Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 19

"I can't believe you're not listening to me!" Stiles hisses, trailing shortly behind Scott as he rolls his eyes and pretends he doesn't hear his best friends hundredth warning. "I'm fine," he growls, turning to give Stiles a pointed glare, eyes glowing golden for a second. Stiles doesn't know if he should gloat or take a step back. The young werewolf shakes it off, blinking back to his regular state. "Sorry," he apologizes, "I really am fine."

"If you do something you regret, Scotty, just know I told you so."

"I'm going to keep control. Nothing is going to happen, Stiles. Now come on." Stiles sighs and follows Scott back to their lockers, passing Derek who has his head cocked slightly to the side.

"It's game time, ladies!" Coach shouts, earning everyone's undivided attention. They all grab their helmets and jog to the field.

Stiles takes his seat on the bench, rubbing his hands together as he watches Scott take his position across from a guy double his size. "Oh, I do not have a good feeling about this."

The whistle blows and the opposing team member easily knocks Scott backwards, his head bouncing off of the torn up ground as everyone else runs around him for the play. "God," Stiles mumbles to himself, "This is not going to be good."

Danny passes the ball to Derek, who swiftly dodges three blockers and scores a goal within the first minute of the game. Everyone in the bleachers stands to cheer, including Allison.

Scott flips to his feet with a snarl, walking to the next play with clenched fists.

"Come on, Scott. Stay focused."

Stiles tries to keep track of the ball as it's thrown from person to person, landing in the stick of the same big guy that originally knocked Scott over.

"Don't do it, buddy," Stiles mumbles, watching Scott move across the field and right in line with the other player, "Ah, come on, stay out of it." Scott tightens his grip of the stick and pushes off the ground with his right foot, charging directly at the player. "That's not staying out of it," Stiles says through pressed teeth.

"Stilinski," Coach call's, "Who the hell are you talking to?" Stiles pulls the glove, that's he's nervously chewing on, away from his face with a weary expression. "Myself, Coach."

"I shouldn't have asked."

Stiles' attentions darts back to the field, bouncing around for Scott's jersey number. "Where the hell did you go?" The crowd gasps a unison 'oh' in sympathy. "Ah, god," Stiles sighs, realizing the big guy is on the ground not moving. And worst of all, Scott is hovering over him.

They quickly call a time out and teammates begin to crowd the field in one area, everybody becoming a big crowd of red and blue. Medics come out as well, giving Stiles the perfect opportunity to sneak in and pull Scott out.

"I'm fine," Scott snarls as Stiles wraps an arm around his shoulder and begins guiding him away from all of the people. "Scott, I'm pretty sure fangs, claws, and glowing eyes are not fine!"

"Just got off me!" Scott screams once entering the locker room. Stiles backs away cautiously, blocking the exit. "Get out of my way."

"You know I can't do that."

Scott presses his teeth together, concealing a growl as he presses his helmet against the lockers, breathing heavily. "Scott..." The werewolf slowly looks over at his best friend with a dark and distant expression. "Scott," Stiles tries again, hoping to get through to him. Scott doesn't reply though, only begins stalking toward the other male likes he's prey.

Stiles knows what that means, and his only chance at living is to run, but he also can't lead Scott outside to a crowd of people. So he darts further into the locker room, heart pounding in his ears. He can hear Scott trailing his claws against the lockers, making a loud screeching sound. Stiles holds his breath and peeks around the corner, but Scott isn't there. Before being able to realize what that means, there are fingers gasping his throat and lifting his feet from the floor.

Stiles immediately let's out a strangled breath, hands instinctively grabbing onto Scott's wrist in attempt to pry his death grip away. "Sc-Sco—" Stiles gasps, kicking his legs but to no avail. His vision becomes blotchy, oxygen becoming more scarce to his lungs. Before he completely passes out, his skinny body hits the floor with a rough impact, making it even harder to regain his breath.

Stiles pushes himself into a half sitting position, still panting but forcing himself to see what's happening.

Derek has Scott pinned against the wall by his throat, and before Stiles can protest, Derek roars at the younger beta. The human flinches at the mere animalistic growl, but is amazed when Scott shifts back with a look of confusion.

"Derek," Stiles says hoarsely, finally getting off the floor, "You can let him go now." Derek let's out a low snarl, a warning to Scott. "Derek," Stiles says more forcefully, placing a hand on his shoulder. The werewolf then let's go, taking a deep breath before allowing himself to shift back and glances over his shoulder to look at Stiles.