I was running; running through the preserve, Scott running after me. I couldn't hear his footsteps, but he couldn't be that far behind me. I turned my head to glance back behind me to try and see if I could find him, wherever the hell he was, when I ran into something - or someone - in front of me. We collapsed, rolling on the ground before I found my footing, sliding in the dirt and finally stopping in what I would like to call a Black Widow pose. I pushed lifted my head up to see Scott opposite me completely wolfed out and in nearly the same position I was in. I smiled at him before wolfing out myself and running at him; he didn't move, only waited. I knew I should be suspicious, but kept running at him anyway. Then he practically flipped me over his shoulder, and I landed on the ground behind him with a thud and a groan.
"Dead," Scott proclaimed, miming slashing my throat with his de-clawed hand.
"I know," I groaned from the ground, putting my hands on my face. "I should've known when you didn't move; you usually dance around. I'm so stuuuuupid."
He held out a hand for me and I took it, pulling myself halfway up before yanking Scott onto the ground and crawling on top of him, moving my hand across his neck. "Dead," I said, grinning. I plopped myself down onto his chest and he groaned at the sudden change in weight. "You know, I was totally going to Black Widow you if you hadn't killed me." I really was; I had been practicing that one move where she wraps her legs around the person's head and flips them over, and even though I didn't have any one to practice it with, just going through the motions helped. But I'd never know if I could do it now, since Scott had metaphorically killed me.
"Oh, you where?" he asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.
"Yeah, I was. And I totally would've had you then."
"Sure you would've."
"Oh, you wanna bet?" I said, shoving myself up off of him. "Rematch, right now."
. . . . .
A week. I had been on metaphorical house arrest for a week, due to the fact that Scott was genuinely concerned for my safety. I was pretty sure that I could handle myself, though; we had started up training again, him teaching me new things and better ways to fight. But (more than I would like to admit) our training sessions would end up with making out on the forest floor (not that I had a problem with it, it was fantastic), so they weren't as productive as they could have been. I mean, don't get me wrong, being able to stay home from school and making out with my boyfriend was great, but with my prolonged absence came homework, along with missed tests and quizzes. Not to mention Scott had to teach me some of what I missed so I could actually do the homework, and lets just say that he isn't exactly the best teacher, in an academic sense. But I had all day to figure out how to do what he couldn't teach.
Currently, I was roaming around the kitchen, looking for something to eat for a late lunch. Right now I was in a debate between making mac and cheese or going all-out and making an actual sandwich. The latter sounded good - especially if it was a BLT - but I was pretty sure we were out of bacon. I checked the fridge, looking in every crevice and hiding spot (and finding a chunk of moldy cheese hiding in the back corner of one of the bottom drawers, which I threw away) and found zero packages of bacon. I checked the freezer just in case because you never know, people could put their bacon in the freezer, and came up empty handed. Mac and cheese it is.
I got out all the necessary ingredients, filled the pan with water and set it on the stove. I cranked up the heat and put in the noodles, not bothering with the "wait until its boiling" step on the back if the box; I never do. While I waited for the water (and noodles) to boil, I played some music, and ended up dancing around the kitchen like an idiot, a wooden spoon in the place of a microphone. Thank god that the McCall's didn't have any security cameras in their house (at least that I knew of...). The constant vibrating of my phone (and consequently the lowering of my music's volume) interrupted my quality jam session, and I quickly ran back over to the counter to answer my phone.
"Stiles, what's up?" I said, walking back over to the pot of nearly-boiling water and noodles that I had neglected for neglected minutes.
"Being the fantastic friend I am, I would just like to let you know that your boyfriend is spreading rumors about you."
"Oh really? And what is this rumor?"
"That you..." Stiles voice dropped down and there was a snicker in the background I suspected to be Isaac. "...have mono," he whispered.
I snorted, stepping away from the stove to watch the water boil. "That's a really bad rumor. Like bad as in wow that's a terrible idea I mean really and not bad as in oh my god that's so evil I think I might cry. I feel like you would've come up with a better rumor yourself."
"Actually," Stiles said, sounding taken aback, "it was my idea."
"I am surprised at your lack of creativity. I was sure you would say something cool, like that I was getting brain surgery or I was in a coma. I am genuinely disappointed in yo–oh shit." I ran quickly placed my phone on the counter, turning the burner off as the water boiled over the sides. After I got the pot under control, I picked my phone back up. "No need to be alarmed, I was just making mac and cheese and the water boiled over."
There was a relieved sigh on the other side of the line. "I though someone had broken in or something. Jesus, Nat, don't scare me like that."
"So is that all you called me for? To alert me of a vicious rumor that probably won't take with BHHS populous. Now if I was pregnant..." I could physically hear his face pale through the phone.
"You're not...?"
"No, I'm not Stiles. Calm down, no need to freak out. There will be zero little ankle-biters running around the McCall household for several, several more years, if Scott and I are still together. Can I hang up now? My food is getting cold."
"Uh, yeah. Bye."
"Bye Stiles." I hung up, setting my phone back down (and turning my music back up) to finish making my cheesy lunch. After I had drained the pot of water and mixed in milk, butter, and the powdered cheese that came in the box, I had a late lunch all ready to eat. If only we had some bacon, this four and a half star meal would skyrocket right up to a five; bacon mac and cheese is the best thing in the world, and no one can tell me otherwise.
I settled down on the couch with the pot and a potholder (why put it in a bowl when I'd have to wash the pot anyway) to watch some terrible daytime television. Or Pitch Perfect for the fourth time this week, since it always seemed to be on around this time on the higher channels.
Hours later, my pot was on the coffee table, along with my feet, and I was belting out along with the cast of Pitch Perfect for the second time in two hours. I've seen this movie so many times now, I could practically quote it word-for-word, not to mention sing it word-for-word. After the Riff Off scene concluded I pushed myself up off the couch, taking my pot and potholder into the kitchen. I filled the pot with water and left it in the sink so it could soak and make it easier to clean, and tossed the potholder into the correct drawer in the kitchen. As soon as I shut the drawer, I heard the rumble of an engine from down the street. I glanced at the clock, seeing that it was in fact 3:17 p.m., and Scott would be pulling in the driveway any minute now; I had gotten into the habit of unintentionally listening for his bike so I could scare the living shit out of him when he walked in the door.
When I heard the rumble get closer I smiled, recognizing the sound of Scott's motorbike. I began to walk quietly towards the door, listening to the engine pull into the driveway. Next was the sound of Scott putting down the kickstand and pulling off his helmet, followed by him walking up to the front door. He didn't even bother with keys, since his front door was almost always unlocked when someone was home. As soon as the door opened I practically went limp, crashing against Scott who caught me against his chest.
"Scooooooott," I groaned. He continued to walk into the house like me falling into him was nothing, my arms hanging loosely around his neck, his arms around my waist. Somehow he had gotten my feet on top of his shoes and was essentially walking me into the house with him. "I haven't left the house in days. I want to do something, get out of this house."
"Nat -"
"Even if its just grocery shopping. I need to do something other than train and watch Pitch Perfect.
"Nat -"
"I'll take Melissa's clothes to the dry cleaners, I'll go and pick up some take-out."
"Nat -"
"Heck, I'll even take out the trash. I'm that desperate, Scott. Please, I need stimulation." I was no longer hanging around his neck, my hands instead at the collar of his shirt and my feet off of his shoes. I was essentially pleading with him. Not that I didn't love Pitch Perfect, but it was slowly getting to me, and I needed to eat something other than mac and cheese every now and then.
"We can do something," Scott said finally, after trying to break through the rambling stream that was my pleading. Call me Augustus Waters, because I lit up like a Christmas tree.
"Really?"
"Yeah really, but only if the rest of the pack comes."
"I don't care, I just want to do something. When are we going to go do something? Can we do it tonight?"
"We'll have to see if everyone's free. If they're not, we can always do something tomorrow."
"But I wanted to do something today," I whined, unable to help it.
"I'll just have keep you busy until then," Scott said, adjusting his grip on my waist.
"Oh yeah?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
"Yeah," he replied, leaning down to kiss me.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you, you might get mono," I murmured against his lips.
Scott pulled back and flushed. "You know about that?"
"Yeah, I know about that." I reached up to peck him on the lips. "Good cover, now I won't have to go back to school for a month."
"You're not mad?"
"No, I'm not mad. Now are we going to keep talking," I said, freeing myself from Scott's arms and taking a step back, "or are you going to keep me busy until tomorrow?"
Scott just smiled and picked me up, throwing me onto the couch before hopping over the back of it to join me. He grabbed my hips and pulled me onto his lap, leisurely throwing his arms around my waist and connecting his fingers at the small of my back.
"Keep you busy until tomorrow," he said, the smile not leaving his face.
.
"So we're going to make out in intervals for nine hours?" I asked, playing with his hand.
He shrugged his shoulders. "We could play Mario Kart too."
I pushed myself up on his chest. "If we play Mario Kart, be prepared to lose, McCall. I've had a week to play Mario Kart and improve my skill."
He scoffed. "Stiles and I have been having matches since we could hold game controllers. I'm pretty sure you can't handle all this."
"Hmm, how about a bet?" He smiled. "To see who is really better at Mario Kart."
"And what does the loser have to do?"
"Pay for pizza. Deal?"
"Deal," I said, leaning back down to peck him on the lips. We then separated ourselves from each other, getting up to turn on the Wii, get controllers, and put in Mario Kart, and returned to the couch, ready to see who will have to pay for pizza.
15 MINUTES LATER...
"SCOTT MCCALL YOU DID NOT JUST BLUE SHELL ME. I SWEAR TO GOD, SCOTT, I SWEAR TO GOD THAT I WILL END YOU." He just grinned and I swatted at his hand, trying to get the controller out of his grip while trying steering with one hand. "You are so cheating and I am going to tell your mom on you! I'm going to call her and tell her son is a big fat cheater!"
In the end, I lost by seven matches out of the eight we played. I guess I was really good at Rainbow Road, which Scott couldn't play for shit.
I got up, tossing my controller onto the couch as I did. "You are so lucky I found a ten shoved in the couch yesterday. So lucky."