clearly, you and stiles are spending more time together again because that's a horrible idea.
[ 4.03 ]
A pair of heavy, leather boots were propped on the table in Derek's loft. Peter eyed the mercenary, annoyed by her carefree persona.
"That table's Italian," Peter told her, narrowing his eyes.
Braeden shrugged. "So are these boots."
"And they cost more than the table," Willow chimed in, admiring the nice shoes.
Willow sat in between the two Hale boys on the couch in Derek's loft. They were meeting with Braeden to try and find out what happened to Peter's money. The woman was sitting across from them in a chair, with her feet propped on the table.
The only one that was welcoming was Willow, who was only there until it was time to leave for school. Peter was busy making snarky remarks about Braeden while Derek flat-out ignored them for the most part. He had his sunglasses in hand and was staring at the reflection of his eyes in them.
Willow comfortingly squeezed his arm, knowing what he was thinking about. Shortly after returning to his normal age, Derek realized that his werewolf eyes weren't blue anymore. They were yellow. And that alone terrified him, which was why he arranged for Peter and Braeden to meet and discuss finding Kate.
"Are we going to talk interior design and fashion, or are we going to talk numbers?" Braeden asked, raising an eyebrow.
Braeden and Peter began a dance of sorts. Willow watched as Peter wrote a number down on a piece of paper and slide it across said Italian table. Braeden immediately crossed it out and wrote her own price. When Peter saw it, he scoffed and shook his head, appalled by how high it was.
"We're hiring you to find Kate, not assassinate the president," Peter snapped at her. He scribbled out the number — Willow didn't catch a good look at it, but she could tell that it was at least seven digits long.
Yet again, Braeden was unimpressed with Peter's offer and wrote down another extravagantly high figure. "I was hired by the Calaveras to find Kate. You're hiring me to find her first. Going against the Calaveras is what's going to cost you."
Before Peter and Braeden could begin bickering, Derek snatched the piece of paper and ripped it in half impatiently. "We'll pay. Just find Kate. That's all we want."
With confirmation that she would be getting her money, Braeden set out to try and find some leads. Peter was seething as he slammed the door shut behind her.
"Are you insane?" Peter asked, turning to glare at Derek.
"We don't have a choice," Derek muttered. He placed his hands on the table by the window, deep in thought. "We spent a week looking for her and came up with nothing."
"If we don't find out who told Kate about the vault, we don't get those bonds back. What do you think I'm gonna do then, huh? Get a job?" Peter asked. Willow almost smiled at the thought. "My resume is slightly out of date! We got robbed, Derek. Robbed!"
Fed up with Peter's whining, Derek turned and roared loudly in his face, fangs bared and yellow eyes glowing. Peter took a step back, unable to believe what he was seeing. But now he knew why Derek was just as desperate as him to find Kate.
"Oh, that's a new look for you," Peter said a bit anxiously. "What happened to your eyes?"
"I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm willing to pay to find out."
"Look," Willow said, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. They needed to both calm down. "We'll find out what's happening to Derek, and we'll get your money back, Peter."
"And what am I supposed to do until it's found, huh?" Peter asked her, crossing his arms. He looked like an upset child.
"Well, I'm sure if you asked nicely, Willow could give you an allowance," Derek said, smirking.
Peter scoffed, unimpressed. "Don't make jokes, Derek. You're bad at them."
"You could also sell Derek's Italian table," Willow suggested.
"It's my table," Derek told her, crossing his arms. Then he glanced at his uncle, eying him carefully. "Don't steal my coffee table while I'm taking her to school."
"Ooh, off to your little cheerleading tryouts?" Peter asked her in a teasing tone.
"It's not mean if I really am off to my little cheerleading tryouts," she stated, grabbing her backpack from beside Derek's bed.
There was a before-school conditioning session, and the actual tryouts would be held after school. As captain, Willow would be in charge of teaching them the routine and selecting the squad members. And Peter had an endless supply of jokes and teasing comments about her being a cheerleader — he had been saving them up, unable to use them before because he was running around and killing people as the Alpha.
"Want me to pick you up after tryouts too, or are you gonna catch a ride with Stiles?" Derek asked Willow as he held his car door open for her.
"Only if you're not busy," she said. "You know — furniture shopping and whatnot since Peter's gonna resell your coffee table."
Derek chuckled while rolling his eyes before going around to the driver's side. "Trust me, he has a lot more expensive furniture in his own apartment — which he never seems to be at."
"It definitely looks like an apartment of a man with millions of dollars," she said, leaning her head back against the seat. "Speaking of — I recall many a teasing comment about my house and family money when we first met. But you've been secretly rich this whole time."
"I mean, it wasn't a secret," he said, smiling. "And you're still a billionaire, Willow. You own several huge properties, including vacation homes in upstate New York and the mountains in Washington."
"Yes, and you know what those houses have? More than four pieces of furniture."
He scoffed playfully and shook his head. "I have more than four pieces of furniture, and you know it."
"You barely have more than that," she said under her breath. "And all of it except the Italian coffee table that Peter picked out was bought second-hand from the thrift store. There's nothing wrong with that, but it's understandable why I was so shocked to find out you're a millionaire who owns the entire apartment complex."
"Um, not everything was bought second-hand. I bought the mattress new," Derek pointed out.
"And does that mattress have a bed frame or is it just lying on the floor?" Willow asked rhetorically.
Derek could only let out a hearty laugh, knowing she had a point. "You can have a say in the decorations when you live there too."
Willow wasn't sure if that counted as an actual invitation to move in with him one day — she hoped it was. "Oh, we're going straight to the nearest IKEA when I do," she said, grinning.
"Is that something you'd really want?" Derek asked, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "Live with me?"
"Only if that invitation extends to Scribbles," she claimed, toying with the ends of her skirt.
"Of course it does," he said, grinning. "His presence will probably keep Peter from coming over so much."
"Not true. Peter secretly loves Scribbles," she told him, giggling. The big bad former alpha just wouldn't admit it to the others. "Scrib would love the loft — lots of space to run around."
"Maybe after you graduate. I don't think Sheriff Stilinski would like me too much if I stole you away before you finished school."
Willow didn't point out that he was already stealing her away every other night — not that she minded.
"I don't know how we're gonna get glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling though," Derek added as an afterthought, a soft smile on his lips.
"I'm thinking a really tall ladder stacked on top of another really tall ladder."
"Clearly, you and Stiles are spending more time together again because that's a horrible idea."
☽︎
Willow walked in between Scott and Stiles, heading to the lacrosse field. They had a morning practice session in preparation for lacrosse tryouts while Willow was running the conditioning session for cheerleading tryouts just next to the field.
"Of course, you're still the team captain," Stiles told Scott. "You got your grades up, just like Coach told you to, right?"
"Yeah — thanks for tutoring me, Will, by the way — but he never told me I was back on the team," Scott replied. "He just told me to show up at tryouts today."
"Please. You're Coach's favorite, Scott," Willow reminded him. "He wouldn't just give the position away. Probably."
"Probably?" Scott asked, his eyes wide.
"We got bigger things to deal with, anyway. Did you tell Argent yet?" Stiles asked him, referring to Kate's return.
"Uh, I texted him, but he didn't get back to me," he muttered.
"You told him his sister Kate came back from the dead over a text?" Stiles asked, incredulously. Willow silently agreed with him, thinking that it should've been an in-person conversation or at the very least, a phone call.
Scott shrugged sheepishly at their disbelieving looks. "I didn't have the money to call France."
"I could've called France," Willow pointed out.
"Yeah, you think you got money problems? Try paying for an MRI and a visit to Eichen House," Stiles said, sighing.
"Another notice?" Scott asked him.
"Yeah. This one said final," he told them, sighing. "Will tried to secretly pay it off, but I guess he called the billing department and requested no one be able to cover it if he didn't approve it."
Willow pouted, recalling the long talk with Noah about how they weren't her responsibility. It was clear that Stiles got his stubbornness and pride from his father, who wouldn't give in to any of her arguments. She wasn't giving up though, determined to help Noah whether he wanted it or not.
"Now, what the hell are we doing here, anyway?" Stiles asked as they neared the field. "We got like, one hundred and seventeen million problems, and worrying about our status on the lacrosse team is not one of them."
However, when they walked past the bleachers and saw all the new potential players practicing, they came to a full stop. Willow watched with wide eyes as freshmen boys played with the skill of a senior. Two, in particular, were lobbing ball after ball at the goal. But not a single one made it in, effortlessly blocked by the boy in front of it. He caught them with almost inhuman speed.
"It is now," Scott mumbled, his eyes wide in disbelief.
"Who the hell is that?" Stiles asked, pulling on his hair. If this was what he was up against at tryouts, he might not even make second string.
Just after his question, the boy in the goal took off his helmet, revealing a baby-faced freshman with brown hair. His blonde friend who had been shooting was the one to answer Stiles' question unknowingly.
"Nice, Liam!" Garrett exclaimed. "You might just be our first-ever freshman captain."
Scott's face fell even more, worry and doubt creeping up on him. Maybe he and Stiles did need to worry about their position on the team.
"Okay, maybe we should just practice a little bit," Stiles admitted.
"Good luck," Willow said, giving them comforting smiles as they sat their equipment bags down. Then as they rushed to the field, she started walking over to where the potential new cheerleaders were stretching.
However, she was intercepted — well, not really intercepted. She was walking past Danny, who had been adjusting the strap on his helmet, and he grabbed her wrist. He too was watching the Liam guy, who was back to blocking every single ball that came his way.
"I don't wanna be pulled into your supernatural shit, but is that kid a werewolf?" Danny had to ask, his eyes wide. "Is he cheating?"
Willow had momentarily forgotten that Danny admitted to Ethan that he knew about werewolves all along. She quickly collected herself and shook her head.
"Um, I don't know. They don't exactly get ID chips like dogs," Willow admitted, watching the boy as well. "I'm sure Scott will find out if he is. But you don't need to worry or panic or anything—"
"I am panicking!" he said, grabbing her shoulders. "I'm the goalie, Willow. And what position is he kicking ass at right now? Goalie! I'm gonna lose my spot."
Willow mirrored Danny's position and put her hands on his shoulders. "Danny, you're one of the best players on the whole team. Everyone loves you. Coach loves you. And for all we know, he's not trying out for goalie. He could just be good at all positions. Don't worry. You've got this."
Danny took a deep breath before nodding. "You're right. You're right. But if he is a werewolf, tell him to cut that shit out. Scott at least acts human ninety percent of the time."
"Copy that," she said, giggling. "Just go use the other goal to warm up. Show these freshmen exactly why you're ranked as one of the best goalies in the state."
☽︎
"I just can't believe you're doing this to me."
"Malia, it's not the end of the world—"
"Yes, it is!" Malia exclaimed. She and Willow were walking to their precalculus class together. "Two weeks ago, you told me that you'd be my tutor and get me all the way through school, but now you're telling me that you're graduating early and leaving me!"
Willow grabbed her hand and squeezed it sympathetically. "I'll still be in Beacon Hills. And that means I'll still be around to help you every day after school."
Because Willow and Lydia had been taking AP and Dual Enrollment classes starting when they were freshmen, they had known since sophomore year that they'd have enough academic credits to graduate early. But feeling a need to stay with their friends, both girls originally planned to take a single extra class so that they'd stay at school.
But after a lot of thinking and debating and a long "motherly" talk with Natalie Martin, Willow made the decision to graduate early. School and her education were just so personal to her, and missing days because of the never-ending supernatural drama caused her a lot of strife.
She wasn't going to go off to college right away. Willow was planning on taking a gap year. Maybe then, she'd finally be able to recover mentally from everything that had happened since the moment Scott got bitten by Peter. At the rate they were going, Willow barely had time to dwell on all they'd lost, including the bits of themselves.
Surprisingly, Malia was taking the announcement the worst — granted, out of everyone in the pack, she didn't know how important school was to Willow. She didn't want anything to get in the way of that additional year, and so Willow wouldn't do it at all.
"But you're still leaving me at school," Malia said, frowning. She kept a tight grip on Willow's hand. "I thought we didn't leave people."
Whether she was meaning to or not, Malia's words made Willow feel incredibly guilty. Second to Stiles, Malia was closest to Willow. They spent almost every day together after school doing homework, and that time quickly turned into a close friendship. Willow hated that Malia thought she was leaving her.
"Hey," Willow said softly, tugging on Malia's hand. "You don't have to worry about me leaving. All you need to worry about is math."
Malia's face fell even more as they stepped into the classroom. She took one look at the board, which had several complex equations and integrals that needed to be solved, which she didn't understand. The werecoyote quickly backed out of the room, dragging Willow along with her iron grip.
But before Malia could completely flee the scene, Stiles appeared from behind and pushed her back into the room. Willow couldn't help but grin as Malia grimaced.
"I hate math. It's pointless," Malia complained.
"It's school," Stiles stated as they took their seats. "School is important, and math is essential."
"To what?" she asked him.
"Knowing how much to tip at restaurants," he answered, winking at her.
While Willow giggled, Lydia sighed in annoyance. "And other less important things, like medicine, economics, engineering," she listed.
Stiles nodded along with a stupid smirk on his face. "Tipping."
As the bell rang, all complaints about math and comments about how useful tipping was came to a stop. Ms. Fleming stood in front of them all and gestured to the problems on the blackboard. " All right, volunteers to the board — Lydia, Diego, Malia."
Malia, who hadn't raised her hand, looked up sharply from her textbook, like a deer caught in headlights. "Um, I didn't volunteer."
"You did now," Ms. Fleming told her. "To the board."
As Malia reached the board and picked up a piece of chalk, Willow heard her lowly growl from her seat in the front row. She could also hear Lydia whispering to her, who flew through her problem effortlessly.
"Did you go over the notes I gave you?" Lydia asked her.
"I didn't understand them," Malia told her. "Will's make more sense."
Lydia sighed, knowing that she and Willow took almost identical notes — she figured Malia was just playing favorites.
"Malia," Willow whispered, looking down at her paper so that no one would see her lips moving. The werecoyote slightly turned her head. "X equals twenty-five."
Malia quickly scribbled down the answer, knowing she'd have stood there like an idiot if Willow or Lydia hadn't helped her. She was also glad she wasn't assigned one of the more complicated calculus problems like Lydia had. What even was an anti-derivative?
"Sweetheart," Lydia said, pursing her lips as she watched Malia write the answer. "Put away the claws."
Malia looked down at her fingers holding the chalk with wide eyes. She hadn't even realized her claws came out, much to her embarrassment.
While the other members of the pack focused on math and school, Stiles was glued to his phone. He got a notification about a triple homicide that happened overnight, and already, his mind was overcome with theories about what happened and what kind of creature did this.
By the time the bell rang, he practically chased after Scott, who was walking alongside Kira and Willow to the lockers.
"An axe-murderer?" Kira questioned, a grimace on her face.
"A family-murdering axe-murderer!" Stiles exclaimed.
"I already heard about it," Scott admitted sheepishly.
Stiles looked at him in disbelief. Why was this the first he was hearing of it? "Wait, what? You did? How?"
"My mom called me. She knew we'd see it on the news," he explained.
"Perfect! Let's go," Stiles said, pointing toward the door.
"Whoa, whoa," Scott stopped him before he could run off. "We've got Econ in five minutes."
Stiles scoffed and narrowed his eyes at Willow. "You're rubbing off on them."
Willow shrugged innocently. "Heaven forbid everyone actually stayed in school the whole day for once and care about their education."
"Care about their education," he repeated in a high-pitched, mocking tone. Then he groaned in annoyance. "All right, did you forget the part about the family-murdering axe-murderer?"
"Did you forget your dad's the sheriff?" Scott asked him pointedly. "They want us to stay out of it."
"Are you guys kidding me? There's a family-murdering axe-murderer and we're not going to do anything about it?" he asked incredulously.
"Maybe we should just let the adults handle it," Kira told him hesitantly.
"After the horribly traumatizing year we've all had, I think it might be best to not intentionally seek out the family-murdering axe-murderer," Willow told him, clutching her books to her chest.
"So, the three of you, you just want to stay here, school, go to class?" Stiles asked, earning nods. He let out a disgusted scoff. "Never heard anything so irresponsible in my life! This is your fault, Willow!"
"You're right. I'm overwhelmed with guilt," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes as Stiles stormed off.
"See you at tryouts?" Scott called after him, chuckling as Stiles continued to throw a fit. Then he rushed to get everything out of his locker. Kira and Willow remained. "Hey, so that thing you wanted to talk about?"
Clearly, he was speaking to Kira, who looked a little upset. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, can we talk about it later?" Scott asked, not noticing her face. "After tryouts? Do you mind waiting? It won't be that long."
"Um, I — Sure," she replied after a minute.
"Great. See you then!" Scott said, shutting his locker.
Then, in a rush to get to Econ on time and not get on Coach's bad side for tryouts, Scott hurriedly kissed Kira before grabbing Willow's hand and dragging her to class with him. Willow looked back at Kira over her shoulder with wide eyes — a similar expression to the one Kira was wearing. Scott didn't seem to realize what he'd done until he sat at his desk, his smile fading.
Willow was standing by his side and bit her lip to keep back a smile.
"Oh, God," Scott muttered. He looked up at Willow. "Did I just do that?"
"Kiss Kira like she was your Abuela Delgado?" she asked, referring to Melissa's mother.
"Yeah. Like that?"
"Yeah, you just did that."
☽︎
Cheerleading tryouts weren't nearly as extensive as lacrosse tryouts. They went over a few basic cheers, followed by sorting girls into bases, flyers, and spotters. Then there was a routine set to a Jonas Brothers' song that they had to get through.
When all was said and done, Willow sat on the bench on the lacrosse field, looking through all her notes on each person that tried out. Any time Coach Finstock had a free moment, he'd make a comment to try and help her decide. She'd repay the favor by periodically watching the lacrosse tryouts and pointing out things that she knew he was looking for in future players.
Stamina was one of those things he was looking for — and evidently, not many of them had it. Willow leaned forward and watched with her chin resting in her hands as the boys ran around the field, finishing up the last of many laps they had to run. Coach timed them with his stopwatch, growing more unimpressed as the seconds passed.
"Terrible! Horrifying! Pathetic! Unbelievably pathetic!" Coach lost all enthusiasm as the boys dropped like flies. He wasn't even blowing his whistle anymore. "Is that everyone?"
Willow covered her eyes as Stiles finally came to a stop. The boy was drenched in sweat and wheezing like a severe asthmatic. Then he collapsed on the grass pathetically.
"Yup, that's everyone," Coach muttered.
Scott came over to his best friend and helped him stand. "I got you."
"Who came in first?" Stiles asked, gasping for air. In response, Scott nodded to Liam. He was surrounded by boys on the ground, resting. But he was still going, doing one-legged push-ups at an insanely fast pace. "He isn't human! What is he? Like, a werecheetah? Does that even exist? Is that a thing?"
"I think he's just good," Scott muttered doubtfully.
"I'm gonna puke," Stiles declared, clenching his eyes shut. "Take me somewhere."
"Not over here!" Willow squealed when Scott began to drag Stiles toward her.
"Idiots," Coach muttered, shaking his head. "Five-minute recovery then line up to take shots. Danny, you're in goal!"
"I'm sure they'll shape up," Willow said as Coach plopped down next to her on the bench.
"They'll never be what we had," he grumbled. "Even with that Power Ranger ninja kid. Whittemore, Lahey, Boyd. All gone."
"You've still got Danny, Scott, and Stiles," she said, rubbing his shoulder.
The sound of Stiles throwing up from behind the bleachers hit their ears.
"You've still got Danny and Scott."
Coach snorted and smiled for the first time since tryouts began. "Say, Worthington, you wouldn't know anything about my bill at the hospital getting anonymously taken care of, would ya?"
"Not a thing, Coach," she said, nonchalantly. Willow looked down at her clipboard to avoid Coach's knowing look. "That's great though! This place doesn't exactly pay you what you're worth."
"Mhmm." Coach watched her for a moment longer. "You know, I've got no clue about all that crazy stuff with you disappearing and the bombs and the arrows, but you don't have to go around footing the bills of everyone hurt just because you got dragged into it."
Yes, but what he didn't know was that she helped cause it. Coach almost died. The least she could do was pay the ten thousand dollars in hospital fees, especially when it didn't even make a dent in her fortune.
"Well, like I said," Willow told him. "Wasn't me footing the bill."
"You're a horrible liar, Worthington," Coach said softly. "Thank you. Seriously."
Pleased that Coach wasn't too proud to throw a tantrum about letting Willow pay, the rest of tryouts continued. Willow also finished selecting the roster, meaning she could set aside her clipboard and pay attention. She shot a text to Derek, letting him know that he could pick her up whenever.
Naturally, Liam was the first in line — he just had to show off. If there had been any doubts about Liam only being good in the goalie position, they were instantly washed away as he expertly shot the ball into the net, so fast that Danny hardly had time to react.
"YES!" Coach shouted, jumping up and down.
Stiles was up next. Willow winced when he struggled to even get the ball off the grass and in his net. Eventually, he gave up and grabbed it, dropping the ball in his net. Then, with a determined look, he reared back and threw it. They all watched as the ball flew at a leisurely pace before landing right in Danny's net. He didn't even have to move.
All the other boys laughed at him as he moved to the back of the line, a frown on his face. Though, Stiles being bad wasn't a new development, so his feelings weren't too hurt.
Scott was the next to go. Willow grinned brightly, knowing he could finally show off, letting Liam know that he couldn't just swoop in and steal Scott's position as captain. But then Scott made a shot even worse than Stiles'. It hit the corner of the goal, bouncing right off.
"Nice, McCall!" Garrett said sarcastically as they all laughed.
"Hey, Garrett," Stiles said, glaring at the blonde freshman. "Shut up!"
As tryouts went on, things only got worse. Scott and Stiles both missed shot after shot. They seemed more pathetic than normal — especially when Stiles ended the last season as the MVP of the championship game. It really got to the point that Willow was almost embarrassed to call Scott and Stiles her best friends.
When she spotted Stiles pulling Scott to the side, she ran over to them. Maybe she'd be able to talk some sense into them or give them a desperately needed pep-talk.
"Dude, what is going on with you?" Stiles asked Scott.
"I don't know, I'm having a really off day," Scott muttered.
"Off day?" Stiles asked in disbelief. "You were dying out there! I feel actual physical pain watching you."
Scott stepped back, offended by his words. "I didn't see you make any shots," he mumbled.
"Yes, that's because I'm terrible, though, Scott! You — you are the alpha."
"Not on the field. I'm a human on the field."
"Well, human-you is kind of sucking at the moment. So, do you think there is any way you can use just, like, a little tiny bit of wolf power?" Stiles asked.
"It's cheating..."
"I know it is! It's just, I hate seeing this little freshman come in and steal all your glory after you worked your tushie off! I hate it!" he ranted. Stiles just hated Liam.
"He's not going to steal all the glory," Scott said.
It was perfectly timed as Liam made a fantastic shot. "Yes! Hot damn! Yeah!" Coach exclaimed excitedly.
Willow sighed and put a hand on both Stiles and Scott's shoulders to get their attention. "Look, you guys have to get it together. First off, Scott—"
Scott looked down at her with wide eyes. He really did look like a helpless puppy dog to her — a helpless puppy dog who was doing really bad at lacrosse at the moment.
"There's nothing wrong with using your speed and agility on the field. Need I remind you that you made first string last year by doing backflips? And that was when you were trying to stay hidden from hunters. So, use a little bit of werewolf-ness or you're gonna be like freshman Scott. And freshman Scott was—"
"A fucking loser who sucked," Stiles chimed in, making Scott roll his eyes.
"And you—" Willow said, now facing Stiles. "Who was it that scored the three winning goals of the championship game last year in the last two minutes when everyone and their mother thought we were going to lose?"
Stiles was almost shy as he looked down at his cleats. "Me."
"You!" Willow said louder, grinning at him. "You were amazing, Stiles. All on your own. You can do that again, and this time, I won't be recovering from a gunshot wound and will actually get to cheer for you. You are not a benchwarmer anymore. Got it?"
After a moment, Stiles nodded and smiled. "Yeah. I'm not a benchwarmer."
Ready to switch up the drill, Coach blew his whistle and had all the boys surround him. Both Scott and Stiles kissed her on the cheek — they were sweaty, and she cringed — before running off to join them. Willow then made her way back to the bench.
"Hustle!" Coach shouted. "McCall and Stilinski, grab the long sticks! You're covering goal for two-on-ones."
"Good luck," Willow called as the two boys grabbed the long sticks.
Thankfully, Willow's talk seemed to do the trick. Despite their disastrous start, they worked in sync to keep anyone from scoring. They knocked the stick out of Garrett's hand before he even realized it was gone.
"That's my boys!" Coach cheered. He looked back at Willow and a few boys that weren't in line. "Those two are like sons to me."
Willow smiled softly. Coach talked a big game, but Scott was going to end up in the captain position — if it was ever even open to begin with.
No one stood a chance against Scott and Stiles as over half the boys failed to make a shot past them. That was until Liam stepped up. Before putting on his helmet, Willow spotted the extremely intense and angry look he was sporting, which contrasted the babyface he had greatly.
Liam rushed forward and then easily maneuvered out of Stiles' way — granted, that wasn't difficult. But then he got past Scott and took the shot, the ball flying past Danny as well.
"That's how you do it! That's how it's done!" Coach shouted, glad that at least someone managed to score.
"That was luck!" Everyone turned to see Malia standing up in the bleachers. She was glaring at Coach and Liam.
"Oh, no, Malia," Stiles muttered under his breath, somewhat embarrassed. "Don't get involved."
"Do-over!" Malia shouted.
"Sweetheart, there are no do-overs," Coach told her condescendingly. "This is a practice."
But then Malia said exactly what she needed to in order to change Coach's mind. "Ten bucks on Scott and Stiles!"
"I'll take that action!" he declared. Then he pointed to Liam at the back of the line. "Hey! Get back in there, Liam!"
Everyone watched as Liam and the boys got back in position. Willow repeatedly whispered, "you've got this" under her breath. Scott and Liam glared at each other across the field.
It all happened very quickly. Liam charged, once again slipping past Stiles. But the human caught the edge of Liam's stick at least, distracting him enough so that Scott could shoulder-check him. Liam was airborne for two seconds before he landed wrong on his leg.
The sickening crunch hit all their ears as Liam groaned in pain, collapsing on the grass. Willow gasped and covered her mouth as everyone rushed to him.
"Don't move! Don't touch him!" Coach shouted. "Don't move!"
Though Liam didn't listen. With his hands grabbing Scott and Stiles for support, he sat up. "I'm okay, Coach. I'm all right," he said, taking a deep breath. But then as soon as he put a little bit of weight on his leg, he screamed in pain. Scott and Stiles quickly shouldered all his weight, keeping him upright. "I think it's my leg."
"I think we better get him to the nurse," Stiles told Coach.
Willow had been so distracted watching them carry Liam to the school that she didn't notice Derek, who was standing behind her. He had arrived just in time to see how mangled Liam's limb was.
"Did Scott just break a child's leg?" Derek asked, fist tightly gripping the back of the bench.
"Like a twig."
"And this is why werewolves don't play sports."
"You played basketball," she reminded him, looking up at him over her shoulder.
"And yet I never maimed any fifteen-year-olds," he said smugly. "You ready to go?"
"Yeah. Let me just grab my bag from the locker room—"
Willow cut herself off when a stray lacrosse ball soared through the air and past their heads, straight toward the bleachers. Malia was right in its path, who was too distracted by her math homework to notice. But before it could hit her, a lacrosse stick stopped it. Kira had moved with lightning-fast reflexes to catch the ball.
"Wow! Nice catch!" Coach said, looking at her, impressed. "Throw it back."
Kira thought for a moment before standing. Though she'd never thrown a lacrosse ball, she mirrored the form that the boys had been using. The ball soared through the hair and hit Coach in his stomach, sending him to the ground.
"Oh, my God!" Kira exclaimed.
"Coach!" Willow shouted, rushing over to him. He was clutching his stomach and wheezing weakly.
"Someone ask her if she's ever played lacrosse," he demanded, clenching his eyes shut. "Oh, God. I'm dying again."
"Coach, are you alright?" Willow asked softly, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"Right in the fucking arrow wound."
☽︎
After arriving at Derek's loft, he and Willow were soon joined by Braeden. She managed to secure the file with all the details about the homicide that happened by pretending to be a U.S. Marshal — well, for all they knew, she could be an actual U.S. Marshal.
While Derek flipped through the police report, his back was turned so that Braeden could change out of her fancy disguise and back into a tank top and jeans.
"That's a really pretty bra," Willow complimented.
"Thanks," Braeden said, grinning as she pulled on her shirt. "How about I get you one in pink, and then we can match. Seems like you like that color."
"I do," she said, looking down at the pink sundress she had changed into.
"Um, I'm not gonna pay you if you try to seduce her," Derek said, rolling his eyes.
"Worried?" Braeden asked with a cocky smirk.
"There's nothing in here about Kate," Derek noted, moving the subject along. After everything with the Nogitsune, he knew he had nothing to worry about when it came to Willow and her feelings. "This killer used an axe."
"Actually, he used a military tomahawk," Braeden said.
With her finished changing, Derek turned around and eyed her suspiciously. "That's not in this report."
"I know," she replied coyly.
"Are you going to tell us what else you know?" he asked her, crossing his arms.
"Not yet, 'cause I don't really know much," she admitted.
"But you know something," Willow noted. She could tell by the look on Braeden's face.
"Maybe," she said, shrugging. "The problem is the people I need to talk to right now, don't talk to people like your boyfriend."
"You want me to wait for you?" Derek asked. He was tired of waiting for more answers.
"I want you to trust me," Braeden said, walking around his table to stand across from him.
"And why would I trust you? I don't know anything about you," he said.
"Yeah, well, I know you. And I know what you really want — you want what Kate stole from you," Braeden said. Derek tensed up at her words. How could she possibly know about his yellow eyes? "Briseann an dúchas trí shúile an chait. It means, 'The true nature of someone is reflected in their eyes.' In your case, the color of your eyes."
Derek wanted to know how she knew so much but he also knew that she wouldn't explain herself. In fact, she was already headed to the door, planning to leave. Derek sighed before grabbing her shotgun, which she'd left on his table.
"You get a week," he told her, not wanting to wait any longer than that. Then he tossed her the gun which she easily caught.
"Think she was serious about getting me one of those bras?" Willow asked, leaning against Derek's side. He only sent her an amused look. "What? It was super cute. Very lacy — it can replace the one you ripped last week."
"I didn't hear you complaining in the moment."
☽︎
Willow sighed as she sent the last picture of her math notes to Malia. Apparently, the reason she couldn't understand Lydia's notes was that they were utter nonsense — it was likely banshee-related, but she wanted to ignore that until it was an actual problem. Willow instead promised to meet with the werecoyote early the next morning to go over them in case she had any questions.
"But if you meet her early, that means you leave here early," Derek complained after Willow informed him why her alarm would be going off earlier than normal.
"You're very clingy, Derek Hale," she joked.
Derek snorted and shook his head. "You are literally clinging to me as you said that."
It was true. After putting her notes away, Willow had hopped off the couch as Derek was passing and jumped to him. He caught her easily, and now she was clinging to his side like a koala as he moved about his loft.
"Fine," Willow said, sighing dramatically. "I'll get down since I'm such a—"
"Nope," Derek interrupted, holding her even tighter. "You're trapped now. No escaping."
Willow smiled sweetly and leaned in to press her forehead to his. "Clingy," she whispered before kissing his cheek.
Peter would vomit if he could see how nauseatingly cute and domestic they were when alone.
As they walked past the kitchen, Willow snatched a bottle of Gatorade. Derek watched her struggle to open it with one hand while still holding on to him, so he readjusted her so that he was keeping her up with one arm under her butt. Then he twisted the top off as she held the bottle.
"Thanks," she said, leaning against his shoulder after taking a sip.
Once Derek took a seat on the couch, she leaned forward and sat it on the coffee table. "Glad to see Peter didn't sell this while I was at school."
"For all we know, it could already be listed on eBay," Derek said, rolling his eyes. "He's very desperate, what with you not giving him his allowance."
"Well, if I'm to give him an allowance, he needs to work for it. You know, mow the lawn—"
"I don't have a lawn."
"Watering the plants—"
"I don't have plants."
"Walking the dog—"
"Are you calling me a dog?" Derek asked, laughing loudly. Willow squealed as he tickled her sides, pulling her onto his lap.
"Stiles, Lydia, and I exclusively refer to you all as dogs whenever we're on our own," Willow admitted, smiling. "But I never said it to your face — didn't wanna hurt your feelings."
"Well, feelings hurt," he said, turning his head so that he wouldn't have to look at her. But Willow knew he was only joking, which made her smile even more.
"Oh, how shall I ever make it up to you?" she asked, playfully rolling her eyes.
"You could stay home with me tomorrow?"
Willow laughed sarcastically at the request. "Yeah, right!"
Derek simply shrugged. "Worth a shot," he said. Then he gently pulled her against him, letting her rest her head on his chest.
Willow relaxed against him and shut her eyes, sighing softly. She could fall asleep right there in his arms, the steady sound of his heartbeat bringing her all the comfort she needed as he combed his fingers through her hair. Derek smiled softly when she nuzzled her face against his chest to snuggle even closer.
"Clingy," Derek whispered.
"I'm alright with clingy."
Much to both their annoyance, the clingy cuddling session ended early. Almost simultaneously, both their phones went off with incoming messages. They shared a look, knowing it couldn't be a coincidence that they were contacted at the same time.
"Mine's from Scott," Willow said, reading off her phone. "Wants me to meet him at his house ASAP. Did he send you the same?"
Derek shook his head while frowning. "It's from the Sheriff. He says he needs some help at the hospital with something."
"What are the odds that they're completely unrelated?"
"Slim."
"Great."
☽︎
[ we're gonna cool it on the trauma and angst for a few chapters besties. just some fun times and fluffy willow & derek moments. and no, braeden and derek won't be happening, but i love her character so i'm not writing her out of it. maybe she can teach willow some self-defense when she's helping derek. we'll see
also, derek hale needs some friends his own fucking age. he needs more than willow and cora and peter in his life ]