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summary: she hears him out—lets him talk from his perspective. they find common ground.
tags: scull bar, loneliness, minor drinking, beware the inevitable creepy man at the bar, conversations, apologies, enemies-to-somewhat-friends
word count: 2,400
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Mystic Falls is not the same that it was when Bonnie left it. In fact, it’s as if the town did a complete one-eighty, and left her behind in the process. Her friends were different—one erased the memories of her lover, while the other fell in love with her best friend—and her boyfriend had moved across the country without a trace. Even the town itself seemed to have a different chill in the air. The only constant is Damon—the man with whom she bickered for four months whilst being stuck in a prison world—who she now sees as probably her best friend. It’s weird, yet oddly comforting.
Bonnie takes a sip of the bourbon in her glass; it's a feeble attempt at blocking out the thoughts racing through her head. She feels lost in the new version of Mystic Falls, and only being out of 1994 for two weeks, she hasn’t quite found her footing. On top of everything being unfamiliar, this is also her first time in college being actually alive. She had been the anchor throughout her freshman year, making an already difficult transition so much worse. So now, as she navigates a post-anchor, post-same-day-repeating world, she adapts to changes she never expected to face. And in a town such as this, that’s really saying something.
Usually, Bonnie would be tackling these types of uncertainties with Damon. At least, that’s how they’ve spent the last four months. They would sit in the living room of the boarding house, glasses in hand, and bounce points off one another. Anything would be solved that way—questions, comments, concerns—and usually, they’d find a way to deal. But tonight, Damon’s having guy-time at the Grill with Alaric, and Stefan and Caroline are in the boarding house, and honestly, Damon’s bound to end up there too, with Elena, by the end of the night, so Bonnie’s found herself alone in the Scull Bar for a drink. It’s close to her dorm, to which she’ll retire after a few glasses, and she more or less knows the company. College kids, mostly. Some she recognizes from classes. Some, like Liv, she knows a little better.
What Bonnie hadn’t expected, though, is the average drunk in his forties to be present that night. But he’s there, nonetheless, and she feels him before she sees him.
The man comes up to her as the glass is raised to her lips. He puts a hand on the small of her back, effectively making her jump. He chuckles at her reaction and she can feel the ends of his mustache tickle her earlobe.
“Sorry, darling. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Back away from me,” she says immediately.
He moves maybe an inch. His face does, turning to look at her instead. Then, he parks himself in the chair beside her, but his hand stays on her waist.
“Get your hands off me.”
“No need to be such a snark, there, girl.” He snaps back. “What’s your name, darling?”
“Not interested.”
Bonnie looks around for Liv, but can’t find her. She debates using magic on him, but the scene is just a bit too sparse for her to do it subtly.
“Aww, come on. Don’t be like that. Let me buy you a drink.”
Bonnie shakes her glass. “No thanks. Already have one.”
“It’s almost done. Second round is on me.”
“I should be getting back.”
“Night’s far from over. Entertain me, just a little. What’s your name?”
The girl looks down at her lap, wondering if she can make an excuse to text Damon. He’s not taking the hint that she’s not interested. If anything, he’s only getting more audacious.
“Listen, I’ve had a day. I just wanted one glass and then to go to bed. I—”
“Come to bed with me. I can show you a good time.” His grip on her waist tightens. He rises from his seat to get in her face again. “I bet you’ve never been with a real man.”
“I don’t want—” she tries to push him off, but then realizes just how strong he’s holding onto her. “Get off me!"
“Come on, beautiful. You know you want it.”
“Hey, dipshit,” a sudden voice fills Bonnie’s ears. The new person pushes his hands away from her with a force, then stands in between her and the man. “Get your hands off her.”
“Yeah? And who the fuck are you?”
“The one who’s gonna beat you up if you don’t keep your hands to yourself.”
“Really? You?”
“I could kill you before you even blink.” Bonnie finally recognizes the familiar threats of Kai Parker. “And I will if you touch her one more time.”
The man stares at Kai. First, with a challenging look, but the longer the two maintain their eye contact, the more he starts to falter. Kai’s shoulders are squared to him. His posture is tense. The once-belligerent man seems to shrink under his gaze.
“Fine. She’s not worth fighting your obviously crazy ass.” He looks at Bonnie. “Good luck with this psycho.”
After he leaves, Kai turns to face Bonnie. “You okay?”
“What are you doing here?”
Kai only stares at her now.
She sighs. “I’m fine.”
“Did he touch you at all?”
“Not aside from what you apparently saw.”
“Good.”
“And why, exactly, do you care?”
“What are you doing here so late? You could’ve been hurt much worse by someone with his grip strength. You’re too small to defend yourself against men like that.”
“Thanks.”
“You know what I mean.”
Bonnie does, and she knows Kai’s unfortunately right, but she won’t admit that. If that man wanted to, he could’ve easily dragged her out of the bar. Not only did he have the upperhand strength-wise, but he had caught her off guard. Plus, with one glass already sipped down to the ice, she was in no position to fight.
“What are you doing here, Kai?” She returns her original question.
“Wanted a drink. Ric and Damon were at the Grill, so I had to come here. What are you doing?”
“Wanted a drink,” she starts. “Would’ve stayed home if I knew I’d run into you.”
“I just helped you. Why are you being like this?”
“Because now you’re talking to me. Thanks for the defense, but I’m good now. He’s gone.”
Kai sits in the now-unoccupied seat beside her. He’s quiet only for a moment before bothering her again. “I meant it when I said I wanted to apologize to you. You could’ve at least let me finish what I wanted to say.”
“I don’t owe you shit.”
“No, you don't,” he agrees, “but you might as well hear me out.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m not going to leave until you let me.”
“Fine. Get it off your chest, then get the hell out of my face.”
“I’m sorry for leaving you behind in that prison world. I didn’t want to do it, but you didn’t really give me a choice.”
“How is that my fault?”
“I was there, completely alone, for eighteen years. You were there with Damon for four months before it became unbearable. And I know I did some bad shit to get there, but can you at least try to imagine what eighteen years in complete isolation would be like?”
She can. That’s what she feared would happen after she realized Kai was gone.
“When you told me you wouldn’t let me out, I had to hurt you to make sure you couldn’t leave me behind. You were my only chance at an escape, so I had to make that sacrifice. I didn’t want to leave you, Bonnie. I didn’t want to hurt you like that. But I couldn’t be there any longer.”
Desperation leaks into his tone, even now. He’s almost pleading with her; begging for her to understand.
He starts to remind her of a much more immature Katherine Pierce. Much less apt at controlling himself and his emotions but being on the same level when it comes to self-preservation. Katherine was ruthless and didn’t think twice before putting herself above others. But the longer she was around the group, her humanity slowly cracked through the icy exterior that shielded her from harm. By the time of her death, Bonnie even had sympathy for her, considering how they were both tortured by Klaus. Granted, it didn’t erase the crimes she had done, but Bonnie could offer her kindness before accepting her hand to bring her to the Other Side. (Even though Death apparently had other plans.)
Kai seems to be similar in a lot of aspects. She knows the story of his childhood, as well as things Liv and Luke had said about their coven. She can’t relate to him in that way, nor magic-wise, but she can understand the fear of being stuck in that god-awful prison world.
Kai learned early on in his life that he needed to protect himself—no one else was going to offer him a hand. Not even Bonnie, one of the first people he had met in decades.
Hell, he probably heard one of Damon’s speeches about how she’s always been kind to people. He probably wanted her as a friend, or an ally, but she stabbed him in the heart the first time he pissed her off.
“So, what?” She says instead of offering empathy. She might see a softer side to him now, but she’s not ready to let him know it. “Get out, wreck absolute havoc here, merge with your brother, and not give it a second thought that you left me?”
“What?”
“You make it sound like you cared about me, but even once you were secure because of the stupid merge, you still just left me.”
His eyes narrow. “How do you think you remembered Nova Scotia?”
“What?” She turns to him. “What do you mean?”
“It was Damon’s handwriting and Jeremy who placed the map where you could find it, but how do you think they projected into 1994?”
She racks her head for the answer, but turns up nothing.
“I had gone to the boarding house to ask if Damon could give Jo a letter from me. The merge had me feeling guilty and I wanted to apologize. From there, Elena asked if there was a way to send a message to you, and I helped them do it.”
“Why would you do that?”
“Because I care about you, Bonnie. I didn’t like leaving you there, so when I was given the chance to help you get out, I did.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
“Ask Damon. Or Jeremy. Hell, ask Liv. I know she’s around here somewhere.”
“Liv was there? Are you sure she wasn’t the one that projected them?”
“Liv was there to stab me while I was trying to send Jeremy in to help you. If Damon hadn’t given me his blood, little Gilbert and I would’ve died right along with you.”
She stares at the bar table. “That was when I…”
“He opened the garage to save your life. But he wouldn’t have been there if I didn’t get him to you.”
“Why would you risk your life for me?”
“It was the least I could do after the hell I put you through,” he admits. “Look, I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I just need you to hear that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I put you in a situation where you needed saving.” He swallows hard. “I’ll leave you alone now. Thanks for letting me explain.”
Kai gets up from the stool to go, though he doesn’t get far when Bonnie calls him back.
“Wait.”
He stops, turning to face her.
“Sit.”
“What—?”
“Just sit.” Bonnie holds up a two to the bartender and he brings them both a bourbon. She takes a few sips before continuing. “Thank you for the apology. It means more than you might think. Doesn’t erase what happened, but it does count for something.” He nods. “And thank you for helping me get out; for putting your life on the line for mine.”
“Thank you for accepting my apology,” he says quietly, taking a sip of his own. “Hearing me out. Damon always said you were the kindest person he had ever met.”
So he had heard those conversations.
She offers a small smile. He catches her gaze before looking back down at the table. A moment passes where they're still. Sitting in each other's company with the truth laid out in front of them. The energy doesn't feel tense anymore, but neutral, and almost strangely calm.
"This doesn't make us friends," Bonnie says suddenly, cutting through the silence. "But I do appreciate what you've said and done tonight."
"Does it no longer make us enemies?"
She thinks for a second, searching for the best way to word her tangled thoughts. "I'm not going to suddenly trust you because of one conversation between us but I promise I won't forget what you said. Knowing what you've done makes forgiving you difficult, but not every choice you've made has been unforgivable. I guess what I'm trying to say is… On a personal level, no, we're not enemies. But on a higher plane, it's going to take a lot more than this for things to really change between us."
Bonnie isn't sure that makes total sense, but then she sees him nodding along anyway. "So I can wave to you on the street, but not ask you out for coffee?"
"Sure, if that's how you want to put it."
"Could I ever ask you for coffee, if it means I have more to say? Nice things?"
"Verdict's still out on that one. Guess it depends on the grand scheme of things and how you react to them."
He nods again. "Understandable." Glass in hand, he rises from his seat. "Well, thank you again, and I hope to be able to wave to you soon."
He flashes a cheeky grin and she can't help but smile, playfully rolling her eyes as he departs. Will she regret this decision when she wakes up in the morning? Maybe. But with an increasingly long list of enemies in her life and an ever-shortening list of friends, Bonnie would like to have one less enemy if she can help it.
summary: liam doesn't scratch himself anymore, but he bites his nails instead, which is sometimes worse.
tags: mental health issues, depression, anxiety, self harm, nail biting
word count: 479
a/n: hey i'm back with another mental health fic only a few hours after posting the first one. don't worry about me, i just had a rough day. to be honest, i have a billion and one mental health/sh-related fics in my drafts, but i don't post them very often bc i don't want to worry nor trigger anyone. but i realize the same goes for these pieces as any other—read the tags. i'm not romanticizing sh in any way, but i write these to work through my emotions and i post them because maybe they'll comfort someone going through something similar, or they're just a simple hurt/comfort piece for someone looking for mild emotional angst. idk.
additionally, i got in the habit of not posting unless a piece sat in the "oven" "baking" long enough until it was perfect enough to post, but i'm trying to get more into posting when things are written, not when they're "perfect". bc reality is, i don't have as much time to write as i used to, but i am still writing imperfect pieces that i'm learning to love the way that they are. not everything has to be super polished or 10k words to be good. raw, short, emotional fics are just as important as any other. this is a message to both myself and everyone else. post your work. it's good, i promise. ♥
on ao3
Liam doesn't scratch himself anymore, but he bites his nails instead, which is sometimes worse. He doesn't dig his claws into his palms until he bleeds, but he bites down to the bed until his fingers are sore and raw, and every time he uses his hands, they hurt, because his skin healed almost immediately every time, but nails don't grow back like skin over a gaping wound. They stay short and brittle like they do with anyone with full-human DNA, because the werewolf gene doesn't recognize the nail as an important function to self-heal. If a claw broke, it would grow right back, but a nail is just a nail and the finger is still useful without its presence. He can still pick things up and write and fight, it just hurts more because there's nothing protecting his nerves and delicate skin from trauma when it's bare.
So yeah, Liam isn't technically self-harming anymore, but when Theo sees him wince when he links their hands together because he brushed up against the raw underbelly of his nailbed, of course he grows concerned. And when he finally realizes how bad the anxious nibbling has become, he scolds Liam for still harming himself and it becomes a yelling match over if he's hurting himself or not, because Liam swore he was clean, he thought he was getting better, but he actually just found an alternate method that seems less damaging but really isn't.
So when the pride he'd found in himself shatters, he finds himself crying and Theo immediately stops yelling and gathers him in his arms. He didn't mean to hurt him, didn't mean to make him cry. He just didn't want him to hurt himself anymore and it struck his heart to see him in pain.
"Liam, these aren't even healing."
"I'm trying to stop."
Theo kisses his finger tips over and over and over, and he kisses his palms and his knuckles, and eventually pulls him into his arms to give him the gentlest hug. He pulls back only slightly to kiss his neck and cheek and lips, and then hugs him again, and feels a tear drip down his own cheek onto the boy's white shirt.
"Let me take your pain."
"Let me feel it so that I don't do it again."
"Liam…"
"I need to feel it. I need to recognize it. I need to know I'm hurting myself and that I'm my own weapon and that I'm only going to stop when I realize that." He takes a deep breath and sees Theo's lip tremble. Eyes red and watery. "Please don't take my pain. But hold me tight when I start craving hurt and kiss me when i start to spiral. Don't remove the lesson but be the alternative."
"I will always be here to keep you safe. Even if that's from yourself sometimes."
a/n: a little snippet i just wrote mid-depressive episode while i'm not making any progress on wips. this may or may not become something longer in the future. haven't decided yet. | title from i never told you what i do for a living by mcr. i want these lyrics tattooed on me.
ao3
"Just go, please."
Liam doesn't budge. He looks over at Theo with a face full of tears that he doesn't even see, head buried in his hands.
"I just want to be alone."
The cry in the older boy's tone makes his heart ache painfully.
"I don't want to leave you alone like this."
"Yes, you do. I'm no good when I'm like this."
"I don't care. I'm not leaving."
"Liam. Go."
Theo sniffles and it makes his lip tremble.
"Let me help you."
"You can't help me. It's in my head."
"I know. Let me hold you."
Theo pauses—finally looks over at him. Sees his eyes are red and puffy and his cheeks are tear-stained. Sees him crying over him. "What?"
"Just c'mere."
Without thinking twice, Theo shifts his weight to be closer to him. He lets himself go over the center console and feels Liam's arms wrap around his body. In his hold, he feels lighter, like the world's already more manageable just because Liam's there and he didn't leave and he cares enough to comfort and hold him.
He lets out a shaky breath.
"It's okay. You're going to be okay." He squeezes tighter. "I know it hurts. It won't last forever. You'll be okay again and you'll be sad again, but you'll never be alone again. I promise. I'm never going to leave you, Theo. I promise," he repeats.
Theo lets his tears fall without shame—he knows Liam's never one to judge that.
"Thank you," he mutters.
Liam reaches up to press a soft kiss on his cheek. Not uncommon, but something he only does when Theo's at his worst. Something that grounds him, steadies him. Something that promises he's right at his side.
"I've got you," he says, lips pressed gently against his skin. "You're gonna be okay."
I know you’re not really working on requests rn but I’ve had this idea stuck in my head and i need to let it out.
Basically… Kai x reader (preferably f, because im really feeding my delusions with this😪). Reader is friends with the main group (elena, salvatores etc.) but she’s kind of a loner.. maybe something happened and she’s just a bit distant. Anyway, she’s shy and everyone takes care of her because they’re afraid that she can’t defend herself from all the dangers roaming around mystic falls. khmkhm kai khmkhm…
Reader hasn’t met Kai before but she’s heard everything about him and knows he’s a bit dangerous.
Then one day, reader is taking a mental health walk or smth and suddenly bumps into kai. They hit it off really well. Kai is flirtatious and reader is shy like always. They start hanging our regularly in secluded places and they eventually fall in love.
When the readers friends find out that she’s friends (possibly lovers) with kai, they freak out and tell her to cut it off immediately, but she refuses which causes lots of tension.
Idk if this is any good or not😭😭 im really bad with putting my thoughts into words. If this is something you would be up to work with then I’d be really happy🫶 But if this is not something you vibe with then its totally okay as well!! No pressure💗
Hi!!
I know this is in my inbox and I've been trying to find the motivation to write it, because I love this trope, I've just had really bad focus lately!! But I have a quiet-ish day today, so I'm rereading it again and outlining it in my head, and then I realize you're not on anon, so I can respond to acknowledge that I've seen it, and I'll tag you when I've finally written it!!
Apologies for being so slow! I WILL get it written eventually, but thank you for your patience in the meantime!! (And I totally feel you with feeding the delusions, haha!)
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Saying it louder for the people in the back (because they seem to not be listening) : there is no place for AI in fandom.
Repeat.
‼️ THERE IS NO. PLACE. FOR AI. IN FANDOM ‼️
Pick up a pencil. A pen. Pastels. Crayons. Anything.
“But I can’t draw/draw badly!” - Yes you can. Practice.
“But I can’t write/write badly!” - Yes you can. Practice.
Truly for how long is generating this material going to satisfy you? Create with YOUR OWN HANDS. USE YOUR BRAIN. Your AI slop will never fill that void that is the need to create for as long as you use it. Please create from your heart, not from what an AI gives you from the hundreds upon hundreds of works it stole its information from. It's disrespectful to the ones who created them originally and it's selling yourself short! Let's say writing or art just isn't working for you. That's fine! There's other ways to get creative!
Please - create for yourself and see what you can be capable of on your own!
But bottom line: AI does NOT belong in creative/fandom spaces. Keep it out, or continue to get blocked and ignored.
summary: the boys stay up later than they know they should be, talking about everything and anything on their minds. or, liam and theo are trauma-dumping at 3 am.
word count: 10,853
tags: past trauma, trauma-bonding, mentioned dread doctors, mentioned tara, mentioned liam's bio dad, mentions of abusive childhood, minor mention of gun violence, emotional hurt/comfort, mutual pining, first kiss, making out, no smut
a/n: realized i haven't posted a thiam in a while despite the astounding amount of them sitting around in my drafts sawrryyy
read on ao3
Jenna knows it’s wrong to eavesdrop on her son’s conversations. Hell, she spent years teaching him respect and courtesy, and everyone’s right to privacy, even if the temptation to listen in is strong. And those are important values that she must respect herself, especially if she teaches them to her son. If she expects him to listen, she has to set a good example.
But this conversation in particular piques her interest, and as much as she doesn’t want to invade his privacy, she can’t keep herself from listening. On one hand, she’s slightly suspicious; Jenna hears Theo’s voice, and it’s midnight, and though his friend lives here, they both know he’s not allowed to be in Liam’s room this late into the night. It’s her motherly instinct to tune into the two teenagers’ discussion that’s apparently so important it breaks one of her very few rules. On the other hand, she’s worried. Because as she listens carefully, she hears Liam talking about something from his past—something he shares sparingly, even with her.
Brett.
Or more specifically, his attack on Liam when he was only fourteen.
“—and my dad couldn’t see the extent of my injuries until he got me in the car. At first he was upset, because I hadn’t called my mom, but I didn’t want her to see me like that, y’know? Because I could see the blood on my jersey, and it hurt so bad, I could only imagine what I actually looked like.
He admitted to me, then, at the hospital, that he was a little glad I hadn’t called her yet, because he was able to get me out of my jersey and into the hospital gown before she could see my body. It would’ve broken her.”
Jenna’s heart sinks. She didn’t know that.
“Did you have to have surgery?” Theo asks.
His question—reaction—is so simple. She wishes she could see his face.
“No, he was able to avoid it. But I trusted him to do it if he had to.”
“The next time I see Brett, I’m going to kill him.”
“Well, I’ve never even told Mason that it was him,” Liam admits. “So, you can’t.”
Theo’s eyes narrow. “Why?”
He shrugs. “I knew Mason thought he was kinda hot. Didn’t want to ruin that for him.”
“God, Liam…” Theo lays down on his back, diagonally across the bed. He lifts his chin up to look at the boy, throat completely exposed. Liam wonders if that’s on purpose. “Do you have any self-preservation skills?”
Liam laughs. He subconsciously lets his hand drop down to Theo’s head and runs it through his hair. “Uhhh… There's some… In there somewhere.”
“You’re the most self-sacrificing person I’ve ever met. If I had known you in my childhood, I probably wouldn’t be so fucked up now.”
“You had Scott, though. I learned a lot from Scott.”
“Sure you learned from him, but you’re naturally that way, too. Scott gave you a healthy dose of confidence, but you were born kind. Your first words were probably apologizing to your mom for pregnancy pains.”
Liam squints one eye. “I can’t tell if you’re mocking me.”
Theo reaches a hand out to the boy’s knee and keeps it there. “I’m not… this time. I love the way that you are.” Before Liam can respond (he’s a little speechless right now, if he’s honest), Theo adds, “however, I do wish you’d let me beat him up a little bit. Y’know, I didn’t like him to begin with, I could always tell he made you a little uncomfortable, but now I know why. Surprised the doctors didn’t take him to experiment on, considering evil is what they chose to start with.”
Liam chuckles. The implication that Brett’s evil for what he did is kind of touching; the fact that it comes from Theo only makes the words matter more. But then he realizes by saying that, Theo implies himself to be evil, because the doctors did take him. And that, Liam works quickly to counteract. “Not to insult you or anything, but I personally believe they took you because they thought you were, like, an easy target, or something.”
“‘Scuse me?”
“Theo, you had asthma. And you were eight. And Stiles said you used to be really shy, and I can attest to that, because now that you’re away from the doctors, you’re really shy. So evil-schmevil, I think you were just weak and easy to manipulate.”
“Thanks.”
“You are welcome.”
He’s quiet for a moment. “I was smart, though. I skipped third grade, and Stiles used to be so jealous, and I tutored Tara in her classes when she didn’t understand.”
“You skipped a grade?”
“Yup.”
Liam lets out a short, nervous laugh as he tries to hide how impressed he actually is. “Was Tara smart?”
He nods, almost shyly. "She was better in some subjects than others, but she was always very pretty.”
The younger boy’s heart melts at the way he talks about her. “What was she like, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“She was very bubbly. Always laughing, even if the joke didn’t make any sense. Even if there was no joke. Her hair was soft, and I used to play with it sometimes. She would freak out if she saw, like, a beetle, or a spider, or some other kind of bug, yet would go out to the woods and find stray cats that were crawling with fleas and ticks, and hold them close to her, begging to keep them.”
Liam giggles. “Did you keep them?”
“No. Dad always said no. He made her take them back to the woods.”
“Rude.”
“Scott had a dog when he was a kid, so one time I told him about Tara’s little cat colony, and he helped her bring them all to the vet to get baths and get them off the street. It was like an underground operation, because dad couldn’t know, and—oh my god—the amount of times Tara would be hiding cats in her sweater or in little baskets, before Scott’s mom started giving her rides to the vet, was atrocious.”
“Did you help?”
Theo looks put out for a moment. “Yeah,” he finally admits. “But only because I loved Tara and had a crush on Scott.”
“Wait, what?!”
He puts both hands up in an uncharacteristic shrug. A smile creeps onto his face. Liam thinks being upside down is rushing all the blood to his head, making him goofy.
“You. Had a crush. On Scott.”
“Yeah. Could you blame me? He probably apologized to his mom, too, for being born.”
His wording makes Liam snort, and it takes a second for him to realize another implication: Theo might have a crush on him.
“Did you apologize to your mom for being born?”
“No, I was nonverbal until I was three.”
“Oh.”
He laughs. “They thought something was wrong with me… Maybe I just didn’t want to talk to them because they were boring.”
Liam can’t help but laugh more. “What did you have to say when you finally began to talk?”
“I said ‘hi’ to my sister.” He smiles, but Liam can see the pain behind it. “And no, I never apologized to my mom. You and Scott were only-children; I had an older sister, so she already knew what she was in for. She didn’t have to be pregnant twice.”
“Maybe it was an accident.” Liam slaps his palm over his mouth as soon as the words leave his lips.
Theo looks up at him, beautiful green eyes making his heart stutter. “Thanks, Liam.”
“I didn’t mean it like that! I wasn’t— You— Pause. Okay. I wasn’t trying to say you were an accident, I just wondered maybe she didn’t mean to get pregnant the second time, but it just kind of happened.”
“That’s exactly what an accident is.”
“No! Theo! Work with me!” The chimera laughs, and Liam feels a sense of relief that he’s not upset over the unfortunate choice of words. “I mean, if you were an accident, I’m glad it happened, but, I don’t know, I doubt it would’ve been!”
A high-pitch sound reels off the end of his laugh; he’s laughing so hard, he’s wheezing and crying, and Liam’s never felt more embarrassed. It takes him a full minute to settle down. “For the record, I was not a mistake, but they regretted it the moment I was born.”
“Theo…”
“They had already made their perfect child. What’s the use of another? My dad wanted a boy so he could raise him to be just like him. He loved Tara, but she was the definition of a girly-girl, and he knew there was no way she’d do half the things he liked to do. But then I was born underweight and nonverbal, and as soon as I began to talk, I developed asthma. I was terrible at sports, and I was quiet, and clumsy, and gay, and he didn’t like any of it.”
“I bet you were cute, though.”
“Luckily, there’s no pictures to be able to make that call.”
“I bet Melissa has some.”
“Melissa probably burned them all when I killed her son.”
Their fun conversation takes a deep nose dive into treacherous waters, but Liam’s not about to let them dwell in the past. Not tonight. Not when he’s learned so much about Theo that he loves, not when he’s desperate to learn more.
He takes Theo’s hands—one is on his stomach, but the other is on Liam’s knee—and holds them in his own. He looks down at the boy, whose head landed in between his legs when he plopped down on his back earlier, and after a split second of Empty Brain, blows air directly in Theo’s face.
And the chimera, who could react in two very different ways, laughs. Actually, it’s more of a giggle, the way it vibrates in his chest as he tries to squirm away from Liam, kicking a leg into the air. Hands tightly held, he can’t go anywhere, so Liam watches him struggle until he finally stills.
“What did you do that for?” He asks, keeping a careful eye on Liam’s lips. Specifically, what shape they’re taking, and if it looks like he’s gathering more breath.
Liam drops his hands to cup them around Theo’s cheeks. His skin’s so unexpectedly soft, he never wants to move them. “My theory’s been proven.”
“What theory?”
“You had asthma, and were quiet and clumsy and nonverbal and gay. The doctors liked those traits, and that’s why they took you.”
“So your working theory really is that they kidnapped me because I’m weak?”
“They thought you were weak, but you proved them wrong. C’mon, you can’t tell me you helped your sister rescue a family of cats, and then try to go and tell me you’re evil. That doesn’t add up. Besides, being gay was probably a contributing factor, too.”
“What?”
“Didn’t the doctors, like, spend centuries trying to get the one guy’s lover back from the dead? The Surgeon was a guy, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And the Beast ended up being a guy.”
“Yeah.”
“So he was gay.”
“What’s this have to do with me being kidnapped as an eight year old child, Liam?”
“I don’t know,” he admits. Theo grunts. “But you never know…”
“Guess I won’t.”
Liam’s quiet for ten seconds. “And your dad can fuck off.”
“What?” Theo can’t help but laugh this time.
“So what, you’re gay? Big fucking deal. You’re like, really smart, and really strong. I can see your arms under this shirt.” He pokes his bicep for good measure. “And you drive this big-ass truck, and have this edgy look to match it. If your dad saw how you’ve grown up, he’d be like, ‘oh shit…’ and I’d tell him to fuck off to his face, because he doesn’t get to treat you like shit as a kid and then try to act like a dad later, when you’ve grown into a strong and masculine person, despite being gay, which doesn’t even matter anyway.”
Theo doesn’t know how to react to the strength and sincerity in his words, so he tries to joke instead. “Well, he’s dead, so unfortunately, the chance for that is slim.” It doesn’t quite land.
“I’d still like him to see you,” Liam counters. “I wanna shove it in his face.”
Theo rolls onto his stomach. He tugs at a loose string on Liam’s ripped jeans, right at the knee. “Full circle moment… I’d love to yell a big ‘fuck you’ to Brett for him having the nerve to attack you. There’s no fucking reason to hurt someone as kind as you. It had to have been jealousy, because—”
“I was shit at lacrosse before Dad taught me how to play properly.”
“If the doctors were still around, would you be mad if I offered him as a sacrifice?”
A smile quips at Liam’s lips. “Not mad, but… You could offer up my bio dad instead. No one would miss him.”
“What’d he do?”
“Beat me and my mom for nine years, then totally fled the state the moment the divorce was finalized.” Liam sees Theo’s jaw set with tension.
“Forget the doctors, I want to kill him myself.”
“If you do, I promise to not tell Scott.”
A glint of darkness shines in his eyes. A year ago, Liam used to fear that look. Now, it looks dangerously hot on him. If he were a little more brave, he’d do something about it.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“No. But I feel safer now.”
“How?”
“Seeing that reaction on you. You’re like a Rottweiler waiting for his command.”
Theo chooses to ignore that comparison. “You said you’d fight my dad. Well, I’d fight yours. I’ll fight anyone who lays a hand on you ever again.”
“That’s supposed to be my line. I’m the fighter here.” In a horrible Western, imitating voice, he continues, “this town ain’t big enough for the both of us.”
Theo stares at him for a second before bursting into laughter. Liam feels light—happier than he probably should be about making the boy laugh so hard. “That’s the worst accent I think I’ve ever heard.”
“Thank you.” He asks suddenly, “hey, did the doctors make you have to learn accents to blend in, or did you just sound like a California boy everywhere you went?”
“First of all, I don’t even have an accent. Second, no, because it was way easier to get people to comply when the ten year old already looking lost also doesn’t sound like he’s anywhere close to home.”
“Hm.”
“What do you mean, ‘hm’?”
“Nothing, it’s just… interesting to know.”
Theo stares at him, as if waiting for a more competent answer. His gaze lands on his lips, and he subconsciously licks his own.
“Y’know, lacrosse skills… or none the less… doesn’t have to be what made Brett jealous.”
“Back on Brett?”
“Yeah, I’m back on Brett,” he says shortly. Liam already knows he’s never going to let this go until he gets at least one lick in somewhere. Damaging his ego or his perfectly-shaped face, Theo doesn’t seem to care. “Maybe he was jealous that you have a really nice mom. Maybe it was grades. Maybe he was mad that he’s too tall to be in the Air Force, but you’re the perfect height.” Liam snorts. “Maybe he thought you were cute.”
“Struggling to see where a person’s reaction to alleged ‘cuteness’ would cause them to inflict blunt force trauma to another person’s body.”
“You’ve heard of ‘cuteness aggression’, maybe he just had a really bad case of it.”
“Theo…”
“I’m not excusing it. I’m not trying to justify it at all. I’m just grasping for straws here, trying to understand how the fuck he felt like that was an appropriate response to anything. And to continue picking on you after is sickening. I really wish you’d let me have just two minutes with the guy. C’mon, I was trained for this. No one will find the body.”
Liam cracks a smile. “His sister won’t be happy about that. And she’s actually pretty nice.”
“His sister’s happiness is the last thing I care about in this situation. Besides, I have pretty good odds against sisters, I’d like to see her try.”
He sucks his lips in, stopping the smile that was starting to form. Liam swears he’s never seen anyone use humor as a coping mechanism more than Theo.
“Yeah… No…” He blurts out, “are you even certain you killed her and not the doctors?”
He’s quiet for a moment. “No. I don’t remember a lot from that night, actually.”
“Then I have another theory…” Liam’s met with an unsure look. “I don’t think you hurt her. You loved her, and you’re smarter than you give yourself credit for sometimes. I think the doctors did it and altered your memory.”
“That’s a pretty certain conviction you’ve got there.” He’s quiet, and Liam’s beginning to learn that his thousand yard stare is a pondering for more deeper questions. “Do you think my parents would’ve thought I killed her, when she was found and I was gone?”
Liam blinks. It’s pretty unconventional for Theo to be asking him about what his parents might’ve thought, but then Liam realizes his question isn’t too far out of the water; plenty of times, he’s been asked what others’ may think of a situation, and usually they’re looking for comfort, or honesty, or a mix of both. Theo asking only stuns him, because it’s such a domestic kind of question—something in which he has almost no experience.
“Do you think my mom’s mad at me?” Mason famously asks. “Do you think she overheard our conversation? Do you think Corey’s mom is gonna care if I ask him to the movies?”
And even Liam’s own mom does it. “Do you think my parents would mind if we found an excuse not to go to dinner with them? Do you think she’d know if it was an excuse, or take my word for it?”
“I don’t know!” Liam always wants to shout. “How should I know what they’re thinking?”
But in the same vein, Liam knows he asks his own fair share of uncertain questions, and all anyone can ever do is guess, based on the people, the concern, how much detail he has, and how much truth they want.
So when Theo asks, well, Liam knows next-to-nothing about his parents, but he does know Theo, and knows he’s probably searching for equal comfort and honesty because he’s a realist, but he’s also so much more delicate than Liam could’ve ever imagined him to be. And it’s for that reason that Liam gives him a soft smile before an honest answer.
“Theo, I’ve gotta remind you, you were eight. Stiles told me it was one of the coldest days of the year, and despite the injury, the official ruling on her cause of death was hypothermia. I mean, I’d assume they’d believe foul play was involved, but I don’t think they’d assume it was you. You had been playing in the woods together; they probably think some creep hurt her and stole you. Did you live in a safe part of town?”
“Not necessarily. I mean, we weren’t in a bad part, but our parents had that seventies mindset that kids should play outside all day instead of staying indoors. If we weren’t in the woods, we used to go to the rail station.” Theo rolls onto his back again. Liam wonders, knowing how centered and stable he usually is, if he’s feeling more antsy or comfortable tonight, to be adjusting himself so much over the thick comforter.
“Well that just proves my point. You probably attracted a creep at some point. They’re everywhere, even where you least expect it. Mom told me… Once she let Mark watch me, because he was mad that it seemed she was watching me twenty-four, seven and never trusted him enough to take her eyes off me. So she gave him the benefit of the doubt and let him, and he took me to the store, and in the few minutes he walked away, some creep tried to lead me to his car. Luckily, there was another mom in the parking lot and she intervened.”
“Jesus, Liam.”
“He would’ve never mentioned it to her, but it made the news because this incident was the one that finally got him caught. He’d been around, trying it with several kids.”
“How old were you?”
“Like four.”
“Mark is your biological dad?”
“Yeah.”
“Great, I got a full name now.”
Liam can’t fight his smile. “But to answer your question, no, I don’t think your parents would think you did it. Would they blame you for her death? Probably. You were out in the woods at night, and she was the one they found dead. But would they assume you killed her? Not likely, based on how you were describing yourself and your relationship with your parents.”
Theo nods. “I know they’re dead and it doesn’t matter… But it always bothered me.”
Bothered. Past tense, as if it’s been haunting him for years, but Liam’s finally given him peace.
“You have a right to care about what they think of you. It’s not wrong for you to want them to be proud of you, even if they’re not present in your life.”
“Ouch.”
“Sorry. Hit you right in the daddy issues.” Theo lets out an amused snort. “Mason used to do it to me all the time.”
“What are his parents like? With him being gay and everything?”
“They don’t mind. They’re both great. Pretty sure Corey stays over almost every night because his parents are shit.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that about Corey.”
“This is not the most appropriate context to bring this up, and I apologize, but I find it funny how, like, all you chimeras and your maker, are gay.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
“Well, we already covered The Surgeon. And you. Corey. Mason, if he counts.”
“Sure, but—”
“Hayden’s a lesbian.”
“What?!”
“Remember Gwen? On the lacrosse team?”
“No.”
“They’re dating.”
“How’d you find that out?”
“She called to tell me the other day.”
Theo rolls onto his side and bends his elbow to hold up his head. Liam’s been watching every time he moves, but as his bicep bulges visibly with the new position, he has to tear his gaze away quickly.
Speaking of which… “And Josh—” He continues, just for Theo to interrupt.
“Josh was not gay.”
“Josh had a thing for you,” he counters.
“He did not.”
“I saw it once. And first of all, you were crazy back then, but he followed you blindly. No one does that unless they’re driven to make stupid decisions by a crush.”
“That’s arguable.”
“Second, I high-key remember this time he came out of Sinema and you were there with your truck, and he got super excited.”
“He was chomping on electricity in Sinema, I’m pretty sure he was high off it or something.”
“Well, I’d like to disagree, and so would Corey, who could sense it, too.”
“Sure, Liam.”
“Now, finally… Tracy—”
“Tracy was definitely straight.”
“Definitely not—”
“Definitely,” Theo argues again.
“Theo, I swear she had the vibe. She—”
“Well your vibe is off. And my proof is that she kissed me.”
“My vibe is never— wait what?!”
Theo laughs and doesn’t elaborate. Liam, bewildered, switches from sitting on his butt to his knees, legs tucked beneath him. He stays there for about two seconds, then readjusts back and criss-crosses his legs instead. Theo watches, then sits up with him into the same position.
“What do you mean she kissed you?!”
“She did. We kind of made out, actually.”
“WHAT?!”
“Shhh! Liam, it’s like one in the morning!”
“Oh, sorry. What?!” He says quieter, tone the same. “You kissed her back?”
“It was kind of the heat of the moment.” He pauses for a beat. “Okay, you already mentioned how I was kind of mean back then.”
“Yeah?”
“She had kissing intentions, I had power-stealing intentions.”
“Oh. So you kissed her to catch her off guard, so you could kill her?”
His eye twitches. “Yeah.”
“Do you regret it?” Liam asks, seeing remorse heavy in his face.
“I regretted it the moment it happened. Deucalion popping up right after to make a comment did not help.”
“Why’d you regret it?”
Theo squints his eyes at the question. “Because she was loyal and died for it. She was just as scared as everyone else but did her best to hide it. In some ways, she even reminded me of my sister. A lot, actually. To be honest, I was kind of caught off guard, too, because it started out like a normal kiss, but then she straddled me—”
“She what?!” Liam’s gaze drops instantly to his lap before he can snap them back up. He swallows hard at that wonderful, involuntary movement his body decided to make.
“—and was rocking her hips into me.”
“Wha—?!”
“—So I ended it a lot faster than I intended to, because I mean… Like, I’m sorry I gave you the wrong impression, but one, I’m gay; two, I kind of see you like a sister, so…”
Liam’s heart is racing an audible mile a minute. “She— Did—” Both questions die in his throat.
Theo cocks his head. “What, are you jealous?”
“No! I’m not j— I’m just— I couldn’t see her doing something like that. It’s so unlike her!”
“Did you know her?”
“No, but… When did this even happen?”
“After the Beast evolved, and started attacking everyone. I was standing too close. It scratched me, but she brought me back to the theater. Then I repaid her loyalty by killing her.” Quieter, he adds, “then I got sent to Hell, which made her already unnecessary death even more pointless. She should’ve survived and escaped both me and the doctors.”
Liam swallows hard. “Did she fight?”
“Yeah.”
He says it so quietly, Liam barely hears it. He smells of so much sadness, the boy doesn’t even know how to respond. For a split second, he considers blowing in Theo’s face again, but quickly pushes that thought away, knowing it wouldn’t be appropriate for the situation. Instead, he blinks a few times as they sit in silence. Liam’s eyes fall down to the comforter, but catch on Theo’s hands, clasped neatly together in front of him. Despite this knowledge and his past, he can’t see those hands being used to cause hurt anymore.
Slowly, he reaches forward to tangle his fingers into Theo’s own. He lets him, but doesn’t look up—stares at the comforter instead.
“Theo… That might be your past, but I know you’re not that person anymore.”
“Don’t make excuses for me just because—”
“I’m not making excuses,” he interrupts. Pauses. “Ruminating on the past isn’t going to change anything; you can’t undo what’s already been done, so at this point, you’re only hurting yourself. And with thoughts like these, you’re hurting yourself over and over and over again, when you’ve already paid more than a great deal of pain for it. You need to forgive yourself, and let others forgive you, too.”
Theo waits a moment before responding. “Who says anyone’s trying to forgive me?”
“Me. I already have, but I know a lot of people are getting there, too. Corey already has. Mason’s working on it. Alec and Nolan both look up to you—each for their own reasons—more than you even know. I even know some of the older pack has, or is, too.”
“Yeah, but—”
“You want to know who else also has?”
The chimera finally glances up, eyebrows knitted in nervous curiosity. “Who?”
“Hayden.”
His curiosity turns to confusion. “Why would Hayden do that? Why would she even care?”
“Because of me.” Liam looks down at their hands, still clasped together. He runs his thumb up the side of Theo’s pointer finger and hears his breath hitch in his throat. “When she called me, to tell me about her and Gwen… We kinda ended up talking about you. You were, actually, an instrumental part in her realizing she’s a lesbian.”
“Elaborate.”
A sneaky, all-too-happy, smile creeps onto the younger boy’s face.
“I never kissed her,” Theo starts, anxiously, when he takes too long to respond.
“I know. But I did.”
“Yeah. We’re all well aware of that; Mr. PDA in the school lunchyard all the t—”
“Shut up. She was my first girlfriend! And my first, like, in general.”
“Oh.” His eyes widen, not expecting to be suddenly told that intimate detail.
“Shut up,” Liam repeats. “I—”
“Please don’t tell me I have something to do with your first time.”
“You do.”
“Fucksake.”
The boy laughs. “It’s not bad.”
“I don’t see anywhere good that this conversation could be going.”
“Maybe if you’d shut up and let me explain, I could tell you!” Liam’s seriously considering slapping his palm over his mouth just to silence him for the moment. Just long enough to get this double-confession out of the way. “Okay. We—”
“Are you about to say you were so bad in sex that it made her realize she was a lesbian?”
“Theo!” He whines, absolutely exasperated. “No!” He watches as Theo unlinks their hands to roll down onto his back again. This time, though, his head is beside Liam’s knee, and when he finishes nestling into the comforter, Liam grabs his hands a second time.
“Okay. Sorry. I’ll stop interrupting.”
Liam rolls his eyes. He adjusts a little to the right just to see him better. “She never said I was bad, she just said doing it with me made her realize she didn’t feel that way towards guys in general. Like. She liked the concept, but would rather do it with different parts involved.”
“Were those her words or yours?” Theo asks, hiding his face to muffle a laugh.
“I’m summarizing hers! Don’t laugh at me! But basically, she said, ‘yeah, I like sex, but not with guys,’ and that it had nothing to do with me personally, I just helped her realize this.”
“Right. Why are we talking about this again?”
“Because… Oh! So she, like, also said that while our, y’know, first time together had nothing to do with the realization, she did mention that she felt okay with breaking up with me, because of something that happened right after it, which was then proceeded by, like, the Ghost Riders and everything.”
“You have… Officially lost me.”
“Wha—?”
“How did you just jump from your first sexual experience, to the near-immortal, faceless, demon-creatures that tried to wipe us all off the face of the earth?”
“Because, like, we brought you back in the midst of said-demon war, and she left after it was over, right before the hunters’ mess.”
“Still not following.”
“You helped me fight the Ghost Riders.”
“I’m aware of that. I’m not seeing how that connects to Hayden being a lesbian.”
“No, no… You’re confused.”
“I’m confused?!”
“Hayden hadn’t told me yet, but she had the realization that she likes girls, but she didn’t want to break up with me, because she said she didn’t want to hurt me, but then, you helped me fight the Ghost Riders, and she had her second realization of, ‘yeah, okay, he should be fine if I leave,’ and plus her sister wanted to leave anyway, so it was good that, um, that you stayed.”
He’s still not getting it, Liam’s gonna have to say it. (His explanation makes no sense.)
“I literally didn’t think anything of it until she brought it up over the phone, when she came out to me, but right after our first time, I guess I brought you up in conversation over whatever was happening at the time. She said it was, like, as she was still putting her shirt back on, but I don’t think it was that soon, I don’t remember. But she kept this in the back of her mind. Weeks went on, one supernatural fight ended, another began. Her sister started making plans for them to move, so on top of wanting to break up, now she had to, but still didn’t know how to do it.”
“Ouch.”
“It’s fine! I mean, it was kind of uncomfortable to hear, but I don’t hold it against her. It’s her sexuality, and I want her to do what makes her happy. She shouldn’t be in an unfulfilling relationship just because I loved her. I actually prefer being friends now anyway, and we are, so it’s all good.” He rambles. Theo just blinks. “But anyway. We didn’t know how to fight the Ghost Riders, needed something supernaturally stronger, brought you back—turns out you weren’t supernaturally stronger… Kept you around anyways. And Hayden, at first, was concerned, so she kept a close eye—because she knew what she knew—but to her pleasant surprise, you ended up helping, and actually kept me safe a couple of times, and then by the time she needed to leave, you ended up staying, and she felt better about this, because she’d again, been observing. So when she needed to break up with me and leave town, she wasn’t worried—she was confident in doing it, because she was confident I was going to be okay.”
Theo stares at him.
“What?”
“I am so sorry, but I still have no idea what you’re trying to say.”
“Oh my god, Theo! Catch up!”
“Talk slower!”
“Listen better!”
“Use less filler words! I can’t keep up with your undiagnosed ADHD.”
“Fuck you. And my ADHD is diagnosed, it’s just unmedicated.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I thought you were an atheist. Shouldn't you be saying something like, 'oh shit' or 'goddamn'…” He draws out the 'n' once he realizes his mistake.
Luckily, Theo ignores it. “If it’s really so important, can you please be more clear with what you are trying to say?”
“It is important! I just— Okay. Wait, are you mad at me?”
“What?”
“Are you mad at me? Because I’m struggling to understand your tone of voice, like, when I was a kid, my mom had to use very clear diction to communicate, because I can’t read people very well, and I don’t want to frustrate you.”
Theo rolls onto his stomach, any small bit of frustration he does have dissipates like smoke. “No, Li, I’m not mad… I’m just trying to understand what you’re saying. I’m listening, but you’re kind of rambling, so it’s not super clear.” He dances a finger on the top of Liam’s thigh, making him fight to control his heart rate.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Are you nervous?”
“What? No. I’m not nervous.” He blinks. “I mean, I’m a little nervous.”
“Am I making you nervous?”
“No! At least not in the way you might be thinking.”
“Okay…”
“So… My original point, sometime ago, was that Hayden’s A.) forgiven you, and B.) a lesbian.”
“Right.”
“And you were curious to know how those connected, plus how you were involved in our, uh, first time.”
“I believe that’s correct. Recall that’s where the conversation was going.”
Yeah, so, um… Less words. Brutal honesty.”
“I don’t know if we have to be brutal about it.”
Liam either ignores or doesn’t hear him. “I started talking about you right after we’d slept together, and this was something Hayden noted and pocketed in the back of her mind. Obviously unbeknownst to me. She wanted to break up and just be friends, but didn’t want to hurt me. But then the Ghost Riders came, and we brought you back to help us fight them. Hayden, then, untucked her little note from its ‘Liam’ binder in her brain, and kept an eye on you. Watched how you were with me, saw how you protected me. When it was time for her to leave, she was comforted by the fact that you had seemed to change, and that you stuck around town.”
He switches gears without warning. “It’s funny, because the doctors took me, but not for a test subject; they just wanted my blood. But, I was still taken by the doctors for a short time—the already-established gay doctors.”
“Going off topic again, Liam.”
“No, it’s relevant. Ish. Please correct me if I’m wrong—If I’m misinterpreting this… You had a crush on Scott, said something about him apologizing to his Mom after being born. You said the same thing about me—the apologizing thing.” He watches Theo swallow hard, puzzle pieces connecting in both their minds. “Am I mistaken, if I find a connection there?”
“I— I don’t— Li—” He withdraws his hand from Liam’s thigh, shying away quickly.
Liam grabs it, holds on tight, but gently, still. “Back to Hayden. Nothing against her, because I did love her, but the first thing I thought of after we’d slept together for the first time, is whatever you were up to. And I didn’t notice that, but she did. She then noticed the trust I placed in you, and the loyalty you gave me, and when it was time for her to break up with me and leave town, she wasn’t worried for me, because she knew I’d be safe with you around, because she could see the change in you, and she could see clearly that I still liked you. Those were her words: I would be safe with you.”
“Liam—”
“Not only has she forgiven you, but she trusts you with my life. She said she told Scott that, too, before she left. And he was hesitant, at first, but then he started to see it, too. That's why he felt confident asking you to help me at the hospital. That's why he merely nodded when I told him you were living with us now."
His heart beats fast. He waits, but Theo's quiet. His heart pounds in Liam's ears, making his mouth feel dry. He lets go of the other boy's hands and recoils into himself. Fear and shame make a nauseating combination.
"I, um," he starts, awkwardly, "I shouldn't have said anything. I'm sorry, I just ruined everything. I—"
"Liam, stop," Theo finally says, reaching out as he tries to squirm away. He successfully grabs an ankle and grips it hard.
"Ow—"
"Give me a minute before you crawl out of here. I'm just—"
"If you don't feel the same, it's okay," he says quickly. "I don't want to lose you as a friend, so I'm totally good with letting this go, pretending it never happened. We can just get back to whatever we were talking about before, which was— uh— I don't remem—"
"Stop. Just wait. I'm trying to— It's a lot, okay?"
"I just assumed… Because you said you were gay, it would be okay if I said…" He swallows. "I didn't think it'd be, y'know, outrageous for me to admit it… If you hadn't said anything, I wouldn't have said anything… And I didn't say it because of what you said, I just felt more comfortable because you seem comfortable with it, but it's something I'm still understanding… And Hayden, she uh, told me not to overthink it—that it was fine, you can like whoever you like—but feeling things for you and confessing them are two totally different things, so—"
"Liam, what the hell are you talking about?"
"When Hayden came out to me, she pretty much outted me to myself, but it made me realize she was right—I do like you—but while she was totally unsurprised and unbothered, it gave me, like, whiplash, because I've never considered what I've always felt for you is attraction. Then you said you were gay, and I was like, 'oh, okay, well if you can admit it, maybe I can, too'." He frowns. "But if I knew it would make you uncomfortable, I would've never said anything, I swear. I care too much about you to want to hurt you, or to lose your friendship, y'know?"
Theo loosens his grip on his ankle but still rests his hand on his leg. "Liam, I'm not uncomfortable with you being— feeling— liking me. If you would give me two minutes without rambling out of nervousness, you'd come to know much more easily that I like you, too. But it caught me off guard and I had to process what you said."
"Oh." His cheeks blush red with embarassment. "But then why… You totally froze like it freaked you out, so of course I freaked out."
"I'm not used to stuff like that, Li. Growing up with the doctors, people my age either dislike me or they're afraid of me. I mean… I received attraction, but it was all superficial or short-lived; usually by the time they got to know me, it wore off, so to just have you as a friend is surprising enough to me, let alone that you're also attracted to me. But even crazier than that is what you said about Hayden—how she trusts me with your life… Liam, that's a lot. I've taken lives. I don't get trusted with them, because if I don't end them myself, they get taken anyway."
He nods, understanding, finally, where it went wrong—where he misinterpreted. "Maybe in the past… Maybe with the doctors. But you're not that person anymore without them." His lip trembles. "Look, I know Hayden would've never left if she felt I was unsafe with you. She would've begged her sister to stay, or convinced someone to drive you out, anything. But she didn't." Liam thinks about his other comment, about attraction. He's not sure Theo meant to let that slip. Swallowing hard, he continues, touching it briefly. "And I think it's less that people are afraid of you and more that they're intimidated. Anyone who thinks they got to know you clearly didn't take the time to know you well, because I like to think I know you well, and what I feel has only grown—not worn off—because of that."
Theo wets his lips, eyes a bit glossy. Liam decides to change the subject, temporarily moving away from whatever happened in his past that he's clearly not ready to tackle.
"All that aside, I like you, Theo. And if you don't recall, you saved my life multiple times—of course I trust you with it." He smiles cheekily, hoping his next comment lightens the mood. "Look, plain and simple… I lost my virginity, and the first thing I thought of was you."
Spoken out loud, so boldly, Theo can't help but laugh. He buries his face in the comforter so all Liam can see is his body shaking. He hears the quiet sound of muffled giggles, higher in pitch than expected, emitting from the boy who still has a hand on his ankle.
"It took Hayden so long to get through that confession because she couldn't stop laughing, either."
That, of course, doesn't help his case. Theo laughs even more, until his stomach hurts and his lungs feel weak. He forces himself to stop and take a deep breath, lift his face from the blanket stifling him, but has to bite his cheek at the sight of Liam's flushed face.
"She thinks it's hilarious that my two crushes are both people that've punched me in the face. Says I have a type: people who pick on me."
Theo snorts. "As if you don't pick on them first."
"That's not true! You definitely picked on me first, and so did she, because despite the sixth grade incident, she's the one that started shit with me in high school!"
"Okay, you little kinkster. Keep telling yourself that."
If his cheeks could possibly get any redder, they do now. "I'm not a— ahh!"
Halfway through his defense, Theo pulls at his legs, sending Liam cascading down his pillow-burdened headrest and flat onto the comforter. Before he can even react, the chimera's straddling him, thighs rubbing on his hips and hands beside his shoulders. Liam's heart beats quickly with nervous anticipation. He reaches out and grabs a fistful of Theo's shirt, but fights the urge to pull him down to his lips.
"You tried to make a joke, didn't you? Saying the doctors only took you for your blood, not for experimentation, because you were bi and not gay."
"Yes," Liam confirms, still staring shamelessly at his lips.
"You're such a dork."
"I like making you laugh." He grips tighter onto the fabric between his fingers.
Theo stares at him with a glimmer in his eyes that renders the younger boy almost speechless.
Almost.
"Kiss me," he mutters. Quietly—too quietly—as he struggles to catch his breath. Theo reads it from his lips more than he hears it. He hesitates.
Liam reaches a hand up to his face, cupping his jaw. He strokes his thumb along his skin, then trails his pinky finger down his lips. His trust and unwavering confidence make Theo's heart stutter. His skin tingles wherever his fingers touch. Liam swallows, then slides his hand around to the back of his neck. He teases the nape gently and Theo's lips part involuntarily.
"It's okay," Liam says softly, reading the uncertainty in his gaze. "I want you."
He stays patient despite the excitement coursing through his body. Theo takes it slow, but finally touches their lips together. He relaxes, tension leaving his shoulders beneath Liam's hands, as any fear of rejection dissipates. He kisses gently, then lets Liam deepen it with more confidence; lets him capture him and takes his breath away, runs his tongue along his lower lip and smiles against his skin. Liam reaches his hand from his neck up into his scalp and scratches slightly. The unexpected sensation pulls a low moan out of Theo, and Liam jolts, feeling it in his stomach immediately. He gasps, breaking off the kiss, and opens his eyes.
Theo, looking embarrassed, starts to pull back. "I'm sor—"
"Don't be," Liam interrupts. He bounces his eyes back and forth from his flustered expression to his swollen and spit-slicked lips. Desperately, he wants to be on top. In control. Dominant—not to own Theo in any kind of way, but instead to prove how much he wants him; to be in the position that gives him the decision to move, and to choose not to.
He pushes himself up on his elbows. When the motion taps his hips into Theo's, the older boy climbs off him. While that wasn't his intention, Liam can sense his embarrassment and sits criss-cross again. He licks his lips when Theo glances at him, and the skip in his heart is audible.
"I told you I'm attracted to you, right?"
A smile teases at the edge of Theo's lips, but he doesn't respond.
"Yeah, well… It's not superficial or short-lived, it's been nagging at me for quite a while now, and every time I get to know you a little bit better, it only grows. When I say I like you, I literally mean, I like you… Like, you as a person; who you are and how you think… What you've been through and how you continue on despite it."
He visibly swallows—nervous, but not exactly in a bad way. Anticipating where Liam's going with this, most likely.
"And…" Liam feels his face heating up. He forces himself to say it out loud anyway.
It's the truth, even if it comes out cringeworthy.
"…I'm also attracted in the sense that I'm, like, aroused by you… 'Boiling it down' to just saying you're hot sounds really shallow to me when in reality, I think you're so goddamn goregeous that sometimes I can't think straight because of it. 'Nd when I pulled back a moment ago, I didn't mean to… I've been wanting to kiss you forever, and finally doing so got me really worked up…" He cringes at his wording, closes his eyes as if it'll help him poof out of existence. "I sound like a teenage boy, oh god…"
To his unknowing, Theo's smiling now. "You are a teenage boy."
Liam opens one eye. "I know."
"I don't know if I've made this clear enough, but I'm attracted to you, too." He inches towards Liam's side. "And I've definitely been aroused once or twice—" his playful expression reads more like three, or four, or more times, "—by you… And it feels so good, the way you touch me, but I surprised myself, and was afraid you wouldn't like it."
Theo settles himself into the spot beside Liam, laying the same way he was when Theo climbed on top of him. It takes Liam a second to process it, then recognizes his posture as an invitation. Cautiously, he crawls over his lap and hears a hitch in his throat as Liam pins down his hips.
"I liked it," Liam corrects, leaning in closer. He reaches his hands back under Theo's neck, fingertips at the base of his skull. "Can I?"
"Yes."
He kisses him, passionately—locks in his lower lip and sucks softly, teases teeth on tongue, just for a second. Theo lets out a choked moan at the new sensation. His hands search for grounding and find it along Liam's sides, the skin bare from his t-shirt hanging down in between them. At his touch, Liam jolts, gasps, again. He presses a kiss to the side of Theo's mouth, drawing out a deep breath.
For a second, Liam pauses. He watches Theo long enough to see his chest rise and fall, and his eyelashes flutter down with it. His arousal stirs within him again; he has a boy beneath him, and he's beautiful, and he likes him, and he knows it.
He leaves a kiss on his jaw.
"You okay?"
"Yeah." At his silence, Theo looks up. "What?"
"Nothing, I'm just thinking of the best way to pull that sound out of you again…"
"Oh no…" Theo immediately shrinks in on himself, scrunching his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He tries to cover his face with his hands, but Liam grabs his wrists before he can and laughs.
"Shut up, it was hot!"
"No…! Just because you like it, I'm not gonna do it anymore."
Liam snorts. "Yeah, good luck. The more I find out what you like, the harder of a time you'll have keeping things from me."
Before either can respond, the implication of that hits them both. Liam sets his wrists down onto his stomach and forces himself to breathe.
"If you'd want that, of course… I'm not gonna make you do anything you don't want to, or may not be comfortable with… If this is a one-time thing brought on by sleep-deprivation and an unwillingness to go to bed at a decent hour, I totally understand, and I can adjust to that."
And Theo just laughs.
It's so annoying, Liam wants to kiss it off him. He waits, begging any higher power to give him patience.
"You overthink," Theo finally says.
"Wait, what?"
"You don't even give me a second to reply to shit, and instead work yourself all up rambling out a response to my lack of response that was only lacking due to your overthinking."
"Can you say that slower?"
"Why do you think I wouldn't want to be with you after you sat here and told me you liked me and I said it back? Why do you think—living in your house, not to mention—I would accept and return confessions of being attracted and aroused to each other if I didn't think it would mean anything?"
"I don't know…"
"Liam, I don't know how your parents will take it, but I do like you, and if you want more, I'd like it, too. I just…"
"Just what?"
"Can I ask something insensitive that's totally your parents' business and not really mine?"
"Sure?"
Theo's voice drops to a whisper. "If we were to actually, like, date, or something… Would they kick me out?" He watches narrowed eyes widen fully. "I totally understand if they would… I mean, I'm technically not even supposed to be in your room right now. If I can't listen to that, how would I be expected to listen if we're actually d—"
In a cheesy, mocking voice, Liam interrupts, "oh my god, you overthink!"
Theo stops on a dime, rendered speechless.
"They would not kick you out over that, omg! And I'm the reason you're in my room this late; you listen to everything my mom asks of you, it's me that bends her rules. God! I never pictured you a goody-two-shoes!"
"'Scuse me?! Liam—"
"My mom loves you; she'd sooner kick me out than you."
"That's not true."
"Here are the facts… If we date, she will act surprised. That would be a fake reaction."
"Why?"
Liam ignores him. "If we date, yes, she will act more strict about her bedroom rules. This, however, will just be a ploy, because she doesn't really care, as long as we get to sleep at a reasonable hour."
"Which we're not doing currently…"
"If we date, no, she would not kick you out, because she loves you, and she cares about you as a person and does not want you to be alone and abandoned on the streets again trying to survive when you're not even twenty yet! If she had a problem with it—and that's a very big if—then we would just have to be very lowkey about it, and maybe a little sneaky, and as long as we listen to her rules, she'd eventually warm up to it. As for dad, he does not care either about me dating a boy—he loves you, too, and he will be very glad, I bet, to not have to worry about possible teen pregnancy!"
"Oookayy," Theo says quickly. When Liam smiles at him, he furrows his eyebrows. "You've thought about this."
"When mom agreed to asking you to stay here, I begged her not to make any inclination towards you that I had a crush on you. I didn't even tell her, she figured it out on her own."
"Like she figured the werewolf stuff out on her own?" When Liam nods sheepishly, he adds, "you're not very good at keeping secrets."
He ignores that. "If it makes you uncomfortable to tell them, we don't have to, but I promise, they won't kick you out over it. Honestly, mom will be glad she won't have to keep my secret anymore."
Theo snorts. After a moment, he nods. "I trust you."
"If for some reason, they say no, we'll have to do an exorcism, because those are not my parents."
"Okay," he says, chuckling. "I get your point."
Liam smiles. He picks Theo's wrists back up and kisses the pulse point on each one. Theo's mouth falls open at the subtle, yet intimate display. His heartbeat quickens.
"Liam?"
"Yeah?"
"If your— If Mark found out you liked a boy… What do you think he would do?"
Liam visibly swallows. In Theo's defense, he's never asked about his bio-dad until today, so he can't blame him for being curious. He also can't blame him for being fearful, knowing his own dad was hateful towards him for such a thing. Still, just thinking about how Mark would react sends a shiver down his spine.
"If David wasn't around to stop him… He'd hit me. But regardless of him there or not, he'd still yell, cuss, spit… And the minute he wouldn't be there…" Liam shrugs, but he doesn't have to finish his sentence for Theo to know what he'd say.
"I'm sorry for asking."
"It's okay. You have the right to know."
He's quiet for a minute. Then, quickly, "my dad had a gun."
Liam's heart stops for a second. His eyes widen.
"He owned it legally, but I know he wouldn't hesitate if I ever…"
Almost inaudibly… "Did he know you had a crush on Scott?"
"Yes."
There's silence for a full minute.
"If you've ever wondered how I ended up with the doctors… It's because my dad was worse."
In all honesty, Liam did wonder. It kept him up, years ago, how a kid like him chose loyalty to them despite everything they did and were. Now, he starts to understand that 'how'.
Wordlessly, Liam picks up his wrists and kisses his pulse points for a second time. His heart slows to a steady beat beneath his lips and some of the fear leaves his eyes.
"Theo… David's the person that made me feel safe again after nine straight years of Mark's abuse. I mean, I love my mom, but he hurt her, too, and we both needed to heal. But I want you to know you can trust him, and he's a good person, and he cares about you. He loves Mason and doesn't bat an eye that he's gay, nor Corey, and to be honest, I'm pretty sure he actually dated a guy in college for a couple months. Oh, and his sister's a lesbian—I met her a few times, she's cool." Theo cracks a smile. "As someone who understands what it's like to be terrified of your own dad, I want you to know that not all dads—not all men—are like that. Some really do love and protect like they're supposed to."
Liam pauses and lets that sink in for a minute. He turns Theo's hand around, palm up, and traces the lines with the pad of his finger. "My mom used to trace the 'heart' and 'life' lines on my hand to soothe me whenever we were scared. Neither of us know how to palm read, but it's still comforting… She used to say ''your life' and 'your heart' is in the palm of 'your' hand, not his'… He wasn't in control of me and he didn't own me. The same is true for you, regardless if he's missing, or dead, or whatever. I know he still takes up space in your mind; I know he still hurts you through memory. But I also want you to know he can't physically hurt you anymore… And on days that feel particularly worse, you have people who are here for you." Softly, Liam adds, "that goes for the doctors, too. They can't hurt you anymore, either."
Theo's quiet for five heartbeats—Liam counts—then he leans in towards Liam, hooks a finger under his chin, and kisses him softly. "Thank you."
After a deep breath, the older boy lays down in Liam's bed, back against the pillows and legs stretched out in front of him. It's nothing out of the ordinary; he's slept in this room more times than either can count, even before he technically moved in.
But while Liam usually takes the space, and the pillow, beside him, he does something different now. This time, he lays close to Theo, chest up against his shoulder, and head near the curve of his neck. He presses a kiss to his shoulder and nestles into his side.
"This okay?"
"Mhm."
"Cool."
"What time is it?"
Liam glances over at his clock. "Four forty-six."
"Your mom's gonna kill us."
"Tomorrow's a Saturday."
"Yeah, but you're not gonna wake up and she'll know why."
"Hmm… Throw a bucket of water over me and say I was in the shower."
Theo snorts. "Really?"
"Absolutely not."
He laughs harder, and Liam joins him.
When their excitement dies down, Liam lets out a relaxed exhale and fumbles for the comforter bunched up around them. Theo adjusts slightly so he can grab it, then helps him pull it up to their shoulders so they can finally sleep. He pulls the string to the lamp beside him and darkness fills the room.
"Goodn—"
"Y'know," Liam starts again, snuggling close until he finds a comfortable spot. "I truly did think I only saw you as a friend until Hayden brought it up to me… Because she wondered out loud if the reason you tended to protect me could be based off attraction or feeling indebtted. And that—and don't laugh at me, but— that made my brain short-circuit, because I asked her which one she thought it was, and she turned it around on me, asking what I wanted it to be…"
"She gave you two theories and you asked her to pick which one she believed was most likely?"
"Basically, yeah. But she didn't answer my question."
Theo smiles. "What'd she say instead?"
"She asked me if I wanted it to be something more, but a platonic more, or something bigger, as in, well, attraction. When I still couldn't answer, she asked me how I felt when I'd wake up and you weren't there, and that is what made me realize it: I worried about you—where you could've gone, and if you never showed up, where you could be—and that I liked the way your scent would linger in my room afterwards. It's comforting, and makes me feel safe even when you're not around… Even though I wish you were always around me." He playfully crinkles his nose. "And that made her giggle, because she finally revealed she always secretly thought it was attraction. She said she likes to think she knows you well enough to assume you have no attraction to women whatsoever."
At that, Theo knows his face must be turning pink, and thank god Liam can't see it. "She said that?"
"Uh huh. Said it was obvious… To her. Gaydar, probably."
"What?"
"Omg, you're so out of touch." He pauses, then finally explains with a roll of his eyes. "Gaydar is being able to sense when other gays are near you. Haven't heard of that? No, because you haven't been around Mason long enough."
"In my defense, I'm still trying to gain his trust back. But before we get too far away—why would Hayden ask how you felt when you'd wake up and I'd be gone? Because that's a very fine detail that she'd only know if—"
"Oh, I told her. I mean… It just came out, but… She was asking if we still talk, and I blurted out that yeah, we do, and sometimes you sleep with me… But I corrected it quickly that you sleep in my bed, not literally with me."
"Got it. And she took that well?"
"She giggled. She giggled for most of the call, actually."
Theo finds himself unable to be upset, or even stressed, about that fact. Clearly, neither Hayden nor Liam are concerned about it, so why should he be?
"Oh, and by the way… Corey and Mason know, too."
"They do?"
"And Hayden knows that Corey and Mason know. And they know, because they visited one time after you'd been over, and Corey picked up your scent and didn't waste a minute pointing it out. Mason, at first, was worried about it, but I talked him through it."
"Right."
"On a good note, it might be easier to gain his trust back now… Since we're all on the same page."
"You sound certain."
"I am. And if he's still unsure, I'll put him on the phone with her on the other end of the line. They can duke it out that way. And then we can all hold hands and skip together."
Theo snorts.
"No, but I'm serious. Everything will be fine. My parents will be fine, our friends will be fine, and you and I, will be just fine, too." He leans toward Theo's cheek, but misses and kisses his neck instead. The older boy jumps slightly, laughs out of suprise. He covers his face with his hands even though Liam can't see anyway.
"Okay, that was cute."
"Shut up!"
He kisses his shoulder to settle him back down. "Goodnight, Theo."
"Goodnight, Li." He outstretches a hand around Liam's figure, resting his hand along his waist.
"I'm glad I finally admitted I like you… Even if we'll be sleep-deprived tomorrow."
He hears a gentle laugh from the boy beside him; feels a kiss to the top of his head. "I'm glad you did, too."
(If you're wondering, Jenna fell asleep right around the time Hayden was brought up, because Liam' had taken to a whisper and the small period of silence was enough to make her doze off. However, when Liam quite loudly mocked Theo's voice, she was briefly reawoken to hear bits of their conversation, before falling asleep once more. Despite knowing the bare minimum of their full talk, yes, she confronted them at breakfast about being in his room all night, but Liam folded under no pressure and admitted their entire conversation.
And yes, they're still supposed to sleep separately.
summary: the last time scott had gone bowling was at a birthday party... when he was eight...
word count: 996
tags: based off s01e03; childhood memories, trauma, blocked-out trauma, heartache, somewhat pre-canon
read on ao3
He said it in passing, not really for her information, so Melissa doesn't want to get too much into the small details of his date. But still, as soon as the word left his mouth, exclamation points of worry and concern go off in her head. She has to make sure she heard that right.
"Bowling? For your first date? Are you sure you're okay with that?"
Scott narrows his eyes, cocks his head in child-like confusion. "Yeah. I mean, I haven't in a long time, but I should be fine, right?"
"Right," his mom hesitantly agrees.
A pause.
"You don't think I should go."
"No! No, I'm not saying that at all! You should go on a date with her if you like her, she likes you, the next step is a first date, right?"
"…Yeah."
She nods. "Okay. Well, if you're feeling good about it, then great! Go have fun!"
"Then why'd you… Why'd you have that reaction?"
"I was just… surprised at the choice of location. Would've thought you'd go to the movies or taken her out for a casual dinner."
He grimaces. "It's not really my decision. Or hers. Lydia kinda made it into a double date."
"Oh."
"Exactly."
"And I kinda lied and said I was great at bowling, when you and I both know I suck."
Melissa clicks her tongue. "I see. Tight spot you're in there."
"Yeah." He sighs. Narrows his eyes again. "I still don't understand why it surprised you."
"What?"
"Going bowling."
"Oh. Well, y'know, I just thought…"
"Thought…?"
"Y'know, that you… were… still… y'know—"
"I don't know," he interrupts, recognizing her nervous stuttering as holding back her point. "That's why I'm asking."
"Hold your horses there, Scott. I'm trying to put this lightly."
"Just say it, Mom."
"Okay. Fine. I thought you were never going to bowl again." He squints, so she vaguely follows up with, "because of what happened."
"What happened when?"
Melissa hesitates. If he doesn't remember, she'd rather not refresh his memory. But, if she doesn't explain, he's going to hound her until she does. She heaves a deep sigh, looks at her sixteen year old son, and gives him a sad smile.
"When you were eight. The last time you bowled." Her heart hurts. "The last time you saw him."
"I don't—"
Then it hits him. The last time you saw him.
And suddenly, Scott is eight years old again. He's at the bowling alley with an olive green ball between his fingers, and he throws it terribly down the line, straight into the side. Everyone laughs, but everyone's equally bad, so there's no heat in it, just commiseration at their collective failure.
"You tried," Stiles offers, clapping anyway. He gives him a high-five when he passes. Then, before he sits, a second hand is held out for another high five. Scott accepts it, smiling at the boy looking up at him.
"Don't worry, we all suck," Theo tells him sympathetically.
"I don't!" Comes a boy's voice from the other side of the aisle.
"Yes, you do, Connor," Stiles quickly retorts.
The boy doesn't respond, and a snickering Stiles is met with laughter from both Scott and Theo. When Connor throws his ball, he hits two cones, but it's not impressive at all considering the teams on either side of them are hitting strikes with each round. One of the other teams are a group of older siblings who were dragged along by their parents, but couldn't participate in Joey's eighth birthday party. Amongst them is Theo's older sister, who knocks over nine cones seconds before Theo only hits two.
"She took all the talent," he whispers to Scott and Stiles. There's no malice in his tone — Theo adores his sister, everyone knows it — but he also can't help but be a little jealous of her sometimes.
Scott gives him a comforting pat on the shoulder. "You did better than me at least."
"Only because you slipped when you got on the track."
Which was true. Eight year old Scott did not have the best balance, but he was much more athletic than Theo was, who showed no interest in sports whatsoever. His strong suit was always academics, and Scott often found himself asking for help, especially in math.
"Maybe," Scott says shyly.
It earns a soft smile from Theo, cheeks tinted pink, how they always were when he'd talk to Scott. He returns the smile.
Truthfully, he didn't care about the game. He was just glad to be with his friends.
But a day later, everything changed. In the early morning of a cold December day, Tara was found dead and Theo had disappeared without a trace. For weeks into months, Scott sobbed, until his brain eventually blocked out Theo entirely, saving him from the horror of the unsolved mystery. They never figured out what happened to him, never saw him again. His parents don't even live in town anymore; they moved two weeks after the tragedy took place.
"You gonna be okay, Scott?" Melissa asks, hands clasped and knuckles against her lips. Worry apparent in her features.
His face falls. "We never found out what happened to him."
"No," she says sadly.
"I miss him."
"I know, buddy. I do, too."
She pulls him forward for a hug and gives him a kiss on the forehead.
"Tell you what… Go bowling with Allison. Make fun memories with her, and try not to think about the past, okay? You can't change it, and worrying about it's only going to make your heart hurt."
"I know…"
"Theo… You were a good friend to him in the time you guys had together. His home life was rough and he…" She chooses her words wisely, "…he needed help, but it was beyond our control. His parents… Made it hard to help him. But, I believe you made his life a lot better, a lot happier, than he would've been otherwise. Okay?"
summary: everyone knows kai survived the wedding, but they don't understand how he's survived being a heretic this long without being taught snatch, eat, erase. that is, until damon finally catches up with you and gets you to spill your secret.
word count: 903
tags: heretic!kai, referenced blood drinking, tbh more damon drama than kai content but this has been in my drafts for too long
read on ao3
You spot Damon out of the corner of your eye, but before you can disappear into the grill, he’s feet in front of you. You stop, rather abruptly, and he grins.
“Hello, Y/N.”
“What do you want?”
“I see you got blood taken,” he nods to the taped cotton ball on your arm. “Could’ve just given it to me.”
You roll your eyes. “I just got blood work done. Can you tell me if I’m vitamin D deficient? I don’t think so.” Damon furrows his eyebrows. Ignoring him, you reach for the door handle, only for him to grab your elbow and pull you close. “The f— Get off me!”
“I know you’ve been feeding Kai,” he mutters, grip tight.
“That has nothing to do with this. I literally just came from the doctor’s, Damon, and—”
“Not this time, but I know you are every other time you have bandaids on your neck and wrists.”
You sigh, but hold your ground. “So? I’m keeping him out of your way. If anything, you should be thanking me.”
“You’re keeping him alive.”
“At least he’s not eating innocent people off the streets.”
“I think you constitute as innocent, Y/N.”
“Yeah, well, it’s consensual. It’s not snatch, eat, erase.”
“And have you taught him how to do that?”
“As much as I can, not being one of you. But he’s learned how to do it himself, with my bit of instruction.”
“And? Why doesn’t he just do that like the rest of us?”
“Because he prefers to drink from me and I don’t mind.” You finally tug your arm back from his grip. Damon, surprised, drops it. “Besides, there’s the threat of you attacking him every time he steps outside, and if he’s weak from not feeding, you might be able to hurt him.”
The man studies you for a long, uncomfortable minute. “You actually care about him.”
“Is that so wrong?”
“‘Is that so wrong? Is that—’ Y/N, do you not remember the things he’s done?! He killed his whole family! And a bunch of other people!”
“So have you! Kai’s the villain because he’s committed atrocities more recently, but are we all forgetting the reign of terror you caused?! Or Klaus, who’s your buddy now? Your werewolf bite hotline? Kai can get better. He will get better, if he’s just given a chance.”
“Y/N—”
“Have you read the news lately? There have been no reports of animal attacks, nor strange sightings, not even a local bar fight has occurred since he’s been back. So just leave him alone and let me handle it! Besides, don’t you have your mother to deal with? I think she’s a much bigger threat right now, hiding out somewhere with her ‘family’.”
“She’s not your problem; Stefan and I are handling it.”
“Good, and Kai’s not your problem, so let’s all just mind our businesses, alright?”
He sighs in frustration. “Where is he now, Y/N?”
“Not here, so none of your concern.”
“Y/N…” Before he can argue again, he sees Alaric approaching out of the corner of his eye. “Ric,” he mutters. The man’s face is cold, though it’s been that way since the wedding. To your knowledge, he doesn’t know about you and Kai, but it’s also not something you’re willing to risk.
“And that’s my cue to leave.”
“No, Y/N—”
You push through the Grill’s doors open anyway, disappearing from sight. Ric meets Damon’s side a moment later.
“She’s going to avoid me forever, isn’t she?”
“Yep…”
“I just need to talk to her. Work this whole mess out.”
“Something tells me you don’t want to do that,” the other man mumbles.
“What? Why not? She still loves him?”
“It’s… A mess.”
“Damon…” He pauses. “Where is he?”
“She wouldn’t say.”
“Does she know?”
He shrugs, but Ric’s known him long enough to know that’s an unwilling ‘yes’. He thinks for a moment, then shakes his head.
“She’s feeding him, isn’t she? She’s keeping him here.”
“She thinks she’s able to control him,” he says without confirming nor denying.
“She’s insane.”
“Said he prefers her blood, and as long as she’s his source, he’s compliant.”
“I… I can’t believe she’s giving him a second chance. How does she not feel guilty? My wife is dead, my kids!”
“She guilt-tripped me. Compared the situation to Klaus, reminded me of how we trust him now, despite what he’s done.”
“I don’t trust Klaus," he counters.
“But he has changed, sort of, and he doesn’t try to kill us anymore.”
“So you’re trusting Kai will do the same? Be just like Klaus?”
“No, but I know Y/N is stubborn enough that she won’t let us do anything to him until he has a chance to prove which direction he’s going,” he argues, walking into the Grill with Ric following beside him. They sit at the bar and order immediately.
“And we’re just supposed to wait and see?”
Damon shrugs. Far off in the corner, he spots you on the phone, eyeing the door. He tunes into your conversation for a moment.
“You’re at the Grill?”
“Mhm, but it’s busy here.”
“Any chance you could meet me?”
“Yeah, give me five.”
You hang up and discreetly make your way outside, not missing Damon’s stare as you pass.
The vampire turns back to his friend. “I don’t think she’s gonna give us a choice.”
You’re in your room with your boyfriend, trying on old clothes, while he scrolls on his phone. It’s a task you’ve been meaning to do for weeks and he doesn’t mind being your company throughout it. Each time you put on a new outfit, you click your tongue for his attention. Most of the time, you receive a smile with a thumbs up, but sometimes a thumbs down, too. He then looks back at his phone, drawing his focus to an incoming text message.
“So how’d that chemistry final go? I think I did well. Or at least I hope so.”
“It was fine.”
You nod, frowning. B/N laughs at a text, then immediately types a reply. “Good. Were you stumped on question twelve, too?” You laugh, recalling the difficulty you had.
“Not really.”
“Oh.” In an attempt to not linger on it, you strip yourself of the outfit and try on an old sundress. You’ve had it for years and never really worn it, but you’ve never bothered to get rid of it, either. “How’s this one?”
B/N starts to look at you, but then his eyes snap to your phone as it rings with a new notification. “Who’s that?”
Irritation begins to bubble inside you. “I don’t know.”
“Check.”
Warily, you do. “It’s Stiles. He’ll be here in half an hour-ish.” You turn your back to strip off the dress, but then an exasperated sigh catches you off guard. “You okay?” You ask, facing him again.
B/N stares at you for a moment. He looks back at your phone, then again at his own. “Yep.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m fine.”
“Okay.”
Your mind races with questions because he’s clearly not fine, yet he refuses to provide you with any further answers. Maybe he doesn’t like the dress. Or he could be bored and hungry. You start to roll off the sleeves, then pause. “Do you want to go to the kitchen and get a snack?”
“Whatever. Sure.”
“Okay.” A bit relieved, despite his flat tone, you bound towards the door and open it.
Your boyfriend rises to his feet, but then sits back down on the edge of your bed. “Hold up, one minute. I need to answer this.”
“Oh.” Cautiously, you tiptoe over to him and peer over his phone. B/N pulls it down swiftly, blocking the screen from your view. You stutter a quick apology. “Who is it?”
“The guys. They’re planning to meet up today and I need to know the details to see if I can make it.”
“Okay.” You hope he can’t hear the concern in your voice. Your boyfriend doesn’t hang with the nicest group of guys in school, and their girlfriends aren’t too accepting, either. They all know you’re dating, yet you never get invited to their hangouts, nor do they but rarely acknowledge your presence in school. B/N was friends with them before he started dating you, but he had a softer side that made you fall for him.
Stiles, of course, never approved, but he’s always been overprotective of you.
“Alright.” He pockets his phone, looks you up and down, then strides out the doorway without another word.
He prepares himself a bowl of cereal once you reach the kitchen. You stand nervously off to the side, unable to read his face nor body language. Strong emotion wafts off him, but you can’t tell if the negative energy is directed towards you or something else.
When he looks at you, you smile and try to shake away the feeling. You join him by the counter top, where he fishes the drawer for a spoon.
“Oh! Don’t use that spoon!” You giggle, taking the spoon lightly and replacing it with another.
“Why?” A quizzical look takes over his face. It makes you laugh even more.
“That’s Stiles’ special spoon. It’s the only one he likes because it’s small, and the design here is comfortable in his hand,” you explain. “Or at least, that’s what he tells me.”
Your boyfriend tenses. “Seriously?”
“What?”
“He needs a specific spoon to eat? That’s so stupid.”
“It’s not stupid, it’s just what’s comfortable for him. There’s nothing wrong with that!”
“There’s something seriously wrong with that.”
“It’s fine, B/N. Just… use this one, okay?”
“Why does he even have a ‘special spoon’ in your house? He doesn’t live here.”
“No, but he’s here often enough that we keep it for him. He already doesn’t eat enough, and sometimes the only way we can get him to stop moving for five seconds and take care of himself is through his comfort food and the special spoon.”
“That’s crazy.”
“It’s really not.” He shakes his head. “Tell me you wouldn’t do something like that for your best friend.”
B/N spoons a scoop of cereal into his mouth. “My friends don’t have weird quirks like that.”
“It’s not weird. And it isn’t a quirk.”
“Still.”
“What if one of your friends has to sleep a certain way every night, and if you were to have a sleepover, would you accommodate for that? Or what if they, I don’t know, could only run laps clockwise, and not counter clockwise? Or if they always need to be the one driving, because it gives them a sense of control in unpredictable situations?”
“Does Stiles do those things?” You only shrug, not giving him an answer. The man rolls his eyes. “No. I’d tell him to man up and get over it.”
“You seriously wouldn’t care? Even if it didn’t inconvenience you in the slightest?”
“No. It’s stupid. Honestly, if they’re that much of a pussy, they’d be dropped from the friend group.”
Your jaw drops. “What?!”
“Seriously,” he laughs, “because that’s so beyond stupid, it’s just unfathomable. I don’t know where you found that kid, Y/N, but he’s seriously messed up.”
Instantly, your face falls. A look of shock turns to one of sadness in a mere second. B/N notices immediately. He watches your lips purse together and your fingers tap the table nervously. With another roll of his eyes, he gets up to wash his bowl in the sink.
“Y’know… I think I’m gonna go to the bowling alley with the guys tonight.”
“Oh, okay.”
“Yeah.”
For a long, uncomfortable minute, it’s silent. Then, you can’t take it anymore.
“I’m sorry about the spoon thing. I didn’t mean to sour our time together.”
He sighs. “It’s fine.”
“B/N—”
“No, really. I was being overdramatic. I shouldn’t have insulted your friend.” You nod. “I just…” his sentence trails off as he spots a picture frame out of the corner of his eye. Anxiously, you follow his gaze. Pictured is you and Stiles before the freshman spring formal, both paying no attention to the camera, while he works a roadside daisy into the corner of your ear. You’re giggling, and he’s full on laughing, and the sun is hitting you at the perfect angle. It’s one of your favorite memories with him and both your parents have a framed copy.
“I just…” your boyfriend starts again, “can’t do it anymore.”
“What?”
“I can’t compete, Y/N, not with him.”
“What are you talking about?! Stiles? B/N, we’re not— we’re just friends! Best friends, yes, since we were kids. But that’s all it is!”
“That?! That picture is best friends?”
“Yes! I promise you. It was freshman formal, and we were both single but wanted to go, so we went together. I didn’t even know you back then.”
“That’s… no. You are not going to sit here and gaslight me, Y/N. I’ve had enough of it and your bullshit.”
“What?! Gaslighting? I’m not—”
“You are! Right now! Telling me that you don’t have a thing with him. Two seconds ago, you were talking about his favorite spoon, and the way he likes to sleep, and his running and driving habits. How do you know how he sleeps, Y/N? Tell me that!”
“Are you insinuating I sleep with him?! B/N, I know that because we’re best friends. You don’t share that kind of information with your best friends?!”
“No! Of course not. What the hell?! What kind of conversation would even bring that up?!”
“I don’t know! We just tell each other stuff! Whatever comes to mind. It’s like word vomit sometimes, just—” you imitate a throw-up gesture before thinking twice.
Your boyfriend shakes his head. “You aren’t that way with me. Everything seems so calculated all the time. Like you’re afraid of messing up and spilling some dark secret.”
“I don’t have anything to hide from you, first of all! And second, maybe I’d be more comfortable if you weren’t so secretive all the time!”
“Oh please—”
“No, you do not cut me off! You and your guy friends hang out all the time and never invite me along, and that’s fine. But what’s not fine is that I know for a fact their girlfriends go too, and, sometimes, those girls’ friends. And I’m not one to judge, but it’s hard to trust who is at these things, B/N. Because I trust you, but I don’t know them.”
“So now you’re insinuating I cheat on you? Or they’re making me cheat on you?”
“That’s not what I said, I just meant that I don’t know what they’re up to. You’re so worried about me having a secret thing with Stiles, but I don’t know what you’re doing with all these people, either.”
“I can’t believe you’d think I’d cheat, Y/N—”
“That’s not what I said!”
“You know, you’re fucking bitch for saying that. I should be the one worried about you cheating, what, with all these pictures like this, and his stupid spoon and shit.”
“I… I’ve never…” Anger turns to anguish as you realize the name he’s called you. “We’ve never done anything like that. We’ve even invited you along when we hangout, but you always reject our offers.”
“Sorry I don’t want to hang out with your slow, loser friends.”
You scoff. “How could you say that about someone, B/N? Let alone my friends? Sorry they’re not smoking crack behind bleachers, or whatever you guys do. Actually,” you painfully laugh, “maybe you’re jealous that they’re on the team, and you couldn’t even get past tryouts.”
The jab darkens his eyes. You almost regret your words. Swallowing hard, you prepare for his sharp tongue to cut you. Never before has he called you such a vulgar name, but he’s good at choosing careful words that both reprimand and guilt you back into your place. They don’t come too often, only in the worst of fights, but they cut like a knife and sting for days.
“We’re done.”
You straighten, confused, and having expected much worse. “What?”
“We’re over. I don’t want to do this anymore, or compete with your stupid best friend that you’re obviously in love with, and I don’t want to listen to your obnoxious voice defend him over and over, and I don’t want to pretend that I still love you when I’ve moved on months ago. We’re done, Y/N.”
There it is. There’s the knife.
“You… You don’t even love me?”
He laughs. “Frankly, you’re lucky that that freak seems to. You’re possibly the most boring person I’ve ever met. And that dress isn’t your color.”
B/N slowly turns to leave. His shoulders are square, tense, meaning he isn’t quite finished yet, and your head runs wild as you predict one last cut. But this time, instead of words, he rips the silverware drawer from its hinges and slams it down onto the floor. Forks, knives, and spoons go flying into the air with a loud bang, and you sink down to the tile floor, covering your ears and beginning to cry. B/N doesn’t even look back at you as he grabs his school bag and walks out the front door.
You’re still sobbing ten minutes later when Stiles finds you. He enters the house nervously, filled with the panic that something has gone wrong, but then rushes towards the kitchen at the sight of scattered silverware. Then, behind the counter, surrounded by a huge mess, is you. Your hands cover your eyes and your face is flushed with tears. Stiles gets down on his knees immediately and grabs your hands to pull them from your face.
“Hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong? What happened?” Where’s B/N?”
“He left.”
“Okay. You gotta give me more information. Did someone break in? Did you drop something? Are you hurt? Is it medical?” He looks around, surveying the drawer on the floor and its empty usual spot in the cabinet. It doesn’t look like an accident, nor something you had done. Nor anything a burglar would break-in just to do. “C’mon, please. Talk to me.”
“We broke up.”
“What? You and B/N?”
“Mhm.”
“Okay, so what happened? Was there a fight? Did he hit you? Did he throw this?”
“We had a fight,” you confirm, “he was upset, and I was kind of mean.”
“Mean, or just defending yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe both?”
“Okay. What was it about? Did he hit you?” He asks again.
“No, but he threw the drawer.”
“Okay.” Getting somewhere… “And did he throw it because of something you said, or just out of anger?”
“Both, I guess.”
“So he didn’t hit you?”
“No.”
“Good. Okay.” He visibly relaxes. “Did he hurt you any other way?”
“I mean, he was kind of harsh.”
“Okay, how? Tell me what he said. Actually,” he starts to lift you by the arms, “stand up with me and let me sit you down over here, okay? I don’t want you sitting on the floor with all this stuff all over.”
Carefully, you let him help you up. You sniffle as you stand. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Good girl, now sit down, alright? Good.”
It’s the first time he’s called you that, but you don’t have time to linger on it.
“Tell me what happened?”
You nod. “Can you get me some water?”
“Yeah.” He fetches one, then takes the seat opposite your own, scooching it closer to you “Now?”
“Okay.”
You give Stiles the briefest run-down of the last twenty minutes that you can manage, but of course, he pries.
“So he accused you of cheating, to which you may have insuinated that he might also be, and then he decided you guys were done?”
“Pretty much,” you shamefully lie.
Stiles scratches the back of his neck. “That can’t be all, Y/N. The silverware… What happened with that? Why’d he throw the whole drawer?”
“I mean… he’s never been the best at controlling his anger. The drawer,” you pause, “was in the way. His shirt got snagged on the knob and it tugged when he tried to walk away…”
“Y/N.” You avoid his gaze. “Look at me.” Stiles hooks a finger on your chin. “Please tell me what happened. You know I won’t judge.”
You sniffle and drop your head into your hands, sitting criss-crossed in the chair. You only lie to Stiles when you’re afraid, so his panic is increasing with every passing moment. The boy rests both his hands on your knees and comfortably rubs his thumb along your bare skin. A quiet moment passes where he lets you cry a little more. His lips part as he takes in your sight.
“You look beautiful in that dress.”
“What?” You remove your hands from your face to question him.
“This little,” Stiles tugs on one of the ends to pull it further down after it had ridden up a bit, “is perfect for you.”
Like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders, you let out a laugh mixed with a bit of sigh. “I’ve been going through my closet all afternoon, getting rid of old clothes.”
“Well, keep this one, okay?”
You nod. “Thank you.” Stiles gives you a small smile, and while you can tell he wants to prompt you again, he doesn’t. You steal a peek at his hazel brown eyes, but redirect your attention just as fast. “Um… the fight… Technically, it started over a spoon.”
“Hence the silverware toss?”
“Mhm. It calmed down for a minute, but then escalated again. I guess it was my fault, because I said I didn’t know his friends that well, and knew his friends’ girlfriends brought other friends to wherever they would hang out, and I don’t know them well enough to trust them.”
“I think that’s a valid statement.”
“Well he didn’t think so.”
“So he thought you presumed he cheats, but with whom did he think you were cheating?”
“Ah, um… you.” You avoid eye contact again. “He saw the picture over there, which I know he’s seen a thousand times, but this time, it seemed to bother him. But probably because I started the fight over the spoon, because when he was getting cereal, I told him not to use your spoon, and then it turned into a huge thing.” You pause for only a second. “The spoon thing quickly turned into the cheating thing, and then he threw some insults, I threw some back, and then he said we were done.”
“Was there anything in between that?”
“Yeah, a bit.”
“Okay…” sensing your hesitancy, he asks instead, “did he just say that you were done, or did he say something else?”
“I, um.”
“C’mon, Y/N.”
“He just said he didn’t love me. That he hasn’t for months.”
“That’s it. This motherf—” he stands quickly, enraged. “I’m going to kick his ass.”
You jump up to console him and try to get him to sit back down. “No, Stiles, you can’t! Don’t!”
“Y/N, he’s spitting out horrible things to you! I can’t let him get away with that, I—”
“Listen to me, Stiles, you cannot talk to him. Promise me, you won’t talk to him.”
“Did he threaten you?”
“What? No,” you shake your head, “but you have to let it go. Trust me on this.”
“Y/N—”
“Stiles, please.”
“Did he say anything else?”
“Just that.”
Tears well in his own eyes now. He puts a fist over his mouth in a feeble attempt to stop them. “Come here,” he mutters, pulling you into a hug. You bury your face into his neck and cry with him.
It’s been two weeks since the break-up and it’s two days until prom night. You still haven’t told Stiles the full truth, but guilt has been eating you up about it every day. Scott can tell, too, that there is more to the story that you aren’t sharing, but you’ve been deflecting every time he asks. One afternoon, he corners you in a pocket of the library and won’t let you escape.
“Move, wolf boy,” you tease, despite the sudden anxiety settling in your chest.
“Stiles still wants to confront B/N about your fight. He’s afraid he’s hurt you more than you’re letting on.”
You straighten. “Well, he can’t.”
“Well then, you need to give him a reason as to why he can’t.”
“I can’t do that either.”
“Y/N… Was there more to it? Or was he really just being a jerk.”
“I…”
“C’mon, put a little faith in me. I won’t tell Stiles if you don’t want me to, I’ll just keep it to myself, and try to get him to back off.”
You stare at Scott for a moment, then cave. “B/N was jealous of Stiles. I told him it was ridiculous, and that we’re just friends, and never have done anything together, but he said something along the lines of not being able to ‘compete’ with him.”
“And you didn’t tell Stiles that?”
“Of course not. As much as he hates B/N, I don’t want him to know he’s half the reason for our break-up!”
“Okay, I see.”
“So you’ll tell Stiles to back off?”
“I’ll work on it. But Y/N?”
“Yeah?”
“Please consider telling him the whole story. That, and whatever else I can tell you’re still hiding. We’re your friends, and we care about you, Stiles, especially. If you’re worried about the truth messing things up or something, don’t be. I don’t think anything in the world could pull you guys apart.”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Okay.”
“Thank you.”
When prom night arrives, Kira comes over to your house to get ready, while Scott and Stiles prepare at the latter’s. Twenty minutes to seven, you’ll meet up and he’ll drive the four of you to the dance.
The whole time, you’re nervous. You still haven’t told Stiles anything else since the day the break-up happened, and while part of you wants to never admit it, you know you have to soon. To make matters worse, B/N will be there, and probably with one of those girls just to spite you. Or, he’ll be petty and show up alone just to prove he had nothing going on with them. You’re not sure which is worse.
You pull your dress over your head with Kira’s help, then look yourself over in the mirror. It’s long and beautiful, and in one of your favorite colors. B/N would’ve had a matching tie, but you doubt he’s wearing it tonight.
“Don’t think about him tonight,” Kira interrupts your thoughts, “you look gorgeous, and he sucks.”
You laugh. “Thank you.” You help her with her own dress, then let out a low, playful whistle. “You look beautiful! Scott’s a lucky guy.”
She giggles. “Thank you, too.” Kira grabs a lip pencil to touch up her make-up and looks at you through the mirror. “We can leave here a little early if you want to talk to Stiles.”
“Why would I want to talk to Stiles?”
“Y/N…”
You sigh. “Did Scott put you up to this?”
“No, but I can tell you there’s more to your story that you don’t want to tell. Remember, I have a lot of the same sensing capabilities as Scott.”
“Right.”
“But even without them, I can tell something’s up. And I think Stiles can, too.”
“Has he said something?”
“Not in so many words, but he’s been a bit sad lately, because I think he senses something off from you. And the whole ‘don’t confront B/N’ thing… I mean, he knows he hurt you, even if he doesn’t know everything that was said. And you’re his girl, Y/N. He can’t stand to see you hurt and not be able to do a thing about it.”
You purse your lips. “Promise me, if we talk, it won’t ruin the whole night?”
“It’ll only make it better, I promise. Even if it’s not the best news, it’ll take a weight off both your chests.”
“Okay. I’ll tell him.”
“I’ll distract Scott,” she winks.
Way before the decided meet-up time, you and Kira knock on the boys’ door. Instantly, you hear scrambling and shouts of, “we’re not ready!” but then Kira swings the door open anyway and grins.
“Too bad!”
Both stop in their tracks as they stare at you. Stuttered compliments tumble from their lips. But after a solid minute, Scott tilts his head. “I thought it was six forty that we were meeting up?”
“Plans are changing a little. Is that okay?” Kira nods to you, then Stiles.
“Um, yeah. Oh, okay. Stiles?”
“Sure, uh, I guess. Yeah. Let me finish this button.”
“We’re not leaving yet,” Kira assures.
You finish, “I just, uh, need to talk to you.”
He pauses fumbling for the button to look at you. “Oh, okay. Everything okay?”
“Um, I don’t know. I think— I hope so.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see Kira pull Scott from the room and swiftly shut the door. “It’s about the fight we had… B/N and I,” you pause, “it was about you.”
Before you tell the whole story, you both take to his bed. He nervously messes with the button more until you lean over to fix it for him. His breath hitches in his throat at you being so close. Your hair falls down your shoulder, along with your dress strap. Once you get his button, he adjusts the strap to fit better.
“Thanks,” you reply in unison.
You sit back and put your hands in your lap.
“You look beautiful.”
“Thank you. Where’s your tie?”
“Oh. I haven’t put it on yet.”
You nod. “So…”
“Wait, Y/N?”
“Hm?”
“There’s wolves and foxes around that can probably hear us. Are you okay with that?”
“Yeah. It’s okay.”
“Okay.”
This time, you tell him the truth. Every detail, from the spoons, to other habits, to the friends and the cheating accusations. You recall the insult he threw, but in a ramble, assure Stiles he is anything but that; he is both extremely smart and fun, and for B/N to not see that is a shame. You then share what insult you threw back, earning a laugh, and a smile from yourself. But for a moment, you pause, before confessing what had hurt the most. The traits of yours that you loved that he decided were his least favorite about you; your loyalty, your heart, your charisma. B/N was too blinded by his jealousy to see these traits directed towards him.
But then maybe… they weren’t all along. Maybe he was right, in a way, about some things.
However, you don’t say that to Stiles. You only tell him about the fight, and what was said, and what he did. You left out the name, too, but Stiles pries for that as soon as you’re finished talking.
“What name did he call you?”
You can laugh about it now. It’s almost comical. Almost. But clearly, not to Stiles.
“He called me a bitch.”
“Well he’s an asshole.”
You giggle. “Are you mad?”
He stops picking at a fabric on his comforter to look at you. “Wait, what? Why would I be mad?”
“Because… I don’t know.”
“I’m mad at him,” Stiles says, “but of course not at you.” He bites his lip. “I’m sorry I caused your break-up.”
“It’s okay. I know you never liked him anyway.”
“Still.”
“It’s okay,” you promise. “I don’t want to be with someone who insults my friends.”
He nods. “I don’t want you to be with anyone that treats you like that. I love all those things he says he doesn’t like. And you’re not obnoxious, you’re not boring, and you’re not unloveable. And that dress was exactly your color, just like this one is, too, and you look absolutely beautiful in both of them.”
You smile. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Was there any truth in his words?”
His eyes narrow. “What do you mean? Of course not! Y/N—”
“No, I mean, about like… us. I mean, has Scott ever said anything, or like, do people think we’re a couple, or is he just insecure?”
Something sharp shoots down Stiles’ spine at the question. “I— I don’t know. What do you think?”
“I don’t know, either.”
“What about Kira?”
You shrug. “What about your dad?”
“My dad?” He smiles nervously. “I don’t know.”
“Stiles.”
“Hm?” You force eye contact by staring at him until he cracks. “My dad’s an outlier. He causes a spike in the data set that throws the whole thing off.”
You snort-laugh, then erupt into a fit of laughter for a solid minute. He laughs along with you, but goes back to picking at his comforter a moment later.
“Well can I be honest, then?”
He nods. “Of course.”
“Maybe he was a little right. B/N was. He said I was never fully comfortable around him, and he was right. Part of that was because of him and his friends, but another part of that was because he wasn’t you.”
“He wasn’t…” he repeats, taking a second to taste the words in his mouth. Stiles’ eyes dart down at the bed, then back up at you like they don’t know where to land. His heart speeds up quickly, as does yours. “So does that mean…?” You like me? He’s afraid to ask.
“I don’t know.” It’s quiet for a moment more, before you ask, “did you mean what you said earlier?”
“Which time?”
“That you,” hesitation makes your voice shaky, “love all those things about me that he didn’t like?”
“Of course I do, Y/N, I always have.”
“I know, but, like…” When words fail you, you make a cautious glimpse into his eyes.
Little did you know, he was already looking at you. You can see his throat bob as he swallows nervously. “I always have,” he repeats. It’s a whisper, but you hear it clearly.
Like dust, the words take a moment to settle. They dance in the air of the small space between you before landing gently around his fingertips. You resist the urge to reach out, to pick them back up, to say more, but you’re not sure what else to say.
“I’m, uh, gonna finish getting ready,” he says, heart racing and eyes meeting the clock.
“Okay.”
Stiles slides off the bed to grab his tie from the closet. You watch, mixed emotions swirling about in your head and in your heart. Neither of you are quite sure if the words he uttered were a confession, or simply a reassurance. You’ve shared a thousand ‘I love yous’ in the past, but none of them ever held quite the same weight as they do now.
“I wasn’t sure if B/N was going to make it to prom,” Stiles says suddenly. “Of course, for your sake, I hoped he would. Even though I wasn’t his biggest fan, I never wanted him to break your heart. But in case he did pull a massive douche move, which he definitely did, I wanted to be prepared.”
You narrow your eyes, unsure what he means by that.
Stiles’ back is turned while he fixes his tie into his dress shirt. He struggles a little, as always, but gets it eventually. You sit on the edge of his bed, anticipating to see the color he’s chosen, and what B/N has to do with it.
Last year, it was a cerulean blue that matched his eyes perfectly. This year, maybe a—
Your breath hitches in your throat as he turns towards you. A shy smile tugs at his lips; his gaze falls to your dress. Save for the fact he looks incredibly handsome, his tie is the exact shade as your dress. It has a slight pattern to it, one that vaguely represents the dance’s theme, but still something that’s so much just him.
“Stiles!” You gasp, fighting threatening tears. “When? How?”
“I may have pulled a few strings from Lydia,” he confesses, a more confident smile taking over his features.
“When?”
“The same day you chose that dress. I hope it isn’t too much, and I have a spare I can use instead, if it is. But as I was saying, I wanted to be prepared if he was going to pull a last-minute douche move, because I don’t want you going to prom alone, so if you would have me, I’ll take you to prom. Just as we did freshman year. Well, spring formal, then, but you get the idea.”
Just as he finishes his sentence, you rush forward and throw your arms around him. He hugs back immediately, nervous hands warming the exposed skin on your back. The sweet smell of your perfume fills his nose and makes him dizzy. When you pull away, his hands cup your chin gently.
“It isn’t too much. I love it. I love y—” You pause, eyes dropping down. Standing before him now, you realize the words definitely have a new weight to them.
“You—” he doesn’t finish his sentence, either. Storm clouds of worry dance in his eyes at your fallen gaze. Anxiety bubbles in his chest.
You rehearse the confession in your mind before trying to say it out loud again. It doesn’t feel heavy, despite the new weight. It only feels right. You swallow hard, whispering it so quietly your lips barely move, then, finally, do you look at him again. “I love you.”
The boy seems to freeze in place at the confession. His hands still hold your face while he searches it for hesitancy. You blush at the prolonged eye contact, and in an attempt to wake him from his daze, brush your thumb over his lips.
“I love you,” you repeat, much more decisively.
“I always have,” he says, for the second time that night.
He shifts closer to you, rubbing his own thumb along your jawline. You nod in reply to the unspoken question that hangs above your heads, and not a moment later is he kissing you. Soft and sweet are his lips, and gentle is the way that he tastes you. A small curve of smile rests against your cheeks; your own smile grows wider as he captures your bottom lip between his teeth. Stiles’ hands move to the back of your head, but stop before they can tangle in your hair. He pulls back, dimples causing indents you’ve always wanted to kiss.
“Sorry.”
Kira spent nearly thirty minutes making your hair perfect. But if he pulled it out, it would have been worth it.
“It’s okay,” you say, eyes sparkling up at him.
“If it isn’t obvious,” he laughs briefly, “I love you, too.”
You can’t help the giggle that leaves your lips. But as you start to reach for him again, the door swings wide open and his dad steps inside, phone in hand.
“You guys ready? Oh—” He notices the proximity immediately and begins to stutter and retreat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— I thought— Wait… I thought you two weren’t— Stiles, you told me you were just—”
“We were!” He hurries to say. “Well, up until like, five minutes ago, we were.”
“Oh. Okay. So now?”
“We’re… not?”
“Now you’re?”
Father and son stare questioningly at each other, while you try to contain your laughter behind the palm of your hand.
“More?” You offer, breaking the silence.
“More is good,” Stiles agrees.
“How much more?” The Sheriff asks, eyes narrowed. “‘Friends with benefits’ type of more, or ‘something a little more’ type of more?” Stiles opens his mouth, but then his dad cuts him off. “And please don’t say the first. Those are always so complicated.”
“Well I was hoping for a ‘something little more’ type of more, but that depends on,” Stiles pauses, nodding to you.
“I don’t think I can do anything less than ‘something a little more’.”
“Soooo… is that a ‘pull out the emergency corsage’ type of answer, or ‘tell your dad to hush and take his camera somewhere else’ kind of answer?”
You laugh and let your face fall into Stiles’ shoulder to muffle it.
“That’s a ‘both of those options’ kind of answer. And if you could back away and out the door for just a moment, that would be great.”
“Right. Sorry.” Mr. Stilinski starts to leave, but then pokes his head back in for a second. “Oh, and Scott and Kira are outside, and ready to walk if you don’t hurry up.”
“Tell them to wait a minute! I’m the only one with the keys, they won’t get far.”
“I’ll tell them you’re a bit busy. Y’know, kissing and stuff.” He ducks out quickly.
“Wait, dad!” But he’s gone. You pull your head away from Stiles, laughing even harder now. “Oh shush!” He jokes, pushing your shoulder playfully.
“So what exactly does ‘something a little more’ more entail?” You ask, collecting yourself.
He smiles, then takes a deep breath to compose himself. A cheesy smile dons his face, making you blush as you predict his next words. “Well, I’m kinda hoping it means you’ll be my girlfriend, if that’s okay. And, if that’s okay, if you’ll also be my prom date.”
Your heart beats a mile a minute as excitement floods your veins. “I will gladly be your girlfriend, and prom date.”
Stiles blushes more, his cheeks turning a dark red. “Good.” He gives you another kiss, this one shorter than the last, but still as sweet. “Should we go downstairs?”
“Sounds good to me.”
The unsurprised faces of Scott and Kira immediately tell you they had heard the whole conversation. The smug but happy look of Mr. Stilinski proves that they must’ve told him everything, plus the added fact that he walked in on you. It’s dead silent for the slightest moment, but then Kira rushes towards you for a hug, while the two best friends share a nod of confirmation. Soon, you’re joined by everyone’s excited parents and their cameras. After a couple minutes of photos, they finally let you go.
“So are you two finally together?” Kira asks, not one minute after you pull out of the neighborhood.
Slowly, you nod. The girl shrieks, while her boyfriend claps rather manically.
“Thank god!” Scott says. “I’ve been watching them pine since middle school! Neither ever confessing it, but you could see it there; it’s been so painful to watch.”
“Shut up, Scott!” You push his arm from the backseat.
He doesn’t, and in fact, continues. “I was afraid B/N was never gonna go. He was in the way of my OTP!”
“Stop!”
“Man, you really need to stop,” a laughing Stiles agrees.
“No no no, I’ve kept my mouth shut about it for too long. You two have always been perfect for each other, and you’re just now realizing it. Even Coach has asked me if you guys are dating before.”
“What?!” You shout at the same time. “When?!”
“I don’t remember, but one day that practice ran late, so you came into the locker room to find us. He pointed out that there were about twenty shirtless dudes in there, but you were only focused on Stiles. It was super hard to convince him you’ve always been just friends.”
“Guess you can tell him otherwise tonight,” Kira laughs, knowing the man is chaperoning.
“Oh no, he can find that out on his own time! His dad already caught us, I can’t deal with that happening twice!”
Another round of laughter fills the Jeep as you pull into the school. Stiles finds the nearest parking spot that won’t get him trapped, nor give you and Kira a long distance to walk. He offers a hand as you step out, kissing the top of yours. You blush, then kiss his cheek in return.
“Lovebirds, ready?”
“Shut up, I saw you kiss her, too,” Stiles bites back at his friend.
“Blah, blah, let’s go dance.”
Halfway through the night, you and Stiles take to one of the tables on the outside of the room. You’re both out of breath and in desperate need of a snack, and the DJ is playing a strange song neither of you recognize. Rather dramatically, you collapse into chairs. Stiles takes a second before fetching two waters, while you take off your shoes for a brief pause. When he returns, you sit in comfortable silence and watch the dance continue around you.
“So… when you said your dad was an outlier… just how much does he skew the data set?”
Stiles grins. “He’s been rooting for us to be together since the dawn of time.”
You laugh. “I think I have been, too, even if it took me a while to realize.”
“Me too,” he admits, staring out towards the dance floor. In the distance, Scott waves him over, but Stiles only waves back. “There was a chocolate fountain at the snack table, if you want to camp out over there.”
“Ooh, yes! Wait, I have to put my shoes back on.”
The boy chuckles, but waits patiently while you strap on your heels again. He holds a hand out for you to take when you’re done, then leads you to the table.
Between the dancing crowd and the amount of exhausted kids strewn about in chairs, the snack table isn’t too busy. It’s a bit picked through, but the chocolate fountain continues to flow, and that’s really all that matters. You and Stiles stand by it for a couple minutes, drenching sweets and fruits, and occasionally sticking a finger in when no one’s looking. You smack Stiles’ arm playfully the first time he does it, but let it slide the next two.
“Hey,” you poke his shoulder, voice low.
“I didn’t do it, I swear!” He defends, holding up all fingers as proof.
“Not that.” Nodding, you point out ex-B/N as he approaches from the crowd. Stiles tenses, back straightening. His throat goes dry.
“Do you want to confront him or leave?”
“Is there a way to just disappear?”
“Mmm… let’s duck.” Immediately, you both drop to the floor. ex-B/N’s footsteps carry towards where you were standing only a second ago. His gruff voice calls your name, causing Stiles to tilt his head to the side. Understanding straight away, you crawl under the table, snacks still in hand. He puts a finger to his lips as a blueberry rolls off your plate.
For a heavy moment, you’re still. Your ex is only a mere foot away while you and Stiles hide under the snack table. The blueberry is no less than a centimeter from his shoe, and when he finally sighs and walks away, he squashes it like a bug.
“Ah, shit.”
A giggle forms in your throat, bringing a gentle blush to your cheeks. Stiles notices immediately and clamps a hand over your mouth. He doesn’t take his hand away until ex-B/N’s shoes are blended in with the rest of the crowd and out of sight. As soon as he’s gone, you go back to snacking on your chocolate treats.
“Good quick thinking,” you compliment.
“Thank you.” Without a second thought, he wipes a bit of chocolate off your lip and licks it off his finger. “Even though you almost gave us away.”
“Sorry.” Your tone is playful and it makes him smile.
You don’t come out from under the table until you finish your snacks. When you emerge, three nearby students raise their eyebrows, but you don’t care. You throw your plate away, and accept Stiles’ hand as he pulls you back to the dancefloor. A slow song is playing and he doesn’t want to waste the opportunity to hold you close. In a matter of seconds, his hands are on your waist and you loop yours around his neck. Stiles kisses you, but rather quickly, because he’s well aware Coach is nearby, calling out anyone for PDA.
“You taste like chocolate.”
“So do you.” He twirls you, then brings you back to his arms. “When’d you learn to do that?”
“Scott’s mom may have given us a crash course.”
“Oh, really?”
His cheeks go bright red. “I may have prepared with more than just the tie.”
“Well, I’m glad you did.” You kiss his nose. “Also… thank you for not confronting him, both tonight and after it happened. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the whole story at first. I’m also sorry I asked you not to say anything, despite only telling you the harshest of what he said to me. Truth is, I didn’t want you to blame yourself for us breaking up. I also wasn’t ready to face the fact that he could be right, at least in his accusations of me loving you in a more-than-friends type of way. And, I was afraid that if you confronted him, he would start a fight and hurt you. Basically, what I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry, but also thank you… for everything.”
“First of all, you have nothing to be sorry for. Yeah, it hurt a bit when I could tell you weren’t telling me the whole truth, but I understand now that you were trying to protect me. And had you not asked, I would’ve totally thrown a punch in your honor, and then certainly would’ve gotten a black eye, then I’d have to explain to Coach and my dad where it came from. It’d be a huge thing,” he jokes playfully. “Nah, you don’t have to apologize. You always tell me when you’re ready. I trust you.”
“And that’s one of the big differences between the two of you. I was loyal, but he didn’t trust me.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much about it, Y/N. He tried to blame your break-up on our friendship, but he was looking for a way out anyway. His loss, by the way, and his immaturity to not just outright say that. Deep down, though, he knows it. He knows he was wrong, both about accusing you and how he decided to handle it. He may never confess, but he knows.”
You nod, moving your hands up to his neck. You stroke the end of his hairline gently, sending a shiver up his spine. “So what do you think he’ll do if he sees us together tonight?”
“To be honest, I think he’ll be really angry at first, but then either his subconscious or his right-hand douche man will settle him down, reminding him he broke up with you, and that if he starts a fight here, Coach will kick him out.”
“But—”
“And if he sees me kiss you, he’ll curse out loud that he was right. But he’ll know that even if the feelings were there, you were loyal to him, and it was probably his mention of them that they were ever unburied at all.”
“So you don’t think he’ll start a fight in the middle of prom?”
“I doubt it. And if he does, I’ll just tell Coach he broke your heart and he’ll defend you immediately.”
“Okay.” You start to lean in, but stop. “Wait, why me?”
“C’mon, do you not remember what Scott said in the car? I think he was rooting for us as much as my dad was.”
“Oh,” you giggle, slightly searching for the man in the crowd. You don’t spot him, but wonder if he can see you.
“He can definitely see us,” he confirms, reading your mind. “If he doesn’t come to shout about it tonight, he will in practice on Monday. But it’s all in good fun. He yells at the people he cares about.”
You laugh again, and when you look back at Stiles, he kisses you more. His hands travel to your back to pull you closer just for a moment, before releasing you and smiling.
“Sending out a beacon?”
He chuckles. “Hopefully not. I just can’t help myself over how beautiful you look.”
“Well thank you again.”
He opens his mouth to say something else, but then a tap on your shoulder has you jumping back into his chest. You both laugh when you realize it’s only Kira.
“Come over here, Scott wants us to all take group photos!”
Shrugging, you oblige, and follow the girl off the crowded dance floor. When you get there, a smiling Scott hands you both a cheesy prop, and you huddle in close for pictures.
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summary: the only way to live is to finally admit you're dead. some realize immediately, others take time.
word count: 1,175
tags: afterlife AU, implied character death, canonical character death, post-canon, sire bonds, happy ending
a/n: hey so this work is a bit cryptic, but it was hiding out in my drafts and I just found it. truthfully, I couldn't remember I wrote it for a good five minutes, but then the idea I had in mind — literally over two and a half years ago — returned to me and jogged my memory of its plot. I think I like it enough to post it. hopefully it makes enough sense, and someone else likes it, too.
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It feels as though you’ve been walking for centuries. Meandering through a place that looks like home, but doesn’t feel like it. Mystic Falls remains as you’d always seen it, yet something in the air is different. There’s a wispiness; a forever dark cloud looming overhead. A sadness, and a feeling of a job left unfinished.
The people there, too, are different. For a while, you wandered without speaking. Part of you was afraid, part was too shy. Others would glance at you with a similar look of how you’d stare at them. They’d be dressed in all periods and decades of clothes, and sometimes, if you’d overhear a conversation, dialect and tongue would vary, too.
However despite your billions of questions, you never asked. Instead, you remained cemented in your home. Familiar. Isolated from the unexplainable. Security overruled curiosity, so you seldom left it.
More questions arose, though, when you ran out of food. Your kitchen became empty, yet you never grew hungry. You went days without eating, but the only thing you felt was boredom. It wasn’t until a week later that you finally asked yourself — am I dead?
You were.
In fact, you’ve been dead for months.
The longer you wander, the more your memory returns. For some, faster than others. Some take hours; some take decades. Denial makes a home in the corner of the mind. It prevents many from seeing the truth. The moment you realize you are dead, you start to remember.
It was a senile old man from whom you learned all this. He was walking past your window, a cane in hand, and you saw him as an opportunity to learn without risk. After all, he couldn’t hurt you if he could barely walk. You had started with the basic questions — those pertaining to your location, and the chilliness in the air. He answered politely, but then spilled the truth in his next breath: that you were dead. You both were. And that now you existed on The Other side, a place for supernatural creatures after passing.
You took a moment to let that sink in, and in the meantime, he told you his story. He had lived a long life before he was turned, but then being in the wrong place at the wrong time in one of Europe’s most vulnerable decades landed him on death’s door. It was a new vampire, still gaining control of her newly altered state. She hadn’t meant to drink him nearly to death, but when she realized she had, she tried to heal him. It only worked halfway.
But unfortunately, her reason for starving soon became his, and he found himself in the same situation shortly after his full transition. The city’s blood was tainted with disease. It filled the stomach, but weakened the body. Those who weren’t sick out on the streets were locked away in their homes. Everyone, ill or not, was soon plagued with delusions. Ghost stories previously seen as fiction became truth, and everyone cried out that vampires were the cause of the mass hysteria. Husbands distraught over their afflicted wives sought out the monsters with wooden stakes. Again, wrong place, wrong time.
But while the man found peace in The Other Side, you were soon faced with a harsh memory. You remembered your own story as he told his. As pieces fit themselves like a puzzle in your mind, you spoke them out loud.
You, a newly turned vampire, turned by choice for a boy you loved. An eternity was promised between the two of you; you were to escape the town and make a new life somewhere. But Mystic Falls is always haunted by something troubling, and this time, neither of you made it out alive.
He asked about your death — if it was a wooden stake.
The image of your best friend with a white oak stake in his heart settles uncomfortably in your mind. It was for him. For you, though, it was his death.
“Died of a broken heart?” He asked, confused.
“His sire line. But that could have been it just as easily.”
At this, the man shuffled his feet. “Lines don’t die when the sire does. Unless it was an Original that was staked.”
“It was.” A new voice comes from the left. You turn, holding your breath at the fact that you recognize it. The man straightens his back, but keeps his hand on his cane. The question arises, aside from that about the voice, why a vampire needs a cane, but then your heart drops to your knees when the next thing from the mysterious one’s mouth is something you’d never thought you’d hear again. “Hello, darling.”
The man steps back. Kol steps forward.
For a moment, you just stare in disbelief.
“Aren’t you going to give me a hug?”
That’s all you need to hear to rush forward into his arms. You throw your arms around his neck, and your legs around his waist, bear-hugging the boy as tightly as you can. Kol holds you, kissing your face gently, in between murmurs of how much he missed you.
“I’ve been looking for you,” he says, setting you back down on the ground.
“I didn’t know I was dead.” You grab his hand and rub his palm. “When did you realize?”
“I’ve looked at this place for decades. Never been, but I could see it from afar. Klaus’ daggers never killed, but they sent us to the brink of The Other Side.”
“You knew all along.”
“I wish I could’ve helped you realize,” he starts.
Instead of letting him finish, though, you kiss him. You have to tiptoe to reach, but when you do, you hold his face in your hands. He kisses you back sweetly, yet with a passion that sends butterflies throughout your mind and body.
The man watches, but you don’t remember he’s there until Kol breaks it off and turns to him. “Thank you for helping her. Say, why does a vampire need a cane?”
He nods with sincerity. A smirk tugs on his lower lip when he addresses Kol’s question. “Just because I’m dead doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun. I died in my eighties, and used a cane up until I turned. Now it’s a prop for unsuspecting drifters.”
You cock your head. “Were you going to eat me?”
“I was still thinking about it,” he admits.
“Until I mentioned my sire?” Kol doesn’t miss the gleam in your eye when you use the word. His own heart races.
The man doesn’t answer. He glances at Kol, then back at you. “The Other Side isn’t all bad. For some of us, it’s finally a chance to live.” And with that, he’s gone.
You turn to Kol, curious for his reaction. The boy’s already looking at you. His eyes are light with a bit of mischief and his lips are curved into a smile.
“Well, then,” he says, a hand resting on your shoulder. “How do you say we live a little?”
summary: the next time you see kai, he's on a mission. but this time, he has a plan that will keep him around forever.
word count: 2.1k
tags: pre-canon (conversations we didn't get to hear before the canon events), 1903 PW / heretics mentioned, implied future violence, mild blood drinking, crashing a wedding (derogatory)
a/n: i think i've beat the e22 wedding plot into the ground by now, but this time i just wanted to mention the bites in his wrist from feeding the heretics. that's literally the only reason this was written. and i wrote it in one espresso-fueled sitting, at 1 am, on a work morning. i regret nothing.
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At the telltale sound of someone trying to sneak around, you set down your phone and listen. The door is shut carefully; the lock slowly clicks into place, the hinges barely squeak. A moment of silence.
Footsteps proceed with caution. A light breath is taken, as if it's been held up until now.
You stay quiet, hidden in plain sight — the living room, partitioned off by a large wall. The intruder doesn't know you're there until they see you. When they — he — finally does, he freezes.
Your jaw drops as if you've seen a ghost. He swallows visibly, eyes wide.
"What are you doing here?"
"What are you doing here?"
You stare at each other.
"Watching Lily…" You finally respond, despite asking first. "What are you—?"
"Looking for Lily," he admits.
You blink. Twice, actually, just to confirm he's really there.
"You're…" As soon as it really hits you, you rise from the couch and rush towards him. When you throw your arms around his neck, Kai wraps his around your waist. He takes in a deep breath, heavy on the exhale. You place a small kiss on his shoulder before pulling back. "You're safe," you finally finish.
He opens his mouth to reply, but doesn't get far. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch sight of his arms. Or, more specifically, the numerous wounds littering both his wrists. Shocked, you can't help but gasp. "You're not safe."
"It's okay," he counters. "I'm okay."
"But these… What are these?" You grab his arm for closer inspection — run a finger along one scar to feel how deep it goes. Kai doesn't flinch, but he does take your wrist off his with his spare hand and holds onto it. "Are they bites? Did you get attacked?!"
"Yes, but no. Baby, I have to find Lily as soon as possible. I can explain everything afterwards, but I need to talk to her."
"She's in the basement, Damon asked me to keep an eye on her."
"Where's Damon?"
"Out… Everyone's out."
"Okay. Good."
He makes a step to move, but you block him.
"What's going on? Why do you need to see her? How'd you even get out?"
"Do you trust me?"
"Of course I do."
"Then I need you to stay out of this. Watch the door, make sure no one comes in."
"Hold up, you can't barge in here after four months of being gone and expect me to leave you alone again. Last time we were separated is when you got stuck in that stupid prison world."
"Y/N, Lily is angry and volatile without her family. You cannot be down there with her."
"And you can?"
"I have something she wants; she won't hurt me."
You scan his face and know he's not letting up. "But I have the key," you argue.
Kai sighs, obviously frustrated by the way this conversation is going. "Can I borrow the keys?"
"I can go down there with you…"
"Okay. Fine. But stay quiet and stay behind me. I don't want her taking you as a bargaining chip if this doesn't work."
"Okay…" You lead him to the basement doors, down into the cellar. You're still incredibly confused and concerned, but Kai is clearly focused and won't be distracted until he finishes out his goal. You know that about him, and usually like the trait, but right now, it's only causing worry.
"You'll be okay, I just need you to listen."
"Kai—"
"Shh."
Clamping your mouth shut, you follow behind the witch until he finds Lily's cell. He makes sure to stand a great distance away as he approaches, then uses a nearby piece of scrap metal to pull back the small window.
"Stay," he repeats to you, for like, the fifth time.
You don't reply.
"Hey, Lily…"
Her face suddenly comes into view: two dark eyes filling the entire open space, effectively making even Kai flinch in unexpected fear. They don't soften when she names either of you, but Kai's shoulders relax a bit. He addresses her with confidence.
"So, uh, I see you heard of me…"
"My family," she interrupts. "You were locked away with them. How did you get free? Where are they?"
"About that — that's why I'm here." You squint. "I want to make a deal with you… My freedom for your family. How's that sound?"
The woman's eyes widen. Panic fills them — likely due to the threat of Kai holding back what she wants most, if she refuses to not work with him. He only gives her a short smile, knowing he has the upper hand. Lily looks at him with vengeance, then finally calms just a touch.
"Tell me your plan," she eventually gives.
Kai reaches a hand behind his back to link his fingers into yours. He squeezes once, then releases.
"Gladly."
Long story short, Kai used Bonnie's idea of escaping the prison world through the tomb in Nova Scotia. He made a promise with the heretics to get them out, but wouldn't do so without a price: Lily's willing participation to help him exact revenge on his coven — a participation the heretics believed would be easy to get, considering their collective hatred for the group. See, no sooner than he was left there, the disturbed heretics began to wake. Out of boredom, he fed them, but then made friends with the lot. He continued to let them feed once he learned their stories — how they all possess similar backgrounds, and how they were all left to rot for decades in an alternate world.
The heretics — you soon remember — were all siphons once, that were turned by Lily after outcast from their coven. You recall Kai saying they were bloodthirsty and dangerous. They were put away for a horrific crime, and were led by none other than Lily Salvatore herself — the original family ripper.
But that was in 1903, and until Kai, there hadn't been another siphon since their outcast. When keeping him locked up forever went awry, the forgotten colony of Lily and her heretics was also rediscovered. And now, Kai is talking to Lily about returning the heretics to the modern day, just as long as she helps him… exterminate the entire Gemini Coven…?
"Wait, what?"
"It's the only way we'll be truly free," Kai says, turning to you. "As long as they know I'm out again, they'll never give up on putting me back. I don't want to live my whole life in prison worlds, Y/N, and the heretics shouldn't have to spend another decade in theirs, either."
"But doesn't the leader have to die for the coven to die?" Your heart rate spikes. "You can't die on me, Kai. I can't let you! Do you really think death is a better option to the prison worlds? Because I'll go with you! If they lock you up again, I'll go with you, I promise."
Lily stares at you wordlessly.
Kai, on the other hand, gives you his full attention. He squeezes your hand with just enough pressure that it reminds you to breathe. "I'm not going to die, baby, I promise. Just a little temporary death, not enough to stick." He offers a small smile. "I think you got lost in thought there for a minute…"
"What?"
"The reason I wanted to talk to Lily… Is because I've spent the last four months with the heretics. They're just like me — hated, outcasted, abandoned… But Lily turned them all, and they became something the coven feared due to their strength."
"But if you die, that won't happen, you'll just die!"
"Not if she gives me her blood," he counters.
You wipe away a tear. "What?"
"If Lily gives me her blood, I'll give her her heretics. Then I'll die — temporarily — to kill my coven, but I'll be reborn as one of hers."
"You'll become a heretic," you finally understand.
"Exactly."
Kai lets it sink in for a moment. Honestly, he's not sure how you'll take the new plan; half of him expects you to reject it, unwilling to let him kill his whole coven. He waits in agony for your response, nerves causing his breath to hitch in his throat.
And you… Have mixed feelings about it. When the full realization hits you, it hits like a truck. Neither outcome is good — not the death of the total coven, nor their endless chase of Kai that will surely happen should he not chooses not to kill them. On top of that, Lily will be perpetually angry, and likely after Kai for never bringing back her heretics. Or, they will come back, and the coven will spent ages trying to put them back, too. You let out a shaky breath, weighing options in your head like one's life on Anubis' Scales.
Then, Kai touches your face. Gently, with the back of his pointer finger, he wipes a stray tear down to your jaw, touches your lower lip with his thumb. His blue eyes peer into yours and they look gorgeous; you miss looking into them everyday. You miss kissing his soft lips and feeling his warm hugs.
You glance back down at his arms.
"These bites will be gone… If you drink her blood?"
"Yes, baby, those will heal."
After a hard swallow, you finally nod. "I can't stand the thought of losing you. They had purposely distracted me when you all went to 1903; they wanted me to be completely powerless when they left you there. And in those four months you were gone, nothing in this town changed. There was no big event that happened because you weren't there, it was just the same old town but more boring. The only change was with me, because of what they'd done. Hell, even Jo didn't seem to like the idea of you being put away — she looked afraid, like they had made a mistake."
"Knew I'd come back with a vengeance?"
"Probably."
"Does that scare you?" He asks, head tilted curiously.
You take a deep breath. "You and Jo can't be alive at the same time. Regardless if you're here or in the prison world, she's still going to be afraid of you. Similarly, you can't be here at the same time your coven is, because they'll spend all their days hunting you. And honestly, I think your dad should be put down for all the shit he did to you. I won't mourn him, and I don't think anyone with half a brain — or heart — would."
"So, you're saying…"
"I'm not going to stop you. If you want to do this, I support you." You nod to Lily. "Drink her blood. Do this. Make sure your father sees your rebirth as a heretic before he dies. Then… Turn me. I may not become a heretic, but I want to never die with you… If you want that, too."
Kai's heart stutters. He smiles happily before leaning in for a quick kiss. His fingers cup your chin and his tongue traces along your lower lip. "I do… Want that," he says, pulling away. "I want to experience life with you. If this is the only way to do it, I'm going to take it."
You fish in your back pocket for the cell's key. "Okay. Then… Ready?"
He takes it, then turns back to Lily. "I'll put your heretics in a safe place until everything's finished." Kai glances at you. "Stay as much out of the way as you can… I don't want you getting hurt. If you have to go to the wedding, keep to the back. Stay away from my father."
"I will, I promise."
Without a moment of hesitation, the man unlocks the cell door and Lily strides out with a posture that shouts both anxious and confident. She trusts that Kai will do his part well, but will always fear losing her family until she finally has them with her again. At least, that's how you decipher it.
She bites a puncture into her wrist, drawing blood. Kai steps forward to drink, flinching at the unexpected taste, but recovering quickly.
"You'll both have to learn to like this, if you're planning to turn," Lily lightly chides.
Kai pulls off as soon as he's consumed enough for it to take. As a rebuttal towards Lily's jeering tone, you immediately turn him towards you for a kiss. Blood on his lips seeps past yours. Iron tastes on both your tongues. Smirking into it, you pull back first and smile at him.
"Think we'll be okay," you reply. "Now are we doing this or not?"
(gen): scott mccall & theo raeken; melissa mccall & theo raeken
summary: theo doesn't know how to apologize, doesn't know where to begin. he seeks the comfort of a distant memory and latches on tight. melissa hears a scratch at her door. when she sees a dog, she lets him inside.
tags: pre-canon, post-canon, mentioned dread doctors, guilt, emotional baggage, mention of past suicide attempts
word count: 10.2k
10.11.09.
On one chilly, October morning, Melissa was startled by a scratch at her door. She had just sat down at the table with a bowl of cereal and had brought out her phone to check Facebook, promising to herself it’d be a slow day. For weeks, she’d been working nonstop, either in the hospital or on-call for emergencies, but today, she’d finally been given a full day off — no commitments. Scott had just left for school, boarding the Beacon Hills Middle School bus and sitting beside his best friend. She barely got her hug in before he was tripping out the door, laughing with excitement. Happiness looks good on her son; his first ten years of life brought its challenges, but he’s strong, optimistic, and she knows he’ll be okay.
But Melissa had only scrolled for about a minute when the first distraction came: a brief sound that made her groan in frustration, brain translating a scratch at the door to be a knock.
“One moment,” she called out. She set down her phone, then remembered she was at home. Not the hospital, to where she was mentally transported back for a second, but in her house, at her kitchen table. Melissa narrowed her eyes, glancing around the room. Just as she’s about to disregard it, it happens again. This time, though, more clearly. And it surprised her, because it wasn’t something she’d heard in years, and wasn’t something she thought she’d hear again: a scratch.
Like a dog.
More specifically, a dog at the door, scratching to be let back inside.
It was clear as day then, what the sound was. It had to have been a dog. Before Roxy died, she’d scratch at the door all the time, both inside and out. It was how she alerted them to her needs.
But Roxy died years ago — three years ago, to be exact — and there was no way she could be scratching now.
Then it happened again, the same sound.
With a disbelieving sigh, Melissa stood to check the door. She opened it with caution, anticipating anything, but was met with, in fact, a small, black dog.
“Hi,” she greeted after a moment of staring. “Are you lost or something?”
It gave a slow wag of the tail. Dark eyes peered up like it knew her, then she chided herself for that thought. Melissa doesn’t know any dogs, minus the neighbor’s shih tzu three houses down the street. She observed it; it watched her back.
“Do you want some water?” She finally asked, deciding it must be lost and running at large.
The dog lolled its tongue out in a yawn before inviting itself inside.
“Well… alright. Come one in.”
She filled a large bowl and set it down on a hand towel. As it drank, she determined it male, scrawny, and underweight. He drank for a solid minute, and when she threw him some leftover chicken from the night before, he gobbled it up within seconds. He had no collar and nor any other way to identify an owner, so Melissa debated with herself on what to do. At one point, she opened the door to see if he would run, but the dog stayed. She figured if he didn't leave today, she'd drive by the clinic next morning to scan him for a chip.
So with that plan, she let him stay for now, and the dog spent the day by her feet. Where she moved, he followed, always wagging his tail contentedly. Melissa found herself not minding his presence; she had wanted to be alone today, but the dog gave her company without speaking and she found herself enjoying it.
Around noon, when she went to put Scott’s laundry in his room, the dog still followed. He sniffed around the room before jumping up on the bed and laying down on the comforter. Melissa’s eyes went wide and she ordered him off, but he stayed, flashing her the gentlest puppy eyes that made her cave immediately. The dog looked almost sad at the demand, so she shrugged, figuring Scott wouldn’t mind too much. He seemed clean enough, and she knew how much he missed Roxy. Maybe a few stray black hairs would bring him an odd sort of comfort.
But when Melissa left the room, door open for when the dog was ready to leave, he bounced back down and followed her into the hallway. She shook her head, humored by his clinginess.
“Well, alright then,” she said, chuckling.
By four o’clock, the dog was still there. He was snoozing in the kitchen beside her feet when the door suddenly opened, Scott and Stiles letting themselves in with a clamor, continuing their conversation from the bus. At the sight of Scott’s mom, they quieted down to greet her.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, Ms. McCall.”
“Hi, boys! How was school?”
“Good. How was your day off?” Scott returned.
“It was very nice. Balanced relaxation and productivity, and I even found a friend.”
By now, the dog was awake and staring at the newcomers. Scott’s eyes widened. A smile crept onto his face.
“A dog?! Where?!”
“He scratched on the front door this morning. Been following me around all day.”
Scott took to his knees immediately to get closer. He reached out a tentative hand to let him sniff, then smiled wider as the dog’s tongue lolled out to lick him.
“Can we keep him? He doesn’t have a collar.”
“I don’t know, sweetheart. He might have someone looking for him. ‘Could’ve slipped out of his collar during a walk or gotten out when there was that thunderstorm last week. We’ll have to call the vet and see if they know of an owner. If not, then that’s a conversation we can have later, alright?”
“Okay!”
Stiles went home right before dinner. Stilinski picked him up at the door, but the dog made no effort to make his presence known to the newest guest. Instead, he stayed beside Scott in the kitchen, who hugged his best friend before he departed, and therefore didn’t feel the need to watch him leave. There, Scott was sitting with him on the cold tile floor, scratching his head gently while its eyelashes fluttered delicately over its closed eyes.
As they ate, the dog stayed under their table, begging just how Roxy used to do. Melissa knew Scott was sneaking him scraps, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be upset. Besides, the dog was skinny, and the smile on her son’s face over at the creature’s simple presence was much too great. Part of her feared he’d bond closely with the dog just for it to have an owner, but she couldn’t bear to separate them, either.
Instead, she joked, “if I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was only with me as he waited for you to get home.” Her boy smiled even wider.
The dog sat at his feet as he did his homework. His chin rested on his toes, holding Scott in place until his legs felt numb.
Hours later, Scott pleaded for an extended stay with the pup’s company. Roxy used to sleep at the end of his bed, but whenever Scott would pat the space beside him, she’d slowly creep up to the closer spot. By now, Melissa had confessed the dog had already been in his bed, leaving her less room to argue against his compelling case.
“Can he sleep with me? He has to sleep somewhere, and you said he’s already jumped in my bed. Besides, I always used to sleep better with her next to me.”
“I don’t know, Scott,” Melissa tried to dissuade. “We barely know this dog.”
“He was around you the whole time and was fine! I’ll leave my door open just in case.”
Again, Melissa caved easily. “Alright, sure. But make sure you let him sleep. Don’t touch him during the night.”
“I promise.” Scott turned to the dog. “Want to go outside one last time before bed? C’mon.” He brought him to the back door, sliding back the glass.
The dog licked his hand one more time. He looked up at Scott with wide, soulful eyes that suddenly sent a sharp pang to his heart, like the feeling you get seconds before everything changes. Before Scott could speak, it tiptoed out into the grass, then took off for the woods.
Theo didn’t want to leave. Not the first time, nor the second. Even if he stayed a “dog,” and all Scott and his mom ever knew him as was a “dog,” it was still better than not knowing him at all. Still, the Doctors let him out for two nights in L.A. Two nights of unmonitored, undisturbed time away from them, as a reward for his deeds towards their missions. He meant to spend that time downtown in the city, scrounging for love or food off the people on the streets like he usually did. He’d seek out gentle mothers, lonely men, or wandering students. As a human, he’d have a small conversation with them or sweet-talk his way into receiving a meal. As a coyote, he’d crawl submissively on his belly until someone gave him a quick pat on the head or threw him their leftovers. He never meant to go back to Beacon Hills, back to Scott. He didn’t even remember running there.
Quietly sitting beside Melissa after so many years of being apart felt like therapy. The woman was more of a mom to him than his own mom; even though Theo wasn’t as close to her as Stiles was, he always had a deep regard for her.
But Melissa was a nurse and she worked most of her life away trying to stay on top of bills. He honestly expected the house to be empty, and he’d break his way in with a claw or his teeth, take a nap on the couch, and leave, but she was home, and he couldn’t help but stay. Melissa talked quietly to him, under the impression he was nothing more than a stray dog. She told him about her day, her job, and her plans for dinner. She talked about Scott, and how the fourteen year old really should start doing his own laundry.
Melissa then opened the door to Scott’s room to deliver his clean, neatly folded clothes, and the smell of his old friend hit his nose strongly. Theo welcomed himself to sit up on his bed like he used to when they were kids. Melissa snapped and pointed at the ground, wanting him off, but Theo ignored her this time and stayed put. After a moment, she shrugged. He let the smell invade his senses, ingrain itself into his brain. Then she walked away and he followed.
Theo meant to leave before school ended. He didn’t even mean to be here at all.
But then Melissa began to hum as she cut vegetables for dinner and Theo found himself dozing off at her feet. He slept soundly — the best sleep he’d had in years, honestly — until the front door opened and his old friends came bounding down the hall.
Melissa greeted her boys and introduced him as a nameless, collarless, stray. He kissed Scott on the hand with a gentle lick of his tongue and tried to ignore the pleas with his mom to let him stay. He couldn’t, no matter how much he wanted. He didn’t belong to them; he belonged to the doctors. He belonged on their table, under their blade. Under the hostile, fluorescent lights that put a spotlight on his most important organs, giving them a clear view on which ones they want to take and break.
Theo grew nervous, later that night, when Scott asked to bring him to bed. The doctors expected him back tomorrow, and if he stayed one night, he knew it'd be impossible on them both to leave. Melissa started to reject it, then caved again. Theo understood; it’s hard to say no to Scott. But when that decision was made, he knew he had to go. He had to hurt him again. Disappear, again.
So when Scott opened the back door, he gave him one final, goodbye lick, then bolted from the home. Guilt emptied his stomach of the dinner he’d been given, but he didn’t stop running until he was back in L.A.
Melissa sits down to put on her shoes when she’s suddenly interrupted by a scratching sound. At first, she groans, mind automatically going to the attic, where she dealt with a family of possums two winters ago. Then, it scratches again, and she realizes it’s coming from the front door. Her rapid pulse settles just a little.
“One minute,” she calls out, figuring it’s probably something insignificant. Leaves brushing up against it from a gust of wind. A neighborhood kid scuffing his shoes against the cement porch. The delivery man having an unconventional way of letting people know their order’s arrived. Melissa slips on her shoes and walks towards the door. She opens it cautiously, just in case, and startles immediately.
It’s a dog.
Or. Maybe not a dog.
Not quite a wolf, but neither a dog.
Suddenly nervous, she shuts the door.
The dog whimpers. She sighs heavily, the sound tugging at her heart strings.
She opens it back up. “What?”
The dog lies down, belly on the welcome mat, as low as it can go. Submissive.
“I have to go to work,” she tells it uselessly. Melissa glances around it. “Where are your dog-parents? Do you have a collar?”
Nope, no collar.
No collar, no identifiable features, no distinct breed.
It’s a canine, she decides. Maybe it could pass for a husky, but she’s never known huskies to be all black.
Melissa glances at her watch. “Fine, I have ten minutes.”
She lets it inside.
If anyone were to ask, no, she has no idea why she let this random dog into her house. Scott’s at the vet for an early shift. Chris is meeting with some higher-up, supernaturally-informed detective that has been collecting information about the remaining hunters scattered all over the country. The rest of her son’s pack is either in high school or trickling back from college for summer vacation.
Yet she lets the dog inside and gives it a bowl of water.
Then stares at it.
Subconsciously, Melissa knows better than to stare at dogs, especially strays you’ve never met. Between her own knowledge of owning dogs and Scott’s information of wolf behaviors, many dogs take staring as a challenge. Some become aggressive.
This canine, however, doesn’t seem like it’ll show her any aggression. Even as it drinks, it stays submissive. Belly to the floor, tongue darting out to lap cautiously.
The reason Melissa stares is because it’s familiar. She swears it’s familiar. She’s seen this dog before, at some point, some time. In fact, she’s brought this dog in her house before, given it water. It’s on the tip of her tongue, like an old dream or distant memory.
“Do you have an owner?” She asks again.
The dog doesn’t reply. Of course.
“Sit if you have an owner.”
It stares. Maybe “owner” is the word it’s not recognizing.
“Do you have a home? Are you a stray? Do you know what I’m saying at all? Am I losing my mind?”
The dog shakes suddenly, and black hairs go flying everywhere. When she gives it a flat expression, she swears it looks guilty.
“Alright… I don’t have a crate, but I can’t leave you in my house alone. I have to go to work. Luckily, it’s cool outside, so you should be okay to go back out. I’ll leave the water on the porch, okay?”
She grabs a new bowl rather than the one it sits beside, just in case it protects its new resource. Melissa then grabs her coat, keys, and purse, along with the bowl, and walks to the door. It follows her outside, watches her lock the door.
“Good dog. Alright. Here’s some water. I have to go to work.”
It watches her walk to her car and insert her keys. Melissa focuses on starting the engine, and when she looks up again, it’s gone.
She blinks — sits with herself for a minute. Then shakes her head and pulls out of the driveway.
A week later, the dog is back. This time, she has an hour before work. Scott just left for the vet, and the dog scratches five minutes later. When she sees it at the door, she sighs.
“Again?"
It looks up at her.
"Alright, come in."
Another bowl of water. Another three minutes she watches in silence as it drinks.
Melissa then retreats to the kitchen. She grabs a takeout box of two-day old teriyaki chicken and throws a piece to the floor. The dog snatches it quickly, almost swallowing it whole. She gives it more, then resorts to setting the box down, hoping it's smart enough not to eat the styrofoam. Melissa steps back and nods to the abandoned food, and the dog takes the cue. Luckily, the chicken and rice is enough and it doesn't eat the box.
"You're definitely hungry," she observes. "Been on the run for a while?"
It looks up at her, licking its lips.
"Underweight. Male. Still not sure what breed you are."
It returns to the water for another drink.
"Pretty thirsty, too."
Suddenly, Melissa remembers what Scott told her about analyzing stray dogs. He said you could get an estimate of their age by looking at their teeth and check dehydration levels by lifting the skin between its shoulder blades and seeing how long it takes to settle back down.
Looking at this one, though, she isn't too keen on touching it's teeth nor it's back. It may appear as a dog, but Melissa also thinks there's something wild about it — something potentially dangerous, if she were to push its boundaries too far. So instead, she opts to watch it for a little bit longer and give it time to lie down. She'll leave the water on the porch when she has to go to work, and coax the dog back out with a slice of old pizza from dinner.
And that's what she does.
By the time she gets off work, it's gone.
But a week later, like clockwork, it returns.
Melissa's never been the best at remembering to eat leftovers before they go bad, but since the dog's been showing up, the fridge has been void of styrofoam boxes taking up all the space.
On the dog's fifth visit to her house, she feeds it by hand for the first time. Less saucy pieces from last night's alfredo chicken go straight from her palm to his mouth, and in that moment, Melissa gains two things: his trust and his approximate age. Based on Scott's studies, a dog's teeth that are still mostly white but with a little bit of plaque can be estimated around four to five years of age. At their closer distance, Melissa can also see the quality of its fur, and determine he isn't necessarily young, but certainly isn't old, either, so four or five seems like a pretty good guess to her.
"Is that right? Are you about five-ish? My son's the vet-to-be, not me. I work with sick humans, not sick dogs."
The dog blinks and Melissa can't tell if he's listening or not.
"Can I pet you?"
She holds the back of her hand out to his nose and feels relived when he sniffs. Progress, she decides. Because if this dog is coming in her house regularly, she'd like to be on good terms.
"That's good," she praises. "Good dog."
Melissa knows she'll be late for work if she stay any longer. She peeks at her watch, then back at him.
"I have to go to work again. Sorry. I'll bring your bowl outside."
Shoes on and door locked, dog on the porch with her, she tilts her head.
"Something about you is so familiar… Do you remember me?"
The dog goes from a sitting position to lying down. Belly down, staring up at her. Submissive.
Melissa only shakes her head. She feels crazy, talking to stray dogs.
"Be safe out there. Hope your owner isn't missing you. You seem like a good dog."
It departs the porch with her, but trots into the woods as she enters her car.
It's halfway through her shift when it hits her: she does know that dog!
The next time the dog shows up at her door, Melissa's ready. At the first scratch, she welcomes him in and sets down his water, then retrieves the last night's box of sweet and sour chicken and approaches confidently.
"You've been here before, remember?"
The dog stops drinking and peers up at her.
"Four or five years old, based on your teeth… And I have a vague memory of a black puppy visiting me on a day off from work about five years back. Could that have been you?"
He eyes the chicken — avoids eye contact with Melissa.
"Oh, I'm not that easy. I've been talking this whole time, I'm gonna need some answers from you." He blinks. "Can you speak?"
He stares at her, licking his lips and drooling from one side of his mouth.
"Speak!" She tries again. "Or talk. I think huskies know 'talk' better. Do you talk?"
He sniffs the air. Even scooches a bit closer, but doesn't open his mouth.
"C'mon… I know you're smart! You've visited this house before, five years ago. There's no way the scent's not familiar."
Well… it might not be familiar, considering her son's been turned into a werewolf since then, and he likely has picked up a somewhat different scent due to that. But this dog still should be smart enough to know it's been here before! She just knows he has to have recognized her to come back. If not by sight or scent, than at least from the memory of being given water and let inside. Not many of her neighbors would let a dog they've never met into their home, yet Melissa has done it several times now.
"Speak, and I'll give you chicken, I promise!"
He sneezes — a dainty little sound — then finally tries out his voice. It's a low, subvocal whine that barely passes his lips, but it's something!
She gushes over it. With a controlled, "yay!" that isn't too loud to scare him, she rewards him with chicken, then grabs another piece. "Speak!"
And it's the second sound that makes her decide he must be a husky mix, because he barks out a clear "woof" that she's only heard from huskies in those funny video compilations, and it makes her laugh.
"Good! There you go!"
When a third, unprompted bark echoes through the first floor, Melissa offers the whole plate of food, setting it down gently before him with a great deal of trust. The mix-breed wastes no time scarfing down the meal, but does so this time with a wag of his tail that Melissa believes to be thankful. She grabs her coffee mug from the kitchen counter and watches him eat, then retreats to the table to sit for a moment. The dog follows as soon as he's finished. He nudges her leg for the cup, but she laughs.
"This you can't have. This is my coffee, which I really need in order to wake up, and has probably way too much caffeine for you."
He nudges a second time anyway, and without much thought, she reaches out to pet his head. The dog allows it, stilling under her hand.
Ever since she recognized him, the dog's been coming over more frequently than just once a week, but Melissa no longer has reservations about letting him in to spend their mornings together. His company is pleasant and his personality is quite fun, once she gets to know him better. The dog, who she still has yet to name, has come out of his shell just enough to let her know he trusts her and Melissa can't help but argue that she misses having a dog around the house. Granted, she hasn't taken on responsibility of him, but his occasional presence has been fulfilling without being burdensome.
But it's for that reason that Melissa has yet to tell Scott of his visits. She knows her son will get attached the minute he meets the dog — he's always been a dog person and has always wanted another since the death of their last dog. Time, money, and tragedy have kept them from that, but this dog seems independent enough that maybe they can give it a home without fully adopting it. After all, every time Melissa leaves for work, it returns to the woods. Maybe it doesn't want a home, either. Maybe it seeks a friend.
It's now the middle of summer, and Melissa senses a distant clash in scheduling between her two housemates. Scott's busy between his friends and the clinic, and his reappearances to their home is random at best. The dog's typical one-day a week return has recently been upped to multiple days, and it's only a matter of time before the two show up on the porch at the same time, so Melissa figures it's a good time to confess to semi-adopting a dog over the last month. She knows her son would never be upset about it, but maybe disappointed he wasn't told sooner. Though she'll explain and he'll understand. He always understands eventually.
So the next time Melissa gets a half-day and Scott arrives home early, she makes a plan to tell him. Only — as soon as he comes home, he walks in soaked and confused, and Melissa can only stare as he kicks off his shoes in a hurry.
"What's up, Scott? What happened to your shoes?"
He looks up, as if not expecting her to be home.
"Hospital gave me a half-day. Said I needed a break."
"Oh. Good. You do deserve a break." His tone's heavy with empathy; he's always had a reputation of being kind.
"Thank you. Yeah, I, uh, I'm glad we're both off, because I kinda wanted to bring something up with you."
He finally kicks off his wet shoe to reveal an equally wet sock. "Oh. What is it?"
"What happened to your shoes, buddy? Did you step in a puddle?"
"No, I tripped… Tripped over that dog bowl you keep on the porch. Which, I meant to ask, is that a new thing?"
A lightbulb goes off in Melissa's head.
"Oh! Sorry about that! Yes, that is a new thing. And that's actually what I wanted to talk about, because, well… There's a dog."
Scott stops. He stares at her, one foot raised awkwardly in the air. "What do you mean 'a dog'? A dog here?"
"Yeah. Kind of. Do you—" She squints. "Do you remember, like, four or five years ago when that dog visited our house? I had a day off and you were in school, but then you came back, tried to take it up to bed, and it… Ran away…?"
Scott pauses, thinking deeply.
"It was a black dog," Melissa supplies. "Puppy-ish."
"Wait… Yes! Wait… The same dog? It's back? Are you sure?"
"I'm like… Ninety-nine percent sure. He's all black, still. I looked at his teeth, like you told me, and they were a little plaque-y, but mostly still white. Fur isn't baby-soft, but there isn't any gray, either. And he does the same stuff the puppy did. He scratches on the door to be let in, drinks water, then stares at me for food… sits beside me after I feed him. And I realize a lot of dogs probably do that in unfamiliar houses, but this dog's just so familiar. I swear it's the same one."
"That's crazy! What— What've you been feeding him?"
"Leftovers, mostly."
"Is that why there's less food in the fridge lately?"
"Yeah."
Scott nods. "Does Argent know?"
"No," she admits.
"Why… Haven't you told him?"
"I… Don't know… To be honest." She shrugs. "I guess… He's here before I leave for work, and never after, and I just… Haven't considered telling him. Y'know, Chris leaves early, and then you leave a little later, and the dog gets here right in that window between you guys leaving and me having to leave…"
"Have you named him?"
She frowns. "Nope."
"Have you checked for a microchip?"
"Nope."
Scott squints.
"He doesn't have a collar. Took him a while to take food from my hand. Doesn't seem to know any commands. Took him forever to get him to 'speak' the other day. I really think he's just a stray, Scott."
"But how does the same stray end up on our doorstep twice, five years apart?"
"I don't know… Maybe he was here as a pup, got lost, and… Recognized our house?"
"That—"
"I know it doesn't make sense. But I don't know what else to say about it."
Scott thinks for a moment. "Do you think we could try to check for a chip? If I give you the scanner? Or if I don't leave early, maybe he'll still come?"
"We can try."
"Okay."
Scott stays home late for a week. The dog never comes. He and Melissa leave at the same time after each failed attempt, both late for work.
The following morning, Scott leaves at his usual time.
Ten minutes after he's gone, Melissa hears a scratch at the door.
"So he only comes to you… He knows when I'm there and won't come if he smells me."
"What would a dog not like with you, Scott? You're great with dogs."
"Unless it's my scent he doesn't like."
"Or maybe he knows you're trying to find his owner and he wants to live with us," Melissa jokes.
Her son looks at her with a face full of surprise. "You like him enough to keep him?"
She shrugs. "I like his company. It's nice. Chris is away so often and you've been working so much… I don't mind having a dog around while I get ready to leave."
"I thought you didn't want another dog?"
"I didn't… Well, we've been so money-tight the last few years, but now we're a little more stable. And you being away in college is a bit lonely…"
Scott doesn't know what to think. He isn't opposed to keeping a dog, of course not; he just didn't expect his mom to want to keep a stray that scratches on her front door from time to time.
Finally, he nods. "If I give you the scanner, can you try to check him? If he has no chip, I'm all for it… If he doesn't keep running away. Have you ever tried to leave him in the house?"
"No… I wanted you to know about it before I tried that… Just in case he eats all our furniture and you come home thinking there was a break-in."
Her son chuckles at that. "Maybe if he doesn't have a chip, we can try to keep him in the house." He ties his shoes. "And maybe we should tell Argent, too, about the new family member. He might want to know if there's another man in your life he should be worried about."
Melissa laughs. She smiles wide. She needed that laugh — her son's humor. She's missed him so much.
"I'll try to scan him. I just push this button, right?"
"Yeah, push that, and then scan it over his body. If he's chipped, it'll catch it, beep, and spit out a number. Write it down or take a picture, because it's pretty long."
"Got it. Looking for a number."
Scanning the dog does not go as planned.
The first part was easy, of course: the dog came to her, drank and ate her offers, and then sat down next to her while she sipped her coffee. But then, Melissa started to sweet talk him as a distraction while moving the tool over his body. As soon as he noticed it, he began to wiggle away from her — not biting, but crying and squirming and shying away. Melissa talked sweeter and softened her voice. He started to calm, but then the scanner beeped and he practically flew out of the kitchen and straight to the front door.
She didn't chase him. Instead, she looked down at the scanner that definitely caught a tag, but rather than displaying a set of numbers, it read an error code that made her frown. The dog whimpered a bit more. She opened the door to let him go, not wanting to hold him against his will. He raced into the woods faster than she'd ever seen him go.
"An error code doesn't make any sense. Either he's chipped or he's not. Even if the tag was never registered, it should still display a number."
"This is what I got," Melissa insists. "It was in his shoulder, too. I know you said chips can travel, but that seems like a far distance from the back."
"It is…"
"Well, we're not going to get a second chance. That beep terrified him. I don't even know if he'll be back."
"I'm sorry, Mom."
She stops him, guilt all over his face. "Hey… Not your fault. It was the right thing to check. You didn't know it would scare him."
"I'm going to ask Deaton about the error code. Maybe he knows more about it than we do."
And as Scott told Deaton, Melissa told Chris, and both of the informed had their own theories about the mysterious code and the dog to whom it may belong.
Deaton suggested it could be a hunting dog of some kind and the tag could be traceable to a GPS scanner, but not a microchip scanner. He wasn't too confident about his theory, but it made more sense than a failed scanner relaying an error.
Chris, on the other hand, proposed it could be a tracking device of another kind; perhaps something more nefarious than a GPS. A hunting dog, but a hunter's hunting dog — not the type used to catch birds or squirrels. A wolf-hunting hunting dog. It would make sense, going into Scott's home, but avoiding Scott himself.
But while Chris' theory could be plausible in a town like Beacon Hills, Melissa argued the dog was way too skittish to be used as a weapon. He got scared by the sound of the dump-truck across the street and the beep of the toaster when it was finished. He was also way too underfed to be anyone's dog, if their goal is to use him for personal gain.
And all the while that they discuss, the dog still refuses to come to anyone except Melissa.
It waits for her to be the only one home, then greets her like a pet she's known for years. He speaks when she asks, wags his tail when he eats, and follows when she leaves the room — even if she's coming right back in just a moment. It's almost as if he's a hunting dog reject that looks to her for care and avoids anyone that might return him.
So that's why it's easy for her to bond to him. He trusts her and she values that.
A week of failed attempts has passed, and summer's growing hotter and louder, and Melissa's dog is getting to a healthier weight, but he's still fearful of any noise made that isn't made by her.
(By this point, she's nicknamed him, "Buddy" because Chris asked her not to name him [to avoid getting attached — too late] and because she isn't quite sure what else to call him anyway. He doesn't look like a Buddy — that's a Golden Retriever name, not a name for a Husky mix — but it's a good enough placeholder for her until she can think of something better.)
Today in particular is both hot and loud, though, and despite Chris' fear of the dog being a hunting tool, Melissa locks him in her house for the day to keep him in the air conditioning. After all, it's Independence Day, and fireworks are going to be heard all the way from L.A., and she knows he'll be frightened by all that noise. So, at the time she usually takes him and his bowl outside, she instead walks out without him, pets him on the head, and says, "you be good, Buddy, I'll be back this afternoon."
And to her surprise, he did great in the house all by himself. Per the look of her couch, he likely slept all day and relaxed in the comforts of a home. When Melissa returned, he immediately bowed in submission to her presence and let her pet his head.
"Good boy, for not eating the house."
She throws him a piece of chicken. He catches it easily.
"It's gonna be loud today, okay? And I know you're not a fan of people, but hear me out..."
He cocks his head and she really believes he's listening.
"It's super duper hot outside, which is why I kept you inside today, and temps aren't going down throughout the night. Between the heat and the fireworks, I don't really wanna let you out there tonight, so I'm wondering… If you'd stay in the basement for the night, and I'll give you a couple blankets in case you're a nester, and shut off the lights and I won't let any of the kids bother you, okay? Only if you want to. I understand if you have a real home and don't want to be here, but if you don't, I wanna see if you'll stay."
Melissa waits for a response for over a minute, then remembers she's talking to a dog. Awkwardly, she gets up and opens the basement door. Buddy looks at it. She walks to the front, then opens that door. He still stares.
"I need a translator," she mutters. Then, louder, "c'mere, Buddy."
The dog meets her at the front door.
"You wanna go out?"
It's sweltering hot, so she can't blame him for not wanting to leave. He's been in the A.C. all day. Of course he's not going anywhere.
Then, an early-bird somewhere in the distance lets a firework off early, and the dog panics. With an ear piercing sound of nails on the hardwood floor, he scrambles back and hurries to the kitchen, finding security in the first place he learned to trust Melissa. She shuts the door.
"That's okay." Now, she flicks on the basement light. "How about down here?"
And at the same time, Scott's motorcycle pulls up in the driveway, and the dog wastes no time going down into the darkness.
Melissa hasn't exactly told anyone about her frequent, new visitor, but honestly, she didn't think it was that important. The pack, though, has a number of questions about the mysterious dog that she didn't expect, and frankly, can't answer, leading to them all having just as much information that they had when they started asking: zilch.
Zero. Nothing. Nothing more than Melissa knows, anyway.
He's all black, five years old, and probably a husky. He has a RFID tag that can't be scanned with a typical microchip scanner. He doesn't like anyone but Melissa.
Just as a warning, Melissa does tell them that he's in the basement, but asks no one to disturb him unless they absolutely must go down there. Considering the pack's planning to be only outside with a couple of sparklers tonight, she's not too worried about it. She's given Buddy a nest of blankets and the option of Roxy's old, rusty crate, door open. He has his water bowl and a bone she picked up on the way home from work.
All day, he's been quiet. Behaved. Just how Roxy used to be.
When Scott was a kid, they'd put her away when his friends came over to visit. She wasn't bad, but not all parents trust dogs around their kids and Melissa respects that. Roxy was a working breed and occasionally she would herd them, so it was easier on her and Melissa to only let her herd Scott instead of a bunch of kids at once.
But she was a good dog. Playful, happy, protective.
She died before her time was up — taken way too soon. It broke Scott. Hurt them both. That's why they haven't had another dog since.
It pains Melissa that this dog can't seem to trust her son. She hopes time will change that.
Hours later, the night draws to a close for the pack and plans are being made on who's driving whom home, and when they'll all see each other next. Just before Mason loads four people up into his tight Toyota Corolla, he approaches Melissa and asks for a minute alone — just a career question, nothing serious. He's been considering the health and science pathway for some time now; it's nothing out of the ordinary.
But when they leave the room and enter the kitchen instead, Mason makes sure nothing can be heard over the commotion and takes a deep breath. His hands are shaking slightly and he doesn't have an excuse for it.
"Hey… I know you said to only go to the basement if we really have to, but we were out of drinks and Scott said there were more down there so I went. I was only there for like a minute, but…" He glances back. "Look, I don't know how to tell you this, but I saw your dog, and he was fine, he didn't do anything, but to me, I don't know, it looked more like a wolf."
"A wolf? No, it's too small for a wolf."
"The eyes were different. But not only that, but I swear to you, it looked like Theo."
Melissa visibly swallows. Her eyes widen fearfully.
"I've only seen him shifted once, but that one time was pretty up close. I can't be positive, but I wouldn't tell you if I wasn't at least sixty percent sure."
"Hold on. So you think Theo—" she doesn't even say his name, only mouths it out, "—is the dog in my basement? That isn't possible, he's been coming by for months. Scott would've known."
"I know he can hide his scent. Alter it. He didn't look dangerous to me now, but I just want you to know."
The woman takes a deep breath, eyes closing for a moment.
"Thank you for letting me know. This— um— I'm— I'm going to need to handle this… I need some time. But thank you, Mason. Be safe going home."
"I will. You, uh, you be safe, too."
"Thanks. Hey, and do you mind seeing if Malia can take Scott home with her for a little? I need to do this alone, because I'm the only one this dog will come to, and if you're right, I can't have Scott here."
Melissa opens the basement door and calls for Buddy. She's locked the front and the back, trapping herself inside regardless if it gets ugly. She hasn't told Scott, nor Chris, and doesn't plan to until she finds out the truth. When 'Buddy' comes up the stairs, she's at the table, head in her hands. He nudges her leg.
"Hey."
He nudges again, her lack of enthusiasm apparently not sufficient.
Melissa looks over at him. His tail wags.
He doesn't look like a wolf to her, despite what Mason said. Melissa knows wolves; hell, her son is one. But this one's too small, too delicate. It doesn't have the build of a wolf, nor the bark.
Though, upon closer inspection, it doesn't really look like a dog, either. Husky, maybe. German Shepherd, possibly. But nothing purebred, and if anything, it could be some wolf-dog hybrid. A mixed breed. A combination of something wild and something domestic. Something that lives in the woods and something that lives in a home.
Melissa straightens.
That's exactly how this "dog" lives. Half alone, half with her. Not quite stray, not quite home.
And that's how Theo lived: half on his own; half owned.
And that's what Theo is: a mix breed. Half wolf. Half coyote.
Melissa can see it now — the softer features that identify a coyote. The skittishness, the bark.
Her mouth feels dry. Too dry to talk.
She forces it out anyway: "Theo."
She expected either panic or confusion. Panic, if Mason was right; confusion, if he were wrong. Because panic would mean Melissa found out his secret and exposed him for yet another lie. Confusion would mean everything was coincidence and this really was a stray dog.
What she did not expect, however, was for the dog to lie down where it sat, sinking to the floor until it physically could not go any lower. She did not expect its ears to lay so flat they become almost absent, and for the tail to tuck under its body, and for the dog to intentionally make itself look so small, any bigger dog will immediately know its submissive.
All she can do is stare.
Because if he were a dog, he would have no reason to feel guilt. He hadn't eaten her couch nor peed on the floor. No. He was guilty because he was not a dog and he knows it, yet he had been playing as one for months in Melissa's lone company, refusing to show himself to anyone else.
And that kind of scares her. Because she doesn't know why.
She's used to premeditation when it comes to Theo, but she's used to it being followed up by an evil plan. But entering her home in his shifted form just to hang out… Melissa can't identify the goal. Did he want to catch her off guard? Gain her trust just to betray it?
Melissa looks down at him, but he still won't look up. He looks so small, it almost gives her a sick satisfaction. Almost. Because as evil as Theo can be, she remembers he's also just a boy. And the reason he knows how to make himself look so small is because he learned the hard way to do so.
That's why the woman stands suddenly.
Theo lifts his head just barely enough to see her — follow her movements, watch where she's going.
She goes to the laundry room and picks out a pair of Scott's clothes. She throws them at him and walks to the kitchen, behind the counter, and makes a snack. For this conversation, she needs some protein. Something to give her strength.
Theo knows better than to run. She barely heard him as he shifted and changed, so she startles a little when he's now a teenaged boy looking lost in her house. He approaches with caution and sits himself in a stool in front of the kitchen counter.
For a minute, they both stare at the other in silence.
Then, "what the hell are you doing, Theo?"
"I— I don't know."
"Clearly, you do. You've been doing it for months. Whatever "it" is…"
"I know—"
"Then what? Why are you in my house? Why are you a wolf in my house? Why do you only come when I'm alone? Were you ever going to tell me?!"
"I don't know. To be honest, I didn't think that far ahead."
"Bullshit. You think everything through."
"Not this. Melissa, I swear! I just wanted— I didn't—"
"Wanted what?"
"What?"
"What did you want? You started to say it."
He takes a deep breath, eyes trained on the granite counter top. "I don't know— It's stupid."
"You—"
"I wanted you to trust me."
"—said—" She stops. "Wait, what?"
"I don't— I'm not good at— I don't have— I don't know. I'm sorry."
She stares at him, one eyebrow raised. He looks up cautiously.
"You can't keep starting sentences and ending them with 'I don't know', because again, clearly you do know, you just don't want to talk."
The woman now notices the change in his eyes. Red, but not like an alpha's. Red and sore. Heavy. Wet, as tears start to form at the edges. Melissa finds herself softening without wanting to.
"You should hate me, and I'm glad you do. I deserve it. But I'm selfish, and stupid, and I know it's wrong, but I wanted you— I wanted your trust— because you're a mom. You're Scott's mom, and that's why I don't deserve you, but that's why I wanted… I'm so lost, and I don't know where to go or what to do, and I shouldn't even be here, but every time I try to do something, I get interrupted, or kidnapped, so I've given up on trying, and… I always felt safe here, with you, when I was a kid. I wanted that again, but I knew I had fucked up too much as myself, but I remembered, you let me in once, I was hoping you would again. Just— just one more time. But then one visit turned into two, three, four, and I couldn't stop, because you just felt… peaceful. Which again, I know I don't deserve, but I can't help but want it anyway. But taking advantage of you— making you think I was something good— I'm sorry for that. I'm really sorry. I won't come back. You won't have to see me again, I promise. I'll try again, I'll do something else. I'll figure it out."
"Okay— Theo?" Melissa panics slightly. Never had she seen him such a blubbering mess. Never so honest, so open. Never fragile.
He looks up, tears not yet falling, but threatening.
"Look… I don't hate you. I am really, really disappointed in the person you've become, but I can't hate you… Not knowing that one day, a long time ago, I knew you as just a boy. My son's friend, not his killer." He looks down again, but Melissa snaps to get his attention back. "And I can't say that it doesn't scare me… That you were able to transform into a whole dog and masquerade as a family pet for months while simultaneously avoiding every person except me in my family… But… I see where you're coming from. Knowing even just a small fraction of what you've been through, I can see the appeal of that kind of comfort, even if it's false."
Theo's having trouble keeping eye contact. He squeezes his eyes shut for a break, and Melissa sees a tear slip down his cheek. It's painful, but it's necessary. It's consequences.
"I hid from Scott because I can't face him," he admits carefully. "Not that facing you is any easier, but with Scott… It's different. I also—"
"You also what?"
"I couldn't face him as a wolf, let alone as a human. I'd already hurt him once, I didn't want to do it again."
"What do you mean by that? Hurt him once which time?"
He swallows, another nerve struck. "The first time."
"The time you disappeared?"
Theo blinks. Miserable. "Okay, I guess the second time."
"Which was…?"
"The first time I was here."
"I'm gonna need a few more words, Theo. Drop the first and second stuff. Tell me straight."
"You said it yourself I was familiar," he explains. "That's because I have been here before, and not just as a kid. As a wolf… A newly-turned wolf."
The memory comes back instantly. Not only Melissa questioning Theo on his familiarity months back, but years ago, when he visited them as a young pup.
"So that was you?"
He nods. "We were in L.A., and I impressed the doctors with something I did, and they let me have a day in the city without their supervision. I didn't intend to come here, but I ended up here anyway, and you were off work and let me inside. I just wanted to catch his scent so I could feel safe again, but then he came home and wanted me to stay, but… I had to go back to the doctors, otherwise they would've hunted me down, and likely would've hurt you had they found out where I was.
But I didn't want to leave you. Didn't want to leave Scott, but I couldn't stay. And then when I came back months ago, I knew I couldn't stay again because this is not my home, so I chose not to see Scott, so I wouldn't have to hurt him every time I left again."
Melissa feels a mixed bag of emotions. Out of all of them, she thinks she feels a startling sense of heartbreak the most. Theo's just a kid who's never made a right decision in his life. He thinks he knows how to do the least amount of damage when he's actually doing the most. He was never taught the right way to live nor how to treat people. He was never told just how fragile a heart can be, and that when you drop it, it's hard to repair.
"You're the closest thing I've ever had to a mom, and I know that's selfish of me to say, but I need to say it. I'm sorry for scaring you. I truly didn't think about the future when I started coming here, I guess I just wanted to see if I could."
Melissa's gaze grows sad. She lowers herself onto her elbows and rests her head in her hands. "What are you going to do if you're not coming here? Do you have a plan for where you'll go?"
"Not really."
"What did you say about 'trying something'?" He swallows hard. "Is that something I should be worried about, or are you talking about trying to leave the county, or state?"
"I— I don't know."
"You can't go that route, Theo. You can leave Beacon Hills. You can leave California. But you can't leave your life. You're worried about hurting Scott? What do you think that'll do to him?"
Another tear falls from his glossy green eyes.
"I don't know what else to do."
"Anything else." She reaches for his hand across the counter, strokes his palm with her thumb. Desperacy hits her hard — the reality of the situation. "Stay here," she decides. "For real this time."
Finally, he looks up at her. "What?"
"You gained my trust as a wolf… I'm willing to gain your trust as a human. Look, this might not be easy, especially not at first, but I'll sacrifice my comfort to make sure you're gonna be okay. There's a spare room down the hall. I will talk to Scott and Argent in the morning, but I know the latter will be harder to convince than the former."
Theo seems hesitant. More guilt, she knows. "Melissa… I don't think you understand what you're offering. I can't stay here with you and Scott. You'll never be able to sleep well knowing I'm in the house."
She sighs. "If you wanted to hurt us, you would've by now. I trust that. Right now, you're too vulnerable to be on your own. You need a place and I have a spare. Just don't let me be wrong in this decision. Prove to me you've changed."
Finally, he nods. "Okay. I will. Thank you."
Melissa gives him a small smile. She rounds the corner to hug him and he buries her face in the crook of her arm. At last, he lets those tears go.
"Scott may actually be relieved… He's been worried about your wolf's microchip for weeks… Frustrated he can't find your owners."
Into her shirt, he mutters, "my owners are dead."
"And you've been on your own since?"
He nods. She nods, too, understanding.
"Quick question… Did they actually microchip you? Because a pin came up but it had no number."
"Uh… Kind of… They implanted a tracker that could find me through specific radio waves that they often channeled. 'Ts why I was so afraid to stay that first time… Knew they could find me. Running away wasn't an option."
She finds herself kissing his forehead. "No one's tracking you anymore… If you're gonna stay with me, you're gonna be safe… I just need to know you're safe, too."
He nods again. "I promise. I won't hurt you again… Either of you. And I promise not to hurt myself, too."
"That's good. I like those promises." She smiles. "Spare's down the hall, across from Scott's. That okay?"
Theo's still asleep by the time Scott comes home from Malia's in the morning. The two friends, to lovers, back to friends spent most of the night talking and rating distant fireworks, and when Scott gets back, he looks like he could sleep for days. Before he gets too far, though, Melissa stops him. She wears that pensive look on her face that always means she's thinking. She stands by the kitchen sink, dog bowl mixed in with the dirty dishes. Scott tilts his head in confusion.
"Is Buddy gone?"
"Yeah. Found his owner."
"Wait, really? Did you meet them? Are they nice?"
She clasps her hands together. "Yep. But no, and no."
His eyebrows furrow in confusion.
"His owners are dead," his mom explains, "but they weren't nice. Not to him, and not to anyone, really."
"Oh. Wait, so, then… Where is he, then?"
"So… Buddy isn't really who he told me he was. I mean, he's a dog, but he's not really a dog." She laughs nervously. "And I didn't even actually realize it, but when it was pointed out to me, it really freaked me out." His mom softens. Her shoulders relax. "But then Buddy and I had a talk… An honest one. One that… Revealed a lot. One that made promises. And if it's okay with you — and if it's not, I can find other arrangements — Theo's going to be staying with us, just until he finds some solid footing. Because what he did wasn't right, but it was desperate, and I can't hate him for it. And I don't think you would, either."
Scott blinks. "Theo?! Theo is Buddy…?"
"As pointed out to me last night by Mason, yep, Theo has been the dog I've been feeding leftovers to every other day since the beginning of May. Isn't that something?"
"Wait, so… He's staying here?"
"Only if that's okay with you. I offered it, but I can find something else if you're not comfortable. I just… I can't leave him where he is. He's on his own and he's not ready for that. He needs a bit of normalcy before he can move on, both mentally and physically, and that's what he was searching for as a wolf… He didn't think he would find it as a human, which… I agree. If he showed up here human first, I would've turned him away. But now… I'm making the decision to trust him and he is trusting me." After a second, she adds, "as long as you're okay with it."
"Yeah… I'm okay. I'm just getting over the shock…"
"If it fills in any blanks for you, it was him, too, way back when you were in middle school and I had a day off. But he confessed that this time around, he didn't want to see you, because he had to leave you then, and knew he couldn't do it again each time he'd leave now."
"He was the pup?"
"His RFID tag is a real tracker," she also reveals. "But instead of being scanned like a microchip, it's traced through a specific radio signal. He said the doctors used it to find him. When he visited that day, he was given a day off, but knew if he stayed with us, it would be dangerous for us all."
Scott's eyes are full of emotion. "Where is he?"
"Sleeping in the spare."
"Is he okay?"
"He's tired. Last night was pretty heavy; he told me a lot. He hasn't gotten great sleep in a while, either, and has been mostly surviving off the leftovers I'd been feeding him. He's okay, but it'll take him some time to adapt to real normalcy."
Scott smiles softly. "Good." He chuckles. "I didn't even know he could shift into a full wolf."
"I did not know that either. He definitely looks more coyote, though, on closer inspection. He'll have to show you when he wakes up."
The boy smiles wider. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, kiddo."
"Do you have the day off?"
"I took the day off. Just to make sure he's settling in okay."
He nods. "I'm gonna sleep for a few hours, too. I'll see you guys soon."
"Okay. You sleep well. I'll be thinking about how I'm gonna tell Chris." She lets out a nervous laugh, but then a normal one. It'll be okay. They'll all be okay.
summary: before the game, you have to see a "teacher" to talk about a "grade" — or at least that's what you tell your friends.
tags: high school au (everyone's over 18), cheerleader x shy kid trope, making out, smut, some fluff, fingering, vaginal sex, sneaking around, small mention of sexual force/pressure from an ex
word count: 2.7k
a/n: I have a confession… I wrote this over a year ago and I'm just now posting it. For some reason, in the time I've been basically absent from both Tumblr and Ao3, I developed this weird feeling about posting that made me linger on the 'publish' button long enough to talk myself out of releasing a lot of things. While a lot of my absence was genuine writers' block, some of it was also that weirdness, which was stuff like "waiting for the right time" or "when to post for a certain show or character", until it hit me that that's really stupid and there are no rules and I can literally post anything at anytime. But for some reason, I was struggling with that. (I think a lot of it was joining the teen wolf fandom and writing for it, too, which took time away from tvd.) Now upon realizing how crazy that sounds, I'm trying to kick it and just post whenever I finish a work for anyone. Hopefully, from now on the biggest wall between me and posting returns to being unable to think of a good title (aside from the occasional lack of focus) and I can get back to more regular (although sporadic across characters) posting. <3
In regards to this fic in particular, I thought it up while hyperfixating on the Jack-in-the-Box incident from 1992, and somehow my googling expanded to restaurants on the West Coast, and then Portland, and then I found myself researching the one I mentioned in the fic. I have absolutely no idea how the thought train derailed that hard (again, I wrote this a year ago), but I do know it ended with writing this silly little piece.
You tap your heel on the ground nervously, anxious to get back to the school. The chatter around you escalates as your friends, blissfully unaware, begin to rave about something that happened in fourth period. You check your watch: five o’clock. The game starts in two hours — plenty of time to run an errand. So, the next opportunity you see, you slide out of the booth and stand, smoothing out your pleated skirt. Excited voices cease at your sudden movement; your friends all turn to look.
“Hey, where are you going? We still have time,” your closest friend and teammate asks.
“Oh, I just remembered I have to meet with a teacher at 5:30.”
“But it’s a game night,” another argues.
“It’ll be quick. I just need to go over a grade. Math,” you add, earning sympathetic nods.
“Okay. Meet you in the lockers after?”
“Of course.”
You hurry back to the school. Luckily, the drive from the restaurant isn’t long. Plus, there’s a back road you can take to avoid the traffic on the main road. When you pull up, the parking lot is still almost as full as it was when school let out for the day. Game nights always attract a big crowd, so most of those that went home are super busy teachers or extremely uninterested students. Even some of the nerdier types seemed to have stayed. Speaking of which, you make a mental note of Jo Parker’s classic SUV before making your way inside.
As jam-packed as the parking lot is, the school itself is rather empty. Students either wait for the game in the library or the locker rooms, or in cases like you and your friends, the local restaurants. It’s a quick eight minute walk from the school to the nearest Roake’s — a Portland staple, and currently, the habitation of nearly thirty of your fellow classmates. Twenty minutes prior to the start of the game, they’ll start to migrate back over, giving you — you check your watch again — about an hour for your meeting. That should be enough time… As long as your teacher doesn’t try to hold you back longer.
You check your surroundings first, then start down the hallway. Walking these floors is like muscle memory. You’re a senior this year, and have been at this school for four years now. You know where everything is and all of the building’s secrets. Like for example, the closet to your left is no longer the one they use to store the cleaning supplies. They only maintain it to keep students out. You chuckle at their thought process and have to give it to them for trying. When you’re certain no one’s looking, you slip through the door.
The light inside is dim enough that you can see the stuff around you. Boxes filled with storage items and some leftover cleaning products are stacked neatly throughout the room. The narrow walkway and the wall to the left of the door are clear, mostly for fire safety purposes. You take a step back, check your watch a third time, then sigh.
“Hey.” A clear, but gentle voice comes out from behind you. You jump, startled, but then familiar hands grab onto your waist and spin you around.
As soon as you get a look at him, you give him a playful punch. “Oh my god, you scared me!”
He laughs. “Sorry, baby. What were you doing?”
“Checking to make sure the coast was clear. How long have you been in here?”
“Like five minutes,” Kai shrugs. “It was difficult to get away from Jo. I’m lucky she has a crush on #12, or else she would’ve made us go home.”
You snort. “My friends were suspicious, too. Told them I had to talk about a grade.”
“Look at you becoming a little white liar,” he smiles, then allows himself a glance up and down your body. “Have I ever mentioned how much I love this uniform?"
“You can’t wrinkle it or they’ll be even more suspicious.” Kai licks his lips, still eyeing you like prey. “Kai, I’m serious.”
“I know, I heard you. No wrinkles.” He trails a finger down your skirt. It’s short, way too short for school standards, yet somehow acceptable for sports. In a matter of seconds, the soft pads of his finger meet your skin, sending shivers throughout your body. “I can still touch, right?”
“Of course. But you gotta kiss me first.”
He only smirks before immediately bringing his attention to your lips. He grazes them with his own before pressing down gently. Your hands dig into his hair, asking for more, which he happily delivers. Kai’s hands explore your body, cupping your cheeks, feeling your breasts, holding your waist. He licks your lower lip with your tongue when you break apart for a moment to breathe. You’re panting heavily in no time, and he moves his head down to suck on your neck.
“No hickies before the game,” you warn.
“You’re no fun.”
“Kai.”
“I promise I won’t.” He moves back up to your lips instead.
You smile into the kiss. As troublesome as Kai can be, he listens every time you tell him no. He’s a far cry from the last guy you used to date — an undisciplined jock, a head-pusher, and a blatant misogynist. In fact, a closet date gone wrong is how you met Kai. He heard you struggling against him after school hours, and interrupted what could’ve turned really ugly. If crappy #19 hadn’t been cheating off of Kai in math class, he would’ve gotten away scot-free, but the quiet kid had some blackmail against him that he used to his advantage. You then started falling for the guy that quickly became your best friend. Your admittance of feelings was an accident, but as it turns out, he’d had a crush on you forever.
“The cheerleading outfit is a plus,” he had said nervously, after confessing how absolutely gorgeous he saw you to be.
You laughed and smacked his arm gently. “Shut up.”
“I’m kidding. I’ve had a crush on you since freshman year.”
And it shows. He’s gentle and respectful of you both in the closet and out of it. Unfortunately, your friendship status — and certainly relationship status — is kept hidden from your friends, but it’s okay. If your friends found out, they’d go berserk. The same reaction would occur if his sister were to find out, too. So, you sneak around in private.
Kai slinks two fingers on each side of your top, but the tight fabric has a strong resistance. He tries to pull it up and expose your breasts, but he’s too flustered to get a good grip.
“This is so frustrating,” he mutters.
You can’t help but laugh. “It’s supposed to be tight. You don’t want my top flying up and flashing everyone when I’m performing, do you?”
His jaw tenses. “No.”
“C’mere,” you say, still laughing softly. “Next time, okay?” You kiss him deeply, redirecting his focus back to you rather than your top. His fingers relent, dropping to your waist again instead. He rubs circles on your hips with his thumbs, applying just enough pressure to make you gasp. Kai smiles against your lips. One hand drops while you’re taken off guard. He reaches under your short skirt and runs a finger along your core. You shudder, legs going weak, but he puts his knee in between them to keep you upright.
“Kai…”
“Shh, be a good girl and stay quiet for me.”
You swallow hard, obeying the command. He kisses above your collarbone, while the hand underneath your skirt teases the waistband of your briefs, then inches them down until they hit the floor. Cool air hits your inner thighs immediately, but Kai wastes no time slipping his fingers into your panties. He teases your clit, petting gently. You whine, then slap your palm over your mouth. He lets out a rather sadistic low chuckle as you try to keep quiet. His fingers take to your clit more seriously, rubbing in deliberate circles. Heat builds in your stomach slowly, responding to the pleasure he gives. He breathes against your neck and you grow more desperate for release.
“Please,” you whisper by his ear. "Feels so good." You find yourself grinding down on his thigh, still separating your legs. He rubs harder, faster, until you're clinging onto his shoulders for support. “Fuck… Kai, I’m— oh, oh—”
Kai kisses your neck. With his other hand, he teases a nipple over your top. He doesn’t stop — doesn't slow down — until your body gives and legs shake. Soft whimpers are concealed by your palm, but he can still hear them in his proximity.
“Atta girl,” he praises, pulling two wet fingers out of your core and sucking on them. He goes back for seconds — your clear, sticky substance coating them down to his knuckles.
Kai kisses your lips again, dips his fingers in you one more time, then pushes your panties to the floor. He gently pulls his fingers back out and lifts them to your lips. Instantly, you open and suck yourself off them, not missing his excited smile at the sight. He gives you another quick kiss. “You’re so good for me."
Kai checks his watch, squeezes your ass with one hand, then unbuckles his belt in one swift, practiced motion. You watch with anticipation as he grabs a condom from his pocket and pushes his pants down, kicking them aside subtley. With ease, he rolls it on, and grabs your ass again, both hands now. “Up.”
You jump onto his waist and let him back you into the wall. For a second, he holds you up with one hand while lining up his erect cock with your core.
“Ready?”
“Mhm, yes.”
Anticipating tears well in your eyes before he even starts and he can’t help but laugh. You roll your eyes playfully at him, causing him to push in suddenly, but then stop halfway, pull out, and re-enter as you adjust.
“Mean,” you mutter, gasping from the intrusion, clinging to his shoulders.
“Remember to stay quiet.”
“You stay quiet,” you retort.
He raises an eyebrow at you, but can’t be mad at the smile on your face he loves so much. Kai pushes in enough to kiss you, then continues with slower movements until your body fully accepts him.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
He finds a slow pace first. His hands adjust their hold on you as he picks up speed. His left keeps support of your body, but he moves his right to protect your head from the concrete wall behind you. It always amazes you how much stronger Kai is than he looks. If he wasn’t so shy in school, he could blow those stupid jocks out of the water. The thought makes you smile.
“What?” He says, having been watching your face closely.
“Nothing,” you let out a short laugh. “I just love you.”
He takes a moment to process the words, then kisses you. He kisses your lips, your jaw, down your neck, and to the top of your uniform. His pace quickens — the sound he wanted to avoid soon filling the silence — but he’s too excited to care. You lean in closer so he can drop his hand back down to your ass, adjusting his angle slightly to hit a deeper, more sensitive area. Tears begin to well again at the sensation; you press your mouth to his shoulder, desperately muting the small whimpers stuck in your throat.
Within minutes, he starts to get sloppier and your body feels heavier. He buries his nose into your neck and barely has time to warn you before cumming, filling the condom with his release. You let out a soft gasp as he shudders against your body, exhaustion hitting him quickly. Still, he rocks his hips into you until you follow with your own orgasm, signaled only by a choked sob — words of warning slurred and incomprehensible in the midst of pleasure. Only after does he finally slow down, and you both take a moment to catch your breath. Your wet core helps him slide out more easily, and as soon as he’s stable enough, he sets you down slowly, hands still supporting your waist. You lean against the wall until your legs recover, while he pulls off the condom and disposes it into the nearby trash can. With a laugh, you grab a box off the shelf, pull out the last few tissues inside, and toss it into the can, too. Kai narrows his eyes at you, finishing the buckle on his belt.
"Hiding it," you explain, "just in case." He laughs. You grab the front pocket of his jeans and stuff in the two now-folded tissues. "You have pockets, I don't."
"C'mere," he says softly, pulling out the tissue you literally just gave him. He dabs it gently at the corner of your eyes, soaking up the small tears you had forgotten about. They weren't heavy enough to smear your make-up, but Kai doesn't want to take any chances in case someone notices. Sure, you could just tell your friends the math test meeting made you cry, but you like this — his care — better anyway.
"Thanks."
"You look beautiful. Are you okay to walk?"
You do a test run by walking to the end of the closet and back to him. At first, you stumble a little, but regain full stability quickly enough that you're not worried about it.
"Yeah, I'm good."
"Okay. I'll see you from the stands, end of the row. Jo has a friend coming today too, so she'll be slightly distracted. Just enough that she shouldn't notice me watching only you throughout the whole game."
That makes you laugh — feel a bit flustered, but overwhelmingly happy. Special.
"I'll look for you. Blow you a kiss at halftime if no one's looking."
He smiles, cheeks tinted pink with a charming blush. "Kiss me again now, so I can let you on your way. The horde will be coming back soon. Can't let them see us together."
You take his hand, kiss his knuckles sweetly. "Not because I care about popularity," you remind. "I just don't want your sister or parents, nor my parents, finding out and getting involved, okay? If I could kiss you in the halls like every other sappy couple in this school, I would. I just don't want you to get hurt."
"I know," he says, putting a hand on your cheek. "It's okay."
"It sucks."
"It does. But it's okay."
Kai kisses you — gently, but desperately. You grab his shirt to pull him closer and sneak one hand to his waist to touch his skin. He smiles and licks your bottom lip; you let him in, but put your other hand under his shirt, too, petting the hairs that dip below the belt. He finally breaks the kiss, surrendering dominance before your touch can get him hard again. You offer a mischevious smile and trail your finger down one more time before clasping your hands behind your back with faux innocence.
He shakes his head. "You're trouble."
"You're hot. It's too tempting."
"You're going to be late for warm ups."
"I think the last twenty minutes have been enough of a warm up, don't you think?"
"Sure, but have fun explaining that to the rest of your squad."
"Ughhh…" You roll your eyes. Peck his lips one last time. "I'll see you soon. Monday? Practice doesn't start until three-thirty, so I have a bit of time to spare."
"Jo has to stay until four for a project, so yeah. Monday works great. But I'll page you if anything changes."
"Okay! Be safe this weekend. I love you!"
"I love you, too, baby." He kisses your forehead. "Hey, drink a tea tonight for your throat after the game."
"Why, are you gonna make it worse on Monday?"
He gives you a playful glare. "Maybe. Guess you'll have to wait and see."
Hand on the doorknob, you suck in your lips to keep from laughing. Instead, you shake your head and mouth one last, "love you" before sneaking out of the closet and back into the well-lit hallway. Quickly, you smooth out your clothes and take a deep breath, then head off to the lockers.
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hi! sorry for the long wait time on a response! currently, i'm not really working heavily on requests as i'm still trying to break through a writer's block, but you can still send them in and i will get to them when i can. sometimes others' ideas are what help me get the ball rolling on writing more, so you can certainly send it... just know it might take me a hot minute to fill it!
First of all, I wanted to apologize for spam liking your posts last night…. I was trying really hard to not like all of them.
Second of all, I LOVE YOUR KAI FICS💓💓💓💓 They are amazing❤️ You are quite literally my favourite writer on this app:)
Keep doing what you do! You’re amazing❤️❤️❤️
hi!! omg, don't apologize, i love spam likes!! (i do a fair share of that myself, too, lol.) i remember seeing them when they came in, but i'm terrible at responding to asks, but thank you!! i'm so glad you love them, and i feel honored to be your favorite.🥹 thank you for reading!! 🩷🩷 i am hoping to get back into writing more soon (might go and rewatch s6 in its entirety to get my spark back, haha!)
