So yeah hey. This is my first Teen Wolf fic (AND MY FIRST SLASH. LE GASP. I am ashamed of myself.) So yeah I started shipping Scisaac/McLahey/whatever the hell you want to call it towards the end of season two. 2x08 started it, but then 2x11? SO MANY FEELS. CRYING. So yeah. This is just going to be everything I like about fics in one fic. Hot mess? Probably. But here goes. This is just the prologue, so it's pretty short.

I own nothing. This is not for profit. Pinky swear. And no beta, so most likely horrible grammar so yeah sorry.

Prologue

He watches him. He can't help it. His hair, mussed from running his fingers through it in frustration. He still doesn't understand Chemistry, even with the help his friend is giving him.

His friend, whose scent his all over him. He growls softly, low in his throat. I have no room to be jealous. We aren't even friends.

He watches him, wistfully, unable to contain his longing to just private thoughts. He watches him, and he feels. He hadn't felt in a long time. His father had told him multiple times that he didn't deserve love, that no one could love him. And maybe he was right.

But he couldn't help it. He watched him doodle in the margins of his notebook, having given up and now ignoring the drones of the teacher. He was handsome, even just sitting there. He felt a sudden warmth spread through his body, and what seemed like butterflies in his stomach.

Oh crap. I'm in way over my head. God damn his puppy dog brown eyes.

He's like the sunlight. Blond curly hair and blue eyes, beautiful to everyone except himself. Didn't he see it? Didn't he see the longing glances sent his way?

With werewolf senses, you think he'd at least notice the lustful stares. So many females, and males too for that matter. He had that beauty that attracted everyone, no matter their sexual preference.

Where I am staring at him? I'm not even in his pack. He'd never see me like I see him. He'd never notice how I stare at him, day after day.

That smirk he has, that way of tilting his head to listen to the teacher. It drove him crazy.

He wanted nothing more than to walk across the room and rub his body against his. To mark him, scent him.

To prove that he's mine. But he'll never be mine.

I know, I know. Short. Chapter one will most likely be up tomorrow night. I just have so many Scisaac feelings sometimes. I can't help it.

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