Since the Dead Pool ended, not much had changed. Of course, we weren't running for our lives every second of every day, but other than that, things were as normal as they could be in a place like Beacon Hills. Stiles had gotten back into helping Malia study, while Kira and Lydia were prepping for the AP classes they were going to take their senior year.
As for Scott, he returned to his usual sappy self.
Tomorrow night was his official first date with Kira. They were basically together already, but Scott, ever the romantic, wanted to make it official with a grand gesture. It was sweet of him, and I tried not to be resentful, no matter how much jealousy tempted me. I wished I could be as open with my affection for Liam as Scott was with Kira.
He and I hadn't spoken for days.
The morning after I asked him to stay was probably the worst morning of my life. Waking up in his arms felt right, but it couldn't last. I had to take him home, both of us saying nothing but goodbyes. Since then, I'd been avoiding him. I couldn't even work up the courage to make eye contact in the hallways at school.
It also didn't help that Scott seemed more at ease after I made my promise. He seemed relieved, and admittedly, I was glad to see that. There was a deeper part of me that wanted to ignore his wishes, but I understood that grief presented itself differently for every person. If my not being with Liam helped him heal from Allison, I had to find a way to bear it. Scott had been there for me as I faced my own phases of mourning, so I owed him this, even if it hurt like hell.
"You know, most people just go to dinner for their first date," Stiles quips as we stand in the doorway to Derek's loft.
Scott turns to scowl half-heartedly at his best friend's comment.
His plan was to hang cords from the rafters of the loft's ceiling. Each cord had a socket we could screw a lightbulb into, and have Kira turn on with her kitsune abilities when their date actually began. Scott had it all planned out, he just needed Stiles and I's assistance in setting it up.
"Is that what you and Malia did?" I interject rhetorically, smirking at Stiles.
Scott attempts to hide his laugh for Stiles' sake but does a poor job of it. Stiles gives us both annoyed scowls, but puts most of his attention on me, speaking with one hand on his hip like a lecturing mother.
"Stop smirking and get up there." He gestures to the rafters overhead. A cruel and slightly creepy smile works its way onto his face. "You're tying the cords."
"Where's the ladder?" I retort.
Stiles then proceeds to point to one of the metal support pillars nearby. I groan under my breath as I approach it and Stiles seems overly satisfied with my reaction.
"Yeah, smartass, I bet my dinner idea isn't sounding so bad now, huh?"
I send him a mocking expression before focusing on the pillar. It has large bolts welded into each side of it that I use to scale the post until I can reach for one of the horizontal overhead beams and pull myself up. I sit on the metal column, watching the boys from above. They work to detangle the various cords we brought, tossing them up to me one at a time. I tie them across the rafters and pipes of Derek's ceiling at varying heights, giving it a less uniform display.
"Is Derek coming today?" I ask the boys as I work. It felt strange to be in his home but not actually have him here.
"He said he had some stuff to take care of with Braeden. Why?" Scott replies.
"The other day he mentioned he wanted to talk to me about something but we haven't yet." I shrug lightly.
I wasn't sure what Derek wanted to talk about, but I was interested as to why it wasn't something he could simply mention in passing. It seemed as though he wanted to sit down to discuss it, as it had taken him a while to reach out to me.
"Maybe he wants to be a hunter?" Stiles offers jokingly, referring to Derek's newfound humanity.
"Yeah, maybe," I laugh.
We continue our efforts to get Derek's loft into shape. Scott told Kira he would pick her up before sunset, so we needed to be done with everything within the hour. I remain focused on the task at hand until I hear Scott and Stiles begin to speak in hushed tones below me. They'd already been talking, but their voices had been at a normal volume before. The change in tone piques my interest.
"Have you talked to Liam lately?" Stiles asks Scott lowly, unaware that the structure of the loft allows me to still hear him perfectly from my elevated position.
"Uh, yeah," Scott says awkwardly, glancing up at me. I pretend not to notice.
"Why?" he presses.
"Just haven't seen him around for a while," Stiles replies. He appears casual, but there's something about the way he speaks that makes it seem like he's digging for answers.
"He's probably busy practicing for the game tomorrow," Scott says, averting his eyes.
"And?" Stiles presses, causing Scott to sigh.
"I may have told him that he doesn't need to worry about being with us," he reluctantly admits.
My hands still at his words, shock setting in as I'm privy to a fraction of a conversation Liam had with Scott. I glance down at the boys, finding Stiles is taken aback, too. Disappointment was etched into his features, making Scott shrink.
"Scott, he's your Beta," Stiles states matter-of-factly.
Liam was Scott's responsibility now. When he bit him, every inconvenience or consequence that was a product of Liam's power was on both of their shoulders. That was the burden that came with being an Alpha. Scott knew that, so it made no sense as to why he would let Liam just walk out of our lives.
I began to worry, wondering if he was doing this as some misconstrued way of keeping Liam and I apart. That was the last thing I wanted. If I couldn't be with Liam, I at least wanted the ability to be his friend.
"That doesn't mean he has to be in the pack. I wasn't in a pack, at first," Scott defends himself.
"This isn't like your situation, though," Stiles counters. "Yeah, you had Peter and Derek as your options, but you also had me. This kid doesn't have anyone."
I frown at Stiles' words, hating the truth of them. I had sworn to Liam that I would never allow him to be alone, and had unknowingly betrayed that by accepting Scott's promise. Liam may have had his family and Mason, but they didn't know the reality of who he was anymore. Their lack of knowledge was bound to make him feel isolated; lost.
"You should talk to him," Stiles urges. "Werewolf to slightly more annoying werewolf."
Thankfully, Scott nods in acceptance, though, he does pause midway.
"Which one am I?" he asks for clarification.
Stiles gives him a pointed look, as that's not the main takeaway he was aiming for him to have. Scott winces sheepishly and nods again, earning a proud clap on his shoulder.
"I'll talk to him at the game," Scott concedes.
Relief floods me because of Stiles' actions. I was glad he was here. There was no one Scott trusted more. It didn't matter that Scott bit Liam first, Stiles would always be his first Beta. Allison would always be his second.
I clear my throat, getting the attention of the boys.
"All done," I announce with a forced grin, fastening the last cord.
I climb back down the beam, coming to stand beside the boys. Stiles and I look to Scott, waiting for him to hand us the lightbulbs that had to be screwed into the sockets above us. He doesn't, though. He stands there, staring back at us like a clueless child.
"Hey, buddy," Stiles speaks up. "Where are the lightbulbs?"
"I forgot the boxes downstairs." Scott's face drops. "Someone has to go get them."
"Two humans or a werewolf with superhuman endurance. Wonder who?" I reply sarcastically.
Scott's shoulders sag as he turns around, heading back outside.
"How if you need us," Stiles shouts after him.
I take a seat on Derek's couch, figuring I should get comfortable as we wait for Scott to return. Stiles sits beside me, making it difficult to relax as I could feel his observant stare burning into me. I glance his way, silently questioning what he was doing.
"You okay?" he asks.
I refrain from indulging in my instincts to brush him off.
"Mind if I'm honest?" I ask.
"I prefer it, surprisingly," he says with a teasing grin.
"I don't know," I reply truthfully.
Stiles frowns, and his prying attitude is promptly replaced by concern as he watches me.
"Do you believe in fate, Stiles?"
Stiles seems surprised at my question, but I don't take it back. I'm desperate for his answer, not only because I'm lost, but because he's Stiles. I'd never met anyone more anxious than him, yet somehow, I had also never met anyone more confident. Stiles never doubted himself. Even when people told him he was wrong he held firm to his beliefs. He trusted himself and was actually right about ninety-nine percent of the time, and never let that one percent hold him back.
"If fate were real I'd be out preparing to win a lacrosse game tomorrow, not helping a werewolf get ready for a date with a kitsune. Trust me, the universe did not plan this one out," Stiles scoffs.
His words make me chuckle for more than one reason.
"You really think you could win tomorrow?" I joke and his grin widens.
"If I was practicing right now instead of having to listen to your existential crisis, yeah, I think I'd have a shot."
The two of us share in light laughter, both aware he was only teasing. It's also fair to say he isn't used to me being the one who panics about our existence. That's always been more his thing than mine.
Stiles continues to study me in silence, but eventually speaks.
"Is this about Liam?" he asks suddenly.
I avert my eyes from him, concentrating on the brick wall across from us instead. Stiles exhales softly at my reaction, probably knowing my default would be avoidance.
"Scott talked to me about it yesterday," Stiles informs me. "Plus, I figured something was going on with you two the day I caught you guys groping in Scott's living room."
My face quickly heats up and embarrassment overrides my senses. I bury myself into the cushions of Derek's couch in an effort to hide away, not wanting Stiles to see the way my face burned.
He laughs fondly at my actions, only making me sink further.
"It's nice," he says through his chuckles.
"What is?" I groan.
"The way you are with him," he says with a tender smile. "It's different. A good different."
I find it within myself to mirror his expression. Though, as the reality of my situation returns to the forefront of my mind, it fades.
"Do you think Scott's right? I mean, do you really think it'll end the same way?" I can't bring myself to say Allison's name, but I know Stiles understands.
"I don't know," he answers honestly.
"Just what I needed to hear," I murmur sarcastically.
Stiles gives me a pointed look, one similar to the one he gave to Scott earlier. It was his unspoken way of deeming us utterly ridiculous.
"Sorry," I added sheepishly.
He waves me off, giving me the benefit of the doubt. We sit in silence for a while after that, both of us unsure of what to say, but I can practically hear the gears of Stiles' brain turning. He turns to me eventually, waiting for me to look his way, too.
"Jac, there's no way to ever know what'll happen," he says gently. "Fate and even free will, neither of it tells us how it ends."
There's a moment of internal debate he seems to have after speaking as if he's deciding between saying nothing at all or something risky. I wait patiently, hoping he settles for the latter.
"And if you really wanna know my opinion, I think she'd want you to do whatever made you happy," he whispers.
Once again, neither of us needs to say Allison's name to understand who we speak of. It brings me a great sense of comfort to be able to have someone mention her and not have their guilt attached to it.
"Thanks, Stiles," I say genuinely.
I was still confused beyond belief, but I couldn't lie and say being able to confide in him didn't ease my struggles the tiniest bit.
"Anytime," he promises as he sinks into the couch with me. He and I stare off into space together, a comfortable silence falling over us as we wait for our Alpha to return.
---
Tonight was the first game of the season and it was clear everyone was thrilled.
Tons of people had signs with quotes of support painted on them to lift up our team's spirits as they faced Devenford Prep in a real match, not just a scrimmage. I hadn't even reached the field yet and I could already hear the excited chatter of a large crowd as I walked the path there from the parking lot. It was the same path Brett, Lori, and I had been stuck on as we faced assassins not too long ago.
It was nice to be here now without the threat of imminent death.
My pace slows as I catch sight of Coach by the buses parked adjacent to the field's fence. He's bent over as he examines something on the side of one of them, ignorant to the judging stares people cast his way as they pass him.
"Hey, Coach," I say as I approach him. "What are you doing?"
I stand at his side with my hands in the pockets of my motocross jacket, waiting for him to reply. He doesn't look my way as he points at something in front of him.
"Is that a bullet hole?" he asks.
I contain my reaction and lean over his shoulder, squinting at the hole in the metal that I'd caused with my revolver when I shot at the assassins.
"I wouldn't have any idea." I shrug, humming dismissively afterward. Coach turns to me, his expression still guarded as he crosses his arms.
"You gonna tell me where McCall and Yukimura are?"
"What?" I respond, utterly confused by his question.
I hadn't seen Scott or Kira since yesterday before their date and had assumed things went well when I didn't hear from either of them. I was actually planning on asking them how it went before the game started tonight.
Apparently, that wasn't in the cards.
"They missed practice this morning and didn't show up to class and now they're late for the match. Is he starting to ditch school again?" Coach presses, probably thinking I'm attempting to cover for their absence.
"I don't think he ever stopped," I reply honestly. Coach isn't amused so I know I have to say something else.
"I'm sure it's just traffic. They'll be here soon."
"They better be," Coach mutters before turning his back to me and stomping onto the field.
I follow his direction but don't automatically head to the bleachers, rather going for the player benches. I search through the sea of maroon jerseys until I spot Stiles typing aggressively on his phone, his tongue peeking out of the corner of his lip.
"Stiles," I call out as I walk up to him. He instantly plasters on a wide grin while hiding the phone in his hands behind his back.
"Jackie-lynn!" He pronounces my name oddly, clearly trying to divert attention from what we both know is happening.
"Where are they?" I ignore his attempts to distract me. His grin automatically drops.
"Who told you?" he asks defeatedly. I glance over my shoulder to find Coach and point at him as he flails animatedly at the field with his clipboard. He was clearly on the brink of insanity.
"That man tests me every day." Stiles shakes his head. I give him a warning look, drawing him back to the original question.
"I don't know, alright? They haven't been answering any of my calls or texts since last night." He rubs his face roughly out of frustration while I try not to let panic set in at his words.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
My tone is accusatory and I regret it after hearing Stiles' reason.
"Because I didn't want you to worry. I know you're dealing with some stuff right now." He darts his eyes off to the side for a second. I follow his line of sight and find Liam sitting by himself on one of the benches. His head hangs as he stares down at his lap. I can practically see anxiety coming off of him in waves.
"Plus, we just had our asses handed to us by a supernatural Dead Pool, I say we're in for some good luck. They probably fell asleep on Derek's couch. You know Kira, she can be a very heavy sleeper," he adds, scrambling for reasoning.
He reaches out after to place his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look at him and not a brooding Liam.
"Just have a little bit of faith. Everything's going to be fine," he reasons with me and I nod but he doesn't seem satisfied.
"Say it," he urges.
"Everything's going to be fine," I repeat reluctantly.
Stiles smacks my shoulder happily.
"See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" He begins to back away. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a game to win."
"Right," I mutter in disbelief as he walks off.
He goes over to the player benches and sits beside Liam. They exchange a few words, and when they're done, Liam glances around the area. Soon, his eyes land on me. I hold up my hand, not waving but rather simply acknowledging him. He doesn't return the gesture and the frown he wore only deepens as he turns away from me.
I regret my silence to him during these past few days, now seeing that it has done nothing but make our situation worse.
"You look like an abandoned puppy."
I turn to see Brett coming to stand beside me, his words mirroring the first conversation we ever had on this field. At least this time he's wearing a shirt.
"Very funny," I reply sarcastically at his reference. He smirks at my lack of reaction and follows my gaze to Liam.
"I'm guessing you didn't take my advice," he says tauntingly.
I don't respond, but my silence is enough of an answer.
Brett shakes his head and laughs at my expense.
"You really are a coward."
I swiftly face him, throwing a scowl his way. He holds up his hands innocently in return.
"Your words, not mine," he says defensively. My grimace falls as I know his point is valid. He's only quoting my own self-awareness from before.
Liam had been right in front of me that night at the motel, telling me he cared for me, too. Despite that, I did nothing about it, not truly. Now my lack of action was eating away at me, but I didn't have the right to be upset. That only made unnecessary aggravation bubble up inside of me because none of this was my choice to begin with.
"It's not because of me," I confess. "It's because of Scott."
"He asked me not to feel something for Liam. He's worried it won't end well." I trust Brett with that truth, and his lack of a snide comment helps me feel like I made the right decision.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" he inquires
I glance his way with a wry expression before looking back at the field, watching as players start to take their positions on it.
"Don't act like you have boundaries now," I murmur.
Brett laughs but it fades quickly as he finally says what he wants to.
"When you were dying, what were you thinking about?" His question doesn't affect me negatively. I want to believe Brett's intentions to be good now rather than malicious.
"I was thinking about the fact that I never told the people I loved how I really felt about them," I admit. I had felt so much regret and loneliness in that moment, and it wasn't something I had ever hoped to experience again.
Brett nods as I slowly face the truth.
I had been given more than enough chances to change, but even as I faced death, I still refused to take advantage of those opportunities. My hesitation to take the leap with Liam was holding me back from completely living, and that meant it would only be a matter of time before I defaulted into darker habits.
"We're all going to die someday, Jac. Whether or not you want to die with regret and fear being all you have left, that's up to you, not anyone else."
I turn to him, seeing that he has genuine care in his eyes directed toward me. It's surprising, but not entirely unwelcome.
"And maybe you were right, maybe people like us don't always get the happy endings, but that doesn't mean we can't try for them anyway," he adds bluntly. The way he says it so easily, it makes me feel as though I'm capable of accomplishing it. Perhaps it wouldn't be such a bad thing to not care what the people around me thought, as long as it meant caring for myself.
"You know, when you aren't hiding behind a thousand layers of snark and flirtation, you're a decent friend," I tell the werewolf beside me sincerely.
He chuckles in response, moving away from me to join the clump of his teammates taking the field.
"Stop flirting with me," he says with a wide smirk. "You're not my type."
I snort incredulously at his words, shaking my head.
"Definitely not what I was doing," I shoot back at him, smiling at his coy attitude.
"If you say so," he calls back before turning away from me fully.
I laugh to myself as I watch him and the other players prep for the match. I see Stiles go to the middle of the field, too. He stands across from the Devenford players, the ball between him and them. He bounces up and down a few times, mentally preparing himself for what's to come.
The referee soon blows his whistle, signaling the official start of the match, and it only takes a second for Stiles to be pummeled by green jerseys and get laid out flat.
"Seems about right," I mutter under my breath, turning away from the field, not wanting to watch our painful defeat much longer.
~
||| A/N |||
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