Chapter Six

"Unspoken Part 2"

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The sun was setting over Beacon Hills. It cast long, tired shadows across the pavement as Stiles steered the Jeep to the curb in front of the Argent home. He brought them to a stop and nudged the gearshift to neutral, then turned the key. The occupants of the Jeep were left in relative silence when the engine cut out, but none of them seemed to mind. No one was in a hurry.

Finally Scott got out through the passenger door and pulled the seat forward so Derek, then Chris could exit.

As Chris stepped onto the curb his light blue eyes flickered from Scott to Stiles, then back again. "Thank you for the ride," was all he said.

"Any time," said Stiles through the window. "Thanks for... you know..." He and Scott glanced at each other.

But Chris didn't need to hear it. He nodded his head and settled his gaze on Scott. "You're welcome." There was no suspicion in his tone, no judgment, or condemnation. For the first time, Scott didn't feel like he was looking at a man who wanted to kill him.

Then Chris broke eye contact and turned toward the house.

Scott looked over at Derek. Derek leaned against the side of the Jeep, and after a pause, Scott leaned beside him. They watched Chris's retreating back.

Derek's eyes were somber and pale. The stillness in his gaze and posture was how Scott felt on the inside. He had done a lot of thinking during the long miles through the Preserve to the road. They hadn't really talked, not even Chris. They had hiked in relative silence, giving Scott a chance to order his mind. Some things had become clear to him... obvious things; things he should never should have come so close to forgetting...

He wasn't a murderer.

Now, feeling more and more like his feet were finally on the ground, Scott wondered if he looked as bad as Derek did. He probably looked worse.

There was a hint of distress in Derek's features, and Scott saw it. He watched Derek for a minute. Then Derek met his eyes, and he shifted his weight slightly.

"Do you understand?" Derek's voice was strained; Scott's silence clearly bothered him.

But then Scott gave Derek a short nod of his head. It was an affirmation, however fleeting or reluctant.

Derek's nostrils flared slightly and he looked away from Scott, inhaling deeply. He nodded his head and exhaled.

The rest of what passed between them on the quiet street was unspoken, and neither of them seemed to want it another way.

The porch light of the Argent home flicked on as soon as Chris neared the front steps. The front door creaked as it swung open, then a hushed exclamation reached their ears. "Dad! What is this - what are you covered in?"

Scott's heart thundered in his chest at the sound of Allison's voice. He tried to see around Chris's shoulders to catch a glimpse of her.

"We'll talk about it later, Allison," answered Chris as he tried to move inside.

Then...

"Scott?"

Allison had seen him. She pushed past her father as though he were a hanging curtain and trotted down the steps toward the Jeep.

Scott straightened up, his eyes fixed to hers as she neared. "Hi, Allison."

Allison looked at his torn jeans and ripped jacket with a sparkle of matronly disapproval in her eyes. She shot a puzzled glance toward Derek. Then she must have spotted some blood that Scott had missed, because a moment later she closed the distance between them, and reached up to brush his hair away from his forehead.

Scott went momentarily rigid. He stared into her eyes, his own eyes slightly widened. He breathed deeply through his nose.

When her fingers touched his temple, a shiver ran through him. Goosebumps stood out on his skin, but his body felt warm.

"What happened to you, Scott?" She asked in concern, inspecting something near his hairline. Then she looked into his eyes expectantly.

Scott lost himself in her gaze. Every burden lifted off his shoulders as he allowed himself to bask in the sight of her. A smile touched his lips; his first smile in what felt like a very long time.

"Don't worry about it," he answered gently. He wanted to lean closer to her. He wanted to be near her hair, near her lips - he wanted to hold her.

But Chris had strode back down the walkway and stopped a few meters away to watch them pointedly.

Scott tore his eyes off Allison's face to look at Chris.

When Scott looked at him, something tugged at Chris's heart. He didn't know what it was... within reason, he should want the McCall boy to stay as far away from Allison as possible. He should want no contact between them at all. And that was what he wanted.

But Scott wasn't just another werewolf to him anymore. After what he'd seen and heard, Argent was convinced Scott wasn't just another werewolf to other werewolves, either. There was something different about him - something good. It couldn't hurt to let them have a small moment together.

Chris sighed in defeat and turned his back on his daughter and Scott. He walked back to the front porch where his wife awaited him.

Scott thought he knew what Chris's actions meant. He was giving him some slack. It was a fraction of permission to act on his feelings, and Scott didn't know if he would get the chance again.

His eyes shone and he looked back at Allison. Breathing stronger, he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers.

Allison seemed to melt against him, kissing him back.

Scott brought his hands to the sides of her face, and Allison curled her fingers in the back of his hair. Her lips were soft and warm. Her scent surrounded Scott, filling and saturating him.

"Allison!" Barked Chris's voice from the porch.

Apparently Scott had stretched the slack a little too tightly.

Allison broke off the kiss, pulling back. Her eyes found Scott's. There was a growing smile of delight on her lips, and no trace of her earlier concern. She smiled widely, looking up at him.

Scott was unable to look away from her. He didn't want to.

"Let's go, Allison," said Chris in a louder voice.

Allison giggled, twisting her fingers among Scott's fingers in a display of shy endearment. "Sorry," she said, rocking forward a little. "I have to go."

Scott's smile faded a little as he nodded his head. "Yeah. See you in school."

He didn't let go of her hand until Allison pulled it away. She smiled over her shoulder at him as she walked to the door.

Chris received her with one arm around her shoulder to shepherd her inside. Scott caught one more indiscernible look from the man before Chris closed the front door, and the porch light flicked off.

Scott stood there staring at the shadowy façade of Allison's home. A minute passed before Derek cleared his throat.

Scott glanced at him.

Derek was still leaning comfortably against the side of the Jeep. Now there was a different sort of look in his eyes... like he didn't care to hide his relief anymore. And that didn't make sense, given that Allison was an Argent.

"Let's go," said Derek, clapping Scott gently on the back. Derek opened up the door and got into the back, and Scott slipped into the passenger side in the front. He looked over at Stiles.

Stiles was staring at him as though he were looking at a creature from outer space.

"What?" Said Scott, unable to stop himself from grinning slightly.

Stiles' mouth was agape. "You just kissed the werewolf hunter's daughter."

Scott's smile grew a little. "I know."

"You kissed her right in front of the werewolf hunter."

"I know. Stop calling him that."

"That's what he is. And you just kissed his daughter right in front of him."

Scott turned away from Stiles, still smiling. "Yeah, I know."

Derek leaned forward from the back. "If anyone's going to give Scott a hard time about the hunters, it's me," he said in a tone of finality. "Leave him alone, Stiles. Drive."

Stiles grumbled something about taxi fares, but he put the Jeep in gear and pulled away from the curb.

Scott watched Allison's house disappear behind them. He kept staring out the window long after he couldn't see it anymore. He could still feel Allison's soft lips on his, and it was all he could think about. He didn't need to think about Peter, or what the alpha had done. Allison never needed to know...

In the back, Derek settled against the seat. He kept his eyes on the back of Scott's head. The relief that had flared a minute ago now dissipated, trickling away like sand through a sieve. Neither of them could see his expression, so he didn't bother composing it. He was worried about the future, and he was worried about Scott. It was written all over his face.

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Chris Argent was seated in the living room. The clock on the table read almost eleven at night, and his only light was a small desk lamp. There was a fire laid in the fireplace, but he hadn't taken the time to light it.

He leaned forward, bent over a book in front of him, perusing the pages with determined intensity. His finger moved across the leather pages, going from page to page. His other hand rested near his chin, the fingers scratching the stubble on his chin.

The front door banged open, and Chris looked up. His sister Kate strode in and shut the door behind her. She looked frazzled and tired, and close to the end of her rope.

Chris stood up as Kate walked over. She came over without a word and sat down on the couch, putting her feet up on the table.

"Careful," said Chris, moving the leather-bound book out of the way of Kate's boots.

Kate dropped her feet back down. "That's the welcome I get? Do you know the hassle I've been through?"

Chris raised his eyebrows and shook his head. He already had a reprimand ready. "You shouldn't have been carrying. Not in town, or at least just something subtle. A nice berretta, would that be hard?"

Kate threw up her hands. "You know how I feel about berrettas," she groaned. "Couldn't you spare the time to come and pick me up yourself? Your friends are idiots."

Chris sat back down where he'd been before. "Sorry about that. I was glad to be alive, I wanted to get home and see my family." There was a touch of sharpness in the inflection of his tone.

It looked like it stung Kate a little, but she was more interested in something else. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

Chris shook his head tiredly. "I'll tell you about it in the morning," he said firmly. "I was trying to get some reading done."

Kate frowned. "What, in the bestiary?"

"It's nothing," said Chris. "I should get to bed."

Kate looked disappointed, but she didn't press it. "Before you do, just tell me one thing: did we get them?"

Chris's patience was wearing thin in his fatigue, but he managed to hold it together. He nodded his head. "Yes. The alpha's dead."

Kate waited a moment, then probed further. "And the two betas?"

Chris looked at her sternly. "The betas won't be a problem," he told her. "We'll leave them alone."

Kate stared at him, speechless. It was a new thing for her, and she quickly overcame it. "You're kidding, right Chris?"

"We go by the code, Kate. If they become a problem, then it's our problem. But not until then."

"You just want to let them go?" Kate sounded like the idea was laughable to her. "I can't believe you're serious. They could have information, Chris. Information that we need. They could know other werewolves, other alphas."

"Kate," rumbled Chris, standing up. "Listen closely to me. We will adhere to the code. The two betas will not be harmed."

Kate stood up too. "You and the code..." She grabbed a box of matches off the mantel and flipped it over in her hands, looking down at it. Her pacing slowed, and after a moment she turned back around to face Chris.

He had been watching her. "Is that understood?" He asked calmly and clearly.

Kate leaned on her hip, swaying playfully. She gave Chris an impish smile, her eyes bright and innocent. "You know me, Chris." She smiled a little wider. "I always play by the rules."

She struck a match, dropping it into the fireplace, and the laid tinder erupted in flames.

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