coffee breath | D.H

2.4

"come on! is that thing even a teenager?!" coach screamed. "i want to see a birth certificate!" he sat down next to stiles. "who or what is that genetic experiment gone wrong?"

stiles sighed. "eddie obomowitz, coach. they call him 'the abomination'."

coach rolled his eyes. "oh, that's cute."

"his last name is obomowitz?" sillie pipped up, now sitting on the other side of stiles. "obomawitz, like barack obama, or obomowitz?"

"obomo."

"a homo?"

"o-bo-mo!"

sillie made a face. "ew." she glanced up, narrowing her eyes at jackson grabbing scott's arm.

"mccall," jackson said. "what the hell are you waiting for? this is the semi-finals - bring that roid head into the ground."

"me?" scott furrowed his eyebrows. "you're the one who said that i was a cheater."

"and that freak of nature being on the field is fair? do something!"

"i can't," scott gritted out. "not while allison's grandfather is here."

sillie sighed, glancing to where allison and gerard sat. "come on, allison, any time now."

allison met sillie's eyes, getting a nod of encouragement. she inhaled slowly, turning to gerard. "i knew i should have brought a warmer jacket." she rubbed her arms.

"you're cold. here, take my coat." gerard stood up, taking off his coat and handing it to her.

"are you sure?" allison asked.

"oh, yeah."

allison stood to, putting it on. 

they sat back down, the teen taking out the keys and dangling them by her side.

the play went on.

"good god, is it always this violent?" gerard asked.

sillie scoffed. "that's rich coming from you, asshole."

allison just took a deep breath, not replying to her grandpa.

"now," sillie signaled, tapping stiles' shoulder.

stiles nodded, getting up and heading toward where allison was, subtly walking by and taking the keys she stuck out for him.

she waited five minutes, glancing between her phone and the game. he hadn't texted yet.

me
everything ok?

another minute or thre passed.

little man
yeah sorry, i had to do something first. currently heading to gerard's office

me
ok, be careful

≡≡≡

"how many fingers am i holding up?"

"four?"

"say two."

"two?"

"perfect. now, come on! get out there and have a stick."

"coach, you know he probably has a concussion, right?" sillie checked.

"no!" he denied. he lowered to her level, whispering, "i cannot loose anymore players, sillie! so keep your medical mouth shut so we win the game!" he stood back up.