You First
Scott catches Stiles in the hallway - or Stiles catches him rather - and they talk like normal, like they always have, but Scott can’t brush off the constant pressure hanging over his head whenever their eyes find each other. It’s been a week since Stiles came out about the stalker and lacrosse field incident and ever since, Scott has been listening and watching for any changes in Stiles’ behaviour.
So far, things didn’t seem so bad.
Except that Stiles would space out every now and then and somedays, Stiles wouldn’t talk much. He would disappear after school, not saying bye to Scott, hardly texting him. Scott attempted to drag information out of him when he got the opportunity but Stiles could dodge his advances without breaking a sweat.
It was frustrating.
“Who are you taking to the carnival, Scott?”
Stiles and Scott turn around to see Lydia approaching them. She looks at Stiles too, as if asking without saying the words.
“What carnival?” Scott replies, searching Stiles’ face - watching as his attention has zeroed completely in on Lydia now.
“The Valentine's carnival, obviously,” she answers, blinking back at Scott, “Downtown. Tonight. Everyone’s going.”
“Are you going?” Stiles swoops in not so subtly. He holds back a wince - Scott notices - when Lydia ponders the question.
“Well, nobody’s asked me,” she drawls, pursing her lips, “But I don’t need a date to enjoy myself.”
Scott can see the anticipation on Stiles’ face, the way he’s mustering up the courage to blurt out that he’s available. At the same time, he sees Allison and she’s going up to them from the lockers, fixated on Lydia too. The carnival flyer in her hand.
Crap.
Allison and Stiles notice each other and their expressions suddenly harden, like two lions after a gazelle. They rush at Lydia, mouths open -
“Wanna go with me?”
Pause.
All eyes fall on Scott.
It’s as if someone dropped a ton of cement on his head the moment the sentence flies out of his mouth. He represses a whine and refuses to meet Stiles’ gaze, because who knows what’s waiting for him there, but Allison’s is unavoidable. She’s perplexed and hurt. He kind of hopes someone will knock him out so he doesn’t have to look anymore.
Lydia, on the other hand, doesn’t look upset at all. She considers it thoughtfully and even smiles, readjusting her purse, almost shyly.
“If you don’t have other plans, then, I would like that.”
She glances at Allison, tries to read her, waits to see if she’s opposed to the arrangement but Allison flashes an approving smile so Lydia looks back to Scott.
“Eight O’clock then, Scott? I’ll text you later.”
“Mhmm, cool,” Scott responds anxiously, watching as Lydia and Allison take off, huddled close and speaking in hushed voices. There’s a long moment before he remembers that Stiles is still standing to his right. Knowing he has to face this at some point, he looks at his best friend, maintaining the best guilty face he can.
“Stiles-”
“What are you doing?” Stiles asks, voice rising, “That’s Lydia. The girl that I - Scott, seriously, what are you thinking ?”
“You and Allison were both going to ask her out so I thought if I asked first then neither of you would get rejected and. . . Get your feelings hurt.”
“This isn’t first grade, Scott,” Stiles rolls his eyes, “You honestly asked Lydia out because you were worried we would get our feelings hurt ?”
“I don’t know, it came out of nowhere, sorry. It was dumb.”
“You have to break it off with her,” Stiles goes on, waving his hands around his head, “You pretty much asked her out of pity.”
“It wasn’t pity ,” Scott denies, growing a little defensive, “I like Lydia too. Just not the way you do.”
“That’s not how it seemed from over here.”
Scott stares at him, having nothing else to add because what could he say ? He can see the hurt fogged in Stiles’ eyes now too, the way it was with Allison, as if he betrayed them somehow, and his stomach feels like it’s caving in on itself.
Don’t be upset. I’ll make it okay.
Don’t be mad at me.
I promise to do better.
“If I tell her why I did it then she’ll know you like her - and Allison too, remember?” Scott argues, “Besides, it’s not a date or anything, she doesn’t want me like that.”
“Lydia can decide who she wants to be with for herself. Have a great time,” Stiles mocks, stalking off.
Scott hates the everlasting disappointment echoing in Stiles’ voice
He doesn’t watch him go, he’s afraid to see.
True to his word, Scott picks Lydia up at eight. Right on time.
He had to give himself a mini pep talk in the car before jogging up to the door, to figure out how to untangle this problem. So far everything was smooth sailing. Nothing out of the norm for two friends going to the fair or whatever. At least, he hoped so.
At the carnival, Scott doesn’t find it hard to hangout with Lydia. She’s easy to talk to, much easier than half the guy in school make it sound, in his opinion. She’s funny too, more than he expected. Throughout the few hours they spend together, he can’t help but grow on her a lot, forming a closer connection. It’s nice to be himself with her.
It’s not until Lydia asks if they can go on the Ferris Wheel that Scott gets nervous.
Because while he was hopeful, there’s still a chance she thinks this is more than platonic. And the worst possible thing he can do is reject Lydia after watching her laugh all night.
As soon as they take their seats, the ride starts and they get higher and higher into the air. Scott notices Lydia wrapping her arms around herself, closing in physically. Which bothers him for some reason. Because maybe it’s not just physically.
Maybe Lydia’s used to closing herself off to others.
“Without the greasy food and animal pen smells, it’s actually pretty,” Lydia notices, leaning her upper body onto the cart, watching the shooting and spinning lights of all the rides beneath them.
“Yeah,” Scott replies, looking out too - antsy.
Lydia stares a bit longer and then pulls her jacket closer, holding it against her chest for warmth, peering over at him, “You’re a really great guy, Scott.”
“So are you,” Scott answers instantly but when she raises a curious eyebrow, he stutters, “Uh - no, I mean a great girl, obviously. Girl . You’re totally a great girl, Lydia.”
She breaks out into another carefree smile and then folds her hands in her lap, on top of her bare knees.
“Are you flirting with me, Scott McCall?”
Scott’s eyes widen and he opens his mouth -shuts it - then opens it again but Lydia beats him to it.
“Relax, I’m teasing you. I’ve known you and Stiles since grade school. I think you’re the only boy who didn’t googly eye me.”
“Is that a good thing?” Scott questions, concerned about the direction of this conversation.
“It means,” she replies, amused, “I can’t imagine why you asked me instead of Stiles out tonight.”
What she was insinuating takes what seems like years to seep in but when it does, Scott’s face reddens and he has to leans over the cart again for fresh air. He has no idea how to take that or how to respond to it.
“You’re going to make someone really happy, one day,” she adds, voice more serious and intact, the smile fading from her features. She drops her gaze to her lap and breathes in and out, staring back out at the carnival tents.
It’s there - at that moment that Scott can see why Allison and Stiles are in love with her. She’s so strong, fighting her loneliness, surviving in a world where she accepts being misunderstood.
“Hey,” Scott breaks out softly, moving across the cart so that he’s sitting next to her now, placing his hand over her own for reassurance, “You’re going to find someone who cares about you more than anything in the world. Trust me. And when that happens, I can say I told you so .”
She looks back at him and swallows, inhaling shortly before nodding, appreciation clear in her features. And he knows that she cares about him too, the same way. She squeezes his hand and hides her face, slightly embarrassed.
“Thanks, Scott.”
The carnival games are harder than Scott anticipated. He’s already spent another five dollars at a shooting one, to win Lydia something - be a gentleman. She’s entertained at least, praising his efforts through laughter. As he picks the toy gun up for one last round, someone takes it out of his hand and shoots the targets, hitting each one with perfect accuracy.
“Allison,” Lydia scolds, clearly more than happy to see her.
Allison puts the gun down, throwing Scott an apologetic but not really all that sorry look while pointing to the biggest, fluffiest stuffed animal they had so she can give it to Lydia proudly.
“My hero,” Lydia states, hugging the bear - looking up through her lashes at her fondly.
“Where’d you learn to shoot?” Scott gawks in amazement, thinking he deserved to get shown up anyways.
“My dad,” Allison shrugs humbly, swiveling her head. “By the way, Stiles-”
“-Has cotton candy,” Stiles greets them, appearing from behind Scott. They lock eyes briefly but it doesn’t last for very long. He hands his cotton candy stem over to Lydia, watching as she pulls a piece out from the cotton candy to feed to Allison.
Allison squints at Stiles, glowing - nice try .
“I’ve had to deal with Stiles all night,” Allison complains jokingly, “Save me, Lydia?”
“Scott couldn’t keep up anyways,” Lydia agrees and grabs Allison’s hand as if were the most natural thing on the planet. Scott swears rockets just went off for both of them. As they go, Lydia sends Scott a knowing signal, conveying her thanks and that she’s figured some secret out he himself doesn’t know yet.
A few kids scream nearby and it breaks that thought, leading Scott back to Stiles, to his obvious silence. It’s awkward so Scott shoves his hands in his pockets and puffs air out from his lips. People laugh and shout around them, bringing him back to where they are.
“We’re doing the haunted house,” Scott decides, leaving no room for debate, because he has to alleviate the atmosphere. Stiles hums in approval, like he already forgot they were fighting, or he doesn’t want to talk about it, and they head off.
The second they’ve stepped inside the haunted house, something pops out - getting them both to jump in reaction. Glancing at each other, they slowly grin.
“Scaredy cat,” Stiles plays, nudging Scott with his shoulder.
“Uh - okay - Is that why I see piss on your leg, Stiles?”
Pushing Scott forward, Stiles chuckles, and they go into a black hallway with eerie red lighting on the ceiling. Heavy breathing resounds from behind one of the walls up ahead, which freaks them both out a little.
“I can’t see,” Stiles grimaces, sticking close to Scott from behind, his body heat a reminder of when this situation was reversed, when Stiles was the one in charge, and Scott followed. Now, Scott takes the lead. He isn’t the scared little boy in the woods anymore from when they were kids Their days of chasing make-believe monsters in order to run from the real ones.
In the torture room, a girl’s arm is gruesomely sawn off and Stiles grabs Scott’s bicep, preventing himself from fainting. Scott doesn’t think much about it, he’s too focused on the man chained up to the wall, howling out in agony. It’s unsettling, scary, and churns his stomach. Overall, the house is pretty creepy but they sort of laugh off most of it, shuffling through the dark rooms, bodies pressed closer and closer as time goes by. Nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, they race each other to the exit - until a masked man runs out from a wall with a chainsaw.
Stiles freezes, all fun and games disappearing for him. He doesn’t move, not even when Scott shakes him. The man inches closer, revving up the fake weapon, so Scott tugs Stiles forcefully out of the house, leading him behind the ride’s wall, where there’s nobody looking.
“It’s me, just me, Stiles,” Scott murmurs, getting him to look up. Stiles is quiet and then chuckles awkwardly, rubbing the sweat off his forehead.
“Uh, yeah. I know it’s not real. I was caught off guard is all.”
He’s about to play it off and move on to another ride but Scott blocks him.
“We have to talk about it.”
“What?” Stiles retorts, “The chainsaw guy? I already told you-"
“Someone tried to stab you, Stiles,” Scott interjects in a low voice, “And you could’ve gotten hurt.”
Stiles stares back at him, caught off guard for a second time.
“I didn’t, it’s done - zilch left to say about it,” he blurts, doing the lip biting, “So quit keeping an eye on me all the time. It’s annoying.”
Scott remains quiet, steps back out of Stiles’ space, heart sinking.
“If you didn’t try to protect me, you wouldn’t have been in danger.”
It’s my fault. You getting hurt.
I wasn’t there for you.
I’m sorry.
Cheerful shouting echoes overhead, on the rollercoaster nearby. The silence between them drags out and Scott finally looks up again and his heart drops further and further. Stiles’ face is in horror, like he was just told a very bad joke. He steps forward off the wall, back into Scott’s bubble.
“Are you kidding me, Scotty?” he asks sadly, in disbelief, “That was nobody’s fault except the kid who’s ass is going to jail for attacking me. He could have hurt you too. Get that? He would have hurt you if I didn’t get lucky,” he explains, “Okay? I got lucky that I found him out. If not, he might have tried something on you. Something bad.”
Scott swallows thickly and shakes his head.
“It doesn’t matter. You could’ve died, Stiles. And he was after me and what if-”
“Shut up,” Stiles cuts off, “We could talk about what if all night but the point is, he’s gone and nothing happened to us. It’s not your fault and it’s not mine. We’re okay.”
Drinking that in, Scott knows it’s the truth, and he sighs some of the guilt away but the rest is still buried inside, threatening to burst.
“Well, I’m sorry about Lydia,” he spills out, thinking it’s best to do that too while they’re at it, “I shouldn’t have intervened.”
“No, I acted like a dick,” Stiles shoots back, “Lydia doesn’t belong to me or Allison or anyone. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
If that wasn’t music to Scott’s ears, nothing was. Stiles blinks at him and ducks his head, swiping the back of his knuckles up to his cheek.
“Besides,” he says, the sternness replaced with a softer tone, “I told you before, but I guess I have to repeat it. I like Lydia - like really really like her, but-”
In wonder, Scott tilts his head, patient and seeking. Visibly embarrassed, Stiles scratches his arm and then kicks out at Scott’s ankle lightly, moving back towards the crowd, as if changing his mind.
“I bet you’ll scream on more rides than me. Let’s go.”
“Wait, what were you-”
“How about the fireball first? You’re totally going to shout your head off, dude.”
Going with it - because once Stiles’ changes his mind there’s no convincing him otherwise - Scott runs after him anyways, to the roller coaster, weaving through the crowd. Acting like kids, they slide into the seats, buckling themselves in, pumped, throwing harmless shade at one another.
It isn’t until the ride is about to start, when all voices are mixing in together, that Stiles peers at Scott and leans over an inch. Scott’s heart beats wildly and he doesn’t even understand why.
“I like Lydia,” Stiles whispers, waiting for Scott to meet his eyes. He then inhales and gives a weak smile, one that doesn’t quite reach.
“But there’s someone I like just a tiny bit more.”
Scott is brought back to that night, the first time Stiles said it. When they were huddled under his covers until Stiles dozed off against Scott's shoulder. And back to the recent morning in Stiles' bedroom, waking up to his sleeping face after holding him all night, eating breakfast together as if it were a normal thing - and Scott realizes Stiles has been telling him this all along.
That regardless of his feelings for Lydia, he's always thought of Scott as. . . As more important.
The ride begins, shaking back and forth, jolting them back to reality. And in the end both of them scream, excited and exhilarated, forgetting the heat and tension of their recent arguments. Falling back into their silent, shared happiness.
When the ride rolls to a slow stop and they're holding onto each other as they leave, pointing out their next destination, Scott looks to Stiles.
"Next time, I'll ask you," he swears gently, "not Lydia - not Allison - I'll ask you first."
Stiles turns his head, pupils dialing, and searches Scott's face.
After a beat too long he blushes, looking away quickly.
"Yeah," he laughs, "me too."