Disclaimer: No, I do not own Teen Wolf.
Edit: 08/22/2014 Stilinsky-Stilinski
Last time:
"I guess," Scott started tentatively when the sounds of the few remaining players changing blocked out most of any other variety of noise, "I guess I should tell Coach tomorrow that I can't play the game. It's not like anyone will die from one game."
I clapped him proudly on the shoulder, "Especially if you're not in it." Honestly, Scott isn't as hopeless as I make him out to be; he has higher functions of thought even if they only temporarily shine through.
It's just too bad that resolve couldn't last.
By practice on Friday, Scott was spewing forth all the different threats and such he had received about the game. Derek, like I had, had strongly warned against it, but he felt that if I was present it was unlikely Scott would go full-out wolfman. Apparently, Scott hadn't felt the need to tell him my effect on him was getting somehow less potent. Which, of course, I cuffed him upside the head for since he obviously had less brain cells left to damage than I had thought. Once Scott got his hurt and betrayed puppy dog whimpers out of the way, he filled me in on his mom taking off work, Lydia threatening to introduce Allison to all the "hot lacrosse players," and Coach saying he'd be off first line if he didn't play in the game.
Lydia, at least, probably had good intentions at heart and just wanted our school and Scott to do their best since she didn't know why he couldn't play.
Or shouldn't, seeing as Scott had made up his mind to go for it.
I honestly couldn't believe he and Derek were condoning this. A little of my inner turmoil must have shown on my face, because when I got home, my dad cornered me for another round of our favorite family game. That's Twenty Questions in case anyone wasn't paying attention earlier.
"Are you really okay?" He finished up with, following me into the kitchen as I set about making dinner.
"Yeah, I'm fine." I thought the finality in my voice clearly communicated that I judged the matter closed. I pulled down the rounded pan I'd heard was called a wok and turned to face Dad with a grin. "I'm thinking of trying to make stir fry tonight, got any sauce preferences?" He shifted from foot to foot uneasily. My smile slid from my face to melt into the grout between the tiles on the floor in a way I wanted to emulate, "You… Aren't going to be home tonight, are you?"
"You just caught me on the way out the door," He admitted, barely meeting my eyes. "I wouldn't go if it-"
"If it wasn't important, yeah, I know." I'd finished the tired line with him and hung up the wok with a grin that probably didn't look too forced. "Guess I don't have to make as much food tonight."
"Aw, hell, Stiles. I hate it when you do that."
"What are you talking about?" That sentence was a decoy. I'm not crazy enough to ignore my own passive-aggressive behavior.
"Listen," He caught my eyes this time, and I felt compelled to pay attention, so I stopped bumbling around the kitchen and crossed my arms over my chest, "I really do care about you, even if I don't always know how to show it, and I spend all this time at my job to keep this town –you- safe."
He seemed so beaten up about it every time that it was hard to keep the resentment alive and I deflated. "I get it, Dad, just-" I caught his arm and gave it a squeeze, "be careful, okay?"
The usual surprise flickered through his eyes and I fought the urge to throttle him for allowing my concern to shock him so consistently. Because, obviously, teen boys are way too shallow for that. "You too, kid."
I laughed a tad nervously, "What do I have to be worried about with you on the job?"
His smile lingered in my head after he left, but not near strongly enough to fight off the knowledge of exactly what I had to be worried about.
"I really don't like this, Scott," I fidgeted in the minutes before the game, "I swear, someone is going to die."
Scott gave my shoulder an absent rub from where he was fixing the fit of his shoe, "I am trying not to think about it."
"Come on, Scott, this has 'bad idea' written all over it." Scott fixed me with a Look and I continued, "Alright, so maybe you already know all this and feel you have no choice because of Allison." Scott's Look evolved into a full-blown Eye Roll. "Okay, fine, then you just have to, uh, take it easy and think relaxing things and try not to think about Allison sitting in the stands or Lydia introducing her to the team or how you could potentially blow your and Hale's secret or how that could get someone kill-" Scott was staring at me in abject horror now and I took a deep breath, clapping him on the shoulder, "Never mind. I'm sure it'll all be fine."
"You really have a way of convincing a guy," Scott whined, putting his helmet on as we exited the locker room.
"Listen, I'll keep my gloves off so just remember to come by for a fist bump or something throughout the game to try and keep your uh, issue under control," I offered conciliatorily. "Granted, people will think our amazing bromance has reached new heights, but, you'll probably stay un-furry."
"I don't get that furry," Scott muttered petulantly.
"Uh huh." I slapped his back, sending him forward a bit as I made my way towards the bench, "Keep on telling yourself that."
Ah, the bench. A timeless commodity for those of us who long to be part of a sports team but don't have the talent to actually be helpful to the team as a whole. Only a year ago, Scott and I would both be here, united against the world, cheering on first string with only a slight tinge of resentment in our voices. Now, it was enough for me that he was out there.
Aw, who was I kidding? I was training my ass off. Next year I better get on first string or so help me god…
"Okay, Scott, you can do this," I murmured, ignoring the odd looks I was getting from my fellow bench mates as they could hear the sibilants of my comments but not the actual words.
"You okay, Stiles?" Dave asked with clear concern in the crease of his brow.
I looked up at the rest of Team Bench, "Oh yeah, I'm just uh, sending positive vibes at the team. Pay no attention." I turned my gaze back to Scott just as the game began and a furious flailing of limbs took over the battlefi- I mean the lacrosse field. It soon became obvious Jackson had something weird going on as he kept stealing the ball from Scott or even throwing plays to keep Scott away from it while the other members weren't tossing a single pass Scott's way no matter how advantageously he was placed. "Come on, Scott, don't lose your cool," I muttered, and Scott glanced in my direction. No way. Could he seriously…? "You can hear me, can't you?" Despite the tense and angry stance Scott's body had assumed as he waited for the ball to be in play again, he flashed what looked like a half-hearted grin in my direction. "Okay, alright, this is good. Now just, try to focus on getting the ball in the net. Just that. Okay?" I wasn't sure if it was helpful because Scott just settled a little deeper into his stance.
The other team had possession and Scott managed to intercept a pass, hurtling the ball across the field to Peter, who was positioned right near the opposing team's goal.
I leaned forward, my knee bouncing with anxious energy. We were down four to five and this shot could potentially bring us back up to even footing. Peter jerked forward, the ball flying smoothly towards the unguarded side of the net and the goalie seemed to be moving too slowly to get to it in time when a defense player from the other team leapt into the path of the ball and executed this perfect, spinning, in-the-air catch with his net, tossing it to a teammate on the other side of the field. It was only a few moments later that we were down four to six. "Alright, we still have a chance of winning this, don't get riled up," I reminded Scott in a voice so quiet I could barely hear myself, "Just stay focused and breathe. A lot. And deeply. Like yoga. I heard it's relaxing." Was… Was Scott laughing? I squinted and tried to make out his face through the helmet, but suddenly Scott stiffened, staring fixedly at Jackson and the other players from our team gathered in a small circle. Whatever they were saying seemed to make a risky situation turn horribly, horribly worse. As my anxiety grew, my leg bounced higher and faster.
Scott began to slouch forward like he wanted to go on all fours and I wished I could just run out onto the field and drag him off. Or that he'd get his ass over here so I could help calm him down. However, the ball was almost in play again and Scott was taking his place on the field, so I wasn't exactly confident he'd listen if I reminded him of the fist bump idea. I wasn't sure I would, in his place. It even sounded lame in my head. Quick, Scott, get over here so I can fist bump you into relaxation! Actually, on second thought, it didn't sound lame. It just sounded really, really wrong. And now I was probably red in the face on top of the jumping knee. Great.
Dave reached over and pushed my knee down, holding it in place, "Stop it. You're making the whole bench shake." When he released my leg, I tried to keep it still but the nerves within me were jerking and twitching and shocking one another with high voltages so it was only a matter of seconds before it started up again. Dave put his hand on my knee with a slight twitch of the vein in his neck, "Stilinski."
"Sorry, sorry," I cringed, not really paying attention to what he was doing since Scott was out there looking this close to wolfing out. Aforementioned werewolf looked up at the sound of my voice and I whispered, "Stay calm." His gaze lingered on me longer than necessary and he returned his attention to the game with his posture more animalistic than before. Dave took his hand off my knee with a warning glance and Coach came over to plop down next to me as Scott suddenly and viciously threw himself into the game, single-handedly bringing the score up to five-six.
"Pass to McCall!" The coach bellowed from next to me, nearly bursting my eardrums.
On the next play, however, both teams avoided him, and at one point…
"Did the other team just deliberately pass him the ball?" Coach asked gruffly in bewilderment.
I stopped biting my knuckles to reply, "Yeah. Yeah, they just did that."
"Huh. Weird."
"Mm-hmm," My poor knuckles had to suffer for the comfort of Team Bench. It was knuckle biting or knee bouncing and knee bouncing would end in considerably more pain from the way Dave was eyeing me.
The score eventually rose to six-six due to Scott's inhuman efforts. Out of the blue, though, Scott froze on the field, seconds away from the end of the game and feet away from the tie-breaking shot. He appeared to be wrestling with himself, but no one from the other team dared get close enough to take advantage of his inattention.
"Come on, Scott," I urged into the murmuring hush of the moment, "You can do it, take the shot." And just like that the spell was broken, and the ball somehow miraculously in the net, and everyone was cheering, and I hugged the coach for reasons I am unsure of to this day, and Scott was gone- Shit. I released our ecstatically whooping Coach to join the rest of the team on the field and sprinted as quickly as my legs could take me to the locker room.
I almost developed tunnel vision with how focused I felt, running towards that door. However, when I reached for the handle, someone else's hand was there, too.
"Allison?" I panted, looking up at the brunette beauty as she smiled uncertainly.
"I'm going to go congratulate Scott," she explained without prompting, a grin lighting up her features, "So, I'll just…"
"You can't go in there!" I threw myself across the door before I really realized what I was doing. "Uh, I mean," I groped for an adequate explanation as one of Allison's eyebrows slowly rose above the other one and her hand planted itself firmly to her hip. "It's the boy's locker room! He could be naked! I'll go get him for you!" Allison began to protest but I slipped in and dead bolted the door behind me. "Trust me," I quipped caustically as I walked hesitantly deeper into the maze of lockers, "You really don't want to be in here right now."
"Stiles! Let me in!" She pounded on the door once more before, frustrated, she either walked away or, more likely, sank to the ground to wait me out.
Stubborn girl.
"Scott?" I called tentatively and quietly, "Are you in here?" A skittering sound, like claws on concrete, answered me. "Okay, so probably." I turned in a slow circle, trying to find where exactly wolf-y Scott was hiding in wait for his unwary prey, "Why don't you come out so we can calm you down, huh? You get your teddy time?" Did I really just offer that? To a werewolf? So, granted, I wasn't thinking clearly with an angry werewolf on the loose. The phrasing still could have been a little better in that statement.
There was a thump as something literally landed on the floor behind me. Two caramel-colored arms slipped up the front of my shirt and the body pressed behind me gave a violent shudder of relief before he half-growled at me through his fangs, "Teddy time? Seriously?"
I put my hands gingerly on the bumps his arms made in my shirt and asked semi-wryly but still with a light quaver in my voice, "What would you call this?" It was very warm, very close, and very much a teddy-time type moment. Not that I wanted to be delegated to such a demeaning role but- well, anything for the greater good, right?
"Stiles! I swear I will get the coach!" Allison's shout drifted to us, muffled by the solid oak door between her and entry.
"He's throwing his clothes back on!" I yelled back, "He'll be done in a minute!"
"Fine!" Allison replied, her voice an odd mixture of exasperation and amusement.
"You will be done in a minute, won't you?" I whispered, now aware that Allison was very likely leaning on the door with her ear against the opaque window.
"…Yeah." His quiet voice already sounded less garbled by the fangs but his grip on me tightened a nearly imperceptible amount. Probably a muscle spasm.
Speaking of inexplicabilities, Scott had seemed slightly more in control of himself before he looked up into the crowd. There must have been something more to his wolfing than just Jackson's pettiness.
"I get that Jackson was being a dick, but… what happened when you looked at me that one time?" I asked carefully, still whispering, "Right before you shifted?"
"Nothing," He shrugged against the back of my shoulders, "I just… So, what was happening with Dave?"
"Dave?" I echoed, nonplussed at the random subject change, "He stopped my knee from bouncing and threatened me with bodily harm? What does that have to do with anything?"
"Nothing." Scott's arms slipped out from under my shirt, his fingers lingering on my skin longer than absolutely necessary and he hesitated, redirecting his arm to loop around my shoulders rather than my waist as he walked towards the door.
"Nice to know we are relearning boundaries," I sniped sarcastically and at a normal volume, unlocking the door as I shrugged off the warm- eh, I mean- cumbersome arm. "Hey, Allison. He's all yours."
"Thanks for the seal of approval," She retorted cheekily with a dryness that could potentially give even me a run for my money.
I left; I could come back and change later. Plus, I wasn't particularly pleased with the way Scott was acting. He was holding back something that had triggered his change -when I had been the one who had to help him through it. And which I had missed the celebration for, I might add. The fervor of the crowd had died down when I stepped back into it, but Ms. McCall still found me and congratulated me even though I hadn't once made it onto the field.
"It's your team," She encouraged me warmly, shaking my shoulder a little with a smile, "You train with them, you work with them, and you support them. You're a bright spot and I know they appreciate it. Especially Scott."
"I'm pretty sure Scott's got a new bright spot in his life- if you know what I mean," I waggled my eyebrows, "Even if Allison's totally out of his league."
Ms. McCall whacked me on the shoulder good-naturedly, "Don't say that. Either part of that. Also, Scott probably needs you more than he needs me."
I tapped her shoulder lightly in mimicry of her; adding in the same tone, "Don't say that. Scott will always need you," with a laugh. I felt a little less irritated with Scott, though, and that was all for the better.
Parents and spectators jostled us as the original flood off the bleachers faded into a secondary wave into the parking lot.
"Are you going to that after-game party thing Scott was telling me about?" Ms. McCall asked, moving with the crowd which compelled me to stride after her, "I hear it's going to be really uh, cool."
"Oh, uh, I don't think so," I said, shaking my head with a little self-deprecating grin, "Not really my scene." Well, that and I didn't want to see Allison and Scott making out… No- Actually- that came out wrong: I didn't want to see Lydia and Jackson making out again. Not that I'd want to watch my best friend making out with anyone either but… Let's stop there. We'd reached the edge of the field and I stopped, hooking a thumb over my shoulder at the locker rooms, "Well, I gotta go and change." Clothes. Not into a werewolf like your son. Why did everything I was thinking about seem to come back to that?
"Bye, Genim," Ms. McCall waved at me with a knowing smile as she stalked out into the parking lot. She never seemed to just walk anywhere. That woman moved with purpose.
I suppose it was to be expected from the woman who tossed her no good husband out on his ass without a twinge of insecurity.
Allison had gone by the time I made it to the locker room, and a lot of the team was half way through the process of putting on their street wear when I walked in and was accosted by Scott.
"I kissed her," He told me.
Well, there went my mood down the toilet. Had to rub in his relationship status, didn't he? "Great, Scott; I'm happy for you, really."
"She kissed me back," He continued obliviously.
"Oh, wow, really?" I asked sarcastically as I pulled off my shirt, "How was that?"
A shifting indecision molded his face, "It was… Kissing, I guess."
"No, seriously? Like lips touching and everything?"
"Yeah… It just…" Scott hadn't caught on to the sarcasm yet. I feared for his continued intelligence. He sat heavily next to me, "It didn't really feel like anything."
I stopped in the middle of removing my foot from the second leg of my pants, "Run that by me again?"
"It just felt like, you know, lips touching," Scott mumbled in frustration, "Like it wasn't anything special."
"That's… But you really like this girl! Why doesn't it…" I trailed off, unsure where I was headed with the question when I had so many possibilities. "Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure," Scott muttered into his hands, "How could I not be sure?"
"Well, have you, you know, kissed anyone else?" I asked awkwardly, resuming my changing and trying to ignore how Scott was overlooking my state of undress to watch my replies without scruple.
You know, I had always thought it was only girls who would talk about this kind of thing, but I found myself more and more entangled in the web of male gossip as we all got older and it evolved to match that of the girls in elementary school. As in, effective and scarily accurate. Sad, that.
Scott's bright red blush answered for him and he grinned half-heartedly, "Just you, apparently."
"Ha, ha, funny. I was trying to save your life, since you don't remember." I couldn't help but reflect his feeble grin back at him, and it seemed to cheer him a little. I pulled my jeans on, zipping and buttoning them under Scott's unwavering eyes, "Maybe you two just need some practice. Li~ike at the pa~arty toni~ight…?" I devolved into a singsong voice as the sentence went on, a shit-eating grin stretching across my face, "Although… Your technique's probably awful at this point."
"Uh huh," Scott raised one eyebrow at me as he finally got his ass in gear and we gathered what was left of our stuff, walking us out to the parking lot. "And how many people have you kissed?" I opened my mouth to answer and he cut me off with an already irritated smirk, "I don't count."
With a scowl, I muttered, "None, then." Scott looked far too smug, though, so I continued with a haughty air, "I bet Allison would still think I'm a better kisser than you are. After all, I haven't got fangs to get in the way."
"As if. I have much more energy and- and- passion," Scott scowled, still slightly joking. Or so I thought.
"I'll believe it when I see it; until you've proved it, you've got the skills of a dead donkey," I retorted offhandedly, and Scott's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Okay, maybe I went a little too far with that jab, but he'd been asking for it! …Sort of.
Scott grabbed my arm without a word and pulled me off the field, past the bleachers, and into the bushes by the school and there was something off about him. A tinge of the true wolf. An undercurrent of something full of pent up rage and frustration. Ah, poetic rendition. It really seems to subvert my mental faculties when I begin to panic. That and exaggeration. There may have been a healthy bucket or two of that, as well.
Naturally, I didn't offer much resistance. With the less than intelligent comment, I was expecting some kind of backlash, but I didn't exactly see a kiss coming.
Go ahead. Read the sentence again.
It won't change.
Unless someone has some sort of time-bendy ability and they can gun me down before any of this happens- wait, I'm getting off track.
So while Scott was enjoying my tonsils, my mind was racing at a million miles a second. At least, until Scott did something terrifyingly amazing with his tongue and it almost instantaneously shut down. For a few minutes, I had the chance to fully appreciate the sensation of sliding tongues and strong hands running over my back and sides even as I tangled my fingers firmly in Scott's hair.
When we surfaced for good, I couldn't do much more than stand and try to catch whatever breath Scott hadn't sucked into himself, watching as his eyes flashed sporadically while he watched me watching him.
If that was the way he'd kissed Allison, he definitely didn't need any practice.
…Allison.
Wait, fuck Allison. What about Lydia?
"It's a good thing we're such good friends, or I might've read into that burst of wolf-y temper a little," I tried to speak normally through my breathlessness and I could tell it came out sounding worse than I'd intended, but I couldn't drudge up the energy to care. The leaves rustled in the wind, as if emphasizing my point.
Scott flinched slightly away, as if he'd been leaning in closer a moment before, "Yeah." He dragged up a grin from somewhere; "Bet you can't say I'm a bad kisser now."
"I've had better," I dismissed him casually, stepping out of his arms and regarding him with a smirk, "Try it that way on Allison tonight, huh?"
"You haven't had better," Scott snorted, his arms seeming stiff by his sides.
"No, Scott, despite telling you I haven't had my first kiss yet, I've obviously kissed loads more and better than you," I rolled my eyes good naturedly, pulling him out of the bushes since he didn't seem in any danger of wolfing out any more. His eyes had settled on a color and his nails and teeth were behaving.
Of course, I should have chewed him out for stealing the first kiss that could have rightfully been Lydia's but… I didn't really want to think about what it could mean. At all. Ever. I was living happily in the land of 'Let's pretend this never happened' and I never wanted to leave.
"That was sort of too far for a joke, wasn't it?" Scott laughed nervously, all of his joviality slipping from his fingers like sand. The harder he gripped at it the faster it slid away. He looked more guilty than anything and I figured it had more to do with Allison than with me, but…
"I'll forgive you." The words popped out without prompting and I was surprised to find I meant it. Even if I had had another first kiss to be stolen and he'd taken it from me again, I'd still have been able to keep from being too mad at him. It wasn't like it'd been entirely un-enjoyable or that he'd hurt me or infected me or done the multitude of other, worse things I knew he could do to me. And it was just me, after all. No one else had to be hurt by this so long as no one found out about it. We were still alone, right?
There was a cursory check of the environment required with that thought. Scott was looking at me like I had sprouted a second head after I was done surveying the domain. He was actually genuinely smiling again, though, so it was okay that he got a laugh in at my expense.
"I'm driving you home?" There wasn't a lot I could do to make the questioning tone leave the sentence, so I figured I might as well wait for a response.
"I think my mom-"
"Oh, she left a while ago," I explained, cutting him off rudely since he was just going to go over the bits I already knew, "I wasn't actually asking. I am driving you home."
"Pushy," Scott accused with a vague, uneasy smirk.
"Only 'cause you're a pushover."