Saturday's early morning lacrosse practice was filled with tension for all concerned. Most of the team was nervous and excited about tonight, understandable since it was the first game of the season. Coach Finstock was even more of a slave driver at practice since his star player was going to be playing with a dislocated shoulder. And said star player played more brutally than usual as if to prove to himself and everybody else that a dislocated shoulder was not going to hinder him in any way. He was the best player Beacon Hills has ever seen and nothing will change that.

However, the biggest tension among the team was between two of the newest first liners and it had nothing to do with the game. All throughout practice Scott and Stiles were virtual mirrors to Romeo and Juliet. They kept shooting each other longing looks whenever the other one wasn't looking and yet doing everything they could to avoid the other boy. If anyone was paying any attention to them, it wouldn't have been long before rumours started circling the school about their torrid love affair.

Luckily for them, no one was watching so they were free to moon over each other in peace.

OoOoO

When Stiles wasn't busy lamenting his deteriorating friendship, he was busy worrying about tonight's game. He didn't know what time the M.E. would have finished examining Laura's body and this meant that Derek might not be released in time for the game, so he had to find other ways to keep himself from going all wolf on the lacrosse players.

Maybe he could find an anchor within the next eight hours.

The practice game has started with Danny as Captain of the Red Team and Jackson as Captain of the White Team. He was in the Red Team while Scott was in the White Team with Jackson. He was playing on autopilot and when Danny passed him the ball, he caught it by instinct. He was surprised to find that even with his mind elsewhere, he could still play lacrosse decently. He wasn't as smooth as he was during eliminations but he didn't suck either.

However, barely paying attention to the game meant that his reflexes weren't as good so when Rodriguez, one of the biggest boys in the team, tackled him, he wasn't able to avoid it. The hit sent him crashing to the ground and then the other boy's momentum caused him to topple over and fall on top of Stiles. Worse still, Rodriguez landed on Stiles' right foot and his shout of pain was heard throughout the field along with the sickening sound of bone breaking.

The pain that shot through his foot was excruciatingly real and thanks to his previous training sessions with Derek, Stiles could tell that it was broken. And like all those other times when Derek broke his bones he could feel himself healing immediately. The feeling of his bones snapping back into place and his tendons slowly stitching themselves back together was something Stiles was probably never going to get used to. From experience, he knew it would probably take a couple of hours for his leg to fully heal and unlike before, that knowledge wasn't making him feel better.

Normal people didn't heal from a broken bone in just a matter of hours. Desperately he begged his body to stop healing. Don't heal. Don't heal. He kept thinking. He didn't want his secret to be found out this way.

The pain has faded by now but Stiles continued to play the part of injured lacrosse player as Coach Finstock started checking him over. The rest of the team gathered around Stiles and Rodriguez at this point, Scott was there too. He removed his helmet and carefully removed Stiles', taking care to make sure he didn't hurt his friend anymore.

"Are you okay?" Scott asked him.

"Yeah." He smiled, "Yeah I'm fine."

By the time the medic got to the field Stiles has already felt his wolf listen to his silent demands to stop healing. He turned to look at his foot and almost vomited at how unnaturally twisted it was. His wolf has only partially fixed the break and now it looked like he just had a sprained ankle.

The medic gently took off his shoe and inspected his foot, applying pressure to certain points and carefully twisting the injured appendage.

"So Doc, what's the verdict?" Asked Coach.

"Well, he's lucky. It looks like a sprain to me but he's gonna need an X-Ray to be sure. In the meantime, keep it iced to reduce the swelling." He then got an ice pack from his kit and pressed it on Stiles' foot.

Stiles flinched at the sudden coldness but instantly recovered. "Do I really need an X-Ray? It's just a sprain, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"Normally I would agree with you but your teammates said they heard bone breaking and so it's best to be sure there isn't an underlying fracture that I can't see."

He desperately tried to think of a way around the X-Ray. Not only could he not afford it, but if the doctor confirmed a fracture and he healed within a few hours, too many questions would be asked and he didn't have the appropriate answers for any of them.

"I really don't think I need an X-Ray." He said, "If it was a fracture it would hurt a lot right? This doesn't feel that bad. Honestly, it's just a sprain."

The medic frowned and just as Stiles was beginning to worry that he would push it, Coach came to his rescue.

"Hear that? My players are made of tough stuff!" The older man beamed at Stiles and patted his uninjured leg, "And my new star player here is definitely not gonna miss tonight's game!"

"Woah he is not playing tonight." Said the Medic.

"What the hell are you talking about? He just said he was fine."

"Whether or not he has a sprain or fracture, he's not gonna be able to play tonight." The medic explained, "Even a simple sprain is gonna take weeks to fully heal. With how fresh this thing is, he's not gonna be able to stand let alone run or jump in the field tonight. If he forces it, he could cause more damage."

Coach Finstock looked absolutely destroyed. It was like someone just stole every valuable thing in his house and left him with the crappy coffee maker that might as well turn coffee into dust. After what happened to Jackson, he was counting on Stilinski to pull his weight and win tonight's match for them and then this happens!

"Umm Coach?" Stiles said, interrupting Coach's impending panic attack, "Maybe I should sit out tonight's game. Just to be on the safe side. It's better if I just miss the game altogether than go out there and lose it for us. Or worse, do more damage to my foot and be out of commission the rest of the season."

"The rest of the season?!" Coach exclaimed, "Could that really happen?"

The medic nodded and Coach turned back to Stiles, "No way! Stilinski you are not playing tonight!"

Stiles smiled internally but managed to keep any of his joy from showing on his face.

OoOoO

The rest of the practice went much more smoothly. Coach benched Rodriguez for the next three games since he held the other boy responsible for injuring his new talent. He'd even insisted that Stiles go home, rest his leg, and get better so he can watch the game tonight. He said it was important for Stiles to get a feel for the real game. All that was left to do was get him a ride home.

"My dad took away my car for the weekend Coach."

"Of course he did." Coach cursed. "Can he come pick you up?"

Stiles shook his head. His dad was still at the station working on Derek's case and waiting on Laura's full autopsy. Stiles needed him to stay there so Derek can be released in time to watch him at the game.

Scott volunteered to drive him home but was quickly vetoed because, "McCall, do you even have a car?"

"Not really."

"Didn't think so." Coach said, "So you're staying right here with the rest of the team because – " He raised his voice so it carried to the rest of the field, " – if either one of you slackers get hurt or injured before the game, I swear I'm making you all do suicide runs for the rest of the year!"

Coach Finstock looked around the field for someone who can drive Stiles home. There weren't many options considering it was a Saturday but Coach was determined. Hell, he'd be willing to send Greenberg to drive Stilinski home if he could be sure he wouldn't crash the car or trip on Stilinski's injured leg. Lucky for Coach though, a student walking to his truck in the parking lot saved him.

"Hey! Hey you!" Coach called out to the student. He turned around, confused.

"Yes, you! Come here!"

Still confused, the student walked over. "Coach?"

"What's your name kid?" Coach asked, "You are a student here, right?"

"Boyd. I'm a senior."

"Perfect." Coach patted Boyd's shoulder and led him to where Stiles was sitting. "I have a job for you Boyd. I need you to drive the future of the Beacon Hills Lacrosse Team to his house so he can rest."

Neither boy seemed pleased with this and they immediately protested. It wasn't anything against each other, Stiles and Boyd didn't know enough about each other for that but Stiles didn't think a chauffer was necessary and Boyd had half an hour to get to his shift at the ice rink.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle to silence their protests. "Okay, Boyd, how about this, I'll put you on the team if you do this. Right? Big guy like you, you'd be a great defenseman."

"No thanks."

A beat then…

"How about forty bucks?"

Boyd agreed and Coach handed him the money. And with Coach Finstock, the medic, and Scott bugging Stiles to go home, he finally caved. He remembered to keep limping as Boyd and Scott walked him to Boyd's red 1976 Ford Pick-up Truck.

He could hear a lot of his teammates talking about what happened and swearing they heard his bone snap. Even Rodriguez was sure he felt something break when he landed on Stiles. He was just thankful that Allison wasn't watching the practice, the last thing he wanted was for her to have heard what happened and start getting suspicious of him.

OoOoO

The first few minutes of the ride was quiet. Boyd didn't seem very keen on conversation and Stiles was still coming to terms with what happened. His leg was hurting, his ego even more so, but at least he had a solid excuse to miss the game tonight and keep everyone around him safe from the angry wolf inside him. That, that was good, totally worth crippling himself and giving up the chance to play the game he loved to make his father proud. Worth not being able to show up that jerk who just happened to be his Captain. Even worth hearing Lydia cheer for the other players knowing he wasn't one of them.

Totally… worth it.

Furiously shaking his head, Stiles screamed at his mind to think about something else lest he lose his nerve and do something insane like play. He had to remind himself that no matter how much it sucked to miss this game, it was so worth it to know he would not be a killer.

"Where do you live?" Boyd asked and Stiles grabbed onto the question as if it were a life preserver. He gave his address easily but then asked Boyd to take him to the Sheriff's station instead.

"I just need to talk to my dad for a bit."

"Coach told me to take you home."

"I know but my dad's at the station. I just really need to talk to him, and if I need to, he'll just drive me home."

Boyd considered it. He didn't know Stiles, the Coach had already paid him, and he needed to get to work. But the boy was limping earlier and it didn't sit well with Boyd to just leave him somewhere he wouldn't be resting his leg.

"How's your leg?" He asked.

"It's fine, it doesn't even hurt really. Just tender." Stiles said.

Boyd sighed, "Fine, but put some ice on your foot so it won't swell up."

"Thanks man."

The scenery flew past the window as Boyd changed course, it wasn't anything Stiles hadn't seen before, in fact he's pretty much memorized it by now. When worry over the game threatened to overcome him again, Stiles filled the silence.

"Nice truck, man. Well, it's nothing like Roscoe but it looks really good and it runs smoothly."

Undeterred by Boyd's silence, Stiles continued. "Roscoe's my jeep. My pride and joy. Used to be my grandpa's but no one's used it in like years. My dad said I could have the jeep if I could get it running again. And I did, Roscoe is perfect, he just needed a little TLC."

Stiles remembered when he first heard Roscoe's engine sputter to life after he started working on it. He was so excited he started jumping up and down and wrapped his sweaty, greasy arms around his protesting best friend.

The wistful smile on his face was immediately snuffed out when Boyd finally, finally, started talking.

"I've seen you driving that jeep around town, you might want to re-evaluate your definition of perfect."

Stiles narrowed his eyes at the other boy, "Hey! Roscoe is perfect. He just has a few issues and taking him to the mechanic costs too much."

Needless to say, Stiles was very protective of his beloved jeep. In an ideal world, he'd get Roscoe all the new parts he needed, but this wasn't an ideal world. This was the real world where car parts were expensive and mechanics were assholes who jack up the prices as high as they can get away with. Even being the Sheriff's son didn't spare him from that. So yes, Roscoe is part duct tape until Stiles could make some real money.

"Then figure out how to fix him yourself."

"Don't you think I'd considered that? But there's only so much I can learn off of YouTube and dad's no more an expert than I am."

"If it's important you make time and you put in the effort."

Stiles scoffed, "Easy for you to say when your truck's not falling apart and…"

"I rebuilt this truck myself."

Hearing this caused Stiles to look at the truck he was riding in a new light. There was no excessive vibration of the seats, no loud rattling coming from the engine, no infuriating stalls while driving. Though Roscoe was getting better at those stalls, it's been weeks since that last happened no matter what Scott says.

"You did?"

Boyd nodded, "It was important to me so I made the time and put in the effort."

Taking a chance, Stiles asked Boyd to teach him how to do the basics. Just the basics so he can at least look like he knows what he's doing when Roscoe breaks down.

"No."

"Oh come on! What would it hurt? Aren't we friends now?"

Taking pity on Stiles, Boyd elaborated, "I work two jobs outside of school Stiles, I can't teach you even if I wanted to."

"Alright, fine." Stiles said, "Could you at least give me something? Like a generic thing to do when all hell breaks loose? Something applicable to every scenario."

For the first time the entire ride, Boyd smiled cheekily at Stiles. "Duct tape."

Stiles gaped at him. The cheeky little…

Just as he was about to return with a snarky comment at the other boy, they arrived at the station.

"Should I wait for you?" Boyd asked.

"Nah," Stiles said, "I'm probably gonna be a while. See you at the game tonight."

Boyd nodded and then Stiles was gone, limping his way into the station.

AN: Fun fact about me, I am pretty much everything the stereotypical introvert is. I wear glasses, have a ponytail pretty much always, rarely think about what I wear, and most of all total shit at physical activity.

I remember this vividly, for three years I kept on spraining my left ankle on the month of July for each of those years. The first year, I sprained it while jogging in place, second year it happened as I was going down the stairs (though in my defense, it was dark and I may or may not have been reading on my phone), and for the clincher, the third year I sprained it getting out of bed.

*takes a bow*

Yes, yes I know. It's a talent.

But enough about my clumsy self, how did you guys like this chapter?

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Updated: September 12, 2021