Disclaimer: Teen Wolf characters are not mine.
A/N: Only one week into my second semester of nursing school, and I already wrote an entire chapter just to procrastinate on doing homework. :l Outrageous. Anyways, hope you guys are still interested in this story. Haha, I don't know if I should keep writing or just let it be. This is like the fourth "one shot." Oh, well. I do what I want. :P
I woke up when Derek rapped the wall twice with a knuckle. "Up," he said, using a tone that meant he'd probably already said it multiple times and I hadn't heard.
But it was early Friday morning, which meant that nothing was too important for me to get up for. The stupid alarm clock Derek had gotten me said school wasn't for another two hours.
"No," I groaned, bordering on the side of petulant. I shifted, burrowing deeper into the blankets to get away from the light.
Derek growled. "If you don't get up, I'm throwing away the rest of the Twinkies."
I pushed my head up with Herculean effort and cracked an eye open to evaluate the authenticity of that threat. Derek's face was pulled into a frown and he met my inquisitive gaze without blinking. But no. I dropped my head again. He wouldn't do it. Derek wasn't cruel or petty like that.
Lydia popped into my head, unbidden. Seems like she did that a lot lately. I groaned, replaying our conversation from three weeks ago. Banging my head onto my pillow repeatedly, I berated myself for running away. For still running away, really, seeing as how I continued to avoid Scott, Lydia, and Stiles like the plague.
If they were in class, I pretended they didn't exist. If they were walking towards me, I would go in a different direction. It wasn't that hard. It made me hate going to school, though. Derek still made me go, promising a month without Twinkies if I missed even one class.
I pushed my head under the pillow, trying to drown out the feeling of his green eyes staring holes in my brain. "Go away. I'm never getting up."
"Never?" Derek questioned, sounding mildly curious. He was humoring me. A couple months ago, he would have just ripped the blankets away and tipped my mattress onto the floor. He'd done it once. It hadn't been pleasant. I didn't miss that from him. Not at all. But these days he took a more hands-off approach.
"Lydia stopped by," Derek continued. My head shot up, panic suffusing through me. Derek smiled widely. "She didn't stop by. I just wanted to see your reaction."
Like I said, hands-off.
I scowled at him, flipping him off before diving back under the covers. I knew he didn't like it when I did that. The last time I'd flipped him off, he'd told me not to because it was offensive. I'd flipped him off again and used a popular comeback I'd heard around school, telling him his face was offensive, and then he'd wrestled me to the ground, pinning me until I'd surrendered.
"I'm never leaving," I reiterated from underneath my blanket mound, and Derek walked away without a word.
A few minutes later, I heard a soft crinkle coming from the kitchen. My head shot up out of the blankets and I held my breath in horror. Another plastic crinkle, this one followed by the sound of Derek licking his fingers.
I bolted from the bed, booking it to the kitchen in record time.
Derek was laughing when I skidded in, but he hadn't eaten any of my Twinkies. Just pretended to. No, he was actually just crinkling the wrapper on purpose, and when I came running in, he smirked and dropped the Twinkie into a brown paper bag that held my lunch.
I came to a stop, realizing I'd been tricked. Fucking hands-off methods.
Derek raised his eyebrows. "Thought you were never getting up?"
I scowled at him. "Prick," I muttered under my breath, turning to leave.
"Excuse me?" Derek's tone had gone brittle. He didn't like it when I used "offensive" language. His words, not mine.
He'd never cared before. Then Melissa McCall had given him some books. He kept them hidden, but I think they had some parenting stuff in them or something, because ever since, he'd been trying to clean up his act. And, by proxy, mine.
Healthier food. Stricter guidelines about behavior and school. He never threatened me with bodily harm anymore. Instead, he took away my Twinkies or made me do chores.
Swear or leave dirty clothes on the bathroom floor, lose the Twinkie in my lunch.
Get in a fight at school, lose Twinkies for a week.
Skip class, lose Twinkies for a month.
It was stupid, and I hated it.
The only upside was that Derek had to follow the rules too. He was a clean freak and he didn't swear too often, but when he did break a rule, he had to put a dollar in the Twinkie fund. It was good fun for a while, watching him forget and mess up until he somehow stopped altogether. Stupid self control.
Derek handed me my lunch then walked to the fridge. He glanced over his shoulder at me for a long second. "You're looking better."
I understood instantly what he meant. I was only wearing basketball shorts, which left my upper body bare. I looked down at myself, noting with pride that while all my muscles were tightly defined, my ribs were no longer showing. I wasn't malnourished anymore, which meant no more protein shakes.
Plus, sometimes when I ran shirtless on the track after school, the cheerleaders would giggle and stare. Coming from them, it didn't really mean much. But I remembered when Lydia had taken me shopping. She liked tight muscles. And my butt. She'd liked my butt a lot apparently. Still don't know why.
I shrugged, accepting his compliment. Derek was one to talk. He worked out obsessively and it showed. When we went to the store, all the ladies shamelessly stole glances at him. He didn't seem to notice, but I sure did.
"I think eating more has helped," he said, more to himself than to me. He could be right. I was up to two and a half meals per day.
A wicked grin sparked on my face, but I forced it back, becoming straight faced. "But not eating too much, right?" I asked casually.
He half turned from where he was spooning fresh blueberries onto two bowls of oatmeal, looking mildly confused. "Huh?"
I shrugged, fighting to keep my face innocent. " Because, you know, Coach keeps telling us that when you eat too much you get a little—" I eyed Derek, examining him thoroughly up and down as if deep in thought "—ehhhhh...flabby."
He went still. His face went blank. Closer...closer. A muscle in his jaw twitched. Oh, yeah. He was going to blow.
He dropped the blueberries onto the counter. "C'mere, you little shit," he roared. And off I went, running through the living room, laughing my ass off the whole way. Scooping up my shoes, I flew out the door and pounded down the stairs.
Derek only chased me halfway down the stairs before he gave up. I was way faster, even barefoot. When I reached the bottom, I pulled on the shoes and started running.
I'd started running again a few weeks ago. At first, I'd been a little scared that if I ran, I'd go full coyote. But Derek and I had worked through it, and now I couldn't believe that I'd ever stopped. I loved it. I seriously loved it.
I didn't run long. Just enough to take the edge off. And hopefully long enough that Derek had cooled down. Whenever I thought he was trying too hard at the taking care of me thing, I'd loosen him up. It was kind of my job, I guess.
I wanted to keep running, but I needed to eat and take a shower before school, so I turned around and backtracked to the loft.
Derek was collecting his tools when I got back. He probably had a work project today that he needed them for.
I jumped into the shower before making my way to the kitchen. He'd left my bowl of oatmeal out. I shoveled it into my mouth.
I didn't particularly like oatmeal or blueberries, but Derek said they were healthy. He also let me have a Twinkie every day, which were most definitely not healthy, so I didn't complain eating a his choice of breakfast.
Dropping my bowl in the sink and running water in it, I went to go find my backpack.
"Running or no running today?" Derek asked as he tossed the toolbag into the backseat of the car. I slid into the passenger side and pondered.
Sometimes I liked to go running after school, which meant Derek would pick me up later than usual. But I didn't really feel like it today. I'd go running at lunch, just a short one to make up for it.
"No running," I told him, sliding into the front seat.
He didn't comment, which I appreciated. He did hold up the keys, though. I shook my head, refusing just like I did every day.
Derek, for some weird reason, kept trying to get me to practice driving. But after the one experience—where Derek had probably been dying as Ghoul venom spread through his body and I'd had to drive him to the loft—I preferred to let him do the driving. He still offered, though.
Oddly enough, when I got to school, I didn't dread it. Stiles was in my first class. He stared holes in the back of my head, having learned long ago that any attempt to talk to me was unreciprocated. I ignored him, waiting patiently for lunch time so I could go out to the track and go for a short run in peace.
I bolted out of the desk as the bell rang, and he tried to follow. I ditched him easily and made it to my next class Stiles, Lydia, and Scott free.
Lydia tried to corner me after the end of fourth period. I did the cowardly thing and ducked into the boys locker room. She stood in the doorway, hands on hips. "You have to talk to us eventually, AJ," she called in annoyance. I changed into shorts as quickly as I could and booked it out to the track.
I didn't have to talk to them. I really didn't. I could avoid them for the rest of my life if I needed. And I fully planned to.
Any further stress and irritation faded as my feet started pounding the ground. I let it go, clearing my mind and focusing on my run. After a little bit, an itch started between my shoulder blades. Someone was watching me, I could feel it.
I clocked him on my third lap around the track. He was just standing there, making himself as small as possible.
I'd seen him around school a few times before. Nothing more than my eyes sliding over his face before flicking off down the hallway.
He was quiet and unremarkable. He'd tried to blend in. It had worked. Combing through my memory, I couldn't ever remember him walking down the hall and talking to his friends. He'd never stuck out to me.
Until now.
I passed him again, focusing on keeping my breathing steady. Sometimes when I ran, the coyote instincts took over, and I pushed myself harder and harder until I kind of ended up either shifting to my half form or collapsing with exhaustion. But Derek and I had been working on remaining steady and in control. It was hard, and I had to focus on it constantly, but it worked. No wild runs for me anymore.
Another lap. The guy hadn't moved, other than shifting nervously from foot to foot.
As I rounded the track on my sixth lap, I slowed. Then I jogged right up to him. He went still, a lot like prey do when cornered. I took the opportunity to study him.
He had curly brown hair sticking out all over the place. Small face, completely unthreatening. He was skinny and pretty short, not powerfully built like Derek or Scott and not lanky like me or Stiles. But he had on jeans and a blue t-shirt, which I could appreciate, seeing as how those were the only things I ever wore beside basketball shorts.
"What do you want?" I asked curiously, for once making an effort to make my voice softer and less callous. He seriously looked like any loud noise would make him bolt.
His heart started beating really hard, and his mouth moved for a few seconds with no words exiting. "I'm s-s-s-sorry," he finally got out, but the last word came out all jittery and paused. Did I really scare him that much? Probably.
Tiny guy, trouble speaking. He was practically the definition of "prey." At least in high school, anyways.
I clearly remembered when I'd first come back after being a coyote the second time. I hadn't been able to talk without mangling my words and sentences. Derek had been patient, helping me remember how to speak before making me go to school. Even when I hadn't really care what others thought, the idea of going to school unable to talk right had still scared me. So I knew what that was like.
I frowned at him, planting my hands on my hips as I panted. "Not what I asked," I reminded him grumpily.
His eyes went wide, and he took a step back. Then another.
Damn, he really was scared of me.
Instantly, I was flashing back to how I used to be around Derek—uncertain, scared I was going to mess up and he'd hit me or throw me out. I wracked my brain trying to remember how Derek had dealt with me.
It was weird, trying to think about it from both angles. Then I got it. Food. Derek had always bribed me pancakes and such.
The kid took another step back. He was headed for a raised patch in the asphalt, and if he didn't start looking as he backed up, then he'd probably fall. "Careful," I warned, crossing my arms in annoyance.
He took another step back, heel skiffing the uneven ground and promptly fell on his butt.
I rolled my eyes, stalking forward and pulling him upright by the shirt. "I did warn you," I informed him as he stared at me with huge eyes. I let go of his shirt and took a step back, not liking the way he was kind of shaking.
Dammit, why was he scared of me? I'd never done anything to him.
Now, where were we? Oh. Food.
"You want a Twinkie?" I asked finally. Because he'd ruined my run and now all I wanted was a Twinkie. I didn't wait for him to reply, just went to the small metal bleachers and pulled my backpack open.
Hesitant steps behind me let me know that he'd followed. I pulled out my two Twinkies before walking back and shoving one towards him.
He didn't take it right away, eyes roving around like he thought I might be playing a trick on him. Sometimes I'd felt that way with Derek, like it was too good to be true and something was going to take it all away eventually. I didn't worry about that anymore, Derek had made sure of that.
Finally, his hand darted up and he grabbed the crinkly package out of mine. I sat down on the bleacher, unwrapping my prize. I loved Twinkies. Loved them so much.
The kid sat down next to me, moving slowly and gingerly. I got it. He still thought it was a trap or something.
"There's a lot of sugar in these," I told him, wondering if he'd get a sugar high like I used to.
"T-T-Twinkies have th-th-the s-s-same ingredients used in r-r-rocket fuel and s-s-s-shampoo," he said before quickly looking down at his shoes.
I twisted in my seat, staring at him. "No shit?"
He peeked over at me slightly before grinning, smiling for the first time in my memory. He peeled open his package and took a big bite.
Then I shrugged. "I still like 'em," I said, licking some of the cream off my fingers.
He ate quietly, and I leaned back on the bleachers, resting my elbows on a higher step. "You got a name?" I couldn't remember hearing it in the hallways. In fact, I couldn't remember ever seeing him talking to anyone before.
He glanced over at me, seemingly surprised. "R-R-R-Robbie."
I scratched my nose, letting out a yawn as the sun made me kind of sleepy. It was getting colder these days, as winter snuck closer and closer. But the sun was still nice.
"Why were you watching me?" I asked, now that Robbie was calmly sitting on the bleachers next to me.
Silence.
I cracked an eye open to find that Robbie was staring down at his hands. I closed my eyes again. Whatever. It wasn't that big of a deal anyways.
It seemed like an eternity but eventually he answered. "I want t-t-to r-r-run like you."
I wrinkled my nose. He wanted to run like me. Hah. If only he knew. If I didn't run I got edgy and angry and sometimes violent. Derek had literally mandated that I needed to run at least four times a week to blow off steam. I didn't think Robbie was quite cut out for running like me.
"Why?" I asked, kind of interested in finding out.
Heat suffused Robbie's cheeks, and anger sparked in his eyes. Hands clenched, pulse rising. He was mad about something. "R-R-Ryan s-s-s-shoves me into lockers. You beat him up. I want t-to do t-t-that."
I raised my eyebrows. Ryan? Oh, the guy I'd pounded on the day of the full moon. I'd gotten detention for it. Not a great moment, that one.
I flicked my eyes up and down Robbie, taking him in with one critical gaze. He'd never be able to take on Ryan. Not without another six inches and probably another fifty pounds after that.
But I didn't say that.
"Can I r-r-ru-run with you t-t-tomorrow?"
I glanced over at Robbie, and he was looking back at me with wary eyes. Wary probably because he thought I'd tell him to bugger off.
No, go away. That's what I wanted to say. Instead, I flashed back to Derek. I'd given him that look many times. Wary, worried. And he'd repaid me with nothing but quiet support. And sometimes smacks to the back of the head if I was being particularly dense.
But not once had he ground me under his heel and crushed my confidence. And I could see that was what was going to happen if I told Robbie no. He was already starting to wilt as the silence grew longer.
So I fought back a sigh and shrugged. "If you can keep up."
Robbie's smile stretched impossibly wide and I scowled, crossing my arms. "Cool it. It's just running." But he didn't cool it. In fact, as the bell rang for the end of lunch, he got up and followed me back into the school.
Shit. What had I done?
The next day, Robbie was there. He wore shorts and a t-shirt this time. Slinging his backpack onto the bleachers next to mine, he came to jog next to me.
I refused to slow down for him, though after I lapped him for the fifth time, I kind of just jogged next to him so he wouldn't just up and quit.
The next day, he was back. We ran again, and he still sucked. I didn't like sharing the track with him. It was irritating.
The third day, I decided I hated him, so I didn't even talk to him as I ran. Despite me ignoring him, he kept a steady, ridiculously slow, pace behind me.
Day four. I still thought he was annoying, though I was beginning to respect his determination. He was scrawny and slow, but he just kept plugging away at it.
The following Monday he was back. I'd kind of been hoping he'd just give up, but there he was. I sighed, starting out my run. He kept pace with me for an entire lap this time before falling behind.
By Wednesday, he made it two laps before I lost him. Then he huffed and puffed along, going as fast as he could. It was pretty slow, but it didn't piss me off anymore that he ran with me.
Thursday, I jogged by him and asked if he liked school or not. He did. A lot. I guess smart people have it easy and don't hate it as much as regular people.
After our run, I scarfed down my lunch and started walking into the school.
Robbie caught up to me and handed me a Twinkie, looking down at the ground as he stuttered a "thank you." Then he ran off. Well, it was more of a slow meandering jog, since he was pretty winded.
I decided he had to be a pretty swell guy if he went around giving people Twinkies.
Friday, Robbie wasn't at the track. I hesitated, looking around. I almost decided to just go for my run without him. But something didn't feel quite right, so I backtracked into school and started tracing Robbie's scent.
Lydia saw me in the hallway and called my name. I moved past her, inhaling deeply as I locked onto Robbie's scent.
"What the hell, AJ?" she demanded, grabbing onto my elbow. "You can't ignore me forever."
I stopped suddenly, and she ran into me. Turning around, I sniffed her hair, loving the fact that she used strawberry shampoo. "I miss you," I told her in a random fit of candor. "You smell good."
Then I took a step back. "I have to find Robbie," I said, refocusing as I started to walk again. She stood stock-still in the middle of the hallway for a long moment, clearly stunned.
The she windmilled her hands about wildly, starting after me. "You can't just say something like that to a girl and walk away. Where are you going? Come back here. AJ!"
I followed Robbie's scent to the locker room. Lydia barged in after me, still talking about who knows what. She came to a standstill and fell silent a few seconds after I did.
Ryan, the guy I'd beat up before the full moon, was with three of his friends, all crowded in front of a large locker. They were laughing and joking, but they stopped when we walked in.
"Nothing to see here," Ryan said.
I stared at him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, losing the smile. "Beat it," he told me.
I narrowed my eyes, hearing a heartbeat coming from inside the locker. I could also smell fear. And whiff of urine. And Robbie.
Robbie was inside the locker.
"Robbie," I said slowly.
"AJ," he called back, voice high and reedy. "I'm in t-t-the locker-r."
I turned back to Ryan.
"Oops," he said with a smirk.
Anger burned hot in my chest. I tried to remember the breathing trick Derek had taught me. I couldn't.
Robbie was inside the locker because he was little and the other boys were big. He'd only started running with me so he'd be able to make them leave him alone.
The anger turned white hot.
Robbie was trapped inside a fucking locker.
"Oops is right, asshole," I said darkly. Red suffused my vision. I was going to kill him.
"AJ," Lydia murmured quietly, touching my arm in warning.
I froze, dialing my rage back a notch. School. We were at school. I wasn't allowed to fight or kill or maim at school.
Twinkies were at stake here.
"AJ?" Robbie called out, voice small and ashamed and tired.
Twinkies and Derek's no fighting rule or Robbie?
"Fuck it," I sneered, shaking off Lydia's touch and launching myself forward at the boys.