Authors Note:
I'm not sure how successful OC-centric fanfics are, I know that I myself hardly ever read them, but the idea for the main character and all of his family just came to me, and I had to start writing.
This will contain most of the characters you know and love, and is centered around the new arrival Alex and the friendships and relationships that grow between him and the Beacon Hills residents.
This will be slow build for any relationships that develop, but will most probably have smut (who am I kidding, I can't resist some smut!) in it eventually, so I'm just rating it M so I don't have to change it later. Plus there will be explicit language, and some mild drug and alcohol use.
I hope you enjoy it, please review to let me know what you think. It's been a few months since I watched Teen Wolf, so I apologise if some of the characters seem a little off, or if I forget a few details.
For a visual of how I envisage Alex, see the link on my profile, if you'd rather make him your own then feel free to do so.
California disgusted Alex.
The heat, the sun, the landscape, all of it made him want to tear his hair out. He yearned for the grey skies and tangle of skyscrapers and people that he had grown up with. Yearned for a place where people pissed on you on the subway and no one smiled as you walked past. He must have gotten fifty smiles just between getting off the plane and getting into the car, and every one of them was met with a cold gaze.
Alex Payne wasn't a moody boy. Well, he was as moody as any hormonal seventeen year old can be, but generally he was a happy guy. He loved listening to music, hanging out with his friends in Central Park, hitting the Brooklyn bars to listen to the best new bands. But he couldn't do that here, no siree. Even music was being kept from him, his mother had control of the stereo and kept blasting the most ridiculous rap and hip hop songs, mixed with show tunes and classical pieces.
Olga Payne was a strange woman, all her children agreed. Given a name that suited her as much as a fish suited being on land, she was born Olga Archer in Germany to an American father and a German mother, and left her home country at the age of ten for the bright lights of Manhattan. There she had met David Payne, married him after a lengthy courtship, and popped out five children. Always wanting to be in on the newest trends, her current obsessions were fishing guidebooks, Azealia Banks, and hot pink clothes.
"Turn this shit off." Rory, Alex's brother, grumbled, wishing he had an iPod so he could block out the music his mother had turned up to full.
"I'm a hood bitch, baby!" She yelled, laughing at her children's obvious discomfort as she watched them in the rear-view mirror.
"Oh my god, you're so embarrassing." Sam, a fifteen year old mirror image of her mother, shot a look of disdain to the front of the car, trying to stop the smile that threatened to break her frown.
Alex actually thought his mom was kind of fun, but she could definitely be embarrassing, he'd give Sam that much.
"This is going to be so fun, right kids?" Olga grinned, her thin, sculpted face turning to smile at the four bodies in the back of the seven seater, brushing a wry strand of curly blonde hair away from her pink glossed lips.
"Yeah. Great. Cos there's so much to do here." Alex let out a groan as they passed the Beacon Hills city limits sign, the houses growing in number, more people coming into view.
"There's a lot to do here, I grew up here, I think I should know." David, Alex's dad and possibly the second strangest person he knew after his mother, grinned as he turned the car down a side street.
David Payne had been born in Beacon Hills forty-seven years ago, leaving for New York when he was eighteen and never looking back. He'd visited the place for family reunions and the like, but it was in his past. Until now.
"It looks like fucking crap!" Rory yelled, trying to dodge out of the way unsuccessfully as his mother gave him a playful slap across his head, messing up his dark red hair.
"No more swearing," She admonished with a grin, "It does like kind of shitty though." All the kids burst out laughing as David shook his head, a smile on his lips. Olga had never taken the normal approach to parenting.
"Home sweet home." Alex said quietly as they pulled up outside the expansive white house. The street was almost classic suburbia, save the fact most of the houses were hidden behind shrubbery and foliage, and there were only a few people to be seen.
"God, we gave up a west side brownstone for this?" Rory shook his head, referring to the enormous town house they had owned in New York. Technically they still owned it, just their sister and eldest sibling was living their now, with her investment banker husband and a newborn baby who had been blessed with a name their strange sibling had made up herself.
"It's fun!" Olga grinned, taking Maria, a shy ten year old who got all of their fathers looks, by the hand and leading her up the few steps to the path.
Alex felt sick to his stomach. Their old house had five stories, this house had two. He could tell there was an attic and a basement, but those didn't count in his books. He'd never get a moments peace from his family, especially as he had, lets see, all of zero friends here. It was going to be a lot of time on the computer.
"When's Helen coming?" Alex asked as he helped his dad with the suitcases in the trunk. All their furniture had been shipped ahead of them, and if David's sister had done her job right should be waiting inside.
"Later on, we'll have a dinner." Rory and Sam were running around their father and brother fighting each other, yelling and grinning. Rory yelped as Maria whacked him over the head with a stick she had found on the ground. "You know," His father took Alex aside from the others, his arm wrapped around his shoulder, "Helen needs us. I get that you don't want to be here, but you understand, right?"
Alex understood. Aunt Helen had been diagnosed with cancer three months ago. Chemo, radiotherapy, experimental surgeries, none of it was working. It made him feel guilty for even thinking that it was a dumb idea to move here when he remembered the real reason they were here.
Family first.
It was his fathers motto. Their mothers was fun first.
With a weak smile he reassured his father, tried to put on a happy face, and started up to the house, dragging the massive case full of his stuff behind him.
He hadn't trusted the movers, who would have been travelling all the way across the country with all his possessions in the world, not to break or lose something, so he had packed up everything essential and lugged it onto the plane. He was unzipping it now, in his new bedroom. It looked much the same as his old one had, Olga had tried to ensure her children didn't feel out of place, and had dipped into the Payne fortune – something she rarely did – and hired a nice gay decorator who had basically recreated four bedrooms, taking them from New York to Beacon Hills.
It was a big room, bigger than the brownstones bedroom, with white panelling covering one half of the walls, while the top halves were painted a deep green. Green was his favourite colour, he just wished he had green eyes. The genetic lottery had served him brown, just like his father and his brother and his youngest sister. Only Sam got the green eyes of their mother.
His record player was already set up, but most of the records were in his case. He would have been surprised if the movers had brought them and they weren't warped when they got here, so he had just took them himself. Hundreds of thin discs slipped inside their cases were soon stacked up by the chest of drawers the record player was on. Books filled the shelves above his bed, his favourite extra long iPod wire was plugged into the socket behind his end table with the desperately needing a charge phone attached, pens and paper and blue tac and rubbers and pencils were shoved into the pots around his desk, the gleaming, brand new iMac in the middle of the desk making his heart flutter.
He knew how ridiculous it was to have spent such an obscene amount of money on the thing, but his dad had promised him anything he wanted if he was compliant with the move. So compliant he had been, and in return he had chosen the biggest iMac available and added every possible extra to it, using his dads credit card and pressing buy with a knot in his stomach.
When the bill had came back at almost nine thousand dollars he thought his dad might break his cardinal rule and beat Alex for the first time ever, but he had just screamed and yelled at how obscene it was before he stalked out of the house. Alex had very calmly pointed out his mom's thirty thousand dollar necklace that David had given her for her birthday, and Olga had laughed in response, ruffling Alex's brown curls and telling him he could keep the computer.
His old MacBook Pro was soon fished out of his backpack and laid down on the desk by the much more impressive machine. It had been a Christmas present, and Alex laughed at how it had cost a third of what his moving present had.
"How's the room?" Olga's blonde curls appeared round the open doorway, taking in her sons already messy bedroom, doing a little dance to The Velvet Underground song that was playing as she crossed the room.
"I love you." Alex grinned as he hugged her. He was at least a head taller than her, at six two, and the sight of her tall son almost made her cry again. She always cried with a huge smile on her face when she saw her children growing up.
"I love you too-oo, I do-oo!" She joked as they parted, jumping onto the bed in her bare feet and doing a little bounce.
"Get off there or you're grounded!" Alex said, laughing as he started packing away the boxes of clothes that were dumped by the wardrobe.
"You're no fun," The song was soon changed to Kanye West as she started to help her son, holding up his array of underwear and whooping as she packed things away, smiling a the blush that covered Alex's cheeks as she picked up a particularly racy pair of AussieBum briefs in red.
"I bought them as a joke!" He bristled, snatching the wonderjock from her hands. He had bought them as a joke, but she didn't believe him. He didn't believe himself any more, he loved those briefs.
"Only sluts wear red, kiddo." She grinned, showcasing perfect white teeth.
"Well what's this?!" She was leaning over, packing endless pairs of thick socks into his bottom drawer, a tiny strip of red, lacy underwear peeping over her jeans.
"Never you mind." A giggle escaped her lips, and for a second it was like she was eighteen again. What she would give for those days.
"Yeah, yeah. Get out, I wanna get changed." Alex embraced her in another quick hug, wanting her out of there so he could swap the crumpled clothes he had spent what felt like hundreds of hours in.
It wasn't like he meant to start watching porn, he reflected as he sat at the Mac. He had changed into navy sweats and a grey t shirt, and was testing out the computer for the first time. Of course, it was a total accident that he had stumbled onto this particular website. In a few quick seconds he had closed the shades and locked the door. Headphones in, pants down and legs spread, he got to work. Hey, he was a teenager after all.
A little flushed and a great deal more relaxed, Alex headed down the twisting staircase thirty minutes later, a huge grin on his face. It was amazing what a sexual release did for a teenager. This place wouldn't be so bad, he thought as he hopped down the carpet coated steps to the foyer, passing under the arch to the living room, and through another to the dining room.
The double doors leading to the garden were thrown open, and a lush green lawn was there to greet him. A garden. That was a luxury California offered in spades compared to New York. Their old garden had been a tiny little stone covered thing, overgrown with weeds and moss with a broken fountain in the centre. The garden here, on the other hand, almost had too much space.
An expanse of lawn began after a small patio area directly outside the dining room, bordered by trees and shrubs, with a sturdy tree house (commissioned by the nice, aforementioned decorator) adorning a huge elm. A massive eucalyptus grew parallel to the elm, both of the trees standing sentient either side of the wrought iron gate with masses of tall, wild hedges and shrubbery covering the moss coated wall that ran from the gate. Beyond that gate, steps led down to a red brick patio, with a pool surrounded by designer lounge chairs.
A pool! He had never imagined they could have something so huge in their house. If he wanted to swim in New York he had two choices: school or the SoHo House. Another point for California.
Beside the pool was the guest house, which was reserved for Olga's reclusive sister, who was apparently coming to stay with them for a while, though Alex was unsure about that one, Ursula Archer was erratic, always travelling around the world with her lottery winnings making new friends then promptly ignoring them. He was positive his family was one of the strangest out there.
Sam and Maria were already laid out in bikinis on the grass, while Rory was under the shade of an umbrella, playing on his phone. Rory couldn't tan, his skin just burnt as red as his hair then quickly faded back to white. Sam, however, was already turning a golden brown thanks to the oil she was using, while Maria was a little red.
"Hey dick," Rory said, punching Alex on the arm as he joined him. A few bowls of fruit had been laid out across the long, glass table, but by who he couldn't say. His mom was upstairs unpacking, while his dad had gone to pick up aunt Helen.
"Ass. Did you make this?" Alex asked. Rory snorted in response. Getting him into a kitchen for anything but eating would be harder than getting Olga to be appropriate.
"The maid woman did it." His brother shrugged, deciding he was bored of Alex and putting his headphones in.
"It's housekeeper." The woman's voice made Alex jump a little, looking up to see a dark haired, casually dressed woman emerging from the kitchen with a pitcher of lemonade and a tray of glasses in her hand. "I'm Sammy, nice to meet you." A coarse hand was extended once she had placed the drinks on the table, which Alex shook gladly, still a little confused.
"Nice to meet you,"
"Good handshake. Better than your brother." She grinned, showing her slightly crooked teeth and giving a nod to Rory, who was oblivious.
"No one told me we had a ma -" Her eyebrows raised at what she knew he was about to call her, "- uh, housekeeper."
"Mrs. Montrose-Payne sent me over. I am to oversee the move, provide food and refreshments, and generally help put around the house, on an indefinite basis." She smiled, pouring a glass of lemonade for Alex before she ambled back to the house to start lunch. Mrs Montrose-Payne. Candice. Alex groaned as he remembered his grandmother. He had seen little of her, she was too busy lording over the Beacon Hills social scene from her colonial mansion in the twisting hills where the elite lived, but from what he remembered she was a fearsome snob who had only married his grandfather for the money. An ex-beauty queen with social ambitions to rival a desperate New York socialite, she was considered the crème de la crème of Beacon Hills society, and clearly she was going to be as interfering as his dad had thought she would be.
"Mom won't be happy." Sam pointed out, rolling onto her stomach so she could look at Alex.
"Mom likes to cook." Maria added, giving Alex a grin before, much like Rory, her attention span waned and she jumped up off the grass, running into the house.
"She does like to cook though. If this Sammy," Sam raised her eyebrows and flicked her blonde hair back, as if cursing the woman for daring to steal her name, "starts interfering she'll probably get fired or something."
"She won't get fired, grandma has probably got her to sign a water tight contract saying she can only leave on pain of death." Alex said, stealing a grape out of Rory's hands as Sam giggled.
"She's a piece of work, old Candice." Olga, who had been stood in the doorway listening, said as she crossed the lawn and sat down an a squirming Rory's knee.
"Gerrof!" He grumbled, a flush the same colour as his hair creeping over his face as Olga wrapped her arms around his neck and rested her head on his shoulder.
"What did I do to deserve such a cruel son?" She stuck out her bottom lip in mock sadness as Alex laughed.
"Look whose here!" David's voice was added to the chatter of his family as he emerged from the dining room, aunt Helen wading behind him.
"Hey kids." Her voice was coarse from years of smoking, and her skin had a yellow tinge to it. A happy, genuine smile was plastered across her face, chubby cheeks lifting up as she grinned. Alex jumped up to embrace her, he had always liked aunt Helen.
She was forty nine years old and looked every inch of it. A two pack a day habit had resulted in her cancer, skin yellowed from lack of sun and chemotherapy, her very expensive wig hiding the bare skin beneath it. Helen Payne had been average looking when she was growing up, finally getting her first boyfriend when she hit seventeen and the family cheekbones started to make their appearance. Then she had discovered it. Chocolate. Her biggest weakness, she had gorged on mountains of the stuff every day, until she had gained forty pounds and lost her man. She turned to smoking to try and suppress her appetite, with no change except that she was then addicted to nicotine as well as chocolate. Years later she was three hundred pounds and nursing a drinking habit to rival her mother.
The cancer had, ironically, kick started her desire for life, she had lost twenty pounds in the past three months, went through an intensive drug programme to rid her of her bad habits, and started painting again, but she knew she still had to make strides if she wanted to live.
"I've missed you," Alex beamed as he hugged her tightly, glad that she seemed happier than the last time he saw her, strange seeing as she now had cancer.
"Look who she brought," His dad grinned, making a clicking noise with his tongue.
"Uffie!" Alex and Sam yelled at the same time as the tiny black dog, pink tongue hanging out, ran into the garden.
Uffie had been the favourite member of the family for the past three years, and had been shipped to Beacon Hills a week before they arrived to stay with Aunt Helen till they got in. A ragged and rather mangy looking mongrel, her black fur was always matted no matter how expensive the conditioner was, she was always hungry even though she was fed her own portion of whatever was for dinner that night, and one ear was missing.
Alex loved her with all his heart.
It had been a late night in Central Park when he found her under a bush, her whines bringing him over to her. A broken, blooded paw had prevented her usually quick movements, and it was clear she had been living on the mean streets for a while. He liked to imagine she had been kicked out of a rich east side penthouse for being too ugly, instead surviving on the streets were she had to fight to survive, hence the missing ear. He imagined himself her saviour, for, against his friends wishes, he had picked her up, getting a huge scratch down his forearm which was now a silvery-white scar, and spirited her away to the vet.
Dr Treydor had suggested she be put down, but Alex and Olga, who had joined him as soon as she heard there was an injured animal, had protested and shouted down the usually very persuasive doctor, who had performed hours of surgery on her until she was all fixed up. Alex had wanted to put up posters to see if she belonged to anyone, but his mom couldn't bear to let the little thing, who had instantly fallen in love with her, out of her sight. So they had just checked for tags, found none, and planted their own in her and taken her off to her new home.
"Put the song on!" His mom yelled, jumping out of Rory's lap and leaning down on the grass so Uffie ran into her arms.
"Do I have too?" Sam groaned, wanting to tan under the hot sun. She huffed and puffed all the way to the table, where her iPod was plugged into the speakers. Sam had been the one to name the mongrel, a twelve year old Sam who Olga let listen to the rather explicit lyrics of the French-American rapper Uffie.
Alex had protested till the end, but as soon as Sam had uttered the name the dog had responded, and no matter how many names Alex tried she would only respond to Uffie.
'You wanna talk about it, let me talk about it, I've got the sound that kill, and there's nothing like it' Olga took Uffie into her arms as her namesake started blasting through the garden. Rory shouted for her to turn it down as she cranked the volume up to maximum, one hand extended straight up to the sky and a huge grin on her face as her swung her hips around.
'we're in the dark, no one can see, so i can touch your body' Helen grinned as her sister-in-law continued to dance, singing along to the lyrics and swinging Uffie around, letting the rough pink tongue lick her face.
"That's disgusting." Sam laughed, joining her mother on the grassy dance floor. Helen huffed her way across the lawn, pumping her arms in the air, glad that her family were here. She had felt bad when David told her he was moving clear across the country just for her, but now she was more appreciative than ever.
"Come on, Alex." David snaked an arm over his sons shoulder, joining the girls and doing one of those awful dad-dances, his head bobbing back and forth, singing about how he was famous and partied like a rock star. Alex was a mildly better dancer, but it was still pretty bad, all shaking hips and swinging arms and a huge grin.
"I came to rock the party!" Maria sung, climbing onto the table and wiggling her little hips as the song repeated itself. None of them could stop grinning, maybe California wouldn't be so bad.
"You guys are so embarrassing." Rory grumbled, turning away from his hysterically laughing family with a groan.
Dinner was a happy affair, everyone gorging on mountains of pasta that Sammy had whipped up and practically covered the table with. They ate at the kitchen table, which was less grand than the shiny mahogany creation in the dining room, a long expanse of scrubbed wood that could seat ten. The sunset poured through the floor to ceiling glass that surrounded them on three sides, the table was right in the middle of a conservatory-type area that led directly to the kitchen through an arch so big that there might as well have not even been any wall.
Aunt Helen told them all what they has missed since they last saw her, skipping out any of those cancer conversations for another time. Today was happy, and she wanted it to stay that way.
"Can someone take Uffie for a walk? Anyone? Come on!" Olga groaned as she relaxed on a massive, plush couch in the living room, flipping channels until a Rachmaninoff recording with a slide show of the composer started up.
"No." Five voices said lazily. Alex shrugged, he wanted to walk anyway.
"Go with your brother." His mom told Uffie, tying the hot pink lead she had bought onto her matching hot pink, crystal encrusted collar and depositing her in Alex's arms. He let the little mongrel run around on the lawn as he slipped into his converse, throwing a back sweatshirt over his grey tee.
The night was warm, but he was used to worse with the blazing New York summers, and he found himself musing about the whole situation while he strolled along with a very happy Uffie at his feet – she loved all the pavement space, even dogs knew what a commodity that was in New York. Okay, so California wasn't that bad, but the worst part would be school, he was sure of it. He had attended a fee-paying prep back in New York, but the only option in this town was Beacon Hill's high, which aunt Helen said was ruled by a popular clique of kids that made life hell for everyone who they didn't like. Alex was pretty sure they wouldn't like him.
He wasn't weird or anything, well, he didn't think so, but he wasn't really into the whole social scene. He had his friends, or he had done back home, and he stuck to them. He wasn't a social butterfly like Sam, or a jock who made friends instantly like Rory. His ambitions were blurred, he really had no idea what he wanted to do, the only thing he could think of when he was asked was being a writer, though he thought all of his drabbles were too crap to show anyone, so he buried them away in password protected files and hid anything written inside a locked chest under his bed.
Prayers were sent to the god he didn't believe in to let him make at least some friends when he started next week, to at least find someone who shared his interests and humour.
"Uffie! Hey!" Alex shouted after a barking Uffie, swinging around the pink lead that he had let her off for being so good and walking calmly beside him. They had circled the block, and were almost home by now, but she was running up the garden of the house next door, barking furiously.
He knew he had to get her, so he hopped the fence and tried to cut her off from the other side, cursing as she darted through his open legs and ran straight into a wall, turning around and darting into a bush where she found what she could smell.
"Ouch! Help! Scott, this better not be some sort of pup whose gonna be human in a second!" If she had the strength she would have dragged the frame of the boy hiding in the bushes out by her teeth, as it was she just scared him out with her high barks. Alex had no idea what he was talking about, thinking it was probably some inside joke.
"Uh – sorry – she just ran up." Alex rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he spoke, his eyes taking in the tall boy in front of him. His jeans were ripped and his open shirt over a white tee was covered in mud. Sticks and grass were covering his close cropped hair, but he was still grinning despite his appearance.
"That's okay. She's a cute little thing, aren't ya?!" He leaned down to stroke Uffie, getting a nip on his arm for his trouble.
"Uffie!" Alex scolded, grabbing her from behind when she was distracted with growling at the boy and clipping the hot pink lead onto her collar.
"Nice collar," The boy laughed, "I'm Stiles, by the way, and I do live here, I'm not a crazy stalker hiding in bushes." Stiles extended a muddy hand.
"I'm Alex. Nice to meet you, we just moved in next door." Alex smiled an awkward smile, feeling like an idiot, noticing that despite the mess of his clothes and the mud all over him that Stiles still looked pretty good.
"Cool." Stiles, without the excuse of a dog, who was now hiding behind Alex's leg, to ease the awkwardness of a first encounter with someone, threw an equally awkward smile to Alex, finally seeming to realise how he looked and bursting into laughter. "Sorry, I'm a mess. I should go get changed, it's just my luck to meet the new neighbour looking like... this."
They both said a hasty goodbye, but Alex couldn't help but turn back as he reached the gate, dragging Uffie across the grass. She wanted to stay, she could smell something on Stiles.
He turned, and so did Stiles. Two sets of brown eyes met and for a second they both grinned without any of the awkwardness they had just experienced. It was gone as quickly as it had lasted. Alex headed next door with a slight smile turning his lips, hearing Stiles' door slam shut as he ambled up the garden path.