♡ 𝙩𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪 ♡
𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘳

bring on the lies

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

ON TUESDAY MORNING, DEREK HALE WAS ARRESTED FOR THE MURDER OF JANE DOE.

The woman had still not been identified and the police department had concluded that there was no need for a trial, - much to James Garcia's approval - and took the man into custody.

Stiles Stilinski snuck into the police car when it became unguarded, his best friend shaking his head in dismay as he did so. Once inside, he faced the werewolf that was behind the metal caging interior. "Just so you know, I'm not afraid of you." he took notice of Derek's stern look and stammered. "Okay, so maybe I am. Doesn't matter. I just wanna know something."

He readjusted his seating and leaned forward. "What did you mean when you told Scott to steer clear from the Garcias? Are they like, hunters or something?"

Derek didn't reply, keeping his cold expression as hard as stone. "Or are they werewolves.. like you?" he then trailed off. "And.. and why did you kill that girl? She could turn into a full wolf.. is that why?"

The Hale inhaled sharply. "Why are you so worried about me when it's your friend who's the problem?" he watched as Stiles leaned back. "When he shifts on the field, what do you think they're gonna do, huh? Just keep cheering him on?" he paused. "I can't stop him from playing, but you can.. and trust me, you want to."

As Stiles fell deep in thought, his father harshly yanked him from out of the car and ignored his son's false mumbles of pain.

"There. Stand." he stood before his son, watching as he sighed heavily. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Stiles lied smoothly. "I'm just tryna help."

Noah threw his hands in his pockets and nodded. "Uh-huh. Okay, well, how about you help me understand exactly how you came across this."

He let out another sigh and shook his head. "We were looking for Scott's inhaler."

"Which he dropped when?"

Stiles shrugged. "The other night."

Noah knitted his brows. "The other night when you were out here, looking for the first half of the body?"

"Yes." his son replied tiredly.

"The night that you told me you were alone and Scott was at home?"

"Yes!" he saw the disappointment on his father's face and panicked once he saw how he had fallen into his father's trap. "No! Oh, crap."

"So you lied to me?"

Stiles bounced in his sneakers. "If that's how you define lying."

Noah squinted his eyes at his son and huffed. "Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?"

"Reclining your body in a horizontal.. position?"

His father dismissed him with a wave of his hand and the boy nodded eagerly, practically running towards his jeep.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Dallas Garcia removed her dangly earrings as she stared into the bathroom mirror, studying the new cheer uniforms the team had been given. They were blue, itchy, and seemed to be bedazzled with sequins - but they were better than the rundown red ones that they had last year.

Once she reached the field, her other teammates had begun to rally near the stands but she took the moment to check up on Lydia. Her father grinned at her from the stands - which she returned confusedly. Her father had never really been a lover of lacrosse - or cheerleading for that matter. But nonetheless, the support sharpened her enthusiasm. She didn't seem to see Lydia, though, until she heard the familiar voice of the girl scolding Scott from the field.

She approached the strawberry blonde, placing her hands on her hips as she reached the two. "Are you gonna support your best friend or are you gonna stand here and scold the puppy for the rest of the game?"

Lydia raised her eyebrows and cocked her head at the brunette. "You're right, I better get back to Allison." She joked, pushing past the lacrosse player and the cheerleader.

Dallas frowned, feeling a pang of hurt strike her in the chest. During the hardest parts of her life - it was always Lydia and Dallas against the world... But now? She seemed like the third wheel.

Scott noticed her hurt expression and offered her an understanding smile. "You'll do great. Your team always does."

Dallas simply nodded her head, releasing a sharp breath and spinning on her heel. She kept her head high and returned to her team, the squad greeting her moments later.

Coach Finstock blew his whistle as a plethora of lacrosse players emptied out onto the field. The rest of the cheerleaders whooped and cheered for the boys, but Dallas noticed that Stiles seemed terribly anxious - more than usual. The players steadied themself on the field and held their positions while waiting for the next blow of the whistle. Once it did, the boys tackled and threw themselves at each other.

Both Scott and Jackson set their eyes on the ashy ball. They both galloped and threw themselves towards it. The Whittmore tackled Scott and he fell backward onto the muddy grass. Melissa McCall winced as she watched her only son pick himself up from the floor. Jackson scooped up the ball with his stick and aimed it towards the goal - earning the first score.

Lydia and Allison cheered in unison and giggled together, something that made Dallas narrow her eyes. She hated feeling second best, mainly because she always was. Stiles always chose Lydia over her, and now Lydia was choosing Allison.

Even her own mother sought after something better than Dallas. No matter what she did - she'd never be good enough for anyone. The brunette crossed her arms and a sour look overtook her face.

McCall readjusted his position, taking a look at the supportive poster Lydia and Allison held up for Jackson. Once the whistle blew again, the boy jumped effortlessly in the air and caught the ball from the opposing team. He swiftly dodged the lacrosse sticks from other players and shot the ball into the goal.

The entire crowd cheered for him, along with the other cheerleaders. Dallas cocked her head to the side as she saw a glimpse of Scott McCall's face. It was either a trick of the terribly poor lighting or her low energy finally getting to her - but she could've sworn she saw his eyes glow. He scored another goal, the ball shooting straight through the rope of his lacrosse stick.

Seconds before the game was finished, Dallas noticed one of Scott's friends - the one who had offered her a ride from the party - standing for afar with a hood covering half of his face.

He noticed her curious stare and met his eyes with hers before turning his back, walking away without a second glance. Dallas dropped her pom-poms to the floor and followed in pursuit as all the others ran on the field, the final buzzing blaring in the night.

"Hey, wait!" she called out, reaching the front of the school. But to no avail, the man had disappeared. "Hello?"

"You need to start being more careful, I could be a serial killer." a voice spoke from behind her. She turned her head to see Derek Hale with his hands shoved in his pockets.

She stepped back and examined him. "Aren't you?"

"Falsely accused. An animal did that, not me." he kept a cold expression on his face but his tone was gentle, almost as if he was talking to someone he knew dearly.

She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by her father's yelling. "Dallas!"

He approached the two and gave a stern look towards Derek. "Get in the car, please." Dallas knew not to protest and did as her father said, but not without giving him a second glance.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" James whispered towards Derek who rolled his eyes.

"She followed me. You should be keeping a better eye on her."

James ran a hand over his face and inhaled sharply. "Look, Derek. I don't want Dallas apart of all this stuff, I told you that the moment Marilyn left. Just leave things be."

He turned around to leave but Derek spoke up. "You can't keep it from her forever. It's not something that can be brushed under the rug, she's not like you and you know it."

"You know nothing." James Garcia clenched his jaw and continued walking to his car, watching as the werewolf disappeared into the night.

☆ word count: 1,464. ☆