Tiring Mornings

chapter sixteen

Terrance King 

"Stiles," I grumble, pushing his hand away. "It's one in the morning. Go away."

Stiles climbs on top of me, sitting cross-legged on my stomach. He grabs a pillow and hits my face with as I groan louder. At this point, I'm pissed off. Knowing it's my only hope of getting Stiles off of me, I say, "What, Stiles? What the actual fuck do you want so badly that you're sitting on top of me while hitting me with a pillow at one in the goddamn morning?"

"Wake up," Stiles says, hitting me one last time before crawling off of me. "Trust me, you won't regret it."

"Yes, I will," I groan, but get up from bed.

Stiles tosses me a sweater and some shoes before dragging me out the door. As we make our way through the corridors, I realize that he's leading me outside.

"What is going on, Stiles?" I mumble.

Stiles looks at me with passionate honey-colored eyes, "You've been getting pretty close with Hannah, which means less Terrance and Stiles time. I'm making up for that." 

Stiles pulls me outside as I roll my eyes, "Stiles, is this about the sweater?"

"I deserve that sweater, okay?" Stiles huffs. "But no, that's not it. I sort of made a bet with Lewis that I'd pull a better prank than him."

"Oh no."

"Oh yes," Stiles grins wickedly. He leads me to a parking lot, taking out the keys to his car. Turning the car on, he opens the trunk to take out a huge cage. 

A cage with three full grown chickens in it.

My eyes blow up to impossible proportions. "Stiles! Why do you have three chickens?"

Stiles' grin just gets wider. He takes the cage out, placing it on the ground by the car and turning the car off. Picking up the cage again, Stiles holds the cage out to me, the sudden movement making the chickens cluck.

I realize he's handing it over to me, making my eyes widen even more, "No way."

"Don't be a girl. They're friendly!"

I consider smacking him. Stiles gives me a pout, widening his honey colored eyes. I grumble a curse at him as I give in, taking the cage from Stiles cautiously, as if it'll burn my skin. A chicken rams its head on the side of the cage, making me yelp and almost drop the animals.

Stiles rubs his hands together, grinning at me. Upon noticing my still confused look, he explains, "We're going to put them in different places."

"Do you know how much trouble we'll get in if we're caught?" I ask.

"We won't get caught," Stiles waves off the topic. With a flick of his hand, he gestures for me to follow. Still holding the cage of chickens away from my body, I follow him uncertainly, still unsure why I'm going along with his plan. Maybe because midterms are coming, leaving me more stressed than ever. I guess I can use a little pranking, if anything, to relax me.

I tiptoe after Stiles, who drapes a cloth he found in his car over the cage so no one can see the chickens. I realize that doesn't help much, considering the sudden darkness makes the chickens cluck even more. 

Stiles smacks the top of the cage, "Be quiet, you fools!"

"I'm pretty sure they don't speak English, Stiles."

"Oh." Stiles thinks about it for a moment. "French?"

I snort, "I'm pretty sure they don't speak French, either."