Stiles and Hazel were driving in the Jeep, cruising down the quiet road in search of Scott, who hadn't come home the night before.
Stiles suddenly spotted a familiar figure walking ahead. "There he is," he said, relief evident in his tone.
He pulled the Jeep over, and Scott climbed into the passenger seat without a word. Stiles resumed driving, but the atmosphere in the car was heavy. Silence enveloped the trioâStiles at the wheel, Scott in the passenger seat, and Hazel in the back.
Scott was the first to break the silence. "You know what actually worries me the most?"
Hazel, already rolling her eyes, interjected from the backseat. "If you say 'Allison,' I'm going to punch you in the face."
Scott ignored her tone and sighed. "She probably hates me now."
"Ugh, I doubt that." Stiles muttered.
"Damn straight." Hazel added, earning a glare from her brother.
"But," Stiles chimed in, "you might want to come up with a pretty amazing apology."
"Or," Hazel suggested, leaning forward, "you could just tell her the truth and let her revel in the awesomeness of the fact that you're a freaking werewolf."
Scott shot her a deadpan glare. "Okay, bad idea." Hazel mumbled, sinking back into her seat.
It was clear Scott wasn't okay. His tension filled the air. Stiles tried to lighten the mood. "Hey, we'll get through this." he said earnestly. "If I have to, I'll chain you up myself on full moons and feed you live mice. I had a boa constrictor once. I could manage."
Scott and Hazel exchanged incredulous looks before chuckling softly. The humor, though fleeting, eased the tension.
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Later that day, after school, Hazel joined Stiles for a walk in the woods. They moved at a relaxed pace, the crunch of leaves beneath their feet filling the silence.
"If something's seriously wrong with Scott, we need to talk to Derek. Maybe he can help," Stiles suggested.
Hazel hesitated. "But didn't you say Derek's the one who bit him? What if he's planning to do something worse?"
Stiles frowned. "I don't know, but he did drive you and Allison home last night. And nothing happened to either of you."
They walked in silence for a moment until Hazel froze, hearing a faint voice echo through the trees.
"Hazel."
Her eyes darted around, but Stiles kept walking, oblivious.
"Hazel." The voice whispered again, sending chills down her spine.
"Stiles?" She called, jogging to catch up with him. Her unease was palpable.
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After her last class, Hazel strolled down the school hallway, heading for her locker. She opened it and began placing her books inside when the eerie voice returned.
"Hazel."
She spun around, her heart racing, and saw a man standing at the far end of the hallway. His sudden disappearance made her gasp and stumble backward, falling to the ground. When she looked up, the man was gone.
Shaken, she stood and shut her locker. Just as she turned to investigate, Stiles burst out of the boys' locker room holding a fire extinguisher, his back against the wall.
"Stiles?" Hazel approached cautiously. "What's going on? Is Scott in there?"
"Yeah," Stiles panted, "and he's going full-on werewolf crazy."
They peeked into the locker room to find Scott sitting on a bench, looking utterly exhausted.
"You tried to kill me!" Stiles exclaimed, dropping the extinguisher with a dramatic sigh. "It's like I told you beforeâit's the anger, the rising pulse. It's a trigger."
Scott groaned. "But it's lacrosse! It's a violent game, if you haven't noticed."
"Yeah, well, it'll get a whole lot more violent if you kill someone on the field," Hazel added. "You can't play on Saturday. You need to sit this one out."
Scott looked up, frustration etched on his face. "I'm first line."
"Not anymore." Hazel said, her voice firm.
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That night, Hazel lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling inexplicably drained. A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts.
"Hazel?" Her mom peeked inside. "Are you okay? I just checked on Scottâhe seems stressed, too."
"I'm fine, just tired." Hazel replied with a weak smile.
Her mom smirked, brushing a strand of hair out of Hazel's face. "Okay then. Goodnight." She left, shutting the door softly behind her.
Hazel's eyes widened as she suddenly remembered something. "Oh crap." She muttered, getting out of bed and heading to Scott's room. She found him sitting at his desk, staring blankly at his computer.
She sat down beside him as the screen lit up with a video call from Stiles. Hazel answered it, only to see Stiles aiming a fake pistol at the camera.
"Wow, you really scared me," Hazel deadpanned, resting her head on her folded arms.
"What did you find out?" Scott asked, leaning closer to the screen.
"It's bad," Stiles said grimly. "Jackson's got a separated shoulder."
Scott's eyes widened. "Because of me?"
"No, because he's a tool." Stiles replied dryly.
Hazel raised an eyebrow. "Is he going to play?"
"They're not sure yet," Stiles explained. "But now the team's counting on you for Saturday."
Scott groaned in frustration as Stiles typed something into the chat. Hazel squinted at the screen, confused.
"What?" She asked.
Stilesâ
Someone's behind you.
"What?" Scott whispered, his eyes darting to the camera. He clicked to see the room behind him, seeing a figure standing by the corner just as it grabbed him and shoved him against the wall.
"I saw you on the field." Derek growled, his grip on Scott unrelenting.
"What are you talking about?" Scott stammered, fear creeping into his voice.
"You shifted in front of them!" Derek hissed. "If they find out what you are, they'll find out about meâand all of us. It's not just hunters we have to worry about; it's everyone."
Scott tried to protest, but Derek cut him off. "If you even think about playing in that game on Saturday, I'll kill you myself." With that, he vanished out the window.
Hazel stood frozen, staring at the open window. "What just happened?" She whispered, her voice trembling.
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The next morning, Hazel approached her locker with a growing sense of unease. She felt like someone was watching her. When she glanced to her side, she saw the edge of a black jacket disappear around the corner. Her stomach twisted, but she shook it off and headed to math class.
Scott and Lydia were solving equations on the board, but Hazel noticed Scott was distracted. When the bell rang, she caught up with him in the hallway.
"What's going on?" she asked.
"Nothing," he muttered, shoving books into his locker.
Before Hazel could press him further, Stiles dragged Scott into the corner, pointing at Sheriff Stilinski speaking with another man. "What are they saying?" he asked urgently.
Scott listened intently, then sighed. "Curfew, because of the body."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "Great. My dad's out chasing some rabid animal while the real killer's just hanging out."
Hazel frowned. "You can't exactly tell your dad the truth about Derek."
Stiles smirked. "No, but I can do something better. I'll find the other half of the body."
Hazel's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"
"Very," Stiles said, walking off confidently.
Scott noticed Lydia introducing one of the lacrosse players to Allison. Without hesitation, he walked toward them, with Hazel following closely behind, her book clutched to her chest.
Lydia glanced at Scott, her expression unreadable, before she quickly dragged the lacrosse player away, leaving Scott and Hazel standing in front of Allison.
"So Lydia's introducing you to everyone now?" Scott asked, trying to keep his tone light.
Allison smiled sweetly. "She's being so unbelievably nice to me," she replied, her voice tinged with surprise.
Hazel raised an eyebrow, her face contorting with confusion. "I wonder why," Scott remarked suspiciously.
"Me too," Hazel chimed in, her voice flat, though her mind was spinning with curiosity.
"Maybe she knows how much being the new girl can suck," Allison offered, her smile softening.
Scott's eyes fell on the jacket Allison was holding in her hands. "Where did you get that?" he asked, his tone sharpening slightly.
Allison glanced down at the jacket. "This? It was in my locker. I think Lydia brought it back from the partyâshe has my combination."
Scott's expression shifted. "Did she bring it back, or did someone give it to her to give to you?" he asked quickly, his voice tinged with urgency.
Allison frowned, clearly puzzled. "Like who?"
"Like Derek," Scott replied, the name slipping out like a warning.
"Your friend?" Allison asked, raising her eyebrows.
"He's not my friend," Scott corrected firmly. "How much did you talk to him when he drove you home?" His voice was steady, but the tension in it was unmistakable.
"Not much at all," Allison answered, her confusion growing. "I mean, when I left, Hazel was the only one left with him."
Scott's head snapped toward his sister. Hazel nervously pursed her lips, avoiding his gaze.
"What did you say?" Scott asked, his voice low, as he turned back to Allison.
Allison looked increasingly uncomfortable. She gestured toward her classroom, giving an awkward smile. "I... I really have to get to class."
"Allisonâ" Scott began, but she quickly cut him off.
"No, I really have to go." She said, her words rushed as she turned and headed to class.
Scott stood frozen for a moment before he turned slowly to Hazel, his frustration now fully directed at her. "You were in a car alone with Derek Hale?" He asked, his voice tight with anger.
Hazel held up her hands defensively. "Uh... listen. I didn't know! He offered us a ride homeâhe was nice about it. How was I supposed to know he was the guy who did it?" She said, her words spilling out quickly in her defense.
Scott glared at her, his jaw tightening. "Don't ever do that again. I'm not playing around." He warned before storming off.
Hazel sighed deeply, watching him leave before turning toward her locker. She opened it and dropped her book inside, finally freeing her aching arms. With a shake of her head, she muttered to herself. "Like you're not younger than me and still boss me around."
S/T: Up at night, up at night
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