Warnings: Slash, nonrelated, Language

Disclaimer: Nothing you recognize belongs to me, but I do own the character of Michael.

Special Thanks: Goes to primavera15 for helping me with some of Damon's line. Thank you so much, buddy. That was definitely my favorite line! :D I'm not very good with writing a snarky Damon so I had to do a lot of research with this chapter. I wanted him to be different from the badass/emotionless (sometimes!) vampire on the show but still retain some of his Damon-ness. Hopefully I succeeded.

Part Seven

They don't look pleased.

Unable to hold their gazes, I drop mine and stare at the puddles of dirt gathering at my feet, curling my toes and watching the mud ooze out. I didn't ask Michael to kiss me. I've never even considered him in that way.

Tyler and Damon are the ones I want: the ones I'm in love with.

I pale at that thought. However, it's true. While I don't know when my feelings changed, sometime during the last four months they did. I'm in love with Tyler and Damon.

I'm in love with a pair of already mated werewolves.

Swallowing hard, I fight an old pain swelling in my stomach as I move towards them, my throat dry. I keep my gaze focused on the ground, thankful werewolves don't possess the ability to read minds—if they did…well I'm sure Tyler and Damon would've learned about my feelings a lot sooner. Since that's a moot point, there's no need for me to complicate things.

When a hand cups and lifts my chin, I find myself staring up at Damon with Tyler nearby. Gently, Damon turns my face to the right and then to the left like he's searching for any cuts or bruises. My chest tightens at his affection but I shove the thought away; he's just being my friend. I reach a hesitant hand up and cover his; at my touch, he stiffens and our gazes lock. The tips of my ear burn from his expression as his eyes sweep over my body and take in the drops of water still dripping from my hair and trailing down my neck and arms. My shirt clings to my chest and my jeans feel heavy and tight. Something about the older wolf's gaze leaves me feeling vulnerable.

"I'm fine, Damon," I say in a quiet tone. "I'm all right."

He eyes continue to roam my face. After a moment he releases his hold and steps away. I stumble back unbalanced and breathless.

"C'mon," he says his tone gruff. "Let's get you home so you can shower."

Quietly I fall into step with them. Neither of them mentions what just happened and I don't question it. I bite my lip and rub my arms, shivering from the unexpected chill, despite it being pretty warm; no matter how hot it is, it always feels so cold after leaving the water.

The silence stretches and I'm grateful when we reach the house.

Heading upstairs, I slip into the bathroom and shut the door, peeling off my soaked clothes and tossing them in the hamper. After switching on the shower, I adjust the water levels and climb under the warm spray, groaning as bits of dried mud, sand, and leaves wash off and rush towards the drain. For a brief moment, I close my eyes and tip my head back, enjoying the sensation before grabbing the soap, lathering my hands, and scrubbing my hair and body clean.

Ten minutes later, I step out and feel refreshed as I grab a towel and rub it over my body before tying it around my waist. Walking over to the mirror, I wipe my hand over the fogged glass and pick up my comb but as I glance up at my reflection, my eyes land on the two small puncture marks at the base of my neck, a reminder of my near brush with death four months ago. Swallowing, I finger the wounds. Although they're healing and almost invisible to another person, I still know they're there. I've gotten quite good at ignoring them whenever I shower but for some reason I can't help looking at them now.

My eyes snap up to meet his blood red ones as he drags me up off the ground and sets me down so we're chest to chest and I'm straddling his waist. One of his hand grips both of my wrists behind my back while his other one wraps around my neck.

I flinch still able to feel those needle-sharp fangs sinking into my skin and the pain of him draining my life.

Shoving aside the unbidden and unwelcome memory, I comb back my hair before exiting the bathroom, clouds of steam billowing into the air. I duck into my room and tug on a clean pair of boxers, dark wash jeans, and my favorite black t-shirt; the material stinks to my damp skin. Once dressed, I head downstairs in want of a snack.

"Hey, Jeremy?" Tyler's voice stops me at the bottom of the stairs. "Can we talk to you?"

All thoughts of food forgotten, I change directions and slip into the living room, spotting Tyler and Damon on the couch. "So you're not upset?"

"Why would we be?" Damon frowns at my question.

"Well when you didn't say anything to me earlier…and the looks on your faces…" I give a helpless shrug as if to say "what was I supposed to think?"

Tyler nods in understanding and pats the cushion beside him. "This is hard for us too, Jeremy."

I frown in confusion as I sit, back stiff and on the edge of the sofa. What's so hard for them?

"We've wanted to talk to you about this for a while but…" Tyler leans forward and runs a hand through his hair; several dark strands of hair stick as a result while others fall over his eyes and give him a younger appearance. On Tyler's other side, Damon reclines against the leather couch backing, his right arm dangling off the armrest with a glass of bourbon hanging between his fingers. "We just didn't know how to bring it up."

My stomach clenches and a sharp jab of pain shoots through me. If they're talking about them being mates, I already know because I walked in on them. Shuddering I shake away the thought. Although they do share a room, I've never heard any telltale noises such as bedsprings squeaking, headboard slamming against the wall, or moans. So what else would they need to tell me?

"Jeremy," Tyler picks up my hand and glances up at me, "what we're trying to say is…"

Someone knocks on the door.

Growling at the interruption, Damon stands and glances out the window, his hands fisting and shoulders tensing. It could've been my imagination, but I swear I hear him say, "The dick's here." A low snarl erupts from Tyler's throat and he glares when Damon opens the door to reveal Michael on our doorstep.

What's he doing here?

"Hey, Jeremy." Michael flashes me a warm smile that I can't help returning. "I know I said we'd talk later but um…can we talk now?"

I glance back and forth between Tyler and Damon, taking in their tense stances but at the thought of continuing our previous conversation, I nod. I really don't need any more shattered hopes, thank you.

"Sure; just let me go grab my shoes."

Turning, I bound up the stairs and slip on a pair of socks before bending down to tie my shoes. As I grab my cell and keys, I glance out my window and eye the darkening sky before grabbing a light jacket and heading downstairs. Michael's standing in the middle of the entry but his back's to me. When I notice Tyler and Damon talking to him, I slow my steps and crouch behind the banister railing, staying out of sight and straining to listen.

"Just for the record, we're both very protective of Jeremy and he has been hurt before," Tyler says his voice a low growl.

"So," Damon continues as he invades Michael's personal space, "if either of us sees you harm him in any way, I'll rip your head off and shove it so far up your ass you'll be howling from it; do we understand each other, mutt?"

Michael stares at him, his face pale and his eyes wide and fearful; he nods almost eagerly.

With his hand on his shoulder, Tyler flashes him an almost friendly smile if it weren't for the tension in his jaw mixed with the curl of his lips, showing off one of his fangs. "Then we shouldn't have any problems." His fingers tighten and I glimpse his nails digging into scruff of Michael's neck. "Will we, mongrel?"

"No, sir we won't!" Michael hastens to shake his head.

Biting my lip at his choked whimper of pain, I stand up and head down the stairs, making my presence known. Tyler and Damon back away with warning glares and Michael shots me a relieved smile.

"Ready?" I nod and follow him outside.

"I'm sorry about that," I say and shut the door behind me with a firm click. "They're just very protective…though I didn't know they'd do that to you."

He dismisses my apology with a smile before leading me towards a nearby dirt path. As we walk, I close my eyes and breathe in deep, loving the peaceful calm of the forest. Overhead, I hear the wind whispering through the trees and the leaves' quivering dance. In the distance, soft cries echo as a flock of birds flies overhead. With the sun setting, the sky lights up with a yellow, orange, and red glow. Specked shadows litter the ground. I glance at Michael and sigh at him discreetly massaging his shoulder. Although I appreciate Tyler and Damon's protection, did they need to go that far?

"You really scared me earlier." His words startle me.

"What do you mean?"

For a moment he doesn't say anything as we continue the rest of the distance in silence before arriving at a small clearing where several, large stones form a full circle. I've never seen this part of the forest; perhaps this is where the young wolves go for their training?

"Jeremy," Michael gestures towards one of the rocks and I sit, drawing my knees against my chest as he takes the boulder across from me and mimics my position, "I'm grateful to you for saving Vickie but…it nearly cost you your own."

"Don't worry about it," I say and wave his comment aside. "We're both alive and safe now."

"For which I'm very grateful for."

I eye him uncertain, especially with how he's looking at me. As an uncomfortable silence begins to fall, I rack my brain to find something to talk about. Michael beats me to it.

"Jeremy, I'm not really sure how to tell you this." I sigh; what is it with everyone using variations of that phrase today? "I'm not great with words and feelings but since the first time I met you...I knew you were special. Before, you were so shy and quiet; talking to you was a real challenge. Over the last few months though, you've changed. I might not know your past like Tyler or Damon, but you're more relaxed. You're great with the pups, listening and comforting them. Earlier today when everyone panicked over Vickie's disappearance, you followed your gut instinct and because of that you saved my sister's life. If you hadn't…you're constantly on my mind too; you've come to mean a lot to me. I'm drawn to you…more so than any other werewolf here."

Uneasy, I stare at him and listen to his words, unable to shake the unpleasant feeling of this is wrong! bubbling below the surface. I don't want Michael. I want Tyler. I want Damon. Could I even be with another werewolf? Although friendships lay the best foundations for successful and lasting relationships, could the one I share with Michael develop into more and snuff out the longing I feel for Tyler and Damon? I clench and unclench my fists, rubbing my damp palms on my jeans and licking my lips.

"Jeremy," he glances up and our gazes lock, "what I'm asking is...what I'm asking…will-will you be my boyfriend?"

Author's Note: Please don't kill me…I do have the next chapter written out but it would be posted until Wednesday. Since I have three ongoing fictions right now, I'm going to only update one a day and then rotate. So tomorrow will be Closet Skeletons, Tuesday will be To Make You Feel Our Love, and Wednesday will be part eight of this story. It'll be easier for me and less stressful.

Hope you guys enjoyed this last chapter. Please leave me a review and lemme know your thoughts. :D