Both of Us ▸ Stiles Stilinski (1)

xxiii. THE HALE PLOT TWIST

  I smacked his shoulder, earning me a glare. Not caring, I grabbed my phone back.

  Scott was rambling. "I looked. There's nothing in it, on it, on the back. Nothing. It doesn't open."

  I sighed, leaning back in my seat. "Of course it doesn't."

  "Whatever. But where the hell are you guys? Stiles is supposed to be here. He's first freaking line!"

  There was a bit of a scuffle on the other end. And I could hear Finstock yelling something about Bilinski. Really? Stiles is on the team and in his class and he still doesn't know his name. It's like Lydia 2.0. Just minus the heels, make up and in the body of a forty year old man.

  "Tell Stiles that if he isn't here to start, he's not going to be first line anymore and he won't be able to play," Scott told me after a moment.

  I sighed, before relaying the message.

  Stiles groaned, smacking his head against his seat. "I know. Tell him that if he sees my dad, to tell him that I'm coming. I'm just going to be a little late."

  I opened my mouth to tell Scott, but he cut me off. "Heard."

  Really? His super hearing works through the phone.

  "Alright. We'll see you soon, okay? Bye," I said to Scott quickly hanging up.

  Derek looked at Stiles. "You're not going to make it."

  "I know," Stiles replied with a frown.

  Derek looked back at me. "And you didn't tell him about his mom."

  "He has a lot on his plate right now," I told him. "Figured we'll tell him later. This will only get him more worked up. And a worked up werewolf on a lacrosse field is kind of the last thing we need right now."

  "Why are we here anyways?" Stiles said, looking ahead at the sign.

  Beacon Hills Hospital. Long term care.

  "To find out the truth," Derek replied shortly.

  I nodded. "And we're going in for you, why?"

  "Because I'm sort of the most wanted criminal in all of California."

  I nodded again. "Right. Sorry about that."

  He didn't respond, looking back at Stiles. "Oh, one more thing."

  Without warning, he grabbed the back of Stiles' head, slamming it down onto the steering wheel. Stiles bolted back up, clutching his nose.

  "OW! What the hell was that?" Stiles cried in pain. My eyes widened as I put a hand on his shoulder.

  "Jesus," I muttered.

  "You know what that was for," Derek growled. Oh, the Danny thing. "Go. Go!"

  Stiles complied easily, practically leaping out of the jeep. Anything to get away from the werewolf who just smashed his face into the wheel. For the second time tonight, I smacked Derek's shoulder before getting out.

  "God damn freaking werewolf," Stiles hissed as we walked towards the building.

  I turned to him, a concerned look on my face. "Are you okay?"

  "No, getting my face slammed into my car is what I look forward to every day," he grumbled sarcastically.

  I hit him upside the head. "No need to be a dick, Stiles. That's what you did to get yourself in that mess."