"You don't get it, Brooke. We need you. You're the remedy to all our problems."
How Brooke Moore's life went from totally normal to a complete shit show.
(teen werewolves, supernatural mysteries, and boy drama included)
*Season 1 & 2*
*Slow, slow bu...
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Brooke climbed off Derek's back, taking in the energy of the crowd as she heard the repeated "State! State! State!" echo in the parking lot. She adjusted her dress as her feet touched the ground, it being bunched up from the journey over on Derek's back. She was still too tired from healing Peter's face to run at all, let alone to keep up with two werewolves.
Brooke looked to Derek warily, wondering if they were doing the right thing. He reached up and squeezed her shoulder comfortingly. Peter watched the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow and a smirk.
The trio walked to the side of the school, waiting for the building to empty out so they could talk to Scott. Brooke bounced her left heel slightly, her entire body shaking as she played with her hands. Derek placed both hands on her shoulders, holding her at arm's length.
"Family first," he reminded her.
Brooke shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Family first," she repeated.
Peter broke the moment, ushering the cousins into the building. Brooke led the way to the locker room, her cousin and uncle flanking her shoulders like body guards. When they reached the room, Peter reached around Brooke and shut off the lights. She rolled her eyes at his dramatics.
Peter and Derek proceeded to walk into the showers, freaking Scott out in the process. Again, Brooke rolled her eyes and leaned against the row of lockers she was next to.
"Thank God! Where the hell have you been?" Scott questioned as soon as he saw Derek. "Do you have any idea what's been going on?"
Derek didn't answer. His eyes flickered to Peter, him stepping out from behind the wall behind Scott.
"I really don't get lacrosse," Peter said. Realization took over Scott's face. "When I was in high school we played basketball; now that's a real sport." Scott looked back and forth between Peter and Derek, shock evident on his face. "Still, I read somewhere that lacrosse comes from a Native American sport. They played it to resolve conflict."
"Stop being so dramatic, Peter," Brooke said, revealing herself. "Just tell Scott what you came here to tell him." If Scott was shocked before, Brooke wasn't sure what to call the emotion covering his face now.
"Brooke?" The young werewolf asked in disbelief. "What are you doing here? Where's Stiles?"
Brooke moved her gaze to her shoes at the name. "Just listen to what he has to say, Scott."
"You see, Scott. I have a conflict of my own to resolve," Peter kept speaking as if the two teenagers had never spoken. Brooke was tempted to roll her eyes again. "But I need your help to do it."
