The weeks flew by and things weren’t looking too bad for the Beacon Hills Cyclones. However, Stiles had yet to even step foot onto the field during a game. He had improved. A lot. Malia was proud to admit that, but unfortunately, he hadn’t improved enough. The Coach would shoot him apologetic glances when he thought no one was looking, but Malia noticed. She had a feeling the Coach sort of saw a little of himself in Stiles and Scott. That’s why he was so nice to them. Well… nicer than he was to anyone else, anyway.
Stiles had spent the six games of the season riding the bench while almost everyone else had gotten some playing time. What was worst was Malia was forced to sit up in the stands with the Sheriff and Mrs McCall as Stiles sat by himself. His frustration was evident, even from this far away. A part of her wished she could just sit down there with him. She had tried during the first game, but the Coach had threatened to kick Stiles off the team if she didn’t leave. It was a really stupid rule that non-team members weren’t allowed on the bench. She had said so. Loudly. Though it might have come out more like “Well, who’s dumb idea was that?” - which didn’t help at all.
“Maybe he’ll get to play today,” Melissa said optimistically, looking at both Malia and the Sheriff. They could only stare back at her doubtfully.
Stiles had spent the six games of the season riding the bench while almost everyone else had gotten some playing time. What was worst was Malia was forced to sit up in the stands with the Sheriff and Mrs McCall as Stiles sat by himself. His frustration was evident, even from this far away. A part of her wished she could just sit down there with him. She had tried during the first game, but the Coach had threatened to kick Stiles off the team if she didn’t leave. It was a really stupid rule that non-team members weren’t allowed on the bench. She had said so. Loudly. Though it might have come out more like “Well, who’s dumb idea was that?” - which didn’t help at all.
“Maybe he’ll get to play today,” Melissa said optimistically, looking at both Malia and the Sheriff. They could only stare back at her doubtfully.
While Stiles had showed improvement with each passing week, it was still evident that he was the weakest player on the team. It was kind of sad, actually, and Malia felt bad for her friend. He worked so hard and yet it never seemed to be good enough. She definitely knew what that felt like. However, just as Stiles constantly told her that she was doing well, that she was making progress, that’s all Malia could do for him in return. There wasn’t some supernatural thing she could do to make him run just a little bit faster, or throw with just a little more accuracy. Or even…. Throw the ball at all without it hitting someone in the face. She would have gladly traded her physical prowess to him if she could. She just hated seeing how much more dejected Stiles looked with each passing week.
There was a loud cheer from the opposition as they scored again, and a responding chorus of groans sounded from the Beacon Hills crowd, Malia, Melissa and the Sheriff included. The team wasn’t playing very well at all. While Scott was out on the field, he had barely managed to catch the ball whenever it headed his way. Only Kira and Jackson could really hold their own. Oh, and Danny. He was a really good player too. But three good players didn’t make up a team. Sometimes against the weaker sides, the trio would manage to outshine the opposition, but tonight the other team was just too good.
The Beacon Hills section sat in disappointed silence, occasionally bemoaning and groaning at how bad everything was turning.
There was a loud cheer from the opposition as they scored again, and a responding chorus of groans sounded from the Beacon Hills crowd, Malia, Melissa and the Sheriff included. The team wasn’t playing very well at all. While Scott was out on the field, he had barely managed to catch the ball whenever it headed his way. Only Kira and Jackson could really hold their own. Oh, and Danny. He was a really good player too. But three good players didn’t make up a team. Sometimes against the weaker sides, the trio would manage to outshine the opposition, but tonight the other team was just too good.
The Beacon Hills section sat in disappointed silence, occasionally bemoaning and groaning at how bad everything was turning.
And just when Malia thought the game couldn’t get any worse… it did.
Suddenly a loud crack ripped through the air, followed by a deafening pained cry. The entire field collectively gasped as the one of the players was slammed into the ground, his leg bending at a really weird angle.
“Oh no!” Melissa gasped, covering her mouth in her hands. In a flash, the nurse was heading down the stairs and out onto the field to help. Seconds later, a familiar head of ‘strawberry blonde’ hair was running out after her. Jackson Whitmore was down and out for the rest of the game. And, judging by his roar of pain, perhaps even for the rest of the season. It was a horrifying few minutes as Jackson was carried off the field, pain clearly visible on his face.
Through all the commotion, it took a moment for Malia to realise Stiles was heading out onto the field. He was getting a chance to play! Probably the only good thing to come of this this game. Everything else spelled the doom for the Beacon Hills lacrosse team for the rest of the season.
-
“I take it back, I don’t want to play lacrosse anymore,” Stiles groaned from his position lying on his bed. “This must be what dying feels like.”
Malia cringed, hating to see her friend in pain. The previous night’s lacrosse game had gone from bad to worse after Jackson had been slammed to the ground. The perpetrator had then tried to pull the exact same stunt with every other player on the beacon hills team, including Kira. It made Malia so angry to watch from the stands that Sheriff Stilinski had to physically hold her back a few times to prevent her from running out onto the field to charge the douche bag down.
Suddenly a loud crack ripped through the air, followed by a deafening pained cry. The entire field collectively gasped as the one of the players was slammed into the ground, his leg bending at a really weird angle.
“Oh no!” Melissa gasped, covering her mouth in her hands. In a flash, the nurse was heading down the stairs and out onto the field to help. Seconds later, a familiar head of ‘strawberry blonde’ hair was running out after her. Jackson Whitmore was down and out for the rest of the game. And, judging by his roar of pain, perhaps even for the rest of the season. It was a horrifying few minutes as Jackson was carried off the field, pain clearly visible on his face.
Through all the commotion, it took a moment for Malia to realise Stiles was heading out onto the field. He was getting a chance to play! Probably the only good thing to come of this this game. Everything else spelled the doom for the Beacon Hills lacrosse team for the rest of the season.
-
“I take it back, I don’t want to play lacrosse anymore,” Stiles groaned from his position lying on his bed. “This must be what dying feels like.”
Malia cringed, hating to see her friend in pain. The previous night’s lacrosse game had gone from bad to worse after Jackson had been slammed to the ground. The perpetrator had then tried to pull the exact same stunt with every other player on the beacon hills team, including Kira. It made Malia so angry to watch from the stands that Sheriff Stilinski had to physically hold her back a few times to prevent her from running out onto the field to charge the douche bag down.
It had been absolute torture to watch, and by the end, everyone had been more than eager for it to end.
Early the next morning, Malia had appeared through Stiles window, just as she had since they were little, wanting to offer her help. Now, she stood watching her friend, in pain and barely moving.
“Be right back,” she called before disappearing. Dutifully, she returned with a nice cold ice pack for Stiles hold. The only problem was… According to him, the pain was all over. One measly ice pack was not going to do the trick.
“I brought this ‘ice’ cream thingy from when I sprained my wrist that one time,” Malia tried to offer next, digging the tube out of her pocket.
“Ice cream?” Stiles perked up, undoubtedly hoping for the dessert rather than a tube of ointment.
“No, not ice cream, silly. An 'ice’ cream. It’s like a gel thing that you rub into your skin and it kinda soothes the pain. Do you wanna give it a try?”
Another groan escaped Stiles’ lips but he made no indication of moving. Malia took that as a yes.
“Okay, where does it hurt the most?” she asked.
“Everywhere…” he groaned his reply almost instantly.
“That’s not helping, you know.”
She squeezed out a generous portion onto her hand, but then paused, studying the fully clothed Stiles in front of her. When she had tripped and sprained her wrist months back, applying the cream had been simple. Right now, she had a feeling it was going to be less so.
“So, um, you’re going to need to remove your shirt,” she instructed hesitantly.
“What?! Why?” Stiles’ head popped up in mild alarm, resulting in another low groan at the awkward angle his body stretched.
“How else do you expect me to help?” she asked pointedly, lifting her brow at him.
They stared at each other for a moment, a slight tension in the air. Honestly, it was nothing that Malia hadn’t seen before. They had gone swimming together plenty of times over the years. It was just that… during all those trips together, she had never had to rub anything on him.
“Be right back,” she called before disappearing. Dutifully, she returned with a nice cold ice pack for Stiles hold. The only problem was… According to him, the pain was all over. One measly ice pack was not going to do the trick.
“I brought this ‘ice’ cream thingy from when I sprained my wrist that one time,” Malia tried to offer next, digging the tube out of her pocket.
“Ice cream?” Stiles perked up, undoubtedly hoping for the dessert rather than a tube of ointment.
“No, not ice cream, silly. An 'ice’ cream. It’s like a gel thing that you rub into your skin and it kinda soothes the pain. Do you wanna give it a try?”
Another groan escaped Stiles’ lips but he made no indication of moving. Malia took that as a yes.
“Okay, where does it hurt the most?” she asked.
“Everywhere…” he groaned his reply almost instantly.
“That’s not helping, you know.”
She squeezed out a generous portion onto her hand, but then paused, studying the fully clothed Stiles in front of her. When she had tripped and sprained her wrist months back, applying the cream had been simple. Right now, she had a feeling it was going to be less so.
“So, um, you’re going to need to remove your shirt,” she instructed hesitantly.
“What?! Why?” Stiles’ head popped up in mild alarm, resulting in another low groan at the awkward angle his body stretched.
“How else do you expect me to help?” she asked pointedly, lifting her brow at him.
They stared at each other for a moment, a slight tension in the air. Honestly, it was nothing that Malia hadn’t seen before. They had gone swimming together plenty of times over the years. It was just that… during all those trips together, she had never had to rub anything on him.
She could see the shock and hesitation written all over Stiles’ face and it only made her feel more uncomfortable, earning a huff in annoyance.
“Stiles…?”
“Er, yeah, sure…” He eventually managed to get out and with some (a lot) of moaning and groaning, Stiles somehow managed to roll over onto his stomach and tug off his shirt.
Sitting beside him on the bed, feet dangling off the edge, Malia got to work. There was a loud hiss as the cold contrasted against Stiles’ skin, shocking his system.
Malia tried not to focus on Stiles, himself, and just pretended she rubbing ointment on someone other than her closest friend. The logic failed though. There weren’t many people she would actually be willing to do this for to begin with…
“You know, it’s actually starting to work…” Stiles announced in pleasant surprise, his voice relaxing while his body melted into the bed. “In fact, it feels really good. You have magic hands, Malia.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but a loud cough from the entrance of Stiles’ room interrupted.
There stood the Sheriff in obvious shock, unable to comprehend the scene in front of him. He gaped at them, and Stiles and Malia gaped right back, her hand frozen in place, mid-rub.
“Stiles…?”
“Er, yeah, sure…” He eventually managed to get out and with some (a lot) of moaning and groaning, Stiles somehow managed to roll over onto his stomach and tug off his shirt.
Sitting beside him on the bed, feet dangling off the edge, Malia got to work. There was a loud hiss as the cold contrasted against Stiles’ skin, shocking his system.
Malia tried not to focus on Stiles, himself, and just pretended she rubbing ointment on someone other than her closest friend. The logic failed though. There weren’t many people she would actually be willing to do this for to begin with…
“You know, it’s actually starting to work…” Stiles announced in pleasant surprise, his voice relaxing while his body melted into the bed. “In fact, it feels really good. You have magic hands, Malia.”
She opened her mouth to reply, but a loud cough from the entrance of Stiles’ room interrupted.
There stood the Sheriff in obvious shock, unable to comprehend the scene in front of him. He gaped at them, and Stiles and Malia gaped right back, her hand frozen in place, mid-rub.
“I don’t wanna know,” the Sheriff announced after a few tension filled moments – which felt like they’d gone on forever – and before either of them could respond he had turned and disappeared out of sight.
-
The prospects of the Beacon Hills Cyclones hadn’t improved over the following few weeks. Jackson’s leg had been shattered in three places, and the boy was evidently frustrated to be delegated to the sidelines while ‘his’ team got slaughtered week after week. The frustration had also begun bleeding out into everything else, and it wasn’t uncommon to see him pick a fight in the school halls. Or… at least try to. It was hard to seem threatening when hobbling around on one leg, which was really the problem to begin with.
A loud bang echoed through the hallways and Malia couldn’t help but cringe. Neither could Stiles. They both turned their heads towards the source of the commotion, and even from a distance, the swish of ‘strawberry blonde’ hair could be seen running down the halls while Jackson slumped against the row of lockers, his head hanging low while crutches littered the floor.
Within seconds, Stiles was jogging down the halls after Lydia, leaving Malia staring at the scene in mild confusion. She’d never get used to this feeling, she thought, not understanding relationships one bit. Of course, she chalked the uncomfortable tightness in her chest towards the fighting, and not to the retreating back of her friend. Why would it be anything else?
-
Word of the Jackson/Lydia breakup spread around school like wildfire, and by lunch time, it was all anyone was talking about.
Malia sighed as she sat in her usual seat observing the room. It was so stupid. She didn’t get how anyone could possibly be so interested about a relationship that wasn’t their own.
“Where’s Stiles?” Kira asked as she set down her tray next to Malia, as always.
Malia shrugged her shoulders, opening her mouth to say she didn’t know. However, Scott was the one to answer. Malia frowned in confusion as his eyes darted towards her before answering, like he was wary of how she’d take it or something.
“He texted me earlier,” Scott explained hesitantly, which only made Malia squint at him more shrewdly. “He drove Lydia home, and I guess he decided to stay.”
Malia nodded, connecting the dots quite easily. “Guess that explains it, then,” she replied with a shrug. Automatically, her gaze turned to look out the cafeteria window, searching the carpark for Stiles’ familiar jeep, and just as Scott said, the jeep was nowhere to be found.
“I hope she’s okay,” Kira said softly, feeling bad for Lydia.
“I’m sure she is,” Scott reassured her.
It wasn’t until a few minutes later that Malia chimed in. “Yeah, Stiles will take care of her. I mean, it’s practically his dream, right?” She scoffed with a slight chuckle, shaking her head before her gaze returned to survey the outside. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly what she was looking for, but Malia found she couldn’t tear her gaze away.
-
Another groan rang throughout the field as the opposition scored yet another goal. This was the last game of the season. The last chance for a win, and things were not going well at all. Especially for Stiles. He had dropped the ball at least five times that evening. One time, he even tripped over his own feet when he had a clear shot at goal. It was bad – really bad.
The frustrating part was Malia knew he could do better than this. Stiles had improved heaps during training, and when he and Scott worked as a team, Malia knew they could be unstoppable. But right now, Stiles was letting his nerves get the better of him. Just like he did every game.
The half time buzzer sounded and Malia could practically hear the collective sigh of relief from the Beacon Hills audience. At least they’d get a few minutes rest from another annihilation.
“I’ll be right back,” Malia growled to the Sheriff and Melissa, storming down the stairs before either of them had a chance to react. When she got to the bench, Malia let all her frustrations out by hitting Stiles on the upside of his head.
“Ow, Malia!” he yelled in surprise, jumping up from his seat and turning to face her. “What was that for?”
“You know damn right what that was for, Stiles!” she shouted back. “What is wrong with you tonight?”
A panicked expression washed over Stiles face, eyes darting around for Kira or Scott to help him, but neither was around. “Nothing, okay? Nothing is wrong with me.”
“Oh yeah?” Malia challenged. “They why are you sucking so bad?” Stiles opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off before he had a chance, grabbing him by the jersey to pull his face in close to hers. “You can do this, Stiles. I’ve seen you play loads better than this in the past few weeks, and yet whenever you step foot out onto the field, you suck!”
Stiles’ brow furrowed as he muttered under his breath, “I don’t suck,” but Malia kept barrelling on.
“I didn’t spend the entire year training with you every morning , watching you run up and down this field almost constantly, so that you could lose confidence every time you actually play a game.” Her expression softened as she spoke, slowly coming to the point of this diatribe. “I believe in you, Stiles. Now how about you go out there and try believing in yourself a little, okay?”
Stiles stared at Malia for a long moment, and despite her yelling, slowly a smile crept across his face and he nodded. “Okay. I guess I should listen then, huh? I mean, I do owe you everything.”
She laughed. “Damn straight. Now go out there and win, okay?” Malia smiled triumphantly before spinning on her heel and heading back towards the stands. “Otherwise I’m gonna kick your butt!” She called over her shoulder in a sing-song voice.
-
Stiles’ transformation had such a profound effect on the game that it not only stunned Malia, but the audience as well/ However, none more so than Stiles’ dad. It was extremely moving to see the Sheriff jump up in excitement every time Stiles managed to catch the ball, or pass it successfully to another player. Scott, Stiles and Kira worked seamlessly together, and for the first time since Jackson’s accident, they actually had a chance of winning. The scores were level and the excitement high.
Malia cheered along with the rest of the crowd, hopping from foot to foot as the time counted down. With barely any time left on the clock, the ball landed in Stiles’ pocket and Malia watched on as he froze in place, the opposition charging towards him. As if in slow motion, Stiles turned searching for someone – anyone – to pass the ball to, but everyone else was occupied.
Voices rang out through the night air, calling for Stiles to run, and after a moment’s hesitation he did, dodging around players like a pro; like Malia knew he could.
A roar of sound erupted from the stands as the ball hit the net, and Malia’s was one of the loudest. She beamed proudly down at her friend as the final buzzer sounded and the team rushed him in celebration.
Her heart stopped, holding her breath, as Stiles’ head turned towards the crowd, searching the many, many faces. And then, the world still moving in slow motion, Malia saw Stiles pause and send a large, triumphant grin to the stands, pumping a fist into the air. Her head turned, following Stiles’ line of sight until her eyes landed on Lydia, the ‘strawberry blonde’ cheering as loudly as anyone.
It wasn’t a surprise, really. Stiles always looked for Lydia. It was part of his basic instinct. Malia was used to this. And ordinarily she didn’t mind at all. However, this time….a niggling feeling settled deep in her chest, because this time, Lydia was smiling back.
- N x
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