Blurry » Sterek

Chapter 4

Stiles huffs dramatically, trailing sluggishly behind Scott. "Come on, man, soon you'll be so out of breath you'll forget all about Dere—" Stiles sends a sharp glare to his friend, who pulls a guilty face. "Right, sorry. I forgot we're not addressing him by name."

"Never bringing him up again would actually be much better," Stiles grumbles. "Stiles, he's in half of your classes. You can't just ignore his existence."

"Watch me," Stiles challenges and takes the lead to the locker room, since they're on their way to lacrosse tryouts. He throws the door open, only to stumble back and bump into Scott. "He's here," Stiles growls under his breath. "What?" Scott stands on the tip of his toes to look over the other males shoulder and rolls his eyes. "Come on! This guy is everywhere!"

"Shut. Up," Stiles whispers under his breath, the entire team now staring at them, including Derek. Stiles scratches the back of his head awkwardly. "Hey fellas," he waves sheepishly. Everyone turns back to their conversations and changing clothes, not minding the random outburst.

Scott is dragged the opposite side of the locker room that Derek is on, Stiles scowling. Partially at Scott, but mostly at the presence of Derek. Class, photos, lacrosse, his mind, he's everywhere.

Mid-way through dressing, Stiles freezes where he is to listen in on a conversation.

"It's Derek, right?" Jackson asks, leaning on the lockers beside him. Derek only gives him a brief glance, "And?" Though Jackson initially thought him and Derek would get along, his mind instantly changes at the snark in Derek's voice. Jackson scoffs, "And I'm team captain. You're new, so let me keep this simple, no ones better than me at lacrosse. This is my third year being team captain, just thought you should know." Derek smirks, "You're not team captain, and you're not going to be. You know, I wasn't going for the position, now I definitely am." Steam practically pours from Jackson's ears as he watches Derek flash a cocky smile and walk away.

"He's going to get himself killed," Stiles mutters in annoyance. "That's not your problem," Scott reminds him. "Yeah. Yeah," he waves off, not wanting another lecture. Stiles gets it, Derek is an asshole, but he wasn't before and a piece of him is still holding onto that.

The exercise warmups alone are enough to kill Stiles. He's laying on the grass panting while everyone else is lining up to take shots at the goal. Much to Stiles demise, though he's not very surprised, Derek scores with ease, acting as if it's nothing. Of course he's good at lacrosse. What isn't he good at? Jackson clenches his jaw, putting forth more effort as he charges forward and launches the ball...but he misses. Even coach stares in disbelief. Derek only lets out a breathy laugh.

***

"Dad! I'm home!" Stiles shouts, dropping his backpack and gym bag to the floor. "Dining room," he calls back. He kicks off his shoes and hurries there, hoping for food. "What's for d-d—erek," Stiles sputters, because there is Derek Hale, standing next to the sheriff with a friendly smile.