Aspen Juniper Veata has only ever known Beacon Hills to be a quiet and dainty town. Herself, along with her best friends Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski, had gone unnoticed by their peers in high school for as long as they could remember. Aspen ha...
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"You want me to do what?"
Though Aspen didn't agree with the idea of using Danny for their little plan, she obliged and called to come over and study for chemistry. It was a long shot, Danny knowing that Aspen would usually study with Isaac. When he arrived, instead of easing into the real reason Danny was here, Stiles let the word pile out of his mouth.
"Trace a text," Stiles repeated almost desperately. Danny gripped his bag strapped and looked over to Aspen. Her legs were crossed on Stiles' bed as she mouth a 'sorry' for lying to him.
"I came here to do lab work. That's what lab partners do." Danny explained, seeing as it wasn't getting to Stiles' thick head.
"And we will, once you trace the text." Stiles groans, running his hand over his buzzcut hair. Aspen's leg was shaking, afraid Danny would just leave if Stiles continued insisting.
Danny crossed his arms over his chest, the boy testing his patience. For the lacrosse goalie to grow upset was something new for Aspen. He was always relaxed and collected, a good friend for Jackson to have around. "And what makes you think I know how?"
Stiles paused for a moment, slipping his gaze toward Aspen, who also wore a questionable look on her face. "I--I looked up your arrest report, so..."
Danny scoffed, embarrassed to have it mentioned so openly. "I-I was thirteen. They dropped the charges."
Stiles shrugged, "Whatever."
"No, we're doing lab work," Danny's words were final, and he pulled up a chair next to Stiles, who was muttering under his breath.
Aspen blew out a long sigh and flopped back on the bed, turning her head to Derek, sitting on a chair just next to her. He held an open book in his hands, trying to appear casual. From his stone-cold face, he was failing miserably. Hearing the sound of Stiles' fingers smacking against the keyboard, Aspen lifted her head to see Danny looking over his shoulder, staring at Derek.
"Who's he again?" he asked Aspen.
"Um, Stiles' cousin--" Aspen blurt out.
"Miguel." Stiles butt in, his eyes meeting Aspen for a split second before looking back to Danny, who was still observing Derek.
"Is that...blood on his shirt?"
Aspen anxiously played with the tips of her hair, her lips set in a straight line, leaving it to Stiles to come up with the explanations. "Yeah. Yes, well, he gets these horrible nosebleeds." Stiles explains, casually sitting back in his desk chair before tilting his head toward Derek. The werewolf's blood was boiling. "Hey, Miquel. I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts." Stiles's eyes darted to his dresser, demanding that Derek just went along with the motions.
