Disclaimer: I don't own MTV's Teen Wolf or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
Authors Note #1: This story is meant to fit into the canon events of season 4 until just before the end of 4x12, "Smoke and Mirrors" where it goes very AU. The premise is that Scott and co. escaped Kate in Mexico and return to Beacon Hills without the showdown we saw in the final episode where Kate is 'defeated.' In this au Derek still 'evolves', but Chris doesn't go with the Calaveras to track down Kate, but rather returns with the whole pack to Beacon Hills. – This is a Bobby Finstock/Chris Argent fic, with minor references to: Stiles/Derek & Lydia/Parrish here and there.
Warnings: Spoilers for seasons three and four and one or two vague illusions to things that have happened in season five. *Contains: sexual content, blood, guts, gore, canon appropriate violence, references to using alcohol as a coping mechanism in both past and present tenses, kidnapping. - There will be more warnings to come as the story progresses. There will be 40 chapters and this fic will update once a week.
Regress to my mean (and kiss me pretty)
Chapter 14
He ran mindlessly. Not really aware that it wasn't quite light out or that he wasn't wearing a shirt – again. Something that he figured was probably going to become on issue somewhere along the line. Cutting fast through the thick brush of the deep woods, far away from prying eyes as images from the loft two nights before flashed bloody and badly lit in his mind's eye. Vaguely entertaining the possibility of seeing if he could now actually run fast enough to escape his responsibilities as second hand embarrassment and muted horror washed through his mind's eye like an overflowing sewer grate.
He'd done the only thing he could when he'd come back to himself, peeling himself off of Chris and nearly falling over himself in horror and confusion. Painfully hard as the world shifted – or maybe just his understanding of it. The animal under his skin howling a negative as he wrenched his hands out of the man's pants and tossed himself across the room. Fumbling with the door like he'd never seen one before as every instinct he had demanded he go back and claim him.
His mate had given his permission.
Accepted him.
Wanted him.
The man was his.
There was no denying it, no room for debate or second guessing.
There was a sense of rightness to his scent when he'd offered him his throat.
A complicated burst of arousal and want, ageless and without boundary.
It had been centering and clean, like the changing of the seasons.
But not like that.
Not-
He wasn't surprised when Scott and Derek fell in beside him. He'd smelled them coming. Trampling through the long grass as they whipped between trees. Picking up the pace until the forest blurred and the smell of wolf and sweat rose thick in the air.
"Wanna race?" Scott challenged, light and full of humor as one of his eyebrows wriggled itself up at a ridiculous angle. Nearly braining himself on a low-lying branch as the alpha ducked just in time. Making Derek's far more stoic expression all the more unbelievable as he looked between them like he was waiting for the punchline.
And, because he was apparently five years old-
"You're on, McCall."
They ended up in a tangled, growling pile close to an hour later when Liam jump tackled them from the trail edge during a hair-pin curve. Taking down all three of them in a mess of playful snarls and awkward nuzzling - adolescent and unthreatening as he let himself get pulled down with them. Swatting the pup on reflex as Derek's claws raked across his back and Scott tried and failed to give him the dirt equivalent of a face wash. Or at least he was right up until he watched Derek and Liam catapult over the edge of an embankment, down a small cliff and into a flower-padded gully and- oh hell no.
He scrabbled comically at the lip, prying century old roots out of worm-addled dirt, determined not to go without a fight. Part of him still clinging to the idea that he was normal and very much breakable. Watching first hand – and only distantly freaking out - as his nails grew into long dexterous claws. Anchoring himself deep enough that he was hanging from the edge, caught between satisfaction and terror as Liam catcalled from the gully underneath. Or at least he was until Scott flew, ass over tit after him, and pulled him down with him. Laughing manically, like a complete and utter lunatic as he yelped and they fell – possibly forever.
It was a weird sensation when he landed belly up, bouncing and rolling through the stupidly cinematic long grass and ferns. Feeling it was only fair to hook Scott by the armpits and toss him halfway across the gully with an irritated roar. Making everyone laugh – including himself – when the alpha nearly took out a sapling and caused Derek and Liam to skitter out of the way like frightened cats trying to avoid the fall out.
And, because it was only a matter of time, the three of them decided to work together and eventually he let himself get wrestled flat into the grass. Not really sure if there were words to say when the frantic scuffling and snapping lessened down into languid stretches and yawns and furnace-hot bodies that curled around his like they did this every day.
Acceptance. Belonging. Pack.
Those were the words not being said but airing out nonetheless as Scott watched him through eyes that were slung low – half-mast and content. He breathed in, throaty, leaning back with his arms bunched under his head, the steady weights of the others curled around him. Forcing each other to bend and intertwine as his personal space bubble wasn't so much as popped as it was decimated completely.
And strangely enough, that was okay.
It felt like denning.
Like home.
And no, he wasn't a wolf. No matter how good this felt, how right, there was a stark difference between them. A sense of awareness that not only differentiated the species but also kept the majority of his strength in check. Knowing, perhaps in the same way that the wolves knew how to hold themselves back around normal people, that he had to do the same with them.
Cubs.
In the darkest corners of his hind brain, that was what they'd always be. Vulnerable and eternally half-grown even when the entire group of them were saggy and grey and perusing brochures for 'hip retirement resorts' that were really just a fancy name for 'live here till you die' places and "spend most of your children's inheritance on Bingo Sundays in the common room." An observation he was going to probably have to keep to himself considering he got the feeling that none of them, even Liam, would probably appreciate the comparison.
He watched the forest canopy move with the world. Listening to the leaves make that pleasant, but completely indescribable sound they did when the wind filtered through them. Chewing on a laugh when Derek let out a rattling snore from somewhere around the vicinity of his right armpit.
And honestly, he wondered about himself sometimes, about how he was actually dealing with all this. He couldn't say without lying to himself that the confusing clusterfuck that had become his life was all bad anymore – or ever had been. Because sometimes he felt like he was falling apart, wondering if he was losing himself to whatever the hell this was. And other times, like right now, he felt remarkably calm about it. Just accepting the fact that part of him was already aware that he was on another tier when he came to the whole Supernatural freakshow and the jury was still out on if anything could actually come close to kicking his ass.
Only thing was, he didn't care about all that. He cared about this. Right here and right now. But mostly, he just cared about Chris. About his life without Chris in it and how much he knew, deep down to the very marrow of him that he'd rather fucking die. A realization which in itself was terrifying, only not as terrifying as it should be.
He felt weird about it.
Calm.
But weird.
"It's not always like that you know," Scott rumbled quietly, eyes flashing red only briefly before simmering back down into fondness. "What happened on the field? At Derek's the other night? Sometimes it's like this…good."
He blew out a breath like a sucker punch. Not realizing how much he needed to hear those exact words until they aired out. Heart doing that funny thing in his chest as Liam buried between them and he found himself thinking about Chris and that stupid eye crinkle he got when he smiled.
And yeah-
He was starting to get that.
"I'm starving. Can we eat?" Liam whined an indeterminable time later.
He yawned, popping his head out of the pile as the smell of crushed pine and dense soil made him sigh with contentment. Fully planning on sinking back down into the moving sea of warm limbs and pliant flesh and never moving again only to have his awareness of time and space come rushing back a few seconds later. Finding himself half smothered under a knot of combined skin that belonged to Parrish and Lydia - whom, quite frankly, he had no freakin' idea when they'd arrived.
Realizing in a yes, this is my life now sort of way that the sun was high and more than a few hours had passed somewhere in between him leaving his house and getting baited into a werewolf version of a puppy pile.
He resisted the urge to face palm, getting distracted when he looked over his shoulder and caught sight of Kira and Malia tucked under Scott's arms and Stiles stuck around Derek like cling wrap. Feeling a lot like he was trying to create his own language to understand the dynamics of all the different relationships that somehow seemed to be existing seamlessly alongside each other as he looked around him and wondered why he wasn't freaking out about all this like he probably should be. Just blinking a bit when Parrish's hand curled around his bare shoulder and kneaded into him with blunt nails. Echoing Lydia's syrupy sound of approval as she watched them from where she was caught in the crook of his arm. Long hair tickling across his chest in curly, reddish waves that caught the light every time his chest rose and fell.
And really, because why the hell not, he found himself answering.
"I know a place."
Chris was waiting in their booth at the diner when they piled through the door. Sporting a massive plate of fish and a determined expression as the man jerked a finger at the spot beside him and the others peeled off like dew in the morning. Crowding to the other side of the restaurant like a single, clamoring animal. Already calling out requests for coffee and menus as Jessie had a silent, but decidedly dignified coronary behind the front counter.
"Traitors," he hissed, hating himself for quite literally walking himself into this one as Chris stared at him pointedly. Broadcasting a look that quite clearly stated: get your furry ass over here before I get up and do it for you.
And wow- he didn't know he could be aroused and completely terrified at the same time.
Woo, self-discovery time.
He hesitated, tugging fitfully at the collar of the shirt he'd dug up from the depths of his car that smelled like sweat and stale air. Feeling decidedly unprepared for this level of emotional blitzkrieg even as he inhaled the man's scent like it was oxygen. Looking from Chris, to the fish, then back again. Crap.
"We are going to have a conversation," Chris declared, index finger tapping smartly on the scuffed table as he slid into the booth like a guilty child. "But first, you are going to eat."
Well, okay then.
"He did it on purpose, Bobby," Chris sighed patiently. In the same way people say don't wear your shoes on the carpet or don't run with scissors. Like it was painfully obvious and he was the only one not catching the neon painted clue bus.
"But why? I almost killed him. I wanted to. He had no right to touch you!" he hissed, suddenly dangerously close to a snarl before he freaked himself out when he realized his nails had turned jet back. Lengthening without his consent before he stuffed them under the table and breathed sharply through his nose.
"Jesus Christ," he hissed, counting down from twenty as Chris shifted and tangled their legs together. Soaking in the steady warmth of him under the gum-studded wood as the man watched him with an expression he couldn't quite figure.
"He hurt you," he muttered after a handful of beats. Almost sulking as the wrongness of it threatened to take him down all over again. Hoping that it passed for some sort of explanation as Jessie steamrolled across the linoleum and refilled their coffees without asking. Leaving him with nothing to do but watch as the man's pupils expanded the slightest of bits as neither of them made any move to pull away.
He licked his lips reflectively, feeling a self-satisfied curl of warmth in his gut when Chris followed it. Tinting the air with-
"They were right about us flying blind," Chris started slowly, clearly thinking the words through before he let them fly. "Deaton is still trying to get answers and when Derek asked about training, about testing your strengths and weaknesses, well, it made sense. I'll admit I didn't think that was exactly what he had in mind, but we learned something valuable out of it – your trigger is protective. It isn't aggression. Knowing that now gives us an advantage later."
He could feel the weight of the kid's eyes from across the room.
Probably eavesdropping with their stupid super-hearing bullshit.
But considering he was still one with his pettiness he didn't turn to look.
Refusing to give them the satisfaction.
"Thing is, when new wolves are freshly turned the slightest thing can set them off. Stress. Arousal. A loud noise, sometimes just the influx of new senses. That's why they are so dangerous. But not you. You break all the rules. Rules I didn't even know could be broken."
"Bobby, you're like a metronome," Chris whispered, half awe, half something else entirely. "Rock steady. Right now, what you just did? It takes most wolves years to learn. That kind of control? Even born wolves don't have that. You controlled yourself with barely a blink.
He snorted. "I work with teenagers," he shot back. Like that explained everything when honestly it really didn't. Because he knew himself and he still had vague memories of looking down at that arrow in his chest and screaming his head off.
The laugh he let go of was bitter. "I feel like I am falling apart," he admitted.
"But you aren't," Chris insisted, thigh pressing a fraction harder against his as he extended his hand – spider-spread – across the flat of the table. Until they were brushing knuckles and breathing was probably going to start becoming an issue pretty soon because he might have just forgotten how. "You haven't shifted, you haven't lost control. You're still you."
"How do you know that?" he rasped, low and angry and wounded and only slightly hysterical. "How can you know that? I don't even know that! I haven't felt normal for so long I don't remember what that feels like and that terrifies me, Chris! I don't understand what is going on in my head any more. I feel things- know things! I can smell you – I can smell me on you - and it scares me how good that makes me feel- how much I want to- I just- Sometimes I feel like I am losing myself and I can't-"
He cut himself off when Chris' palm fell over his own. Protective and weighing him down in all the right ways. Keeping him safe as the world tried it's best to fling him off into the stratosphere or possibly a black hole.
"Do you trust me?"
The answer was immediate. He didn't have to think about it, or agonize over it. It was instinctual and right in a way that everything else in his life hadn't been lately and he clung to that surety like a lifeline.
"Yes," he whispered. Nodding shallowly as he met the man's eyes without blinking. Breathing through the same realisations he could see taking shape across Chris' face as a small smile tripped onto his lips. Echoing each other with a painfully familiar rhythm he didn't question this time around.
"Then let's go home."
He nodded numbly, letting Chris throw down a wad of bills and herd him quietly out the door. Muzzily distracted by silent symphony playing underneath the man's skin as Chris tangled their fingers together the moment they were free of the dingy glass doors. A steady rock he couldn't help but cling to as they stumbled out into the open air.
A/N: Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – There will be more to come, stay tuned.