Author's Note:
I'm so sorry that this took me six hundred years to write, but this was requested by amyxlouise1, who I'm having trouble tagging. I have one more request after this one, and two ideas of my own to get to, so I'm closing requests for a while.
QOTD: Favorite Teen Wolf moment?
"Brett! Brett! Brett! Brett!" You chanted with the rest of the student section, watching your twin brother run onto the field.
The game was at Beacon Hills, but it was such an important game for Devenford that nearly the entire student body had shown up.
You cheered as the game finally began, Devenford taking the lead almost immediately. The coach for the opposing team seemed to be getting a little angry, and eventually pushed an awkward, bumbling boy onto the field.
You watched as the boy took his spot on the field, but quickly turned your attention back to your brother, who had the lacrosse ball.
He passed it around a couple of times, before number 11 on the other team managed to intervene. He caught Brett's pass, and threw it to the awkward boy, number 24. The awkward boy tried to pass it right back to him, but it flew past 11 and hit you right on the forehead.
A chorus of gasps travelled through the crowd as the horrifying cracking sound of your head echoed throughout the bleachers.
"I am so sorry," 24 said, running up to you, closely followed by Brett.
You held your hand to your throbbing forehead, and sat down slowly on the bleachers.
"You okay?" Brett asked.
"I'm okay."
"How many fingers am I holding up?" 24 asked.
"Why do you have eight fingers on one hand?"
"I think you need to go to the hospital," 24 sighed.
"No, I'm fine."
"[Y/N]," Brett said. "I'm going to take you the hospital, and then I'm going to come back here and string him up by the toes on the roof. No objections."
"Uh, I have a little bit of an objection to that second part," 24 said.
"Brett, you gotta get back in the game," Devenford's coach appeared behind your brother.
"I can't. I have to take her to the hospital."
"Talbot," Coach said. "This is Beacon Hills we're playing."
"Well, why doesn't Brett finish the game and I take her to the hospital?" 24 asked. "And avoid the whole toe-roof situation."
"Fine," Brett said reluctantly. "But the toe thing is still on the table."
Brett returned the the game, and 24 held your elbow as you stood up.
"I'm Stiles, by the way."
"I'm [Y/N]."
24, or Stiles, rather, helped you into his conspicuous blue Jeep, and drove you straight to the hospital.
"Like I said earlier," he said. "I'm really sorry."
"That's okay. It was totally my fault for standing in the exact spot on the bleachers where you decided to hurl your lacrosse ball."
"So, are you familiar with the term sarcasm?"
"Very."
Stiles pulled up into the hospital, and surprised you by actually walking with you inside, and asking for Melissa McCall.
"You're a frequent customer here?" You asked.
"You have no idea."
When Melissa McCall came into the waiting room, she instructed Stiles to remain there, claiming that he would be distracting, which wasn't that hard to imagine. She cleared you fairly soon, saying that since the double vision lasted only seconds, it was going to be alright. You didn't even have a concussion.
"I'm 100% okay, as I predicted," you told Stiles when you came back.
"Great, let's get back to the game."
"They made me call a parent. They're already on their way."
"Oh," he said, slightly disappointed. "Well I guess I'll see you around."
He turned away and started walking out the door. You plopped down in the chair he had been sitting in and waited. You knew it would take a while for your parents to come get you, since you lived so far away from the hospital.
"Hey," Stiles said suddenly, about ten minutes later.
You jumped, not even noticing that he came back. "24," you said. "Forget something?"
"24?" He smirked.
"Well, it's blazoned across your chest."
He stuffed his hands in his shorts pockets and looked around the empty waiting area.
"Forget something?" You repeated.
"Uh, yeah. Sort of. I mean, I was on my way back to the school and I just kind of realized that I told you that I would see you around, but we don't go to the same school, and I don't really know anything about you, and I figured I would probably never see you again unless I came back and asked for your number- which you totally don't have to give me if you don't want to. But I figured, you know, I'm rambling, so I'll shut up now."
"Sure, 24, you can have my number."
"Seriously? You're going for that?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did you want me to say no?"
"Nope. Definitely didn't want that," he handed you his phone, and you put in his number.
"Call me," you said. He looked away and gave a shy smile.
"Will do," he said, and left. Again.
