See me bare my teeth:
It's the middle of November by the time you're ungrounded. Which was...annoying, but you think Lydia was even more annoyed than you, considering you missed her Halloween party. Scott and Isaac were bummed out too, but you could always drag one or both of them into your car after school. And you actually got bored enough on the weekends to study, so your grades are improving too.
You're free just in time for yet another supernatural disaster. Well, maybe disaster is overstating it. Mishap, more like.
Apparently, Stiles's dad has been going back through old cases looking for things that may have been supernatural and found some family that had been in a car crash on the full moon eight years ago. The mother and youngest daughter had been killed, by coyotes it was thought at the time. The older daughter was never found. Until now.
Her name is Malia and as a result of living as a coyote for the last eight years, she has absolutely no idea how to function in human society. You have no idea why that's your problem now that she's human again and not breaking into your school and terrifying innocent high schoolers, but since her father is a complete psycho who tried to shoot her, oh, my God, Scott feels responsible for making sure she's reintegrating okay.
Which would fine if she wasn't so annoying.
"I don't want to wear pants," she tells Scott, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring. "It feels weird."
"We can't go outside unless you put them on," Scott explains kindly while Stiles and Isaac blatantly stare at her bare legs. At least she's wearing underwear.
You kick Isaac in the shin.
"Ow," he says. "What? I'm not allowed to look?"
You give him an unimpressed look.
"You could wear shorts," Stiles says, pointing to the pile of old clothes you Lydia and Erica pooled together to give her. The shorts are definitely Lydia's. "Also, you probably wear a bra. And shave."
"No," Malia snarls at him and Scott steps forward to put a hand gently on her shoulder. She scowls and walks across her nine-year old bedroom to grab the shorts and put them on.
"Fine," she says after wriggling around in them a bit to test their range of motion. "Can we go now?"
"What about shoes?" Stiles says and Malia lets out an angry growl and chucks one of the stuffed animals on her pale pink bedspread at his head.
Fifteen minutes later, dressed in Lydia's old jean shorts, one of Erica's oversized sweaters that disguises the fact that Malia absolutely refuses to wear a bra, and your old flip flops, you leave Malia's house and drive to meet Lydia, Erica, and Boyd at the Chinese place. Malia almost immediately complains about being cold, because it's November, and only wants to eat raw meat at the restaurant, but she actually tries some white rice, which according to Stiles is progress.
Isaac likes Malia, and not just because her penchant for nudity. At first he was annoyed at how much of Scott's time she was taking up, but then her first words to Stiles were "Why do you smell so weird?" and he decided that she is hilarious. Malia mostly ignores the rest of you as irrelevant, but for some reason she is incredibly suspicious of Stiles and spends a good deal of the time they're in a room together watching him closely.
Derek and Cora don't really know what to think of her, though you know Scott occasionally asks them for advice about born werewolves. You and Isaac pointedly do not voice your opinions about Derek's teaching skills, but Scott seems to know anyway and always look sort of apologetic when he brings it up.
During one of these sessions, you meet Derek's girlfriend for the first time.
She's a tall black women with long hair, a nasty set of scars on her neck, and a gun strapped to her hip. She doesn't seem interested in you, exchanging a couple words with Scott before turning back to Derek, but something about her rubs you the wrong way. Maybe it's the way she scans you all briefly before deciding you're not worth her time. But that's stupid. She's clearly in her mid-twenties; being uninterested in teenagers (unlike some other people) is probably a good sign.
Stiles, unsurprisingly, thinks she's evil.
"C'mon, you don't think she's even a little bit suspicious?" he complains when you're all sprawled in Scott's living room eating Jimmy John's. "She's a bounty hunter, for God's sake! What if someone hires her to murder us all?"
"Why would someone hire anyone to murder us all?" Lydia asks, mostly to be contrary.
"Because this is a terrible town," Stiles says darkly.
"I don't think she would kill us. She saved Isaac," Scott replies, frowning.
"Yeah, 'cause Morrell paid her to. What if someone decides to pay her to kill him? Not that I'd be all that broken up about i-"
"Stiles," Scott says sharply, sitting up from your shoulder to give him an unimpressed look.
"Fine, fine," Stiles says, rolling his eyes and holding up his hands in defense, missing the nasty look Isaac gives him.
"Getting paid to save someone is a lot different than getting paid to kill someone," Scott says reasonably.
"What part of bounty hunter do you not understand? And she totally said she'd kill me if someone paid her when I asked her last week!"
"That's just because you're really annoying," Isaac puts in, smirking at Stiles cruelly.
"Alright, that's it, asshole," Stiles scowls, scrambling to his feet. "You've got a proble-"
Before he can start a fight, Malia drags him back down next to her on the couch and slaps a hand over his mouth. "Quiet," she snarls. "Why are you always so noisy?"
Stiles makes an indignant sound against her hand and tries to speak, but it comes out muffled and incoherent.
"Quiet," Malia orders again, grabbing the back of his neck with her other hand and shaking him slightly before releasing him.
"Okay, do we need to go over the personal space less- okay, shutting up!" Stiles says quickly at Malia's growl.
Malia smiles in satisfaction and sits back against the couch, oblivious to the stares of everyone else around her. Isaac is smirking so widely you're afraid his face is going to crack, and Scott looks rather concerned at Malia's behavior, but Lydia just looks disdainful and aloof. So it's a day of the week that ends in 'y'.
"Look, I really don't think there's anything to worry about," Scott says, returning to their earlier conversation. "She seemed fine to me. And Erica and Boyd said she's here helping Morrell with protecting Beacon Hills."
Erica and Boyd, great judges of character there, you think. Clearly a reliable source of information.
"Morrell? Yeah, clearly a reliable source of information," Stiles grumbles, but doesn't seem interested in pursuing the subject any further.
"Okay, it's almost 3, time for you to go," Isaac decides, getting to his feet, eyes skating purposefully over you and Scott. "Scott, Allison, and I have stuff to do."
Everyone but Malia groans, Scott's cheeks flaming.
"Gross," Stiles says in disgust, glaring at him. "I didn't want to know that!"
"Hey, just because you aren't getting any-"
"Finish that sentence and you won't be getting any either," you snap, and then feel your face burn in embarrassment once you realize what you just said.
It does shut Isaac up, though. Next to you, Scott is hiding his face in his hands.
"What are they going to do?" Malia asks Stiles, looking at you in confusion.
"Nothing!" Stiles says hastily, cheeks turning a splotchy red. "Nothing at all."
Malia continues to look between you, Scott, and Isaac in bewilderment. Then her eyes widen in understanding, and you can practically see the lightbulb go on over her head. "Oh, you mean sex things," she says, sounding relieved to have figured out what is going on.
She frowns when you all stare at her in horror. "What? Is that another thing I'm not supposed to talk about?" She looks to Scott automatically, but as he's still hiding his face in his hands, she moves on to Stiles next.
"No, yes, I mean, no talking about it," he says awkwardly.
"But they're always talking about it on TV," she says, brow furrowed in genuine puzzlement. "And then in that Battlestar show you showed me they actually-"
"Stiles!" Scott says indignantly, raising his head finally. "You showed her Battlestar Galactica?"
"I forgot about the sex scenes!" Stiles says defensively.
"Is it because it's three people?" Malia continues horrifyingly. "I haven't heard people talking about that before. I've never been with three people. Well, I've never been with any people, but when I was a coyote I used to-"
It only gets worse from there.
After fifteen minutes, Malia and Stiles leave, the former having been thoroughly educated on appropriate discussion topics and the latter whining piteously about being scarred for life. Lydia follows them with a vaguely disgusted look on her face, and when Scott shuts the door behind, he groans and leans his forehead against it.
"Okay, that was disturbing," even Isaac admits with a grimace. His perturbation only lasts for a second though. "Can we go upstairs?" he asks Scott hopefully.
"Yes," Scott says decisively, pulling back from the door. "Let's do that."
Boys, you think, rolling your eyes as Isaac grins and clambers up the stairs, Scott on his heels.
But you follow them upstairs anyway, because, really, a distraction would be nice after that disaster.
"Hey, you're kind of quiet," Scott says, when the three of you are curled up naked in his bed half an hour later.
"Maybe I'm reminiscing," you say with a lazy smirk and kiss his bare chest gently. Isaac is plastered to his back, snoring quietly, having completely worn himself out.
"Yeah, um, that was..." Scott says, blushing.
Isaac had been very...enthusiastic, fucking you with the perfect rhythm and pressure on your clit. Then he'd blown Scott diligently, and slid up his body after he'd come and murmured that he should totally finger him.
Which was weird, but surprisingly hot, Isaac squirming back of Scott's fingers, making low gasping noises while Scott held him steady and stroked him off, sucking a mark into his shoulder.
You hadn't really thought much about Scott fucking Isaac, or the other way around. It seemed kind of, well, gay, but it was all you could think of while Scott fingered him, how hot it would be, Scott holding him down and just giving it to him.
It shouldn't have been surprising, the thought that Isaac would like being fucked. Isaac's kind of a slut like that.
"You're not thinking about Malia, are you?" he asks worriedly.
"No," you say, grimacing, because the last thing you want to think about is coyote sex. "No, I was just...Braeden. I dunno, she's a supernatural bounty hunter. You don't think that's a little suspicious?"
"She saved Isaac's life," Scott says for the second time. "And she's working with Morrell, who I just found out is Deaton's sister."
You blink. "That... makes a lot of sense."
"Deaton vouches for her," Scott says with a shrug. "I know she was working with the Alpha Pack, but apparently she spent most of the time mitigating the damage they did."
"Okay," you say dubiously, still not convinced.
Scott pulls you closer to his chest and kisses you gently. "Hey," he says, looking into your eyes earnestly. "It's going to be okay. Anything that comes after us, we'll take care of it. We're stronger now than we've ever been before."
You guess that's true. Seven werewolves, two druids, a banshee, and a bounty hunter make it a lot more likely you'll be able to deal with problems in the future. If only you weren't the second-most useless person out of everyone. You're more useful than Stiles, but that doesn't make you feel any better. Maybe you should start taking self-defense classes again. But you don't want to do anything that would encourage your parents to bring you into the fold, and they'd been so annoying about them a couple weeks ago when some lacrosse player in your class got arrested for stalking some freshman girl.
You don't think much about Braeden over the next few days until you run into her at the grocery store on Wednesday night.
The sight of her putting a jar of peanut butter in her shopping basket is so bizarre that you just stare at her back for a second, and don't turn around in time to get away before she sees you.
She blinks at you when she catches you looking, recognition flashing across her face after a moment. "Hi?" she says, raising an eyebrow quizzically.
"Uh, hi," you say awkwardly, tightening your grip on your shopping cart and feeling your face flush.
"You want something?" she asks before you can flee.
"Uh, no, I mean, I wanted to ask about your gun belt," you say, as it's the first thing that pops into your head. She's not wearing it now, of course, and she looks almost naked without it. "I mean, where you got it. I-I don't have one, so..."
Oh, God, you think, as she stares at you blankly, and wish you could disappear now. It suddenly becomes very obvious why you're uncomfortable at even the mere mention of her.
You're jealous. She's a strong, confident bounty hunter, with years of experience holding her own and you're just sort of a mess in comparison. You're in better shape now, but you have absolutely no fighting abilities and rusty shooting skills. It was a miracle you managed to hit Gerard and even then it was only because your gun did most of the work. Compared to her you're just a dumb teenager playing with guns. A fraud.
"Uh, to be honest, I don't even remember," Braeden says, glancing down at where the belt would be on her waist. She looks up at you curiously. "You know, I might have an old one you could have."
"No, that's okay," you say quickly, wanting nothing more than to run away and hide on the opposite end of the store until she's gone.
"Nah, you can have it, I have too much stuff anyway," she says easily. "Hey, where do you go to shoot around here? Practice, I mean."
"Oh, I don't...I don't really practice," you reply, inwardly cringing at how much of an amateur that makes you sound. "I took lessons as a kid, but then I gave it up for a while."
"Yeah, there really aren't any ranges close by," she says, mercifully overlooking your pathetic stuttering. "I think the closest one's an hour north of here."
She looks at you searchingly for a second. "Wanna come with?"
"Isaac, what are you doing here?" you ask when you finally find him sitting against the wall in the corner of the school library.
He shrugs, not bothering to look up at you. "Studying," he grunts, thumbing a page of the notebook in his lap.
"Why are you doing it here?" you ask, utterly confused. "Aren't you going to eat lunch?"
Isaac just shrugs again, doing a terrible job pretending not to be upset. You sit down next to him and peer at his face carefully.
"She bought me a bed," Isaac says finally, your silent patience paying off after a minute. His shoulders go stiff, teeth gritted in frustration. "Melissa, she...she bought me a bed."
"Oh," you say blankly. "Is it...is it not a good bed?"
Isaac snorts with unamused laughter. "No," he says bitterly, glaring down at his notebook. "I just...I didn't want her to do that."
Why? "That airbed was sort of terrible," you tell him.
Isaac's mouth twists in a scowl. "It was fine. I didn't need...I'm with Scott most nights anyway."
Oh. You didn't know that and the realization makes warmth flood through you. A little jealously, too, but mostly warmth, because you're so happy that they get to be together.
You reach out to touch his arm, but he flinches away a little and then relaxes.
"What?" you say, confused why he's shying away.
Isaac just looks at the ground miserably for a second. "If she finds out, she'll...she'll be so mad," he says quietly.
Oh. That's what this is about.
"We don't know that," you tell him, sliding over to press your shoulder against his.
Except you kind of do. There's no way Scott's mother would be happy to find out her son and foster kid are involved in a sexual relationship. You're not sure she would throw him out, but she certainly wouldn't be comfortable with him staying with them anymore and Isaac knows it. You're not sure if Scott does, or if he's just trying not to think about it.
"It's going to be okay," you tell him for lack of anything better to say and snuggle into his side. Isaac relaxes into you automatically and you're quiet for a couple minutes.
"I got all your texts," Isaac says after a bit. "Why are you going to a shooting range with Braeden?"
"She asked," you reply. "And I need practice."
"I don't think you need practice," he says, sounding uncomfortable.
"I do," you say flatly. "Just in case."
Isaac doesn't reply and instead leans down to rest his head on your shoulder, playing with a couple strands of your hair, still slightly damp from your morning shower. You sit in silence until the bell rings.
"He okay?" Scott asks before Gym, looking around the gymnasium for Isaac.
"Yeah, he will be," you tell him, offering a reassuring smile.
Scott still looks worried. "He just...he's been so quiet. He wouldn't talk at all last night..."
"He does that, " you tell him gently. "Just give him time."
"Okay," Scott says, clearly unhappy about not being able to help. Isaac comes out of the boy's locker room and you watch Scott visibly restrain himself from going to him.
Isaac mopes around for the rest of the day, but by last period he stops avoiding your gaze, and sits quietly next to you in French, doodling on his worksheet.
"Have fun," he tells you dubiously as you walk out of the building to your car.
You shrug and smile wryly. "I'll try."
"Text me when you get home," Isaac says, like he's worried you might accidentally shoot yourself at the range.
"If you talk to Scott," you counter, pulling your keys out of your purse. "He's worried about you."
"Okay," Isaac concedes, looking a little guilty. He sticks his hands in his pockets, shoulders slumping and kicking at a pebble on the ground next to your car while you throw your backpack in the backseat.
"See you tomorrow, okay?" you say, giving him a quick kiss and squeezing his arm.
Isaac shrugs in response and turns to head to the other side of the parking lot where Scott's bike is parked.
You meet Braeden in the parking lot of the Target in the downtown area, and sit in the back of the lot until you catch sight of her weaving in between parked cars to get to you.
"Sorry, about this," she says, getting into your passenger seat and putting on the seat belt. "Derek really doesn't want you knowing where he lives."
"The feeling is mutual," you don't say.
"I have the list," you say, handing over the list of the makes and models of all your guns, most of which you've never used. You turn on your GPS and are halfway through typing in the address before you think better of it.
"Hey, can we use your phone for directions?" you ask, reaching inside your bag to turn yours off. A couple weeks ago Isaac had brought up the fact that your parents could probably track you using your phone. You doubt they'd do it today-you told them you were going to the movies with Lydia after school and you plan on being home by dinner-but it would be very hard to explain if they found out you went to a gun range.
"Sure," Braeden says, handing you her phone without looking up from your list. "Shit, your aunt had good taste."
You flinch, turning to look at her in dismay, but she doesn't notice.
"I think we'd better start with the basics, though," she continues, oblivious to your stare. "Some of these are definitely not suitable for beginners. You said you've used the sniper rifle before?"
"Yeah," you say quietly. "Once."
She doesn't know about Kate, you realize. Derek never told her. It makes sense, you guess. You wouldn't want to tell anyone that either.
She looks up at you briefly at that, but thankfully doesn't ask.
The ride is less awkward with music from the radio, but even that can't disguise how little you have to talk about. You breathe an inward sigh of relief when you pull into the gravel parking lot full of SUVs at the gun range.
It looks pretty similar to the outdoor gun ranges in Laramie and Seattle your parents used to take you to, though more rural, the sharp sounds of gunfire clearly audible from inside the range. A clean cut range officer with a combover signs you in and asks for your ID, but he doesn't seem to care that you're underage, and waves you inside after checking over Braeden's guns and ammunition.
"I can pay you back," you tell her as you walk down the hallway to your lane. You didn't realize it was going to be so expensive.
"It's fine," she says dismissively. "I get paid well."
You reach lane number 15 and Braeden puts her case of guns on the side table and snaps it open.
"Okay, we're going to start out with the SR9c," she says, pulling out a small gun similar to the one you used when your dad first taught you how to shoot as a kid. "It's a good beginner's gun, but it's not too different from your aunt's .45 ACP that you've been using. Do you know how to load it?"
"Yes," you say, taking the gun from her, pointing the muzzle at the ground and removing the clip. You check if there's a bullet in the chamber out of habit (there isn't, of course, but your father'd drilled that particular lesson into you by the time you were seven) and then load the small bullets into the clip and slide it into place. You look up to see both Braeden and a range officer watching you carefully.
"Go on," she says, gesturing at the target.
You shake your head a bit against the weird feeling of the safety glasses and earmuffs and raise the gun, pointing it at the black outline of a person twenty yards away. The range is hot, so you just make sure your feet are in the right position and fire.
The bullet just barely hits the side of the outline and you wince, lowering the gun.
"Okay, not bad," Braeden says, and comes to your side to adjust your grip. "Your stance is good, but move your hands a little...yeah, like that. Okay, again."
You hit the outline square in the shoulder this time and exhale deeply in relief.
"Good, now try-"
"You ladies need a little help here?" a man's voice comes from behind you and you turn around to see a burly man in camo leering at you. "I bet I could fix your stance for you."
You stare at him incredulously, completely thrown, because why-
"Are you making a sexual advance on a minor?" Braeden asks harshly, taking a badge out of her pocket.
The man's light blue eyes widen, both at the badge and Braeden's scars. "I, no, shit, sorry," he says and flees.
After a few seconds there's a burst of uproarious laughter from a few lanes down. You look around the range and realize that you're the only women here.
"Is that real?" you ask, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest.
"Sort of," she replies, putting the badge away. "Again."
You raise your gun and imagine the black outline is the burly man.
You hit it right in the center of the chest.
"Good," Braeden says, and you can hear the grin in her voice.
"What do you mean it's sort of real?" you ask her on the drive back to Beacon Hills.
"It's...expired, I guess you could say," she says, talking it out of her pocket. "I used to be a US Marshal."
"Oh," you say, and suddenly understand her background a lot more clearly. US Marshal discovers the supernatural and becomes a rogue bounty hunter. It's like a movie.
Teaching the hapless teenager to shoot doesn't really fit into it, though.
"So you go around...killing things for money?" you ask her skeptically.
"Hey, girl's got to eat," she says carelessly. At your appalled look she laughs. "Don't look so scandalized. The people who end up with hits on them are generally not good people. Mostly of the murderous, cannibalistic variety."
"Okay," you say. You probably shouldn't take her word for it, but it does make you feel better.
A long silence falls over you. You'd practiced for about an hour, and you kind of have a headache from concentrating so hard, but it was worth it to hit that target right between the eyes. Shooting in real life is different, but it's a relief to know you can at least hit a still target.
You're just about to turn on the radio, when Braeden speaks again.
"Can I ask you a personal question?" she says, and when you glance away from the road to look at her she has a dubious expression on her face.
"Uh, okay," you say, turning back to the highway as it curves slightly. What could she possibly want to know? Something about your parents?
"Are you really hooking up with Scott and that other beta?" she asks bluntly.
Oh, God.
"Yes," you reply tightly, not taking your eyes off the road and gripping the steering wheel harder.
She laughs. "And I thought I was wild in high school."
You glance at her hesitantly, not sure what to make of that reaction.
"I thought Derek was just being dramatic," she says, adjusting the seat and leaning back. "You're really turning the teenage rebellion thing up to eleven, aren't you?"
You laugh despite yourself. Teenage rebellion doesn't really cover it. Your family has murdered werewolves for hundreds of years and karma's a bitch. They deserve the daughter who gets off being fucked by two of them.
"Wait, how does Derek know?" you ask. Scott wouldn't have told him, would he?
"Werewolf noses seem more trouble than they're worth," she tells you, amused.
Ergh. You probably should have known, considering that's how Scott and Isaac knew about Derek and Braeden.
"So...you and Derek...?" you say, trying to keep the disgust out of your voice.
"Yeah," she says with a shrug. "He's kind of disaster, but, you know, so am I."
You keep your mouth firmly shut on this topic.
"Well, this was fun," she says when you drop her off at the same parking lot, which is now mostly empty and only lit by street lights. "I'll give you my number, let's do it again sometime."
"Really?" you ask her, confused why she's being so accommodating.
"Sure," she says, reaching out for your phone. "If you're going to be involved in this world, you have to know how to protect yourself."
It's true, but that still doesn't explain why she cares, you think as you hand her your phone. You watch as she turns it on, the light from the screen illuminating her face. She glances up at you and sees you looking, and her expression goes very serious.
"You're the only heir to the Argent name this side of the Atlantic," she tells you quietly. "You know what that means, right? When they find out about you-and they will find out-you will not be safe."
For a second you think she's talking about your parents, but, no, that doesn't make sense. Your parents are crazy, but you don't think they'd do anything to hurt you if they found out (if you were a werewolf, though, that is a completely different story.) She's talking about other hunters.
"Yeah," you say, feeling your gut clench in fear. You look away from her at the dark parking lot in front of you. You'd always tried not to dwell on what would happen when your parents found out. You know it's inevitable, but if you could just push it back until you're eighteen and in college... "Thanks."
"You did good," she tells you, firmly. "You just need more practice."
You nod and she opens the passenger seat door and climbs out, shutting it before grabbing her gun case out of the trunk.
"Braeden, thanks for...thanks for everything," you roll down your window to say as she comes around your car.
"No problem," she says easily, giving you a confident smile. "Us human girls got to stick together, right?"
She walks off into the night and you turn back to your windshield, feeling suddenly exhausted.
Not for the first time, you think about your life, your choices, your family, and think this is not going to end well.
You unlock your phone and hold it up to your ear, slumping back against your seat.
"Hey, Scott," you say faintly, so relieved when he picks up on the second ring. "Yeah, it was good. What are you guys doing? No, I haven't even started it yet, is it hard? No, I can't, I told my parents I'd be home for dinner. I'm okay, I'm just a little tired. Really, tell Isaac I'm fine. No, it was good, I really needed the practice..."
A/N: Malia and Braeden! Also, as I know absolutely nothing about guns or shooting ranges, feel free to correct me if you notice any glaring inaccuracies. Please review!