Til The Dawn [Midnights #1] ✓

chapter 1

Stiles had known before Scott had even come over that this was all they had planned on doing that night. Even if they definitely needed to be doing homework. Scott more than him. Sure, it was true that school hadn't technically started yet, but they had a senior reading list they had ignored that they could be catching up on. And there was the whole thing about starting a new set of classes neither of them was prepared for, but here they were. Doing none of that.

And it had been the same all summer. They practiced lacrosse all day, Scott going way harder than he should, and then they'd come back to his empty house and collapse and play with the old police scanner that he had promised his dad he'd thrown away until one or both of them fell asleep.

Surprisingly, Stiles wouldn't have it any other way. It was boring, but that was Beacon Hills. In the grand scheme of things, his life wasn't all that bad.

"You really think I can't make first line?" Scott asked quietly.

Stiles couldn't help but roll his eyes. They'd already talked about this. Ad nauseum. He was over it. And the answers never changed. No matter what, it would be over tomorrow after tryouts. But Stiles couldn't help himself as he snarkily replied either.

He snorted. "You can't make third line, dude." He paused, letting that sink in before he continued. "I get that you wanna play lacrosse, but you're, like, cursed or some shit. Double-cursed, if you will."

Scott pushed himself up on his elbows without sitting all the way up. "Double? Why double?"

"Asthma, for starters," Stiles answered quickly, holding up a finger. "You're never gonna be a great athlete with asthma, Scott. And that's just the luck of the draw." He held up another finger, not bothering to turn around and face Scott. "Also, you suck. Like, pathetically suck. Worse than I suck. And I didn't even think that was possible."

Scott laid himself back on the bed again, putting his hands behind his head, and scoffed for good measure. "I don't suck," he mumbled.

Stiles just shrugged, but otherwise stayed silent as he continued to flip through the channels on the scanner. He was laying on his stomach and it was starting to get uncomfortable, but he didn't want to move either. He was sore in places he didn't even realize muscles could exist, so he wasn't really amped up to do anything other than exactly what he was doing already.

"I just want everything to be different this year, ya know?" Scott continued, seemingly undeterred by Stiles' lack of interest. "I wanna get good grades, make a better spot on the team, and find a girlfriend. It's senior year, Stiles. Don't you think we deserve that?"

"Sounds like a fluffy teenage dream you got yourself there, dude," Stiles argued.

One more turn of the dial and suddenly his heart was beating wildly in his chest as he heard voices for the first time. He had taken this thing apart more times than he cared to admit, just for something to do, but it had paid off. Finally.

"Yes! I got something," he said, moving himself into a cross-legged position quickly. "I knew I could get this piece of shit to work eventually."

Scott laughed behind him, but Stiles didn't let it dampen his mood. "Why do you even bother with that thing? I know your dad is sheriff, but, like, all he does is arrest drunk kids and homeless people for trespassing and stuff like that. There hasn't been any crime in Beacon Hills since..."

"The Hale Fire?" Stiles interrupted, waving his hand dismissively. "Yes, I am aware of that."

"They never proved that was arson. Doesn't count as a crime," Scott countered.

"We all know, dude," Stiles complained, turning around to Scott for the first time. "And that's only because they never had any suspects. There's a huge difference there."

A call coming through crisply broke up their argument as they both turned to the radio now. Stiles couldn't believe his luck, even if it was just going to be a drunk teens call. It was nice to have something work out for once.

"Sheriff, I have a possible 1-8-7 out here. Just on the edge of the Hale property. South side," the voice explained, causing Stiles' eyes to go wide.

Scott sat up straighter and looked at him, confused, but Stiles just held up a finger before his best friend could ask questions. He didn't want to miss a word.

"Okay, set up a perimeter and I'll bring the calvary," his dad returned. "What makes you think it's a 1-8-7, deputy?"

The radio dissolved into static once more and Stiles grimaced as he grabbed the scanner and shoved it under his bed roughly. He didn't have time to get it back online now, and it didn't really matter anyway. They had all the information they needed to get out there.

"Piece of shit," Stiles muttered as he stood up, looking around for his shoes.

"What's a 1-8-7?" Scott asked, watching Stiles as he rushed around his room grabbing things. "And where are you going?"

Stiles stopped so suddenly he could tell he was going to give Scott whiplash, but he didn't care. He blew out a harsh breath and then put his hands on his hips.

"That's code for murder, Scott."