Werecheetah in Teen Wolf (AU)

Monday Afternoon January 10th, 2011. Beacon Hills, California.

Mo was geared up and ready to go within five minutes. Due to his towering height none of the pads covered the entire intended area but also sat fairly loose due to his lack of body-fat and overall width.

He still didn't look as goofy as Jackson did as he stood menacingly in the center of the field, waiting for Mo to enter once more.

"This is why I said we shouldn't have helped him." Stiles said as he noticed Jackson.

"Jackson hates us already. It doesn't matter. And I'm not letting a bully dictate my actions."

"Look at you all big and strong with your advanced vocab. Must've been the wolf bite….. or maybe, a werew—"

"Stiles!" Scott groaned.

"Too soon? My bad." Stiles almost dropped his helmet.

Mo side eyed the two after mention of the word, "Either he knows. Doesn't know or pretends he doesn't."

"Alright! Everybody line up." Coach Bobby yelled across the field.

In a matter of seconds, the whole of Beacon Hills High School Lacrosse team was lined up right outside the fields limits. By the coach's command, the line was made into two.

He stood before them like a hung over drill sergeant.

"Last season, we averaged a few too god damn many lost balls and failed chase downs. So, we're starting off nice and early with speed work. Along with a little team building and competition. Today's session to start our season will be ball races. Forget the goal. Move your feet like your... just kidding Greenburg. I'll ease up on your for now."

Mo stretched as he waited in line. Jackson pushed and shoved his way through until he was Mo's opponent.

"Anyway!" Coach Bobby yelled, "Two of you will run to retrieve the ball as I throw it. Whoever gets the most catches today won't have to do any of the history homework for the rest of the month."

"What?! You can do that?" Stiles yelled up the line.

"Probably not, narc. Give me thirty push-ups." Coach Bobby replied.

Stiles cursed, "It's like I can't even…. Dammit!"

"Players at the ready!" Coach Bobby yelled as he warmed the ball in his hand.

The two students at the front of the line dug their cleats into the dirt.

"GO!" Coach Bobby threw the small white ball down the field with a wicked high arc.

The students took off with their sticks held ready to catch the ball.

Dirt particles and grass chunks rose in their wakes until finally one of them jumped for the ball as it fell ahead of them.

The two dove, crashing and burning in the grass. The crowd cringed.

They eventually both got up without the ball.

Coach Bobby pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT? YOU CANT CATCH A BALL, JORDAN?!!"

"Guess not, coach." Jordan mumbled back.

"Next up!" Coach Bobby yelled as he retrieved the ball and ran back to the outside of the field.

He blew his whistle and the next pair took off.

Dead ball again.

Coach angry again. As always.

Rinse repeat.

The air grew tense. The crowd went quiet, some watching earnestly for the final catch while others grew embarrassed for the out of shape team.

Mo never cared much for sports. He was always a sprinter. And that was a solo act. An act of survival and enjoyment. It was never tense. Not even when packs of werewolves or prides of WereLions and squads of hunters were hot on his heels. In motion, he was in control.

But as the line shortened and his turn came, he felt himself bracing.

He felt the collective anxiety and competition of the young men surrounding him.

He felt Scott's supernatural fires of resolve like blazing august sunlight.

He felt the real sun. The real essence of it. One of the few gifts that came with no curse after Mo had stolen the pelt, was the empowering edge of the sun. He ran at night due to circumstance, but if it was up to him, he'd spend more time in the sun. More time running under its radiance. It was there that he felt his skin harden like the diamonds of his home.

It was in the yellow glow that his vision sharpened ever more and his his lungs pulled the energy from the air and made him infinite in speed.

He could hear home.

His leg bounced.

Behind him somewhere, Scott stepped into his true self. He could feel the wolf awakening at his back.

It only made him want to move faste—

The whistle blew suddenly.

With his senses in overdrive it felt like someone jammed a stake through his ears. He keeled over and hissed as his skull vibrated from the shocking pain.

Behind him, Scott suffered the same fate.

Jackson took off with a smirk. Lydia cheered on her champion as he sprinted through the grass with his head high to watch for the ball soaring under the sun.

It neared— now visible as it fell out of the blinding rays.

Jackson adjusted the grip on his stick and reached out for it.

The victory was his.

The first catch of the season—

Shadows enveloped him as a shape soared overhead.

The crowd gasped.

Coach Bobby yelled.

Jackson tripped in his confusion and tumbled like a weed in the grass.

He rolled twice due to his own built up speed before stopping in an upright seated position, facing Mo as he slowed to a stop.

He had his back to Jackson, breaths heavy. Not with exhaustion but excitement.

The crowd held their breaths.

Mo turned around with a massive smile, "Here you go, champion." He tossed Jackson the ball.

The crowd cheered. Even Lydia. Much to Jackson's dismay.

Mo giggled to himself, "Ohhhhohoho…. I think I like this sport. Even with the werewolf."

****************

No translations needed this chap.

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