Stiles rolled his eyes to himself from behind the safety of his locker as he listened to Scott drone on and on about Allison. Honestly, he had no idea how he had kept it up this long, with minimal input from Stiles, for over two hours. Or how he expected Stiles to sit there and take much more.

"Can you believe she said yes?" Scott asked, the giddy optimism still set in his tone. "She's so pretty."

That was it. He couldn't take anymore. He slammed his locker shut a little harder than he intended, his frustration leaking through accidentally.

"Oh. My. God. Dude. Dude. Shut up," Stiles blurted out. "I get it. Okay? I do. But I cannot handle another second of this." He paused when he noticed Scott's expression change slightly. "I'm happy for you," Stiles insisted, lowering his voice. "I am. Allison Argent is the most perfect human on the entire planet, crafted by the angels, plucked out of the heavens, and placed in Beacon Hills for you. Awesome." Stiles paused again, placing a hand on Scott's shoulder. "But don't you think you've got some bigger problems than your date on Friday?"

Scott turned slightly and shut his own locker before facing Stiles again, a stupid smile still on his face.

"What problems?"

Stiles blinked rapidly in surprise and his mouth fell open before he shut it again with an audible snap.

"Wha... what problems? Umm, did you have a stroke since this morning?" he scoffed, lowering his voice and getting close enough for Scott to hear him without the possibility of someone eavesdropping. "Your bite? Being insanely strong. Your... abs or whatever? How exactly were you planning on handling all that during tryouts?"

Scott shrugged, causing Stiles' hand to slide off. "I'm going to try out. Just like last year."

"Except last year, you were a scrawny nerd with asthma," Stiles pointed out bluntly. "Now you're... I don't know, Clark Kent or something." He motioned to Scott's whole body. "Don't you think everyone's gonna notice when you, uh, run across the field in two seconds and accidentally put your fist through a tree?"

Scott smirked. "Wow, tryouts have changed if that's a requirement."

Stiles scrunched his nose and pursed his lips. Scott was too distracted to have this conversation for real, but it didn't mean it wasn't necessary. Completely goddamn necessary.

"Stiles, calm down. It's a regular tryout, okay? I'm gonna throw a few balls at the net, make first line, and it'll be done. Same plan as yesterday."

"Oh, sure," Stiles mumbled. "Only yesterday you didn't have superpowers."

Scott laughed lightly and shook his head as he clapped him on the back. "It'll be fine," he insisted. "Come on."

Stiles knew it was a lost cause. He grabbed his gear and stalked out of the locker room, not needing to even turn around to know Scott was still shaking his head at Stiles and his mostly sarcastic rant. Not that there was another kind with him.

But this was important. He had to get through to his best friend before Beacon Hills resembled something more like E.T., the government swarming every inch of this place to run experiments on him or something.

Stiles tried to steady himself, put on a more serious face, but his lopsided grin always made it seem like he was up to something. Not exactly his fault, but not at all what he was going for right now.

He adjusted the stick across his shoulders as Scott caught up with him.

"I'm just saying," Stiles started in again instantly, "I don't think this is going to be easy, man."

He waited for Scott to protest once more, which he didn't, but he did seem to be actively listening this time. Progress.

"You have no practice at all controlling whatever this is," Stiles pointed out. "Every monster, every superhero, every X-Man ever, has an adjustment period. You're just starting yours."

Scott stopped and turned to him, a very prominent frown etched on his face. "You think I'm a monster?"

"What? No. Not at all," Stiles said, motioning for him to keep walking. "I just don't want you to get all cocky before you figure out what's going on."

"Stiles, I get it, but you need to stop freaking out," Scott replied. "You said before that whatever happened to me can't be bad. Right? You can't have it both ways, dude." He perked his eyebrows at Stiles, daring him to say more before he continued. "Either it's horrible and terrible and I should go home and hide, or it's no big deal and I can live my life." He looked up at the stands next, wiggling his fingers in a wave. "With a few... added perks."

Stiles followed his eyeline until he saw Allison waving back at Scott. He sneered without meaning to, knowing it wasn't either of their fault.

"I'm gonna live my life, okay?"

Stiles huffed dramatically before he could stop himself. "But how do you know, Scott? How do you know everything's gonna be okay?"

"I told you what I wanted yesterday, Stiles," Scott explained, sighing heavily. "And if whatever happened to me is gonna help me get it, I'm gonna use it. I don't know how long it's gonna last. Just let me have this moment. Please."

Stiles looked into Scott's eyes and his resolve melted away. For the first time, he saw confidence reflected in his best friend's face, and he didn't have the heart to be the one to cast it out of him. It wasn't fair that this passionate person was doomed to want a life they were never going to have just because he'd been genetically screwed over.

"It's not like I can stop you," Stiles finally admitted, muttering to himself. "You could just throw me across this field."

"But I won't," Scott teased. "Because you're my friend."

"Gee, thanks, Scott." He looked out at the field they were slowly making their way across at the bench where everyone was lining up. "Let's just get this over with."

Stiles knew that he had no chance of changing his position on the field, but he was okay with that. He'd only ever joined in the first place because this is what Scott wanted to do. He knew he could've chosen literally anything else and it would've been less intense, but this had been the thing he was crazy about. And Stiles had followed him in without thinking.

But it was a two-way street with them, thankfully. Scott had followed him into the Preserve, after all.

As they sat down on the bench finally and began to tie their cleats, putting on shin guards and listening to the dull roar of all the side conversations going on around them, Stiles noticed Scott was trying to discreetly look up at the stands again.

He may have gotten more confident overnight, but despite Allison's words in the hallway earlier, he was not smooth.

And Lydia Martin had noticed.

"Well, now you're fucked," Stiles commented.

"What? Why?"

Stiles motioned with his head toward Lydia and Allison, who were whispering back and forth to each other behind their hands.

"Lydia seems a little skeptical of Allison's new crush, man."

"So?" Scott shrugged.

"Uh, so you're doomed. Lydia's the gatekeeper," he said. "The arbiter of taste in all Beacon Hills High relationships. If she says you're a no go, you're a no go."

With that, Stiles turned to face the field, his stick between his leg and a bored expression on his face. That's all he could muster now. School had been longer and Scott's new obsession with Allison was aging him quickly.

Scott tore his eyes away slowly from Allison and Lydia with a shrug. "Lydia doesn't have anything against me. And Allison's not gonna listen to her even if she did."

Stiles scoffed. "Right. I forgot. Allison is perfect and would never cave to peer pressure." He paused and looked at Scott again. "And no, Lydia has nothing against you. She's the sweetest person in the world. But Allison is way outta your league and she's new here. Like I already told you," he added. "Dating a lacrosse loser isn't going to be good for her social status."

"And I told you that I'm not gonna be a loser after these tryouts."

Coach Finstock took that precise moment to blow his whistle as hard as he could, causing everyone to wince and look toward him as he started to pace.

"All right, ya idiots!" he shouted. "That's right. I called you idiots. Because besides Jackson, none of you has an ounce of talent that is useful to me." He stopped at the end of the bench and started back again. Stiles had always seen him as the stereotypical coach from a bad after school special, and he never disappointed. "Unfortunately, I need a whole team of you idiots if we're gonna play in any games this year, so I'm forced to stand here and choose the best of the worst." He stopped and stared down at Stiles. "What happens here today is not a compliment. Got it?" Stiles nodded, even though he knew he wasn't talking to him directly. "Line up!"

At those words, everyone scrambled to get off the bench and made a line behind Derek Hale, who seemed to have materialized out of the mist surrounding the field. It was still strange to see him in a position of authority like that, when it had only been a few years ago that he had been on the field with them. Granted, that had been when Stiles and Scott had been freshmen, barely scraping by to get a spot on the team, and Derek had been an all-star senior with a million prospects.

But they were all right here again.

Currently, Derek was an assistant coach walking up and down the line checking everyone in while Stiles pretended to give two shits about this sport. A sport he never got to play.

"McCall!" Coach yelled. "Get in the goal!"

Scott sprinted toward the net without a word and Stiles' whole body tensed, not knowing what was going to happen next. And he watched as Derek's nostrils flared as Scott passed him and his head shot up. Stiles' eyebrows pulled in the middle as he tried to work out the small interaction.

"If you can't get it past McCall, you don't deserve to be on the field," Coach said quickly.

Stiles was forced to tear his eyes from Derek and toward Scott again, unable to help himself as Coach picked on him. But he didn't seem upset. If anything, he appeared calm and cool. Everything Scott McCall was usually not.

"Don't flake on me now, Hale!" Coach screamed next. Stiles turned to see him still staring at Scott. "Get everyone signed in."

Derek swallowed hard and nodded as he turned back to the line and continued with his job. But his brow was definitely furrowed, lost in his own thoughts. Not that it was all that different of an expression for Derek these days. He was always brooding about something.

Coach blew his whistle again and pointed to Jackson at the front of the line. "Okay, everyone throws one shot. Jackson, demonstrate, please."

Jackson didn't even try to hide his enthusiasm at the task, and Stiles couldn't help but groan out loud as he readied himself for what came next. Jackson wasn't a bad guy, necessarily, but he did seem to take some sick pleasure in picking on both Scott and Stiles when they were on the field.

He picked up the ball in the small net at the end of the stick and threw it as hard as he could toward Scott's face. People were already cheering as soon as the ball left, but it died instantly when Scott caught it with ease.

Stiles' face lit up as Scott dropped it from his own stick and a few people in the stands gasped. He covered up his laugh with a cough when several people closest to him turned. But keeping the smile off his face was next to impossible.

"Lucky get, McCall," Jackson sneered.

Scott shrugged in return. "Maybe. Wanna try again?"

Even though Stiles couldn't see him, he knew what Jackson's face looked like right now. He wasn't used to not getting his way, especially on this field. And Scott McCall, his easiest punching bag, had just thrown him a curveball.

"Again," Jackson hissed.

Scott threw the ball back to him and Jackson tried again. And Scott caught it again. With just as much poise as last time. Stiles noticed everyone was watching now. Even Derek didn't seem to care about checking people in anymore and was openly gawking at the pair, staring between them like he was watching a tennis match.

"Again!" Jackson yelled.

Then the back and forth began. Jackson threw the ball. Scott caught it. Again and again and again. And each time, the anger radiating off Jackson got worse. Then Scott started to laugh and Stiles shook his head.

He was officially asking for it now. Jackson had never been one to take his aggression off the field, but Stiles had a feeling that was all about to end when they came across him in the parking lot later. Because Jackson Whittemore did not lose in lacrosse. Ever.

"What the hell, McCall?" Jackson blurted out.

Scott shrugged again as Jackson made his way to the back of the line, everyone gawking as their eyes followed him. Stiles knew Jackson probably just wanted to disappear, but that was going to be impossible with what they'd all just witnessed.

Coach Finstock swallowed hard and turned to the rest of them. "All right, all right. Stop staring. So there's another person on the team who's halfway decent besides Jackson. Big deal. It's about damn time," he mumbled. "I still have to figure out who else is gonna stand there and pretend to play next to these two."

When no one moved, Coach threw up his hands. "Go! Go!"

A few people stumbled toward Scott to take their turn, and for the first time since they'd all joined the team, people looked genuinely nervous to go up against him.

One by one, each person tried to score against Scott, and each time he shut them down like it was nothing. Stiles was just thankful that Scott didn't go easy on him. He felt pathetic enough as it was standing next to Scott now. That would've made it so much worse.

When Jackson made it back to the front, Coach changed up the drills and Scott rejoined them. He didn't say a word to Stiles for the rest of tryouts, but Scott was vibrating with so much energy he could feel it no matter where he was standing.

Mercifully, tryouts finally did end and Stiles stood next to Scott on the bench where it had all started as the crowd around them buzzed with a renewed excitement Stiles hadn't seen around their field in a long time. Like Derek Hale long time. He wanted to be jealous, but it was Scott. And he deserved it.

"Yeah, you're definitely making first line," Stiles said wryly, breathing heavily.

"You think?" Scott asked, a smile on his face, but uncertainty in his voice. "I mean..."

"Of course I think," Stiles interrupted as he pulled off his helmet. "You were unstoppable. At least you didn't do anything too wild." He watched Scott carefully as his smile became a little less cautious and a lot more enthusiastic. "I'll try to figure out what's going on tonight, okay?"

Scott nodded, looking over his shoulder instinctively as Allison called his name. "Good job, Scott! I'll see you tomorrow."

He waved back at her and nodded, turning back to Stiles after a few more seconds of looking at her longingly like the idiot in love he was. "Wait... what were you saying?"

Stiles threw up his hands like Coach had done earlier, with the same level of exasperation and frustration too. "I was just trying to tell you I'm going to attempt to solve your giant problem, asshole. Not that you care," he quipped. "Perfect Allison loved what she saw."

He scoffed and picked up his bag and other equipment, throwing it over his shoulder as he started to walk away."If you wake up with two heads tomorrow, I don't wanna hear any whining, got it? None!"

Scott laughed heartily and jogged to catch up. "Thank you, Stiles. But I know I'll be fine either way as long as you're on my side."

"Finally," Stiles scoffed. "A little acknowledgment. Thank you."

Scott nodded and gave him a wink as they continued to walk, most people not paying them any attention again as they all headed for the locker rooms.

"Look, dude," Stiles continued, unprompted. "I really want you to be okay. All right? That's all this is. I'm not trying to rain on your parade, I swear. It's just... you went into the woods and I feel, like, responsible. Whatever happened, good or bad, is my fault."

Scott was shaking his head vehemently before Stiles could even get the words out of his mouth. "No. No way. And I don't think it's that dire, Stiles. Honestly, I know I was angry last night, but it was just because I was frustrated and a little scared. But I wanted to go with you. You know that."

"Yeah?"

"Always," Scott promised.

"Okay," Stiles sighed in relief. "Okay."

Stiles put an arm around Scott's shoulders and laid his head there, making him chuckle again as he nuzzled his face into the crook of Scott's neck. He could feel someone's eyes on them as they left, but right now Stiles was determined not to let his paranoia get to him. Scott said he was fine, and he was going to go with that until he found out some information that said otherwise.

Sometimes good stuff happened too. Not usually to them, but they were definitely due for some good.