The Bite

3: Werewolf

Scott's knee bounced up and down. His eyes darted across the field in nervousness. He chewed on his thumbnail while watching all the other boys warm up. They were all a lot bigger than him and Stiles, a lot faster too, not to mention actually athletic.

"Hey, Scott, it's okay." Stiles placed a reassuring hand on his thigh, trying to stop his leg from bouncing. It was usually Stiles who would get jittery before something like this but for some reason he was calmer today.

"You've got your inhaler, haven't you?"

Scott nodded. He had already checked five times but still his hand reached back to check again. "Yeah, yeah, I do." He mumbled.

Suddenly his vision was blocked by Stiles' face.

Stiles was crouching down on the grass in front of him, blocking his view of the pitch. His eyes flickered over Scott's face as though he was thinking of what to say to him. Stiles had been a lot gentler with Scott today. It wasn't new per say, Stiles had always been nice to really only Scott but Scott noticed that for whatever reason, it was amplified today. Stiles' hands were on Scott's shoulders, bunching up his jersey.

"It's just lacrosse." Stiles decided to say.

There was a scoff from behind him and Stiles turned around to face the team captain, Jackson. Stiles stood up to face him properly and raised his eyebrow in challenge.

"'Just lacrosse', Stilinski?" Jackson gave him an annoyed look. He looked behind Stiles to Scott and smirked. "As if either of you have a chance." He scoffed.

Scott glared at him, his leg bouncing again, but he knew Jackson was right. He instead bowed his head to glare at his shoes in defeat. Stiles, however, took a step forward.

"Just you wait, Whittemore." He growled out, his voice dropping in anger.

Jackson looked surprised. Stiles usually shot back with a nervous, sarcastic answer. He looked serious now. Jackson just scoffed again and walked away, not wanting to waste anymore time on the co-dependant outcasts.

"Stiles," Scott said softly. Stiles immediately dropped out of his defensive pose and sat back on the bench next to Scott. "He's right. We don't stand a chance. I'm surprised we're even still on the team, we've never played."

Stiles shook his head. "You've been training for this, haven't you? This years gonna be different."

Scott offered Stiles a smile in return for his reassuring words. He nodded, his friend giving him confidence.

Suddenly coach blew the whistle, gaining the attention of the team and spectators. Scott stood and put his hand out to help Stiles up. They wandered anxiously over to the group to hear Coach's sorry excuse of a pep-talk.

"Was that meant to be supportive?" Stiles mumbled to Scott once coach had stopped rambling. He received a perplexed look from his friend in return.

After dismissing them, Coach shoved a long stick into Stiles' hands. "You're in goal, Bilinski."

Both Scott and Stiles' eyebrows shot up in shock before Stiles frowned. "But, Coach, I haven't played before." His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip.

"I know," Finstock smirked. "The boys need a confidence boost." He clapped Stiles on the back and laughed as he walked away, blowing the whistle again.

Stiles looked down at the stick, his anxiety finally catching up to him. He had been so preoccupied throughout the day with everything he could suddenly hear, see, and smell, that he hadn't had time to even think of practice. Now he could feel his hands beginning to shake.