face was particularly remarkable, so there was hope still.
Classes had started this week and along with them, auditions for the a capella groups, which Scott was now dragging Stiles to. Stiles had played at Scott being an evil friend for forcing him to go, but really, he was actually curious to learn more about the most popular organization on campus. Although he was strictly going as moral support for Scott; Stiles himself wasn't auditioning, despite Scott's best efforts to get him to.
This past Sunday, Stiles had hopped in the shower around noon after finally managing to drag himself out of bed. As soon as he stepped under the spray of water, he'd started singing. He definitely had whatever syndrome it was that caused people to suddenly want to put on a concert whenever they had bottles of shampoo and conditioner to sing into like a microphone.
Still a bit groggy from sleep, Stiles had started with something simple and soothing, beginning the lyrics to Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillat's song "Lucky."
*"Do you hear me? I'm talking to you...
Across the water...across the deep...blue ocean
Under the open sky, oh my, oh baby I'm trying..."
It was then that the shower curtain was unceremoniously ripped back, metal rings whizzing down the curtain rod. Instinctively, Stiles reached down to cover his junk, his first thought being that the zombie apocalypse was finally here and it was just his freakin' luck that he was going to die naked.
It was only Scott though, who was staring at him, his puppy dog eyes wide and full of light like he'd just been given a new bone to chew on, and an awed smile played across his face. "Dude, you can sing! You've totally been holding out."
"Dude," Stiles mimicked, "I'm in the shower!"
"No, no," Scott shook his head. "I know everyone thinks they sound good in the shower, but you actually do! Like really good."
"No, I mean I'm in the shower." Stiles wiggled his head around vigorously trying to indicate his surroundings without the use of his hands. "Naked." Sure, Stiles had been around plenty of naked dudes all through high school when he was on the lacrosse team, even if he'd only warmed the bench, but no one had ever burst into his stall before and tried to strike up a conversation, so this was a little different.
Scott waved a hand dismissively. "Doesn't bother me, dude, we're all men here."
That was easy for Scott to say, who was standing in front of him in just his boxers (Stiles could have sworn the guy was asleep in his bed), and who also looked like he hit the gym every day, with a natural tan that Stiles was only slightly envious of considering his own pasty white skin.
"You have to go to the a capella auditions with me this week," said Scott.
"No way, man, I don't do after school choir groups. Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to making myself squeaky clean, which you should want too, since you said my feet reeked the other day..."
"You have to," said Scott, choosing to ignore Stiles' sarcasm. "C'mon, you have to know you're good. Sing something with me."
"Dude, no. I'm in the freakin' sh-"
"Shower, yeah, I know, you said that already."
It took all of his effort not to reach out and strangle Scott. He was no longer under the spray of the water, having sought out the corner of the shower for protection when he thought a zombie had come to eat his brains, but he could still feel the water on his feet, and it was already starting to cool down. He was too far away to reach for the handle to turn it up, and a chill was already creeping across his skin.
Sighing in resignation, he let his head fall back against the wall as he said, "You're not going to leave until I do, are you?"
"Nope," said Scott, popping his lips on the 'p' and bringing his hands up to rest on his hips, one hip jutting out. It was the sassiest Stiles had ever seen Scott look, and he couldn't help but laugh while shaking his head.
"Fine."
Scott started clapping excitedly before settling back down. "Okay, I'll start where you left off, and I'll even let you be Jason Mraz."
"Alright, Colbie Caillat, hit it."
Scott cleared his throat before beginning.
*"Boy I hear you, in my dreams...
I hear your whisper, across the sea...
I keep you with me, in my heart
You make it eas-ier when life gets hard"
Stiles rolled his eyes, but joined in for the chorus.
"Lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Ooh ooh ooh"
And then Scott began to sing, Stiles joining in and echoing the lyrics just like the song.
"They don't know how long we take,
Waiting for a love like this
Every time we say goodbye
I wish we had one more kiss
I'll wait for you, I promise you, I will...
I'm lucky I'm in love with my best friend
Lucky to have been where I have been
Lucky to be coming home again
Lucky we will love in every way
Lucky to have stayed where we have stayed
Lucky to be coming home someday
And then it was just Stiles' part again.
"And so I'm sailing, through the sea
To an island, where we'll meet
You'll hear the music, fill the air
I put a flowwwer...in your hair..."
"Okay, okay, okay," said Stiles, cutting Scott off before he could sing anymore. "I love you and all, dude, but this song...yeah, you're like my best friend here and this is just a bit too much bro love for me right now."
Scott was smirking though, not looking the least bit disturbed by the interruption. "You're auditioning," he said simply; it wasn't a question.
"No," said Stiles, just as simply.
And that's how Stiles spent his Sunday morning, arguing with Scott until all of the hot water was used up and Stiles stood shivering, junk cupped in his hands, balls having shriveled to the size of raisins until he made Scott get out of the bathroom by spraying him with the freezing water.
"Don't worry about it, man, you're gonna do great," said Stiles, clapping a hand on Scott's shoulder for reassurance.
Scott was currently having a little freak out outside of the auditorium doors where the auditions were being held. Stiles really did think Scott would do fine; he was also a better singer than he'd given himself credit for. And it wasn't even getting up and singing on stage that had Scott wigging out, it was Allison. She was the only reason Scott was even attempting to try-out. The Acabellas were an All Girls group, but Scott insisted that being a part of a group would mean he got to spend more with her and give him more opportunities to run into her because apparently the groups had smaller competitions around campus with each other and other charity events they had to all do together.
That man's head was so far over his heels he could probably see his own ass.
"C'mon, buddy, I'll be right in the audience. Just focus on me, just pretend everyone is in their underwear, you know, all that junk. Literally. All. That. Junk. Right in your face. Just imagine it."
Scott eyes suddenly bugged out. "I bet Allison looks amazing in her underwear...Oh my god, I can't go in there, man!"
"Ahh, shit." Stiles bit his fist. Really, he should learn when to shut his mouth sometimes. He'd only had years of angry retorts, squeals of indignation, and being chased down hallways to learn that he didn't always say the brightest things. His mouth was a bit of a teenage runaway.
Finally though, Stiles managed to coax Scott through the doors, which mostly involved a lot of dragging, words of encouragement, and friendly reminders that the worst that could happen was Allison would think he was a major loser and never want to speak to or see him again.
The auditorium was packed when they walked in.
"Are all of these people auditioning?" Stiles asked in disbelief as he and Scott squeezed their way down one of the back rows where some of the only seats remained. He'd finally come to believe that a capella was actually a popular club around here and that this wasn't some elaborate joke by Scott, but he didn't realize it was this popular.
"Nah, most of the people just come to watch. Technically people aren't supposed to be allowed in to watch auditions, but ever since Jackson joined he made it his mission to turn this whole process into American Idol."
Stiles spotted the Abercrombie model in the first row of seats. It wasn't hard to find him. A whole section of seats were roped off for whom Stiles assumed were all of the a capella groups and their current members. The One Note Stands had taken it upon themselves to hoard the first row. He spotted the Acabellas, which were nearly the same size, and then scattered throughout the section were smaller groups of people, the less popular ones Stiles assumed.
As he scanned their faces, he couldn't help but look for a certain tall, dark, and brooding leader as well as the other equally as gorgeous members of The Howlers. Scott had said they never showed up to auditions; if they wanted you, they'd find you somehow, but Stiles couldn't help but search the sea of faces anyway until someone came up on stage and the auditions began.
It was like watching something out of a movie as, one by one, people were called up to the stage, all of them singing the song "Live While We're Young" by One Direction. All of it passed by like a montage, some people singing the song up beat and fun just like the original version, others going all out and making it a ballad, one dude performing it like he was in the opera.
The audience reacted to each auditioner, and Stiles couldn't help but get caught up in the atmosphere, cheering and sighing and cringing along with them all. A lot of the people were tone deaf and Stiles was sure he'd have hearing problems for the rest of his life after one girl screeched away, but many of the performances were actually pretty good. He knew he'd have a hard time choosing people if he had his own group.
Eventually it was Scott's turn and Stiles made sure to cheer the loudest, clapping and shouting "You got this, Scotty!" and "Don't forget the underwear!" winking back at the murderous stare Scott gave him as he walked onto the stage. It was hard to find puppies murderous, after all.
After his initial nerves that made his voice shake a bit, Scott got into the song, letting his personality shine through, and Stiles thought he hit it out of the park, not to mention the loud applause he got at the end, and he was pretty sure he saw several girls faint at the end, and a few guys as well.
Scott returned to his seat next to Stiles after his audition, his friend receiving several claps on the back and even an enthusiastic hug from a stranger. They settled back in to finish the auditions together for another half an hour. Stiles couldn't lie, he was actually really enjoying a capella as he found himself bobbing his head and rocking along with the auditoners.
Eventually it came to an end though, the two guys who'd hosted the auditions coming back onto the stage. "Thank you everyone for coming. That now concludes this year's a capella auditi -"
"Wait!"
Stiles nearly jumped a foot out of his seat as Scott had literally jumped out of his, shouting across the stadium.
"Yes, you, the adorable laberdoodle," one of the hosts called back.
Scott blushed a little but went on. "There's still one more person who has to audition."
The man looked down at his clipboard. "There's no one left on this list..."
"He's a late entry. My buddy Stiles Stilinksi." Scott turned to Stiles, wearing the biggest, most devious smirk Stiles had ever seen on his friend.
"Whoa - no, no, no, no." Stiles held his hands out in front of himself defensively, shaking his head. "I didn't sign up for this."
"Awww, come on, cutie, don't be shy, get your little tushy up here!" the second host cooed into the microphone. "Everyone give this honey-bun a cheer. He needs a little encouragement!"
The room immediately erupted into cheers and clapping, the people around Stiles all urging him on with a 'come on' and 'you can do it!' his shoulders being squeezed from all sides. It felt as if his stomach was going to make an immediate exit out of his mouth. How could he say no to an auditorium full of people?
The answer was he couldn't. He stood up reluctantly, giving Scott the stink-eye as he did. "You're so dead," he promised.
Scott just laughed. "Just imagine everyone in their underwear!" he said with a wink.
The walk up to the stage was the longest walk of his life. He smiled and waved, even blowing a kiss as he tried to put on a show in true Stiles fashion, but inside a band of cracked-out crickets hopped along his nerves doing the jitterbug. Eventually he made it onto the stage, a bright light shining down on him. It threatened to blind him, but the one good thing was that it blocked out most of the back half of the auditorium.
A shriek of feedback from the stereos pierced the stadium when he tried adjusting the microphone to his height. As one the audience cringed and he could tell that he was already losing their favor. Jackson barking out a laugh in the front row didn't help, his cronies all joining him. The mocking looks and jeers they were all giving him clearly said they expected Stiles to be shit and that he was going to make an idiot out of himself.
Instead of discouraging him, their laughter actually hardened something in him. He'd been laughed at nearly his entire life at everything he did. Sure, he'd never thought he was that great of a singer, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to give everyone a show now, if only to wipe that stupid smirk off of Jackson's face.
The piercing noise of feedback finally subsided and Stiles spoke into the microphone. "I, uh, didn't prepare that song so I don't know all of the lyrics despite my best buddy Scotty out there rocking out to it in front of his Harry Styles poster every morning. Hey, whatever gets you off, man. No judgement here."
That got some laughs from the crowd, which further eased his nerves. Payback was always soothing. "And my father has banned me from singing Rihanna ever again and you don't argue with a man with a gun, but I do have some Gavin Degraw prepared, if that's alright?" He turned to look at the judges, who gave him a nod and a wink.
Clearing his throat, Stiles forced down his nerves, though his hands still shook slightly as he gripped the microphone and began the opening lyrics to "Best I Ever Had."
*"Melt Antarctica, savin' Africa
I failed algebra and I miss you sometimes
We're at war again, save the world again
You can all join in, but you can't smoke inside"
The first couple of parts were fun and up beat, having a bit of a ska feeling to it, but they more of a "talking-singing" that anyone could do decently and as he performed, he could see Jackson and his crew all rolling their eyes at each other, smirking and laughing, making a show of not paying attention. Stiles looked away and continued.
"You said, "Take me home, I can't stand this place
'Cause there's too many hipsters and I just can't relate."
You're my neon gypsy, my desert rain
You're my "Helter Skelter", oh how can I explain that"
Jackson gave an exaggerated yawn and even Stiles could tell that the audience felt like his performance was anti-climatic after all of the cheering. Biting that all back, Stiles closed his eyes briefly, picturing his mom and how it had seemed like she'd opened up her entire soul and heart on stage when she sang, her voice the most beautiful thing he'd ever heard.
Pausing a moment and breathing in deeply, Stiles did the same as he belted out the next lyrics.
"You're the besttttt I ever haddd...
And I'm trying not to getttt stuck in my headddd!
"But I've read that soda kills you and Jesus saves
On a bathroom wall where I saw your name
You're the best I ever had!
I won't be the same"
There was a brief pause as Stiles caught his breath, and then the room exploded in cheer.
A smile broke out across Stiles' face in surprise. Did they really think he was good? Either way, the feeling filled him up, adrenaline coursing through his veins as he really got into the performance, grasping the microphone and pulling it backwards as he began again.
He started to stomp his foot and clap his hands along to the beat and a second later the audience picked it up.
"Night sky full of drones, this neighborhood of clones
I'm looking at the crowd and they're staring at their phones
They groom the coast line here, the sun will disappear
And maybe once a year I think to clean my car
Caught my reflection, dropped the call
I've been medicating with cigarettes and alcohol
I got vertigo, no I can't see straight
I got obligations though I'm usually late but"
Again, Stiles filled his lungs let it all loose as he sang:
"You're the best I ever haddd!
And I'm trying not to getttt stuck in my headddd
But I think I dropped my wallet in Santa Fe
Lost the only picture I had of you that day and
You're the besttttt I ever hadddd
I won't be the same!"
The rest of the song was like riding on a high. Singing around the house and in the car and the shower was one thing. It'd always made him happy to sing, but he'd never expected to feel the same in front of an audience. Especially after his mom died. It was just so different. It was amazing and exhilarating and terrifying and wonderful all at the same time. And as the song wrapped up Stiles would never doubt the effect immediate feedback from an audience gave. Because to further Stile's surprise, the auditorium was rising to its feet, the people still clapping and cheering.
It didn't happen often because it took a lot to embarrass Stiles, but a blush sprung across his face at their response. He didn't feel like he deserved it. There was no way in hell he was that good. Sure, his dad said he was all the time, but that's what dads were supposed to do: tell bad jokes and make their kids feel like rockstars.
Feeling too humbled to wink and blow kisses anymore, Stiles merely waved, mustering up as much of a smile as he could before running his hand through his hair, trying to cover up his face as he did.
"Well, well, welllll," Nate, one of the hosts, sashayed up to Stiles, throwing an arm around him and tugging him even closer until Stiles wondered if this was what it felt like to be in one of those Chinese finger trap thingys. "Adorable AND gifted by the a capella gods? You, my dear, are one little Mourning Dove I would let sit on my -"
"ALRIGHT thank you, Mr. Stilinski," the other host, the taller, heavier set one, Tod, interrupted, pulling at Nate, who'd begun to stroke the side of Stile's face and down his jawline with a thin, twig of a finger, having to give a hard yank to fully extract the slender man from around Stiles completely.
Thoroughly creeped out and yet oddly flattered, Stiles gladly took Tod's dismissal to get off the stage as he began announcing that any auditioners would be contacted by a capella groups by the end of the week at the latest if they were interested in recruiting them.
Hopping off the stage, a move that would have sent him stumbling into a full out tumble and rolling up the aisles like a drunk bowling ball only a year ago, Stiles made his way back towards Scott and past the crowd of people waiting to pat him on the back and squeeze his shoulders, but not before searching for Jackson in the crowd, wanting to see that smirk wiped off of the smug Ambercrombie model's face as a cherry on top of his performance.
To Stiles' delight, the smirk was replaced with a scowl, the older man quickly looking away when Stiles winked at him flirtatiously and puckered his lips.
"Dude, that was fricken incredible!" Scott cheered, jumping on Stiles when he'd finally made it back up to their seats.
Stiles shrugged humbly and smiled softly. He really wasn't good at this whole praise thing, especially not from friends. And, really, he honestly didn't think he'd done that great. He probably should've picked a song that showcased any talents he might have, but it was the first one that'd popped into his head, and hey, the world needed their daily dose of Gavin Mcgraw.
"Thanks, man," he mumbled before speaking louder. "No better than you though; you killed it."
Scott shook his head. "Nuh uh, dude, that reverse spotlight stuff isn't gonna work. I WISH I was half as good as you. I wouldn't be surprised if you got an invite from the Howlers by the end of the week." He nudged him in the ribs, grinning goofily like this should be the best news in the world.
Instead, Stiles busted out laughing.
Scott gave him a funny look. "What? You're really good, Stiles! I'm serious. You just wait and see."
Stiles rubbed his stomach, which had cramped from all the laughter. Stiles had seen the Howlers perform. The way they were effortlessly in sync as if they all shared a brain or ran on the same wave length. They were like a pack almost. Not to mention they were all drop dead gorgeous. Even if stiles did have what it took vocally, he never would've passed the beauty test.
"Uh huh. Sure thingy, buddy. And maybe vampires and werewolves are real."
Scott rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles by the elbow. "Whatever, man. Let's go grab some grub. I'm starving."
After the duo had stomachs full to bursting of french fries and chili cheese dogs and brownies, they headed back to their dorm for a day full of zombie slaying on the sweet set-up of electronics Scott had brought to their dorm room. They had three monitors mounted on their walls (not strictly speaking legal, but Scott knew or was related to one of the administrators of the school, so a blind eye had been turned) and an entire hoard of game systems on the shelves underneath.
But their discussion on which of Superhero sidekick deserved his own movie franchise (Nightwing vs. Bucky Barnes) as they walked into the dorm was cut short when Stiles, arms full of snacks and sugary goodness, saw an envelope lying pristinely on his bed. The elegant calligraphy that spelled out his name told Stiles exactly who it was from.
His heart managed to stutter back to life, revving ostentatiously in his ears as he dumped the snacks onto his bed and pick up the envelope. Scott was still chattering happily away, not having noticed as Stiles carefully opened the better, breaking the dark, blood red wax seal that had a bold, gothic family crest stamped into it.
"Hey, what's that?" Scott breathed his chili breath into Stiles' ears, suddenly right behind him as he'd reached the bottom of the letter.
Stiles pulled the letter away sheepishly. Okay, so he hadn't exactly told Scott yet about his scholarship. Scott knew he was on a scholarship (if his lack of a car and red converse with a generous ventilation system via large rips weren't obvious enough) but he didn't know WHICH one. It wasn't for any particular reason Stiles hadn't told him, but he just didn't know how to bring it up.
Now's as good a time as any, he thought. The whole not really having a choice now may have played a part too.
"It's a letter from the Hale family. I have to be at their estate in an hour." The words fell matter-of-factly from Stiles' mouth, his shock and slight to extreme horror apparently taking their time to gain optimal speed before they would no doubt shoot to the surface.
Scott blinked slowly at him, not comprehending.
Stiles scratched at the back of his head - a nervous habit - and quickly explained exactly how he'd come to enroll at BHU.
"You KNOW Derek Hale? Dude, you're so totally getting into the Howlers now," was the first thing Scott blurted out (halfway through Stiles' explanation, which earned him a glare and a flick to the nose).
"I don't KNOW any of the Hales, let alone Derek." If you didn't count serenading him on the sidewalk with popular Katy Perry hits, that was. "He wasn't even at the dinner that night. Neither was his sister, the other one in the group."
"Cora," Scott supplied automatically.
"Right," Stiles said slowly, eyes narrowing as he calculated just how deep Scott's obsession went for a capella. It seemed to be a Beacon Hills thing though, not just a Scott thing. "So yeah, I uh, guess I have to go there in…" He looked down at his watch. "Oh shit! I've only got thirty minutes."
"Dude, you can't go to the Hale's house wearing that!" Scott cried.
What followed was a blur of the most expensive clothing Stiles had ever wore being put on and torn off of his body and flung across the room haphazardly at lightning speed. Until finally Scott had Stiles in a wine-red sweater that felt soft as lamb ears, pulled over a denim button-up with the collar pulled out and the cuffs folded and buttoned over the sweater. They weren't the same pants size, with Stiles being a bit taller and Scott being a tad more built, although Stiles had filled out nicely over the summer due to an excessive amount of time on his hands and free access to the weight room at the police station.
But Scott apparently had a couple pairs that he rolled the pant legs up for "fashion purposes," so Stiles was promptly put in a nice pair of dark jeans with a belt and dress shoes that pinched his feet a bit.
All in all, he finally looked like he belonged at BHU as he was covered in a several hundred dollar outfit.
But as he stared in the mirror at his artfully messy hair that Scott had attacked with some salon professional grade hair gel, Stiles never felt more out of place in his life.
And he was about to spend his evening with the richest family in Beacon Hills, which included one brooding and godly Derek Hale. What could go wrong when you were dressed to the nines in your best friend's clothes and received a quick slap on the ass from said best friend with a cheer of "things will go great!"?
Apparently, as Stiles would soon find out, everything.
NOTE:
Sorry this took so long to update! Please put the pitchforks away. I plan to be much more productive in updating all of my stories. Here's to hoping! *crosses fingers, legs, arms, every single strand of hair on my body*
Please let me know if anyone is even still reading this! Also, let me know if you're enjoying it ^_^
Getting comments makes me a very happy person. You keep reading/commenting, I'll keep writing! :D sound like a dealio?
I love you all to the far distant galaxies and back. Thank you for reading!
P.s. - lots of Derek to come in the next chapter ;D
Songs:
* Lucky by Jason Mraz and Colbie Caillatbr /
* Best I Ever Had by Gavin DeGraw
