Beacon ⌲ Stiles Stilinski [1] EDITING

twenty four

*tw: this chapter has a short reference to self-harm due to Lydia's sleep-punching mirror situation in 2x04*

Seated on the ice cold bleachers on the outskirts of Beacon Hills' lacrosse field, I was grateful for the freezing weather that provided an excuse for my leg to be bouncing up and down non stop. I was beyond nervous for our investigation, even when my only job was to pass Gerard's keys off to Stiles and check my phone periodically.

My grandfather was two seats down from me, on the other side of my sister, deeming my seat closest to the edge and in the correct position to slip my hand through the side railings of the bleachers and reach people walking alongside it.

On the home team's bench, Stiles was waiting to receive my text message notifying him that I was ready for the exchange. Normally I didn't think cell phones were allowed on the bench but, considering that Stiles stayed zipped up in his tracksuit all game, Coach didn't seem to mind or care. He was too busy whining about a strongly built player on the opposing team with the ability to knock out any of our players with a single shove.

We knew where the keys were - in the pocket of Gerard's coat - it was just a matter of getting them from him. I had been fiddling with anxiety ever since we watched him lock his office with the full ring that would give us a way back inside later tonight.

Allison sent me a side glance before shivering violently and sighing. "I knew I should've brought a warmer jacket."

I shielded my face with my hair so not to give away that I knew what she was doing.

"You're cold!" Gerard exclaimed. "Here, take my coat."

"Are you sure?" Allison chirped, acting innocent.

"Sure, sure."

I sat silently while the two of them stood up and Gerard draped his thick black overcoat onto Allison's shoulders.

"Better?" he asked, and his unnatural sense of sweetness made my stomach knot together.

Allison grinned back. "Better, thanks."

I felt her arms move slowly beside me and explore the large jacket pockets. She was cool under pressure and, once finding the keys tucked inside the right hand pocket, my sister pulled the important ring out slowly and carefully. We moved to hold hands and she passed them into my possession. 

Desperately trying to avoid them jingling and giving us away, I held them tightly in my leather glove covered palm. Using my other hand, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Stiles to tell him I had the keys.

Suddenly, the large player from the other team jammed into a Beacon Hills player and the whole stand of spectators gasped in shock. The commotion nearly made me drop the key ring I had been so focused on before, but I was able to get myself together in time to use the distraction as a cover for me to effortlessly place the object into Stiles' hand as he walked alongside the bleachers and towards the parking lot.

I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep them from fidgeting too much; keeping one hand on my cell phone and waiting for it to vibrate with a new message from Stiles at any moment. I watched as player after player from Beacon Hills were knocked down to the point where a stretcher had been brought out and even with all of our able-bodied players on the field - some actually only half-able and staggering - our team was short one.

"Where's Stilinski?" I heard Coach ask. He turned around frantically and yelled louder as he repeated himself. "Where's Stilinski?!"

Obviously coming up short in his search for Stiles, who I hoped had successfully broken into Gerard's office by now, Coach's gaze settled on someone in the back row.