A/N: You may recognise this from my one-shot collection - doing a bit of rearranging to find some fics their new home.
Law of the Universe #493: Opposing statements, no matter how contradictory they seem, maintain the possibility of being both true and false at the exact same time. Nothing can be certain, and yet, everything is. In the split second that separates action from inaction, uncertainty lies. Until the guillotine falls, it is impossible to distinguish truth from falsehood. By that time, it is often too late for the inverse action to be taken. Such is the cruel reality of life.
Quil had been certain of many things in his short life.
First, he was biologically blessed to the max with his shapeshifter genes. Rockin' bod? Check. Super speed? Check. Freaky telepathy that taught you both quadratic equations and sex tips? Triple check.
Second, he knew his brothers would have his back until the end. No matter how many times he pestered Jake, or tormented Embry for the smallest sliver of entertainment, he was absolutely positive they'd go to bat for him without hesitation.
Third, that he was head-over-heels for Clearwater.
That part had recently proved to be especially problematic.
One minute, she was all "Quil, I miss you, come and see me," and he would, cantering on four legs for hours to reach her.
They'd spend the night together, and he'd put his telepathically acquired knowledge to excellent use, and life would be pretty damned sweet.
And then she'd turn her phone off for weeks and blank out in the pack mind without even murmuring a single goodbye.
It didn't make him any less crazy about her, but the rejection still stung like a bitch, especially when the entire pack were privy to his woes. Hell, he'd lost count of how many times he'd had to nip at Brady's heels to stop him running his fat mouth, and not even that act of violence could spark joy in his heart.
He missed her, and he resented her, all in the same breath.
Loving Leah was a walking contradiction.
The weeks pass by uneventfully; Quil lends a hand around Jake's garage, and the baby alpha mercifully doesn't ask any questions.
Seth feeds Quil little titbits of information whenever he can glean them (very rarely, much to their disappointment).
Leah doesn't phase.
Quil pretends not to miss her.
It's their new normal.
On the first day of Spring, Quil takes Kim's cousin out to dinner.
The girl's all smiles and giggles and sunshine, wrapping him in a lingering embrace the moment they meet, and he feels nothing. Not even a tiny little smidge. Little Quil doesn't even stir when she pinches his ass.
They eat greasy burgers in a corner booth, taking turns to feed quarters into the tinny dive bar jukebox, and he tries to muster up a convincing smile when she grabs his thigh in the middle of Jailhouse Rock
The smile slips pretty soon after, and melts away entirely when her hand inches upwards.
Quil jerks his body away, smacking his knee on the table when he shakes her hand loose.
She looks up at him with wide, startled eyes, her expression somewhere between embarrassment and disappointment, and he wishes, just for a second, that it could be her.
He doesn't not want Leah, but he still wishes he could want someone else.
Or, at the very least, that he could drown his sadness in some form of pity sex.
Hell, he could go for a depression hand-job.
(But only if it was Leah).
Quil goes home by himself that night, drowning his sorrows in bathtub moonshine and WWE pay-per-view.
He's home alone every night after that, too.
He tries not to think about Leah while he's phased - God knows that Seth can only hide his discomfort for so long - but thoughts and dreams and wishes filter through his mind like sand through an hourglass, flitting across the mental airwaves before he can rein them in. His memories are a real mixed bag, divulging everything from his various fantasies - I'd tap that ass seven ways to Sunday - to a picture-perfect recollection of her sleeping face smooshed against his chest, a precious memory from the last time he woke up beside her.
It doesn't help that every inch of La Push is suffused with Leah's energy; his eighteen years of life - and especially the past three years - have been consistently coloured by her presence, in both the good times and the terrible.
When he passes the stoop of the diner, he remembers watching Leah scream, red-faced and snotty, at Emily, moments after discovering her cousin had shacked up with her ex.
On the days his patrol route cuts across the clearing by the cliffs, the memories of last summer come flooding back like a tidal wave, reminding him of salty secrets and days spent diving over the scraggy outcrops.
His own house is the worst, though; it forces him to recall the innumerable days spent curled around each other on his patchwork couch, of falling in lust and watching it grow and change into something bigger.
When Leah left La Push, she took more than just her suitcase; she carries his heart wherever she goes, battering the poor thing like a rat in a dryer. And, sure, the hurt makes the consummation just that little bit sweeter, but it gives him no solace. With Leah, there's never certainty, never security. She's as ephemeral as the swell of the waves, and his years of watching the seas serve to remind him of the clearer message: embrace the moment, or let it dissipate.
Before he can think twice, he slips his phone out, punching in her number with all of the automaticity of muscle memory. She won't pick up - he knows that for certain - but there are some things that just need to be said, and he's waited long enough.
"Hey, you've reached Leah. Clearly, I don't want to talk right now. Leave a message. I'll call you back...maybe."
"Leah, you already know it's me. Maybe you'll listen to this. Maybe you won't. I don't care - I just need to say this, and then I can stop," he rambles, pressing his knuckles into his temples hard enough to make them throb.
"This was meant to be our chance. You know that we're good together - maybe you can lie to yourself, but don't lie to me. We work, Lee, and maybe that scares you. Maybe it scares me, too. Hiding doesn't make it any less scary, but it sure as fuck hurts me, and I bet it hurts you. Please, just talk to me. Tell me it's over. Tell me you never want to see me again. Hell, you can tell me anything. Just...stop shutting me out," Quil says, feeling his eyes burn. "Please...just say something. Anything. I know you're there."
The receiver clicks. "Q...I don't know what to say."
He exhales in a huge puff of air. "So don't talk. Just listen."
"Okay," she breathes, her voice a mere shadow of its usual commanding bark. "I'm here."
"Leah Clearwater, I'm in love with you. This might not be a Cusack-level declaration, but I mean it all the same. I love you," he insists, letting the relief wash over him. "And I know that you left. I know you don't want to come back. I'll never ask you to. Just...give me a chance. Please."me in."
"And then what? I have to sit around and watch you fall in love with some bitch from back home and go back to square one? You know I can't," she growls.
"I've imprinted, and you know she's practically my sister. I'm the safe bet. I'm the guy that'll fix your car at midnight and take your dog to the vet-"
"What, you're going to finally get Seth some healthcare?" she snorts.
"If that's what it takes to prove it to you, Lee. I'm serious about you, but I need you to give me something. Just tell me, and we can work it out. Are you serious about me?"
The silence is deafening. He knows she's still there - he can hear her breathing, short and laboured, and not much else.
"Am I your first choice, Lee?" Quil asks, forcing the words to come out.
"You're my only choice," she whispers, terrified. "But every time I see you...I see you leaving."
"Well, let's make a promise. I'd pinky promise you, but we're just a little bit too far away," he teases, relishing the sound of her watery chuckle. "I promise you that you'll always be my number one. I promise that you'll get the good, and the bad, and the ugly - which is just me waking up in the morning. Just be honest with me. That's all I'm asking."
"When Claire grows up-"
"Then I'll introduce you properly. She can meet her Aunty Leah, and she'll know that you're my best girl. And, hey - my dick's not the only thing that's big. My heart's large enough to love you both."
"Jesus," Leah scoffs, muffling a laugh. "I get it. Big dick, big heart, big ego."
"Now you're understanding!" he crows, sandwiching the phone between his shoulder and ear so he can give her a round of applause. "So, what've you got planned for Friday night?"
"Let me guess. You're going to show up, eat me out of house and home, and finish breaking my bed slats?" she asks.
"Damn right," he whoops, feeling lighter than he has in months. "How 'bout you pencil me in every Friday for the rest of the semester?"
"And after that?"
"Well, who knows where I'll be in three months. Maybe I'll be living in your neighbourhood. Maybe on your couch."
"I can deal with that," she concedes. "Hey, I'm glad you called."
"And I'm glad you picked up. No more hiding, yeah?"
"Fine. I'll tell Kim to stop setting you up on blind dates."
She hangs up before he can protest, and it's probably for the better. Of course Leah was behind the scheming - she probably egged on the gratuitous groping, too, in her typical self-flagellating way.
He taps out a text to Embry before his rational brain can take charge again, already picturing his over-the-top revenge.
Do you still know that firefighter stripper? I have a job for him...