@jazzathebunny: Derek/Stiles The Sandlot AU. :)
Done for my anything crossover prompts! And I know this canon! So this would have been a fun AU if I had done sandlot canon stuff, but instead I wrote this:
It’s not the worst thing that could have happened.
“This is the worst thing that could have happened,” Scott says, moaning into his mitt.
Stiles nudges him in the side with the tip of his bat, because it really isn’t. They could’ve beaned Jackson in the face again—which would have been hilarious, obviously, but also a pain in the ass, since Jackson would’ve finally gone and cried to his dad about all many times Stiles tries to take his head off with a baseball. It’s not Stiles’s fault that Jackson’s head is so gigantically swollen with ego.
Jackson says, “You know the rules, Stilinski,” smirking at him with his arms crossed. They’re all gathered at the back of the makeshift dugout, staring at the six foot privacy fence. “You fouled.”
Fouled so bad the ball went back and to the side, sailing over into Old Man Hale’s yard.
Scott says, “Worst,” again, and then wraps his arms around Stiles from behind in a hug, burying his face in Stiles’s back. “I’m sorry, dude.”
No one has actually met Old Man Hale, but everyone has met his dog.
His wolf-thing. His slavering hell-beast that is fifty times bigger than any dog should be allowed to be, with huge, razor sharp teeth and a snarl that has legit made Greenberg wet himself before. Stiles swears he’s seen its eyes glow red, when he’s gotten too close to the fence. There’s an ever-widening hole, it looks like it’s been constantly clawed at, and everyone fears for the day when it breaks through and kills them all.
Not like that stops them from playing. They’ve only got six more months before they break up the sandlot for college, Stiles may hate Jackson with every last fiber of his being, but they’ve all been playing here way too long to give up this close to graduation—their unfriendly new neighbor is just going to have to suck it up, and then if the hell hound ever actually breaks through the old, rickety fence, they can just throw Jackson and maybe Greenberg at it and run.
Danny cups a hand over his eyes, looks up at the sky. "Maybe we should just call it a day.“
Stiles pshaws. They have at least an hour more of daylight, they’re on their last ball, and Stiles is totally going to go over and get it. He tugs at the bottom of his t-shirt and straightens his back. Totally. Right. He reaches back and pats Scott on the head before prying his arms off him and saying, “Tell my father I love him.”
Jared starts openly weeping, and Stiles winks at him and forces a casual saunter toward Old Man Hale’s yard.