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With a grunt and whisper shouted “Fuck” Stiles stumbles against a bench in the unlit locker room.
“Good one Stiles you brought the flashlight for a reason” Reaching into his dropped bag he pulls out a drill, revving it once with a smile before replacing it and taking out a flashlight.
Pulling out his phone he swears again. Dialling Scott again. “Come on dude, where are you?”
Scott steps up behind him “Stiles?”
Spinning, arm with the flashlight raised in defence; other against his chest, Stiles shouts. “Shit, Fuck, You asshole” Breath stutter “You scared the piss out of me. Jesus I am getting you a bell.”
Scott laughs with a big smile “You wanted me here Stiles I am here let's do this.”
“Yes” Stiles slaps him on the shoulder as he pushes past him. “Lets do this.”
Stiles places his flashlight on the desk to help illuminate the room. In the dim light they get to work. The quiet buzz of the drills as they remove screws and set up the prank. Stiles giggles as they place the box on Finstock's desk.
Scott yawns, checking the clock on the wall.“Mom's gonna be home from her shift soon. I got to go, you good here?”
*Yup* Stiles pops the p at the end of the world he’s so hyped up he is bouncing on his toes. “Gonna make sure we didn't leave anything behind and get out of here asap.”
Stiles checks over the lines of wire to make sure none of them will slip early or not go at all. He’s checking that the white board isn't smudged when he stops, his eyes getting big.
Shaking his head slowly as he runs his finger over the play that is drawn out, careful not to erase the lines.
Its not the play that has his attention, it's the names vs numbers. The word Alpha was written over the number 11 and that had really caught his attention, but after closer inspection he was now standing slack jawed.
11 - Alpha - McCall
24 - Spark - Stilinski
14 - Betta - Lahey
6 - Lono? - Mahealani
8 - Waldleute - Greenberg
By what he was seeing, the coach knew, and by the look of this maybe he knew more than they did?
“What the hell coach???” Stiles pulls out his phone and takes a quick pic. Before shuffling everything into his bag and getting the hell out of there.
Stiles spends the rest of the night spiralling, drops into bed for a few hours and main lines some coffee before heading to school, deciding not to mention to anyone what he has found out yet.
When the cry of “Son of a bitch!” echoes out from Coach Finstock's office into the classroom where Scott and Stiles trying hard not to smile too brightly as the rest of the class laughed. Stiles smirks, Finstock after all doesn’t know “everything”