Storm // Teen Wolf // Scott McCall (Discontinued)

The Game

"What the Hale are you - what the hell are you doing, Hale?!" Finstock bellowed as I bolted out onto the field.

I needed to get to Scott. He couldn't play without me telling him good luck.

"Scott!" I yelled, grinning when I saw his face light up.

"Sawyer!" He chuckled as I jumped into his arms, smiling.

"Good luck," I whispered, my breath warm on his ear. Scott hummed, and I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. "You're going to do great," I assured him, ignoring Finstock's yelling.

My best friend was grinning as I backed off the field, smiling.

Now I just had to talk to Stiles.

I stood in front of my brother, rubbing my arm nervously. He looked up at me with wide eyes. "Sawyer?" He asked, his voice betraying his confusion.

I couldn't say anything.

Stiles had a black and blue and purple bruise on his jaw.

A black and blue and purple bruise made by my fist.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gulped, shaking my head. "St-stiles, I-I'm sorry," I whispered, hugging my sides. "I'm so sorry."

My brother stood, his caramel eyes wide. "It's okay, Sawyer," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me. "It's okay."

I buried my face in his shoulder as he pulled me down onto the bench.

How could I have hurt him? My brother?

I mean, Stiles wasn't Derek. But that just made him Stiles. My Stiles, my brother. It didn't matter if we didn't share the same blood.

He was my brother.

I lifted up my head, glancing out at the field. "I'm going to try something. I... I've only done this once, for a friend of my mom's. But I..." I shook my head, taking Stiles's hand.

He watched in confusion as I concentrated, narrowing my eyes on our joined hands. I watched as the veins on my hand turned dark purple, and I felt a stinging in my jaw.

I closed my eyes as the pain gradually went away, and I looked up at my brother.

His bruise looked ten times better.

I smiled triumphantly. "That worked better than I hoped," I commented, shrugging. Stiles touched his fingers to his face, eyes wide.

"It doesn't hurt so bad anymore," he murmured. I nodded, grinning. "Yeah! I kinda took a bit of your pain away. It worked, huh?"

He chuckled, giving me a not-so-awkward-cause-it's-Stiles-and-everything-is-awkward-with-Stiles hug. "Yeah. What'd you say to Scott?" He asked, his gaze turning to the court.

Scott hadn't gotten the ball once.

I was positive it had something to do with Lydia Martin's boyfriend, the captain of the lacrosse team, Jackson Whittemore.

I shrugged, brow furrowing. "Just good luck and all that. He'll do great, if he can get the ball," I added, sending a glare Jackson's way.

The captain spread his arms in a 'What did I do?' gesture, making me roll my eyes. You know exactly what you did, dumbass.

"Hale, even if I ask nicely, that's not going to get you off the bench, is it?" Finstock asked, glaring at me.

I grinned cheekily. "Nope, probably not," I told him, shrugging. "You know, we kinda suck today. Maybe they should, I don't know, PASS TO SCOTT!" I yelled, knowing Jackson - that jackass - could hear me loud and clear.

Finstock gave me an annoyed look. "No bench coaching, Hale," he quipped, looking back at his players.

I looked to Stiles, mouthing, 'Bench coaching?' He shrugged, brow furrowed.

And soon, the game turned around.

Scott caught the ball in mid-air, plucking it out of the sea of red Beacon Hills Cyclones jerseys and chucking it into the net.

The crowd roared, cheering for my best friend. I was probably the loudest.

"PASS TO MCCALL!" Coach yelled. "PASS TO MCCALL!"

I could see a flash of Scott's eyes turning yellow, but quickly dismissed it. I had faith in my best friend - he wouldn't shift on the field.

I watched in awe as one of the opposing players tossed the ball into Scott's net, looking terrified.

Finstock blinked. "Did the other team just lass us the ball?" He asked, glancing at me and Stiles.

I shared a Look with my brother, who answered, "I believe so, Coach."

Finstock's brow furrowed. "Interesting."

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