Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The summer holidays had come to an end, and with that, the daily madness at Beacon Hills High began anew. It also meant being subjected once again to the couples strolling hand in hand through the corridors, exchanging tender moments and not even trying to hide their love. Who could blame them? Finding one’s soulmate must be a heavenly feeling. Stiles and Derek couldn’t keep their hands off each other, even though they argued more often than Scott would have liked. Those moments were always embarrassing for him, especially since Stiles usually had the upper hand, making Derek unbearable to be around. Just like today, as he drove to school with the two of them in the black Camaro.

“I’ve told you a thousand times that you need to keep things tidy, Stiles. You’re not a child anymore,” Derek huffed, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly.

“I am keeping things tidy. It’s an orderly chaos,” Stiles retorted, rummaging through his backpack. “Just because you can’t mentally grasp it, Derek, doesn’t mean it’s the same as being messy.”

“Do you think I have nothing better to do than to constantly clean up after you? Your wardrobe looks like a battlefield, and sometimes I suspect the pizza boxes are coming to life.”

Scott sighed inwardly and stared absentmindedly at his upper arm, where two letters had found their place: an L and an A. Those were the initials of his soulmate. Stiles had Derek’s initials on his left chest, Allison had Isaac’s on her wrist, and Lydia had Aiden’s on her hip. Each of them was already connected to their soulmate, happy, even those two bickering guys in front of him. Although they regularly clashed, mainly due to Stiles' provoking sarcasm, they loved each other dearly. And even though Stiles made every effort not to let his best friend down, Scott didn’t want to stand between him and Derek.

“Earth to Scott?” Stiles' voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Huh? What?” Scott asked, perplexed, shaking his head.

“You’re staring at your upper arm again as if the meaning of life is written there,” his best friend chuckled. “Don’t worry, you’ll find your soulmate soon enough.”

“Yeah, like the last two years before this one, right?” Scott mumbled, honestly relieved when they finally arrived at the high school.

“Of course, you’re an Alpha, Scott. The Alpha of Alphas, the top predator—remember our conversation?”

“That conversation where you referred to him as the hot girl?” Derek’s voice dripped with biting sarcasm.

“Do you even realise you’re a massive jerk?” Stiles shot back.

“I’m a realist, that’s all.”

Scott pulled down the sleeve of his shirt and waited patiently for Stiles and Derek to finish their discussion, trying hard not to let on how annoying he found the conversation. He said his goodbyes and slung his backpack over his shoulder. Just ten seconds later, his best friend was already by his side, giving him an apologetic pat on the shoulder.

“Sorry, bro, but you know how Derek is, right? He cares about you and just wants what’s best for you.”

“It’s fine, really,” Scott lied. “Derek is just being Derek.”

The two friends chatted for a while longer, waiting for Allison and Isaac, when a black sports car caught their attention. It was the wet dream of every teenager their age: a rear spoiler, wide tires, a rear diffuser, a carbon fiber hood, extra air vents for cooling, and a sound that was nothing short of mesmerizing.

“Is that Jackson’s new car? If so, he’s got a problem because that thing can’t possibly be street legal. Just look at that exhaust system…” Stiles nodded toward the pipes that jutted out just behind the door gaps.

Scott strained to see through the tinted windows, but even with his werewolf abilities, it was impossible.

“And? Is it him?”

“Have no idea, I can’t make it out,” Scott admitted, trying once more, unsuccessfully, to identify the driver.

“What do you mean you can’t make it out? Not even with your super-alpha vision?”

“Nope.”

The sports car, a Mercedes, actually turned into the parking space that was usually reserved for Jackson's Porsche. The mystery seemed to be solved, but just at that moment, Jackson's silver beauty pulled up as well.

“Who the hell is that? The car isn't even registered to a residence here; look, that’s a British license plate,” Stiles asked his best friend.

“I have no idea, but he’s playing with fire if he’s messing with Jackson,” Scott replied, watching as Jackson parked next to the unknown driver and got out, looking extremely annoyed. By now, they weren’t alone anymore; it felt like half the school had gathered around, all staring at the spectacle.

The driver’s door of the Mercedes swung open, and a boy about their age stepped out: dark blonde, almost brown hair, and grey-green eyes that came into view just as he took off his sunglasses and tucked them into the collar of his black and yellow varsity jacket, wearing a disinterested expression while Jackson berated him.

“That’s my parking spot. Get lost!” Jackson’s voice echoed across the schoolyard.

The newcomer completely ignored Jackson, walking around the car to open the trunk and pull out a folded wheelchair, making his way to the passenger side. In the meantime, Jackson had launched into a tirade of insults.

“Hey, jerk, I’m talking to you. Again, slowly, so you can understand: that’s my parking spot.”

Unfazed, the new guy began unfolding the wheelchair, opening the passenger door, and helping someone into it. Scott needed a moment to realize who was being helped.

“Is that really who I think it is?” Stiles asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Scott confirmed, feeling the blood drain from his face at the sight.

Jackson fell silent as soon as he recognized who was in the wheelchair. His face shifted from an angry bright red to ashen pale. Trembling, he took two or three steps back while the newcomer closed the car doors and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

Yes." The old man shifted slightly in his seat before turning around, his gaze landing on Jackson. "Do you have something to say, my boy?" he asked in an innocent tone. "I think you’ll forgive an old man, who still happens to be your principal, for not wanting to burden his grandson any more than necessary. I’ll refrain from assigning you detention for the rest of the year. What do you think, Luke?" Gerard tilted his head back, staring up at the boy.

“He was disrespectful, Grandpa. Do what you think is right,” Luke replied, his tone steady.

Scott could hardly believe his ears, nor could Stiles. Grandpa? Grandson? That meant the person in front of them had to be an Argent. More importantly, he must be Allison's brother. Scott could hardly wrap his head around it; she surely would have mentioned it at some point.

“Let’s leave it at that. I’d like to get to my office,” Gerard instructed the boy, who immediately began to push the wheelchair forward. As they passed Scott and Stiles, the old man raised his hand, a glint of malice flashing in his eyes.

“Scott, Stiles, how lovely to see you,” he said cheerfully, gesturing for his grandson to stop. “You haven’t met my grandson yet, have you?”

Something stirred within Scott. He glared at Gerard, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. This was impossible. They had poisoned him with mountain ash, preventing his transformation. The last time he had seen the head of the Argent family, he had been spitting black blood and could barely stand upright.

“Not that we have, how could we? Our previous encounters haven’t exactly revolved around such formalities, have they? I mean, the last time, for instance, you…” Scott elbowed Stiles in the chest, prompting an indignant “Ow!” but silencing him nonetheless.

“Well, it’s about time,” Gerard said. “This is my grandson, Luke. Luke, these are Scott and Stiles, something like family friends, especially Scott.” The emphasis on his name made the werewolf bristle with unease.

“Nice to meet you,” Luke replied curtly. “Grandpa, aren’t you cold? Should I get you a blanket?”

“My dear boy, it’s almost twenty degrees. I may be a cripple, but I’m certainly not close enough to the grave to be freezing at these temperatures,” Gerard laughed. “But we really must be going. See you around!”

Scott and Stiles watched the two of them walk away, still processing what had just happened.

“Did you just see what I saw?” Stiles asked incredulously.

“I did, Stiles,” Scott confirmed.

“And did you see how he treated him?” Stiles pressed.

“I did, Stiles.”

“And what are we going to do about it?” his best friend wanted to know. “I mean, this spells trouble—huge, gigantic, if not even phenomenal trouble.”

“We don’t know that yet, Stiles,” Scott replied, though the doubt in his voice was hard to miss.

“Just once, could you trust me on this, Scott?”

“Allison would have warned us if he meant trouble, right?”

“The fact that you ended your question with an ‘or’ shows you’re starting to see my point, Scott. But go ahead,” Stiles threw his hands up theatrically, “ask Allison first. I’m right about this, and you know it.”

“I hope not,” Scott murmured, making his way toward the entrance of the high school. This was bound to be a lively day.

Chapter Text

The first period consisted of gym class, separated for boys and girls. While this prevented Scott and Stiles from discussing Allison’s supposed brother, they at least had Isaac to fill in on the latest news as they changed.

“And you’re sure he said ‘Grandpa’?” Isaac asked skeptically.

“Of course!” Stiles replied, slightly annoyed. “Do you think we have problems with our hearing?”

“I can hardly believe it. Allison would have mentioned a brother or half-brother. If not to you, then at least to me. Her dad never hinted at anything like that either.”

“That’s not even our biggest problem,” Stiles said.

“And what would that be?” Scott asked, raising an eyebrow. “That we still have Gerard to deal with?”

“No, bro. Think about it. What’s Allison’s last name?”

“Um… Argent?” Scott replied, confused.

“Correct,” Stiles nodded, tapping Scott's right upper arm, which only added more question marks to Scott's face. His best friend sighed softly and continued, “What are the initials of your soulmate, Scott?”

“L and A? Why are you asking? You know that do—” Just then, it clicked. If Luke was Gerard’s grandson and supposedly Allison’s brother, it was also likely that he shared their last name: Argent. Luke Argent – L and A.

“You mean…” Scott began, excitement palpable in his voice.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” confirmed Stiles.

Suddenly, Scott felt different. He experienced a tingling in his stomach, feeling hot and cold at the same time, a pulling sensation in his left chest, and he practically gripped Stiles’ arm with both hands, causing his best friend to sharply inhale and make a pained face.

“Dude, let go, you’re hurting me,” Stiles hissed. “I don’t like the idea of you being bound to someone like that, but I’m not going to break your hand over it either.”

“That’s not it,” Scott said excitedly, releasing Stiles while casting him an apologetic glance. “Sorry, bro, but do you know what this means?”

“Your soulmate is the grandson of a psychopathic lunatic who has tried to kill one of us multiple times, and who seems to quite like or even love him, judging by how he treated him?” Stiles shook out his hand. “If you see that as a gain, Scott, then we need to consider whether you might have lost some brain cells since your ascension to Alpha.”

Isaac just shook his head and nodded towards Luke, who stood off to the side, arms crossed over his chest, leaning against one of the lockers. He was dressed in a black sweatshirt, short athletic shorts, and matching sneakers, all of which were outrageously expensive brand-name clothes.

“So that’s supposed to be Scott’s soulmate?”

“Can you rule it out?” Stiles shrugged. “It would make sense, wouldn’t it?”

“That Scott is connected to a psychopathic weirdo?” Isaac shook his head again. “I don’t think that’s the case. Unless you’re misjudging him.”

“Well, you don’t have much room to talk. He’s basically your brother-in-law now, and if I may remind you, Allison is just as much the granddaughter of that madman as Luke seems to be. So you’re just as connected to someone who…”

“Guys, enough,” Scott interjected firmly, cutting off Stiles and bringing the conversation to a halt. “We don’t even know if he’s Allison’s brother, half-brother, or whatever. Just like we have no clue if he knows anything about Gerard, how he behaves, or even if he’s really my soulmate.” The last words stung Scott a little. He was lying to himself: he desperately hoped that it was true, just so this agonizing waiting could come to an end. Stiles had found Derek soon enough, just like Allison had found Isaac. He didn’t want to be the fifth wheel anymore, even if everyone was trying hard to make him feel otherwise.

Stiles was about to respond when the discussion was interrupted by Coach Finstock, who, as every year, had trouble matching names to faces. Thus came the dreaded list, which he began to read aloud, calling out the students one by one, only using their last names.

“McCall, Lahey, Stilinski, Whittemore…” The coach went down the list until he reached “Taylor” and looked up. “Who the hell is Taylor?”

“That’s me,” Luke said, raising his hand.

In that moment, Scott’s world came crashing down. He clung to Stiles as a wave of disappointment washed over him. Taylor started with a T, not an A. He was doomed to endure the longing and painful waiting once more. Stiles patted him sympathetically on the shoulder, as did Isaac.

“It’s okay, bro, we’ll find him eventually, and until then, we’re here for you, alright?” Stiles whispered.

“Of course we are. We’re a team,” Isaac agreed.

“Thanks, guys,” Scott murmured, suppressing a sigh.

“Are you new?” Finstock asked, jotting something down on his clipboard.

“I am,” Luke confirmed, pushing himself off the locker. “Luke Taylor.”

"Ah yes. Good, then we're done. We're playing football today," announced Coach Finstock after finishing his scribbles, prompting a loud groan from the class. "Order from above. Two teams, Jackson and… McCall, you pick. Get ready, we'll meet in the gym."

"Aren't we playing outside, Coach?" Greenburg asked.

"We're not. What kind of stupid question is that, Greenburg?" With that, the coach left them to their own devices.

As soon as they all entered the gym, the team selection began. Jackson had Boyd, Danny, and Ethan on his team, while Scott chose Stiles, Isaac, and Aiden.

"Pick Greenburg," Stiles advised Scott, who was standing next to him.

"Why should I?"

"Because we know Greenburg. A known quantity is always better than an unknown."

"McCall, are we getting anywhere today?" Jackson interjected. "Just take the loser." He nodded towards Luke. "At least you have something in common: you're all useless." Jackson immediately regretted those words when a low growl sounded behind him.

Luke had shoved his hands into his pockets, arms bent outward. He shot Jackson a frown but held back any comments. His gaze then turned expectantly to Scott.

"I choose Luke," Scott finally decided.

"Dude, are you crazy?" his best friend hissed in his ear.

Scott's gut feeling told him to pick Luke, even if he wasn't his soulmate. It was purely an instinctual decision, and his instincts had never let him down before.

"If we're not nice to him, he has no reason to be nice to us. Plus, he hasn't acted negatively towards us so far. So just give it a shot, Stiles."

"If you say so, but I think this is a mistake."

"I know. Just trust me," Scott replied. "I know what I'm doing."

"You once said you never really know what you're doing, Scott." Stiles patted his best friend on the shoulder, and with that, the teams were formed.

„Alright, then consult briefly, take your positions, and let’s get it over with,” shouted the coach, indicating his lack of interest in today’s training session.

The two teams symbolically put their heads together at opposite ends of the hall. Scott had rarely played soccer, so he left the planning to Stiles. Not that he was a pro, but Stiles' general knowledge was outstanding, making him well-suited to devise some sort of strategy.

“I suggest Scott and Aiden go up front while the rest stay back, and Isaac plays goalkeeper. We don’t have enough people to simulate a real game anyway, so…” Stiles began to outline his thoughts. What he was saying made a lot of sense, and Scott simply nodded along with the rest.

“Alright, any objections?” asked Stilinski Junior.

“Yes.”

All heads snapped around to Luke, who still had his hands in his pockets. Stiles’ expression darkened.

“Oh really? And what would that be?”

“I want to play with Scott.” That was neither a question nor a request.

“I doubt you want that. Scott will probably be faster than you, just like Aiden. The two of them work perfectly together.”

A blatant lie. While Aiden and Scott got along, especially because of Lydia, calling it harmony was a stretch. Scott tilted his head slightly as he watched his friend and the newcomer argue.

“Maybe, but I don’t think either of them, or anyone else here, has ever actively engaged with this sport,” Luke calmly replied to Stiles’ objection that he couldn’t keep up with Scott and Aiden. “I was the team captain at my old school in Cambridge, as well as a forward. Just trust me when I say it’s better to use me offensively, not defensively.”

The bickering continued for another minute or two until all eyes turned to Scott, awaiting his final decision.

“So?” both Luke and Stiles asked in unison.

“I…” Scott glanced back and forth between the two. How was he supposed to decide? Stiles was his best friend and was usually right, while Luke was completely new but apparently had experience. Normally, he would side with Stiles, as rationally speaking, his words were correct. His head was telling him one thing, while his gut was telling him another.

„Luke goes forward instead of Aiden,“ Scott finally decided.

“A wise choice, you’ll see,” Luke nodded at him.

“A disaster, you’ll see,” Stiles countered.

“Alright, positions! The goalkeepers grab a pair of gloves each!” shouted the coach.

After the first few minutes, it became clear that the decision to place Luke in the offense was the right one. The Brit and Scott actually harmonized perfectly together, even though the latter hardly knew anything about the game. Luke mostly kept the ball to himself and outmaneuvered the opposing team. Even the werewolves on the other side—Jackson, Ethan, and Boyd—had trouble taking the ball from him. If he found himself in a tight spot, he would pass to Scott, who would quickly return it. It took no more than fifteen minutes for them to score the first goal.

“You have a good feel for the ball,” Luke remarked as he high-fived Scott.

“Really?” Scott was genuinely pleased by the compliment and beamed back at his teammate.

“Yes. I haven’t played with anyone who has clicked with me like this in a long time. If you can work even better with this Aiden, then…”

“I don’t,” Scott interrupted him. “Not at all.” His cheeks were almost flushed as he could see a shy smile on Luke’s lips. A braces flashed, giving him an almost cute appearance.

They took their positions again, and when the coach's whistle blew, Luke grabbed the ball, maneuvered around Jackson, and passed to Scott before Ethan could reach him. The werewolf, in turn, dodged Boyd and played it back to Luke as Danny came dangerously close. It was as if they hadn’t done anything else for years, as if they could anticipate what the other would do before it even happened.

“This is impossible! That guy must be cheating!” Jackson exploded when Luke scored the second goal. “The jerk can’t be faster than us.”

“I’m not,” Luke corrected him, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt as he stood next to Scott. “You’re just too selfish in your playing style, and you lack the necessary technique.” The Brit nodded at Scott. “The two of us, on the other hand, play in a way that complements each other. You’re just a lousy captain, that’s all.”

Jackson’s expression hardened, and his eyes glowed as he clenched his fists. A low growl escaped his throat as he fixed his gaze on Luke, who merely raised an eyebrow.

„Jackson, don’t,” Scott warned, preparing to prevent him from doing something foolish.

“You’re making a big enemy right now. One day, your new friend won’t be around to protect you,” Jackson threatened, straightening his posture slightly.

“Bad loser, huh?” Luke scoffed. “I’d like to correct you on one thing: I don’t need anyone to watch over me. That’s not the case. If you want trouble, go ahead.”

“I…” Jackson huffed, taking a step toward the two, when Danny intervened and grabbed his friend by the shoulder.

“Rivalry, very good!” the coach chimed in enthusiastically. “That’s exactly what we need. Jackson, that motivates you to perform at your best. Taylor and McCall will regularly pair up from now on, so you can push yourself even further. Let your anger out.”

Scott bit his lip as he watched Ethan join Danny to calm him down. This was bound to end in disaster, that was for sure. Especially since it was noticeable that Luke hadn’t backed down when Jackson’s eyes had flared up.

“Coach, the hour is almost over,” Stiles interjected, pointing to the large plastic clock above the entrance.

“Good point, Stilinski. Alright, that’s it for today. So this game actually had a purpose. Very nice.” Coach Finstock walked over to Jackson and patted him on the shoulder. “I want to see that kind of fire in the next lacrosse game as well. With that, we’ll easily win the championships this year.”

If looks could kill, Luke would probably have dropped dead right there based on how Jackson was glaring at him. He only released his newly declared enemy after the coach turned him around and tried to convince him to keep his fire. Motivational speeches had never been Finstock’s strong suit.

“What an idiot,” Luke muttered, turning away. “Is he always like that?” he asked Scott, who caught up with him.

“Well, Jackson is… Jackson.”

“A spoiled brat?”

“Pretty much.”

“Disgusting guy, but whatever.” Luke extended his hand to Scott. “I don’t think we’ve properly introduced ourselves: I’m Luke.”

“And I’m Scott,” the werewolf smiled and shook his hand.

“Nice to meet you. We really made a great team, don’t you think?”

“We did,” Scott confirmed. “Nice to meet you too.”

“Mh,” Luke replied. “Let’s quickly clear away the goals and change, or we’ll be late.” He pointed to the clock above the entrance. “I don’t know how you handle it here, but back home, the teachers were always furious if we were even a minute late.”

“That gets punished with detention here,” Scott affirmed.

“So just like in the UK,” the Brit laughed. “Come on, let’s hurry up. I don’t want to have to explain on my first day that I’m the principal’s grandson.”

After they had finished their work, they both headed to the locker room.

Chapter Text

Scott and Luke were the last ones left in the locker room, which gave them some peace and quiet. The young Alpha had dozens of questions burning in his mind, including who exactly Luke was, the reason for his presence, or simply how he could afford such an expensive sports car at his age. Even Jackson’s Porsche seemed like a tiny Matchbox car next to it. All of these thoughts faded away the moment Luke pulled up his shirt and stood before Scott with his upper body bare.

The young Brit was incredibly fit, even more so than Derek or Danny. He seemed to have hardly an ounce of fat on him. Not that Scott wanted to stare, but he found himself doing just that. He could rightfully claim to have a decent physique, but next to Luke, he felt a twinge of envy. However, it wasn’t just this fact that made Scott observe his new classmate's torso; no, he was desperately searching for something specific.

“If you keep staring, your eyes are going to fall out,” Luke chuckled, wiping his sweaty shirt across his body.

“I wasn’t…,” Scott stammered, caught off guard, and wondered what was wrong with him. Not that he lacked a sense of aesthetics; as a teenager, his thoughts were often a bit over the top anyway, and Luke looked good, without a doubt. But that wasn’t it. No, he was desperately searching for something and felt ashamed of it.

“What? Staring? Gawking?” A grin crept onto Luke's lips.

“No, that’s not it. I, um, I…” Scott struggled to put his thoughts into words. He was searching for the mark of Luke’s soulmate. The initials. Why, he didn’t quite know. They were clearly not meant for each other, as Luke's last name didn’t start with an A, yet a glimmer of hope sparked within Scott. The hope that he might have found his soulmate after all and that the universe was just playing a trick on him.

“You?” Luke tilted his head slightly and approached Scott. “What’s wrong? I mean, you’ve surely found your soulmate by now, right? A little staring is definitely allowed. What’s that ridiculous saying? ‘Appetite away, but the food is at home’ or something like that.” His words sounded almost a bit regretful, Scott noticed.

“No, I haven’t,” the werewolf admitted quietly, lowering his gaze slightly. “I’ve been waiting for quite a while.”

“That’s a shame, but I’m sure, Scott, you’ll find your soulmate soon.”

Scott hesitated for a moment before looking up and being met with a wide smile, complete with braces. Luke reached out and patted Scott on the shoulder. It was only then that the werewolf noticed the large scar on the Brit’s left side. It barely stood out against his pale skin, but it became visible upon closer inspection. Luke seemed to notice Scott's gaze, as he withdrew his hand and took a few steps back. The smile faded slightly, almost sad, as he traced the scar with his index finger.

“This thing is probably going to disfigure me forever,” Luke sighed quietly.

“Where did you get it, if I may ask?” Scott inquired cautiously. One didn’t need to be a werewolf to sense the emotions in the air. The scent of bitterness and sorrow, as well as anger, lingered.

“If I told you some heroic tale about how I saved a girl from a horde of potential rapists and they stabbed me with a knife in the side, you probably wouldn’t believe me, would you?” Luke seemed to struggle with himself for a moment before taking a deep breath. “No offense to you, Scott, I really like you and all, but that’s very personal. Would it be enough if I told you that this scar took away a lot from me?” His voice grew quieter and more regretful with each word.

“Of course, I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry,” Scott murmured, feeling guilty.

“You’re not to blame. You can still find your soulmate. Look forward to it. It’s supposed to be an indescribable feeling when two souls connect, almost merge. Like Achilles and Patroclus, Lancelot and Guinevere, Romeo and Juliet…” Luke placed his hand on the scar and squinted his eyes. He seemed somehow hurt, a pain that was almost palpable. Not physical, but emotional.

Scott took a moment to grasp what Luke had just said. He could still find his soulmate. That meant his counterpart was no longer able to do so. It took another moment for the realization to hit him.

“You mean…” Scott began cautiously, nodding toward the scar.

“Exactly,” Luke confirmed. “That’s where my soulmate mark is supposed to be, my counterpart, the part of my life that I hoped to find.” The Brit paused for a moment before his fingers clutched the scar tightly, almost as if he were trying to hold on to something that wasn’t there anymore, and he laughed bitterly. “How can one miss something they’ve never possessed?”

Scott had rarely witnessed such a form of pain: once with Derek, who lost nearly his entire family in the fire, and with Allison and Stiles, regarding their mothers. Each of them dealt with the pain differently, but in the end, they could never completely hide it. It seemed to be the same for Luke. What could Scott say? How could he cheer him up? Was that even possible?

“I’m sorry,” the werewolf whispered softly.

“You don’t have to be.” Luke straightened his posture slightly and forced a smile. “You’re not to blame, Scott.”

„And there’s no way for you to find your soulmate anymore?“

“I don’t know, to be honest. Grandpa said it’s still possible, but I would need to find the right person, and they would have to fall in love with me. Then the mark would probably reappear,” Luke’s conversation partner shrugged slightly. “But Grandpa also said I didn’t need anyone because I’m strong enough to handle a trial of fate or something like that.”

At those words, something tightened in Scott. That sounded a lot like Gerard, especially when he wanted to take someone under his wing. The old man was a master of deception and manipulation. Still, or perhaps because of that, Luke seemed to love his grandfather. Had he perhaps not truly gotten to know him?

“You really care about your grandpa, huh?” the werewolf ventured cautiously as he slipped out of his sweaty clothes.

“Grandpa is the closest thing I have to family,” Luke revealed, and his features softened a bit. “He took care of me when I needed him, and now I’ll do the same for him.”

Scott struggled to maintain his composure. He knew Gerard’s efforts for others and how far the old man would go to achieve his goals—multiple times. Jackson could certainly tell a story about that, just like Allison. He would have killed his granddaughter’s soulmate without hesitation and used Scott’s mother as leverage. The idea that someone like him could actually care for others seemed almost impossible.

“I think we should hurry up; otherwise, we’ll really get detention. And even though I can probably talk my way out of it since Grandpa is the principal, I’m not sure if that would work for you.” Luke grabbed his things for the shower and disappeared from Scott’s view. Aside from the constant patter of water and Luke's breathing, it was quiet.

Stiles had been right about one thing: Luke loved Gerard. That was evident in his tone. His familiar and affectionate manner toward that monster was not an act, and that was precisely what worried Scott. Allison had only had a brief—if at all—close relationship with him and had ended up on a very dark path. The thought that someone had been exposed to such a harmful influence for a longer time and the resulting consequences sent a chill down Scott’s spine, especially since Luke hadn’t seemed surprised at all by Jackson’s reaction in the gym.

„Scott?“ The voice of the Brit pulled him out of his thoughts. Luke stood before him, with wet hair and a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Uh, yeah?”

“You really should hurry. We only have five minutes left.”

“Oh, right!” With that, Scott grabbed his things and disappeared under the shower as well. As the warm water loosened his burning muscles a bit, he reflected on the last hour.

The fact was that he and Luke got along well, even though they barely knew each other. So far, there hadn’t been any uncomfortable situations, aside from Jackson’s outburst, which he could have had with anyone else. Scott’s gaze briefly fell on his right upper arm, and he sighed. Despite his situation, he still had it better than Luke. He could find his soulmate, even if it would probably take an eternity. That was already a significantly better fate. Although, technically speaking, Luke still had chances. He just needed to find the right person. How he was supposed to do that among billions of people was a different story, but hope wasn’t entirely lost yet.

“Scott, we really have to go,” the werewolf heard from the locker room.

“I’m hurrying!” he called back, grabbing a towel and quickly heading back to where Luke, already dressed, was waiting. For a fleeting moment, he caught a glimpse of something in the other’s expression that he couldn’t quite decipher. However, that look vanished so quickly that he wasn’t sure if he had imagined it. Luke turned away, and Scott quickly slipped into his clothes, stuffed his used sports gear into his bag, and caught up with Luke, who was already on the move.

“Can you do me a favor?”

“Hmm? What is it?”

“Can you please keep what I told you to yourself?” Luke asked as he pushed the door open. “You’re actually the first person I haven’t spun a tale for.”

“Sure.” Scott smiled faintly. “I promise, high and holy.”

“Somehow, I feel like I can really trust you,” Luke said, revealing his braces once again.

Scott wanted to say something in response when they suddenly found themselves amidst a crowd of hurried students rushing to get to their classrooms on time. The two of them followed suit. Detention was not something anyone was particularly eager for, especially not Scott, who wanted to avoid trouble as much as possible this year.

Chapter Text

The rest of the school day went by relatively uneventfully. Allison had checked in with them; she and Lydia were taking a short vacation and extending it by two days. There was no cause for concern, except for the fact that they apparently had extremely poor reception. Isaac wore a face like three days of rain, just like Aiden—both werewolves were no longer used to being apart from their girlfriends for such a long time.

Meanwhile, Luke had proven to be a good student, but he avoided contact with others. During lunch, he had seemingly vanished into thin air, and Stiles speculated that he was reporting back to his grandpa.

“I bet he’s discussing his first contact with the old psychopath and they’re plotting how to take us out one by one,” Stilinski Junior guessed, nibbling on his chicken legs, which tasted about as good as salted cardboard.

“I think you’re exaggerating. We had a nice conversation,” Scott countered, grimacing as he tried his fries, which tasted just as outstanding as the chicken legs.

“Yeah, maybe you did. Did you see how he provoked Jackson?” Stiles glanced toward the cafeteria kitchen. “Why is it even impossible to prepare decent food when they practically have the ingredients right in front of them? I’ve never experienced chicken with sides that tastes this bad.”

“Because it’s cafeteria food,” Luke chimed in, having seemingly appeared out of nowhere. “May I join you?” He had no tray in his hands, just his backpack.

“Uh…” Stiles shot Scott a questioning look.

“Sure,” Scott smiled friendly and moved the chair next to him a bit to make space. “Have a seat.”

“Thanks.” Luke settled down next to Scott, rummaging through his backpack as he piled two black plastic containers and a thermos in front of him. Both containers were uniquely decorated: Container number one featured a Son Goku with white hair, while container number two housed a Vegeta with blue hair. The thermos was adorned with a Spider-Man swinging through the streets of Manhattan. The latter especially caused Stiles to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

“No Captain America?” he asked.

“No, I’m not a huge fan of Captain America. I don’t think he’s a real superhero,” Luke replied, setting his backpack down beside him and pulling out a small, elongated wooden box. Inside was a silver spoon.

“Neither is Iron Man. He’s not an ordinary superhero,” Stiles countered, watching along with Scott as the young Brit unscrewed the lid of the thermos and poured a steaming, shiny black liquid—presumably tea—into a cup.

“That’s true, but he’s also not a product of a test tube. Tony stands out because of his intelligence, and even without the suit, he has plenty of qualities that make him exceptional. Cap doesn’t have that.” Luke opened the Son Goku container, revealing a glass bowl that had been placed in a designated opening in the middle of the box, and removed the lid. A red substance emerged, which he loosened a bit with the spoon. “What’s wrong? Have you never seen anyone eat before?” His gaze shifted back and forth between Scott and Stiles, with an expression that questioned their intellectual competence.

“We have, but what exactly do you have there?” Stiles pointed a finger at the red substance.

“Pomegranate puree,” Luke answered, then took a sip of his tea. “This is real Earl Grey, and the second container has some To’ak muffins. I figured the food here would be inedible, so I instructed Jonathan to pack me a lunch, at least until I get home again.”

“Jonathan?” Scott asked, slightly confused.

“My butler,” Luke explained casually as he dug into the pomegranate puree.

“You have a butler?” Stiles asked incredulously. “And those are really muffins made with To’ak chocolate? You’re not pulling our leg, are you?”

“What is To’ak chocolate?” Scott wanted to know.

“To’ak chocolate is the name of the manufacturer and exporter of a type of chocolate made from an ancient cacao variety from Ecuador. It’s extremely expensive and is said to have a unique flavor that varies depending on the harvest season,” Stiles explained, eyeing Luke suspiciously as he nodded.

“Jonathan told me something similar once, and so did the chef at home in Cambridge. Processing it is supposed to be extremely tedious, and both of them regularly groan when I want a dish made with it. But I couldn’t care less; they’re getting paid for it, after all.” Luke scraped the bowl clean, took another sip of tea, and then closed the container again. “Your food is going to get cold if you keep staring,” he pointed out to the two of them. “Not that it would be a significant loss.”

“Your chef?” Stiles shook his head and repeated his question. “Chef? Butler? How can Allison’s family afford this luxury? I mean, they don’t seem to be struggling if you take a look at their house and their father’s car, but they’ve never seemed this wealthy.”

“Uncle Chris can’t afford it either,” Luke stated matter-of-factly. “I don’t think the arms trade brings in that much.”

Scott stared at Stiles, and he returned the look. Luke had said “Uncle Chris.” That meant he couldn’t be Allison’s brother. A bad feeling crept over the young werewolf, and his best friend seemed to feel the same way.

“So, Allison is your cousin?” Stiles ventured cautiously.

“Yes,” Luke confirmed, not lifting his gaze from the four dark muffins that had been baked in small molds.

“That means…” Scott’s best friend began, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“What?” Luke looked up and squinted. “What is this, an interrogation?”

“A sharing of interesting information for everyone at the table?” Stiles proposed. “We’re just curious about you.”

“Ah, I see.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed. “My father is Daniel Taylor, the founder of Phoenix International.”

Stiles choked on his mineral water, which left Scott with a face full of question marks. He leaned forward and awkwardly patted Stiles on the back until the young Stilinski recovered from his coughing fit.

“Are we talking about the Daniel Taylor, inventor of the Phoenix H2?” Stiles croaked, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Yes, and also of the Phoenix T1,” Luke replied, sounding bored.

“Wait, what? Phoenix T1, Phoenix H2? I’m lost,” Scott admitted, slightly frustrated as he looked back and forth between the two. Meanwhile, Luke seemed to have developed an extraordinary interest in his muffins, which he examined thoughtfully.

“Those are designations for attack helicopters and tanks. Daniel Taylor is basically one of the leading experts in the field of military weapon development and manufacturing. He supplies, among others, the British and American military. Am I right?” Stiles asked, looking questioningly at Luke.

“Yeah, I think so? I don’t know. I’m not really interested in Dad’s business.”

“Not interested?” Stiles puffed out his cheeks, slightly offended. “Your dad made a groundbreaking invention by developing an attack helicopter that is immune to electromagnetic radiation.”

“And?” Luke shrugged disinterestedly.

“Now I understand why you can afford that car: you’re filthy rich.”

“Yeah, probably better off than you guys.” Luke glanced around the cafeteria doubtfully. “Definitely.”

“Can you get a tour at your dad’s place?” Stiles’ eyes lit up like a child waiting for gifts under the Christmas tree.

“You’re the first person to ask me if they can do something with my dad,” Luke chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “I have no idea if Dad would allow that. I can ask him sometime. Doesn’t he have a branch somewhere here in California?”

Scott tuned out the conversation between the two and began to think. Luke’s appearance didn’t match someone like him at all. The werewolf contemplated and observed the newcomer as he gestured, wore a bored expression, made a weighing gesture with his right hand, and chatted with Stiles; he reminded Scott of someone. The similarities became clearer.

“And what’s the son of Daniel Taylor doing here?” Stiles made an extravagant hand gesture. “In the rather small Beacon Hills?”

“As you might have noticed, my grandfather is terminally ill,” Luke remarked sarcastically. “Even the best doctors I could hire can’t figure out what’s wrong with him. We’re facing a mystery. Grandpa needs proper care.” The Brit turned his gaze back from Stiles and thoughtfully inspected his food again.

“And you provide that care?”

“No, where do you think I’m going with that? Do I look like someone who can handle such things? Grandpa is professionally cared for and lives with me. He drives to work with me and back home. The apartment is wheelchair accessible, and the ground floor is entirely his and the caregivers’. The upper area belongs to me.” Luke squinted and scrutinized Stiles as the latter exchanged a concerned glance with Scott. “Why do you even care about that?”

“Just curious,” Stiles shrugged, caught off guard, and quickly added, “And you’re throwing away all your opportunities for this? I mean, back home you could surely attend a prestigious private school?”

“I could, and I have. But Grandpa is the only family I have left. Dad is always away and has little time for me; he never did. So, I owe it to him to take care of him, especially since Uncle Chris and Allison don’t want to take on that responsibility.” Luke grimaced a bit before he started to pack up his things, casting a quick glance at the muffins. Two of them were placed in front of Scott. “Here, if you want, you can share with Stiles. I have to go; Grandpa is waiting for me. See you later!” With that, he shouldered his backpack, waved, and was off before Scott or Stiles could respond.

Scott scratched the back of his head and gave Stiles a questioning look. “He said Uncle Chris, right?” His best friend only nodded while reaching for one of the muffins. “That means he’s Allison’s cousin and not her brother,” Scott reassured himself that he had heard everything correctly.

“Exactly,” Stiles confirmed, taking a bite of the pastry. “Gerard doesn’t have many other kids. So there’s only one person left.”

“Kate,” Scott murmured with concern.

“Correct,” Stiles nodded, making a grimace. “If you put two and two together, Scott, you should come to the conclusion that your new friend can’t be as harmless as he seems.”

“I hope not. But I don’t get it: Why is he showing up now?” Scott straightened his shoulders a bit and turned the muffin around in his fingers. The smell was, admittedly, delicious, and judging by Stiles’ behavior, it must taste just as good. What did they really know about Luke in the end?

“I don’t think he’s like Kate and Gerard,” Scott concluded after a moment of thought. He had come across as very nice in the locker room, and they had harmonized well during gym class. Of course, the family ties couldn’t be denied, but Allison was also an Argent and one of his closest friends. His gut feeling rarely let him down, and he didn’t have a bad feeling about Luke.

“I think so. He practically has access to a repertoire of killing machines that would make any gun enthusiast green with envy. Dad once considered swapping the service weapons at the station for those from Phoenix. I’ve seen the brochures and the advertised efficiency improvements, as well as the enhanced target volume. But that’s just the standard stuff. I don’t want to know what prototypes this Taylor has lying around in his private quarters. And then there’s the fact that it was Derek’s uncle who killed his mother, a werewolf just like you, by the way, and the fact that his grandfather is in a wheelchair because of us, and you’ve got your reason for wanting to take out every werewolf in Beacon Hills.” Stiles wiped his fingers on his napkin and pushed the tray aside. “Scott, we have a huge problem, and I fear Derek will see it that way too.”

At Stiles’ last sentence, Scott’s stomach turned. Derek had always been a fan of radical solutions and tended to overreact whenever he felt cornered or threatened. Stiles’ influence had somewhat moderated him, but in the end, Derek Hale was still Derek Hale.

“I also dare to say that Grandpa Argent won’t be too thrilled that his second grandchild has an obvious interest in a werewolf,” Stiles remarked dryly, reaching for a second muffin.

“What? What do you mean by that?” Scott gave his best friend a slightly confused look.

“Someone could probably stare right down your shirt and you wouldn’t even notice, huh? He hasn’t taken his eyes off you the entire time. Why do you think he’s being so nice to you? It’s either a sinister plan, or he actually likes you.” Stiles held the muffin up as if to emphasize his words, shaking it back and forth. “He gave you both and didn’t give me any.”

“You’re seeing ghosts, Stiles,” Scott waved him off, though his heartbeat quickened slightly. What if Stiles was right? Maybe Luke actually did like him? But that seemed impossible after just half a day of knowing each other. On the other hand, he had liked Allison from the very first moment—at least until her mark had appeared. Then she and Isaac had become a couple and he was left alone again. Or was this all just a clever plan by Gerard to get back at them?

“Believe me or not, but Derek is going to flip out, and honestly, I agree with him that Luke poses a danger. Just like everything and everyone who has been associated with Gerard for too long.”

Stiles tossed the muffin at Scott, who reflexively caught it and frowned.

“By the way, he was right: it tastes heavenly. Come on, we’ve got two hours left; we can figure out what we want to do by then.”

Scott sighed and nodded at his best friend before taking a bite of the muffin and agreeing with him: it really was delicious. The right hint of bitterness, yet so sweet that it didn’t feel like a chore to take a bite. The first day of the new school year had already been more than problematic, and Scott couldn’t shake the thought that he would have to give up his resolutions for this year quickly.

Chapter Text

The elaborate battle plan that had been sacrificed during the last double history hour turned out to be nonexistent. Scott and Stiles had discussed, weighed options, and considered possibilities, ultimately concluding that they had arrived at no conclusion. Neither Stiles nor Scott could bring themselves to make a decision, and Scott's best friend was of the opinion that they should first consult Derek. However, they both agreed that they needed to gather information about Luke soon. Stiles in his own way, and Scott through Allison or Chris.

“I’m afraid this problem will resolve itself sooner or later when Jackson completely loses control and does something reckless,” Stiles speculated. “Then we’ll all have our hands full keeping an eye on him.”

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. The same goes for Derek.” Scott shot his best friend a look that unmistakably assigned him the responsibility in this matter.

“Ah yes, of course, it’s my job to keep the big bad werewolf in check. Why don’t you ever do it? I mean, you’re the super alpha, right? I’m just a regular teenager with my own problems that come with puberty.” Stiles couldn’t completely suppress a grin during his feigned whining.

“Because you’re his soulmate, and you’re like the second voice of reason,” Scott replied, joining in on the grin.

“I wonder if werewolf tamers will ever become an acknowledged profession and if you can get rich from it,” Stiles said, his smile widening even more. “You know, as a backup plan when we go to college?”

Scott groaned quietly at the mention of their post-high school plans. “Don’t remind me. My grades are already in the basement.”

“We’ll fix that, Scott. What do you think I’m here for?” Stiles threw his arm around his best friend’s shoulder. “We still have plenty of time, and maybe the supernatural phenomena will just disappear into thin air? Dreaming is allowed, after all.”

Scott and Stiles continued to joke around until they reached the school exit. Derek was already waiting in the Camaro for Stiles, clad in a leather jacket and wearing black sunglasses. Despite the grim expression he had put on, showing a hint of impatience at Stiles and Scott’s dawdling, he couldn’t suppress a twitch at the corners of his mouth. Despite the bickering they regularly engaged in, they were a perfect match. A team, a duo, unbeatable. These small quarrels often annoyed Scott, but at the end of the day, Derek and Stiles never went to bed angry at each other.

“Speak of the devil,” Stiles chuckled, breaking away from Scott. “Should we take you with us?”

"Not necessary," Scott shook his head. "I need to clear my head a bit and think."

"Are you sure?" Stiles asked doubtfully.

"Absolutely," Scott confirmed.

"Okay, then…" Stiles hugged his best friend goodbye. "Take care of yourself, okay?"

"I will." Scott returned the hug and watched as Stiles turned around, waved cheerfully one last time, nearly stumbled, and then got into the Camaro with Derek. A loving greeting kiss later, they were gone. Scott suppressed a quiet sigh. He envied Stiles for his happiness, in a positive way, of course.

"Nice car," noted Luke, who had appeared next to Scott. He had slung his backpack over one shoulder and was half-tucking his hand underneath it. "Was that his boyfriend?"

"Yeah, that's Stiles' soul mate," Scott confirmed.

"Good-looking guy," the Brit remarked, nodding appreciatively. "Looks like the universe is being kind to Stiles, huh?"

"You could say that." Scott studied him for a moment before glancing around furtively. There was no sign of his grandfather. A few students streamed past them, but Gerard was nowhere to be seen. A hint of suspicion began to grow in the young alpha.

"Weren't you supposed to come to high school with them this morning?" Luke asked.

"I was." Scott looked over at Luke, who squinted his eyes in surprise.

"Is someone else picking you up?" he inquired, fidgeting a bit with his backpack strap.

"No. My mom has to work, and my bike is in the shop."

"Should I give you a ride?" Luke fiddled with the collar of his college jacket and pulled the sleeves down until they covered the backs of his hands. He adjusted the strap of his backpack a little further over his shoulder and curled his fingers inward so they rested on the cuff of his jacket.

Scott could hear his heartbeat quicken slightly. His conversation partner was getting nervous. There could be several reasons for that, but the possibility that it had something to do with Gerard was the least comfortable. "I thought your grandpa was driving you home?"

"He has some conference or other. I'll pick him up in the evening. So, do you want a ride?" Luke reached into the left pocket of his black jeans and pulled out a car key, which jingled cheerfully with several keychains, including a miniature plastic version of Iron Man and Spider-Man.

"If it’s not too much trouble?"

„It doesn’t,” a faint smile crept onto Luke's lips as he started moving. “You just need to describe the way to me or at least feed your address into the GPS, unless you want to get home very late today.” The embarrassed laughter that followed raised more questions for Scott. Something was going on here. If this really was a trap, as Stiles had suspected multiple times today, he was walking right into it with his eyes wide open. However, this also meant an opportunity to learn a bit more about Luke. After a brief hesitation, Scott decided to take the chance:

“It’s not far. For Derek and Stiles, it’s just a little detour, and I don’t want to hold them up longer than necessary. They both have enough to do, and a little walking is good exercise.”

“Who said that? The gym teacher?” Luke squinted skeptically and shook his head as they stopped in front of his car. For the first time, Scott had the chance to take a close look at the vehicle.

The black paint gleamed in the sunlight. You could easily see your own reflection in it. The same went for the polished rims and the tinted windows, which barred any view into the interior. A carbon hood, fitted with several air vents, stretched over the elongated nose. The same applied to the side skirts of the Mercedes. The rear spoiler seemed to be made of the same material as the hood. The side mirrors were folded in, and the chrome exhaust pipes stared back at Scott calmly. Overall, the car looked like it had come straight out of a racing video game. Even though Scott didn’t know much about cars, he was aware that this specimen clearly belonged to a league of its own. This impression was confirmed as Luke unlocked it with a push of a button and opened the passenger door for him. The door swung upward silently instead of opening to the side as usual.

“At first, it’s a bit confusing,” Luke admitted, amused by Scott’s astonished expression. “I had to get used to it at first too.”

“Wow,” was all Scott could say as he climbed in. The interior was unlike anything he had seen before. A white leather interior blended perfectly with the black center console and the dashboard. Just below the temperature control area, a silver “SLR” was emblazoned. Instead of normal seats, racing seats had been installed. The Mercedes star dominated the steering wheel, and a glance at the indicated top speed on the speedometer made Scott dizzy. Even the gear shift and the air vents were crafted with high quality.

“Impressed?” Luke asked as he got in, inserted the key, and turned it once. All the buttons and switches lit up.

“A little,” Scott admitted quietly, still looking around in awe. He cautiously touched the leather, ran his fingers over the temperature control buttons, and widened his eyes in surprise as the doors closed by themselves, as if by magic.

“It’s a custom job,” Luke said, placing his backpack on the narrow shelf mounted in front of the rear window. “Basically a one-of-a-kind. You won’t find another car like this on either side of the equator.”

“You only have two seats,” Scott noted, deciding to keep his backpack with him, between his legs. He was still fascinated by everything happening inside the car. Everything felt so surreal, like something out of the racing games that Stiles and he often got lost in for hours.

“Yeah, that’s normal for sports cars; it’s not a station wagon,” Luke pressed a small button at the top of the center console, and the cover automatically slid back to reveal the navigation system.

“And what do you do when you need to transport more people?” Scott asked curiously.

“Never have to,” the Brit replied. “So, where do we need to go?”

Scott hesitated for a moment. He didn’t want to break anything, which was a silly thought. What could go wrong with a simple navigation system? He recalled Luke’s prompt and entered his address before buckling up himself. Luke turned the key a second time, and the car came to life. Contrary to Scott’s assumption, the engine was hardly audible inside. He could also see everything outside, despite the dark windows. His driver shifted gears, backed out of the parking space, and then drove off, guided by a female voice giving directions.

“And this is your first car?” Scott tried to make small talk, still impressed by the car’s interior.

“No,” Luke said, not taking his eyes off the road. “Dad only gifted it to me after I completed a long series of intensive driving courses, training, and the like. I’ve really only been allowed to use it for the past six months.”

„A half year,“ echoed in Scott's mind as he suppressed a sigh. The price of this beauty was probably higher than his mother's annual salary, including the house and property. Luke's first car had likely been similarly luxurious, while he himself was scrimping and saving for his bike, relying on his job at the animal clinic.

“Is the top speed a joke?” Scott asked, pointing to the red needle on the speedometer, which obediently stayed within the legal speed limit.

“Hmm, I know. At some point, the car had to be limited because otherwise, I wouldn’t have been able to get it registered. Plus, the air resistance becomes too strong at a certain speed. It would theoretically be possible to remove the limiter, but it's too much hassle for me,” the Brit explained, a hint of regret in his voice.

“That’s not what I meant,” Scott murmured, observing his seatmate from the corner of his eye as he nervously tapped on the steering wheel. Luke seemed tense. The werewolf briefly concentrated, glancing out the window and into the side mirrors, which had adjusted themselves automatically, but he saw nothing unusual. No danger, nothing. Everything seemed normal. A few people were using the sidewalk, and the traffic in front and behind them was typical.

“Can I ask you something?” Luke suddenly inquired.

“Sure.”

“Does it bother you that Stiles is with a guy?” Luke's heartbeat quickened even more. He pressed his lips together and stared straight ahead.

Scott's eyebrows shot up in surprise. “What makes you think that? No, of course not!” he indignantly dismissed the notion. He had never had a problem with Stiles and Derek's relationship. He was happy for them!

“Because there are plenty of sick people out there who find that unnatural, even though you can hardly do anything about it. Moreover, it’s wrong to reduce someone to their gender. You love your soulmate, as you do with other people, not because of their gender, but because of their character and existence.” Luke shrugged, trying to appear indifferent. “At my old school, we had more than enough of those kinds of individuals who bullied someone in class because their soulmate turned out to be a boy.”

Scott shook his head in disgust. That contradicted everything he had been taught. His mother was open-minded and discriminated against no one. He had been raised that way. For Melissa, it wouldn’t have been a problem if Scott introduced a boy instead of a girl at home. She had never criticized Stiles and Derek; on the contrary, she had been just as happy for them as Scott was. How someone could think that way was a mystery to him.

“Does it bother you?” Scott asked as they drove along the road. Another glance out the window revealed no suspicious activities nearby. Even the traffic appeared normal. So why was his seatmate so tense? Scott couldn't make sense of it.

“No, why should it?” Luke shrugged slightly. “I wouldn't care if my soulmate was a guy. Whether male or female, they would be compatible with me, my counterpart. We would be connected. Why should that be wrong?” He laughed bitterly. “How can love ever be wrong?”

Scott studied Luke again and could see resignation and sadness in his expression. He had slumped a little, and disappointment was spreading across his face. It had to do with the scar he had shown him that morning, Scott was sure of it. The way he had phrased it was also in the past tense. “You said ‘would be’—I thought you could still find your soulmate?”

“I could, if Grandpa is right. But what are the chances that I would find the right one among about eight billion people and that they would fall in love with me too? Don’t get me wrong; there are plenty of people out there who are happy without their soulmate. I just think they can never feel as much love as someone who has found their reflection.” Luke exhaled quietly and gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Wouldn't you at least consider it?” Scott observed a shadow pass over Luke's features. He bit his lower lip and rubbed his nose several times.

“I don't know,” the young Brit admitted softly. “I just know that I would give anything to find my soulmate.”

In these words resonated so much longing and unfulfilled hope that they hurt even him, as an outsider. Scott could understand this yearning. After things had ended with Allison, he had been devastated but had not shown it. He didn’t want to make her feel guilty, and she wasn’t to blame. Her mark had manifested at the end of the previous year, just like Isaac’s. His had appeared on his upper arm when he was fifteen, but after waiting a year and then Allison joining their class, he had given them a chance. Allison and he had gotten along well from the start. They had been happy together, just not meant for each other. For a long time, the werewolf had wondered whether his soulmate was male or female. It made no difference to him. He would love them just as he had loved Allison.

“Are you happy for Allison then?” Scott asked, partly to distract Luke a bit and partly to continue with his original plan of gathering some information.

“I don’t know. Alli and I hardly keep in touch; we’re basically strangers. There was the distance and Dad shielding me quite a bit. My only real support has been Grandpa. He somehow managed to see me regularly, was there for my birthdays over the past few years, and attended some of my games and competitions.” After this brief explanation, Luke’s mood lightened a little, and his heartbeat returned to normal. He appeared calmer and more relaxed.

A sense of regret washed over Scott. He knew Gerard and shared Stiles' view that he could hardly feel any affection for anyone. Back when he and Allison were a couple, the old man had shamelessly exploited that connection and hadn’t hesitated to blackmail Scott with it. Accordingly, it was highly unlikely that he showed any sort of closeness or interest towards his second grandchild for selfless reasons. The Alpha felt a twinge of pity for Luke. Cautiously and trying to be empathetic, he asked, “And your parents? Did they never have time to accompany you?”

“Dad is too busy with the business. He works almost around the clock, and the few hours we do spend together are filled with anything but serious conversations about my problems. Mostly it’s about whether I’m getting good grades and what I envision for my future.” The tentative good mood that had just begun to blossom was replaced by an expression of resignation. “Most of the time, it was Jonathan who accompanied me.” Luke now dared a tentative glance at Scott and added, “Professionally, of course. He would never criticize me or offer his opinion without being asked. That’s not part of his job, but he knows me well. Jonathan knows what things to lay out for me for the next day, what I want for breakfast, and which detergent has my favourite scent.”

Scott blinked several times before he unconsciously picked up the scent around Luke. There was deodorant, a bit of sweat, his own body odour, and…

“Lemon,” Scott stated unintentionally out loud, fighting the urge to slap his hand over his mouth. He cursed himself for being such a fool. The scent hadn’t been so strong that he should have been able to smell it from this distance. He had probably just revealed himself as a werewolf, but considering that Gerard knew about his existence, that was probably largely irrelevant.

“Yeah, lemon. You have a good nose,” Luke remarked, sniffing at the collar of his college jacket. “Or Jonathan uses too much detergent. One of the two.” Chuckling, he returned his gaze to the road, not before giving Scott an honestly warm smile.

Scott exhaled in relief. Luke had shown no sign of suspicion. Either he was a damn good actor, which Scott ruled out based on his somewhat irregular heartbeat, or he knew nothing about Scott’s supernatural existence. The latter was also hard to believe. However, he seemed to have deliberately omitted mentioning his mother when asked about his parents. Should he press further? Would that annoy him? Just as Scott decided to probe a little deeper, they arrived at his house, which Luke scrutinised with a critical eye.

“Is something wrong?” Scott asked, noting Luke’s admittedly strange reaction.

“You live here?” Luke leaned forward, tilting his head slightly. “In this house?”

A drawn-out, slightly questioning “Yes” was the werewolf’s reply. Scott thought there was nothing wrong with their house. It wasn’t a mansion, but it was a home where he felt very comfortable, along with his mother. A simple wooden structure with a small porch and a well-kept lawn. Besides, the security system against supernatural beings was second to none.

“It seems small-town, plain, typically American,” Luke remarked, quickly adding when he noticed Scott’s slightly displeased expression, “not that that’s a bad thing. It has its own charm. Rustic or something.” The attempt to salvage the situation only partially succeeded, as Scott wore a slightly annoyed look. His house was perfectly fine. “I’m sorry, that wasn’t how I meant it. I…” Luke scratched his neck awkwardly. “I can’t seem to do better, can I? No matter what I say?”

“Not really,” Scott grumbled, still irked. “Our house is fine, and I’m completely satisfied with it. We just can’t afford a luxury villa.” He refrained from adding that not everyone was born with a silver spoon in their mouth.

“Message received,” the Brit said, looking guilty.

“It’s okay,” the werewolf replied half-heartedly as he began to get out of the car.

“I’m really sorry, Scott. I didn’t mean to offend you. I…” Luke ran a hand through his hair, letting out an exasperated sound. “I really have a knack for making new acquaintances. Can I make it up to you?” he asked, looking contrite.

“You don’t have to,” Scott said, trying to maintain a neutral stance. He wasn’t usually like this, but somehow it had hurt him a bit. Luke’s behaviour seemed snobbish and condescending, and he had never quite been able to tolerate that. It annoyed him with Jackson too.

“I could invite you out to eat or play taxi for you in the next few days? At least until your bike is fixed?” Luke offered, looking regretful.

Scott thought for a moment. His anger was already fading. He could never really stay mad at anyone for long, and Luke genuinely seemed to want to apologise. Plus, it would mean he could keep an eye on him. Perhaps he would even learn something about what Gerard was planning? “Okay,” he finally nodded.

“Great, then…” Luke leaned back to his backpack, rummaging around for a pen and a notepad, scribbling something that suspiciously resembled his phone number in a corner, and tearing it off. “Your personal taxi and a voucher for one meal.” He extended his hand with the little note.

Scott reached for it and flinched as their fingers touched. A tingling warmth crawled along his fingertips, up his arm, and to his heart, which suddenly began to race. The pleasant sensation spread throughout his entire body. Luke seemed to feel the same way, as he showed exactly the same reaction. Ultimately, it was the Brit who withdrew his hand, and the feeling vanished as quickly as it had come.

“See you around,” Luke said, clearing his throat slightly awkwardly as the car door swung down, prompting Scott to duck his head and take a step back. The Mercedes moved off with a surprisingly smooth hum and was out of sight within seconds. Scott stood alone in the driveway of his house, examining his hand and gently touching his fingertips, one by one. What had that just been? Especially since he hadn’t felt it alone. Unable to make sense of it, he set off towards the front door.

Chapter Text

Stiles had by now gotten used to the Camaro. While he still preferred his old Jeep, he had to admit that Derek's car had its advantages. It was fast, sleek, and drew people's attention. When he had first stepped out of the black sports car, people had stared at him with raised eyebrows; now it was just an everyday occurrence. Yes, the grumpy and serious Derek Hale had found his soulmate in the lively, sarcastic, and highly intelligent Stiles Stilinski. It had been a bit of a shock for his father, but Derek had firmly become part of the Stilinski family. Noah and he could talk about sports while Stiles whipped up a meal for them in the kitchen. Somehow, they were a small, happy family. Moreover, Stiles loved Derek, and the feeling was mutual. Despite their bickering, which they sometimes even needed, not a day went by when they could stay mad at each other for long. The brewing storm from his partner wasn’t anything new to Stiles as he told him about the new arrival at Beacon Hills High.

“What?” Derek burst out, yanking the steering wheel and, amid the loud honking of the car behind them, maneuvering them to the side of the road.

“Whoa, Derek, calm down, my bones don’t heal as quickly as yours,” Stiles snapped, clearly irritated as he was jostled around despite his seatbelt during the maneuver.

“Please tell me that’s one of your jokes that I’m not supposed to laugh at,” the werewolf hissed, his expression hardening. For a brief moment, his brows furrowed so low that they almost touched his eyes, before concern washed over his features. Almost gently, he grabbed Stiles by the arm, helping him sit back up straight.

“No, it’s not a joke, Derek.” Stiles rubbed his upper arm, which had unintentionally met the passenger door during the maneuver, before shaking his head at Derek’s questioning look. “Nothing happened.” Despite his sometimes unmanageable temperament, which had clearly improved since being with Stiles, and contrary to his rough exterior, Derek was a loving and caring partner. He grumbled and complained, but he was always the first to pick Stiles up from practice when it was pouring rain or would protest loudly as he climbed into the car to raid the nearest supermarket so Stiles could cook fresh meals. Derek was the perfect soulmate, and Stiles couldn’t imagine a second without his beloved. It wasn’t just because of his admittedly attractive appearance; Derek looked like a model. No, that wasn’t it—or not just that—what Stiles loved about him was that little spark of love and care that shone in his green eyes whenever it came to his partner. The moments when he felt unobserved and smiled quietly to himself.

“I’m sorry,” Derek murmured, pressing a fleeting kiss to Stiles’ cheek, which brought a smile to the younger boy’s face. However, the soft expression on Derek’s face vanished instantly, replaced by stern seriousness. “Are you absolutely sure that this boy, this… what was his name again?”

“Luke,” Stiles answered, suppressing a quiet sigh as he saw his friend switch back to responsible Alpha mode. “Luke Taylor, son of Daniel Taylor, THE expert in weapon technology development.”

Derek mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and then steered the car back onto the road. His gaze was fixed ahead. He was deep in thought. It wouldn’t have taken a deeper connection or a longer-lasting relationship to interpret those signs. He always furrowed his brow slightly when he was thinking.

“You’re worried, aren’t you?” Stiles asked.

“Of course I’m worried. Especially when you say he could be dangerous.” Derek rubbed his perfect three-day stubble and then scratched his cheek. “How did he behave towards the others?”

“He had a run-in with Jackson. Isaac was on our team and is Allison’s soulmate. I don’t think he’d do anything to him,” the young Stilinski speculated. “He behaved normally towards Boyd and the twins, and Erica wasn’t in our gym class.”

“And you say he has a close connection to Gerard?” Derek glanced briefly from the road to Stiles, who nodded silently in affirmation. “Well, I do consider the boy a threat because of that, but what can a teenager really do? I mean, there are six of us, with Scott seven, and he’s alone. Allison stands by Isaac, and then there’s Chris and you.”

“Gerard didn’t pull him out of obscurity for no reason,” Stiles leaned back slightly, examining his reflection in the mirror. Distrust and concern were practically written all over his face. “The old psychopath never does anything without a reason, and you should have seen them, Derek—Luke was just like Allison back in the day, if not worse. He’s practically infatuated with him, subservient, if I’ve interpreted the signs correctly.” His gaze shifted to Derek, whose brow was now even more furrowed than before. It would have been counterproductive to lie to him or downplay the situation, especially since he knew Stiles well enough to see through a lie. He hesitated for a moment before opening his mouth to voice his second concern: “I also think he’s Scott’s soulmate.” Stiles’ words were barely above a whisper, yet he knew his partner understood. Internally, he braced himself to once again unintentionally meet the passenger door, but Derek remained surprisingly calm. He fixed his gaze back on Stiles, this time with a hint of doubt in his eyes.

“That can’t be. Scott has an L and an A on his arm, and you said this Luke’s last name would be Taylor.”

“I know, but I believe they’re both lying—Gerard and him,” Stiles speculated.

“How do you mean?” Derek raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“His original last name was probably Argent, or it still is. Personal data can be faked or changed. But that’s not what made me suspicious.” Stiles tapped his knee impatiently, fidgeting with the handle of the passenger door.

“Then what?” Derek sounded worried but also intrigued, his eyes back on the road.

“The coach said the directive for playing football came from above. Scott relied on his gut feeling; I know that. He chose Luke and not Greenburg for the team. They both played perfectly together. Assuming Luke was actually a striker on his school’s football team, and even captain, then he has experience and probably skill. But Scott doesn’t,” Stiles elaborated.

“Scott is a werewolf, Stiles. He has better reflexes than a human, is stronger, faster…” Derek countered.

“Of course, and even if Scott can now be classified as a sports star, he still lacks ball control, lacks the routine. Yet they played together as if they had been doing it for years. Despite Luke being just a human, even Boyd, Jackson, and the twins couldn’t take the ball from him. Scott was always in the right place, received the pass, played it back…” Stiles paused for a moment, reflecting on his words. There were simply too many coincidences. “Then he gave him the chocolate muffins, not me.”

“Maybe Scott is just nicer to him than he is to you?” Derek shrugged slightly, looking puzzled.

“Probably, Derek, but I just don’t like the ‘why’ of it. A second grandchild of Gerard appears out of nowhere, with potential access to an arsenal of weapons that would make the Pentagon drool, and seems to have an interest in Scott?” Stiles rubbed his chin, fidgeting restlessly with his legs.

“What do you mean by interest?”

“I don’t know if it’s feigned or not, Derek, but he had that same longing look as Scott does when he stares at the mark on his upper arm. Scott didn’t notice, but I did; Luke couldn’t take his eyes off him. There was this barely decipherable expression on his face over and over again.” Stiles closed his eyes, recalling the image.

Luke had tugged at his shirt and then touched his side. His gaze had been fixed on Scott, who was struggling with the fill-in-the-blanks exercise in English class. In a disturbing way, he had reminded Stiles of his best friend. The way his lips trembled slightly, accompanied by a hint of pain and regret. An unfulfilled wish, something like unspoken desire. Scott was probably good-looking; Stiles couldn’t really judge that about his best friend, but this behaviour was unusual.

“Are you absolutely sure?” Derek asked, completely non-judgmental.

“Yes, I’m absolutely sure,” Stiles confirmed with a nod. “Even if it’s just an act, Luke is definitely interested in Scott.”

“And do you have any idea why?” Derek’s focus shifted back to the road as he steered the car smoothly.

“To be honest? No. After the bite incident went south, I thought the old bastard would disappear from the scene, but apparently, I was wrong. Maybe he’s hoping Scott can ease his pain occasionally or heal him with a second bite?” Stiles gazed up at the ceiling of the Camaro. “Or maybe they want to isolate Scott from us.”

“That’s hardly possible. Scott is one of us, even if he’s not part of my pack. You’re his best friend, and you two are inseparable. Nothing can drive a wedge between you.” A hint of jealousy tinged Derek’s voice as he tried to reassure Stiles.

“We don’t know that. If Scott and Luke are meant to be together, they’d be connected, just like us. You would do anything for me, just as I would for you.” Stiles glanced over at his partner, whose posture suddenly stiffened.

“I would never ask you to choose against Scott.”

Stiles placed his hand on Derek’s arm, lightly brushing his fingertips along it, causing the werewolf to flinch momentarily before he extended his arm in response. A soft, contented sigh escaped Derek’s throat as Stiles continued, “Because you’re a good person, Derek. You’re not a puppet; you have a wonderful heart and are the best partner anyone could wish for.” A smile played on Stiles’ lips as he affectionately caressed his friend.

There it was again, that gentle and tender expression on Derek’s face. The hard shell that ultimately housed a soft core. Stiles had learned how to bring it to the surface effortlessly. They belonged together; they always had. When the mark had appeared on Stiles’ left chest, bearing a D and an H, he had known immediately who it referred to. The same went for Derek, who had initially resisted but ultimately succumbed to love, if one wanted to be romantic about it. By now, neither could imagine a life without the other. It was this very thought that pierced Stiles’ heart and clouded the comforting atmosphere they were currently in.

“What’s wrong?” Derek asked as he pulled up directly in front of the Stilinski home.

“Hmm?” Stiles feigned ignorance, pretending not to know what Derek was talking about.

“You seem a bit sad. What’s up, Stiles?” The werewolf switched off the engine and took Stiles’ hands in his, gently squeezing them while running his thumbs over the backs of his hands.

“I’m just afraid of losing you,” Stiles admitted quietly. Losing his soulmate was one of the worst things that could happen. He had seen it with his father when his mother had been taken by illness. A part of Noah had died with Claudia. He had held himself together for Stiles, and his son knew that, but he had never fully recovered from that loss.

“You won’t, Stiles.” Derek took Stiles’ right hand and placed it on his cheek, gently stroking it. “We will always stay together, no matter what happens.” There was no hint of doubt in his voice. He was absolutely certain. It was a quality that Stiles admired so much about his partner: no matter what Derek did, he believed it was right, bravely stepping forward even against overwhelming foes and into the deepest darkness. For his pack, his new family, for him.

“What do you say we go inside, tackle your homework, and then grab something to eat? I’ll think of something, I promise.” Derek leaned in to kiss Stiles gently. The younger boy relaxed, sinking back into his seat and wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck. For a brief moment, Stiles managed to forget all his worries. It was just him and his soulmate. He inhaled Derek’s scent, nestled against him, and savoured the intimate closeness. He pushed his doubts and the plan to investigate Luke far back into the recesses of his mind. They had time. Wasting an afternoon might not make a difference, right?

Chapter Text

It was early morning, and Scott stood in front of the bathroom mirror, dressed in a black tank top and joggers, with his toothbrush in his mouth. He had barely slept all night. The werewolf looked rather worn out. Light bags under his eyes adorned his face, and he appeared exhausted. The memory of that tingling and pleasant feeling in his body was too fresh in his mind. The young Alpha had tossed and turned in bed, thinking, but he couldn't make sense of it. Had it all been a coincidence? A simple reaction to another human body? No, because when he touched Stiles, it didn’t feel like that. The same went for Isaac or Derek. It was most akin to… Allison. For a brief moment, Scott had believed he might be falling for Luke, but that felt like a stretch, almost foolish. They barely knew each other, not even a full 24 hours.

The smell of pancakes wafted up from downstairs. Scott had heard his mother come home from her shift. Although Melissa was probably dead tired, she was still making breakfast for her son and would wait to sleep until he was out of the house. It had somehow become their routine. They were a team and had only each other as their immediate family. Melissa was an example that one could be happy without a soulmate, but that happiness didn’t have to last. She and his father had separated years ago. Scott tended to push that thought aside. He hadn’t been in contact with Rafael since then, and he didn’t miss him. His mother provided him with the parental love he needed.

“Scott?” he heard her call from downstairs. “Sweetheart?” She sounded a bit alarmed.

“Mom?” he called back.

“There’s a ridiculously expensive-looking sports car parked outside our house. Is there a particular reason for that?”

Scott hurried downstairs, toothbrush still in his mouth. Just in time, as the doorbell rang. His mother shot him a worried glance. The werewolf strained his ears for a moment. An uneven, rapid heartbeat, shallow breathing, the smell of hair wax and… lemons? Scott furrowed his brow. He gestured to his mother to not worry further and opened the door.

Standing before him was Luke, dressed in a cinnamon-coloured wool cardigan, with a black T-shirt peeking out underneath, paired with matching trousers and grey-black, mid-top sneakers. The Brit blinked in confusion for a moment before tilting his head and asking, “Is it a new trend to answer the door with a toothbrush in your mouth?”

Scott rolled his eyes, only to hurry and get rid of the toothbrush and wipe his mouth. He quickly stepped back inside before returning to the entrance. “What are you doing here?” he asked, eyeing Luke, who was just putting his car keys into the right pocket of his cardigan.

“Your taxi is ready. A bit early, as I’ve just realised,” Luke commented dryly, taking in Scott’s attire. “But at least you seem to maintain good oral hygiene.” The braces flashed appropriately as he spoke.

“I didn’t even call you? Besides, I thought your grandpa was driving you to school?” Scott frowned, watching Luke’s expressions, gestures, and especially his heartbeat closely as he replied:

“Grandpa can also be driven to school by Jonathan. Besides, he’s only coming in for second period today. He needed someone anyway.” Luke straightened his head again. “May I come in?” He stretched slightly and sniffed the air. “It smells like… pancakes?”

Scott hesitated for a moment. Luke was neither lying nor was he nervous, at least not any more nervous than he had been before opening the door. The werewolf couldn’t detect any ill intentions from his body language. His head advised him to be cautious, while his gut, strangely enough, urged him to invite him in. So what was he supposed to do? The decision was taken out of his hands by Melissa, who appeared behind him and gave Luke a curious once-over before breaking into an inviting smile.

“Good day, young man,” she greeted him warmly, extending her hand, which Luke promptly shook. A brief shake followed before they released each other, Luke returning the smile.

“Good day. I take it you must be Scott’s mother?” he asked politely, brushing his shoes on the “Welcome” mat before stepping inside.

“Correct,” she confirmed. “Are you hungry?”

Scott noticed a hint of hesitation in Luke’s features before he turned to him, wearing a questioning expression. The young Alpha pondered. His mother was just too kind-hearted when it came to such things. She had almost become a surrogate mother to Stiles and to Isaac before he moved in with Allison. The budding distrust in Scott strangely made him feel guilty. Luke’s smile had seemed sincere, and a part of him—one he couldn’t quite describe—somehow wanted him to join them, so he encouraged the guest with a nod.

“I don’t want to impose, Miss McCall,” Luke said, looking around the house with curiosity. His gaze lingered on Scott, giving off a guilty impression once more. Suddenly, the werewolf understood why he had received an early visit today: the faux pas from yesterday was weighing on Luke’s mind. He was probably feeling guilty. Strange—Luke hadn’t presented himself that way before, aside from the farewell yesterday, along with the accompanying apology.

“You’re not imposing at all, just sit down.” Melissa then shot Scott a stern look. “And you should hurry up, or you’ll be late.”

“Yes, Mum,” he sighed, making his way back upstairs to get ready for school. He listened attentively to the conversation developing between his mother and Luke from above.

“And how do you know Scott?” Melissa asked, her tone curious. “Usually Stiles and Derek pick him up, or Allison and Isaac.”

“I’m new at the school,” Luke replied, and Scott could hear the clattering of plates. “I was fortunate enough to be chosen by him for the team in PE.” A brief silence followed, almost prompting Scott to dash downstairs, but Luke continued. “But where’s my manners? Please excuse me, Miss McCall, I haven’t properly introduced myself. My name is Luke Taylor.”

“Someone has good manners,” Scott heard his mum laugh, which made him breathe a sigh of relief. In the meantime, he had moved on to changing his clothes. “But you don’t need to be so formal with me, you know? I’m Melissa, and that’s more than enough.”

“Courtesy and decorum dictate it, at least until you offer me a more personal form of address, Miss McCall.” Another brief moment of silence. “But of course, I will respect your wishes.”

Scott caught himself distractedly rummaging through his wardrobe. He had been following the conversation the whole time but had only managed to grab fresh boxers and a pair of jeans. Thinking back to yesterday, the way Luke had behaved towards Jackson didn’t quite align with the polite demeanor that Stiles had playfully analysed after lunch. On the contrary, Luke seemed courteous, albeit a bit reserved, perhaps a little stiff, but hardly snobbish or aggressive. Shaking his head to dispel these thoughts, he finally focused on his outfit.

“Are you from Britain?” he heard his mother ask, popping the lid off the coffee pot.

“What gave me away? The accent?” Scott could hear the shy smile in Luke's voice, almost picturing it in his mind.

“Subtle.”

“I was hoping it was my manners.” Luke's voice trembled slightly, as if he were suppressing a chuckle.

Scott quickly slipped into a T-shirt and hoodie before heading downstairs. The rest of the conversation had been relatively trivial. Luke had shared a bit about himself and particularly raved about his hometown, Cambridge.

His mother and the Brit were already seated at the table—Melissa with a cup of coffee, and Luke with a glass of orange juice. The table was set for three, and in the middle was a fourth plate piled high with a huge stack of pancakes. Scott glanced at the clock in the living room, which indicated they still had a bit of time, before grabbing a chair and sitting down.

“Help yourselves,” Melissa said, and at least Scott didn’t need to be told twice. He noticed from the corner of his eye that Luke was watching him as he piled a generous serving of pancakes onto his plate, poured some coffee into his red mug adorned with the number 11 and two crossed lacrosse sticks, and then dug into his breakfast.

“Scott,” his mother admonished half-seriously, shaking her head. “As if you haven’t eaten in days,” she commented on his table manners.

“I’m just hungry,” he replied with a mouthful, washing down several bites of pancake with a sip of coffee.

“Oh, let him be, Mi… Melissa. I think every boy our age is like this. At home, I often get told to rein it in a bit at the table too.” Luke started to load a pancake onto his plate, cutting it into bite-sized pieces before cautiously trying a bite. He chewed thoughtfully, and then his face lit up. “Blueberries?” he asked, to which Melissa nodded. “Delicious,” he remarked, spearing the next piece with his fork. “I haven’t had pancakes this good in ages.”

“That’s almost a bit too flattering,” Scott’s mother replied, though she genuinely seemed pleased as she wrapped her fingers around her cup.

“Indeed. The batter is fluffy, the blueberries are juicy, and I can taste a hint of cinnamon?” Luke shot her an inquisitive glance.

“You have quite the discerning palate. It’s cinnamon sugar, just a pinch,” she admitted, sounding surprised. “It gives it a slightly different taste than regular sugar.”

Scott blinked in bewilderment, glancing between his mother and Luke, who were practically beaming at each other. There was no trace left of the snobbish behaviour from yesterday. Luke seemed like a perfectly normal teenager genuinely enjoying something as simple as pancakes. Scott had half-expected him to spit out the bite in disgust, but that wasn’t the case. He wasn’t lying either; strangely, his heartbeat had calmed and was now steadily thumping away.

“Are you new in town? What brings someone from Cambridge to Beacon Hills? That must be quite a culture shock, right?” Melissa sipped from her cup while Luke helped himself to another pancake. Scott remained out of the conversation, partly because he always felt ravenous in the mornings and partly because he didn’t want to ruin the good mood. Something about the situation made him relax a bit. He also suspected that Luke might share something about himself that Scott didn’t want to reveal. For some reason, Luke seemed to like his mother. For a brief moment, Scott entertained the thought that Luke wanted to use her as leverage just like Gerard had before, but he quickly dismissed it. He felt almost guilty for that thought and didn’t understand why. His senses were either playing tricks on him, or he was experiencing an extremely strange combination of feelings.

“That’s a long story that would take too long to explain. Let’s just say it’s due to family obligations…” Luke took a sip of his orange juice. “And yes, you could say that. Cambridge is quite different. I miss the rain alone. Playing football on a soggy pitch is an added challenge.”

“You play football?” Melissa took another sip from her cup.

“Yes, and I’m also an avid cross-country runner, as well as a parkour enthusiast. Of course, I’m doing less of that at the moment, at least when it comes to cross-country, but I’ve already scouted the woods to find an optimal route for my training.” Luke returned to his pancake.

“You might want to steer clear of the woods. We have a relatively high wildlife population, especially wolves,” Melissa said, unable to suppress a quick glance at her son.

“Oh, I can take care of myself. Wolves have a sort of natural aversion to me,” Luke replied lightly.

Scott nearly choked on his piece of pancake at those words. He patted his chest, and both his mother and Luke looked at him with concern. That was definitely a jab. He was a hunter, just like Gerard and his mother, just like Allison and Chris. It took a moment for Scott to stop coughing, and he wiped the tears from the corners of his eyes.

“Are you alright?” Luke asked, which Scott dismissed with a hasty nod. After a skeptical glance, the Brit turned back to Melissa. “I know it might sound silly, but in our school team, I was nicknamed ‘Tiger’ because I apparently fight for possession of the ball like that big cat. The striker on our rival team goes by ‘Wolf’. The commentators had a field day using those names when we faced each other on the pitch. I consider it a distortion of my name, but…” He shrugged. “There are certainly worse nicknames than ‘Tiger from Cambridge’.”

Scott tried to calm himself down again. Either he was seeing things or he was extremely tense and cautious. Luke was chatting normally with his mother, though his gaze kept darting toward the werewolf, almost apologetically. Somehow, the young Alpha couldn’t quite figure out the Brit. He seemed vulnerable, almost shy, in front of him, while he had presented himself quite differently during their first encounter. He had also appeared confident in physical education and after their conversation. Could it really just be a guilty conscience?

“But you should start getting ready, or you’ll be late,” his mother said, taking Scott’s empty plate away. “The remaining pancakes…” Her gaze fell upon the four pieces that were still left.

"May I take those, if I may?" Both Scott and Melissa looked at Luke in surprise. "I know it’s a bit cheeky, but I’d be willing to trade my lunch for them with Scott."

"But don’t you get food in the school cafeteria?" Scott's mother asked, slightly confused.

"Yes, but it looked inedible yesterday. In exchange, I can offer homemade granola bars with blackberries, raspberries, and blueberries, as well as steamed Chashao bao." Luke scratched the back of his neck awkwardly as he was stared at. "Isn’t that an appropriate trade for pancakes?"

"I don’t even know what that is," Scott admitted.

"Steamed buns filled with grilled pork." Luke quickly added, "Freshly made, of course."

Scott scratched the back of his head. What on earth was going on with this boy? He was trading pancakes—good pancakes, mind you; Melissa didn’t cook poorly—for something that sounded quite elaborate. If this foreign-sounding food was as expensive and tasty as the muffins from yesterday, then the Brit was making a poor trade. Scott didn’t want to take advantage of him, and besides, he didn’t place much value on material things anyway.

"Are you trading?" Luke asked, his expression hopeful.

"I… um?" The werewolf looked helplessly at his mother. Should he accept?

"Isn’t your mother going to be disappointed if you trade her carefully prepared meal for something as simple as pancakes?" Melissa inquired.

There it was again, that brief moment when Luke’s expression faltered. He quickly regained his composure, and judging by Scott's mother's expression, she hadn’t noticed his reaction, but the werewolf did. He watched the Brit closely as he shook his head hastily. "No. My mother never prepares my lunch for me, anyway." He then hurriedly glanced at the clock across from him. "But we really should go, Scott, or we’ll be late."

Scott nodded slowly, noting in his mind that Luke seemed extremely sensitive about his past, particularly regarding his mother. He had avoided this apparent sore spot yesterday and had followed the same tactic today.

"Alright then, just a moment; I’ll pack them up for you." Melissa grabbed the plate and disappeared back into the kitchen, leaving the two boys alone.

"You actually have a nice place here. Cozy décor." Luke looked around a bit, his gaze landing on the photo on the small wooden side table next to the staircase. It showed Scott and Melissa hugging tightly, both beaming at the camera. He briefly reached out his fingers as if to touch it, then withdrew them. "You get on well with your mother, huh?"

"You could say that," Scott nodded, narrowing his eyes slightly as he sensed Luke's irregular heartbeat again. Why did he keep getting so nervous? This couldn’t be a coincidence. Before Scott could say anything, his mother returned, handing Luke the neatly wrapped pancakes in foil. He looked as pleased as punch. Could a monster be lurking in someone like him? Someone who fit in with Gerard Argent?

"Thank you very much, Melissa. I’ll make sure to return the favour in due time. Really." Luke shifted nervously from one foot to the other. "Could I perhaps ask for the recipe? At some point, of course?"

"Now you're exaggerating. They’re just ordinary pancakes," Melissa laughed, but then nodded. "I’ll write it down later, but I’m afraid I have to disappoint you; the recipe is available on nearly every cooking website out there."

"I don’t mind. Please, if you would be so kind." Luke raised his hand in farewell with a smile. "It was a lovely conversation. It was a pleasure to meet you, Melissa. Perhaps we’ll see each other again sometime?"

"I hope so," she smiled back at him. She then went over to Scott, hugged him tightly, and let him go. "Have fun at school, boys! Take care of yourselves."

"We will, Mum," Scott smiled, grabbing his backpack and following Luke outside, who carried the pancakes as if he were holding a treasure. Fumbling awkwardly, he pulled the key from his pocket, unlocked his car, climbed in, and carefully placed the pancakes on the back shelf. Scott got in as well and pulled out his phone to text Stiles that he didn’t need a lift today. As soon as that was done, they were on their way to the high school.

"You have a really nice mum, Scott," Luke remarked immediately. "Lovely, kind, open-minded." He sounded almost a bit envious.

"Do you think so?" Scott was naturally very proud of his mother; Melissa had raised him well without a father, and he considered himself a good teenager. Stiles and Isaac shared this view, as did Allison, but still—hearing it from a stranger reinforced his belief that he had the best mother in the world.

"Yes," Luke confirmed, his gaze fixed intently on the road. "Also, those were the best pancakes I’ve ever eaten. Neither the cook nor Jonathan could make the batter like that. Do you get that for breakfast regularly?"

"Uh, yeah? I mean, when Mum is around and cooking or baking?" Scott shrugged a little, taken aback. What was so special about pancakes? Especially compared to Luke's supposed breakfast? He envisioned the young Brit sitting alone at a massive table, teetering under the weight of all sorts of exquisite dishes and drinks. A thought struck him. This was the perfect moment to gently probe Luke a bit.

"You reacted a bit strangely earlier when Mum asked about your mother," Scott said, trying to keep his tone calm while watching the driver out of the corner of his eye.

"My mother was two nannies," Luke replied tersely, scratching the side of his nose with his thumb. His heartbeat quickened again.

"And your real mother?"

"Never really cared about me. We hardly ever bring it up at home. I was raised by staff who changed regularly, along with several tutors until I was old enough for a private school. Only Jonathan has stuck with me all these years." The tone of Luke's voice left no doubt that he didn't want to discuss it further. He quickly shifted the conversation towards high school, particularly focusing on the coach and how he had established himself as a sports teacher. Scott avoided delving back into the uncomfortable topic and answered the Brit's questions until they turned onto the school parking lot.

"We're here," he said, forcing a smile. "I'm looking forward to lunch today." With that, he got out, grabbed the pancakes, waited for Scott, locked the car with the press of a button, and then stood next to him. "What are you waiting for?"

"For Stiles," Scott explained.

"Ah, right. I won't keep you any longer then. See you later." Luke waved goodbye before disappearing, leaving Scott alone. He watched him for a moment before burying his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, using the wait for his best friend to mentally replay the earlier situation. There was something off, but the werewolf couldn't quite put his finger on it. He decided he would keep a close eye on Luke today, alongside Stiles. After a short while, he realised something felt a bit strange, as if something was missing. With each passing second, that feeling intensified. It wasn't until Stiles finally climbed out of Derek's car that the sensation began to fade. Scott greeted his best friend with a friendly hug before filling him in on the latest news, just as Stiles did the same with him.

Chapter Text

"Well, you look even worse than Jackson did after the whole Derek incident," Stiles remarked dryly, eyeing Scott's dark circles. "Bad night's sleep?"

"Not at all," Scott replied, rubbing his palms over his eyes. "It's a long story. But first, tell me what your research has uncovered." At the mention of "research," Stiles seemed to shrink a little, a faint blush creeping onto his pale cheeks. "You did do some research, right?" Scott asked.

"Yes, I did. Among other things," Stiles replied, clearing his throat subtly.

"I probably don't want to know, do I?" Scott interpreted his best friend's behaviour with a wry grin. "Or is it something I shouldn't know?"

"I could draw you a diagram if you'd like, or provide an audiovisual description with all the details?" Stiles attempted to deflect, but Scott just shook his head vigorously. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely sure," Scott confirmed. "As much as I love you, bro, I really don’t want to hear any of your bedroom stories. Let’s focus on the important stuff: What did you find out?"

By this point, they had reached their lockers. Each of them ducked behind their doors, rummaging for what they needed for the next class while continuing their conversation. Their expressions and gestures were hidden, but it wasn’t necessary to guess the look on the other’s face; they had known each other since childhood and were so tightly knit that they trusted each other implicitly.

"Depressingly little. There are no records on Luke. He practically doesn’t exist, like a ghost. No entries on social media, no reports, no enrolment data from the most prestigious private schools in Cambridge, nothing. Not that it’s easy to get that kind of information, but there’s absolutely no trace. Daddy seems to be doing a great job shielding his son from the public eye." Stiles sounded a bit frustrated.

"Do you think he was lying?" Something inside Scott bristled at the thought of accusing Luke of dishonesty. He didn’t want to think badly of him, at least not in this moment. That felt unusual for someone he barely knew. For a brief moment, that warm feeling returned, the tingling that made his fingertips twitch as he put away his history book.

"No. That’s not unusual at all. Public figures are extremely keen on keeping their private lives secret. Sometimes, they even hire entire companies to ensure that nothing about their clients leaks out. It seems they’ve found such a client in Daniel Taylor."

"Is that concerning or not?" Scott asked after a brief silence. The pleasant feeling had vanished again. He was already yearning for it back and couldn’t explain why. It had made him happy, allowed him to forget worries and problems, and had given him a sort of heart flutter. The good kind.

"Not really. Especially since his father maintains a great deal of anonymity regarding his private life. The official biography is exceedingly dull and reflects the ideal success story of any entrepreneur: groundbreaking invention, patenting, making a fortune, donating a portion to charity, keeping some for himself, and investing the rest in high-risk stocks that turned out to be profitable. No scandals, hardly any negative press, apart from the fact that his company develops cutting-edge weapons that serve more than mere deterrence, nothing. He’s officially single and the father of a son, but the name and age of the child couldn’t be determined."

"So, you found out nothing," Scott concluded, slamming his locker shut.

"Exactly," Stiles confirmed, mirroring his action. "There’s nothing to be found about Luke through official channels."

"And unofficially?" Scott didn’t like the look on Stiles' face.

"That's the question. However, I would prefer not to have to resort to the solution. The best thing will be to have a chat with Chris and Allison. Derek said you should do that, or Isaac."

"Well, she would first have to be back from her short holiday. But I can check in with Chris today."

"Tomorrow or something will be fine. They’re coming back then, right? Lydia and Allison?"

"Yes, as far as I know, they are."

"Very good, because Isaac's mood is unbearable without Allison. He was with Derek and me for a bit yesterday and phew…" Stiles waved his hand back and forth, shaking his head. "That’s all from my side, anyway."

"Right, I suppose it’s my turn," Scott said, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning his shoulder against his locker. "Besides football, he seems quite interested in cross-country skiing and parkour. What even is that?"

"Parkour is basically a way of moving where you try to overcome obstacles as efficiently as possible. Efficiency is the main focus," Stiles explained, which only resulted in confusion for Scott. His best friend sighed softly. "A wall is overcome in such a way that you lose as little speed as possible. Creativity is key, along with resourcefulness and corresponding physical fitness."

"That sounds kind of exhausting," Scott said thoughtfully. "It reminds me of the first training after my bite, when I jumped right over the defender."

"Sort of, let’s just leave it at that, okay?" Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly. "How do you know that, by the way?"

"Because he told my mum today."

"What, he told your mother?"

Scott hesitated for a moment before he began to explain to Stiles about his carpool situation yesterday and today. He also talked about their conversation and, a bit reluctantly, about Luke's scar. The latter felt like a betrayal to him; Luke had shown it to him in confidence, and he didn't want to betray that trust. But Stiles was also his best friend, and they had no secrets from each other. The story about the scar seemed to particularly interest Stiles, as well as Scott's emotional turmoil, prompting Stiles to raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"He said that’s where his soul mark used to be?" Stiles gestured towards the area Scott had shown him on his own body.

"He did, and he wasn't lying about it; I would have noticed," the werewolf added with a nod.

Stiles stared at Scott's right upper arm, furrowing his brow. He thoughtfully tapped his chin with his index finger, which earned him a questioning look from the Alpha. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, shook his head, tilted it to the side, and seemed to be wrestling with himself.

"What’s wrong?" Scott asked, concerned about Stiles' unusual behaviour.

"Scott, I… I’m just not sure yet, so I don’t want to raise false alarms. I have a theory that would fit very well into the pattern. But if I’m wrong, I’ll create completely false expectations and hopes, and I wouldn’t want to burden you with that."

Scott furrowed his brow and pushed himself away from his locker to approach Stiles. He stopped in front of him, placing his hands on Stiles' shoulders. "Stiles, you can tell me anything and share any theory, alright? I promise I won’t do anything rash, and I won’t be disappointed."

Stiles turned away from Scott’s gaze, avoiding it, staring at his sneakers, tugging at the sleeve of his checkered flannel shirt, until he finally found the courage to speak: "I’m just scared, Scott."

"Scared of what?" he asked calmly.

"Scared for you." His best friend looked up, appearing somewhat embarrassed. There was indeed a glimmer of fear in his caramel-coloured eyes. "Scott, you’re my best friend; we’re like brothers. If I’m right about my theory…"

"Right about what? Come on, Stiles, just say it. Nothing will ever tear us apart, you know that," Scott reassured him, gripping his shoulders firmly. "I promise."

"I think Luke is your soulmate," he whispered quietly, and Scott’s grip loosened slightly. Fixating again on his shoes, he spoke on, feeling dejected: "I know it doesn’t fit with the initials, but what if he wasn’t born as Luke Taylor, but as Luke Argent? Or maybe he still goes by that name and just lied?"

"And what would that change between us?" the werewolf asked gently, pushing aside the thought that Stiles might actually be right. Right now, it was about his best friend, and that was what mattered most.

“It could change everything, influence everything. Luke seems to be under Gerard's influence, and if he is your soulmate, then in the end, you might have to choose between us and him.” Stiles looked up, his eyes slightly glassy.

“I will never choose between you and anyone else,” Scott tried to reassure him. “No one is as important to me as you are, you know that, Stiles. Even when I was with Allison, that didn’t change.”

“That’s different, Scott. You loved Allison, but with Luke, you’d be connected. You would be a duo, made for each other, like Derek and I are. Much more intense. You wouldn’t be able to help but stand by him. Gerard could use you, blackmail you, keep you on a short leash—pick your term. I just don’t want to lose you, bro.” Stiles hesitated for a moment before pulling Scott into a tight embrace, only to let go again almost immediately. “If I’m wrong, you’ll just end up disappointed. I… I shouldn’t have brought this up.” He averted his gaze and quickly wiped at his eyes.

“Stiles, I…” Scott didn’t know what to say. All the time he had waited for his soulmate, and still waited, the thought had never crossed his mind that anything could change in his relationship with Stiles. That it could change at all. Without Stiles, his life wasn’t complete; it felt like a piece was missing. He struggled to find the right words, starting to speak, stopping, reconsidering, weighing his thoughts, waiting for his voice to return, which had suddenly abandoned him. A life without Stiles, a life against Stiles—he wouldn’t allow it, never. His friendship with Stiles and the others, Derek, Isaac, and the rest, was more important to him than any potential soulmate.

“Stiles, look at me for a moment,” Scott urged after a brief period of uncomfortable silence. His best friend complied reluctantly but eventually met his gaze. The werewolf looked him straight in the eyes. “No one will ever tear us apart, not even my soulmate. I will make sure of that, okay? And if it means I have to give up my soulmate.”

Stiles wiped at his eyes again. “You know that’s not how it works. Once you find each other, that’s it. I want you to have that, bro, but… God, I sound selfish, don’t I?”

The Alpha shook his head reassuringly. “You don’t. If you’re right, then I have a choice, because he said it would only work if his soulmate fell in love with him. I would never fall for someone who could drive us apart, someone who wants to hurt you. So, chin up, we’re a team, bros.” He smiled at Stiles, which seemed to calm him down.

“And what if it turns out differently? I mean, what if you do fall in love? Do you even like guys?”

“I wouldn’t care if my soulmate was male, but I would care if he had a problem with our friendship. I’d send him packing before that happens, okay? No one is worth giving you up for.”

“Scott, you don’t even know what you’re saying,” his best friend mumbled.

“Actually, I do.” Scott pulled Stiles into another firm hug. “We’re sticking together, forever. Bros before hoes and all that.”

“But we should probably stop now, Scott; people are staring,” Stiles said, albeit muffled, as he clung to his best friend despite his words. They broke apart and grinned at each other. “Onward to the hopeless fight known as high school,” he added before they set off towards the classroom, laughing with relief.

Chapter Text

Scott honestly didn't know how he survived time until lunch break. He had barely been able to concentrate. Despite his promise to Stiles, which he undoubtedly wanted to fulfill and would fulfill, his words haunted his mind. Even his best friend was of the opinion that their new classmate could be his soul mate. So, there was a possibility that Luke was the person he had been waiting for so longingly. But could that be true?

Again and again his gaze had slipped in the lesson to the Briton, who sat behind him on the left and either followed the lessons, or had a keen interest in letting his pen wander back and forth between his fingers, and watching that. When he noticed Scott's gaze, he smiled, but somehow, he seemed absent. Did he think about the same thing as the werewolf? That they perhaps belonged together? That the mark will appear on his body? A S and a M? Unconsciously, Scott had repeatedly reached for his right upper arm, where the initials of his companion rested. He also stared at the spot where Luke's scar was. He would ask him today where he got them from. That's what kept him busy.

Stiles and Scott also received company in the canteen. Luke asked politely beforehand, and even though Stiles had put on a disgruntled expression, he had agreed that they would have lunch together. The Briton's eyebrows soared as he examined Scott's and Stiles' tray with today's lunch menu, overcooked spaghetti with an indefinable sauce and a small tetrapack orange juice.

"Don't you want to swap anymore, Scott?" he asked him, reaching into his backpack to pull out the well-stowed pancakes.

"I, um, I had totally forgotten that," the werewolf admitted. That's right, there had been something. Luke had wanted to trade with him.

"Swap?" Stiles gave the two of them a suspicious look. "What do you want to swap?"

"Scott's mother gave me her rest of the pancakes, so I offered to give Scott my lunch," Luke explained lightly, hesitating briefly. "Can I borrow your cutlery?" He pointed to Scott's fork and knife, which were still resting unused next to the spaghetti plate.

"Sure," said the werewolf and handed his counterpart what he wanted.

"Thank you." As soon as he had the cutlery in his hands, he reached back into his backpack and pulled out a black lunch box on which an Ironman was enthroned, his hand stretched forward. Another handle brought to light yesterday's thermos, a smaller, brown box with a Venom as a motif, which just cheekily stretched out its tongue and again an elongated box, which probably housed Luke's own cutlery. Why he then needed Scott's was a mystery to him.

Luke carefully pushed the lunch box open, snapped the lid upwards and exposed six small circular dumplings, each with several slots. The second box contained several granola bars, in which different types of berries, Scott could recognize himberries, blackberries and blueberries at first glance, which had been incorporated. He pushed both towards Scott, under Stile's ever-widening eyes, and unscrewed his thermos.

"What are these things?" asked Scott, examining the dumplings in detail.

"Chashao bao. I already explained this to you this morning: steamed yeast rolls that are filled with grilled pork. A popular dish throughout China, in the variation mainly prepared in Huanan. I hope they haven't become tough or too cold by now. If it does, then I sue the manufacturer of the thermobox." Luke began to cut his pancakes into bite-sized bites.

"Did you attack a Chinese store, or how do you get such food?", Stiles wanted to know, staring a little longingly over to Scott, who draped his tray with the canteen food on one of the free chairs.

"No, Jonathan prepares my meals fresh every day. After all, that's also his job." Luke sipped on his thermos flask lid and sighed comfortingly. Scott could hear the same smell of tea as yesterday.

"Did your butler also make the granola bars himself?" asked Stiles and the desire for one of them was written on his face.

"Of course, just like he does all the other things in the household. I had already thought about hiring staff or taking them from home, but there is not enough space in the apartment for that. I'm also happy with Jonathan's cooking skills." Luke watched Scott until he cleared his throat and handed him the box. "Here, I've completely forgotten." When he opened it, Scott also knew why Luke needed cutlery: he only had a pair of chopsticks with him. But the alpha had never seen such chopsticks before. Those in the Asian restaurants were usually intended to break up and were thrown away afterwards, these here seemed much too precious for that.

Two Far Eastern dragons meandered around the light wood, whose handle ends had been painted blue. Both grew antler-like horns from the skull. They had claws, scales, something like a back comb, a neck mane that stood out from the rest of the body, and a beard reminiscent of a cat's whiskers. The one on the right rod was yellow, with a brown ridge, brown horns, red eyes, a black nose and beige mane or whiskers. His counterpart was kept in red, with yellow mane, yellow whiskers, yellow ridge, black eyes and gray horns.

"Take them," Luke told him as Scott just stared at the eating utensils. It was not only because of the fact that he could hardly imagine that something so precious was there to eat with, but also because he had never really eaten with chopsticks. At the Chinese in Beacon Hills, you were served commercial cutlery and the werewolf had always gratefully accepted this offer. But he didn't want to offend Luke either, and after a short hesitation, he took both chopsticks out of their velvet-lined container. Hardly that he had in her hand, style approached, which examined her insistently.

"Do you actually have normal stuff too?" he asked sarcastically.

"My stuff is normal," Luke countered dryly.

"I have never seen anyone possessing such chopsticks. Are they dishwasher safe at all?" Stiles looked from the chopsticks to Luke, whose corners of mouth twitched amusedly.

"There's a first time for everything, huh?" he said mockingly. "I don't know if they are. Jonathan always cleans our cutlery, which includes the chopsticks."

"Yes, and there is also a first time for a hint of megalomania and decadence," Stiles replied slightly sourly. "Where do you get something like that from?"

"My father once brought them to me from a business trip. In any case, I wish you a good appetite." With that, Luke made fun of his pancakes, as well as Stiles over his spaghetti. Only Scott fell by the wayside and looked back and forth between the chopsticks and the yeast dough pockets. How was he supposed to eat with this? He clamped them both between his fingers, hooked them and tried unsuccessfully to charge one of the yeast rolls. In the movies and documentaries, it always looked so easy. Even the second and third time it did not work out and the young Alpha was already toying with the idea of looking for conventional cutlery when he felt a gentle pressure on his hand.

"You're holding them wrong," Luke gently explained to him. "I can no longer watch this, otherwise you will die of starving."

Before Scott could protest, he noticed that her two fingers were touching again, just like yesterday. The Briton had bent over the table a little and fiddled with him. This warm tingling immediately reappeared and also stopped while Luke put the chopsticks in the right position. The occasional twitch of his counterpart revealed to him that he probably felt the same way as Scott.

"It's really not that hard, it just takes a little practice."

"Show me how you do it," Sighed Scott as the chopsticks got stuck again.

"Okay, it's easy." Luke took the food aids out of his hand, and the pleasant feeling immediately disappeared. The Alpha was almost a little sad about this fact. Damn, what was really wrong with him? He behaved like a... a teenager who had to deal with his crush. The Briton placed the chopstick with the yellow dragon in the skin fold between his thumb and index finger. His middle finger rested on the middle part of the rod and held it. He held the second chopstick, like a pen, with the tips of his thumb and index finger. Luke tapped the tips once on his plate so that they were about the same length and then moved the second chopstick so that a pair of pliers could be formed. "See? It's simple." Effortlessly, he grabbed one of the yeast rolls and held it in front of Scott's nose.

He needed a moment to realize what he wanted. To underline his words, Luke asked him to open his mouth. Although it was actually embarrassing to be fed as a 17-year-old, he complied with the request. The face of his counterpart brightened and got a very soft pull when he pushed the yeast bag into Scott's mouth. He carefully pulled the chopsticks back and gave the werewolf time to chew.

"And?" Luke asked hopefully. "Does it taste good?"

Scott nodded affirmatively and swallowed. In fact, it tasted delicious. The yeast dough was fluffy and the pork was well seasoned. Contrary to Scott's assumption, it was not just any tough pamphlet. But what made him much happier than the quite good bite was that Luke was now actually smiling. Like in the locker room yesterday. A little shy, almost cute, how the braces flashed and he also noticed that the chopsticks in his hand were shaking.

"The next one you need to take by yourself." Luke got up and moved behind Scott, where, without protest, he again clamped the chopsticks between his fingers and put the own hand around his. He could feel the warm, light skin on his own, feel his warm breath in his left ear. The alpha's heartbeat accelerated as Luke led him and grabbed the next yeast bun.

"You see, quite simply." Scott didn't have to turn around to see Luke's expression. He smiled even bigger, even wider, even happier. The werewolf's cheeks literally glowed as he, with help, took the next bite. At the moment, he didn't want to help himself, instead got support of Luke. A small side glance at Stiles finally made him a little bit embarrassed. His reproachful, but also incredulous facial expression spoke volumes.

"I think I'm trying to do the next one on my own," Scott said hastily.

"Of course," Luke replied and sat down again. He gave Scott one last cautious look before he made fun of his own food.

"Will I get something too?" grumbled Stiles and let the fork sink after the third bite of spaghetti.

"It's for Scott," Luke interjected, which gave Scott's best friend an irritated expression.

"I also asked Scott."

"I um, me..." The werewolf looked back and forth between Luke and Stiles. "May... may I?" Why did he even ask that?

"Of course, you can, it's your food. If you want to share it, go ahead."

Stiles didn't even wait for the answer, but grabbed two of the yeast rolls and also two of the granola bars. Busy with himself, Stiles began to eat his new lunch and looked more than satisfied. Luke did the same and so Scott was left to fight with foreign food culture alone. In fact, at the third attempt, he managed to grab the yeast bun and eat it. He could have gotten used to this fare. A little strange, varied and also the granola bars he tried (he had pushed his last yeast bun over stiles) tasted delicious.

"You like the Marvel Universe a lot, huh?" asked Stiles between two bites of granola bars, pointing to Luke's lunchboxes.

"Marvel, DC, both like the same. Whether Ironman and Green Lantern, or Venom and Gorilla Grodd." Luke shrugged his shoulders and shoved a piece of pancake into his mouth. "Both have their pros and cons."

"And anime too? Yesterday you had other boxes with you?" Stiles gave Scott a glimpse in the sense of "do it." The werewolf understood what his best friend was up to.

"Yeah, Dragon Ball is my favorite anime," the addressee answered Stiles' question succinctly.

Scott now also wanted to hook in and direct the conversation to another topic, then someone joined them, without being asked. The old man smiled kindly and cleared his throat so that all three of them looked at him. "Would anyone have the goodness to grant me a little space?" Both Scott and Stiles made no effort to comply with the request, but Luke had pushed the annoying chair aside faster than they could react. Gerard rolled up to the table and took a plain-looking, grey plastic box from his lap.

"Grandpa!", Luke rejoiced and immediately set about unpacking his lunch, in the form of two sandwiches, from the paper cover. "Nice to see you. I just wanted to go to your office," his grandson smiled at him.

"Stop," laughed Gerard and raised his hands defensively. "You shall not focus your whole life solely on me, my dear boy." His gaze wandered over to Scott and Stiles. The werewolf almost got sick at the sight of this harmonious grandfather-grandson relationship and his best friend seemed to feel the same way. Even if the old man was a good liar, it was clear to Scott that this was only an artificial spectacle, at least from the point of view of the elder.

"As I see, have you already made friends?" His lips turned into a smug grin as he nodded to Scott and Stiles.

"Possibly? To make friends in such a short time, is that possible?" Luke gave Scott a sincere smile. Stiles was completely ignored. "Anyway, I've arrived well in case you're worried."

"I know that." Gerard did not let the werewolf out of sight while he spoke. "Why don't you even invite them home? Don't you young people do that anymore?"

"The doctors said you needed rest, Grandpa, so that you could recover soon." Luke sounded reproachful, as well as worried.

"Oh, what do these quacks already know? I feel much better now. I feel like a complete person again, since I no longer have to live in this nursing home. I would be happy about a little life in the apartment. You too, right, Scott?" The eyes of the former head of the Argent family narrowed a little.

Scott wanted to reply that he could put this joy elsewhere when Stiles, inconspicuously, kicked his leg. His best friend preceded him by answering for him, "Of course Scott would be happy." The young Alpha gave him a look as if he had gone completely crazy.

"Very nice. Then Luke is no longer so alone." Gerard's eyes wandered to his grandson. "I will have to work longer again today. So don't wait for me, my boy." Then he bit off one of his sandwiches.

"I'll pick you up then, yes?" Luke's attention immediately turned to Scott. "If you want, could we do our homework together today and then do something? Watch a movie at home? Or abuse my gaming console?" He sounded so euphoric that Scott found it difficult to deny him this wish. Suddenly, the werewolf also realized, that Luke had probably had no friends before. That's why it was new and exciting for him and besides, part of Scott wasn't averse to this idea, although he would still have liked kill Stiles.

"Sure, I just have to let my mom know," he said, trying to hide the hesitation in his voice.

"Well, then that would be clarified," Gerard interfered again, who dismissed Stiles' poisonous look only with an amused smile. He looked at the watch on his wrist and sighed softly. "I have to go back to the office. Some overconcerned mother thinks she has to shorten my lunch break."

"Wait Grandpa, I'll just take you to the office." With that, Luke packed up his things, grabbing his chopsticks, stowed everything in the backpack, which he hurriedly clamped over his shoulder with a strap, as well as Gerard's rest of lunch, before he raised his hand to say goodbye and pushed his grandfather out of the cafeteria. As soon as Scott was sure that both were out of earshot, he turned to Stiles and drove at him:

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

"Why?" asked Stiles innocently, biting off his granola bar.

"Why? I'm probably alone with them today?"

"You're alone with Luke," he corrected Scott. "This is the ideal way to find out about Gerard's plans."

"And what if he expected it? I mean, he only invited me, not you."

"That was foreseeable, also Derek and me will be around, we will take care of you. If something goes wrong, write me shortly and we're already there to help you, okay?" Stiles put an arm around Scott's shoulders, looking at him only darkly. "Oh, come on, don't make such a face. If Luke's extravagant lifestyle continues in his apartment, then today you'll probably play Day One Editions, on the latest Playstation, on a 90-inch TV while I get bored with Derek."

"Can you do that at all? Being bored with Derek?", Scott hummed and had to be careful not to laugh. His anger had almost evaporated.

"We know how to keep busy," Stiles replied dryly. "By the way, the granola bars are really good. Make sure you can elicit the recipe for this from the butler."

"Do you have any other wishes?"

"Well, some, but none that you could fulfill for me."

In the end, they both laughed again and even if Scott felt a little queasy, Stiles was right: This was the ideal opportunity to find out something about Gerard and Luke. If necessary, he could just run away and when Derek and Stiles were around, he could count on reinforcements. In addition, his heart beat a little again, at the thought of a little time together with Luke. Maybe it would be a nice afternoon after all?

Chapter Text

The rest of the school day went relatively smoothly. They only had art and biology left, and Scott tried to block out everything around him as best as he could. His thoughts were focused on the upcoming afternoon. He was about to enter the lion's den, and that was, to put it mildly, not something one should really look forward to. Strangely enough, after careful consideration, he actually did. He had briefly texted his mother that he would be home later, said goodbye to Stiles, and was already sitting next to Luke in his car before he even realized what was happening.

The drive took them into the inner core of Beacon Hills. Despite some new constructions and a few office complexes that looked like a desperate attempt to bring in some business, the town's rather rural style was undeniable. They headed straight for a multi-story building that could hardly be more than ten years old. A brown paint gave it a rustic impression, as did the dark balconies. Overall, the complex looked terribly bare from the outside. This impression was reinforced as Luke rounded the block and turned into the entrance of an underground parking garage. Their conversations had been trivial in nature, discussing Scott's career as an up-and-coming lacrosse star, a shared dislike for the new chemistry teacher (who was just as bad as Mr. Harris), Luke's lack of talent in art and math, and so on. The werewolf still had the question about the origin of the scar burning on his lips, but he wanted to bring it up at the right moment, and that moment had not yet come.

An elevator took them upstairs, where Luke immediately made his way toward a white door labeled Taylor/Argent. One turn of the key later, they both entered the Brit's domain, and Stiles seemed to be right once again: Luke's apartment perfectly continued the trend of expensive sports cars. Following the spacious entrance hall was a large, open living/dining area. The kitchen was darkly decorated and seemed to gleam. High-end furniture, from the large glass table to the dining chairs and the leather sofa, fit perfectly into the apartment. The large television did its part to leave Scott's jaw on the floor.

"Come on, let’s go upstairs to my room," Luke said casually, gesturing for Scott to follow him with a wave of his hand. A wrought-iron spiral staircase led them to the upper floor, which was similarly furnished as the living area below. Once again, the Brit headed toward a dark-colored door, giving Scott a glimpse into his personal realm; a realm that felt about three times larger than the werewolf's.

The large double bed was adorned with bedding featuring a Son Goku with white hair, as he built up a blue energy beam in his clasped hands. A large poster hung from the ceiling, depicting a blond boy with blue eyes in a purple shirt, showing a golden laurel wreath with the letters "SPQR." The sword in his hands was surrounded by lightning. An England flag, with the logo of Manchester United—or whatever that was—was attached above another poster showing a man in his late twenties. Scott could make out a signature that likely belonged to a "Harry Kane." A pair of orange and white soccer boots hung from the flag.

In the room, there was also a monstrous television, in front of which a PlayStation had taken its place on an appropriate table. The adjacent wall shelf contained what seemed to be the largest collection of video games Scott had ever seen in his life. They all appeared to be neatly sorted alphabetically. Two black controllers lay ready, just waiting for someone to dive into the action, preferably from the extremely comfortable-looking dark sofa.

There was also a large desk with a laptop, a well-stocked bookshelf, and several certificates and awards, all bearing Luke's name. The large glass display case in the back corner of the room revealed a multitude of medals and trophies, and Scott could even make out newspaper articles in which the Brit was beaming, proudly holding up his awards. Some of them showed several boys his age, all in red football jerseys. Luke apparently wore the number 9 on the field.

Scott felt almost a bit overwhelmed by all the things. It wasn’t that the room seemed uncomfortable; rather, like the rest of the apartment so far, it gave off a reserved impression. Everything appeared to be spotless and was arranged in a way that served a purpose, with the exception of the room’s decoration. Additionally, all the pictures only showed Luke—neither his father nor anyone else, at least at first glance.

"Choose a game in the meantime; I'll get us something to snack on, okay?"

With that, Luke had already disappeared again, leaving Scott alone. With every second he spent in this room, he felt it was more like something taken from a designer catalog and thrown into the space. The furnishings inside probably cost more than his mother earned in five years, and yet, despite the personal touch that clung to Luke's domain, something was missing, just like the rest of the apartment so far: warmth. It felt cold and uninviting. It wasn't due to a lack of houseplants or the rather dark style—it seemed almost sterile. Just as Scott was about to approach the video game shelf, his gaze fell on the black nightstand. A picture frame made of light wood stood on it, standing out like a beacon, almost glowing in the dark room.

Scott hesitated for a moment before picking up the picture and examining it. It showed a young man in his mid to late twenties sitting on a light-colored couch. He looked grumpy, staring back at him with dark eyebrows furrowed so low that they nearly met his eyes. His black hair was tousled, and he sported a three-day stubble. Scott would have best described his build as stocky. The light brown eyes had an annoyed expression. The scene was slightly brightened by the fact that he was petting a snow-white German Shepherd that had its snout resting in his lap. Scott didn’t quite understand why this particular image seemed to hold a unique significance, as it revealed nothing about Luke. For a moment, he thought that the young man might be Luke's older brother, but he quickly dismissed that idea. There was neither a real resemblance between them nor was Kate old enough to be his mother. However, the picture must have been of great value to its owner, as it had been placed exactly where he could see it upon waking. Scott turned it around and saw a name engraved on the back: Adriel. Turning the picture back, the werewolf examined the scene for another moment before placing it on the nightstand in the same position as before. This Adriel, Scott assumed that the dog wasn’t named that, must be extremely important to Luke. Maybe he could bring it up with him sometime? In any case, he set about exploring the video game shelf and was pleasantly surprised to find everything from RPGs to shooters, racing games, and sports simulations.

Scott had just picked up a particularly bloody-looking shooter when the door swung open, and Luke appeared with a tray in his hands. He balanced a bowl of potato chips and a bowl of popcorn, along with two glasses and a glass carafe of orange juice.
"Good choice. You can even play that online together. We can try it right away," Luke said enthusiastically, nodding toward the game case. "I hope chips and popcorn are okay for you? Jonathan made some yesterday. The orange juice is freshly squeezed too." With that, he set the tray down on the glass table in front of the sofa and grabbed a controller along with the game case, slid the CD into the console, and nudged Scott onto the couch, handing him the second controller.

After about two hours, during which Scott got to know the advantages of homemade potato chips, realized that he and Luke made a good team in this video game as well (Luke covered him excellently and dealt damage while Scott kept his back safe), and they discussed rather trivial matters, he now dared to approach the subject of getting to know his host a little better. The atmosphere was lively, and the werewolf could practically tell how much the Brit enjoyed his company. He had been smiling the whole time, aside from the outbursts when someone shot him or Scott down. Accordingly, the Alpha proceeded cautiously to avoid ruining the rather pleasant afternoon.

Hey, Luke, can I ask you something?" he began carefully, tossing some popcorn into his mouth.

"Sure. So shooters are my strong suit, as well as FIFA, if that's what you mean," he grinned back at him.

"I hadn't noticed," Scott grinned back, straightening his posture a bit before becoming more serious. "I can't stop thinking about your scar." He observed closely how Luke's cheerful and relaxed expression twisted and darkened with each word.

"Ah yes, the scar, my greatest flaw next to the braces," he sighed, taking a sip from his glass, which he now clasped with both hands. "I assume you'd like to know where I got it?"

Scott confirmed the question with a silent nod and could see Luke wrestling with himself. He seemed to hesitate somehow. That was only natural, but he also seemed to trust the Alpha in some way. Probably, Scott was the first person in Luke's life who was genuinely interested in him and not just his money or successes. Aside from that ominous unknown figure, perhaps. It stung him that he too was not entirely interested in Luke as a person, but he pushed that thought aside for now.

"That's a long story," he began, taking one hand off the glass to run it through his hair. "Are you going to be mad at me if I say that I don't want to talk about it right now?" Luke took a deep breath and looked seriously at Scott. "But I promise you, when the right moment comes, we'll talk about it. Is that enough for you?"

Scott was about to respond when he saw the dejected and painful expression on Luke's face, and for a brief moment, it felt as if he could feel that pain and suffering himself. Then the emotions faded away, and he nodded slightly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you."

"You didn't, Scott. It's just hard to talk about something that has practically shaken my entire life. I often tell myself that it wouldn't change anything, but it has changed everything. When you turn on the TV, you see reports and stories about soulmates who have found each other and are happy, who have experienced true love." The Brit paused and bit his lower lip before continuing. "I somehow envy those people. Despite my abilities, despite all my efforts and my father's money, I am denied the chance to experience that one emotion." Luke paused again and took a sip of his orange juice, avoiding direct eye contact with Scott before seeming to gather himself and continued: "My personal fairy tale will never come true, no matter how hard I try."

"But that's not necessarily true," Scott interjected. "You said just yesterday that the possibility exists, provided your soulmate falls in love with you."

"Of course, if I can believe my grandpa's words. But even if he is right, how am I supposed to find the right one among eight billion people? The odds are astronomically low. Even I can calculate that." Luke's fingers gripped the glass tightly, and the orange liquid sloshed around due to the trembling of his hand. "For me, there is simply no counterpart. I could try, but I would never be completely happy, because a small part of me would always wonder if it would be even better with my soulmate."

The werewolf felt terrible now. Not only had he ruined the good mood, but he had also clearly hurt Luke, albeit unintentionally. He was probably trying to push those thoughts away as best he could, and he had forced him to confront them out of his own mistrust of Gerard. What should he say or do? Then his gaze fell on the England flag, and an idea struck him. "What's that symbol on the flag? That doesn't belong there, does it?" Scott pointed toward the flag, which made Luke look up.

Here’s the translation of your text into English:

"Do you mean the logo of Manchester United?"

"Yeah, I think so?"

"Manchester United is my absolute favorite club. We have a season box at Old Trafford, the home stadium of Manchester United. My big dream would be to be signed as a striker for the club." The Brit's eyes began to shine, and the sadness that had lingered just moments before slowly faded away.

"And who's that underneath? Does he play for Manchester United?" Scott tried, with great success, to distract Luke, who shook his head and laughed.

"No, that's Harry Kane, nicknamed 'the hurricane.' Harry Kane plays for Tottenham Hotspur and is one of the best strikers out there. He also plays for the England national team, and he was the Golden Boot winner at the 2018 World Cup with six goals, even better than Raheem Sterling."

Scott breathed a sigh of relief, feeling a great weight lift from his shoulders as Luke began to recount the accolades of his great idol, how he had cheered for his club as a young boy in the stadium, and how he had won his first school championship with those very soccer shoes. The werewolf even learned why Luke had chosen that particular model, as it bore the name of a Roman god with winged shoes.

"Soccer isn't just a sport; it's a way of life," Luke concluded his lecture and grabbed his glass of orange juice again. "Although that probably applies to sports in general. I mean, I love going cross-country skiing in the winter, sure, but nothing compares to soccer. The feeling when the ball follows your movements, when you can influence it, impose your will on it, dribble past the defense, and make the goalkeeper look foolish, scoring goal after goal while the entire stadium cheers—that's… unique."

That sounds a bit more popular than lacrosse," Scott mumbled.

"It is. Soccer is England's number one national sport." A chuckle escaped Luke's throat as he noticed Scott's slightly depressed expression, who no longer felt like a sports ace but rather like someone playing a third-rate sport and being cheered for out of pity. "Lacrosse is, according to the stories, a tough sport, and I believe it’s at least as exhausting as soccer. But if you get bored and I can convince Grandpa to let me form a team for the school, I would be happy if you joined."

"But I have no experience," Scott protested, which was dismissed by his conversation partner with a wave of his hand.

"You play perfectly alongside me. I've never seen anything like it. Even in my old team, there was no one who matched me so well. You ran when you needed to run, stopped when you should have stopped, passed the ball, accepted my passes—we would be an unbeatable team."

Luke seemed so euphoric that Scott found it hard to refuse him this wish. Sighing inwardly, he agreed that if there ever was a soccer team at Beacon Hills High, he would join. This made his conversation partner even more pleased. The good mood soon spread to the young Alpha, and in no time, the rest of the afternoon had passed. They had completely neglected their homework and the plan to learn more about Luke and his past. Instead, there were several more online sessions in the shooter, and the snacks had all been consumed. It wasn't until Luke's phone rang that the magic and carefree atmosphere came to an end. The Brit, visibly regretful that their time together was already over, at least for today, brought him home, explaining that he had to pick up his grandfather.

The drive home was also not fruitful in terms of gaining useful information about Luke. Scott didn’t really push for it anymore. He felt a bit sorry himself that their afternoon together had passed so quickly. He felt comfortable around Luke, and that unsettled him a little. Not that he was particularly suspicious, and even though he didn’t fully share Stiles’ concerns, it was still strange to get along so well with someone right off the bat.

"Should I pick you up again tomorrow?" Luke asked as Scott got out of the car.

"Tomorrow, Stiles and Derek are picking me up, but how about Wednesday?" the Alpha suggested, which transformed the Brit's initial disappointment into a wide smile.

"Sure. I’ll be back on time. See you tomorrow, Scott!"

"See you tomorrow."

With that, the door closed, and the werewolf made his way to his house, where the kitchen light was already on, as it was getting dark. Tomorrow he would discuss it with Stiles and especially question Allison. It was somehow hard to imagine that this boy could have any ill intentions. Maybe Stiles was wrong with his suspicion after all, and he was being overly cautious? Scott trusted his best friend and had no doubts about his ability to read people, but with every passing second, it became harder for him to suspect anything bad about Luke. If anything, he was merely a victim of circumstances, which in this case meant Gerard Argent. What the young Alpha was already becoming aware of was the fact that this entire situation was starting to overwhelm him. Hopefully, Allison would be able to dispel Stiles' suspicions tomorrow, because otherwise, he might soon find himself in quite a dilemma.

Chapter Text

There had been a slight change of plans: it was not Stiles and Derek who picked Scott up the next morning, but Isaac and Allison. The young Alpha was quite pleased with this arrangement, as he hoped to gain some information from Allison regarding her cousin, and he was also looking forward to seeing her again. The fact that she was now with Isaac did prick at Scott’s heart from time to time, but he had learned to accept it, even though it had been incredibly difficult for him. Allison had been his first girlfriend and his first great love.

As soon as he was in the car with the two of them and had warmly greeted Allison, the conversation quickly turned to Luke. Isaac had already informed his partner about the latest developments, so Scott’s explanations were rather brief.

“That’s what Stiles and I managed to find out,” he concluded his account. Allison had listened to him in silence, although her forehead had furrowed repeatedly. “Stiles said he’s basically like a ghost, which would be normal. Now we were hoping that you, as his cousin, and your dad, as his uncle, could shed some light on the matter.”

“I think I’m going to have to disappoint you,” Allison began, shattering Scott’s hopes of alleviating their collective fears. “There hasn’t been much talk about Luke. I know he exists, and I know Kate’s stance on him.” The latter made Scott sit up and take notice.

“That’s already a start,” Isaac chimed in, taking on the role of the driver.

“She was quite young when she got pregnant with him. There was a custody battle afterward, but only because Gerard insisted on it,” she explained to them.

“What do you mean by that?” Scott asked, slightly confused.

“Kate never really wanted him. She referred to him as the biggest mistake of her life. But Gerard pushed her to go through with it.”

“You mean she wanted to have an abortion?” Scott was horrified. It sounded so cold and heartless, it almost seemed fitting for Kate. He had never seen her as someone you could particularly like, at least not after she had caught on to him. Imagining Kate as a mother had always been difficult anyway.

“Yes,” Allison confirmed, her gaze fixed out of the window. “I caught wind of it back when Dad and she had a conversation about him, and he tried to reach out to her.”

“Reach out?”

“He wrote her letters, sent current photos of himself, copies of his report cards and his sports achievements.” Allison opened her mouth to speak but then closed it again.

“And? What did the letters say?” Isaac shot an encouraging yet slightly concerned glance at his partner.

“I don’t know. Dad never talked to me about it, nor did my mother. There was once a discussion about bringing Luke to live with us, but Gerard was apparently against it. Dad had an argument with Kate about it. She accused him of wanting to improve his financial situation through child support. His father was already quite well-off back then. To be honest, I don’t even know how they met.”

“Do you have any idea why your grandfather was against you bringing him into your home?” Scott asked after a moment of awkward silence.

“I don’t know,” Allison admitted with a shrug.

“According to Luke, he was the only one in your family who visited him and cared for him,” Scott hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath. For some reason, he found it difficult to ask the next question, praying that Allison could provide a satisfying answer. “Do you think he could use him like your grandfather used you back then?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated, her voice soft. “My grandfather doesn’t do anything without a reason. It would make sense.” She bit her lip and turned slightly away from them. It wasn’t until Isaac took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on hers that she looked back.

“You don’t have to be ashamed of anything, Allison. What happened, happened,” the blonde werewolf tried to reassure her, earning a tentative smile in return.

Scott leaned back in the back seat and closed his eyes. He still didn’t feel much wiser. Gerard had ensured that Chris and Victoria didn’t get Luke. Luke adored his grandfather; it was evident. He was completely devoted to him. Then there was the question of whether the Brit was his soulmate or not, and what that meant for him. With that thought came another question.

“Allison? Do you know what Luke’s last name is?” he asked, receiving a confused look in response.

“Why is that important?” she inquired, glancing suspiciously between Scott and Isaac. The blonde werewolf seemed not to have informed his partner about Stiles’ and his suspicions yet. Then her gaze landed on Scott’s upper arm, and she suddenly seemed to understand.

“You think…?” she began, staring at the spot where the initials of Scott’s soulmate were, which were currently covered by the sleeve of his denim jacket. “That should be easy to find out, right?”

That’s the problem. His mark was removed or something. A large scar covers it,” Scott admitted, wishing he could slap himself for revealing Luke’s secret once again. While it was necessary and important, he had broken his promise to the Brit yet again. The image of the shy boy who had trusted him so much flashed before his eyes, and he felt as though he were trampling on that trust. Guilt stirred within the young Alpha, along with a twinge of shame.

“I don’t know. Do you think it’s possible, Scott?” Allison asked, trying to sound gentle as she turned fully towards him.

“I’m not sure. Stiles thinks it might be the case.” Scott shifted uneasily in his seat. “According to your grandfather, it only works if his true soulmate falls in love with Luke. Whether that's a trick or not, I can’t say. Your cousin and I seem to get along well enough, though.”

“They made Jackson, Boyd, and Ethan look old news in gym class the other day, and your cousin is just a regular human. Stiles could very well be right,” Isaac chimed in, keeping his eyes on the road. “The real question is what your grandfather hopes to gain by bringing him into the picture now.”

“Do you think he’s dangerous?” Scott asked quietly.

“Scott, I don’t know.” Allison reached out her hands and awkwardly placed them over Isaac’s, finding it difficult to stretch across the back seat with her seatbelt on. “But if he is your soulmate, then he must be a good person or at least have a good core. Soulmates usually fit together perfectly. If that’s really the case and he’s under Gerard’s influence, then we’ll free him from it.”

The young Alpha gave her a grateful smile and squeezed her hands tightly. This familiar gesture had been exchanged so often between them as a couple that it felt almost surreal when she pulled away from him, only for Isaac to do the same.

“I think you’re all worrying too much. Even if the old man has control over him, what can he really achieve? We’re a pack of werewolves, we have two hunters and a genius on our side, and they’re just two – a teenager and a cripple,” Isaac said as he steered the car into the parking lot in front of the school, right next to Jackson's Porsche, which had been forced to relinquish its usual spot to the now-familiar black Mercedes. Scott decided to save the question about this Adriel for later; he was too caught up in his own thoughts and emotional turmoil. Those feelings intensified as he watched Luke help his grandfather from the car into the wheelchair. A glance at Allison was enough to signal to the werewolf that this sight must be just as difficult for her to witness, albeit for different reasons.

As soon as they got out, Luke had already pushed Gerard over to them in the wheelchair, offering Scott a broad smile while omitting any words of greeting. That task was taken over by the old man, who bestowed an equally wide smile upon his granddaughter, though it seemed rather forced.
“Allison, my girl, you look wonderful,” her grandfather said. “I haven’t seen you in quite a while. Charming as ever.”

Scott was about to say something when he noticed Allison's discomfort, but Isaac was already there, wrapping his arms protectively around his partner. Her expression shifted into a mix of coldness and indifference. “There’s a reason for that,” she replied coolly.

“I know, you young people have other things on your minds than taking care of your grandparents, right?” Gerard tilted his head back and reached for Luke’s hand, which was gripping the wheelchair handle. “But now I have someone else, don’t I, my boy?”

“Of course, Grandpa,” Luke beamed back at him before shifting his gaze to Allison, giving her a similarly warm look. “So you’re my cousin? Nice to meet you – Grandpa has already sung your praises.” With that, he extended his other hand toward her, seemingly ignoring or not wanting to acknowledge her hostile demeanor.

Allison hesitated for a moment before pulling away from Isaac's embrace and taking Luke's offered hand. She studied him closely, and he did the same in return. It was a bit unsettling for both Scott and Isaac to witness the exchange, a palpable discomfort evident on their faces. Only Gerard seemed to relish the moment, a sly glint mixing with his smile.

“So, what has he told you?” Allison briefly shifted her attention to the old man in the wheelchair before turning back to Luke, who had withdrawn his hand and rested it on Gerard's shoulder.

“That you’re an extremely pretty and intelligent girl, and that you’d probably drive half the school mad if you hadn’t already found your soulmate.”

This mention of soulmates caused Luke’s eyebrows to raise slightly, only to furrow again as he tensed up. Scott subtly shook his head, forcing himself to refrain from intervening. For some reason, it pained him to watch Luke treat his grandfather with such affection. It was hard to believe that this man had changed, let alone that he could feel any kind of fondness for his grandson. He hadn’t shown any towards Allison, and she had learned that lesson the hard way.

“So, you must be Isaac? Grandpa has spoken about you too, and I even saw you in action once,” Luke said, looking up at the blonde werewolf with a start, which elicited an additional smug grin from Gerard. “I mean, you never really stood out as a goalkeeper, but I think you would have been ideal for the role.”

Scott let out a relieved breath. That was yet another misinterpretation. Though the young Alpha wasn’t entirely sure. The old Argent had been playing this game for too long, and his evident enjoyment at their concern hadn’t gone unnoticed by any of them.

We would be delighted if you could come and visit us,’” Gerard had resumed, his tone almost jovial. “I haven’t seen you in ages, and Luke would surely love to meet you all outside of school. Why don’t you bring your father along, and we can enjoy a lovely dinner together? The butler is an excellent cook.” His gaze shifted to Scott. “You’re, of course, invited too, Scott. It wouldn’t be the first time we’ve shared a table, now would it?”

Just as Scott was about to respond, another figure joined them: pale with somewhat wild, sticking-up hair, caramel-colored eyes, and a rather thin stature, dotted with a few beauty marks on his face.

“Hey! What’s going on here? The big family reunion or what?” Stiles chimed in, and Scott felt a wave of relief wash over him at his friend’s sudden appearance, as it seemed to unsettle Gerard. The older man glanced at his watch, clearly annoyed.

“I think it’s time for me to head to the office. Until later.”

Luke waved goodbye to Allison, Isaac, and Scott before he turned Gerard around and began to push him toward the entrance of the high school. Four pairs of eyes followed them, and for a moment, silence reigned until Stiles broke it.

“Wow, I’m practically invisible here.” He turned to his friends. “Honestly, Allison, your cousin is a jerk, at least to me.”

“Seems that way,” she replied absently, placing her hands back on Isaac’s, leaning into him for support.

“What’s wrong? Did I do something wrong?” Stiles asked, glancing around at them with a puzzled expression. “You all looked like you needed help.”

“We did,” Scott confirmed, nodding in agreement.

"I have an idea about how we can approach this soulmate situation," Stiles began, pausing briefly to greet Allison. "Scott and Isaac filled you in on the current state of affairs, right?" He received a confirming nod. "Good. I just thought of a way we can find out whether Luke and Gerard are lying or not."
Both Scott and Allison, along with Isaac, looked at Stiles expectantly as he paused dramatically, a wide grin spreading across his face. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie, adopting a triumphant expression.
"I need some details about Luke: his birthday, whether he was born in England or America, the county or state he was born in, and if he has a middle name. The year of birth would be helpful too, but I can narrow that down later."
He was met with more questioning looks, which he shrugged off casually. "One of you should be able to get that information out of him, right? The rest is up to me." He threw an arm around Scott's shoulders. "I think he’d be most inclined to share that with you."
"And then what?" the Alpha asked, perplexed.
"You'll see. The more I know about his birth, the more successful I’ll be at figuring this out." He started walking towards the school, with Scott, Isaac, and Allison in tow. "Then we’ll have certainty."
Stiles sounded so convinced that Scott almost believed his best friend could crack this mystery. How he planned to do it was still a puzzle, but the thought of finally knowing whether Luke was the person he had been waiting for made his heart race. It was more crucial than ever to free him from Gerard's influence. No one deserved to be manipulated by that monstrous man, least of all his potential soulmate.

Chapter Text

The first two hours were once again filled with a sports session led by Coach Finstock, who felt compelled to announce an orienteering event that would take place on Friday. For everyone on the lacrosse team, participation was mandatory, while the rest were free to choose. The prospect of a school-free day, combined with a potential prize for the winner, drew in a large crowd.

"I warn you, though: this orienteering challenge is no joke; it will test you both physically and mentally, and will demand everything from you," the coach proclaimed proudly, earning a series of confused expressions in return.

"Mental?" Stiles asked incredulously. "Mental as in nerve-wracking mental or intellectually challenging mental?"

"Yes, I've teamed up with the history and geography teachers, and you'll need to prove yourselves in those areas to come out on top. The registration form is posted on the bulletin board by the entrance. No further questions are allowed. You should also start considering a partner, as this will be a pair competition. Now, get changed; we're going to try our hand at indoor hockey today—a great complement to lacrosse." With that, the coach proudly raised his chin and exited the boys' locker room.

"Sounds like another thoughtless and ridiculous plan to me," Stilinski junior commented on their teacher's departure while changing.

"Hm? Sure," Scott murmured absentmindedly.

"Earth to Scott—we're going to have to compete in an orienteering event on Friday. What’s going on with you? You had that same look on your face last time when Allison sat down in front of you." Stiles waved his hand in front of his best friend's face.

"Nothing," Scott replied, blinking several times. That was only half the truth. The situation with the Argent family was weighing on his mind. There had been something in Gerard's expression that unsettled him. The cold, calculating glint in his eyes as he watched Luke and Allison shake hands—it troubled him.

“You're a terrible liar, you know that, right?” Stiles shot him a disapproving look. “What's bothering you? Is it because of this soulmate business? I'm next in line as soon as you give me the information I need.”

“I’ll try,” Scott replied curtly, diverting his gaze to Luke, who had already changed. The werewolf couldn’t quite make sense of the situation. Something felt different today, but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was. He shook his head, trying to push the thought away and focus on the sports session.

The teams were chosen again, with Scott and Jackson taking charge of selecting their respective teammates as per the coach's request. For tactical rivalry reasons, Luke was automatically assigned to the young Alpha’s team. This meant that Isaac, Aiden, Stiles, and Luke were on one side, while they faced off against Jackson, Danny, and Ethan. Boyd was absent today, which wasn’t unusual for him; he had skipped school several times before, just like Erica, to spend time together. But according to Stiles, he hadn’t even informed Derek. He was probably holed up somewhere with his soulmate while they had to toil here.

“Okay, since it worked so well last time, I suggest Scott and Luke go up front again, Aiden and Isaac defend, and I’ll be in goal this time,” Stiles laid out their formation, which was unanimously approved. “Even our rich boy is okay with that?” the sheriff's son asked in surprise. “Wow.”

“I’m being put in the right position; why would I complain?” Luke countered with a raised eyebrow.

The budding discussion was cut short by the coach bellowing at them to stop their chatter and take their positions. Stiles shot Scott a look that clearly said, “What a jerk,” which was met with a sheepish shrug before they got started.

“Such a stupid sport,” Luke muttered quietly as he tied the sticks together and leaned them against the wall. Scott chuckled, shaking his head in agreement.

“I mean, it’s not really the most graceful game, is it? But it can be fun when you get into it,” Scott replied, trying to lighten the mood. He could see that Luke was still a bit frustrated from the match, despite their solid performance.

“Fun? Sure. If you enjoy running around like a headless chicken while trying not to get hit by a ball that could knock you out,” Luke shot back, but there was a hint of a smile playing at the corners of his lips.

“Hey, at least we didn’t lose,” Scott pointed out, trying to encourage him. “And you did great out there. I mean, look at how well we worked together. I think we’ve got a real shot at this.”

Luke shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, well, it’s not like I’m competing for a medal or anything. Just trying to have some fun.”

Scott could sense the underlying tension in Luke's voice. “You know, it’s okay to care about winning. It shows you’re passionate about what you do,” he said, hoping to reach him. “I’ve seen how hard you train. You’re not just doing this for the sake of it.”

Luke paused, his expression softening. “Maybe you’re right. I just… I don’t want to let anyone down, you know? Especially not my teammates.”

Scott nodded, understanding the weight of that sentiment. “You won’t. We’re all in this together. You’re not alone in this, Luke.”

They shared a moment of silence, a brief understanding passing between them. Just then, Stiles burst into the gym, interrupting their conversation.

“Hey! You two lovebirds! What’s taking so long? The bell’s about to ring!” he called out, grinning mischievously. “Don’t tell me you were getting all mushy in here!”

“Shut up, Stiles,” Scott retorted, rolling his eyes, but he couldn’t help but smile at his friend’s antics. Luke chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s get out of here before he starts charging us for therapy sessions,” Luke joked as they gathered their things.

As they made their way out of the gym, Scott felt a sense of camaraderie with Luke that was growing stronger. The day had been exhausting, but it had also brought them closer together. Despite the challenges ahead, he couldn’t shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something significant.

“Did you hold your own out there?” Scott said gently. “That was a good performance.” It was indeed a small miracle to be able to stand up to two werewolves for any length of time.

“I didn’t, because otherwise we would have won. A draw feels like a loss,” the Brit huffed, carrying the two goals over to the sticks. “But what can you expect from an idiot who teaches business and sports at a public school and probably went to the cheapest university because his pathetic income couldn’t afford anything more? Of course, he has to resort to third-rate sports.”

Scott was about to respond when he felt his pulse quicken. It was racing, and with every passing second, he found it harder to concentrate. The last time he had felt like this was just before his first transformation. Suddenly, it dawned on him that it might actually happen again. He glanced down at his fingertips, which were already showing the faintest hints of claws peeking out. Panic gripped him. The door was too far away, and Luke was approaching him. He couldn’t hear what he was saying; all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. If he accidentally injured himself with the claws, it would give him away, just like the red eyes and the fangs. He quickly looked down and tried to calm himself, but it was proving impossible. What was happening to him? He breathed in and out heavily, feeling the control slipping away. Scott was a danger to the person in front of him. He was prevented from fleeing when he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulders. Luke must have placed his hands there. Any moment now, he would expose him, or the werewolf would spring at him. He was losing nearly all control over his body. When he felt fingers on his chin attempting to lift it, it was too late.

With a sudden jerk, his head shot up. In a final act of desperation, he closed his eyes, bracing himself for the moment he would tear Luke apart. He would become the monster he despised so much, something like Peter. The Brit would scream, alerting everyone outside and branding him a murderer, giving Gerard another reason to hunt him down. A growl escaped his throat, barely audible, but instead of the expected screams of pain, the feeling of blood on his hands and in his mouth, he sensed something different: a comforting warmth settling on his lips. The smell of sweat and Luke’s unique scent filled his nostrils as his arms moved almost of their own accord. He could feel Luke’s body tense under his touch.

Only when he felt something brush through his hair did he dare to look again, and suddenly it dawned on him what he was doing. As soon as he realised, his eyes flew open: he was holding Luke in an embrace and kissing him. Not only that; his counterpart was returning the kiss, the tension seemingly melting away from him. With his left hand, he clutched at Scott’s T-shirt, while the fingers of his right rested on the back of his head. Contrary to all expectations, the surprise and confusion that had overwhelmed the young Alpha, he didn’t end the kiss. His body prevented him from doing so, as did his mind, because the sight of Luke, his fluttering eyes, his wild heartbeat, the feel of his fingers in Scott's hair, his scent, and the taste of his lips made him forget everything around him. An eternity later, the Brit pulled away from him and shot him a questioning look.

“What was that for?” His voice had involuntarily risen an octave, which he corrected with a cough.

“I… no idea,” the werewolf admitted.

“I quite like the idea of having no idea in this case,” Luke smiled, his pale cheeks burning with embarrassment. “Very much so.”

Scott wanted to pull away from Luke, to apologise, to come up with some excuse, but he couldn’t; it was as if a switch had flipped in his head, as if rational thought had ceased and made way for his feelings. That kiss had been more beautiful than any he had shared with Allison. He had even wrapped his arms a little tighter around Luke. In that moment, Luke appeared remarkably vulnerable and shy. It was almost as if he wanted to nestle closer to Scott.

“I… I’m sorry,” Scott stammered awkwardly.

“What are you sorry for?” Luke asked.

“For kissing you.”

A chuckle escaped Luke's throat as he shook his head in amusement. “Did you really think I wouldn’t have enjoyed it?”

The werewolf blinked, surprised by the realisation that, in fact, he hadn’t disliked it at all; on the contrary, Luke had returned the kiss. His hands had now wandered to Scott's chest, resting perfectly against the Alpha's muscles.

“No?” Scott asked cautiously.

“Correct. It was unexpected, and I was worried the braces would get in the way, but…” Luke shifted a little closer to Scott. “You kiss surprisingly well.” He leaned in again, his lips almost brushing against Scott’s, when a loud crash at the door startled them both apart.

“What are you two doing?” Stiles shot them a suspicious look.

Scott opened his mouth to respond, but Luke’s brow had already furrowed in anger. His expression darkened as he marched angrily towards Stiles.

“Have you ever heard of privacy, you idiot?” he snapped, his cheeks still flushed.

“This is a gymnasium in a high school; you’re not going to find much privacy here,” countered the sheriff's son.

“Were you watching us?” Luke stopped just short of Stiles, his hands clenched into fists. “Did it give you a thrill? Is this some sick perversion of yours? Voyeurism? Do you spy on other rooms with binoculars because it turns you on to watch others?”

“No, especially not when it involves my best friend,” Stiles replied calmly. “That was pure coincidence, and my question seems to have been answered.” The smirk on his best friend’s face was practically audible. “You’re pretty easy to rile up. Nervous? The red on your cheeks suits you; it gives you a touch of humanity, Richboy.”

Luke pressed his lips together into a bloodless line, and for a moment it seemed as though he was going to punch Stiles in the face. Then he slightly shook his head and took a deep breath. His grey-green eyes flicked to Scott before he simply turned away, leaving the two of them alone.

"Wow, what was that all about?" said Scott's best friend, joining him. "Your new lover seems to have some serious anger issues. I bet if you hadn't been watching, I would have been able to cash in a free ticket to the hospital right about now."

"I… I have no idea, Stiles. Just now, I felt like I was about to lose control and transform," Scott mumbled, running a hand through his hair and staring at the spot where Luke had just stood.

"Ah, and then it occurred to you to stick your tongue down his throat?" Stiles sounded sceptical, as well as concerned. "That's not normal. Well, unless we’re right with our assumption. Derek behaved the same way towards me at first." A grin appeared on Stilinski Junior's face. "That also explains why he’s nice to you while treating everyone else like air."

"That's not funny," Scott snapped, rubbing his temples.

"A little bit is, Scott." Stiles patted him on the back. "Hey, look at it this way: soon in your room, there’ll probably be a brand new laptop, a massive television, and a matching games console. Maybe you can even say goodbye to your mum's car or get a chauffeur, huh?"

"Oh, just leave me alone," the werewolf sighed, taking a moment to process what his best friend had just said. "Aside from the fact that I don’t want his money. Besides, you should be worried. You were just yesterday, weren't you?"

"Did you see how shy he was? And how embarrassed he felt that I caught you two?"

"I feel that way too," the Alpha huffed, slightly indignant.

"Yeah, but that means he's similar to you, and you can probably have a significant influence on him. That reassures me a bit. So the rich boy with the psychopathic grandfather is just an ordinary mortal after all." Stiles' grin widened. "Can I be your best man?"

"Shut up," Scott grumbled, a faint grin creeping onto his face.

"What do my human eyes see? Is that a hint of self-satisfaction? It happens so quickly. It reminds me of Derek and me when we couldn't stand each other at first."

"Maybe you were wrong after all?"

"Didn’t look that way." Stiles wrapped his arm around Scott's shoulders again. "Was he good?"

"What?"

"Was he good at kissing?"

"Why don’t you kiss him yourself if you want to find out?"

“Ugh, rather not,” Stiles said, touching his nose and then bursting into a hearty laugh. “My cute little button nose is too pretty to risk altering for free. Come on, go change; you smell like half the junior team after lacrosse practice. Then we’ll see what your new admirer is made of.”

“He’s not my admirer!” Scott firmly rejected the implication.

“Bet he’d like to be!”

“Just be quiet.”

Stiles made an exaggerated gesture of sealing his mouth and dramatically tossed away an imaginary key, only to attempt another friendly jab five seconds later, which Scott half-heartedly returned. Could it really be? Why had Luke lied then? Did he know about the mark on Scott’s arm? Of course he had seen it. Yet he hadn’t told him the truth? Was that even certain? The young Alpha didn’t know where his head was at. All he could remember was the shy, braces-clad grin and the feeling of Luke’s hands on his skin, resting just above his heart, tightening slightly with each beat. Either he was about to go crazy, or Stiles was right. Still, that brought a whole new set of problems, and how he wanted to resolve them was still up in the air.

Chapter Text

The classroom had filled up for the next lesson, except for two seats: Luke and Boyd. The absence of the former was surprising, and a freshly showered Scott honestly felt a bit worried. Those worries shifted to nervousness when the young Alpha was called over the loudspeaker to the principal's office. That couldn't mean anything good. Amidst the partially confused and partially concerned looks (the latter primarily belonging to Allison, Isaac, and Stiles), Scott made his way.

The hallways were deserted. Although the werewolf could hear plenty thanks to his supernatural senses—the sound of chalk on boards, notebooks being opened, as well as voices, whispers, murmurs, and even Stiles' words telling him to be careful and to let him know if something went wrong—none of it calmed him much. He felt alone, had no idea what Gerard wanted with him, and where Luke was. What if something had happened to him? Why was he even worrying about that? Why had he kissed him? Why had Luke lied? These questions faded away in that moment of tension as he arrived at Gerard's office door and wrapped his fingers around the doorknob. He knocked and then heard the familiar "Come in."

Scott furrowed his brows and stepped inside.

Luke was leaning against the principal's desk, arms crossed over his chest in a black hoodie, his legs crossed in dark jeans that hugged his grey-black sneakers with white soles. There was no trace of his grandfather. His grey-green eyes rested on Scott, wearing an expression that was hard to interpret.

"Close the door," he instructed.

Was this a trap? Were hunters lying in wait for Scott somewhere? Would Luke go that far? Could he even do that? Was he in on Gerard's schemes? The young Alpha listened for a moment but heard no unusual sounds, so he decided to comply with the request. As soon as he did, Luke nodded towards one of the chairs, which Scott had all too often found himself sitting in.

"What’s going on?" the werewolf asked as he settled into the seat.

"You have a free period," the Brit explained. "Grandpa won’t be here until 10:30, which means we’re alone." Luke fidgeted with his toes, his gaze still fixed on Scott. In his eyes, there was a mix of curiosity, warmth, and also concern. For a brief moment, the vulnerable boy from earlier flashed through, the one who had practically nestled into the werewolf's arms, before disappearing behind a mask of seriousness and reserve.

"If this is about the kiss earlier…" Scott began, but was immediately interrupted.

"Yes, it does," Luke confirmed with a nod. "Before you say anything, Scott, I need to know something, alright?" He pushed his lower lip out and chewed on it for a moment before taking a deep breath and straightening his posture, still leaning against the principal's desk. "Was that a one-time thing?"

The young Alpha blinked, taken aback. He had anticipated many reactions—perhaps Luke would shout at him like Stiles had, demand an apology, set boundaries, or even threaten him with legal action for sexual harassment—but not this.

"I… what?" Scott stammered, completely flabbergasted.

Luke rolled his eyes, his heartbeat quickening. His expression eerily resembled Kate's when she had almost caught him with the iron-bulb cartridge. The werewolf remembered that interrogation all too well.

"I want to know if that was a one-time thing, Scott." There was a trace of uncertainty in the Brit's voice, though he masked it well.

That was a question he couldn't answer, no matter how hard he tried. Was that it? Did he want to kiss him again? The thought sent a pleasant shiver through Scott. The idea of holding Luke in his arms, their lips meeting once more, him running his fingers through the Brit's hair while his classmate nestled against him, made him shudder. He stared at his knees, deep in thought. His heart, his feelings, and even the hope that Stiles' assumption might be true all pointed to a 'no', that it wasn't just a one-time thing, but his mind urged him otherwise. The werewolf had no idea how much Luke knew and whether this was part of one of Gerard's sinister plans.

"I hope not," Luke broke the uncomfortable silence, causing Scott to look up in surprise. The Brit's features softened, gentler now, with a glimmer of infatuation or love, depending on how one chose to interpret it. Everything that had reminded Scott of Kate earlier was erased in that moment. "If I'm honest…," he began, his voice growing quieter as he started fiddling with his fingertips, his heartbeat quickening even more, "I hope you want to kiss me again right now."

Scott's insides twisted as he realized what Luke had just said. His brain screamed at him not to give in to this desire, that it could be a trap, one of Gerard's twisted games, but then he remembered Stiles' words about how vulnerable Luke had seemed. He looked vulnerable now, too. Defying all rules of reason, the werewolf stood up and took a step towards the Brit, who looked up at him. Before Luke could react, he was kissed again, gently and tenderly. It felt good, and Scott knew Luke felt the same, even without the relieved sigh that escaped his throat. Yes, Scott wanted to kiss him! He wanted to feel those long, slender fingers on his chest again, gripping his shirt, hear the quickening heartbeat, taste those soft lips—his whole body craved it. And his wish was granted.

Luke leaned forward in the kiss, placing his fingers on Scott's cheeks and gently stroking them, holding him close as he pulled him nearer. He shifted his position slightly, sitting on the desk while maintaining their connection.

Scott's hands glided instinctively along Luke's back, resting in the lower part and pulling him even closer. With each passing second of this intimate moment, Luke's cheeks burned brighter, practically glowing. Even the braces he had worried about earlier didn’t get in the way. For Scott, there was nothing else in the world but the boy in his arms, pressing against him as if afraid of losing him.

Reluctantly, Luke broke the kiss, a smile spreading across his face. Scott could feel the warmth of his breath on his skin, sending shivers down his spine. “I think I know what my nectar and ambrosia would taste like if I were at Camp Half-Blood,” the Brit whispered.

“What?” Scott chuckled softly. “What are you talking about?”

“That I’ve never tasted anything as wonderful as your lips,” Luke admitted, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice. “Ambrosia and nectar heal the wounds of demigods and have the flavor of the user’s favorite food and drink. I used to think it was Jonathan's cocoa that he makes for me every morning, paired with pomegranate puree.” Luke's smile widened a bit. “That’s not true—it would taste like your lips.”

Before Scott could respond, he was kissed again. He surrendered to his body's instincts, completely shutting out his thoughts. In that single moment, there was only Luke and him. No questions about his birthday, his birth certificate, or whether he knew anything about Gerard—nothing. The werewolf focused solely on the sensations that threatened to overwhelm him.

Luke's right hand rested on the back of Scott's head, while he spread his legs apart just enough for the Alpha to move closer. What had started as an innocent kiss transformed into a second, then a third. Each touch felt like a small jolt of electricity coursing through him.

They savoured each kiss, breaking apart only to catch their breath before diving back into the rhythm. Luke brushed his lips along Scott's right cheek, over the mole on his chin, and down to his neck, which was now being tenderly kissed. Each individual kiss burned against his skin, and Scott couldn't suppress the soft sound that escaped him, especially as Luke's free hand slipped under his shirt.

“Better than cocoa with goat's milk, whipped cream, and a drizzle of caramel,” Luke murmured into his ear. “Better than the first time I hit three hundred in the Mercedes,” he continued, lingering on Scott's neck for a moment longer. “Better than my first trophy win.” With that, Luke pulled back slightly, gazing dreamily into Scott's eyes.

“Was that a compliment?” Scott asked, a soft chuckle escaping his lips.

“Of course,” Luke confirmed quickly. “Every single one.” He withdrew just enough to grasp one of Scott's hands, intertwining their fingers. Contrary to what the werewolf might have expected, he felt no urge to pull away; instead, he instinctively ran his thumb over the back of Luke's hand.

"Scott, I… well, I'm not really good at these things, and to be honest, I don't really know how to do this, but… would you maybe like to go out for dinner with me? I mean, not using the voucher, not because I owe you, but because…" The Brit stumbled over his words, his eyes dropping in embarrassment, which made him look incredibly sweet.

"Yes, I would love to," Scott gently preempted the answer. "Very much."

"Are you sure? I mean, you don't have to, out of pity or anything." Luke cautiously looked up, clearing his throat awkwardly.

"Not out of pity," the werewolf corrected him, running his fingers through Luke's hair. "I kind of like you, and you like me too, right?"

"Seems that way, huh?" his counterpart grinned suddenly, trailing his fingers along Scott's neck. "This is going to leave quite a hickey."

"Oh damn," Scott huffed, rubbing at the spot with the back of his hand. "I just came from a meeting with the principal, great." He was about to get annoyed when he realized that the hickey would probably disappear in a matter of moments. Getting that tattoo and having it visible on his skin had been excruciatingly painful. A hickey would likely fade in a similar way. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about that, even if it might make him look suspicious in front of Luke.

"Maybe you did it during a free period?" the Brit teased, earning a mildly annoyed look from Scott. "How about Chinese food? Tomorrow? After the orientation run?"

The Alpha pondered for a moment. What was the harm in going out with the boy who clearly had feelings for him? It wasn't as if he didn't feel the same way. This would be his first date with a guy, but what was there to lose? Being near Luke made him feel lighter, more carefree, and relaxed. Plus, he wasn't in danger of transforming right now, which meant he could keep an eye on him.

"Agreed, but only if we eat at the local Chinese place and I get proper cutlery," Scott replied.

Luke laughed and stole another quick kiss before sliding off the desk and clearing his throat. "You've got about ten minutes until class. I'll show up again after the break, claiming Grandpa needed us both for some football team nonsense."

At the mention of Gerard, Scott's mood shifted slightly. "Won't that raise any suspicion? I mean, if he’s not even here yet? How did you even get the keys?"

"I had a spare key made in case something happened with Grandpa. It’s not exactly legal to misuse it, but where there’s no complainant, there’s no judge. Besides, he could have had something else to take care of. Let that be my concern." Luke moved toward the door, cracking it open to peek outside. "Just do me a favour and don’t mention any of this to Grandpa, okay? I already feel guilty about it."

"Sure," Scott assured him, tilting his head slightly.

"I think the coast is clear. See you later!" With that, Luke gently nudged Scott toward the door, not without brushing his fingers over Scott's right hand one last time. The werewolf made his way back to class, stopping briefly at the boys' restroom to ensure that the hickey was indeed gone.

It was an incredibly strange day, if he was being honest. He liked Luke—that much was now clear—and it seemed that the Brit felt the same way. They had a sort of date planned for tomorrow, and they had just kissed in the principal's office. No one would believe him. The look of infatuation on Luke's face had burned itself into his mind, making him smile as he returned to the classroom, where he was met with stares as if he had been hit by a bus. Stiles, Isaac, and Allison exchanged questioning glances, which he dismissed with a casual wave of his hand. For the remaining minutes, the young werewolf's gaze lingered on the empty seat where Luke usually sat. Yes, he was definitely smitten, and with the grandson of the man who probably wanted to kill him. Stiles would surely notice a pattern in that, without a doubt. With an internal sigh, the Alpha braced himself for a barrage of questions. A lovely lunch break awaited him.

Chapter Text

Stiles had sneaked away during the lunch break. The history lesson had been enough for him to learn what he needed to know. By now, the sheriff's son was pretty sure that Luke was indeed Scott's soulmate. He was happy for his best friend; after all, Scott's sad puppy eyes could make even stones weep. He and Melissa had often discussed how they could help him look positively towards the future after Scott and Allison had broken up. They had racked their brains, constantly encouraging him, distracting him, but it was simply difficult to take someone's heartache away when they were forced to be surrounded by functioning relationships day after day.

There had been something in Luke's gaze that had made him doubt. Stiles still considered the rich boy potentially dangerous, and he was exposed to Gerard's influence daily, but that brief moment when he had been able to observe them had been enough to give him hope. The Brit was practically putty in the Alpha's hands. He couldn't be acting. He loved Scott too; that much Stiles was convinced of. Not even Gerard could plan something like that in advance. Of course, he was also aware that Luke wanted to gain some advantage from this connection. Stiles wanted to be prepared for that, even if he didn't yet know how.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost walked past the stairs to the heating cellar. He glanced around furtively to make sure no one had seen him before he descended and turned the handle to enter. No one thought to come here during lunch; it was the perfect place to meet someone in peace. That someone was already waiting for him and immediately leapt into his arms, embracing him fervently.

"Someone missed me," Derek laughed, catching Stiles.

"I always miss you, babe, you know that," Stiles grinned.

A long and passionate kiss followed between the two before they pulled away and settled on one of the countless boxes that the janitor had apparently left untouched out of sheer laziness. Stiles cheekily positioned himself on Derek's lap, entwining their hands together and leaning against the werewolf. It wasn't the most romantic spot, nor the coziest, but they were undisturbed here, and that was what mattered most.

"Have you been able to find out anything about this Luke?" Derek inquired, gently stroking Stiles' thighs.

"Not yet. But I'm pretty sure by now that he is Scott's soulmate," Stiles stated, placing his hands atop the Alpha's. In these moments, it was so hard to imagine that they could transform into murder weapons. As tender and gentle as they touched him, sending shivers through his jeans, it was almost grotesque to picture how easily they could snap a neck.

"Why? Did something else happen?" Derek's voice held a hint of concern that probably would have gone unnoticed by anyone who didn't know him as well as Stiles did.

"They were apparently making out in Gerard's office," his partner replied.

"While the old man was in the office?" The werewolf sounded slightly shocked.

"No, he apparently has a spare key and used it for a little rendezvous." Stiles sighed quietly and leaned against Derek, burying his face in the crook of his neck. "You know, I really want Scott to be happy. This Luke seems, objectively speaking, to be quite a catch: good-looking, athletic, intelligent, and he has money to burn."

"Should I be worried?" Derek smirked, then leaned in to gently kiss Stiles on the cheek before nuzzling against him and ultimately just holding him tightly.

"I'm not into guys who look like Kate when they're angry," the sheriff's son countered dryly, then closed his eyes, visibly enjoying the closeness with his friend. "That's not it, Derek. I'm even sure that Luke genuinely loves Scott. There's something in his gaze that I can't quite put my finger on, but it gives me hope that he might let himself be used as Gerard's pawn far less than we assume."

"That sounds somewhat positive? Why are you so worried then? Don't even try to lie, Stiles, I know you better than you know yourself," came Derek's quiet response, accompanied by a question.

"You can hear the grass growing, babe." Stiles shifted a little on Derek's comfortable and warm lap, which felt like it was made just for him, before continuing, "He lied; I'm sure of it."

"About the surname thing?"

"Yeah," came the terse confirmation. "You know, I just don't want Scott to go through another disappointment. Even if he hasn't fully realised it yet, he belongs with Luke and vice versa. I'm just scared that Gerard could exploit this connection. What if Scott gets lost in it? What if he has to make a choice? What then?"

"That's not your decision to make, Stiles," Derek whispered in his ear. "Scott will do the right thing; he always does."

"So now you're turning your back on me too?" Stiles lamented.

"No, but I think Scott won't choose him. You two are like brothers, and you've known each other longer than those two. You were a team when we didn't even know about Luke, and you'll still be a team when he’s no longer around, no matter what happens."

Stiles could feel Derek's warm breath on his neck, sending shivers down his spine. No two seconds later, soft lips were gently kissing him there, making him sigh quietly.

"At the wedding, you'll be Scott's flower girl, right?" he teased, relishing this moment of intimacy.

Derek was wrong; he knew that himself. Nothing was as strong as the bond between two soulmates, and even though Scott was an extraordinary werewolf, a true alpha, thus holding a special position, not even he could rebel against this connection. If it truly came down to it, Stiles would lose his best friend, and that tore him apart inside. But there was nothing he could do about it. Sabotaging the relationship—if one could even call it that at this stage—would change nothing. It would only drive a wedge between Scott and himself even faster. Although he tried not to show it, Stiles was still worried. He simply couldn’t think of a way to positively influence the whole situation.

Luke didn’t like him; he was aware of that. He wouldn’t listen to him either. Probably only Gerard and Scott had access to him. The former was a manipulative pig, and the latter was too infatuated to think rationally. He had already let the information-gathering slide. That wasn’t a good sign. He was left with this clichéd image of an angel and a devil sitting on the protagonist’s shoulders, telling him what to do, only both were mute miniature versions of himself, for they didn’t even know which course of action was right.

“Stiles,” Derek broke him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to carry this burden alone; you have me and the others. We won’t let Scott go, I promise you that. If necessary, we’ll pull his mate out of this destructive environment.”

“And you think it’s that simple?” Stiles let out a humourless laugh, his eyes still closed. “No one can just switch off years of manipulation like that. He’s not a machine where you can just flip a switch, and I’m not a psychiatrist who could eventually find that switch.”

“You can’t do it, I can’t do it, but maybe together we can. But Scott can surely do it.” Derek rested his chin on Stiles’ head and pulled him closer. “You’ve said it yourself: only someone with a heart as good as Scott’s can be his mate. Don’t you think that Luke has a soft side?”

“I think he’s too fixated on his grandfather.” Stiles snuggled a bit closer to his mate, inhaling the natural scent that was barely masked by his weak aftershave. “And maybe they fall under the motto ‘opposites attract’?”

“Then you can’t change that.” Derek released Stiles, turning him around on his lap. “Look at me.”

Stiles followed the command and met green eyes that locked onto him firmly. The alpha appeared determined and convinced. His voice and expression held not the slightest hint of doubt.

“I promise you that I will do everything in my power to prevent this scenario. No matter the cost.”

“And how do you plan to do that? Do you want to take him out or something?”

"If necessary." Derek placed his index finger on Stiles' lips and shook his head. "No one is going to hurt you like that. I’m your mate, and I’ll look after you just as you look after me. We’re a team, and I’m ready to do whatever it takes to protect you."

Stiles let out a quiet sigh and managed to force a smile. The alpha could be so sweet when he wanted to be. They often bickered, but in moments like these, he knew he had the best mate in the world. He deliberately pushed aside the fact that Derek had just considered doing something to Luke; it wouldn't come to that anyway.

"I'll manage," Stilinski junior said after gently pushing the annoying finger aside. "Have there been any updates from Boyd and Erica? Allison mentioned they didn't show up for gym class either."

"No," Derek replied, concern giving way to determination. "I've already checked the usual places, like the ice rink and the old estate, but they’re not there. There’s no indication they’ve been there."

"Should I gather the others and we can…," Stiles began, but was immediately interrupted.

"No, that's my responsibility. I'm their alpha, and I've already nearly messed it up once." Derek sounded quite stern and harsh. He tolerated no arguments, but he was barking up the wrong tree with his mate.

"Even an alpha can afford to ask for help," Stiles chided him, covering the werewolf's mouth with his hand. "If you haven't tracked them down by tonight, I'll let the others know. This isn't just about your pack; it’s about our friends too."

Contrary to Stiles' expectation, there was no foolish comment; instead, he was kissed again. Derek’s left hand supported him at the back while his right moved to Stiles' neck, fingers tangling in his hair. The kiss was quickly reciprocated and soon transformed into something far less innocent than initially intended. Tongues joined their lips, and Stiles clung to Derek's shoulders, demanding more from his mate.

One kiss followed another, and a third soon after. More would likely have happened, as Derek's physical reaction to their actions was unmistakable, if not for the alarm from Stiles' smartphone going off. A sign that the lunch break was about to end. With a sigh, they pulled away from each other, and Stiles tidied his hair a bit so it didn’t look completely tousled.

"I'll pick you up after school, okay? Then we can search together. What should I bring you?" the werewolf asked, lifting his mate off his lap.

“Could you possibly stop by the Italian place?” Stiles combined his question with the classic puppy dog look, a skill not only mastered by Scott.

“Of course.” Derek stole one last kiss before firmly squeezing Stiles’ hand and gently pushing him towards the door. “If you’re late, it’ll draw attention, and I don’t want our hideout to be discovered, just as I don’t want Scott’s new friend knowing too much about us.”

“I’ll be careful,” assured the sheriff’s son, reluctantly breaking the contact with his mate completely. “See you later, babe. I love you.”

“I love you too, Stiles,” Derek smiled.

As Stiles stepped outside, he felt the familiar ache of loneliness wash over him. An uncomfortable emptiness spread within him, and he already longed for Derek’s presence again. But it would be two long hours until he could see him once more. On tiptoes, he crept up the stairs, peeking around the corner to ensure no one could see him, and then made his way to the classroom. His grumbling stomach made itself known, but he ignored it; this brief moment of togetherness was worth any hunger pangs.

Chapter Text

Scott was sitting at a table in the cafeteria with Luke, while Allison and Isaac faced them. As was the case yesterday, the werewolf was allowed to help himself to his neighbour's lunch, which today consisted of several containers adorned with familiar motifs, including Vegeta, Iron Man, and others. There were spring rolls, wonton soup, and for dessert, two pieces of cold pancakes filled with dates. A brief compliment was given about the thermos for the soup before Luke offered Scott half of his portion, all the while under Isaac's sceptical yet longing gaze, while Allison poked irritably at her overcooked mashed potatoes.

Luke grabbed his chopsticks and was already digging into his meal when Scott at least relinquished his spring rolls to his friends, their faces lighting up in delight. Under the table, the Alpha noticed how his and Luke's toes briefly touched, which brought a faint smile to his lips. It was certainly quite strange, but he could no longer deny the natural attraction that existed between them.

"How come we have to make do with this slop while you practically bring your own lunch menu?" Isaac grumbled, devouring the spring roll in three bites.

"Jonathan warned me that the lunch at public schools could be inedible, so I prepared in advance." Luke washed down a mouthful of wonton with a sip of tea from his Spider-Man thermos.

"Jonathan is who?" The blonde werewolf regarded him with a slightly confused expression.

"My butler." The Brit glanced over at Scott, who had yet to touch his food. "What's the matter? Is it not to your taste? Should I have Jonathan prepare something else for tomorrow? I was actually going to order Kung Pao, which is chicken with bell peppers and vegetables, and for dessert, fried bananas in honey batter."

"No, I…" The Alpha sighed softly and stared into his bowl of soup. He felt guilty only towards Allison and Isaac. Stiles' words still echoed in his mind. If Luke was indeed in love with him, as he strongly suspected, then it could happen that the Brit would shower him with gifts. But he didn't want that. However, his grumbling stomach seemed to suggest otherwise.

“Just relax,” Allison’s voice pulled him from his thoughts. She gave him a gentle smile, pushing her second spring roll towards her partner, who hesitated for a moment before devouring it.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’ve only got that…” Scott nodded towards the unidentifiable mass on her plate.

“Absolutely sure,” she confirmed.

The renewed growl of his stomach finally prompted the werewolf to dig into his lunch as well, which tasted exquisite once again. It was nothing compared to the school kitchen food. This wonton, or whatever Luke had called it, was delicious. The soup complemented the flavours perfectly. A true delight for the palate, as Stiles would describe the dish. He had apologised. He was probably off meeting Derek.

“How come you can afford all this?” Isaac asked, now turning to tackle his actual lunch, appearing slightly disgruntled with his first bite.

“My father made a fortune developing weapons. Scott’s friend can explain it better; I’m not so well-versed in that. Where is he anyway?” Luke looked up from his soup towards Scott.

“He’s got something to take care of,” the werewolf replied, deliberately vague, his guilt resurfacing for withholding the truth from Luke.

Isaac and the Brit engaged in an in-depth discussion about the Mercedes, as well as the advantages of having a personal butler, while Allison and Scott exchanged casual glances. The whole situation was simply too grotesque. Out of nowhere, Kate’s son had appeared, turning his head around just as much as he did to the Alpha, behaving submissively towards him, as well as to Allison and Isaac, with whom he interacted casually and normally, while he showed almost everyone else the cold shoulder.

“Are you the same age as Allison or younger?” Isaac asked, earning a stern look from Allison. She subtly shook her head.

Scott held his breath a little, anticipating that Luke would shut down the question, after all, this was yet another detail of his private life that he had hardly shared with anyone besides him. The slightly tense atmosphere would likely tip over completely now.

uke’s fingers twitched a little at the chopsticks, his gaze shifting to Allison. He pursed his lips before opening his mouth to respond, “No, Allison is a year older than me, according to Grandpa.”

The werewolf couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow in surprise. It seemed the Brit noticed, confronting him with a “What’s wrong?” Scott quickly masked his reaction with a hasty cough, claiming he had tasted something like garlic in his wonton.

“That can’t be right,” Luke shook his head. “Jonathan has been preparing my wonton like this for years.” His attention shifted back to Allison and Isaac. “If you want to know exactly, I was born on July 1st, the sacred day of Juno, just like Jason Grace.” A hint of pride laced his voice.

“Uh, okay,” Isaac replied, his response rather lackluster. “In the UK?”

“Of course. I was born at the Queen Charlotte’s & Chelsea Hospital in London. It’s one of the most renowned private maternity clinics. Mum received excellent care; Dad made sure of that. With the necessary peace and privacy.” Luke sipped from the lid of his thermos, glancing back and forth between Isaac and Allison.

Scott felt an odd sense of longing. It was the same yearning he felt in Luke’s presence, yet it was entirely different. The Brit’s grey-green eyes finally rested on Allison.

“And that means?” Isaac pressed, pushing his plate aside.

“That I was born via Caesarean section,” Luke explained, looking at the last remnants of wonton in his Son Goku box before sliding it towards Isaac and Allison. “Here, take it. This slop really does seem inedible.”

Allison reached for it as well, giving her cousin a grateful smile, which he shyly returned. Why was he sharing details about his past in front of people he barely knew? His father had moved heaven and earth to ensure that nothing about Luke ever leaked out. Until now, the Brit had only been willing to reveal bits and pieces to Scott, and that was likely only because he had a crush on him.

“Then you had a good childhood?” Isaac pressed on, and this time the expected reaction was immediate, as Luke’s right eyelid twitched betrayingly. He pressed his lips together and fell silent for a moment before shrugging.

“Yes. I had a good childhood. My father bought me everything I wanted, and the staff were always attentive. I grew up in a large estate, with all the advantages that money could buy. Until I entered the nearby private school, I was taught by the best teachers in Cambridge.” Luke avoided looking directly at the blonde werewolf. That was a sign he was lying. Scott could tell as well, for his seatmate’s heartbeat was inevitably quickening.

“That sounds enchanting,” Isaac remarked dryly, shoving down his wonton as if he were starving.

“It was,” Luke replied, his voice sounding overly enthusiastic. “My father is part of the upper echelons of society, and so am I. If it weren’t for Grandpa needing my help, I would probably be playing in the youth squad of Manchester United today, aiming to break the goal record in the Premier League one day, so he could be proud of me.”

Scott tensed involuntarily at the mention of Gerard. The spoon in his fingers threatened to bend. Even though he hadn’t understood half of what Luke was saying, he was aware that he wanted to achieve yet another success solely for his grandfather.

“Isn’t that a bit overly ambitious?” Allison interjected, having noticed that something was off with the Alpha. Scott was usually more quiet, composed, and reserved.

“We live in a performance-driven society where there are no prizes for second place. Besides, football isn’t just a sport; it’s a way of life. It’s the highest honour to play for one of the best clubs in England, and perhaps even represent my country at the European Championship and the World Cup. There’s a world of difference between watching from the stands and being on the pitch.” Luke’s voice now carried a genuine enthusiasm.

“So, you like football?” Allison feigned ignorance, clearly aware of the topic’s significance.

“I live for football. Not a day goes by without me training. I’m trying to make my weaker foot as strong as my dominant one, improving my dribbling and perfecting my technique. By the time I’m 19 or 20, I hope to be at a point where my name is called out at Old Trafford, and no Manchester United game can go by without Luke Taylor on the pitch. I want to be the striker that keeps goalkeepers trembling because I score at least one hat-trick in every match.” Luke hesitated before pushing his pancakes towards Allison and Isaac as well.

“Thank you,” both of them replied in unison, the blonde more interested in the food, while Allison focused on her cousin. Luke seemed indifferent to either reaction, and it dawned on Scott: his seatmate was being kind to them because they were practically family. If he treated Chris similarly, it would align with Stiles’ analysis. He wanted to trust them.

“What’s a hat-trick?” Scott asked.

“A hat-trick is when you score three consecutive goals in a game. That’s what made me a hero in the locker room during the decisive match against our rivals from Oxford. I was the one who equalised in the second half and scored the crucial penalty in the shootout for our team. The Tiger of Cambridge.” A faint smile graced Luke’s lips. “Maybe I could have scored one more if you had been there,” he whispered softly towards the Alpha.

Scott didn’t smile. He felt a pang of empathy for the pressure Luke seemed to be under, as well as the need for validation from those he evidently liked. The werewolf didn’t define his friends by their achievements but by their character, and he felt particularly strong about that when it came to someone like Luke.

“So, you’re raking in even more money, then?” Isaac pulled him from his thoughts.

“I don’t play for the money; I play because it’s fun and I’m good at it.”

With that, their conversation shifted to other topics that concerned them all: school, the upcoming chemistry test, and the orientation run tomorrow. The lunch break passed quickly, and they prepared for their next class. Luke politely said his goodbyes, mentioning he had something to take care of, packed his things, and then disappeared.

“Now we’ve got everything Stiles needs for his investigations, right?” Isaac asked the group.

“We even know which hospital he was born in,” Allison confirmed.

“Let’s hope we’re not disappointed,” Scott chimed in, nodding towards his best friend, who had just rounded the corner. He truly hoped so, because once the young Alpha had certainty that Allison’s cousin was his soulmate, he would do everything in his power to free him from Gerard and give him the freedom he deserved. More than he already had.

Chapter Text

Scott stood outside Dr. Deaton's veterinary practice. Stiles had called him, insisting he come immediately. Apparently, Derek and he had found Erica and Boyd. The fact that they were at the druid's was a bad sign. The young Alpha was already imagining the worst scenarios. Erica and Boyd had become something like friends. Not in the same way as Stiles, Lydia, Isaac, or Allison, but still somewhat part of their group. Since Derek had truly embraced his Alpha role, the two of them had also changed a little.

Inside, he found a seething Derek, with Stiles doing his utmost to calm him down. Derek's eyes were practically glowing as he paced angrily like a kicked dog. Before Scott could draw attention to himself, the door to the treatment room swung open, and Deaton emerged, peeling off a pair of stained disposable gloves. He looked visibly exhausted.

“Erica will be fine, and I've given Boyd a sedative. The healing process has already begun. However, it will take a few days for them to fully recover.” His gaze shifted towards Scott, acknowledging him.

“Can someone enlighten me about what's going on?” demanded the dark-haired one.

“Right away,” said Stiles, turning to his partner. “You’re going inside now and staying close to both of them. It’s important.” With that, he shoved Derek into the treatment room and closed the door behind him. He let out a quiet sigh and ran a hand through his hair.

“I think I can fill Scott in on the latest developments, Stiles. You could use a moment of fresh air, hm?” Deaton suggested gently. “And some hydration too. Why don’t you grab a drink from the water cooler? I’ll send Scott in shortly, alright?”

The sheriff's son nodded briefly, threw a hard-to-read glance at his best friend, and then stepped outside. His posture was hunched, shoulders slumped, and he trembled all over. Scott was about to follow him when he was gently held back by a hand on his shoulder.

“Let him be. He’s had his hands full trying to prevent Derek from doing something foolish,” the druid explained calmly.

“What’s actually going on?” Scott shot a questioning glance at his boss.

“They brought Erica and Boyd to my practice just over an hour ago. Both were closer to death than life, especially Erica.” Deaton's expression was serious.

“What?” the werewolf blurted out. “You mean the two of them…” He looked past the druid towards the treatment room.

“I already said earlier that they’re out of the woods, but it was a close call.” He straightened up and forced a crooked smile. “A stroke of luck, I’d say. They happened to find them in the warehouse where you faced off against the Darach.”

“You mean…” Scott's eyes widened.

“No, I don’t think so, although the pattern would certainly fit, at least in Erica’s case.”

“The pattern?”

“Erica was similarly bound as I was back then, with the difference being that she was hung just above the ground with a steel chain and electric current was passed through it at regular intervals. She couldn’t transform to free herself, but she was strong enough to pull herself up regularly to avoid strangulation.”

The werewolf felt his mouth go dry as he listened to the veterinarian's account. It sounded unmistakably like their deranged teacher. She had pulled the same stunt with Deaton, and his life had also been hanging by a thread. That would mean Miss Blake was still out there somewhere, seeking revenge.

“No, it’s not what you think,” Deaton interrupted his thoughts. “Boyd was nailed to the door of the warehouse with nails that had been dipped in a mixture of monkshood and rowan. He too was unable to free himself.” For a brief moment, silence filled the room, and Scott took a moment to comprehend what his counterpart had just said. “But I don’t think both were meant to be victims.”

“But…” the young Alpha began, only to be interrupted immediately.

“It’s not about the physical wounds inflicted on them. Those will heal soon. What happened to Erica and Boyd has left a mental scar. Both were forced to watch the other slowly die without being able to help.” The druid’s voice grew quieter with each word until it resembled a whisper.

“Then it was Gerard,” Scott concluded.

“I don’t know,” Deaton shrugged helplessly.

“Who else could it be?”

“Boyd and Erica were attacked by a single person.”

Scott shook his head in disbelief. “That can’t be right. Both of them are trained werewolves by now. Even a professional hunter would need help.”

It simply couldn’t be true, as Erica and Boyd were more than capable of defending themselves, unlike at the beginning. Derek had worked hard to prepare his charges, enabling them to stand their ground against larger threats—or at least to hold out until he and the rest of the pack arrived.

“I’m not even sure it was a hunter.” The druid’s eyebrows knitted together, and he appeared to be deep in thought.

“What do you mean by that?”

Deaton released Scott and sat back in the swivel chair behind the reception desk. He wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt and then clasped his hands in his lap. “Boyd mentioned a demon or a demon-like creature that attacked them both. It had yellow glowing eyes and wore a mask that obscured its face—if it even has a face. It was dressed entirely in black.”

“A demon? Do such things even exist?” The question marks were evident on the Alpha’s face. He had seen a lot so far—werewolves, a kanima, a banshee, fallen druids, and the like. While it was certainly plausible that demons could exist, why would one specifically target Erica and Boyd?

“Well, it’s not entirely out of the question. The real question is whether it was actually a demon or not. Despite everything, Boyd and Erica managed to hold it off for a brief period. However, the warehouse was rigged. According to Derek, the air was thick with monkshood. That weakened them even further. Boyd mentioned they had briefly managed to chase it up onto the railing, but they were already struggling. The creature was practically flying,” Deaton explained in his usual calm, analytical manner.

“So you don’t think it was Gerard?” Scott concluded.

“I believe we’re dealing with an extremely dangerous individual or entity,” the werewolf corrected him. “That the whole affair is somehow connected to Gerard is beyond doubt.”

“Do you think it was a normal person?” Scott shook his head again. “No human can take on two werewolves at the same time, especially since Erica and Boyd aren’t omegas. Not even with good preparation.”

“You’ve experienced firsthand what good preparation can do. Think of Allison’s mother or the attack on the police department. We’re up against a highly intelligent adversary.” Deaton leaned closer to the reception desk, where a bottle of mineral water sat, taking a sip from it.

In fact, Scott still remembered painfully what Victoria Argent had done to him. She had acted with cold precision and had prepared almost perfectly. He had nearly died if Derek hadn’t saved him.

“How did they lure her into the warehouse?” he wanted to know.

“Both received a message that the other wanted to meet in the warehouse.” Deaton straightened up a bit and twisted the bottle of mineral water in his hands.

“I think Gerard orchestrated all of this, as that would be just his style, but I find your theory that it’s a simple human rather…” The werewolf searched for the right words. “Why would the eyes glow? A mask would also restrict movement. No one is agile enough to escape from a werewolf.”

“Perhaps against two weakened werewolves. I’m not sure if my suspicion is correct, but it could also be that someone wants us to believe we’re dealing with a supernatural being, when that may not be the case at all. Regardless of who or what it is, good preparation seems to have been necessary, especially since I don’t believe they intended to kill Erica and Boyd.”

“But you just said that both narrowly escaped death?” Scott was admittedly confused now.

“Yes, but if they had wanted to kill them, it could have been done much quicker and more straightforwardly. Perhaps this is just a red herring? Of course, these are all just speculations.” The veterinarian stood up and rolled his shoulders. “I’ll think this over some more. In the meantime, it might be a good idea for you to check on Stiles.”

“And Derek?” The werewolf’s eyes wandered towards the treatment room.

“Stiles needs him to find his centre again. The situation has hit him hard. It’s probably best if you help your best friend get back to a point where he can be a support for his partner.”

“Alright,” Scott nodded and stepped outside. He took Deaton’s advice, as he had long since become something of a fatherly mentor to him, especially since he didn’t know how to deal with Derek himself. What does one even say in such a situation?

He was greeted by the cool evening air as he stepped outside and saw Stiles, arms tightly wrapped around his body, shifting from one leg to the other. He still looked completely worn out and shivered. In the pale light of dusk, he appeared even paler than usual.

“Hey, bro,” Scott began gently, hugging his best friend from behind. “Is it that bad?”

“Derek completely lost it. He thinks it was Gerard,” Stiles reported quietly, without turning to face his friend, but he didn’t resist the embrace either.

“And what’s so bad about that?” Scott had already come to this conclusion himself.

“Because he wants to take action, and Derek isn’t exactly known for his calm nature.” There was something alarming in Stiles' tone.

“What do you mean by that?”

Scott watched from the side as Stiles bit his lower lip, trembling a little more. He leaned against his best friend and closed his eyes. His fingers instinctively wandered to the warm equivalents of a werewolf.

“That he wants to act completely recklessly. I had my hands full trying to talk him out of it.”

“Talk him out of what?”

“Nothing. He won’t do it.”

“Stiles…” Scott tightened his arms around his best friend. “What’s going on? You’ve always been able to calm Derek down before.”

“This is different. He’s afraid of failing again, just like back when Erica and Boyd nearly died because of Deucalion. Derek blames himself for the whole situation because he didn’t keep a close enough eye on them.” Stiles finally turned to face Scott, and uncertainty mirrored in his caramel-brown eyes, along with a hint of guilt.

“No one saw this coming. Besides, if Boyd is right and it’s some kind of demon…” Scott left the end of his sentence open deliberately, staring steadily at his friend. He didn’t want to unsettle Stiles any more than he already was.

“Just do me a favour, okay?”

“Hmm?”

“Look after yourself, bro, alright?”

“I will,” Scott assured him.

“When they’re back on their feet, I’ll question them. Until then, we should give Erica and Boyd the rest they need. Deaton said they can stay overnight here. We’ll take care of the rest. You focus on your date tomorrow, okay?”

“Stiles, this might not be the best time to—” Scott began, but was immediately cut off.

“Do this for me. If anyone might know something, it’s Luke. Try to get something out of him, discreetly, of course. If Gerard really has some kind of new secret weapon, then his favourite will likely hear about it.”

“I’ll try,” Scott nodded, resting his forehead against that of his best friend. “We’ll get through this, Stiles. You know I’m here for you, right?”

“I know, Scott.” In fact, a hint of a smile appeared on Stiles' lips. “Let’s go back inside before someone thinks we’re a couple.”

“Derek would probably have my head for that, huh?”

“Most likely.”

Chapter Text

Together, they had managed to calm Derek down to some extent yesterday. It had primarily been the guilt that had driven the young Hale to despair. He simply did not want to lose another piece of family for which he was responsible. The memories of a youth without his familiar surroundings were too painful. Erica and Boyd were now in the loft, recovering there under the strict supervision and watch of their Alpha.

The next day was entirely focused on the orienteering event. The majority of the school had gathered, promptly at nine o'clock, at the designated meeting point in front of the woods. Allison would be running with Isaac, Lydia with Aiden, Danny with Ethan… pairs, as it were. Scott had agreed with Stiles that they would tackle this run together.

They had all prepared accordingly: at least one GPS-capable phone with sufficient battery was mandatory, as was appropriate clothing. For Scott, this consisted of a dark jacket, tracksuit bottoms, and black trainers. Stiles wore something similar, just in grey. He was just zipping up his jacket when the Coach appeared, glancing back and forth between the two of them.

“What are you two up to?” he barked at them in his usual manner.

“Participating in the orienteering event, just like everyone else?” Stiles replied, deliberately playing dumb.

Coach Finstock narrowed his eyes, stared at his clipboard, then at the sheriff's son, and shook his head. “You’re not. Stilinski is teamed up with Jackson and McCall with Taylor. Where is he, anyway?”

Both Stiles and Scott dropped their jaws. They had both signed up together on the list. They knew that. Jackson would never voluntarily want to do the orienteering with Stiles. That was out of the question.

“Who decided that?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes slightly.

“I did,” the Coach stated, leaving no room for argument.

“But what was the point of the list if you can just decide who pairs up with whom?” Scott’s best friend pressed on.

“That list is under my authority, and I ultimately decide what’s best for the lacrosse team.”

“But Luke isn’t even on the lacrosse team,” Scott interjected, earning a disapproving glare from his coach.

“Yes, we’ll discuss that too. I’ve looked into the athletic achievements of that boy.” With that, Finstock turned his full attention to him. “It’s your job to convince him to join our team.”

“What? Why?”

"Because you are the captain, and I hope to gain something for the team from this, both in terms of performance and financially. I expect him to support us in training next week. Do we understand each other?" Finstock scribbled something on his clipboard. "Besides, this rivalry is good because the fire that burns in Jackson is almost…" He seemed to be searching for the right word.

"Brain-cell destroying?" Stiles finished the sentence.

"Shut up, Stilinski," the older man snapped at him. "You’re going to Jackson, and you’re with Taylor, McCall." With that, he tucked the clipboard under his arm and stomped off.

"Idiot," Stiles hissed, shooting their teacher a venomous look. "Just what I needed, being paired with Jackson."

"Sorry, bro," Scott mumbled, feeling guilty. He didn't even know why he felt bad, as it wasn't his fault.

"Somehow, it seems fate wants you to spend a few leisure hours with your favourite, huh?" his best friend chuckled. "I just wonder why I can't be paired with someone sensible. I’d even prefer Greenburg. Where's your sweetheart, anyway?"

"Don't call him that," Scott snorted, looking around; there was no sign of Luke anywhere.

"Probably got cold feet because it’s not just about being fast here, but also having some brains," Stiles joked.

"You’re definitely lacking in one of those departments," came a voice from behind them. Luke had appeared out of nowhere behind them. He was wearing a black-and-red tracksuit jacket with a yellow zip and hood. The right side bore the logo of a brand Scott had never seen before, while the left featured the symbol that was also in his room. The black tracksuit trousers with red stripes matched seamlessly, from the same brand, with the same logo. Only his yellow-and-white running shoes stood out a bit. The Brit had his hands shoved in his pockets and had zipped his jacket up to his chin.

"Why am I not surprised that you’re wearing such a get-up?" Stiles teased, nodding towards the logo. "Did Daddy also buy you matching bed linen, or did he just get you a spot on the team?"

"My father doesn’t have to buy me a spot; I’m actually an excellent player," Luke replied coolly, then managed to force a smile. "Unlike yours, mine would actually be capable of it. I got a ticket yesterday. Was it from your dad? Should I add two zeros so they can afford computers from the 21st century at the station?" He tilted his head and added, sounding slightly malicious, "Or maybe you could get a gym membership, perhaps then something might come of you?"

Stiles blinked for a moment before he too broke into a smile. "Thanks, but I’m quite happy with my appearance. We just don’t indulge in pointless consumerism and stick to what’s tried and tested, that’s all. But someone who probably has a butler to wipe his backside can hardly imagine that. Does he also cut your food into small pieces and shake out your bed linen so that Richboy doesn’t have any bad dreams? Like, that little Luke’s favourite team can win even without him? Or maybe lose?"

Luke's right eyelid twitched dangerously, and Scott could see his hands clenching into fists in his pockets. He also noticed a bulge in the right pocket that was clearly too large for just his hand. Just as the Brit was about to say something, a loud whistle sounded, and everyone turned to the Coach, who was standing on a small hill, waiting until he had their full attention.

"The procedure is clear to all of you. We’ll start in staggered intervals. You need to navigate from station to station. You’ve already entered the starting coordinates into your phones. Once you find the next point and solve the riddle, you’ll get the next coordinates, and so on. If you get lost, you’ll come back here to the starting point. How Google Maps works should be clear to everyone." He cast a stern look around. "No excuses about not having a signal; the route has been tested. It’s impossible to get lost. So, I wish you all good luck, and the first pair can move towards me, namely McCall and Taylor."

Scott inhaled sharply. To be honest, he didn’t want to be the first to take off. Most of all, he had to leave Stiles alone already, giving him another guilty look. Stiles merely nodded towards Luke and made a face before he walked off, leaving them alone. That left him alone with the Brit, who was already making his way to the Coach. In front of everyone, the Alpha caught up with him, and Scott felt like a lamb being led to the slaughter.

As he walked, the Brit pulled a pair of black fingerless gloves from his pocket, putting them on and securing them with Velcro. He flexed his fingers, and Scott could smell the leather.

"You two have a reputation to uphold," the Coach began, loud enough for everyone to hear. "You as the captain of the lacrosse team and you as a potential captain of a football team. Besides, you’re the principal’s grandson. So don’t disappoint your grandpa. You will reach the finish line first, understood?"

"Any other wishes?" Luke asked boredly, looking disinterestedly past Finstock.

"Several, but that will do for now." The teacher then threw Scott a challenging look before taking his stopwatch in hand and putting the whistle to his lips.

Scott found the whole situation quite uncomfortable. Not only did he feel like he was on display, which he hated, but it was also Luke’s twisted nature, especially towards Stiles, that bothered him and even scared him a little. It was hardly conceivable that this boy, who had pressed against him when they had kissed, even existed. Luke was just like he had been the day they met: snobbish, arrogant, and condescending. However, he had no choice but to stand next to the Brit and get ready to run. Luke glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, wearing an unreadable expression, before turning his gaze back to the front.

No sooner had the whistle blown than Luke took off running, and Scott followed him. It was easy for him to keep pace with his teammate, but the speed Luke set was nonetheless impressive.

"Do you even know where we’re supposed to go?" the werewolf asked.

"Of course, just follow me."

In front of a large gnarled oak, after what felt like five kilometres of travel, Luke stopped and looked up at the treetop. The first beads of sweat glistened on his forehead despite the rather cool breeze that had accompanied them.

"Are we in the right place?" Scott followed Luke's lead and looked up as well.

"Probably the idiot hid the first clue up there." The Brit walked around the tree and nodded. "Definitely."

"Shouldn't he have put up a rope or climbing aid? I mean, not everyone is as athletic as we are," Scott suggested.

"He did."

Before the werewolf could press further, Luke stepped back a few paces, took a run-up, and jumped against the trunk of the oak. His fingers found a hold in a piece of broken bark, and he effortlessly climbed from protrusion to branch until he reached the top. A few seconds later, a long piece of rope with several knots appeared next to Scott.

"You don't need to come up; it's a simple question," came Luke's voice from above. "When were the United States founded?"

"1776," Scott replied and stepped back as Luke landed next to him, rolling smoothly upon landing.

"Correct," he smiled at Scott and reached for his iPhone. "We need to go that way." He pointed west before putting his phone back in his jacket pocket and setting off.

"How did you do that?" Scott asked, keeping pace with Luke.

"Practice," Luke replied, already breathing somewhat shallowly. "I have a lot of free time, and there’s a big parkour scene in Cambridge. I’ve already discussed that with your mother."

"So this is parkour?"

"It is," Scott confirmed. "Among other things. But I’d suggest we postpone our conversation for later."

Despite the fact that the werewolf could easily keep up with his teammate, he was still impressed by the pace Luke set. He was indeed an excellent runner, effortlessly overcoming obstacles, whether they were fallen trees, pits, uneven paths, or the small stream, without getting wet. Scott took care of some of the tasks, which ranged from climbing to feeling around and fishing out a clue with a lacrosse stick. The riddles themselves were simple and only required general knowledge in history, geography, and business studies. Although the Alpha couldn’t quite gauge how fast they were going, he felt they were undoubtedly ranking near the top. Once again, it was evident that they made an excellent team.

"Final question," Scott read aloud as Luke settled down on a boulder to catch his breath. He pulled his right leg up and rested his left arm on it. By now, his hair was sticking to his forehead, and his heart was pounding wildly.

"So?" the Brit gasped. "What’s the final question?"

"We're lost," Scott sighed.

“Why?”

“Because no one can know that.”

“Read it out,” his teammate urged him.

“What goes together?” Scott squinted and narrowed his eyes. He couldn’t make heads or tails of it: “Five Rings, The Art of War, and Das Kapital, Canada, India, and the USA, or Sekhmet, Ares, and Tyr.” It was all gobbledygook to him. Canada, India, and the USA were countries, but he had never heard of the rest.

Luke wiped his forehead with his jacket sleeve and then chuckled softly. “Is that the final question? Really?”

“Yes?” Scott looked from the sheet of paper to his teammate and back again. “Do you know the answer?”

“The first ones are books. The Five Rings and The Art of War are Eastern classics that deal with warfare. Das Kapital is a manuscript from which socialism derives. Canada, India, and the USA were all once under British rule, and Ares, Sekhmet, and Tyr are deities.” Luke slid off the boulder and came over to Scott.

“But they all have something in common?” the werewolf whined.

“Yes and no. Two out of the three books deal with a specific topic, while one stands out. The same goes for the countries: two out of three are members of the Commonwealth, only the USA isn’t. Only the three deities have something in common: the Greeks worshipped Ares as the god of war, the Germans worshipped Tyr, and the Egyptians worshipped Sekhmet.” He shrugged and smiled. “Answer three is the correct one.”

Scott gave Luke a surprised look. “How do you know that?”

“If you had read Percy Jackson, you’d know,” he grinned.

“I have other interests,” the werewolf retorted, a smile creeping onto his lips.

The Brit now seemed entirely different from how he had been at the start: the grin, complete with braces, gave him a sense of normalcy. He just stood there, completely sweaty, still breathing heavily, and gave Scott a curious glance. The beating of Luke's heart was like music to Scott’s ears. His scent overpowered the smell of sweat and laundry detergent. He had to force himself to remember what the boy in front of him had done with his best friend; that he was arrogant, snobbish, pretentious, and condescending.

As the Alpha drifted into his thoughts, Luke stepped closer to him. He had put on a teasing look. Before Scott could react, Luke’s hands were already draped across his teammate’s back.

“You think too much,” his counterpart giggled.

“Do I?” the werewolf grumbled, trying to pull away, but he couldn’t. His body responded to Luke. It felt right, the way they stood there.

“Definitely,” he whispered, moving his face along Scott’s neck.

Scott felt something warm and soft against his neck. It brushed against him. Luke’s lips wandered over his skin and lingered on his birthmark, which was tenderly kissed.

“Don’t,” he murmured, trying to break free. “We’re not at the finish line yet.”

“We have plenty of time,” Luke lisped, running his fingers through Scott’s hair. “I could stand here all day and do this.” He pulled back and gave Scott a lovestruck look. “Or do you actually want me to stop?”

Everything in him longed for his counterpart not to stop. It was unwise, yet Scott already missed the feeling of Luke's lips on his skin. The fingers that stroked through his hair and scratched his neck left a tingling sensation, and he felt a sharp burning in his chest that radiated throughout his entire body.

“No,” he managed to say.

As if on cue, Luke was already glued to him again, kissing him on the neck. The werewolf tilted his head back slightly and closed his eyes. What Luke was doing felt more than good. The kissing turned into gentle nibbling, and Scott bit down on his lower lip. The burning intensified with every second. He could hardly think clearly anymore.

He barely knew the boy who was hanging on him, yet it felt as if they had done all this before. The kissing, the tingling on his skin, the burning—everything felt so familiar. Luke's fingers glided over his own, intertwining with them, as he nestled against him and whispered how good he would taste—it was so similar to Allison and yet so different. Luke was a boy, not a girl. He was the first boy ever for whom he felt this way. Despite this fact, and Scott was by no means repressed or closed off when it came to love for the same sex, it felt right to him.

“Can I ask you something before we finish this stupid run?” Luke inquired softly, burying his face in Scott's neck.

“What is it?” He looked down and stroked the Brit's neck in a familiar gesture.

“Will you stay over at mine tonight if you enjoy the evening?”

It wasn't the fact that he was asking, but how he did it that almost made Scott melt. Luke sounded nothing like his usual self—confident and snobbish; his tone was slightly higher, he swallowed letters, and he almost seemed to stammer nervously.

“Do you really want that?” the Alpha pressed.

“Sure, just casually. I mean, not that anything will happen.” Luke's cheeks flushed a gentle pink at these words. “You think I'm a complete idiot, don't you?”

“No,” Scott reassured him. “Just very sweet, if I’m honest.”

“Sweet is just a euphemism for crap,” Luke retorted, sounding insecure.

“I mean it seriously.” Scott hesitated before placing a kiss on the Brit's forehead. “Very much so.”

“I’ll save that for tonight, yeah?” A fleeting smile crossed his face at the kiss.

Luke pulled away from him, gripping his hands firmly before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his iPhone. With trembling fingers, he entered the coordinates, avoiding looking directly at Scott. “We need to go that way,” he said and then started moving again.

They covered the remaining distance to their supposed destination in silence. Luke's shallow breathing was the only constant sound during their run. Even though he tried not to show it, his strength was slowly waning, despite the break they had taken. But it was no wonder, as the pace they had maintained was extremely high. Scott was still amazed that someone who wasn't a werewolf could keep going for so long at such a high level.

They ran over hill and dale, with Luke repeatedly checking their direction. He completely refrained from any verbal communication and relied solely on simple gestures. At some point, Scott had had enough and came to a halt.

"You need a break," he stated bluntly.

"I don’t need a break," Luke protested, though his knees were visibly shaking.

"Yes, you do. I can see that you can barely stay on your feet."

"You’re mistaken," he dismissed. "I know what I can put my body through."

"Apparently not." Scott approached him and then knelt in front of him, turning his back to Luke.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"I'm carrying you the last distance on my back." Scott made a beckoning gesture with his arms and looked up at Luke, who did not seem impressed at all.

"Not a chance, I'm not some pampered princess. How would that look if we arrived like this?" he firmly rejected the suggestion.

"This is a partner run, right? We’re partners, and I haven’t had to do much because you’ve done everything. The others will do the same, Isaac with Allison for sure, unless she’s too proud, and Aiden with Lydia as well." Scott raised his arms again in a beckoning manner. "Just give in." He could see Luke’s resistance starting to crumble. Something inside him didn’t want his partner to exhaust himself like this, especially since it wasn’t necessary. Instinctively, he added, "Do it for me."

"Are you sure Allison would also let Isaac carry her?" he asked hesitantly, but Scott was already aware that he had won.

"Absolutely," he confirmed.

“You let me down just before the finish line,” Luke demanded, but he was already making himself comfortable on Scott's back.

“Agreed.”

As a werewolf, Scott barely felt the extra weight. Luke wrapped his arms around his chest, and Scott lifted him under the knees in return. Slowly, he straightened up with his human cargo, checked once more that he wouldn’t drop him, and then set off.

“The last time I was carried like this was when I slipped during training and sprained my ankle,” Luke chuckled, visibly relaxing. “Jonathan wasn’t nearly as pleasant a carrier as you.”

“Is it possible you like him?” Scott asked, picking up the pace a little.

“Jonathan is, after Grandpa, something of a constant in my life. Him, Grandpa, and Hakim.”

“Hakim?”

“Yes, Hakim is my dog. Dad gave him to me for my fifteenth birthday. He was just a tiny puppy back then.” Scott could almost hear the smile in Luke’s voice as he spoke about his dog. “He’s incredibly intelligent and very lovable, my best training partner.”

“Hakim is quite an exotic-sounding name.” Scott paused briefly so Luke could correct their direction before moving again.

“Hakim is Arabic and means wise or intelligent. Once, he managed to open the cupboard by himself to get to his food. The cleaning staff were in an uproar because he spread all the treats across the floor. I found it hilarious.” Luke clung tightly to Scott’s shirt. “He’s always there for me and sleeps in my bed too.”

“Why didn’t I see him the last time?” Scott asked. “I really like animals. My part-time job is at the local veterinary practice.”

“Because Grandpa doesn’t like dogs, and Hakim seems to have a problem with him. Normally, he’s not like that. He’s probably jealous because I have less time for him because of Grandpa,” Luke speculated.

That probably wasn’t the reason. Scott knew from experience that dogs were very good judges of character. They usually behaved kindly towards him, which wasn’t just because of his werewolf nature. Of course, there were aggressive dogs, but from Luke’s description, Hakim didn’t seem to be one of those. He could still vividly remember Gerard's account of the rabid dog he had killed.

“So, behind the next fork in the road should be the finish line, let me down,” he was instructed.

“Are you sure you can manage it?” Scott stopped and looked back doubtfully.

“Absolutely.”

As soon as he was back on solid ground, they continued on their way together, this time at a noticeably slower pace. Indeed, waiting behind the next bend, as predicted, was their geography teacher, Mr. Wilson. He greeted them with a broad smile and pressed the stopwatch.

“Congratulations, you’re the first,” he welcomed them. “In record time, mind you.”

“Are we done then?” Luke shrugged his shoulders, looking completely different again.

“Yes. I think the coach wants to have a word with you…” their teacher began, but was immediately interrupted by Luke.

“He can do that after the weekend. I’d prefer to shower and change out of these sweaty clothes.” Luke wiped some hair from his forehead.

“I can stay,” Scott suggested. “It’s enough for one of us to be here, right?”

“I don’t know.” Mr. Wilson shrugged a bit helplessly, casting an annoyed glance at Luke.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” the Brit chimed in again. “We’ll see each other later,” he added towards Scott and then left them alone.

“If that young man weren’t the director’s grandson…” Mr. Wilson shook his head. “So disrespectful.”

“I know,” Scott sighed. “I know.”

With that, he watched Luke walk away, wondering how someone could behave so ambivalently. He also realised that they hadn’t clarified whether Scott would be staying over at his place. Should he? Did he want to? The first question was hard to answer, but for the second, his pounding heart, which was racing not only from exertion, made the decision likely already made.

Chapter Text

Scott stared absently at his wardrobe. Not only was he unable to decide on an outfit, but Luke's behaviour from earlier that day kept replaying in his mind. How could someone act so ambivalently? Was it really just the result of being in love? Could that fact make such a significant difference? With a quiet sigh, he ran a hand through his still slightly damp hair, trying to focus his attention on choosing what to wear.

As he rummaged through his tops, another question pressed itself upon him: Should he really spend the night at Luke's? That would mean being close to Gerard. Perhaps this date was actually a cleverly devised trap? The image of Luke, asking him shyly to stay over, and how the Alpha had felt about it—no, it was impossible that he had been deceived. Scott had no doubt about the sincerity of Luke's feelings towards him, especially since he felt the same way. The whole situation was just overwhelming. He was torn between affection and concern.

After giving it considerable thought, Scott settled on a grey long-sleeve shirt and that red-and-white striped jumper he had worn bowling with Allison. Back then, the world had felt different. He remembered well how she had encouraged him, albeit with somewhat questionable methods. A smile crept onto the werewolf's lips at the thought of the good old days. It might sound a bit old-fashioned, but it was true: he still missed Allison, although that feeling was gradually starting to fade.

Quickly, Scott shifted his focus to the rest of his outfit, consisting of dark jeans and his black Converse. Once his hair was dry, he disappeared into the bathroom, applied a bit of gel to style his hair, and brushed his teeth. He checked his reflection one last time before returning to his room, nodding in satisfaction at his appearance, and then headed downstairs, slightly nervous. Luke had texted him that he would pick him up in fifteen minutes.

Why was he even nervous? Sure, it could be due to the date—he had felt similarly when going out with Allison—but he didn’t think it was just that. A small part of Scott felt a sense of fear. He brushed his hand over the spot where the mark was on his upper arm and sank into one of the chairs at the dining table. This would be his first date with Luke, and also his first with a boy. So far, he had enjoyed kissing. That wasn’t what unsettled him. To be honest, he couldn’t quite pinpoint his nervousness. Was it Gerard's influence on Luke that made him fear being emotionally vulnerable? Luke's quirky nature? Or simply the fact that his last date felt like it had happened half a century ago? Excitement and apprehension battled within him.

Restlessly, he tapped his fingers on the table. Should he leave a message for his mother? That he would be home late? Or maybe not at all? No, he would just text her. Instead, he got up and wandered anxiously around the house. Was he dressed appropriately? What would Luke wear? How should he behave if he didn’t like the date?

Time flew by, and Scott's heart skipped a beat when the doorbell rang. He hastily checked his hair one last time and grabbed a dark jacket before rushing to the door. Luke’s heartbeat was quick, and Scott could hear his nervous breathing, along with a men’s cologne that masked his own scent and that of the laundry detergent.

As soon as Scott opened the door, Luke looked up and gave him a crooked smile. He was wearing the cinnamon-coloured cardigan from the day before, paired with black jeans and black sneakers with a white stripe—exactly the kind Scott owned.

“Hey,” came Luke’s quiet voice.

“Hi, Luke,” Scott replied, feeling slightly uncertain about what to do. Should he kiss him as a greeting? Hug him?

The decision was taken out of his hands when Luke jingled his car keys softly. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by the situation and avoided prolonged eye contact. “Shall we go?”

“Sure,” Scott said, closing the door behind him. He didn’t need to lock it, as his mother had a key.

“I hope the place is really as good as the owner claimed over the phone,” Luke attempted to start a conversation as he unlocked the Mercedes while walking. “Have you been there before?”

“Several times,” Scott confirmed. “And it really is good,” he added.

They both got into the car, and the interior still held its captivating effect on Scott. Despite being a werewolf, he was still a teenager who enjoyed things like cars and motorcycles. The thought of two-wheeled vehicles reminded him that he needed to call the workshop, as he honestly had little desire to cycle to the veterinary practice anymore.

All the lights and indicators lit up as Luke turned the key in the ignition, bringing the Mercedes to life. The engine purred quietly as he shifted into gear, and they set off towards the city centre.

“Hopefully, because I’m starving,” Luke picked up the previous topic of conversation, focusing on the road. It had grown dark, and the first streetlights were illuminating the pavement. The traffic was light, and they were making good progress towards their destination.

“Of course,” Scott assured him. “Just trust me.”

The rest of the journey was filled with rather trivial topics. Both Scott and Luke wore expressions that clearly showed they were nervous. They seemed caught between excitement and a touch of panic. Scott, in particular, found it hard to control himself. He was afraid of undergoing another transformation, especially in public, as that would pose a significant problem.

They turned into a seemingly deserted car park that would normally be completely full at this hour. The venue was marked by a neon sign in oddly shaped letters, and two chopsticks opened and closed at regular intervals, adding to the peculiar atmosphere. Had it not been for the light streaming through the half-closed shutters, one might have assumed the restaurant was closed.

Scott stepped out, feeling slightly suspicious, and looked around. Indeed, there wasn't a soul in sight. Again, a nagging suspicion of a trap crept into his mind. A quick glance at Luke, however, revealed him to be completely calm, or at least no more nervous than he already was. Breathing out softly, Scott tried to relax and follow his date, sharpening his senses nonetheless. He had no desire to find himself in a dark basement by the end of the evening.

They had barely reached the steps leading up to the large, red-painted wooden door when it swung open. An Asian man, probably in his late fifties, with slightly greying short hair, dressed in a white shirt and dark trousers, and wearing polished shoes, stepped out to greet them. He scrutinised the two visitors briefly, narrowing his eyes.

"Are you Mr Taylor?" he asked, sounding slightly incredulous and with a strong accent.

"I am," Luke confirmed.

"The man on the phone sounded older," the Asian man noted, his dark brown eyes shifting to Scott, who couldn’t make sense of what was happening.

"That was my butler," the Brit explained, reaching into his pocket. The man's expression turned disdainful as he noticed the orange Son Goku wallet. He seemed slightly put out, as his eyebrows furrowed at the sight. Only when Luke opened the wallet and pulled out his credit card did the man's face brighten.

"Here, it's in my name. If you want, you can compare the signatures," he offered, his voice carrying a hint of reserve.

"Not necessary, not necessary!" the stranger insisted. "My name is Li Bo, and I would like to sincerely apologise for my behaviour." He followed this with a slight bow of his upper body. "If you gentlemen would please follow me."

Luke raised an eyebrow and gestured for Scott to follow. For Scott, this situation felt utterly absurd. Stiles would have known what was going on here, but he couldn't exactly ask his best friend right now. He had certainly never been greeted this way when he had come here with his mother.

Inside, the restaurant was eerily empty. It was typically bustling with patrons, and without a reservation, it was nearly impossible to secure a table. So, it was all the more surprising when they were led through the guest area to a secluded nook, well shielded from prying eyes. Not even from the kitchen, where lights were on and voices could be heard, could they have been observed. The entire situation felt almost unsettling, with the restaurant devoid of any guests.

Mr. Bo—Scott assumed Bo was the surname—adjusted the chairs for both Luke and him, bowed slightly again, and then left them alone. The werewolf shrugged off his jacket and draped it over the back of his chair while his date looked around with curiosity.

"Interesting. I expected a much grungier atmosphere," Luke concluded his observation. "At least the equipment seems adequate."

"Say, where are all the guests?" Scott asked, glancing around once more to ensure he hadn’t overlooked anyone.

"I booked the restaurant for today," Luke explained casually, appearing quite taken with a large painting in an intricately carved frame that depicted a tiger battling through a sea of reeds.

"You did what?" Scott exclaimed, unable to contain his shock.

"I booked the restaurant for today, or rather, it's closed to the public," his companion repeated patiently, as if this were the most ordinary thing in the world.

"You can't just do that." Scott sounded not only shocked but genuinely horrified. The entirety of Beacon Hills would have to forgo the culinary delights of this place because of them.

"Of course I can." Luke turned his attention to Scott, tilting his head slightly. "As you can see. It's normal when you own an American Express Centurion Card. I could even close down a shopping mall for some uninterrupted shopping."

The Alpha was momentarily speechless. This was sheer madness. How could Luke justify shutting down an entire restaurant just for the two of them? Scott found the whole thing incredibly off-putting. It made him feel like someone out on a date with a sugar daddy. He didn't want to be pampered or treated differently.

“What’s wrong?” the Brit asked, a hint of concern in his voice. “Are you feeling unwell?”

“No, but this is just impossible. Luke, we can’t be here alone. We have no right to!” Scott retorted, indignantly.

“I want to enjoy my meal in peace, and besides, I want to spend the evening undisturbed. No one here needs your pity; they’re being handsomely compensated for serving just the two of us today—probably more than this place makes in a month. Do you think that’s why the owner is waiting outside and being so friendly?” Luke’s lips curled into a narrow smile, which became even thinner when Mr Bo appeared with the menus.

“What would you like to drink?” the Asian man inquired politely.

Luke opened the menu and began flipping through it, seemingly oblivious to their host’s expectant gaze. Scott attempted to salvage the situation by quietly clearing his throat and asking for a Coke. The order was acknowledged with a nod before the focus returned to Luke.

“Shiaoxin,” he ordered without looking up. “A bowl of that, and for dessert, jasmine tea, warm. I assume you’ll sort out the petals again?”

“Of course,” Mr Bo assured him. “May I ask how old you are, if that’s not too personal? There are strict regulations regarding alcohol consumption in America, as you surely know.” He sounded almost apologetic.

“Seventeen, but that’s irrelevant,” Luke replied, glancing up from the edge of the menu. “I’ll take the blame if there’s a police check. Besides, that should be included in the service.”

Mr Bo’s lower lip quivered slightly before he nodded again and stepped away. His posture was a bit tense, and Scott could hear his shallow breaths, as well as the rapid thumping of his heart.

“Luke, this really isn’t okay,” Scott hissed quietly. “You’re throwing the whole operation into chaos and giving Mr Bo a headache, plus you still have to drive later.”

“I’m not,” Luke corrected him immediately. “I know exactly what I want and what I can handle. A bowl of Shiaoxin isn’t strong enough to impair my driving. Besides, it’s unlikely there’ll be any police checks here. Stiles’ dad is the local sheriff, right? He’s got better things to do than worry about a seventeen-year-old.”

Scott suppressed a desperate sound. This date was turning into a disaster, and they hadn’t even received their first course yet. He was seriously tempted to just leave. He couldn’t handle this kind of situation. A bit of normalcy, despite being a werewolf, would have been desirable. Instead, he found himself stuck here, more or less alone, in a restaurant where the owner and probably the kitchen staff were bending over backwards, all because his date had waved around a piece of plastic.

“It bothers you,” Luke stated, his voice low and steady.

“Of course it bothers me! This is just wrong,” Scott appealed to his companion's conscience. “Money or not, these people work hard every day, and you treat them like they were born to cater to your whims. You’re disregarding valid rules and putting others in difficult situations.”

Luke’s expression hardened, and he retreated behind the menu again. Scott could almost hear the gears turning in his head, wondering what he had done wrong and how he could rectify the situation. It felt just like the last time when Luke had made a dismissive comment about his mother’s house.

Frustrated, the werewolf focused on choosing something for himself. Despite the palpable tension in the air, he was quite hungry. His meals that day had consisted of two granola bars and a packet of instant noodles. The thought of crispy duck on rice or chop suey made his mouth water.

By the time Mr Bo returned to their table with their drinks, they hadn’t exchanged a word. Scott had occasionally glanced over the edge of the menu, but Luke did a good job of hiding his face behind it. It made it difficult for Scott to gauge his reaction, which seemed almost non-existent. When the drinks were set down, Scott received his Coke, while Luke was served a bowl of steaming, amber liquid. He looked up, studied the drink, and cleared his throat.

“Excuse me, Mr Bo, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to cause you any trouble; it’s just not worth it. Could you instead bring me a cup of jasmine tea right now? I’ll, of course, cover the cost of the rice wine,” Luke said, his face expressionless and his tone polite, without a hint of guilt.

“As you wish,” Mr Bo replied, visibly relieved.

“I would also suggest that you open the shutters and resume normal operations,” the Brit added, scratching under his eye with his thumb. “I will, of course, pay full price for our seats and for the loss of earnings you’ve incurred. However, if possible, I would request that the back area here not be the first to be occupied.”

The Asian man’s face spoke volumes, and he nodded once more. Scott was rewarded with a grateful smile, as if Mr Bo were thanking him for the sudden change of heart from his guest. “Have you decided what you’d like?” he asked both of them.

The werewolf had to stifle a laugh. In just five minutes, he had managed to sway Luke’s opinion without much effort at all. There was indeed a grain of truth in Stiles’ words when he claimed he could exert a significant influence over the Brit. The thought of no longer sitting in a ghostly empty restaurant allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief.

“Do you, Scott?” Luke asked, his expression slightly guilty.

“Um, yes!” The werewolf ordered two spring rolls, followed by a roasted duck on rice with bean sprouts, and for dessert, a honey-glazed baked banana. Luke opted for a noodle soup, followed by Gong Bao chicken as his main course, and he also chose a honey-glazed baked banana for dessert. Mr Bo now wore an honest and noticeably more relaxed smile as he took their menus and the bowl of rice wine away before departing.

“Is this better?” Luke inquired, placing his hands on the round table.

“Much better,” Scott confirmed, feeling satisfied.

“As you say,” his date replied.

“Don’t you think so?”

Luke shrugged. “It’s normal for me to eat alone. I don’t want to be observed.”

“But it’s okay in the cafeteria, isn’t it?” the werewolf countered.

“That’s unavoidable. Besides, you’re right next to me. It’s different.” The Brit flushed slightly and cleared his throat again. “Just forget what I said, okay?”

Scott had to suppress a smile. There was that sweet Luke again, gentle and shy. This soft core hidden beneath the hard and snobbish exterior. He wondered if this other persona was merely a protective shell, shielding the vulnerable boy who resided within.

“Isn’t it like that here too?” he asked.

“This is different. It’s a… a date, and I just didn’t want to mess it up, alright? No one needs to know what I do in my free time and with whom. I tried to keep it that way with Adriel back then.” His eyebrows knitted together as he spoke, and he closed his mouth just as Mr Bo returned with the starters and the jasmine tea. He wished them a good appetite, and Scott was handed ordinary cutlery before the man disappeared again.

The werewolf briefly considered bringing up Adriel’s name, but he didn’t want to ruin their first date, which was undoubtedly what this was. Luke seemed a bit calmer and more reserved now as he began eating his soup.

“Do you actually miss home?” he asked instead, trying a spring roll that tasted particularly good today.

“A little,” Luke admitted quietly. “Beacon Hills is not Cambridge, just as it’s not Cambridgeshire. I miss the smell of early morning rain, the vast and lush green fields, and even London a bit. The regular chime of Big Ben, fresh scones with clotted cream, and a cup of freshly brewed Earl Grey.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Not that Beacon Hills doesn’t have its charms. The woods are beautiful, and it’s peaceful here. Especially with you living here.” The last part came out as a mumble, causing Scott to chuckle softly.

“You know that’s sweet, right?” he said, grinning.

“Sweet is just the little sister of crap, you know?” Luke shot back with a shy grin. Then he grew serious again, adding, “I also wanted to see the place where Mom died. After all, this is where it happened.”

Suddenly, the light mood evaporated. Scott chewed on his second spring roll, giving Luke the necessary time to gather himself. It was clear that discussing this topic was difficult for the Brit. The Alpha had no intention of pushing further.

“It’s just strange. I stood by the gravestone and felt sad, even though I didn’t really know her. My mother was a stranger to me. She never reached out or showed any interest in me. Dad was against me contacting her, anyway. I don’t know what happened after I was born, but it must have been something significant.” Luke straightened up a bit, a sad smile appearing on his face. “He once compared her to a Jaguar: beautiful but very dangerous and unpredictable. When I asked him what he meant by that, I was laughed at.”

Scott watched as Luke finished the last of his soup and turned his attention to the jasmine tea. To him, this weapons magnate—or whatever one might classify Daniel Taylor as—sounded like a distant, reserved person who had probably seen through Kate. It would have been wrong to enlighten his son about her, but leaving him in the dark was equally inappropriate. The longing for Kate, or rather her recognition, was written all over Luke’s face.

“Did your father ever let another woman close?” Scott sipped his Coke, trying to steer the conversation away from Kate.

“No. There was a woman, this Grace, but he got rid of her pretty quickly. I think I only saw her twice. Dad mostly keeps me out of his private life. We hardly see each other. He’s usually away, and when he’s home, he’s buried in work or pursuing other hobbies, like completing his stamp collection, golf, cricket, or hunting, depending on the season. Or he throws some party where a bunch of rich old geezers get off on comparing bank balances.” Luke suddenly laughed. “I vividly remember this Richard Morgan, some investment banker, falling off his horse during a fox hunt because his horse got spooked by Hakim. The look on his face was priceless.”

Scott was surprised that Luke was now being so open about himself. The restaurant was still sparsely populated, but the first guests had begun to trickle in. Either the Brit was willfully ignoring this fact, or he simply didn’t care, which was in stark contrast to his earlier statements.

They brought out the main course while they continued chatting about all sorts of things. The roast duck tasted just as excellent as the spring rolls. Scott devoured his food, all under the amused watch of Luke.

“By the way, I’m supposed to send your mother regards from Jonathan. He’d really appreciate the recipe for her pancakes. My raving about them seemed to pique his curiosity,” he said, between bites of chicken.

“Really? Mum mentioned to me again that they’re quite ordinary.”

“Of course, do you think I’d lie? Jonathan is a good cook, but he’s never made pancakes as good as hers.”

“You like this Jonathan, don’t you?” Scott noticed how Luke’s posture changed slightly again. He became calmer, more relaxed, and at the same time appeared a bit happy and even proud. His grey-green eyes radiated a certain warmth as he nodded slightly.

“Jonathan has known me since I was little. He’s an excellent butler and worked for Dad long before I was born. In the 25 or 30 years he’s been with us, there hasn’t been a single day he hasn’t satisfied my father and me.” Luke sipped from his cup and rubbed his shoulder. “He’s looked after me, comforted me, and has been there for me when I needed him. That’s not part of his job description. Jonathan is one of the few people I would trust Hakim with. He’s like Alfred to Bruce Wayne.”

Scott recalled the time when Stiles and he had rummaged through that school bus because they thought it had killed the driver, but it had been Peter. His best friend had made a similar Batman and Robin comparison. In one respect, Luke and Stiles would complement each other well: their penchant for superheroes.

“Jonathan is more than just a butler to me. He’s the one who’s accompanied me to my games, to cross-country races, and has supported me through problems I couldn’t solve on my own. He was hardly ever sick and even during those times, he was diligent and focused on fulfilling his duties, and he knows almost everything about me. He even knows about you.” Luke’s eyes began to shine at the mention of this fact.

“Is that good or bad?” Scott asked. Even a blind person could see how much his companion cared for this Jonathan. That made the werewolf doubt whether Luke was even capable of being such a jerk. Hadn’t he experienced it himself…

“Jonathan would never allow himself to judge; that would be unprofessional, but I could tell: He was happy. I know him that well. You’ll get to know him anyway when you stay over at mine.” Luke's heartbeat noticeably quickened. “If you stay over,” he quickly corrected himself.

This was the moment Scott had to decide. Did he want to stay over at Luke’s? What would they do? He hadn’t spent the night at Allison’s very often, as it had become too dangerous at one point—first because of her parents, then Gerard, later all three of them, and in the end, they had broken up.

He could delay the decision a bit longer, as dessert arrived. Scott chewed thoughtfully on his piece of banana. What were the pros and cons? He had gone through all the advantages and disadvantages with Stiles again and felt rather silly about it in hindsight. Pro and con lists were for other matters. The pros had clearly outweighed the cons. Stiles’ advice ultimately boiled down to Scott simply listening to his heart, and if he did that, the answer was already clear.

“If it’s not too much trouble?”

Luke’s face lit up, practically beaming. “What are you talking about? Not at all! I’ve already instructed Jonathan to make the guest room ready for you. You just need to tell me what you want for breakfast. We could stay up all night playing games or watching a movie, or a series, or I don’t know…” The advantages of an overnight stay were elaborated upon by the Alpha with enthusiasm.

“I’ll pay, then we’ll go, yeah? If you need something to sleep in, I have plenty of stuff at home that should fit you.” Luke eagerly and far less decorously devoured his banana and leaned back in his chair to wave into the kitchen.

As Scott watched him, a profound realization hit him: This boy, who was now joyfully handing Mister Bo his credit card, had become important to him in just five days. He felt for him, shared in his joy, and those were exactly the feelings that Stiles shared with Derek, Allison with Isaac, and Lydia with Aiden. All three formed a team, and one part could moderate the other. Stiles was able to rein Derek in, Allison coaxed Isaac out of his shell, and Lydia gave Aiden a more appealing image. He had accomplished all three things with Luke. Was that just imagination? Wishful thinking? A daydream?

“Scott? Shall we go?” Luke was already standing and holding out his jacket to him.

“Sure,” he replied with a smile as he slipped into the garment.

No, the date had not been a failure; on the contrary. He had managed to penetrate that tough, conceited, and quirky exterior and coax out the good core within Luke. This impression was further strengthened when Luke hesitantly reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly. They had started the day with a small dispute and were now heading outside together, and Scott didn’t need to look away to notice how happy the Brit was. Their fingers intertwined as they left the restaurant. None of the few guests paid them any attention; only Mister Bo hurried over once more, holding the door open for them with an honest smile. The physical contact felt right and good. An L and an A, and the Alpha was certain that the boy beside him hoped that an S and an M could shine through the scar. For the first time since his breakup with Allison, Scott no longer felt empty inside. An emptiness that no one could fill, except for the young man walking beside him.

“Scott?” Luke lisped softly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you.”

Before Scott could respond, he was kissed—quickly and fleetingly.

“What was that for?” he asked, taken aback.

“Something you wouldn’t understand. I won’t explain it either, just… thank you for being you.” With that, Luke pulled him into the car and quickly started the engine. Internally, Scott smiled and left it at that. He would endure even in the lion's den, alongside Gerard, because every single second was worth it.

Chapter Text

Luke remained surprisingly calm as they made their way to his flat. An occasional nod and monosyllabic responses were all Scott received when he tried to engage him in conversation. Yet, it was unmistakable how much the Brit was enjoying himself. He was practically glowing, and both his heartbeat and breath were erratic and wild.

The werewolf's thoughts drifted as he watched the light from the passing street lamps. Something within him was changing at a rapid pace. It felt almost as if he was yearning for Luke's closeness and affection. Both aspects of him, the human and the werewolf, wanted to spend time with this boy. These feelings were not unfamiliar—he had felt similarly about the last member of the Argent family, though far less intensely. When he compared the two states, it seemed that with Allison, it was like a small flickering flame warming him from within, the sunlight that tingled on his skin; with Luke, however…

Scott listened deeply to himself. The moment he thought of the Brit, he felt a burning sensation throughout his body, a fire that threatened to consume him, dangerous yet beautiful. Every single second was unique. He was able to tame this fire; it didn't scorch him; on the contrary, it protected him.

Luke's gaze held far more than mere infatuation or desire for his body, the shell that was now quite appealing. No, the dark blonde loved him, and it had to be an all-consuming love if he changed his mind so quickly, based solely on Scott's admonition. Was this how one felt about their soulmate?

“We’re here,” Luke pulled him out of his inner thoughts. “Do you have anything?” He sounded concerned.

“No,” Scott replied, blinking several times to reorient himself to reality.

“Okay.” The doubtful look on his date's face spoke volumes, yet no further questions were asked. Instead, he led the Alpha back through the underground garage and up to Taylor's flat.

“I sent Grandpa to the theatre with his carer today. Jonathan has the day off but is on standby. So, we’re alone,” he explained casually as he unlocked the door. “But he’s prepared everything.”

The question of what the butler had prepared caught in Scott's throat, as Luke took his hand and pulled him into his room. There, several bowls of snacks, various sodas, cookies, and a wide selection of Blu-rays were neatly stacked on the table in front of the sofa.

“He also made some healthy stuff, but that's in the fridge. I can definitely do without veggie sticks and dips, unless you’re in the mood for them.” Luke placed the key on his desk, shed his jacket and sneakers—both landing beside and on the office chair—and then turned back to Scott: “Make yourself at home, Scott.”

This part of the evening seemed to have been meticulously planned. Scott didn’t have to do anything except choose a film and some snacks. He passed on the cookies in favour of the homemade chips and the popcorn, which tasted distinctly fresher than the microwave kind. He instinctively settled on a Detective Conan film, and he knew he had made the right choice when Luke nearly tumbled over himself to put the Blu-ray in.

“This one’s supposed to be amazing. Makoto has a big role in it,” the Brit explained enthusiastically.

“Makoto?” Scott shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.

“Makoto Kyogoku is the undefeated champ of karate. He’s won 400 competitions in a row.” His eyes practically sparkled as he began to give Scott a brief overview of the Detective Conan fandom.

“I thought Dragon Ball was your favourite anime?”

“It is, but I consume everything I can get. I love Pokémon and Digimon just as much as Detective Conan and Kaito Kid.” With that, Luke dropped down beside Scott and grabbed the remote. “This is going to be the best evening in months!”

In no time, his host was in his element. Every single scene was followed and analysed. He looked like a little boy at the premiere of his favourite film in the cinema. While this enthusiasm wasn’t as contagious as promised, Scott had to admit that the next hour and a half was far less boring than he had anticipated. This might have also been due to the fact that Luke had inched closer to him and eventually rested his head on the werewolf’s shoulder. Scott had wrapped his arm around Luke, pulling him even closer.

It was crazy: Scott was sitting with a classmate he had known for only five days in his room, watching an entirely unfamiliar foreign film, cuddling with someone he had previously considered a stranger in a way that felt as familiar as a long-term relationship, and he was just as much in love with him. Unconsciously, the L-word circled through his thoughts. He loved Luke, no doubt about it. Why the boy had lied about his surname seemed utterly irrelevant at that moment. He didn’t even care whether the boy resting on his shoulder was his soulmate or not: Scott felt happy in his presence and could forget his worries.

“Makoto reminds me of myself,” Luke said during the scene where the karate fighter tied his girlfriend to his back and then took down the other champ.

“But you’re neither brown nor black-haired, nor do you wear glasses,” Scott teased, earning himself a mock glare.

“Of course we don’t look alike—Makoto is Japanese.” He lifted his head to shake it, only to immediately snuggle back against Scott. “Makoto does everything for Sonoko, even gives up his dream of competing in the tournament and fighting because he’s afraid she might get hurt.”

“Yet he just beat the other guy up?” the Alpha countered.

“Only after Kaito cut the bracelet. You’re missing the message behind it,” Luke replied.

“What message?”

Luke turned his head again so he could look up at Scott, giving him a warm glance. “He loves her. Even when he was bleeding, his biggest concern was whether she was okay, and when he untied her, he apologised for the strap being too tight. He loves her so much…”

Before Scott could react, the Brit was already at eye level, sealing his lips with a kiss. Luke’s hands rested on his shoulders as he shifted his position, finding a place on Scott’s lap. The werewolf was startled at first, but that feeling quickly faded as he returned the kiss—a pure, innocent, and above all, loving gesture.

“I would love to be your Makoto,” Luke whispered as he pulled back just a few millimetres. “Not that you need a strong fighter by your side, but I’d tie you to my back and fight for you just the same.”

That was the strangest yet simultaneously most beautiful declaration of love Scott had ever received. Another hasty kiss followed, and Luke’s cheeks flushed as he tangled his fingers in Scott’s shirt. As he savoured this personal and intimate moment, something tangible shifted within the werewolf. A connection was slowly forming and solidifying. Automatically, he wrapped his arms around Luke, leaning into the gesture. He had just told him, albeit indirectly, that he loved him; the Brit had taken the first step, and the way he clung to him made it clear he meant it.

This time, Scott broke the kiss, and he could see a pair of excited grey-green eyes, almost panicking as they tried to avoid his gaze. Luke was so different from Allison: selfish, arrogant, egotistical, mean, yet soft, vulnerable, tender, and shy. Two opposing universes that shouldn’t have existed at all, yet here they were.

“Did you just tell me you love me?” he asked softly.

“P-Perhaps?” the dark blonde replied quietly. “Was it too soon?”

“It was early…” Scott confirmed, watching as Luke seemed to buckle in his arms. “But it was also right.” With that, he took the initiative and demanded another kiss.

Now it was Luke who was surprised, his eyes wide open before they fluttered shut as he snuggled against the Alpha. No, this boy couldn’t possibly be one of Gerard’s tools. He might be a good actor, but his feelings were genuine. Scott would have seen through a lie.

The loss of control from last time didn’t return; on the contrary, his inner balance came back. The emptiness he had felt since breaking up with Allison gradually receded into the background. The vacuum in his heart began to fill, and he pressed his chest toward Luke, who rested his hand there. Luke’s lips tasted of chips, popcorn, and chocolate—an awful combination, yet Scott couldn’t imagine ever having tasted anything better in his life.

"You have such beautiful eyes, Scott," the Brit whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "A dark brown that resembles To’ak chocolate: sweet yet tinged with a hint of bitterness." He pressed another kiss to the corner of Scott's mouth and then smiled dreamily. "I could lose myself in that darkness and let myself drift in an ocean of shadows, without fear of being swallowed by it."

To be honest, Scott didn't quite know how to respond. He was a teenager who usually thought about other things, yet every single syllable that fell from Luke's lips sounded so beautiful that he wanted to hear more. It felt impossible to fall in love so quickly, yet it was happening right now.

"I…" he opened his mouth and promptly shut it again. What does one say to something like that? The werewolf had never been particularly good at expressing his feelings, especially not to a boy. He had never been in this situation before. Thousands of thoughts raced through his mind, sentences he would soon dismiss, words that could never encapsulate what he felt.

"You…?" Luke tilted his head, looking at him expectantly yet encouragingly.

The Alpha pondered for a moment before deciding to simply speak the truth: "I don't know what to say. That was a lot and so fast all at once, but it feels right. I like you too, a lot actually, and I’m really happy right now."

"You like me a lot?" A smirk appeared on Luke's face. "I think I’ll take that as a positive reaction to my statement, hmm?"

"You can," Scott confirmed with a nod.

"But you do realise what that means, right?"

"Hmm?"

"That you won't have to eat cafeteria food from now on."

Scott needed a moment to grasp what Luke meant before he burst out laughing. The last remnants of tension fell away from the Brit, and he joined in the laughter. He hadn't even thought of that, and it wasn't important to the werewolf, but it was a chance to treat his stomach well and save money he desperately needed.

"Best make a list of your personal food preferences so Jonathan knows what to prepare for you," Luke said, straightening up and stealing one last kiss before sliding off Scott's lap, standing up, and stretching.

"But I don't want to cause any trouble; that would be rude!" protested the werewolf.

"Jonathan enjoys cooking, and he'll like you just as much as he likes me. He always has," the dark blonde brushed aside Scott's concerns.

"I'll just eat whatever you eat."

"Well, I hope you like Chinese," Luke said suddenly serious, rubbing his left arm awkwardly. "Do you want to sleep over? I mean, it’s not like we haven’t already done more." He nodded towards the bed, adorned with Spider-Man bedding. "The guest room is just as well set up, don’t worry. Only if you don’t want to, of course. The bedding is made from Egyptian silk with at least fifty million threads, handwoven. It’s like sleeping on a cloud."

"I want to," Scott replied immediately. "Just… it’s a bit too early for something else." Had he really said that? Why? In his last relationship, he would have given anything to do more than just hold hands on the first date, and here…

"I wouldn’t have wanted that either; this is too precious to me," Luke shrugged and cleared his throat. "You already know where the bathroom is. Jonathan has laid out a toothbrush for you, as well as some of my sleepwear. Just tell me what you’d like for breakfast, and I’ll write it down for him."

"Um, okay?" That meant his date was already assuming an overnight stay, even more than he initially thought. For a moment, the suspicion of a trap resurfaced, but the thought of holding Luke close as he fell asleep banished that notion. "I don’t know? What do you usually have for breakfast?"

"We have everything here, starting with porridge, rolls, scrambled eggs, bacon, various jams—just say what you want. Otherwise, he’ll get it tomorrow."

"A perfectly normal breakfast?" Scott ventured cautiously.

"You just let him know tomorrow, shall we do it that way?" Without waiting for a response, Luke grabbed the leftovers and disappeared from the room.

In the meantime, Scott took the opportunity to brush his teeth and change out of his clothes. Everything had indeed been neatly prepared: a pair of thin black joggers and a white shirt, both feeling surprisingly comfortable, lay ready on the sink. So he really was going to stay over at Luke’s. It occurred to him that he should let his mother know he wouldn’t be coming home today. He did so immediately with a quick message on his phone:

"Mom, I’m staying over at a friend’s tonight—don’t worry, I’ll be home tomorrow. Love you, Scott."

As he turned around, he bumped into Luke, who was dressed in a Green Lantern pyjama set. The smitten smile from earlier was still evident on his face, and he reached out aimlessly as he gazed at Scott until he finally managed to grab his toothbrush on the second attempt.

"Such a simple look suits you," he remarked, turning his attention to his dental hygiene.

"And what if I wanted a pyjama set like yours?" the werewolf teased.

"Clothes cupboard, top shelf," the Brit mumbled.

"Alright then," Scott laughed and made his way back to the bedroom. He cautiously felt the bed linen, which indeed felt significantly softer and finer than his own at home.

He was about to share a bed with a boy. He had done that several times with Stiles, without any ulterior motives, but this was an entirely different situation. Stiles was his best friend—Luke was something else entirely.

"Spidey doesn’t bite," came a giggle from behind him.

"I… I wasn’t thinking that at all!"

A pair of arms wrapped around him, and he was gently kissed on the nape of his neck. "I know. Don’t worry, I don’t bite either."

Scott had to suppress a soft, contented sigh. A pleasant warmth manifested in his chest, which intensified as Luke guided him into bed. Luke’s last glance wandered to the picture on his bedside table, featuring a strange man and his dog, before he nestled back against the werewolf and looked up at him. "May I?" he asked, nodding towards Luke's chest.

"What do you want?"

"To use you as a pillow?"

"Um… sure?"

No sooner had the last letter left his lips than he felt a comforting weight on his chest, coming from Luke's head. He awkwardly fumbled for a small remote control to dim the ceiling light, so that a normal person could barely see anything, and then he took one of Scott's hands, intertwining their fingers.

"Scott?" came Luke's voice from the darkness.

"Hm?"

"Good night, and thanks again for being here."

With that, Luke closed his eyes and slowly drifted off, soothed by Scott's gentle touch. Five whole days and a date had passed, and here he was already in the lion's den. Five simple days, filled with ups and downs. Despite the unfamiliar surroundings and the danger posed by Gerard, even though it seemed that no one else was in the apartment besides the two of them, the werewolf was completely at ease. Luke was not only pleasantly warm; he radiated warmth and security, not the coldness and stubbornness he exhibited towards others. Even though Scott intended to stay alert, he began to doze off after about half an hour, sleeping like a log despite the extra weight resting on him. A complicated and awkward "I love you," but it had worked.

Chapter Text

Stiles had intended to spend the afternoon productively, pondering the question of whether Luke had been an Argent by birth or if he was actually a descendant of the Taylor family. Despite needing the information, he had been unable to obtain any precise details about Grandfather Gerard's favourite grandson. He lacked the legitimacy to request such information – he was neither a father, nor a mother, nor a legal guardian. The English authorities proved to be far less cooperative than he had anticipated. Instead of burying his head in the sand, he had driven to Chris's place, where he now sat at the dining table with a cola in front of him, while his host enjoyed a beer.

"I might have liked a beer, too," Stiles grumbled, sipping from his glass.

"You're still too young for that," Allison's father chuckled, folding his hands on the table. "You mentioned something about Luke on the phone," he redirected the conversation without preamble to the real reason for Stiles' visit.

"Right. You wouldn’t know whether he was an Argent at birth and only later took on his father's name, would you? According to English law, parents can jointly decide, or alternatively a single parent can decide, which surname ultimately goes on the birth certificate."

Stiles could see Chris's right eyebrow twitching betrayingly as he stroked his three-day stubble. After a brief sip of beer, the former hunter cleared his throat and scratched his chin.

"That's an unusual question – why are you interested in it?"

So Allison hadn’t told him anything about her suspicions, and Derek and Chris were not the best of friends, so Stiles felt uncertain about how much he should reveal. This wasn’t just about Luke; it also concerned Scott. The sheriff's son found it hard to gauge how Chris viewed his nephew as a threat and what consequences he might draw from that.

"Curiosity, interest, boredom," he listed, trying not to reveal too much.

Chris remained silent, studying Stiles. It was clear to see that he was hesitating. After a lengthy pause, during which both men finished off their bottles or glasses, Allison's father finally spoke up: "To be honest, I don’t know. The situation with Luke was very complicated, and it’s a long story."

"I have time."

"Alright then." Chris sighed and absentmindedly twirled his glass in his hands. "Luke wasn't exactly a wanted child. My father pressured Kate into dating that Daniel Taylor."

"So your father arranged it," Stiles concluded.

"Dad was keen to set her up with him. He met him through work and probably had the foresight even back then to see that this man would become much more than he was at that time." Allison's father shrugged, avoiding Stiles' gaze.

"I know Daniel Taylor's background, but it's impossible to find out anything about Luke; his father keeps him well shielded from the public. The boy is practically like a shadow, he doesn't really exist."

"I can imagine. Kate once brought Daniel home. He was polite, reserved, and surprisingly condescending. In his eyes, we were all dirt, Kate excluded." Chris stood up and glanced at Stiles' empty cola glass. "Do you want more?"

"Yes, please."

As his companion began to refill the beer and cola, Stiles mentally went through the next steps and questions he had for him. Chris was hiding something from him, that much was clear from the start of their conversation. He seemed genuinely uncomfortable discussing his nephew. Hadn't Scott mentioned that Victoria and he had intended to take Luke in? Should he confront him with that?

Chris set the glass down in front of Stiles and sat back down, leaving his beer in the bottle this time. He crossed his legs under the table and folded his arms across his chest. His gaze still avoided Stiles', but he seamlessly picked up where they had left off:

"When she got pregnant, my father forced her to have Luke. She actually wanted to have an abortion, as he would ruin her future. She was just so young back then, and even though Daniel was already well-off at that time… let's just say, Kate was never good at taking responsibility, especially not for a human being."

"I already know that, Chris – Allison picked up on it too. I need other information, things I can work with. What was their relationship like, and how did Gerard manage to wrap Luke around his little finger? As far as I know, Daniel wasn't particularly thrilled about this arrangement, was he?"

Stiles could see Chris straighten up a bit in his chair and take another sip of his beer. He stroked his cheek again, seeming to grapple with his thoughts. The sheriff's son was getting closer to the interesting points in Luke's life.

"Luke idolised Kate, just as he seems to do with my father. He is his favourite. Dad visited him regularly and occasionally attended his sporting events. A little boy or a teenager whose father is hardly ever home, and whose only constant in life is probably a changing staff, will cling to the piece of family that is offered to him. Kate still wanted nothing to do with him. The boy sent her letters often, pictures of himself, newspaper clippings, his report cards; she didn't even look at them."

"But you…" the sheriff’s son prompted.

"When he was six years old, barely able to write properly, he wrote to her asking if she would visit him. He had his first youth team football match in two weeks, and he would be all alone." Chris bit his lip and audibly ground his teeth. "When he was nine, he asked her once if Mummy was angry with him because she didn’t respond. He missed her and loved her very much."

"Do you think he was or is unhappy at home?" Stiles inquired.

"I don’t know, Stiles. My father shielded him just as well. He probably couldn’t intercept all the letters. You know, Victoria and I would have liked to take him in. Another child in the house… it would have worked out."

"But Gerard was against it?"

"Both he and Kate. She simply wanted nothing to do with him. My sister once called Luke the biggest mistake of her life." Chris took a large gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Do you think Gerard has made him into a hunter?" Stiles put forward his next suspicion.

"Is that what you think?"

"I suspect so. He provoked Jackson to the point of fury, and Scott mentioned that Luke made some ambiguous remarks as well. He has the physical attributes; he’s extremely athletic and seems to possess the necessary coldness." Chris's expression darkened with each word, prompting Stiles to hastily add, "Exceptions confirm the rule, of course."

"From the way you describe him, he seems to take after Kate quite a bit." The former hunter's features relaxed slightly as he spoke. "It could be, but that would be unusual."

"Unusual?"

"You need to understand, there’s a rule in our family: our sons are raised to be soldiers, our daughters to be leaders. Allison should have been my father's first choice, not Luke. Even though he has certainly broken with tradition, as we know from last year, he has always believed in this mindset. It’s tied to the founding of our branch of the family."

"But it would explain why he left Victoria and you alone. Allison can look back on a childhood free from supernatural phenomena that would actively affect her. I suspect that Luke is not just Grandpa's little favourite because he was or is his stepping stone to a significantly more pleasant life. Which brings us to a much more interesting question: Do you know if there was an accident in Luke's past?"

Chris listened intently to Stiles' words, a furrow forming on his brow at the question. "How did you come to that conclusion?"

"Because he has a scar on his side, and I'm interested in that," Stiles bent the truth a little. That wasn't even a lie. He was just skillfully omitting the real reason behind his interest, and truth, as is well known, is a very subjective thing.

"Scars can come from all sorts of things, Stiles, and they're not exactly unusual, are they?" Allison's father narrowed his eyes slightly.

"But every scar tells a story. I'm just very interested in Luke's past. If you know anything, please… it's important, very important. Especially whether his last name is Argent or Taylor or ever was. Anything you know could help," the sheriff's son urged.

His companion ran his tongue over his lips, and it was clear he was grappling with the question. Chris's gaze wandered from Stiles to the table, to his beer, and then back again. He probably viewed the whole matter as an internal family issue, and judging by his demeanor, he was also feeling guilty about it.

"Unfortunately, I can't answer that question for you, Stiles," his interlocutor sighed, burying any hopes of making progress. "But I do have something that might help you." With that, he stood up and briefly disappeared, returning with a thin brown leather folder that he handed over to Stiles.

"What is this?" Stiles asked.

"Kate's personal documents." Chris sat down again and drained his beer in large gulps.

"Does it include Luke's birth certificate?" Stiles asked hopefully.

"No – but with her certificate, you might be able to find information about him, right?"

"Of course! I already know how!" It was a close call; it almost seemed like Stiles would throw his arms around Chris in gratitude. He already had a plan forming in his mind. For good measure, he opened the folder and flipped through it. What he needed was now in his hands. The rest would be a piece of cake.

"Stiles?"

"Hm?" He looked up and caught Chris's gaze for the first time. It was a mixture of concern, guilt, and a hint of sadness.

"You're looking for all this for a specific reason. Allison tried to hide it from me, but I could tell something was weighing on her. It's about Scott, isn’t it?"

"And if it is?" Stiles didn't want to make it easy for the older man.

Chris sighed quietly and tapped his fingers on the table. "You know how my father can be. He uses the people around him for his own purposes, manipulates them, and then discards them as soon as they’ve outlived their usefulness."

"What are you trying to say? That this is all part of a grand plan by Gerard?" Stiles raised his eyebrows in surprise. He had come to the same conclusion, but even Gerard Argent couldn't do anything against cosmic laws or manipulate them for his own ends. A soul mark was something that lay outside his sphere of influence.

“He will certainly want to take advantage of this. His thirst for revenge has always been overwhelming. I can imagine that he wants to use Luke for that purpose. Scott did this to him, and he certainly hasn’t forgiven him.”

“I think so too, but someone like your father is not capable of understanding what it truly means to feel love and affection for someone. I know Scott better than you do, better than Isaac, and even better than Allison – he may sometimes be very naïve, but he’s not stupid. He knows how to look after himself.”

Stiles decided to come clean with Chris. If he was withholding information, perhaps this would encourage him to open up.

“I believe that Luke is Scott’s soulmate, and vice versa. The little I’ve seen of him has been enough to suggest that conclusion. Luke’s eyes are similar to Kate’s: they are full of indifference, coldness, and a hunger for power. However, unlike hers, they also contain something like love, security, and longing. The way he looks at Scott and behaves towards him – he seems like a different person.”

His conversation partner listened patiently, although a furrow formed on his forehead towards the end. “So you really think he’s in love with Scott? The boy doesn’t even like other boys, does he? I mean, with Allison…”

“That’s not my concern. I only know that Scott seems to feel similarly towards him, and that’s despite the fact that they’ve known each other for less than five days. Luke shared his food with him, picked him up from home… they fit perfectly together; just like soulmates do. They completed the obstacle course in record time, even though Luke is just a regular human. Scott had never played football before, and yet it looked like he had been raised with a ball at his feet all his life.” Stiles scratched his nose and paused to give his conversation partner a chance to respond.

“If that’s the case, then he should have a soulmate mark with Scott’s initials, right? I mean, it can’t be that hard to find out. There are very few people who never get one.” Chris tilted his head. “Unless…”

“According to him, Luke’s soulmate mark is covered by his scar. A scar he has been carrying for quite some time. Scott has had a soulmate mark for two years: an L and an A – Luke Argent. Do you understand why I’m so interested in his past?”

Allison’s father rubbed his thumb over his mouth and pondered, using the time to finish the last of his cola. “But your theory has a flaw, Stiles.”

“Does it? Please enlighten me.”

“Luke must have seen his mark at some point, right? Besides, if Scott got his at 15, shouldn’t it have appeared at the same time for him? Soulmate marks appear simultaneously, don’t they?”

Stiles shook his head. “No, as far as I’m aware, they don’t.” He had done extensive research online in recent days, including forums and scientific articles. “If the wound was inflicted beforehand, it can delay the appearance of the mark in the other partner. There are also certain factors that can help determine where the mark appears on someone. For example, my mother had my dad’s initials near her left breast, just like my grandmother and grandfather. A clustering of a particular spot in the family seems to suggest that the mark manifests there rather than elsewhere.” An idea struck him. “Where did Kate have her soulmate mark?”

“‘That…’ Chris pushed the empty beer bottle aside. ‘Are you absolutely sure that such a clustering exists? This isn’t just a figment of your imagination or a lie, is it?’

‘No. I can provide you with empirical data and statistics, entire scholarly articles if you want. Why?’

Stiles watched as the older man slowly ran his hand over the spot where Luke’s scar was located. ‘Around here, just like my father and me. Victoria had hers on her wrist.’

‘Yes, and Allison had hers from Isaac too. There’s no real pattern to be found, nor is there any indication of whether the position of the mark is more influenced by the mother’s genes or the father’s. There are hints, and the fact that you all seem to have your marks there suggests that Allison was just an outlier. Of course, I could be wrong,’ Stilinski Junior raised his hands. ‘But it means that Luke, at least in that regard, hasn’t lied.’

‘But he still can’t find his soulmate, can he?’ Chris asked, intrigued.

‘That’s not entirely clear either. Your father told him that if he finds his soulmate and they both fall in love, then the mark would appear through the scar.’

‘You said they were both in love, right? So why hasn’t it appeared?’

‘I don’t know myself. Maybe it’s just a lie on Gerard’s part? There are so many factors that influence all of this. Such motifs have been explored in literature, but those were more romanticised stories. I really couldn’t find much on the subject.’

His conversation partner shrugged. ‘If you’re right, that will become clear soon enough.’

‘Yes, but I’d like to be prepared and hope that Scott has enough influence on Luke to isolate him from your father. Even if he’s not a hunter and has nothing to do with your family’s history, he would still be a valuable ally, as he’s likely aware of his benefactor’s plans. You have no idea what he’s planning, do you?’

‘No,’ was the short response that followed. ‘And I don’t want to know. As long as he leaves Allison and me alone, I don’t feel compelled to take any action. We’ve moved on from that life.’

‘Your daughter’s mate is a werewolf,’ the sheriff’s son pointed out.

‘And lives here too, I know. So far, Dad hasn’t taken any action against him, and besides, Isaac has an alpha who is responsible for him.’ Chris sounded more than just reserved.

‘And what if his alpha switches sides? What then? Have you thought about that, hmm?’

‘Scott would never do anything to Allison or Isaac. I’ll only take action if the situation gets out of control.’

‘What if it’s already too late by then?’

The expression on the former hunter's face made it clear that he would not budge from his position. That was a shame, but understandable. Moreover, Chris had been very helpful to him today. The death of Victoria still weighed heavily on him. He had moved past blaming Derek, and they had worked together more than once in the past, but at the end of the day, there were still certain tensions between them. It was also pointless to continue questioning him about Kate, such as what had happened to her soulmate or whether she had found him. He would save that for another time.

“Anyway, thanks, Chris, you’ve really helped me.”

“Don’t mention it.” His voice was noticeably cooler now as he escorted him to the door and politely said goodbye.

Stiles dialled Derek’s number and waited for him to pick up. The Alpha had chosen to stay with Boyd and Erica, who were on the road to recovery but still didn’t want or couldn’t talk about what they had experienced. The emotional wounds inflicted on them were still too fresh.

“Stiles?” he could hear the werewolf's voice on the other end.

“Hey, babe – can you come and pick me up? I’m done.”

“Sure. And what did you find out?”

“I’ll tell you later. But I need you for something afterwards, or rather your charming and incredibly masculine voice.”

“What?”

“Just hurry up, okay? Love you!” With that, Stiles hung up and smiled triumphantly: he was on the trail of the mystery that was Luke Taylor and was confident that his suspicion was not misplaced.

Chapter Text

How they had ended up in this position, Scott couldn't say, but Luke was cuddled up against him, one hand slipped under his shirt, his face nestled in the crook of his neck. In return, Scott had wrapped his arm around him. There was something off about this scene, but the werewolf couldn't quite put his finger on it. It felt so foreign yet so familiar.

"I don't think I've ever seen such a beautiful skin tone as yours, Scott," the dark blonde murmured, tracing the contours of his chest muscles with his fingertip, nearly taking his breath away. Scott sucked in his stomach and breathed in and out in short gasps. The touch was so intense, even more so than their kisses.

"D-Do you really think so?" stammered the Alpha, struggling not to bite his lower lip.

"Of course," came the giggling reply. "You are what I love wholeheartedly, even more than Hakim. The perfect partner."

Scott was wrestling with himself. He could barely hold back the transformation. It had felt the same way when he was first on the brink of sleeping with Allison. He blinked several times, hoping his eye colour wouldn’t change, and positioned his arm in a way that wouldn’t hurt Luke with his claws. The werewolf wanted to get up, to break free, but he couldn’t. Something was holding him fast; like a chain binding him to the Brit.

"In China, there exists Yue Lao, the god of marriage and love. He binds two people together, on the night of their birth, with a red silk thread. They are eternally connected and will find each other, no matter how great the darkness in which they live." Luke's lips slowly wandered along Scott's neck, over the mole on his chin, until they stopped in front of his mouth. Grey-green met brown, breath mingled with breath, love met love. The dark blonde's gaze softened more than it ever had before. "Yue Lao has connected me with you, made me wait for you—17 long years I had to wait for you, and the moment I thought I would never find you, you suddenly appeared. My great love, my partner, my mate…"

With that, their lips met, and Scott felt like he was losing his mind. It felt as if his mouth was being alternately bathed in fire and ice. He could hardly breathe; his lungs burned, as did his face and every fibre of his body; as if he had been electrified. His eyes practically glowed, and he felt his claws pushing out from his fingers and his fangs emerging. He was on the verge of completely losing control.

Luke had placed his hands on Scott's shoulders and leaned into him. The kiss didn’t break, even when the braces met the fangs. Either it didn’t bother him, or the Brit wasn’t even aware of what was happening beneath him. The fact that he was looking deeply into Scott's eyes while kissing him seemed to contradict that.

"Do you think I’m afraid of you?" the Brit whispered, pulling back just a few millimetres. "Of the monster that lies beneath the surface?" Luke's hands wandered from Scott's shoulders, over his upper arms, to his fingers, which he intertwined with his own. Scott's claws rested on the pale skin of the human without causing any harm. Before he could glance down, he was kissed again, this time on the forehead.

"I am not afraid of you, Scott. We belong together; you could never hurt me, just as I could never hurt you. Love may be cruel, the worst feeling one can experience, but it is also the most beautiful at the same time."

"So you know?" The Alpha had begun to gently stroke the back of Luke's hand. It was a mystery to him why his voice didn’t fail him.

"I know that you are something special, something unique. You have managed to fill the emptiness in my heart, to dispel the vacuum that was there. Every moment with you is a gift, and I will never hurt you, Scott. When the mark shines through the scar, an S and M…" The Brit leaned down and rested his forehead against Scott's. "Then sorrow and pain are forgotten. I will always be there for you and I will always love you. Two parts of a whole, light and shadow, yin and yang, lacrosse captain and football captain – wolf and tiger."

The Alpha could no longer think clearly. He wanted to concentrate, but he was unable to do so. The tender kisses turned into passionate gestures driven by desire. His body reacted more strongly to Luke than he could have imagined. Both wolf and human merged in that moment into a single entity, surrendering to the intimacy. No worries, no troubles, no fears – Luke knew, and he loved him anyway; he had transformed and yet had not hurt him. They belonged together, just like Stiles and Derek, Allison and Isaac… mates.

Just as Luke had started to fidget with the waistband of Scott's sweatpants with his now-free fingers, he paused and looked up. He hesitated, even though he could clearly see that the werewolf wanted it too.

"It’s… it’s too soon. I don’t want to ruin this moment by falling on each other like two animals. I love you too much for that." With that, he returned to his original place by Scott's side and snuggled up to him again.

"You know that’s cruel?" the Alpha huffed, running one of his claws along Luke's cheek. Only his facial features had remained unchanged, human – otherwise, he resembled a werewolf.

"Who said I was sweet?" Luke grinned cheekily at him.

"I did." With that, Scott rested his cheek against the Brit's and cradled him again in his arms. "I know what lies behind this tough exterior."

"A Makoto Kyogoku?"

"A terribly vulnerable and shy boy," he dismissed his mate's objection. They were mates, he was now aware of that. No touch, no glance, no kiss had ever been as intense as today.

"Tell that to my father." Luke stroked along Scott's chest again and snuggled a little tighter against him. "I am none of that; in Camp Half-Blood, my father would be Ares. Warriors are not raised to show feelings."

"But you do, regularly. Even that Makoto did." The caressing was now noticeably more pleasant, gentler, and soothing than before. Scott could concentrate better again.

"I wasn't raised that way, and you are the only exception. For you, I will always remain your mate, your loving Luke, and in your arms, I can peacefully fall asleep because I know you will protect me. An old Chinese proverb says, 'You are a nobody until someone begins to love you,' and that is true."

"How do you know all this stuff, anyway?" Scott sat up a little to look down at Luke, who had already closed his eyes and was not moving.

"When you have everything, you long for something that is unattainable. I have used the little free time I have left for such things. It was more bearable to live the dream of one day finding my mate than to come to terms with the fact that I would have to remain alone forever."

"But you shouldn’t have to?"

"Was it ever as intense with Allison as it is with me? Did you feel this way after just five days with her? I would have been living a lie."

"And your name? My mate has the initials L and A, not L and T. Why did you lie to me?" Scott could see Luke's features hardening even with his eyes closed.

"Because…"

His mouth formed the words, moved, but Scott couldn't understand what his mate was saying. A loud knocking drowned out every other sound. It grew louder and louder. He thought his head would burst from the deafening noise hammering inside it. The scene slipped away from him; Luke pulled away, and then, suddenly, he was staring at the ceiling of the room, breathing heavily. It took him a moment to comprehend what had happened: he had been dreaming.

Chapter Text

The knocking grew more insistent. Scott noticed something warm and soft against him, and a quick glance at his chest revealed Luke, who was actually using him as a pillow and had liberally dribbled some drool onto his shirt. He also seemed to notice the knocking, as he squinted and frowned.

“What the hell is that?” murmured the Brit, half-asleep.

“Master Luke,” came a voice from outside the closed door.

That Master Luke shifted slightly, rubbing his cheek against Scott’s chest, still with his eyes closed, seemingly intent on ignoring the male voice from outside. His left hand wandered along Scott’s body, almost touching a rather intimate area, whether intentionally or not, when the knocking resumed, this time more forcefully.

“For heaven’s sake, just come in then,” grumbled Scott’s companion, yet still made no move to shift from his position. Not even when the door actually swung open, revealing a man in his late fifties with greying, slightly curly hair and a razor-sharp trimmed moustache. The stranger had a slightly sunken, already wrinkled face, dark grey eyes, and a straight nose. In terms of build, he could easily be described as gaunt. The unknown man’s attire seemed exceedingly overdone: a black waistcoat over a pristine white shirt, which was paired with a black bow tie at the collar. The matching black velvet trousers and shining patent leather shoes led Scott to think that his counterpart was about to attend a gala event or a wedding.

Patiently, the newcomer took a seat in front of their bed, hands clasped behind his back. He nodded slightly at Scott, who hastily pulled the duvet further over himself, especially over his intimate area, which had taken on a life of its own that morning, right over Luke’s hand, which lay just above.

“Master Luke,” he raised his voice again. “It’s important.”

“It can’t be that important,” Luke huffed sleepily. “We discussed the scenarios under which I should be woken, despite my visit.”

“We did,” the stranger confirmed.

“You haven’t found a Green Lantern ring, have you?”

“No, Master Luke.”

“Then the film studio hasn’t called yet, asking me to voice a character in Dragonball?”

“Not that either, Master Luke.”

“Does the Marvel film studio want me as the new Iron Man?”

“No, Master Luke.”

The entire situation was not only grotesque but also highly embarrassing. A stranger stood in Luke’s room, completely ignoring Scott and patiently conversing with the host, who didn’t even have the decency to turn towards his guest.

“Has the Queen contacted us?” Luke still didn’t find it necessary to move away from Scott; he was brazenly snuggling closer. By now, he had also started to fish for Scott’s hand under the duvet, intertwining their fingers.

“No,” the man disappointed him once more.

“Then it can only be mail, and I rule that out. Mercedes won’t need me as a test driver, and neither will the cross-country team.”

“No, but your football club. Your father wants to speak with you immediately.”

In an instant, Luke was wide awake. Scott barely had time to react as his host leaped out of bed and pushed his way outside. There was a crash in the hallway, and the werewolf was certain that a vase or some other object had paid the price. The stranger didn’t flinch, as if he were already accustomed to this routine. Instead, his gaze shifted to Scott, who had the unsettling feeling that those grey eyes were x-raying him.

“Please excuse the abrupt awakening and my failure to introduce myself: My name is Jonathan Davenport, and I am Master Luke’s personal butler. He informed me of your potential arrival but seems to have neglected to mention your culinary preferences. I have already prepared breakfast; if English breakfast is not to your liking, I can promptly arrange something else for you.”

Jonathan inclined his head slightly towards Scott, who was completely overwhelmed and did the same.

“Um, nice to meet you, I’m Scott,” he replied, slightly shy. “I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”

“You are causing me no trouble. Master Luke prefers fried breakfast bacon, sausages, and scrambled eggs as his main course. I wasn’t sure if you were a vegetarian, so I also prepared meat-free alternatives.”

The way the butler stood there, looking at him completely neutrally, was somehow unsettling. Not to mention that Scott typically never consumed meat for breakfast. Where was Luke? The situation was becoming increasingly uncomfortable for him with every passing second. The man across from him seemed so stiff and uptight…

“Um, thanks, but I do eat meat,” Scott scratched the back of his ear. “So, you’re Luke’s butler? What does a butler do all day?” he tried to strike up a conversation. Of course, he had heard stories about butlers, but it all sounded so fantastical, especially for a 17-year-old.

“I take care of the household and Master Luke’s personal affairs. The former is mostly handled by a dedicated cleaning staff in the apartment, so I focus primarily on the latter, which are aspects I cannot and will not discuss with you. I apologize. My usual duties include laundry, cooking, and partly managing appointments, as well as driving, and I would also be capable of maintaining any garden.”

This was just absurd. Before him stood a man who could have been his grandfather, explaining all the things he would or could do for Luke. Not that Scott had asked; it just seemed absolutely surreal. The thought of his own grandfather brought a lump to his throat.

“May I ask if Luke’s grandpa will be joining us for breakfast?” Scott honestly didn’t want to deal with Gerard any longer than necessary.

“Master Luke’s grandfather has excused himself for today. He has an important therapy session, as far as I am informed. Therefore, you will be alone today.” Jonathan fiddled with his bow tie for a moment before placing his hand back behind his back. His expression remained completely neutral. “Unless you require anything else from me, I will take my leave.”

That sounded almost too good to be true: Gerard wasn’t here. Either the old bastard had planned it that way, or it was indeed a fortunate coincidence. Scott pushed that thought aside for the moment and focused on the fact that he was still sharing a room with a complete stranger in his late fifties.

“Uh, I don’t think so?”

“Good. Fresh towels are ready in the bathroom, and I have taken the liberty of assigning you a personal cup for your toothbrush.” With that, Jonathan left him alone.

Wow, he was already being given a personal cup for his toothbrush, which was also borrowed. If a house key and a personal pair of pajamas followed, he could be sure that he and Luke were officially a couple. Shaking his head, he got up and rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. The dream still lingered in his bones. Those emotions, those feelings, that sense of familiarity—everything had felt so real. Did Luke know about his secret? Was he a hunter?

These questions lost significance at the moment Luke appeared in the doorway, throwing his arms around Scott’s neck. Before Scott could even ask what had happened, he was kissed passionately. He stiffened for a moment but then leaned into the kiss, trying to suppress a smile: he liked being greeted this way.

“I’m in the running for a friendly match this summer,” Luke beamed at him breathlessly.

“Congratulations?” Scott cautiously congratulated him. To him, football was still a mystery. Friendly matches weren’t really that special, were they?

“I’m so happy!” The dark blonde boy stole another kiss and took Scott’s hands. “This is the best day of my life.” He stretched a little and gave Scott a tender look, “Without you, it wouldn’t be half as beautiful.”

Scott melted at those words. The way Luke said it, the tremor in his voice, the excitement, the affection, and above all, the love were almost tangible.

“Come on, let’s get ready and then go for breakfast. I’m starving!”

With that, Luke pulled Scott into the bathroom, where a red glass cup was marked with his initials. The same applied to the toothbrush, which he was assured would soon be replaced by an electric model. As soon as they finished their oral hygiene and got dressed, the two of them headed downstairs, where the table was already set: Alongside orange, grapefruit, and pomegranate juice, there were two bowls of porridge, pancakes, plates of breakfast bacon, sausages, fried eggs, scrambled eggs, a teapot with Earl Grey tea, one with cocoa, and one with coffee, along with sliced toast, both toasted and plain, butter, honey, jam, a small jug of milk, and a sugar bowl. Scott had almost expected a similarly decorated dishware set as Luke’s other dining utensils, but the breakfast inventory seemed to have escaped that fate. A large fruit bowl overflowed with oranges, mandarins, apples, and bananas.

“Help yourself,” Luke gestured for him to dig in after they sat down.

“Thanks,” Scott replied, overwhelmed by the abundance of food, before he set about pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Do you usually eat all this by yourself?”

“No, there are actually three of us: Jonathan, Grandpa, and me. The caregiver stays in her room because I want some peace during breakfast,” his companion said casually.

“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” The werewolf pulled the bowl of porridge closer and poked around in it a bit before tasting it and finding it good.

“She’s not part of my family and never will be. If Hakim were here, he would join us too, but otherwise…” Luke sipped his glass of pomegranate juice and then dug into his porridge.

“And where’s Jonathan today?” Scott asked, taking a spoonful of cereal himself.

“In his room. I actually didn’t want you to have any contact with him, at least not just yet.”

“Why? I thought you liked him?” That was a bit confusing. Just yesterday, Luke had raved about his butler and said he was looking forward to seeing him, and now he was trying to keep him away from Scott.

“Of course I like Jonathan, but it’s different between us,” he explained between bites, washing it down with another sip of juice.

Scott refrained from making any further comments and focused on his food. His head was buzzing, and it wasn’t just because of the confusing dream. He felt completely overwhelmed. In this world of decadence and opulence, which was somewhat toned down in this area, he felt out of place. Nothing here seemed normal, and it still felt terribly sterile. His home was smaller but much cozier.

After the porridge, Luke moved on to the warm part of the breakfast, choosing meat and eggs, while Scott opted for the pancakes, which were also extremely delicious. They rounded off their breakfast with a cup of Earl Grey, which Luke prepared with milk for himself and lemon for Scott. Their conversation revolved around the upcoming friendly match, school, the chemistry test, and lacrosse practice. Scott decided to let the coach handle getting Luke onto the team; that was not his job.

“I think Hakim would love you,” Luke changed the subject.

“You think so?” Scott added a small spoonful of sugar to his tea and stirred it. It would have been impossible to eat more. He was surprised that the buttons on his jeans hadn’t popped off yet. Jonathan seemed to be an excellent cook.

“Definitely. You’re a good person, and he can see that.” The Brit took a sip from his cup. “Besides, you belong to me, so he’ll protect you just like he protects me.”

A smile crept onto the werewolf’s face, and he didn’t say anything further, focusing instead on his drink. It sounded very much like Luke was claiming him as his own. After five and a half days, was it too early for that? He instinctively ran his hand over his upper arm: with a soulmate, it was never too early. But were they soulmates now or not?

“Luke?” he asked cautiously, glancing from his meal to the boy across from him.

“Hmm?” Luke was stirring a little in his cup with a small spoon.

“You’ve seen my soulmate mark, right?”

“I have,” he confirmed with a nod. “An L and an A. I saw it back then, in the locker room.”

“But your initials are an L and a T, unless your last name isn’t Taylor, but something else. A as in…”

“You mean if my last name is Argent?” Luke shook his head sadly. “No, Scott, I’m not Argent. My name is Taylor.” That wasn’t a lie, as his pulse remained steady. “As much as I wish it were.” His voice was filled with sadness and longing.

“Then we’re not soulmates,” Scott noted with slight disappointment.

“No, I suppose we’re not.” A sigh escaped the Brit as he set his cup down on the saucer. “Is that a problem for you?”

No, it wasn’t. It just didn’t explain why they felt so drawn to each other. Scott almost wished Luke would just lie to him, consciously withholding his true name for whatever reason. But thus far, the boy hadn’t been able to lie to him, and he wouldn’t be able to now, especially since he seemed to wish it himself.

“No, it’s just…” He searched for the right words. “Allison wasn’t my soulmate either, and it ended, among other reasons, because of Isaac.” He was aware that this wound would never fully heal. He had given a piece of his heart to Allison, and although Luke was capable of minimizing that sorrow, it was still present, at least in that moment.

“That’s not going to happen with me, Scott.” Luke reached across the table, placing his hand on Scott’s, looking deeply into his eyes. “I can’t find my soulmate anymore. If anything, you would be the one to leave me.”

“I would never do that,” the werewolf replied immediately. He hadn’t wanted to leave Allison either and wouldn’t make that mistake a second time.

“You don’t know that. The love for a soulmate is said to be more beautiful than anything one can feel. It can move mountains and carry the heaviest burdens on your shoulders. Your soulmate is your reflection and yet the exact opposite of you. You complete each other perfectly, and you would leave me behind at the slightest flutter of an eyelash from him or her.” Luke sounded almost a little melancholic as he said this.

“You talk as if you’ve experienced that before,” Scott noted, turning his hand under Luke’s so that their palms touched. A little shiver ran down his spine at this gesture. This was not normal; it was not normal falling in love.

“Not quite as you think.” With his free hand, Luke reached for his cup again and took a sip before placing it back down on the saucer with a soft clink. “I once knew someone I loved very much. He was tall, strong, and the most handsome guy I had ever seen up to that point. A perfect shell merged with the soul of a fearless warrior. A good teacher and probably an even better soulmate. He accomplished the most difficult things. Back then, I would have given my life for him and my soul if it meant I could win his love. Just a single glance from him was enough to make my knees weak. His scars were not a sign of weakness, like mine; they didn’t mar his flawless body—he was not born to be tamed, nor to be loved, and certainly not to love. A true warrior does not bond with a weaker partner; that partner would only become an obstacle, a yoke that holds him back, and that’s why we were not meant for each other. A small piece of me will always be with him, and both Hakim and I miss him.”

The longing for this stranger was palpable. Part of Scott felt jealous, another part couldn’t understand why this person hadn’t fallen in love with Luke, and the last part wondered what must have happened for his conversation partner to become so melancholic in an instant.

“But that’s the past,” Luke stated, brushing his fingertips over Scott’s. “I have you now and I’m happy with you. Although I’m a bit nervous.”

“Why?”

“You’d be my first serious boyfriend, and I don’t know how to meet your mother. What does one do as the son’s boyfriend? Should I buy her something? A designer dress? A diamond necklace? Do you even have a decent tailor or jeweller in town?”

“Stop it,” Scott chuckled, shaking his head at Luke’s apparent confusion. “Mom likes you and will like you just the same, without expensive gifts. Neither of us is after your money,” he clarified. Luke had made a good impression on Melissa, and it wouldn’t be a problem for her if he came home with a boy.

“But you’re important to me, and so is your mom. I like her. She was so nice to me.”

“You only met for an hour?” The werewolf tilted his head.

“That was enough, but let’s leave it at that. I still want to show my appreciation, okay? If you need anything, just let me know.” The Brit gently stroked Scott’s palm and played with his fingertips.

“We don’t need anything, really.” Scott placed his other hand on Luke’s and gave him a warm smile. “We have each other.” While this wasn’t entirely true—Melissa’s car was about to give out, and there were some repairs needed around the house—he didn’t want to be financially supported by Luke. That would feel wrong. He knew his mother wouldn’t want that either.

“But you don’t think I’m trying to buy your love, do you?” Luke asked softly.

“Of course not, why would you think that?” Scott replied, visibly taken aback. He furrowed his brow, his eyebrows knitting together. What a strange question!

“Just wondering,” the Brit said halfheartedly. “So, we’re together now? Despite this short time?”

“Seems that way, huh?”

“Wow—what a cool feeling.” Luke grinned happily. “My boyfriend, Scott McCall. Sounds good.” He looked down and rubbed his upper arm with his free hand. “When your mom is home, will you tell her?”

“I think so, why?”

“Can I be there? I mean… I’d introduce myself again, but differently, and I also owe her something for the pancakes, and I need to return the plate.” He sounded slightly nervous and looked it too.

"You don't owe Mom anything," Scott corrected him. "She'll just be a bit surprised because it's all happened so quickly."

"Let that be my concern—I've already got an idea for what to give her. We could bring her something to eat, how about that?"

"She would definitely appreciate that."

"Great, then I suggest we get ready and head to the shopping centre, okay?"

"Sounds good."

Luke stood up, freed himself from Scott's grip, and kissed him on the cheek. "I love you."

"I love you too," came the happy reply, and it was from the heart.

Chapter Text

They had driven to the mall. Luke had been exceedingly happy and euphoric throughout the journey. His cheeks glowed continuously, as did his ears, and more than once, his braces glinted in the morning sunlight. His whole demeanor towards Scott had changed slightly; he had become more curious, playful, and a bit more relaxed. Occasionally, a joke had even slipped out that had made the werewolf laugh.

“Do you need anything?” Luke asked as he slipped the car key into his black-and-blue hoodie emblazoned with the Manchester United logo.

“Not really. Mum’s taking care of all the shopping,” Scott explained, walking alongside his friend. Friend – that still sounded strange. It had happened so quickly, yet it felt so right.

He had the thought that the ‘A’ on his upper arm might just be an extremely ugly ‘T’. Perhaps it was faded or would change somehow? Could a soul mark even do that? Was it meant to?

These musings were overshadowed by his companion, who was purposefully heading towards a small flower shop. Scott hurried to keep pace. The shop was wedged between a fast-food outlet and a hardware store. Despite the limited space, the selection was large enough, at least in his opinion. A small sea of blossoms greeted them as they entered, and the saleswoman, a stout woman in her mid-fifties with full cheeks, a dark complexion, a slightly crooked nose, and dimples, looked up as the bell chimed, announcing their arrival. Her long black hair was woven into a braid that managed, more poorly than well, to tame her wild mane.

“Good day, can I help you?” she inquired kindly, straightening up behind the counter.

The scent of flowers clouded Scott’s senses. There were so many different fragrances bombarding him that he felt dizzy. He could only hear Luke’s voice and the saleswoman’s in muffled tones, as if he had cotton in his ears. The smell of roses was present, as well as tulips, violets, and something that caused an inappropriate tickle in his nose. Breathing became increasingly difficult, and he struggled to keep himself upright. The Alpha blinked several times to dispel the emerging double vision. Something was definitely not right here.

Luke said something again, and the saleswoman responded, but he couldn’t for the life of him determine what the topic of their conversation was. Everything around him began to spin. His vision had become so blurred that he couldn’t see his own hand in front of his face, and it felt like he was about to topple over. Helplessly, he tried to orient himself. He wanted to get outside; something in this shop was troubling him.

His lungs craved oxygen, which he couldn’t provide. Panic washed over him. It felt like back then, during one of his asthma attacks. He hadn’t needed the inhaler since becoming a werewolf.

“Luke,” he managed to press out, barely, and noticed how his legs were giving way. In a desperate attempt to find something to hold onto, he reached out helplessly, but even that was beyond him. He needed air, had to breathe! Just before he hit the hard wooden floor of the shop, he realised why he was reacting this way: there was monkshood in here. Then everything went dark around him.

“Scott?” he heard someone say. “Scott?” Again, this time louder and more concerned. It took him a moment to place the voice, then he opened his eyes.

Luke looked at him with concern. Scott could feel a hand on the back of his neck and another on his chest. A harsh light blinded him as he lifted his head. Groaning, he shielded his eyes with his right hand.

“Can you hear me?” he was asked urgently. “If you don’t answer me, I’ll call an ambulance.”

“I can hear you,” the werewolf mumbled, squinting. What had even happened? They had gone into the flower shop, then he had felt dizzy and… Suddenly, he shot up, realizing they were still inside the shop. The saleswoman was watching him anxiously. A quick glance revealed an open entrance. Relieved, he sank back down, into Luke’s arms, as he noticed.

“You’re giving me a scare,” he heard him murmur. “It’s a miracle you didn’t break anything.”

“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Scott tried to reassure Luke. “I must be allergic to something in here.” That wasn’t even a lie. For a brief moment, he had found himself back in the situation with Allison’s mother. Victoria’s attempt to kill him was still vividly etched in his memory.

“Are you sure?” Luke didn’t sound convinced. “We can go to the hospital right away.”

“No need,” Scott calmed him as he slowly sat up with help. The scent of monkshood was still present, but the fresh air from outside seemed sufficient to minimize its effect on him. “I’ll just wait outside, okay?”

“Okay, but if anything happens, you call me right away, alright? Don’t go too far.” Luke withdrew his arm from around Scott’s back, and Scott hurried outside. The situation was not only uncomfortable for him but also embarrassing. What must the saleswoman think of him or his friend? Like a wallflower… He purposefully made his way to an empty bench nearby and sat down. The feeling of suffocation still haunted him. He had faced it too often and for too long as a child and teenager. After being bitten by Peter, the symptoms had vanished, so it was all the more distressing to feel them again. The asthma attacks had been a normal part of his life, but not anymore. He tried to distract himself by watching the people passing by. Teens, adults, children, elderly folks – a colourful mix. No one seemed to notice him. He breathed out in relief; his little episode had probably gone unnoticed.

Scott couldn’t say how long he had sat there, but it was long enough for Luke to approach him with a bouquet of purple violets in hand. His face still reflected concern.

“You’ve got a bit more colour back,” the Brit observed. “You’re not allergic to violets, are you?”

“No, don’t worry,” the werewolf shook his head. “I have no idea what that was just now,” he lied and felt guilty by the end of the sentence. He didn’t want to lie, didn’t even know why he did. Shouldn’t he just be honest with him, tell him who and what he was? Something held him back, an intuition or a feeling. He resisted it so strongly. “Why did you buy violets, then?” he redirected the conversation to a topic that was far less uncomfortable for him.

“Because purple violets, among other things, stand for patience,” Luke explained, sitting down next to him and placing the bouquet between them.

“Patience?” Scott gave him a curious look. He had no idea about such things, only that red roses stood for love and were particularly popular on Valentine’s Day.

“Yes, patience,” Luke confirmed. “I’d like to ask your mother for a lot of patience.”

“Mom? For what?”

"That she overlooks my mistakes with patience and remains patient while I prove myself to be a good friend to her son." His companion fidgeted slightly with his fingertips. "Are you really okay again? I feel terrible for taking you into the shop."

"It’s really all fine, Luke." Scott stretched out his hand and placed it on Luke's shoulder. "Don't worry about it."

"Okay – shall we go for a bit of a stroll? I haven't seen much of the mall so far." The Brit nodded toward the escalator, which was about twenty meters away.

"None of these shops will meet your high standards, huh?" the Alpha teased him.

"Probably not," came the dry response. "Then let's see what Beacon Hills Mall has to offer."

With that, they stood up and strolled together through the shopping center. Within a few steps, their hands were already intertwined.

"Where do you usually shop?" At the questioning look from his friend, Scott quickly added, "I mean at home."

"Clothes at my trusted tailor or in selected fashion boutiques."

"And flowers?" the werewolf pressed on. "Do you buy flowers often?"

"No." Luke tightened his grip on Scott's hand a bit more and showed keen interest in a small coffee shop across from them. "Boys don’t give flowers, and there hasn't really been a girl I wanted to gift them to."

"And how do you know about all this, or did you just make that up?"

"Interest. I usually spent my sparse free time preparing a bit for meeting a potential friend or girlfriend and their family, or at least imagining it." Luke looked back at Scott and awkwardly scratched his cheek with the bouquet in hand. "I wanted to buy lilies at first since they have special significance in Chinese culture, but I should really be giving them to you."

"Me?" came the slightly bewildered question. Scott enjoyed gifts, but flowers weren’t exactly what he had in mind.

"The lily is a popular gift for newlyweds or women who are about to marry, as it is considered a bringer of sons. Sons have historically been more desired than daughters in Chinese society, but thankfully that’s changing. In any case, the lily symbolizes happy and lasting love. Giving it to your mother could come off as wrong." Luke scratched his nose again, this time his head disappearing briefly behind the violet bouquet.

"Uh, I see." Scott didn’t understand at all. He couldn't even grasp why someone would put so much thought into a few simple flowers. They were a gesture, a gift, and his mother would surely appreciate them, but he strongly doubted that Melissa would attach the same deeper meaning to them as Luke did.

After scouting out the mall (and after his friend had complained multiple times about the poor selection), the werewolf's grumbling stomach led them to a small Italian restaurant. Scott had been there before with Allison, and the thought of a good slice of pizza made his mouth water. Luke’s skepticism was clearly written on his face, which didn’t change when the waiter, a bit older than both of them, approached with a ponytail and a button nose, armed with menus. While Scott opted for a Hawaiian pizza, the Brit settled for a glass of orange juice.

“Are you not hungry?”

“Not really. I’m just lost in thought,” Luke admitted, his eyes fixated on the bouquet beside him. He avoided looking directly at the other diners and focused entirely on his gift.

“About what?”

“About your mother. What if she doesn’t like me or thinks I'm not good enough for you? I should have bought her a diamond necklace or a car or…” Luke’s nervousness was palpable, evident in his restless glances toward Scott. “Flowers, what a dumb idea – generic, simple, clumsy…”

“Hey, take it easy,” the Alpha interrupted quickly. “Mom already likes you, and she’ll definitely like you as my friend. You’re overthinking it. She’ll be happy with the flowers, I’m sure of it.”

“You’re just saying that.” Luke rubbed his right cheek against his shoulder. “I don’t have a backup plan, and that’s bothering me.”

“You don’t need a backup plan – just be yourself.”

When their drinks arrived (Scott had ordered a cola), he was honestly relieved. He had never seen his friend so anxious in the five, almost six days they had known each other. Luke seemed to be unsure of where to put his excess energy, fidgeting restlessly with the tips of his shoes, tapping his glass, and alternating between “talking a mile a minute” and “silent as a grave” in a matter of minutes. Eventually, the Alpha surrendered and waited for his pizza while repeatedly assuring Luke that he didn’t need to worry.

After the meal, during which they took a Margherita pizza home for Melissa (Luke had insisted on paying), they headed to the car. Scott immediately took Luke's hand again, which seemed to calm him a little.

“Shouldn’t I be more nervous than you? Your dad is someone who belongs to the upper echelons, after all?” the werewolf chuckled after a prolonged silence while Luke awkwardly unlocked the car.

“If it were up to me, you’d never have to meet Dad.” The doors swung open, and they both settled into their seats, placing the flowers and pizza box on the back shelf.

“Why not?”

“Because no one meets his standards. I don’t want to talk about it, okay? At least not now – I… I need to prepare myself emotionally to meet your mother.”

“Why? You’re acting like my mom is a monster with snakes for hair who breathes fire. Not to mention, it might hurt me a bit if it turns out I’m not good enough for your dad.” The last part stung a little; the thought that Luke’s father might be just as snobbish as he was…

“Hey.” Luke’s head snapped around, and he looked at Scott intently. “You’re my friend, and I love you. What my father thinks or says doesn’t matter at all. I decide who I want in my life, and that’s you.” He shoved the key into the ignition a bit too forcefully. “If Dad says anything bad about you…”

“Luke, Luke…” Scott raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Take it easy. I can handle that I’m not some rich kid from a good family or whatever your dad wants for you. Just, if I can handle it, then you should handle it with my mom too, okay? Relax. We don’t have to tell her right away…”

“Mhm, I… just let me think while I drive, okay? I need to sort my thoughts out, and I want to get this over with.” The engine made a noise, and the car started moving.

“Alright, but calm down. It’ll go smoothly.” Scott hoped so fervently, even though he didn’t doubt it. His mom would probably just be surprised it happened so fast, but she would surely be happy, especially if she sensed how serious he was about Luke. She had worked hard to help him through his heartbreak over Allison, but like everyone else, including Stiles, she had failed, yet never gave up. As for Luke’s dad… he would only think about that when the time came. For now, he had his hands full calming his friend, whose tension seemed to grow with every meter they covered. This could be interesting.

Chapter Text

Calming Luke turned out to be about as simple as trying to turn Coach Finstock into a calm and collected person: practically impossible. Throughout the rest of the drive, Luke had been tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, repeatedly speeding well over the limit while rambling incoherently. After the third recitation of every Player of the Month for September in the Premier League, Scott had reached his breaking point.

“Pull over,” he instructed.

“What?” Luke didn’t even glance at him, his right eyelid twitching slightly as he seemed to focus on the traffic.

“I said pull over.” Scott's voice was calm but firm.

“Why? We’ll be late. That’ll make me look even worse than I already do. No, we need to go faster.” The light blonde made a face that looked slightly panicked.

“If you don’t pull over right now, I’m not joining your football team.” Scott couldn’t explain why he had said that; he was just following his intuition, but it seemed to work. Barely ten seconds later, the Mercedes was parked at the side of the road, and Luke was looking at him with wide eyes.

“Do I have your attention now?” the werewolf asked, relaxed. “Or would you like to exceed the speed limit by at least a third of the maximum allowed speed one more time?”

“I, Scott…” Luke’s nervous stammer was cut off by a gentle kiss. He noticeably lost much of his tension in that moment. His grey-green eyes disappeared behind fluttering eyelids, and a relieved sigh escaped his throat.

“That’s much better,” Scott noted with a smile. “I didn’t think you’d be so easy to calm down.”

“You act like it’s nothing to face your mother. What if she ultimately decides I’m not the right company for you, the right guy, hmm? What do I do then? Throw myself in front of the next train?” Luke’s body language changed again: muscles tensed, shoulders lifted, lips pressed together, and he nervously ran his fingers through his hair.

“It’s not nothing. Just relax, Luke.” The werewolf placed a hand on his friend's cheek. “You’re worrying way too much. Mom will accept you and like you, I know it. She’ll see how much I love you and how much you love me, and she’ll be happy about the flowers too.”

“The ones that almost killed you,” came the guilty reply, accompanied by a downcast expression.

“What’s going on with you? You haven’t been acting like this at all in the past few days, especially not when there were strangers around. You were completely indifferent towards the coach, Jackson too, even Stiles – and now you’re suddenly pulling back? Why?” Scott didn’t remove his hand from Luke’s cheek; instead, he began to gently stroke it with his thumb.

“Because… because,” the Brit rolled his eyes in annoyance and let out a dissatisfied sound, turning slightly towards the foreign palm. “Because this is something important, because you, because you all matter to me,” he spoke quietly, brushing his lips over Scott’s fingertips, which sent a warm tingle through Scott. “Your mother is part of you, and I don’t want her to think I’m not serious, or that I’m just after you.” He hastily glanced over at the werewolf and added, “Which I am, very much so.”

“Shh, it’s okay,” Scott began again to calm his friend. “You just need to be yourself, okay? It’s worked well so far, so why should it be any different now, hmm?”

"I don't know, Scott. This is a situation I can't control, and it's not just about me; it also depends on how another person perceives things. I don’t want us to end up like Romeo and Juliet, or Harry and Ste, doomed to a life of secrecy and rejection, with at least one of us paying the ultimate price for it." Luke sounded subtly desperate, gripping Scott's wrist with his fingers as if afraid the owner would simply vanish into thin air. "At least not in front of your mother."

Scott was familiar with that comparison, at least the one about Romeo and Juliet. Something similar had come up once between Allison and him. That had gone terribly wrong. He didn’t want to face another disappointment, nor let that bad omen influence him. Determined to fight against it, he shifted slightly and leaned closer to Luke. If calming his friend down this way didn’t work, perhaps another method would.

"Look at me," he instructed Luke. "Look deep into my eyes."

Hesitantly, Luke followed the request, visibly struggling. He seemed not only nervous and restless but also somewhat embarrassed and unsure. His lips trembled, the corners of his mouth turned down, and his nostrils flared, warm breath brushing against Scott's skin.

"Luke, I’ve known you for less than a week, and we’re already together. It’s not because you’re rich, or good-looking, or have opportunities I can only dream of; I love you for who you are. Right now, even more than ever. The w…" He nearly let slip a word and quickly cleared his throat to cover it up. "Why would my mom react differently to you? You make me feel good, you make me laugh, and you’ve said things to me that I didn’t even know could be used as compliments. Now take a deep breath again and internalise what I just told you."

The Brit closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His grip on Scott's wrist loosened and then completely let go. After rubbing his cheek against Scott's shoulder, he seemed to have calmed down enough to open his eyes again, place his hands back on the steering wheel, and continue their drive, now within the speed limit.

"Luke?"

"Hm?" came the monosyllabic response as they found themselves in a small traffic jam, with Luke tapping impatiently on the steering wheel.

"Who are Harry and Ste?" Scott might not have been the best when it came to literary figures, but he was familiar with the most common ones by now. Ste didn’t sound like a character Shakespeare would have created.

"Harry and Ste were THE gay couple in Hollyoaks, THE soap opera in the UK. I never really liked Ste; he was unfaithful, insecure, and basically a complete idiot. But Harry – there was something forbidden about it, a forbidden love. Harry couldn’t tell his father, just like Ste couldn’t." Luke’s mouth corners lifted slightly. "He was forbiddenly handsome too – we should definitely have a little series marathon sometime, okay?"

"How is it that, despite your limited free time, which you undoubtedly fill with training and studying, you still have enough capacity to keep up with series and animes?" Scott asked.

"It’s all a matter of organisation. It’s the same with football. If you don’t have friends, your days look a bit different: training, school, homework, a little food in between, then possibly more training, and the rest of the time you can manage as you please. Besides, you can always catch up on episodes later."

"I actually expected you to say you bribed the channel to air the series at a more convenient time for you," Scott chuckled, watching as they turned into the McCalls' driveway.

"Then I would have had to blow up the channel and beat up all the directors with their scripts," came the dry comment.

"Hm?"

“Ugh, they let Harry die – one of the biggest mistakes ever.” The Brit glanced at the house and let out a quiet sigh. “And you say it’s enough if I just be myself?” he followed up with an abrupt change of topic.

“Absolutely,” Scott confirmed. “Just like you’ve always been with me.”

“I can do this,” Luke said to himself.

“Of course you can,” the Alpha encouraged him. “Just stay relaxed.”

“I’m trying.”

With that, they got out of the car, Luke holding the bouquet of violets, Scott walking ahead. He turned the key in the lock and stepped inside, closely followed by his companion, who managed to hide his face remarkably well behind the flowers. It was up to him to break the ice, even though that really shouldn’t be necessary. “Here we go,” he thought to himself, making his way toward the kitchen, where the aroma of fresh food wafted toward him, his attachment trailing closely behind.

“I’m back, Mom!” Scott called out toward the kitchen and immediately felt fingers wrap around his own. He didn’t need to turn around to know that Luke was hiding behind him, especially since the scent of violets had become overwhelming.

“I’m in the kitchen; I hope you’re hungry, sweetheart,” came the cheerful reply. “I have tomorrow off. We could do something together.”

“Maybe it’s better if I just leave again,” Luke suggested quietly, almost whispering. “I don’t want to interrupt you, especially since you’re trying to make the most of your time with your mom…”

“Mom, could you come to the living room for a moment when you have time and stop cooking? It’s important. I brought you some pizza,” Scott interrupted his companion and nudged him toward the sofa. “And you’re going to sit down and calm down now.” With that, he sank down next to Luke, closed his eyes, and tilted his head back. This was going to be quick and painless. With Allison, it had been so easy, so it had to be even easier with Luke. Surely.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, accompanied by the creaking of the floorboards, the werewolf opened his eyes again and saw his mother approaching, wearing a wide, albeit slightly confused smile. She nodded toward Luke, who was huddled behind his bouquet, looking as if he wished he could sink into the ground.

“Mom, sit down,” Scott urged his mother, giving Luke a gentle nudge with his elbow, causing him to startle and pop up from behind his floral disguise. “Luke and I need to tell you something.”

“Uh, yes, good day, Mi… Melissa,” Luke stammered, standing up and offering her the bouquet of violets. “I left your plate in the car; I’ll get it,” his gaze fell on Scott, who subtly shook his head, “right after we’ve talked to you.”

Melissa seemed genuinely pleased with her gift, as she accepted the bouquet, thanked him, and sat down across from them. Curiosity was evident in her features, along with a hint of concern and confusion. “I already told you last time that Melissa is perfectly fine,” she said gently to the Brit.

“Of course, it’s just… it’s a bit complicated right now.” Before Scott could react, Luke had already sat back down next to him and grabbed his hand, or rather, intertwined his fingers with Scott’s right hand. “I would prefer to speak for a moment, if that’s alright, and I’d like you to listen, Miss McCall.” With that, the dark blonde cleared his throat again and seemed to tune out the fact that Scott's mother was raising an eyebrow at their hand-holding.

“I know it may seem very early, and I’m asking a lot, but I would like to ask for your patience with me, Miss McCall. That’s why I brought the violets – purple violets are associated with a plea for patience.” Luke squeezed Scott’s hand tightly, causing Scott’s eyebrows to raise, feeling like he was intruding.

“Patience? Why?” His mother looked back and forth between them, then focused again on their joined hands.

“Because I’ve fallen hopelessly in love with your son,” Luke stated surprisingly calmly and composed. “I truly want to ask you to be understanding and patient with me, and to give me a chance to prove that I’m serious. Scott has become one of the most important people in my life in these few days, and I promise to do everything in my power not to disappoint either you or him.” As he spoke, the werewolf’s right eyebrow slowly began to rise.

Melissa mirrored her son’s actions as she fixed her gaze on him and scrutinised him. Scott instinctively moved a little closer to Luke, their shoulders brushing against each other. A smile crept onto the Brit's face, and his pounding heart seemed to sync with the rhythm of his own.

“So that means you’ve fallen in love too, Scott?” Melissa sounded surprised, albeit a bit reserved, which was reflected in her expression.

“Yes, Mum, very much so,” he confirmed. “Luke and I like each other, but I can’t explain why it happened so quickly. Does that bother you?”

His mother shook her head quickly. “No, of course not. I just have to admit that it’s rather sudden and, above all, extremely early. I mean, you two really seem to like each other, sitting here in front of me, and I won’t stand in your way if you’re happy together, but…,” she glanced at the bouquet in her hand, “I’m just curious.”

“Mom, it might be a bit odd that I’m not introducing you to a girl, but…,” Scott began, but was immediately interrupted.

“Not at all. Sweetheart, you know I only want what’s best for you. I’m just wondering how a boy your age is capable of such thoughts when it comes to a simple bouquet of flowers. Most men my age can’t even manage that.” She looked amusedly at the two of them. “I’d cautiously say that’s a plus point.”

“I’m interested in these kinds of things. Gifts and gestures should have a deeper meaning. A bouquet of flowers often says more than many words,” Luke said, scratching his neck awkwardly. “So you don’t mind?”

“As I said, it’s very sudden, but if Scott thinks it could work out between you, then I’ll see it that way too and support you both as much as I can, but only under one condition.” Both Scott and Luke held their breath. “You finally stop calling me Miss McCall. I’m Melissa, not some old woman.”

Relief washed over both of them, and they exhaled simultaneously. Luke nodded, chuckling softly, and leaned a little more against Scott. “Agreed. I’ll do my best. Thank you for your… trust, Melissa. That means a lot to me.”

“You’re polite, at least, even if a bit pretentious. If you can ease up a bit and be less stiff around me, I think we’ll get along really well.” She stood up, giving them a renewed, much more open and genuine smile than before, and went over to a small cabinet, bending down to retrieve a vase. “By the way, I’m not great with flowers—so if they wilt soon, don’t hold it against me, alright?”

“Not at all.” Luke glanced over at Scott. “We forgot the pizza in the car, and I left the plate behind. I’ll just go grab those things, yeah?”

Once they were alone, and Melissa had placed the flowers in a suitable vase (she seemed to have skipped the water), she sat down next to Scott and looked at him intently. “You really like him, don’t you?”

“Can you tell?” It felt somewhat uncomfortable for him to be discussing this alone with his mother, almost a bit embarrassing.

“A bit,” she teased, gently rubbing his back. “But he seems to like you a lot, the way he clings to you.”

“Does it really not bother you?” Scott fiddled with the sleeve of his sweater.

“No, darling, it doesn’t bother me at all, neither that he’s a boy nor that he’s shy. It’s just really early, but that’s not my decision. You know I support you, no matter what you do, right?”

“Yeees, Mum. I don’t quite understand it myself. We just click, and actually, Luke isn’t shy at all, just around me and probably you too.” He intensified the fiddling, avoiding his mother’s gaze. “But he really is a great guy.”

“He’s quite well-mannered, yes,” she confirmed, giving him a hug.

“So you’re giving us a chance? Even if he probably isn’t my soulmate?” Scott returned the embrace.

“Scott, stop worrying about what I think; you need to be happy with him, and if you’re happy with him, then I’ll be happy too. But I would still like to get to know him a bit better.” Melissa squeezed him one last time before letting go.

“You will, for sure. He’ll probably be over more often now.”

“I hope so.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the opening door. Luke returned with the pizza box and the McCall plate. “Best wishes from Jonathan,” he beamed at the older woman.

The rest of the day turned out to be much more relaxed than expected. Luke faced the classic interrogation from a mother who only wanted the best for her son and mostly handled it with flying colours. During this, Scott also learned new things about his friend: Luke’s interests included not only China but also Japan; he had a dislike for most seafood; alongside dogs, he loved cats; he had been playing football since he was six; he had been cross-country skiing for seven years; he would have to wear his braces for at least two more years; he preferred his Earl Grey with lemon; his favourite colour was anthracite; his favourite animal was a tiger; he loved rainy weather; and he was allergic to pineapples and their products. In return, Melissa made an effort to ease the boy’s shyness, which she accomplished excellently; the interrogation eventually became more of a playful exchange. When it came to family questions, the Brit skillfully dodged them, politely apologising for not wanting to talk about it yet. Scott’s mother accepted this without issue. The werewolf mostly sat by, fetching them drinks or snacks, and was astonished at how much Luke was opening up. Almost wistfully, he glanced at the clock above the kitchen entrance.

“It’s just before ten past eight, and I have to get home. Grandpa is probably waiting for me.”

The mention of Gerard noticeably cooled the atmosphere, but the dark blonde boy seemed oblivious; his cheek instinctively brushed against Scott’s lips, stealing a fleeting kiss before extending his hand to Melissa. “It was lovely meeting you, Melissa, and thank you again for everything. I fear I’ll have to impose on your hospitality more often. I promise I’ll repay you someday.”

“That’s not necessary,” she replied, taking his offered hand. “It was lovely meeting you too. You at least have the decency to ring the bell, unlike Stiles, who practically climbs through our window.”

“Mom!” Scott scolded her, earning a hearty laugh in return.

“That was just a joke; Stiles is always welcome here too.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Luke muttered quietly. “I really have to go, as much as I’d love to stay longer. If you ever need anything, just let Scott know, okay?”

“I will,” she nodded at him. “See you next time, Luke.”

“See you!” Scott now received a small implied kiss, both of them blushing slightly. “I’ll call you tomorrow, alright?”

“Alright. I’m looking forward to it,” the werewolf smiled. “Drive safely home.”

“I could probably drive better blindfolded and with one arm than most people in this town.” The Brit raised his hand in farewell before disappearing outside, leaving them alone as they both yawned extensively.

“Do you mind if I head to bed and we have a thorough chat about your new friend tomorrow? I’m starting to feel really tired, and my shift is still weighing on me.” Melissa stretched and stood up from the sofa.

“Thorough?” Scott asked, alarmed. That didn’t sound good at all.

“Don’t worry, he’s already accepted,” his mother reassured him, dispelling his concerns.

“Well, okay then. Sleep well, Mum, love you!”

“Love you too. See you tomorrow.” Melissa headed upstairs while Scott took care of the dishes before getting ready for bed himself. He retreated to his room and quickly drifted off into the land of dreams. Somehow, the day had turned out to be far less of a fiasco than he had expected. He now had a boyfriend and was no longer alone, no longer excluded from all the couple activities. Surely, on Monday, people would be talking about them. Stiles would have a lot to say. The thought of his best friend brought a pang of guilt; he had made a promise to him and was already in the process of breaking it. Technically, it would only be broken if he let himself be swept away by some foolishness, and he was doing his utmost to avoid that—at least for now. Hopefully, it would stay that way.

Chapter Text

Gerard would never have imagined that he could experience joy while sipping a cup of steaming tea. The butler prepared it excellently. The delicate note reminded him of muscat grapes, which the old Argent had only had the chance to taste for the first time in this household, in the form of a well-pressed wine. Generally speaking, one could say that a life of luxury was a definite plus, incomparable to the care home he should have been languishing in. Luke preferred classic Earl Grey, but for him, Darjeeling tea was the pinnacle of enjoyment. At least the English were good for something; their cuisine, however, was highly questionable.

As he looked out of the window, Gerard stirred his tea a little, tapping the spoon against the rim of the cup with a clink, placing it on the saucer, and cautiously sipping the hot drink. The town centre of Beacon Hills lay before him. It was the town where he had fought one of his greatest battles many years ago. Back then, the werewolves had believed they could bring him to his knees, and they had been sorely mistaken. It had been naive to think that peace could exist between supernatural beings and ordinary humans. Werewolves were killers, monsters, born to kill. His family had founded the legend of the vulnerability of these creatures to silver. Rabid dogs needed to be eradicated before they could pose a threat. This knowledge had been passed down to his son and daughter, and both had disappointed him.

Gerard sipped his tea again and then set it down in his lap. The ornate porcelain saucer, adorned with hand-painted hawks and falcons, protected his skin from the searing heat emanating from the cup. Since money had ceased to be an issue, he, as an old man, had become a bit vain. He had never had to suffer from hunger, yet this hint of decadence was nothing compared to what he had been accustomed to before. The butler prepared his meals separately, including excellent soufflés. He was well aware of how little Jonathan liked him; it was evident in the man's expression, yet he would not dare to speak negatively of him, as Luke loved him. The boy adored him above all else. For Luke, Gerard was the piece of family he had never possessed. It had been wise to urge Kate to bring her son into the world and even wiser to sever the ties between mother and son. His daughter had never been the type of woman one could entrust with great responsibility in the form of a child, yet those faint maternal instincts that might have existed had been stifled at their inception.

He sipped from his cup again and finally cleared his throat behind a raised hand. The drink was still a touch too hot. Kate would never have been capable of raising the boy, let alone shaping him. Luke had always been Gerard's safety net, a Plan B. Isolating someone, cutting them off, and taking away what they longed for was the perfect way to draw the boy into his arms. He hadn’t even been too proud to occasionally attend those unbearably dull football matches. The sparkle in his grandson's eyes had been enough to assure him that he would always be able to keep him on a short leash.

Luke was a perfect piece of the puzzle on his path to revenge; revenge against Derek and Peter Hale and, above all, against Scott McCall. That bothersome child was responsible for his wretched state. The healing bite had become a curse. Not even the best doctors that money could buy had been able to free him from his torment, only to alleviate his suffering. He was no longer excreting that black, repulsive liquid; the pain had mostly disappeared, but he was still bound to a wheelchair. Yet, there was a solution for this circumstance as well.

The old Argent carefully took another sip from his cup and nodded in satisfaction; the temperature had become suitable for drinking. Thus, the afternoon was somewhat bearable. From the butler, he knew that Luke had gone off with Scott. Of course, they liked each other; they loved each other. A sly grin crept onto the old man’s face. It had been a simple attempt, an idea, and it seemed to be working. He had wondered if his second grandchild might also be connected to a filthy werewolf, especially after Allison had betrayed him in two ways: betraying him to Scott McCall and to Isaac Lahey. The girl had been unreliable and had managed to free herself from his grasp, but Allison possessed what her cousin should never have had: a somewhat intact family.

Revenge was a driving force in the life of the patriarch of the Argent family. Gerard’s time in the care home had been effectively utilized—plans had been crafted, discarded, picked up again, balanced, and ultimately deemed good. Doing to Scott what he had done to him was not enough: One could get used to physical pain, but emotional wounds accompanied a person for a lifetime. He would break him by taking away what he loved even more than Allison, more than the big-mouthed son of the Sheriff, more even than his mother.

Clumsily, he rolled over to the small side table, holding his cup in one hand, and took one of the French nougat éclairs from a plate that he so enjoyed. Luke seemed to have inherited his sweet tooth, as the boy appeared to consume sweets almost continuously. He savored the pastry as it melted in his mouth. A heavenly taste. He thought surprisingly little of the butler, but he had to admit, the man was an excellent cook and also an excellent baker. He carefully licked the chocolate off his fingertips and washed it down with a sip of tea. Then he reached for the remote control, and within seconds, the pleasant sound of classical music, in the form of selected pieces from the opera Eugene Onegin, filled the room. With a satisfied smile on his lips, he returned to his éclairs and continued to indulge in his thoughts.

Vernon Boyd and Erica Reyes had only been a small taste of what was to come. His new secret weapon was significantly more effective than Jackson, smarter, craftier, and above all, more brutal. If the pampered son of a lawyer had, at best, been a larva that could have transformed into a magnificent butterfly through his death, the ninja was nearly the perfection necessary to take revenge on the werewolves. Gerard was capable of controlling and directing this monster.

In his fight against the two werewolves, the lovebirds, the ninja had acted brutally and callously. The old man had watched with delight as his weapon had managed to hold its own. The terror in the couple's eyes when they realized they were facing an opponent who was clearly superior to them. But it was not this circumstance that had given him a certain measure of satisfaction: The emotional cruelty to which they were subjected had sent his old heart into a euphoric state. Boyd had still been sane when Erica was hanged, and she was aware enough to realize what was happening to her beloved. Gerard had never intended to kill the two; they were merely serving as a simple warning. With each passing second, something broke within the two werewolves. At first, they had tried to free themselves, but eventually, lethargy and acceptance of the inevitable prevailed. But that was only the beginning.

Piece by piece, he would gradually decimate the two packs, instilling fear and terror. Omnipresent fear was his goal. To show them their own helplessness. Derek would despair when he could protect no one from his little party group, which would drive Stiles to madness. Allison would have to live in constant fear that she and her beloved werewolf would meet the same fate, while Peter would fear when it would be his turn, and Scott… Once again, a smile crept onto Gerard’s face, this time decidedly more malicious and cutting than before. He had something special in mind for him.

Soulmates. What utter nonsense. Of course, they existed, but they were a flaw, a weakness; love was a weakness. Hope blossomed within the Alpha that he might finally have found his mate. Allison had been far too chatty back then, and so was Luke. The belief, the desire, to have found the reflection of oneself, the perfect partner… He would do everything to separate his mate from him—a futile endeavor. Luke stood firmly on one side, and that was his grandfather's. He would never believe the horror stories told about his grandpa. Scott could only make the wrong choice and suffer for it.

Satisfied, he licked the chocolate smeared across his lips. Scott's loyalty and love for Luke would break his neck; he just needed to remain calm and wait, lurking for the right moment. The glow in their eyes needed to intensify; only at the zenith of their blooming love would he strike. For now, it was simply a matter of watching and eventually reaping the fruits of his labor. Until then, he could enjoy the pleasures of this life and lean back.

Thus, the day passed. Dinner came and went, the caregiver—a huntress—took care of him, and just as it approached half past ten, Gerard heard a knock at the door. He closed the book and called out calmly, "Yes?" into the room. As expected, his grandson appeared, looking overjoyed but also revealing a hint of guilt in his gaze.

"Grandpa, I'm really sorry for leaving you hanging, but…" the Brit began, only to be interrupted immediately.

"No need to apologize, my boy. I can guess what you've been up to." Grandpa Argent smiled kindly and empathetically. Internally, the thought disgusted him, but he was a good actor—so good that not even his own grandson could distinguish truth from lie. "Do sit down," he said, gesturing for him to take a seat.

"Thank you," Luke replied with a smile and settled beside him. "Grandpa, I…" The dark blonde fumbled for words, scratching his neck awkwardly.

"You?" Gerard picked up the thread of the conversation. "Luke, you can tell me anything you want; you know that, right?" His voice took on a compassionate and gentle tone.

"I know, but…" A soft sigh followed. "Grandpa, you know I really like Scott; we've talked about it before," he began.

"Of course, it's practically the only topic in our household now." A slight reprimand combined with another sympathetic smile was enough to make the boy flinch and then exhale in relief. "So what is it you want to tell me?"

"Scott and I are probably together now," he threw into the room. "Like, really a couple, with all that entails. We had our first date yesterday and…" As he recounted the details and praised their budding romance, Gerard simply tuned out. Occasional nods combined with phrases like "How lovely" or "I'm happy for you" were more than sufficient to convince Luke that this whole affair somehow touched him.

It was working even better than expected. Scott had already let his grandson close in such a short time. He must trust him. That was the lever Gerard wanted to pull. The inner turmoil would soon wear down the Alpha. He couldn't be sure whether Luke knew anything about his plans or whether it had to do with the incident surrounding Boyd and Erica.

"I also like his mother. Melissa seems like a great woman!" Luke's voice jolted him from his thoughts.

"That sounds quite positive, Luke. I'm really happy for you. You should invite Scott over more often from now on, hmm?" Grandpa Argent suggested insincerely. "You don’t need to worry about me; I’ll just occupy myself with a book in my room or something, so you can be undisturbed."

"I don't want that at all," Luke immediately clarified, indignant. "You are part of the family and one of the most important people in my life. If Scott is here, then you can and must be here too. After all, we belong together."

They would never belong together. No werewolf had any place in his family, and anyone who got involved with a werewolf was just as much scum.

"Of course," his grandfather confirmed. "Just as you've always wished, hmm?"

Luke lowered his gaze and then nodded. "Grandpa? What if he’s the one? The One?" He brushed his fingers along the side of his arm. "Does that mark really appear then? An S and an M? Through the scar?"

"I believe so." Gerard extended his arm and placed a hand on his grandson's shoulder. "But that's not important. As long as you're happy with him, then I am too." This gesture was followed by a heartfelt embrace from Luke, which the old man returned, wearing a self-satisfied expression. Love was so predictable.

Chapter Text

The next morning in the McCall household went relatively normally. Scott and his mother had breakfast together, chatting about school and work, lacrosse practice, and the Halloween costume ball. The werewolf lived up to his name, devouring scrambled eggs and toasted bread meant for at least two people, which brought a smile to his mother’s face. After breakfast was finished, they settled into the living room, Melissa armed with a glass of wine, and it was time for that part of the day which the Alpha looked forward to with a bit of anxiety.

“Mom, don’t you think it’s a little early to be drinking?” Scott started the conversation with a nervous joke.

“I could ask you the same thing, sweetheart – dragging home a boyfriend after not even a week is quite early even by teenager standards.” A smirk played on Melissa’s lips.

“I… um,” the Alpha stammered, feeling a subtle blush creeping into his ears.

“Sweetheart, it’s all right,” his mother gently reassured him. “You seem to really like him, huh?” At this question, her face disappeared behind the rim of her glass, making it particularly hard to read her expression.

“You could say that,” Scott rubbed his neck awkwardly. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Why don’t you give it a try?” Melissa suggested, placing her wine glass on the coffee table in front of her.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath. “Mom, I think I’ve really fallen for Luke. It’s completely different from how it was with Allison. He makes me laugh, and he’s incredibly sweet when he’s nervous, so different from how he acts at school.”

“He’s not shy there?” his mother asked, intrigued. “Not stiff and formal?”

“Not at all. He actually got into it with Jackson on the first day. It’s just so crazy because I hardly know him, and yet it feels like I sometimes know exactly what he’s going to do next. I can practically feel his heartbeat, his fingers leave an indescribable tingle on my skin, and his lips…” It was only at that moment he realised who he was gushing about to Luke and pulled his flushed head down. Stealing a fleeting glance at Melissa, he could see her smiling again. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you?”

“No, just very much in love. As if you’re completely sure. Is he the one?”

Scott wrestled with himself. Should he really tell his mother the whole truth? Should he also share his doubts, the suspicions, and the scar? In the back of his mind, a voice whispered, no more than a quiet and cunning murmur, telling him not to do it, but then he decided to listen not to his head but to his gut. He loved his mother and trusted her completely.

“Mom, I don’t know,” he admitted honestly. “It’s all so complicated.”

“Complicated?” Melissa’s eyebrows raised slightly, and she frowned. “In what way?”

“Because Luke’s scar is quite large.”

“A scar – from an accident?”

"Well, I don't know that either; he doesn't want to talk about it, at least not yet. The scar seems to overshadow the soul mark."

"Okay, but you still have yours, right? Luke introduced himself with Taylor? Your soul mark indicates someone with the last name A," Melissa interjected.

"Of course, and it feels just like Stiles always described it with Derek. Luke and I seem to make an incredibly good team. We won the football game at school, even though I’ve never really had a ball at my feet. It was as if I knew where he was going to play, what I needed to do, when to pass the ball back… just like in orienteering. He was damn fast and extremely fit, and far too proud to admit he had overexerted himself. When I suggested carrying him on my back, he agreed after a brief hesitation. I know, for whatever reason, that he only did that because it was me who carried him." Scott’s flow of speech was accompanied by the occasional nod from his mother, who otherwise remained surprisingly calm and focused on listening.

"Mom, you have no idea how he acted towards the coach – completely disinterested and indifferent. In class, he doesn’t seem to care about anyone else, and he absolutely can’t stand Stiles. But he behaves completely differently with me. He’s gentle, loving, careful, and incredibly vulnerable. On the way here, he kept worrying about how to tell you that we’re probably together now and whether you would be happy with him, if he meets your expectations, if he’s good enough for me…"

"The way you describe him, he’s likely trying to hide that vulnerable side of himself. But I could also see how much he must be in love with you. That sparkle in his eyes, those gestures and looks – it’s no wonder he acts so differently around you." Melissa reached for her wine glass again and took a sip.

"Because he’s in love with me?"

"Yes, but mainly because he seems to trust you. From the way you describe Luke and how he acted around me, he seems hardly able to show trust and affection to anyone else." His mother leaned back a little, keeping her glass with her. "He clings, doesn’t he?"

"Yeah. Luke almost constantly holds my hand," Scott confirmed.

"Because he’s afraid of losing you," the nurse stated.

"How do you know that?"

"I have eyes in my head, sweetheart. He didn't even know where to look first, at you or at me. Plus, that shy behaviour is so contrary to what you just told me."

"So you think I’m just some sort of anchor point for him?" Disappointment spread through the Alpha. He didn’t want to be just a crutch, something to cling to.

"Yes and no. Luke probably really loves you, and you are his anchor too, but that’s exactly why he doesn’t want to lose you or is afraid of losing you. Can I guess that he grew up in a difficult family situation?" Melissa's mouth twitched slightly as Scott nodded with his mouth half open. "We have plenty of such youths in the hospital who also exhibit behavioural issues. Deep down, he probably worries that he’s not enough to keep you and is trying hard because of that."

"Is that why he lets me eat with him, while he only begrudgingly accepted it from Stiles?" the werewolf asked.

"I'm pretty sure. It would also fit that he let you carry him, even though it clearly embarrassed him. He probably sees Stiles as a threat because you might prefer him over Luke."

"But he did share some of his lunch with Allison and Isaac," Scott pointed out. "Why? Just because she’s his cousin and he’s her boyfriend?"

"Such children often have a need for a stable family, a piece of normality. Allison is family, just like Isaac. I dare say he’ll behave towards them similarly to how he does with you." Melissa took another sip from her glass, which was quickly nearing the bottom.

"You know that sounds incredibly exhausting, right? I’ve also promised Stiles I wouldn’t ditch him for anyone or anything in this world."

"Well, you shouldn’t. He’ll get used to it, and vice versa. What’s much more important is to be patient with him and show him that his fears are unfounded." Melissa set her glass aside and took Scott's hands in hers. "He’s going to panic at the thought of losing you."

The werewolf tilted his head and slightly raised the corner of his mouth, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Mom, how do you know all this? You hardly know him! I barely know him, to be honest…" In fact, despite everything, he realised he knew surprisingly little about his boyfriend, and he began to doubt whether agreeing to the relationship had been the right decision.

"Female intuition and experience, sweetheart." Melissa gave him an encouraging smile. "I want to be honest with you: it happens very quickly, but I won’t hold you back; I’ll support you. No doubt Luke loves you, I’ve noticed that. This is the third time I’m telling you."

"Still…" Scott rubbed his upper arm. So much had happened in just a week. He didn’t even know how to react. The fact was that he wanted to be with Luke and was really into him, in love even, but there was also a long list of dangers and problems associated with being connected to him. "Doesn’t it bother you that he’s Gerard’s grandson?"

"No," his mother replied without hesitation. "It didn’t bother me with Allison either, despite the incidents. If you love him, he can’t be a bad person; you have enough intuition and understanding of people for that, sweetheart."

He simply nodded and took a deep breath. His mother seemed to understand him and didn’t have any prejudices against Luke, unlike Stiles or presumably Allison. Talking to her about this topic would have been strange anyway. "Mom, I think Luke is lying." The moment those words left his lips, the guilt gnawed at him again, as it always did whenever he thought anything negative about the Brit. No, he was convinced that the dark blonde wasn’t lying, but somehow…

"So you think he’s your soulmate?" It wasn’t even a real question, just a simple statement from Melissa.

"I certainly hope so," the Alpha admitted quietly. "I’ve waited so long, watching everyone else around me be happy while I was just withering away alone. It’s not like the fact that it’s a boy bothers me; not at all, it’s just…"

"You’re unsure if it really is? Why he’s keeping that from you? Whether you can trust him? What might come your way if you truly hold on to him? Whether you’re just imagining it because you’ll be the last of your friends to find your mate?" Each question was rhetorical in nature, and even though he knew his mother well, Scott was always amazed by her quick grasp of the situation. "Sweetheart, those are questions no one can answer for you. You know I’d be just as happy with a boy by your side as with a girl, as long as you’re happy." To emphasise her words, she reached for Scott's hands again and pulled him into a gentle hug.

"But I’m scared," he confessed softly. "Scared of messing it up or being disappointed. What if Stiles is right, and it’s all just a plan by Gerard to get back at me? What if something happens to you or my friends because of it? Mom, it’s just such a huge burden on my shoulders." In the end, he clung to Melissa, who soothingly stroked his back and held him tightly, which felt incredibly comforting.

"You won’t mess it up, Scott. I may not be a werewolf or possess any extraordinary abilities, but I can certainly tell real love from bad acting, and that boy is clearly in love with you. You believe he’s your soulmate, so I’m telling you: give it a try. Things can always go wrong, but that’s why you have your friends and your mother to catch you and hold you up." Melissa pressed a fleeting kiss to Scott’s forehead and gently nudged him to look at her. "Besides, he has really excellent manners and seems far more romantic than any man I’ve ever met," she added jokingly.

"Mom," the Alpha rolled his eyes and couldn’t suppress a chuckle. "He can be quite different."

"I can vividly imagine that," she confirmed. "But that soft and longing look he gave you today speaks a completely different language. No matter what you decide, I’ll stand by you."

"Thank you." Scott pulled away from the hug. "You’re the best mom in the world."

"Until I give you grounding again, which seems to be losing its effect anyway. I could just ban Luke from our house, along with Stiles…" Melissa tapped her chin thoughtfully.

"Mom!"

"What?" she asked innocently.

"You’re just as impossible!" protested the werewolf.

"I’m a mother; it kind of comes with the territory, sweetheart. Now go do your homework or study for some test because, whether you have a new boyfriend or not, or your duties as a protector, you’re still a student, and I want to go to my son’s prom without worrying about his grades."

Scott shot his mother a mock poisonous glance before retreating to his room, flopping down onto his bed. It had felt good to talk to her. She was on his side, and that was the most important thing, alongside Stiles. If Stiles could also become friends with Luke, and vice versa, there was a real chance that this relationship wouldn’t turn into a moderate disaster. The thought struck him: no, it definitely wouldn’t, because they somehow loved each other.

Lost in thought, he rolled up the sleeve of his T-shirt and glanced at the two letters that still adorned his skin: an L and an A, not an L and a T. Why did everything have to be so complicated? The label "simple" had somehow vanished from his life plan, and that didn’t change when he sat down to tackle his homework. It was crazy how a single person and a single week could turn everything upside down.

Chapter Text

Stiles chewed on the back of his pen. His desk was cluttered with printed newspaper clippings, photos, and scraps of paper. He couldn't execute his plan today since it was Sunday. The idea was simple, yet brilliantly so: he, or rather Derek, would call Queen Charlotte's & Chelsea Hospital and pose as a probate investigator. With Kate's death certificate, which indeed listed a Luke Taylor as her son, it would be easy to obtain information about him. If he could get his hands on the original birth certificate, he could prove that Luke had been an Argent from birth. Furthermore, this would imply that Daniel Taylor's son could actually be the soulmate of his best friend. However, thinking it through correctly also brought the realisation that he might lose that very friend to Gerard.

Resigned, Stiles tossed the pen into a corner of his room and pulled out a photo. It showed a man in his early forties with short, dark brown hair and green eyes. The piercing gaze suited the black suit he wore, combined with a black shirt and a black tie. The man had his hands clasped behind his back. His prominent nose gave him an almost majestic appearance, and it was immediately clear that he felt superior to those around him. Despite the many other men surrounding him, all in business attire, he stood out. His figure could be described as tall and athletic. The suit fit perfectly, accentuating his slightly raised chin and cheekbone structure. This man was Daniel Taylor.

Stiles had circled his head multiple times with the pen and was now reaching for a pencil to chew on instead. The photo had been taken at a conference on combating arms smuggling in the Third World. There was a certain irony in having one of the leading figures in the manufacture of killing tools present at such a gathering.

He rummaged through his notes and pulled out a picture of Luke from a stack of seemingly haphazardly thrown-together papers. The name of the boy wearing number 9 from the boys' team at Sancton Wood School wasn’t indicated, but it was clear that it had to be the Brit. Luke had his hands raised in the air, wearing a red jersey emblazoned with a white unicorn. He had black training shorts, black socks, and orange-and-white cleats. In his right hand, he held a trophy and was being carried by his teammates. The sweaty tips of his dark blonde hair were stuck to his forehead; his usual hairstyle looked quite different. He had even inquired about the shoe model: Nike Mercurial Superfly 7 Elite FG – just as Scott had described them to him. You could even faintly see the braces that revealed his victorious shout. All names and details had been blurred or blacked out; there were no player statistics, nothing.

Stiles placed the photo of Daniel alongside the one of Kate and fished out another picture from the stack, this time of Kate. She was positioned on the left side of her son. Stilinski Junior studied the family for a while, deep in thought. His initial assumption had been wrong: Luke's gaze resembled not only Kate's but also Daniel's. That condescending demeanor, the conviction of superiority, the shimmering green eyes laced with a hint of gray, the jawline, the cheekbones, the shape of the face… He pulled out his phone and took a picture of both parents before merging them using a face app, and lo and behold, it actually looked quite a bit like Luke.

Sighing, he set his smartphone aside and massaged his temples, the pencil barely escaping his gnawing. He already knew all of this. That wasn’t what bothered him. He had simply hoped he was wrong, that Luke could be exposed as a liar, but the similarities were undeniable. He was a combination of his parents. But that also meant they had to be on their guard, even more than usual. There had been no information about the relationship between son and father, but Stiles firmly believed it couldn’t have been marked by love. Daniel Taylor was a busy man and surely didn’t have time to care for his child. Not to mention he didn’t seem like the type to do so. Luke couldn’t have been lying about that either.

“Damn, damn, damn,” muttered the brown-haired boy, running a hand through his tousled hair. Why did he distrust him if he hadn’t lied to them so far? Because he had been a jerk to him? No, Stiles could handle that; he had managed to get along with Jackson after all. It just sounded too much like a fairy tale, and he knew that those rarely corresponded to reality: The rich boy from overseas appears in a sleepy little town like Beacon Hills, spins a mysterious tale about his soulmate mark, almost touching in its sentimentality, and finds his soulmate in the boy who had put his grandfather in a wheelchair. There were just too many coincidences. One is an event, two is a coincidence, three is a pattern, and four is a motive. That was the very phrase he had learned from his dad, which he had underlined and circled the word "motive."

What was Luke’s motive? Stiles was pretty sure he was indeed head over heels in love with Scott. Those looks in class, his best friend’s tales – no one could act that well. Not even Kate could have lied so convincingly, and she had managed to deceive Derek. No, that couldn’t be it. The word “motive” led to Gerard’s name, which he had highlighted with a red marker. That could very well be the motive: a favor for the man who was a piece of family to him and pretended to show interest and affection. Yet, Luke’s behavior just didn’t fit into that pattern.

From Gerard, another arrow led to the word “demon.” That strange ninja, as Erica and Boyd had described him, who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. The new secret weapon of the old Argent, capable of holding two werewolves in check simultaneously. Of course, a certain level of preparation and planning had been necessary, as they had discovered, but it was still an impressive feat. This creature under Gerard’s control worried him as much as Jackson had as a Kanima. Unlike Jackson, however, the ninja seemed capable of independent thought and action, not just mindlessly killing.

Erica and Boyd were on the mend and would fully recover in the next few days or weeks, but Stiles knew this was only because Gerard wanted it that way. It was meant to be a warning. A warning to them all. The desired effect had certainly not been lost, as Derek was filled with self-reproach, which in turn weakened his entire pack.

A simple line connected Luke to Allison. Cousin and cousin. Luke had behaved politely towards her, shy, almost reserved. The same went for Isaac, whom he had later added to his mate with a plus sign. Stiles scratched thoughtfully above his left eyebrow. It was impossible to determine whether that was part of a plan they didn’t know about or not.

But the main problem was Scott, to whom he now added a plus sign next to Luke’s name. It was undeniable that they complemented each other, and also that his best friend was head over heels in love with the dark blonde. But what did Gerard gain if they fell in love, truly fell in love? If the werewolf and his grandson connected, truly became mates, there was a risk that the former would choose the latter, but the opposite could also happen. They also had the opportunity to bring Luke over to their side through Scott. Stiles was 99% sure that they were indeed soulmates. But why would Luke lie about that? How could Gerard possibly know that they belonged together?

His gaze shifted to Allison and Isaac, then to the pairing of Luke and Scott. Over the names of the two humans, he scrawled a large “J” for “Hunter,” and over the names of the two supernatural beings, a “W” for “Werewolf.” Stiles strongly suspected that Luke had also been trained in his family's craft, perhaps even better than Allison. Assuming they were both hunters, both grandsons of Gerard, and both had a werewolf as a mate, could Gerard deduce from this simple pattern that it would be the same for his grandson? But what would he gain if they truly fell in love? He risked losing access to his financial resources, having to share his sphere of influence.

Hastily, he scribbled the word “Love” between a new connection that Gerard had drawn to his two grandchildren. He crossed it out next to Allison and put a question mark next to Luke. His gaze oscillated between the trio of the Argent family. Putting everything on one card was not the old man’s style. He planned wisely ahead and kept himself in the background, waiting to strike. Did he perhaps love his grandson after all? Did he feel guilty for having failed so miserably with Kate?

No. The young detective, who had undoubtedly come into his own by now, shook his head decisively. Gerard Argent was incapable of feeling love, for anyone but himself. Then it dawned on him. Suddenly, he crossed out the word love next to Luke and Gerard as well. That might be it. The old man didn’t understand how love worked. He believed he couldn’t lose his influence because it was utterly irrational for him to think that his grandson could slip away from him. After all, Luke loved him, but he also loved Scott. Between Luke, Gerard, and Scott, Stiles drew a triangle and wrote the word “Revenge” between the werewolf and the old man. He then fixated on this simple emotion, deep in thought.

What if Gerard Argent planned his revenge by robbing Scott of something even more important than his mother, more important than Stiles, more important than Allison? Would he really go that far? He had been willing to kill Jackson to resurrect him as something worse, and he had also let Allison fall by the wayside once she was no longer useful to him. Could this also be the case here?

The creaking of his bedroom door jolted him from his thoughts. Derek stood in the doorway, armed with a tray that held a cup of coffee and a small bowl of pretzels. A faint smile on his lips, he approached and simply set the tray down on Stiles' notes.

"Hey!" protested Stiles.

"You need to take a break, Stiles," the werewolf said gently, running his hand over Stiles' neck. "Have you managed to figure anything out with your hours of brooding?"

"Just a few hunches," the younger boy sulked, grabbing a pretzel to nibble on. "Nothing concrete."

"That's because you're being way too intense." Derek ran his fingers through Stiles' hair and then buried his nose in it. "A little distraction will surely help you find the solution."

"Mhm, and what does this distraction look like?" A grin spread across Stiles' face. "Does it involve something not quite suitable for minors?"

"I'm certainly not giving you any alcohol," the Alpha quickly dismissed the idea. "It's bad enough that you and Scott drink behind my back occasionally."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever – party pooper," grumbled the sheriff's son.

"But I haven't said I wouldn't be available for other activities," Derek grinned widely, then suppressed a sigh when his mate didn't take the bait on that suggestive invitation. That was a sign that this topic must be weighing heavily on him. With a loud protest from the detective, Derek simply scooped him up and sat down in Stiles' swivel chair, placing Stiles on his lap. After a tender kiss on the neck, the werewolf turned to the notes and was taken aback.

"I just can't seem to make sense of it, Derek. For some reason, I can't find the link, the connection that ties the whole story together, that makes it real. This goes beyond Gerard's usual style," the younger boy sighed, pained.

"No, it doesn't. You have another problem," Derek corrected him, earning a puzzled look in return. "You already have the solution: it's exactly what you think, but it means admitting that you might lose Scott."

That was indeed what weighed so heavily on Stiles. Of course, his conclusions made sense, at least up to a certain point. Gerard Argent was also foolish enough to believe that grandfatherly love would be enough to tether a lovestruck teenager – it was about the fact that he would finally have to accept the possibility of losing Scott to someone like Luke. Contrary to Luke's promises, his assurances that they would never face each other – that danger would become real with this admission.

"You think so too?" Stiles whispered, reaching for a pretzel stick.

"There are a lot of coincidences, yes – and save your silly remark for later, okay – but I also believe they're meant to be together," the Alpha confirmed, nibbling on another pretzel stick that his mate offered him.

"But why would Luke lie? I mean, he’s not just in love with Scott; I think he would want to wear him like a second skin. A creepy thought, but still…" Stiles sipped his coffee and reviewed his notes again while Derek scratched his belly.

"Maybe he doesn’t even know himself?" Derek suggested.

"He must know what his birth name is! I mean, you know your name is Derek Samuel Hale, right?" Stiles took another sip from his cup. "That’s way too vague."

"I know, but that might not apply to someone like Luke." The werewolf’s gaze fell on the photo of Daniel Taylor, and he studied it for a while before shifting his focus to Kate and repeating the process. "From what I gather about this Daniel Taylor, he wouldn’t have been particularly happy that his child bore the last name of his ex, would he? Doesn’t he seem a bit possessive and arrogant?"

"You think he changed the original name right after he was born? Or as soon as he got custody of him?" Stiles furrowed his brow and pondered. That could make sense. The subjective assessments and any potential psychological profile he had, purely as a hobby, about Daniel Taylor, based on the sparse information he had managed to find, could indeed support such a conclusion.

"That’s quite possible, but why wouldn’t Gerard tell him? I mean, it would be a great leverage, but the scar probably covers the mark. It should have shown itself eventually, at the latest when it appeared on Scott. Not even that old lunatic could predict who his grandson’s soulmate would be. Do you really think he would rely on a simple assumption?" Stiles turned in Derek's lap to look him in the eyes.

"Have you ever considered that he might have given him that scar?" Derek slowly slid his fingers under Stiles' shirt, tracing a line down to his belly button. "It could be a simple cut or something, as long as it’s deep enough."

The young detective found it hard to concentrate now, as his mate’s touches were usually enough to lure him into the bedroom, or the kitchen if they were alone. He bit his lip and closed his eyes. Of course, it was within the realm of possibility that Gerard had something to do with that scar; he would just have to know that the mark would appear in that exact spot.

"This idea has a catch," Stiles whispered softly, leaning against his boyfriend, clearly enjoying his touches.

"Hm?" Derek responded, gently kissing him on the back of the head.

"No one knows where a mark will appear. There’s a certain probability, but…"

"What if he did it on a whim?" Derek interjected.

"But that would be incredibly reckless, and it could backfire spectacularly," Stiles replied.

"As if that has ever stopped Gerard."

"I…" The detective was interrupted by a kiss on his lips, which completely derailed his train of thought. Without resistance, he let Derek carry him to the bed. He needed a break, and he was going to take one now. Later, he could deal with all the outstanding and unclear questions. Right now, it was impossible for him to concentrate, as Derek's hand resting just above the waistband of his joggers was enough to make him forget everything around him. Almost everything, because the fear of losing his best friend still lingered, albeit more fleetingly. No, he wouldn’t lose Scott to Gerard, and he certainly wouldn’t lose him to Luke, should that one turn out to be a dead end.

Chapter Text

“Wait, what?!”, Stiles burst out as Scott shrank further into the back seat of the Camaro. Of course, he had to tell his best friend about the weekend, and the reaction was far more intense than he had anticipated.

“I guess we’re together now,” the werewolf mumbled sheepishly.

“That can’t be true!”, Stiles exclaimed, gesticulating wildly with his hands; so wildly that Derek, in the passenger seat, shot him a warning glance, which was expertly ignored. “He didn’t even take a full week to win you over?”

Scott could partly understand his best friend’s anger, as well as his intense reaction, but he didn’t see why he was being scolded about the timeline. “What do you mean by that?” he asked, a bit snippily, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not even a full week – that sounds a bit like you’re calling me a slut.”

“I… I wasn’t…” Stiles shook his head in horror, drawing it back in. “That’s not what I meant, it’s just…”

“It’s just what?” The werewolf tapped his fingers impatiently on his upper arm.

“It’s just so early, and Luke is – he’s…” Concern flashed in his bro’s eyes.

“Stiles is worried about losing you to someone else completely,” Derek finished his partner’s sentence. Stiles shot him an angry glare.

“Thanks,” he snapped, turning back to Scott. “But he’s right,” came the quiet confession. “I’m really scared of losing you, bro.”

“You’ll never lose me, Stiles.” The werewolf shook his head vigorously, shifting his stance. His arms uncrossed and wrapped around his best friend as best as they could. “We belong together; we always have.”

“Yeah, but now we’re both in a relationship.” He shrugged helplessly, shifting uncomfortably in the embrace. “You and me.”

“We were already in one before, right? Allison and I were a couple too?” Scott pointed out.

“Yeah, sure – but this time it’s different.” Stiles raked his fingers through his hair.

“Because Luke is a guy?”

“No, because he’s different from Allison. She was and is a nice girl, with her heart in the right place. You can trust Allison. She stands by us, no doubt about it, but with Luke…” The sheriff’s son gritted his teeth. “He’s Grandpa’s favourite, plus he shows a high level of emotional coldness, while being impulsive at the same time, as evidenced with Jackson, and he comes from a completely different world, a whole different sphere. I just don’t want him to hurt you, that’s all.”

“‘He would never!’” Scott responded without hesitation. Something inside him told him that Luke would never intentionally hurt him. He loved him too much for that. The dream had felt so real, their kiss so beautiful, his touches so gentle and protective – Gerard or not; his boyfriend would never stab him in the heart.

“You don’t know that,” Stiles whispered. “You can’t know. It could all just be an elaborate plan by Gerard to drive you away from us.”

“No.”

Both Scott and Stiles looked over at Derek in surprise as he firmly stated “No.” The Alpha kept his eyes fixed on the road as he continued. “From the way you’ve described him, Stiles, he can’t. He can’t hurt him, just like I can’t hurt you.”

“Oh, you can,” the detective retorted sharply. “Regularly, even.”

“Not like that,” Derek replied, irritated. “I genuinely believe he loves him.”

“You believe that?!” Stiles was incredulous, and even Scott couldn't hide a degree of surprise. He had least expected support from Derek.

“You’re both too young for this.” The young Hale shrugged before continuing, “Stiles believes he’s a hunter, like his grandfather, his mother, and the rest of the family. If he truly loves you, Scott, he will expose his true self for you.”

“Expose himself?” The Alpha furrowed his brow.

“If Jackson or the twins come after you, he won’t just stand by and watch. It must be nearly unbearable for him to see you get hurt. If there’s really more to our overseas wonder boy than he’s letting on, he’ll try to save you. If you’re serious enough, he’ll draw on all his training.”

Another incredulous look passed between the two friends.

“That’s your brilliant plan?” The sheriff’s son shook his head. “You’re completely insane, Derek. You want Scott to get beaten up, hoping that Luke will lose his cool? And then what?”

“Then you’ll have certainty about whether he’s being honest with Scott or hiding something.”

On this point, the two friends were in agreement again: it was a ridiculous plan. But it wasn’t just that which stopped Scott from agreeing to the suggestion. A part of him knew, for whatever reason, that Luke was hiding something from him. Whether it stemmed from shame or feelings of inadequacy, or if it had something to do with Gerard's plans: his boyfriend was keeping a secret. But he didn’t want to know – his trust in Luke had to be blind, and it already wasn’t entirely so, because Luke was so reluctant to tell him about the scar.

“We’re not doing that,” he decided. “Provoking such a situation won’t help anyone. In the end, Luke would feel pushed into doing something stupid, and I don’t want that.”

“Exactly, because…” Stiles blinked, slightly perplexed, pausing to make sure Derek understood that despite their disagreement, he and Scott were a team. “You don’t want to think about the consequences for him?”

“Of course?” Scott tilted his head. “Would you agree to a test because of Derek?”

“I… of course not,” he admitted, immediately retreating. “But that has nothing to do with it! Derek isn’t a… a…”

“Derek is just as much of a monster if that’s the word you’re looking for,” his best friend interjected with a latent sharpness in his voice. “Just like most of your friend group. Even your former crush is a banshee. Would you do this to any of them?”

“No, but…”

“There’s no ‘but’, Stiles. Luke is my boyfriend, and it’s my job to protect him, just like I protect you, or Allison, or Isaac. We’re together right now, and that’s not up for debate. I love him, and he loves me; even Derek thinks Luke is being honest.” Despite his grand words, despite all the love and devotion he felt for his boyfriend, there was a hint of doubt within him that he tried to hide as best as he could.

“As you wish,” the detective threw his hands up in a theatrical gesture. “You might end up killing us all with this, but fine…” Just as Scott was about to apologise for his harsh words, he caught a glimpse of his best friend grinning widely in the rearview mirror. “I hope your lover is really as rich as he claims, bro – because protecting your budding romance is going to cost you a pretty penny.”

“What?” The werewolf blinked in surprise. “So, you’re not mad at me?”

“I was never mad at you, Scott, just worried about you, that’s all. Since you really seem to love Richboy, and even my own mate,” Stiles shot Derek a disgruntled look, “feels the need to undermine me on this, I’ll do my best to support you in keeping him around and getting him away from his crazy, disgusting brainwashing grandpa.”

Scott could have cried tears of joy. This was the Stiles he knew, his bro, whom he loved with all his heart. A weight lifted from his chest, as choosing between Luke or Stiles would have been incredibly hard, if not impossible.

“But only if you get him to introduce me to his dad AND,” the pale index finger was raised dramatically, “any potential babies get me as their godparent.”

“Nutcase,” the Alpha laughed, relieved, wrapping his arms around Stiles from behind. “I love you, bro, you know that?”

“Of course, just like Derek, Lydia, Isaac, Allison, and the whole world,” came the prompt boastful reply.

“Then you two can prove just how much you love each other,” Derek interrupted the sibling duo in spirit as they basked in their heartwarming declarations.

“Hmm?” Stiles turned to his mate with a questioning glance. “Are you jealous?”

“No, but Scott’s new boyfriend and Jackson seem about ready to go for each other’s throats,” he said, unbuckling his seatbelt.

Both of them peered out of the car, which had come to a stop, and could see Jackson and Luke gesturing wildly at each other. The former looked tense and angry, while the latter… well, the Brit’s gestures were quite clear. It seemed like it wouldn’t be long before they would come to blows. The object of their dispute seemed to be firmly established: a parking spot that Jackson’s Porsche had apparently taken up today.

“This can’t end well,” Scott murmured, hurriedly getting ready to get out.

“I’m right behind you,” Stiles agreed, though it was unclear who his words were directed at: his best friend or his mate, who had also exited the car.

“That’s always been my parking spot!” echoed across the schoolyard. A small crowd of onlookers had gathered around the two arguing parties.

“Is there a sign anywhere?” Luke’s voice dripped with provocation. “Undereducated wannabe with a second-rate car?” He looked around as if searching for evidence. “I don’t see one.”

“If necessary, I’ll get a restraining order,” Jackson threatened, his pale skin flushing a subtle shade of red from all the pent-up anger that was about to erupt.

“Oh, I’m trembling already.” A wide grin spread across the Brit’s face. “Daddy, the successful small-town lawyer, will give me hell, huh?” To emphasise his feigned fear, he stretched out his hands. “Hmm, so far, I’m not feeling any fear.”

“My dad has already successfully obtained a restraining order against your lover.” Jackson smirked maliciously as he noticed the colour drain from Luke’s face for a moment. “Surprised that I know about you two? You should be careful where you get busy in the school building.”

Luke didn’t react, and this seemed to spur Jackson on to keep taunting: “You wanted to keep it a secret, huh? I almost threw up listening to you two.” The crowd roared with laughter at the verbal exchange.

Scott, standing with Stiles and Derek at Luke’s back, was ready to charge in, but the other Alpha held him back with a hand on his chest, shaking his head slightly.

There was something in Luke’s expression, something predatory that reminded Scott so much of his mother. Like a wildcat, a tiger ready to pounce. It wasn’t a question of if, but when. He seemed to be waiting for the right moment. Of course, he would be completely outmatched by the werewolf. Scott could feel the anger, the rage, and above all, the hatred. Those emotions threatened to overwhelm him. He held his breath. For a brief moment, he was about to shake off Derek’s hand, if necessary with force, and intervene when something happened.

“And you?” Luke asked surprisingly calmly. “What about you, huh?” The co-captain of the lacrosse team looked genuinely taken aback and uncertain for a moment before his opponent continued. “Who do you have? A girlfriend who apparently left you hanging.” A smirk appeared on his face. “Or did you just not perform in bed? Couldn’t get it up? Too nervous? Went right in your pants while you were touching her?”

Both combatants narrowed their eyes into slits as they focused on each other so intensely that they seemed oblivious to everything around them. Neither the roaring crowd, who seemed excited about the impending fight, nor their friends, nothing. It was only when a female voice rose above the din that the chatter abruptly ceased.

“Interesting how much has already leaked about our relationship, Jackson,” Lydia commented dryly on the argument. Immediately, most of the attention shifted to the strawberry blonde, who appeared bored as she twirled a lock of hair around her finger. “At least you seem to have done your research,” she conceded towards Luke. “And it looks like you have the better car.” Her gaze shifted back to Jackson, who wore a grimace of anger and shame. “Two little boys fighting – how about you settle this like real men?” She nodded towards the two cars, whose front bumpers were almost touching.

The fighters squinted their eyes until Luke found his voice again and nodded. “Excellent idea. Something simple: a little drag race on a long straight. Whoever is faster gets the parking spot.” He added with a smirk, “Provided you dare.”

Jackson shook his head, as if swatting away a bothersome insect, and then growled, “Of course, what else? Today, after school, at the old train depot, 4:30 – be on time, or you’ve already lost before you start.”

“I never lose,” Luke shot back tersely.

“Brave boys,” Lydia commented on the unfolding drama. “And you, Jackson, will let our newcomer have the parking spot, or someone very specific is going to get angry.” She gestured towards the trio of Stilinski, Hale, and McCall. Jackson grumbled something under his breath as his gaze landed on Derek, and he reluctantly chose one of the many available parking spaces. Luke and Scott exchanged glances, but the former quickly averted his eyes, focusing instead on parking the Mercedes before hurrying into the school building, accompanied by the strawberry blonde.

“Wow,” Stiles whistled quietly. “Without Lydia, that situation would have escalated.”

“Yeah,” Scott replied, shouldering his backpack.

“Tell Jackson to give him the parking spot without a fight, or I’ll get angry, and he should come find me later,” Derek said as he got back into his car, leaving the two friends standing there in silence.

“Ouch.” The detective shook his right hand. “This is going to end badly for Jackson.”

“For Luke too,” the Alpha grumbled, quickening his pace. It was time to set his friend straight, and he intended to do it properly.

Chapter Text

“Let me handle this,” Stiles whispered to Scott as he walked past him, pushing him around the next corner. “I’ll talk to him.” He peeked around the corner and could see Luke chatting with Lydia.

“Why do you want to do this?” the Alpha hissed. “It’s my friend who messed up.”

“Because I have a different approach with him, and I want to try something,” his best friend replied calmly. “Can you hear what they’re saying to each other?”

Reluctantly, the werewolf perked up his ears and was indeed able to follow the conversation. He motioned for Stiles to be quiet with a finger to his lips and tried to block out all the other noises around him. It took a few moments, but then he was tuned in to the pair.

“Getting into it with Jackson isn’t particularly smart,” Lydia said, sounding slightly condescending. “He’s still one of the most popular students at Beacon Hills High.”

“Why should I care?” Luke replied indifferently. “If he wants to show up with Daddy, fine. I’ll just bring in dozens of specialists in American law from New York, Manhattan, or God knows where. That damn parking lot belongs to me.”

“But it’s not about the parking lot at all.” The banshee made a statement, not a guess. “It’s about the fact that he outed your little liaison with Scott.”

The loud slam of a locker made Scott flinch. At Stiles’s worried glance, he merely shook his head slightly and continued to listen. Luke’s heartbeat was irregular, his breathing shallow, and his pulse was racing. The werewolf had a stony expression, a hardened gaze, and a displeased twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“It’s not a liaison; Scott and I share much more than that,” he snapped at her fiercely. “We belong together, and I won’t let some arrogant jerk, who’s co-captain of a barely mediocre school team, ruin that for me. What I do with Scott is nobody’s business but ours.” Despite the anger, rage, and latent hatred that tinged Luke’s voice, combined with a harsh insult, there was also, grotesquely, a gentle tone.

“But you’re telling me.” Another astute observation from Lydia.

“I’m not telling you anything,” he retorted. “This is a matter between us.”

“I respect that, but even a tiger needs backup now and then,” she replied calmly and unflinchingly. “You may have been an excellent lone wolf until now, but that’s not how it works. I strongly suspect that Scott is your first boyfriend, and that’s why you’re acting this way. There’s nothing wrong with being with a boy and showing it. But from now on, you have responsibilities. Not just for yourself, but also for him, and that puts him in serious trouble.”

The werewolf raised his right eyebrow, his mouth falling open in disbelief. Lydia was currently giving Luke a dressing down. Why? Because she and the Alpha were good friends? Because he had helped Aiden out of a jam? Did she feel responsible for him, guilty even?

“I hate it when people say ‘lover.’ Scott isn’t my lover; he’s my friend.” Luke was becoming harder to understand, and the Alpha could easily picture him awkwardly rubbing his shoulder against his cheek. “And it’s my job to protect him, not the other way around. That jerk humiliated him in front of the whole school, and I’m going to take care of that.”

“With what?” A brief moment of silence followed before Lydia continued calmly. “He merely confirmed something that’s been on everyone’s lips for a long time. You practically stare at Scott’s backside when he walks in front of you, and the fact that you share most of your classes with him is hardly a coincidence. No offense to Scott, but when a guy like him steps out of a car like that, it’s a bit unusual.”

Silence. An oppressive silence, during which Scott mentally noted to ask Lydia what type of man would need to step out of such a car to avoid being considered unusual. He knew exactly what word she had meant. It was just astonishing how empathetic and patient she was with Luke. The Brit resembled a spoiled, sulky boy whose secret of sneaking cookies after brushing his teeth had just been revealed.

“And?” Stiles whispered quietly. “What’s going on?”

“Lydia’s talking to him,” his best friend explained.

“Very perceptive,” huffed the Sheriff’s son. “I want to know what about.”

“About me and responsibility,” came the terse reply, before Scott tuned in more closely again.

“You’re one of Scott’s friends, right?” the dark blonde boy suddenly asked.

“I am,” Lydia confirmed.

“Do you think he’s really angry with me for not defending his honour?”

That sentence sounded so childlike and yet so beautiful that it brought a smile to Scott’s lips. Like a knight concerned for his maiden. Not that he saw himself as a wallflower in need of defending—he could handle that quite well on his own—but rather the fact that Luke, despite his anger and disgust towards Jackson, was still thinking about him.

“There’s nothing to defend, shining knight,” Lydia chuckled, amused. “Although a black suit of armor would probably suit you better, given your car.” Scott risked a glance around the corner and could see the strawberry-blonde girl placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder, and he had lowered his gaze. “Don’t be so uptight. Scott is a good friend, and I’m sure he knows how much you love him. I have a sixth sense for these things.”

“However, my decision to deal with Jackson this afternoon hasn’t changed,” the Brit stated resolutely. “He deserves a good thrashing, and I’m going to make him the laughing stock of the school.”

“I had a feeling you’d say that,” she sighed softly. “Boys and their toys. Well, go ahead, but always remember that you have a responsibility towards Scott too, and he has to work with Jackson.” With that, she let go of him and hung onto his arm. “We have biology together now, and I think it might be good for you to be known with the hottest girl at Beacon Hills High.”

“Oh really?” A smirk appeared on Luke’s face. “So that’s you?”

“It is, as you should well know.”

For a moment, a twinge of jealousy surged in Scott. Lydia, in her dark blue top, the patterned dark skirt, her curly hair framing her face perfectly, and those matching stilettos, looked well-placed next to his friend, who today wore dark, tight jeans, a black-and-yellow varsity jacket over a grey T-shirt that peeked out from the not-fully-buttoned collar, and mid-top grey-black sneakers. For a brief moment, he was reminded of Lydia when she was still with Jackson: the school’s power couple.

“She just can’t help herself, can she?” Stiles pulled him from his dark thoughts. He had leaned his head next to Scott’s, and they both watched as Lydia disappeared into the classroom with Luke.

“What?”

“Lydia has always been drawn to guys with high social status,” Stiles remarked, quickly adding in response to Scott’s furious look, “But she’s with Aiden now and just wants to help you.”

“I don’t need help; I can handle Luke on my own.”

“Be glad your rich boy isn’t just focusing on you. Lydia knows she has to keep her hands to herself; otherwise, Aiden will turn him into minced meat, which would force you to demote Aiden to a miniature pincher.” Stiles threw an arm around his shoulder. “Come on, we have class together now, just like old times.”

“Well, let’s hope so,” the Alpha murmured and shook himself. On one hand, he was glad that Lydia seemed to care for Luke, for whatever reason, but on the other hand, he wasn’t particularly thrilled about it, because somehow… he couldn’t quite name it. Besides, there was that absolutely ridiculous race happening today that he urgently needed to talk him out of. And he needed to read him the riot act. Even more urgently.

Chapter Text

Luke had proven to be an extraordinarily interesting conversation partner and seatmate. Lydia had noticed the rich and handsome boy from overseas on the very first day of her return, but wisely held back. It took a certain degree of courage and self-assurance, or foolishness, to take on Jackson. Anyone who wasn’t counted among his friends was regarded as scum. However, the Brit had not been deterred. True, the headmaster was sitting behind him, and Lydia knew from experience what a monster Gerard Argent could be, but that didn’t necessarily apply to his grandson.

To put it succinctly, he was exactly what every teenage girl desired: good-looking, athletic, intelligent, self-confident, and incredibly wealthy. His social status was, to put it bluntly, far above the average level of a quarterback or lacrosse captain. Thus, it was all the more surprising when Lydia realised who the Brit had his eye on: Scott. Luke could have had so much more. Nevertheless, that didn’t change the fact that she was interested in him. Besides, Scott was hardly capable of maintaining a proper relationship: even with Allison, the strawberry blonde had been on the verge of slapping him several times. While that whole Romeo and Juliet romance might have seemed charming at first glance, Lydia had realised early on that it wouldn’t end well. Scott and she got along well, just as Allison and she did, and when Lydia also realised that Luke Taylor was both the son of Daniel Taylor and the cousin of her best friend, she decided to take matters into her own hands. After all, Jackson certainly deserved a little slap after he had rejected her. Aiden notwithstanding, she was naturally happy with her soulmate, but one could certainly indulge in a little outside appetite, and a bit of rivalry impressed the trendiest and still most desirable girl at Beacon Hills High.

Long story short: Luke and she had decided to relocate their lunch break to a fancy restaurant downtown and skip the afternoon hours, as art, in his eyes, was a subject he had already deemed hopeless, and she was far too good to continue with the boring basic exercises. Accordingly, they found themselves at a table for two in an upscale establishment, the menu of which turned out to be both refined and exorbitantly expensive. Here too, the Brit had proven himself to be a gentleman: he took her jacket, pulled out her chair, then moved it back in, and immediately offered to treat her. She certainly liked that, as well as the view of a well-toned torso, the muscles slightly visible through his grey T-shirt. The only thing that bothered her was the braces, but one could overlook that if one wanted to. They were also being stared at accordingly; their attire was not entirely appropriate for the upscale establishment, or rather Luke’s subtly sporty style, but at the sight of the young man’s credit card, the waiter almost stumbled over himself. When her host asked if he should clear the place so they could be undisturbed, she smiled and shook her head. With a filet Wellington and fried potatoes for him, and linguine with lobster sauce, giant prawns, parsley, and lemon for Lydia, along with a suitable selection of non-alcoholic drinks, they engaged in conversation. It was almost a delight to watch him eat with such measure and enjoyment, rather than having to witness Aiden’s greedy gulping. Werewolves had an almost insatiable appetite – or perhaps hers was just a pig when it came to table manners.

“Is that Hugo Boss?” she asked him, nodding towards the college jacket hanging over the back of his chair. Of course, it wasn’t Hugo Boss; she was aware of that, but she wanted to draw him out a bit and make him let his guard down.

“Saint Laurent,” he replied casually.

“May I ask how much it cost?” Her gaze shifted from the garment to Luke, who merely shrugged. “You don’t know what you paid?”

“Not a clue – Jonathan went shopping one day and picked it up because he knows I prefer that style. I generally have little sense of costs. I know my car was expensive, as it has technology that isn’t usually found in a street-legal vehicle, but other than that…” He scratched the top of his forearm. “Probably more than Scott’s entire wardrobe?” he suggested somewhat helplessly.

“For sure,” she chuckled, taking another bite of her dish, which tasted exquisite. The price was certainly justified. She recalled coming here with Jackson for their anniversary once, a memory that lingered faintly.

“So that means the McCalls are poor?” the Brit concluded. “I mean really poor. The house is very lovingly and warmly furnished, but… everything seems so old and antique, but not in a positive way, more like inferior.”

The wealth of her companion must have been so substantial that it came with a corresponding detachment from reality. Lydia herself was not poor, by any means, and she regarded Scott’s house as a last resort at best, but to consider it inferior… well, he had a point. Compared to Jackson’s family home or her own, the McCall residence resembled a rundown shack. “Average, I’d say,” she suggested. “Why are you interested in that?”

“Because it’s my job to take care of Scott and Melissa,” he explained, cutting another piece of filet. “I’m after all his friend and therefore responsible for him.”

That sounded so chivalrous and so caveman-like that she had to restrain herself from laughing at him. He truly came across as the quintessential teen heartthrob: a bad boy on the outside, but with a gentle heart. In another life, he would have made the perfect boyfriend, but as it stood…

“Is that also why you flipped out earlier?” Lydia shifted the conversation to the topic that particularly intrigued her. She was well aware that Luke was awkward, especially since Scott was his first boyfriend, and that his exaggerated displays of affection likely masked an inferiority complex, but still, curiosity drove her; a curiosity that wanted to be satisfied.

He seemed to ponder her question for a moment. There was something in his eyes, those lovely grey-green eyes that blended perfectly with the noble pallor of his complexion, that seemed to wrestle with itself. His posture straightened slightly, and she almost braced herself for a rejection when he finally opened his mouth and nodded: “What’s going on between Scott and me is nobody’s business, only my closest confidants. That Jackson thinks he’s the king with a middle-class car and a slightly higher income or allowance, and I want to take that delusion away from him. Grandpa also told me that Jackson and Scott have had a somewhat tumultuous relationship – or had, rather – so my aversion towards him is pretty strong.”

That wasn't entirely true, as Jackson and Scott had managed to get along quite well by now. However, clearing up that inconsistency, or rather that lie, would neither be possible nor necessary today. It was more about the fact that this boy, who had revealed a little of his life to her (she was an excellent conversational partner and her charisma was outstanding), actually felt such a sense of responsibility for Scott. Real responsibility. That was astonishing.

“Is he your boyfriend or your mate?” The latter would explain why he was somewhat willing to deviate from his fixed opinion, as well as his disdain for Jackson. Luke had almost presented his boyfriend as the embodiment of perfection: Scott was intelligent, handsome, and affectionate. Only positive words had been spoken about Melissa too, which was unusual, as he had spoken quite plainly about Stiles in the same breath.

“Boyfriend,” Luke muttered, scratching his forearm again.

“You're putting so much effort into just a boyfriend?” she asked, surprised.

“It’s not that simple,” he deflected. “He could be, but I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” She raised her right eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because… because my soul mark has been taken from me. I can’t see it because it’s covered by a scar.” His tone hardened. “That’s why it’s all the more important for me to show Scott how serious I am about him.” Luke’s eyebrows furrowed, and he grimaced slightly. “I’ll take care of him, just like I will of his mother.”

Lydia struggled not to roll her eyes. He sounded just like the ideal protective boyfriend one wished for when lacking self-confidence. A clichéd teenage romance. If he were to find out that his great crush was a werewolf who had, among other things, put his beloved grandpa in a wheelchair, it would mean a mini-apocalypse for him. But that wasn’t her job. Her female intuition advised her not to confront Luke too much with this topic, at least not now, because then he would probably completely shut down. The fact that he was confiding in her at all was already a sign of how desperate he must be. Or he was as good an actor as she was, which, considering the genuinely affectionate declarations he made about Scott, seemed highly unlikely.

“The dream of every mother-in-law, huh?” she replied dryly, turning her gaze away from him as the waiter approached with the dessert menu.

“No idea? I don’t even know what to give Melissa to make her think I’m good enough to let me date her son properly.” The Brit was hiding his face well behind the barrier of paper and leather, almost as if he were embarrassed to talk about it.

“What century are you living in?” Lydia laughed, shaking her head. “You don’t have to give her anything.”

“But she’s the mother of my serious boyfriend,” he mumbled back. “I have to be just as acceptable to her as I am to Scott.”

“We’re living in the 21st century – imagine: you could even sleep with Scott casually if you wanted,” she rolled her eyes. How could someone be so backward?

“No.” Luke emerged again from behind the dessert menu, shaking his head vigorously. “I can’t do that, because the first time should be something special, something unique. With lots of preparation and calm in a safe environment. I don’t want a quick fling: I want Scott with every fiber of my being.” The moment he seemed to grasp what he had just said, he disappeared again, and only a pair of burning red ears testified to the embarrassment and shame he was likely experiencing.

This would be a tough task: transforming the chivalrous and virtuous poster-boy into a normal boy who would probably look fantastic in armor, but not in white, rather in black. For a moment, Lydia envisioned Luke at the annual Halloween ball, in pitch-black plate armor, with a cape and a hideously regal helmet, standing next to his princess, Scott, in a frilly dress and tiara. She chuckled, dismissing the thought.

“That sounds terribly romantic, but we’ve truly arrived in the 21st century. The days of Romeo and Juliet, Hamlet, Othello, and the like are honestly over, Luke.” She placed two fingers on the top edge of his dessert menu and pressed it down gently, which he allowed. “A tiger is a predator, not a cuddly kitten.”

“Wait… how do you know my nickname?” The dark-blonde boy tilted his head, seemingly forgetting to feel embarrassed, as curiosity now sparked in his expression.

“Because I’m good friends with Scott, Stiles, and Alison,” she explained with a crooked smile. “Also, I’m a woman and possess something like female intuition, which will probably remain forever hidden from your gender.” With that, she ran her fingers through her long, smooth hair. That usually worked like a charm, and it was no different with Luke: his entire posture shifted. He straightened up slightly, and for a fleeting moment, she noticed a tremor in his lips. Time to dig deeper. “But a tiger is also a loner, an alpha, just like the alpha of a wolf pack.”

The fact that Luke didn’t look surprised confirmed her suspicion: he knew something. Derek had spent an entire week pondering how to find out, through humane means (at Stiles’ intervention), whether the Brit had possibly been roughly informed by his grandfather about the happenings in Beacon Hills. Love-struck Scott saw him through rose-tinted glasses anyway, Stiles was far too focused on his past, and Allison was likely not ready to engage more with her cousin than necessary. That left only her, or Jackson, but then they might as well tattoo “supernatural beings” on their foreheads.

“What do you mean by that?” he asked, regaining his composure, as he had appeared slightly caught off guard by her statement.

“Scott is an alpha; he’s the captain of the lacrosse team, a natural leader. I sometimes compare him to a wolf who takes care of his pack, whether it’s his team or his friends. A social creature, while you…” Lydia paused for a moment, smiling inwardly, as she knew she had Luke hooked. “You’re also an alpha, probably the future captain of the football team, as I’ve heard, but you’re a loner. From what I gather, you don’t like relinquishing control and try to tackle all obstacles on your own. That won’t work with Scott, though.”

Their conversation was interrupted when the waiter approached them for their dessert orders, and they both opted for chocolate ravioli with lemon and mandarin sorbet. As soon as they were alone again, Luke fidgeted with his fingertips and tugged at his ear. He looked not only caught but also nervous, as Lydia had played her cards wisely, leaving him unsure whether she knew more about him than she was letting on. Of course, it had been a bluff, but it seemed to be working.

“Why wouldn’t it work with two leaders, hmm?” he seamlessly picked up on her observation. “Two strong leaders are better than one strong and one who submits.”

"Because you're not a leader," the banshee ventured, taking a wild guess. "And you would submit to Scott. After all, he’s your boyfriend, the one you want to protect, which includes protecting him from yourself. That’s a waste of your potential. What would you do, hypothetically, during a fight with Scott, hmm?" She placed her hand on his forearm, which was conveniently within reach as he reached for his glass of lemon water.

"Hope to never fight with Scott?" he suggested somewhat helplessly.

"Luke, that’s unrealistic, even with soulmates. I know what you’d do: you’d give in. That’s just in your nature." How did she know? She had a keen eye for people and a good understanding of human nature.

"I never give in," he huffed quietly. "A warrior never backs down. He stands tall, head held high, while nothing and no one can pass him by."

"You will, and more often than you’d like. That’s perfectly normal in a relationship; compromises are important and necessary." It was only half the truth, of course, as Aiden followed Lydia’s words without question because he loved her unconditionally, but Aiden was no longer an alpha, and even as one, he had never been a leader of a pack—just a cog in Deucalion's machine.

"Compromises dilute a fundamentally good solution," her conversation partner replied, pausing briefly as their desserts were brought to the table. "I’ve never been a fan of middle grounds. It’s either all or nothing."

"Then you’ll have a tough time with Scott," she smiled, tasting her dish, which was just as delicious as the main course had been. The chocolate ravioli melted in her mouth, and the mandarin sorbet had a wonderfully fruity note. "Selflessness doesn’t suit you either."

"How is it possible that you know me better than most people I’ve met?" he asked, a hint of amusement creeping onto his face. Ah yes, the braces—still a problem. They truly marred his handsome face in an unbearable way.

"Experience," she replied mysteriously. Luke and Jackson were far less different than either of them believed. She had been with Jackson long enough to understand how he functioned, and it seemed that Luke was similar.

"I kind of like you," he remarked.

"I can return that sentiment."

The rest of their conversation revolved around more trivial matters, with Luke mostly holding back on his own interests and allowing her more space to express herself. It was a refreshing change from her ex-boyfriend; he was genuinely more than just polite. After they settled the bill (where Lydia had distinctly seen the dollar signs flash in the owner’s eyes as he personally came to bid them farewell), Luke helped her into her jacket, held the door open, and she got to take her place once again in the Mercedes, which was far more luxurious than Jackson’s Porsche.

“Should I drop you off at home first?” the dark-blonde boy asked as he started the engine.

“No, I want to watch the race,” she answered, and she truly did, as it was human versus werewolf, and she would be able to draw further conclusions from it.

“Alright, then…,” a new grin spread across his features. “I suppose I’ll have to make a special effort to soak him.”

“We’ll see.” Indeed, they would, and she was already curious about how Scott and Derek would react.

Chapter Text

Scott and Stiles hadn't really expected the race to take place. Jackson had been made aware of what his Alpha thought about it, and their hopes rested on Lydia, who might bring Luke to reason. Still, driven by a gut feeling, they had made their way to the old railway depot. They used the walk as an opportunity for a conversation among best friends.

"So how does Richboy kiss in private?" Stiles asked curiously.

"What’s it to you?" huffed the werewolf, rubbing the back of his neck. This was beyond embarrassing—his best friend simply had no sense of decency or moral boundaries.

"Curiosity?" The sheriff's son draped an arm around his companion's shoulders and grinned widely. "So?"

"Pretty well," Scott sighed, ultimately conceding. "He kisses well."

"Well? That doesn't sound very promising," Stiles leaned in a bit closer. "Better than Allison?"

The Alpha had forgotten how annoying his best friend could be. Those boundaries that one typically wouldn’t cross out of decency were merely guidelines to him, easily pushed back as he pleased. What was he supposed to say in response?

"I don't compare Luke to Allison," Scott replied, biting his lip. That was a blatant lie. Unconsciously, he had made that comparison more than once.

"Yes, you do!" grinned Stiles, knowing. "Now don’t keep me in suspense."

"You have your own mate, don’t you? Why does my boyfriend interest you?" Scott rubbed his forehead and sighed softly. "Is there a marriage crisis between you and Derek?" A grin crept onto the werewolf's lips.

"Because he's your first." Stiles laughed as he moved closer to Scott. "I want to get to know my future brother-in-law from his nice side soon, or at least understand why he managed to win your heart, because he acts like a complete jerk around me."

To be honest, the Alpha had no idea how to respond to that. Luke's ambivalent behaviour was inexcusable, but somehow also uncorrectable. He was docile around Scott, yet he displayed a demeanor towards nearly all of his other classmates, except Lydia, that made it hard to like him.

"He kisses really well," Scott mumbled, making a tactical retreat, following the motto of "distracting from the actual topic."

"Aha!" Stiles exclaimed triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"You knew what?"

"That he’s good…" Mid-sentence, his best friend broke off, as they could already hear loud cheering and shouting from a distance. The time to the railway depot had flown by, or Scott had simply misjudged how long the walk would take. They exchanged incredulous glances before quickening their pace.

Derek's former hideout looked just as they remembered: dilapidated and dirty. Here, he had tried to control Erica, Boyd, and Isaac during the full moon. That was before they had moved to the loft. The latter was a much more pleasant place than the cold and unfriendly surroundings of this area. Nothing should have been happening here; the depot was even locked up, but grates could be detached from their anchors, and a crowd had already gathered around the black Mercedes and the grey Porsche.

“That can’t be happening,” Scott grumbled as he squeezed his way through the crowd of onlookers. It felt like the entire high school was present. The sounds of engines roared over the shouting and chattering. Jackson looked determined to put his opponent in his place, while there was no sign of Luke anywhere. The fact that the Mercedes was purring ominously was enough confirmation to locate the driver’s approximate whereabouts. Nothing could be seen through the tinted windows. The Alpha made his way purposefully to the driver’s door of the black sports car, only to his dismay find that Luke had apparently locked it.

A quick glance to the side revealed Stiles, who seemed to be having the same experience with Jackson. He pointed to his phone, which he had pulled from his pocket, shouting something that was lost in the noise of the crowd. Scott’s ears were already aching from the commotion.

“Open up!” he shouted, banging his fist against the driver’s side window. “I want to talk to you.”

When there was no response, he briefly considered breaking the door open by force, but there were too many witnesses around. Even though his reputation as the star athlete at Beacon Hills High had faded, it was still impossible for even an athlete to rip a car door from its hinges.

“Let him,” a female voice spoke up behind him. Scott felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see Lydia, who was clearly enjoying herself.

“You instigated this whole madness, so you’d better put an end to it!” he snapped at her, though the banshee didn’t seem the least bit perturbed.

“Be grateful I was quick-witted enough to redirect their aggression towards something harmless,” she replied calmly. “Otherwise, they would have torn each other apart.”

“Harmless? You call this harmless?” Scott’s eyebrows furrowed as he shrugged her hand off his shoulder. “Have you forgotten what Jackson is? This is incredibly dangerous, and Luke is far too proud to back down. Do you have any idea what could happen here? He could die!”

“He won’t. Just trust him.” Lydia grabbed Scott by the wrist and pulled him away from the Mercedes, which had now fully come to life. “He knows what he’s doing. Save your accusations for after the race.” With that, she turned and strutted forward, in her elegant and eye-catching manner, between the two cars. Dramatically, she raised her hands in the air and then began to count down slowly from five. Both the Mercedes and the Porsche vibrated in time with her count. When she reached zero, Lydia’s hands shot down, and the rear wheels of both cars spun out. Scott felt like he was about to go deaf from the noise his friend’s car was making. The smell of burning rubber, combined with the white smoke, created an unbearably intense atmosphere for a werewolf.

The cheers and roars of the crowd intensified as the two sports cars finally took off from their starting positions. Like caged predators suddenly granted their freedom, they shot forward, and even though Scott shouldn’t have been able to hear it, he picked up on a very distinct heartbeat. It was a sound that cut through the deafening noise around him.

Alongside the heartbeat came excited breaths and a mixture of sorrow and anticipation. Sorrow, because he had hurt someone who meant a great deal to him, and anticipation, because it was precisely because of that person that he couldn’t afford to lose. But there was also fear: fear of disappointing that someone. It would mean admitting to the mistake he had made. On top of that was wounded pride.

At that moment, the Alpha found it hard to remain just angry with his friend. Of course, it was a huge mistake to even get involved in this race, and it was absolutely unnecessary, but Luke’s fear of letting him down was almost palpable. He didn’t need a mirror to know that he was hinting at a smile, much to Stiles’ chagrin, who shot him an annoyed look.

With his superhuman senses, Scott was able to observe the spectacle of the race from a distance. The Mercedes quickly took the lead and was already past the old, decommissioned train that had been stationed on a lonely stretch of track when Jackson followed close behind. Scott could see Jackson’s eyes glowing blue through the Porsche’s windows. Internally, the Alpha prayed that he was far enough away for the crowd not to notice.

Both cars were now racing towards the crowd at breakneck speed, the black sports car still significantly ahead of the silver one. A surge of euphoria spread through Scott, one that clearly didn’t stem from his own feelings. Lydia remained at the starting position, not moving an inch as the competitors came into range. A quick glance at Jackson revealed his ordinary human eyes, while his hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Meanwhile, the spectators made way for the returning racers, and as soon as Luke passed Lydia, he likely pressed the brake, bringing the Mercedes to a stop shortly thereafter. Jackson followed several seconds later, wearing a sour expression.

Before anyone could get too close to Luke’s car, the tires squealed, and he executed a half donut, bringing the passenger side right next to Scott. The door swung open with a jerk, and without hesitation, he jumped in. The noise from outside was muted as soon as he was inside, only to be drowned out one last time by the roar of the engine before they sped off at breakneck speed, before the werewolf could even react. Luke stared stubbornly ahead, occasionally brushing his shoulder against his cheek. A sideways glance at Scott didn’t even seem to cross his mind.

“You’re angry,” Luke stated quietly, without any preamble.

“I’ll be really angry if you keep driving like this,” Scott corrected him. “It’s dangerous, not just for us, but for other road users as well.”

“I drive better than ninety percent of the people in this town,” the Brit shot back. “And I know my limits better than most.”

“Just like during the orienteering, huh?”

That simple yet pointed question made Luke actually ease off the accelerator. A furrow appeared on his forehead, and his knuckles turned white against the steering wheel, giving his skin in that area an extremely pale and unhealthy appearance. It didn’t take werewolf senses to recognize that he felt guilty, but Scott could also smell the desperation that accompanied that feeling: the fear of having lost him, of having disappointed him.

“How can I make it up to you?”

Scott hadn’t expected that question. He had anticipated an attempt at an explanation, a justification, a systematic tearing down of Jackson, combined with a blame-shifting onto him, but not a near admission of guilt. And that was precisely why he found it difficult to come up with a coherent response: he didn’t know himself.

“You don’t want to be with me anymore, do you?” Luke’s voice was barely above a whisper, and the sadness in his words made Scott let out a soft sigh. Instead of lecturing him, he decided to place his hand over Luke’s and then shook his head.

“No, I do want to, but honestly, I don’t know how to respond to that. You were hot-headed, reckless, and not only put Jackson in danger, but yourself as well. What if you’d gotten hurt or even died? Did you think about what that would mean for your family, your friends, for me?” He tried not to sound accusatory, but he managed it poorly.

Luke’s fingers twitched under the touch of his friend, but his gaze remained fixed on the road. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, making a pained expression. His shoulders sagged, and he shivered slightly, as if he were cold. After a moment of silence, they came to a stop, and Scott recognized his house as they parked in front of it.

“Do you mind if I want to be alone for a bit, Scott?” Luke pushed his lips inwards and scratched the side of his nose with his thumb. “No matter what I say or do now, it’s only going to make things worse.”

“I…” Scott hadn’t expected that either. Did he want to leave him alone? Should he? Could he? Why did he suddenly feel guilty, as if he had done something wrong? That wasn’t right. It couldn’t be right.

The passenger door swung open, and the Brit looked out of the window on the driver’s side. “I have something to take care of, excuse me.”

“Why are you angry with me now?” Scott directed his gaze at Luke and briefly considered whether he should gently force him to look at him. Luke avoided him, and yet the werewolf felt guilty somewhere because he couldn’t muster enough understanding for this situation.

“I’m not angry, but I can’t stand it when you’re down in my presence, at least not because of me,” Luke replied. “You haven’t done anything wrong – the fault is mine, and I will do my best to make it right. But until then, I need to figure out how, and I can’t do that in your presence.” He pressed his lips into a bloodless line before adding, “Please give your mother my regards.”

Somehow, Scott realised that he couldn’t reach his friend at all now, and so he decided to comply with his wish. “But you do know we can’t solve this problem like this, right?” he asked gently, getting out of the car.

“We?” Luke shook his head and actually looked him in the eye, quickly lowering his eyelids. “I need to solve this problem, not you.” With that, the door swung shut, and the car began to move, leaving Scott alone, utterly overwhelmed: overwhelmed by the situation, overwhelmed by his emotions, and above all, overwhelmed by himself. He hadn’t done anything wrong and yet felt absolutely miserable.

Chapter Text

Derek was absolutely furious. Scott had picked up on that over the phone. According to Stiles’ accounts, the Alpha had completely lost it. Without an intervention from his companion, he would have probably beaten Jackson to a pulp. Normally, Scott would have shown up himself to mediate, but he lacked the necessary motivation. He had taken to locking himself in his room, leaning against the door and lost in thought. Why did he feel so bad? Luke had made a mistake, not him.

He had been dwelling on this gloomy thought all afternoon since coming home. He just couldn’t understand it: his friend had even admitted to behaving badly, and yet it was he who felt like he was crawling on his hands and knees. The last time he had felt this way was when… when Allison had broken up with him. She had obviously made the right decision, not just because of her family, but also because of Isaac, but that didn’t really make it any better.

Should he call Allison? They were still good friends after all, and she knew a thing or two about heartbreak. Or Lydia? She seemed to have a way of connecting with his friend. Maybe Stiles? Derek even crossed Scott’s mind for a moment. He was older and more experienced. Isaac?

His decision was taken from him by the vibration of his phone. Surprised, he pulled it out of his pocket and was taken aback when the name of the Beacon Hills workshop lit up his display. It was 10:30 PM, and since the last mechanic's death, no one had been keen on working nights. Jackson had really made a mess of things in that regard.

“Hello?” Scott answered.

“Um… am I speaking to Scott McCall?” a male voice asked hesitantly.

“Yes, you are.”

“This is Billy, I… uh, well – your bike is ready.”

Scott blinked several times in confusion. “It’s half past ten in the evening. Besides, aren’t you the apprentice?”

“I am,” Billy confirmed. “We even met briefly once, if you remember.”

Silence. This Billy sounded a bit shy. The werewolf braced himself for the worst, but Jackson was no longer a Kanima and probably wouldn’t care much about his bike that needed repairs.

“The repair was supposed to take a while, wasn’t it?” he broke the silence. That’s what he had been told, much to his dismay, as it meant relying on carpooling.

“Yeah, well… the job was moved up on the priority list. I can’t say more than that.”

That sounded so mysterious again that Scott rolled his eyes. Why couldn’t something in this damned town go according to plan just once? Beacon Hills had a knack for creating problems where there were none and simultaneously solving them, even without supernatural beings.

It would take him a good half hour to walk to the workshop. Asking Stiles was out of the question, as he was undoubtedly busy with Derek, and he didn’t really want to bother the rest of his friends either, especially since a walk would surely help clear his head.

“Alright, I’ll be there in half an hour.”

The half-hour walk was a good estimate. It was cold outside, and only the faint glow of the streetlights managed to chase away the darkness a little. Not that Scott needed to rely on an external light source; his werewolf eyes could see just fine in the dark. That wasn’t what troubled him. It was more about the circumstances that had unfolded in the last few hours. Deep in thought, he kicked a few pebbles aside. He still didn’t feel any better; on the contrary.

For a moment, he considered asking Luke to drive him to the workshop, but he quickly dismissed that idea. His friend had made it clear that he preferred to be alone, and Scott wanted to respect that wish. The race had been stupid, but somewhere along the line, he had done it for both of them. The werewolf should have been furious, but he wasn’t. He felt a twinge of guilt for leaving Luke alone. He hated arguing anyway. He hadn’t really handled it well with Allison and seemed to have similar difficulties with her cousin.

That expression on Luke's face, that sense of guilt… something in him had briefly broken. Perhaps the Brit had felt embarrassed that Jackson had made their relationship public? Was that the reason? Because Luke belonged to the "upper class"? Good-looking, wealthy, athletic – it probably wasn't the done thing to date an average student. Hadn't Luke just recently told him that he didn't want his father and him to have any contact?

Sighing softly, he paused, shoving his hands into his pockets as he arrived in front of the workshop. The owner's name was displayed above the entrance in neon letters. From inside came the sounds of a ballpoint pen scratching far too hard against a piece of paper. All alarm bells were ringing at the heightened heartbeat that the werewolf sensed. Someone was nervous. Scott pricked up his ears a little more but couldn't hear anything else and couldn't detect any other living being inside.

Cautiously, he pushed the door open, and a loud bell announced his arrival. He cursed inwardly as he heard footsteps approaching him across the creaking wooden floorboards. He was already braced for an attack when a straw-blond boy, roughly his age, poked his head through the frame of the second wide-open door to his left. This must be Billy. He remembered him vaguely.

"You’re Scott, right?"

"I am," he nodded, smiling encouragingly. This was clearly the boy from the phone call.

"Good, then…" Billy gestured for him to follow him into the workshop. He was visibly nervous and tense. This wasn't surprising, considering what had happened to the last mechanic who had worked at this hour.

Scott's eyes widened at the sight of his bike. It looked completely different from what he had expected. The green of the fenders appeared richer and more vibrant, while the white of the other parts seemed significantly brighter, almost gleaming. Even the spokes had been polished to a high shine. New tyres, a new handlebar, and a new exhaust had also been added. Everything about his bike seemed new, apart from the fact that the outer parts had likely been left unchanged. A new black motocross helmet, complete with a decent visor and a pointed mouthguard, hung over the left handlebar. The same went for a brand-new pair of gloves, also in the same colour.

"Um, Billy, are you sure you haven't mixed something up? I mean, that is my bike, but…" Scott shook his head in disbelief. He had only wanted a few minor adjustments, not a complete overhaul with new equipment.

"I’m sure. The guy who came into the workshop in the afternoon was quite clear about it. My boss's eyes practically lit up with dollar signs when he asked me if I would do a night shift." Billy rubbed his upper arm awkwardly. "At 150 dollars, it was pretty obvious."

The werewolf narrowed his eyes and stared intently at Billy. "A guy? What do you mean? 150 dollars? That’s almost half the repair costs."

"Yeah, so today, around five, a boy showed up, about your age. I've never seen a car like that; it must have been incredibly expensive. Just the body alone probably cost more than our entire inventory and stock of spare parts. Anyway, he went straight to the boss and apparently offered him a nice sum to prioritise the repair of your bike. The boss even drove all the way to Sacramento to get the spare parts today. That kid must have paid him really well, if you ask me." Billy smiled shyly. "I hope you’re satisfied?"

Scott was, on one hand, overjoyed to have his bike back, but on the other hand, he was baffled and horrified, knowing that there could only be one boy in Beacon Hills their age who was wealthy enough and crazy enough to probably drop a few grand to put a dirt bike that had already seen its best years back into top condition.

"What make of car was it? Can you describe the boy?" Scott still wanted to be sure.

"Um, a Mercedes. No idea how he got his hands on that car. The licence plate was strange, not a Californian one, probably not even from the States. And the boy… um, let me think. He was a bit shorter than you, dark blond, and he had braces. Yes, exactly, I remember that because he shot me a poisonous look when I stared at his face for a second too long. They really stood out."

Scott massaged his temples. This was probably Luke's way of apologising. He immediately fished out his phone to call his friend, but of course, he didn’t answer. Anything else would have been too simple. Sighing, he slipped his smartphone back into his jacket pocket and noticed Billy, who was wearing a rather downcast expression. "This has nothing to do with you. I’m just a little… overwhelmed."

"Because the boy had your bike repaired for you?"

"That's clearly an exaggeration and completely unnecessary," the werewolf said, more to himself than to Billy. "But your work is commendable. I'm more than satisfied." He smiled at him. "I'll come by in the next few days to pay you, okay?"

"But we've already been paid?" Billy tilted his head slightly and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Yes, but I'm covering my own expenses, and at least you should receive the promised wages, alright?"

"Well, if you insist." The apprentice shrugged. "Anyway, I wish you a good ride home – that thing has a lot more power now. You'll be home in no time." A grin spread across Billy's face.

Scott returned the grin and mounted his bike. He pushed aside all thoughts of potential costs and Luke, at least for the ride home. After all, he was just a teenager who could get excited about fast vehicles, whether they had four wheels or two. He intended to enjoy this journey back and would return to his brooding afterwards, but not before.

Chapter Text

Derek prowled around his loft like a wild, enraged wolf. Stiles had rarely seen him this angry. Occasionally, his teeth flashed, dangerously bordering on a loss of control. Only by employing all his persuasive skills had Stiles managed to prevent his mate from doing something foolish. Derek's impulsiveness and his strong sense of responsibility towards the pack often hindered him from making rational decisions.

“Come on, sit with me,” Stiles ventured another tentative attempt to distract the werewolf from his restless pacing. “The food will get cold.” He had prepared a ribeye steak with Béarnaise sauce and baked potatoes for both of them, which had so far been outstandingly neglected.

“I’m not hungry,” Derek growled, stepping to the window and clasping his hands behind his back.

“You need to eat something, sweetheart. It doesn’t do you any good to run around the flat like you’re being chased by a tarantula while neglecting your physical needs. No one benefits from that. The Alpha needs to be fit…”

“I know that myself,” came the slightly irritated response from the very Alpha in question. A brief, awkward silence followed before he raised his voice: “I should have taken care of that Luke right away. It would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

“You could have taken out Jackson too,” Stiles retorted, earning an angry glare in return. “What? He’s barely controllable and jumps from one foolish thing to the next. Not to mention that he tried to kill us all when he was a Kanima. Don’t play the moral high ground now, Derek. If I were you, I’d eat something, or I’ll get angry.”

In fact, the werewolf moved towards the dining table and began to eat his meal in silence. Occasionally, his gaze drifted towards the window, brushing over Stiles before returning to his food. It was clear he was enjoying it, yet they exchanged no words.

Being responsible for a group of teenagers with supernatural powers weighed heavily on Derek's shoulders. His mate was well aware of that. Stiles did his utmost to support him, but sometimes Derek's stubbornness was simply unyielding. He probably would have beaten Jackson to a pulp without human intervention and a voice of reason. He had defied his Alpha’s orders, and that breach was practically the ultimate betrayal of trust within the pack.

“Are you angry with me?” Stiles broke the uncomfortable silence, aiming for a specific goal. There was a good chance he could draw Derek out of his shell. “Because I didn’t do anything.”

“How did you come to that conclusion?” The infamous Hale glare, where his brows nearly met his eyes, instantly dissipated. “What could you have done? Calling me was probably the most you could manage.”

“Still. I’m holding you back from doing something about Luke.” Stiles lowered his gaze slightly, staring at the polished mahogany table. “You’re angry, and that’s why you’re not talking to me.”

A gentle pressure on his wrist made him look up. Derek’s green eyes now reflected not suppressed anger or dissatisfaction, but concern, guilt, and affection. Before Stiles could react, his mate leaned in and kissed him softly. He was lifted effortlessly and carried to the couch, where they settled in comfortably.

Stiles found himself nestled against Derek’s chest, his pale fingers slipping under the grey Henley to stroke the bare skin of his abdomen. His mate had closed his eyes and wrapped an arm around him. Thankfully, they had already finished eating, as the hobby chef could not stand food waste, but he probably would have let it slide today. It must have really gotten to his Sourwolf if he was voluntarily seeking comfort.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Stiles whispered to him. “Well, maybe a little, but this whole pent-up aggression thing is a werewolf thing, and I honestly think you all need a few thousand hours of therapy.”

“Yeah, I should have confronted Luke right away,” Derek replied without opening his eyes. “He deliberately provoked Jackson, don’t you think?”

Stiles chewed on his lower lip. That thought had crossed his mind as well. It all seemed too routine, almost planned. Of course, it could just be simple mating behaviour, and the psychological profile he had created for Luke would certainly suggest that losing control over something trivial was within the realm of possibility. Yet, there were still doubts. Up to a certain point, Grandpa Argent’s new favourite grandson was undoubtedly looking for a fight with Jackson, but once Scott’s name had come up, the situation escalated.

“I’m not entirely sure,” he admitted after a moment. “Partly, yes, but then again, not really. Besides, Lydia had him surprisingly well under control.” Which was probably because Jackson and Luke didn’t take much from each other in terms of their behaviour.

“Then Lydia should keep him in check from now on if Scott can’t,” Derek huffed, clearly frustrated. “I won’t tolerate this for long. Soulmate or not, it’s about my pack, and Jackson is a part of it too. I have a responsibility to the community and to myself, because I am the Alpha.”

“Scott is just head over heels in love. You know what that’s like, right? I’ll have a word with Scott tomorrow and drill it into him that this can’t happen again. If Lydia seems to have such a good connection with Luke, then Scott should be able to rein him in effortlessly.” Stiles realized he was simultaneously defending Scott and blaming him at the same time. It sounded wrong even to his own ears.

“I don’t care how you handle it, but he won’t get off scot-free a second time. It’s bad enough that we have to be on high alert because Gerard is back in town, and on top of that, he’s controlling some new monster, worse than the Kanima. Boyd and Erica are recovering at a painfully slow pace. We’ll be lucky if we can actually talk to them on Wednesday, and I’m not just talking about the physical wounds that thing inflicted on them.”

This situation weighed heavily on Derek, Stiles knew that. Boyd and Erica were traumatized to a concerning degree. Erica still had panic attacks whenever the topic came up, and Boyd was even quieter than usual. Their psyche had been completely thrown off balance. Overall, the situation was unbearable, especially since there was a palpable tension in the air whenever they all met. Ethan and Aiden weren’t the best advisors either, as they preferred a quick and direct solution like Derek did. Jackson could be excluded from the discussion altogether; his approach was hardly helpful. That left Stiles to convince an entire pack not to make his best friend unhappy. Moreover, any direct intervention on their part would inevitably lead to another war with the Argents. They didn’t even know if Gerard had other hunters up his sleeve, although it hardly seemed necessary for him to resort to that.

As soon as Boyd and Erica were back on their feet, Stiles hoped to make some progress on that front. With such vague descriptions, research was nearly pointless. Of course, he’d already tried and found a few things, but they seemed too far-fetched. Additionally, he wanted to touch base with Deaton to explore any potential alternatives. All the chaos had also put his “soulmate project” on hold. Today, he hadn’t been able to focus on Luke’s birth name at all. He would tackle that tomorrow, assuming Derek was still willing to help him.

That very Derek had now dozed off. His chest rose and fell steadily, and he looked like an angel lying there. A bearded and incredibly well-built angel, but he hadn’t seen him this peaceful and calm in a long time. Stiles felt a twinge of disappointment; he had hoped to pull out all the stops in Derek’s calming mechanism, but waking him now would feel like sacrilege. Instead, he made himself comfortable against his mate and soon fell asleep as well. Tomorrow would bring a different world; he knew that. At least for now, he didn’t have to keep an eye on anyone, because Derek was a deep sleeper: he couldn’t get into any trouble while he was out.

Chapter Text

Finding Luke's apartment had been far less difficult than expected. In fact, it was quite easy. Lydia had simply sent Aiden ahead to scout out where the new Argent family member had settled down. After all, his sports car was flashy enough, and since there were only a few neighbourhoods in Beacon Hills that would meet the extravagant demands of a spoiled boy with seemingly money to burn, she had managed to find out the address just yesterday. Now she was parked next to the black Mercedes in the underground garage, waiting.

Why was she getting involved? Because no one else could. Stiles had to calm Derek down, Allison didn’t want to, and Scott… well, Scott was just Scott. He was probably sitting in his room, torn between whether to forgive his friend or not. Since Lydia was a good friend to the Alpha and hoped to gain something from a friendship with Luke, she had decided to de-escalate the situation. Someone had to do it, after all.

Her gut feeling told her that behind the façade of the rich, snobbish boy, who seemed to embody the perfect prince for his princess according to a medieval worldview, there was much more than any of them suspected, and it wasn’t just because of his family ties. For now, it would suffice if she helped the lovebirds with their first reconciliation. Just as she thought that, someone activated the central locking of the Mercedes and approached the car. This someone paused and then came over to her.

“What are you doing here?” Luke wanted to know, raising his right eyebrow. “How do you even know where I live?”

“With that car, it’s hardly a challenge,” came the slightly mocking reply. “Get in, we’re carpooling today.”

“Do I look like I want to roll up in a Toyota?” he retorted, equally teasing. “How much did that thing cost? As much as the two doors of mine?”

Lydia enjoyed this brief exchange. Luke was quick-witted and not so rude that he wouldn’t engage in the banter. Aiden was far too tame for her taste, and while she did want a friend who would be devoted to her, a bit of variety was nice.

“Enough to get you to school. Besides, it’s not about the exterior, but the interior, right? Or why else would you choose someone like Scott, hmm?”

The Brit’s lips turned inward, and for a moment he looked like he might get angry, then he shook his head and placed his hand on the partially rolled-down window. “You’re damn cheeky, you know that?”

“Only where it’s appropriate, and now get in, I don’t want to be late.” A smile played on her lips as Luke actually locked his car again and settled into the passenger seat. He fastened his seatbelt and shoved the key into the breast pocket of his college jacket. Without exchanging another word, they left the underground garage and navigated through the city traffic.

He seemed nervous. Lydia was used to that, as she was usually the reason behind it, and most of the boys in her year would have killed to swap places with him. But she knew full well that she wasn’t the cause of this particular nervousness.

“What did you do to apologise to Scott?” she asked him as they sat in traffic, barely moving.

“I expedited the repair of his bike, paid for it, and bought the best parts you can get on the open market in a short time.” He didn’t even bat an eyelid or look surprised. They actually understood each other surprisingly well. He probably wouldn’t have let her down like Jackson did back then.

“Boys,” Lydia shook her head. “That doesn’t solve any problems.”

“If I had bought you a designer dress worth a few thousand dollars after an argument, you would undoubtedly have been ready to forgive me, right?” A grin crept onto the Brit’s face. “Don’t deny it, you have an eye for aesthetics and fashion, I know that.”

“Of course, but it wouldn’t have solved our problem.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and sighed softly. “You’ve always solved your problems this way, haven’t you?”

“I’ve never really had problems of this kind before.” He rubbed his neck awkwardly. “Although it didn’t work out last time either, and the amount was considerably higher.”

“Last time?” Now Lydia’s curiosity was piqued. “So you’ve had a boyfriend before?”

“Not really.” Luke began fiddling with his fingertips. “It’s complicated.”

“Everything to do with you is complicated, Luke. That’s just how it is.” She paused briefly and then continued, “So that means there actually was someone?”

The Brit ran his right hand over his face and closed his eyes. It seemed as if he were wrestling with himself, teetering on the edge of a red line but unable to cross it. He moved his head left and right, only to then tilt it back and let out a sigh. After a moment of shaking his head, he looked forward again, biting his lower lip.

“Of course there was someone. Someone who was completely different from Scott,” he began, pausing to glance at her.

“Different in what way?” she prompted when no further explanation followed.

“It just repeats itself, although I didn’t get very far back then. Adriel was…” Another moment of silence followed. “Adriel wasn’t gentle and kind-hearted, he wasn’t romantic or loving like Scott. Tall, much taller than him, broader, and he didn’t let anyone dictate to him. More of a man than I’ll ever be. He was simply the epitome of what I wanted in a partner.”

“That doesn’t sound like the right partner for you at all,” Lydia started, but was immediately interrupted.

“He would have been. Adriel was perfect. The born warrior. A rock in the storm. Hakim, my dog, loved him, and so did I. I would have done anything for that damned soul mark to have appeared on my skin with his initials, because then he wouldn’t have had any reason to push me away, to reject me.” Bitterness tinged the voice of the dark-blond boy. “That’s something you can’t understand, Lydia, because you’ve never been desperately in love like that. I would have sold my soul to be Adriel’s mate. He embodied everything I’ve always wanted to be: strong, merciless, and emotionally cold, because that would have meant I could be weak, pliable, and sensitive at the same time.”

“You’re clearly reading too many of those teen romances,” the strawberry-blonde girl shook her head. “Or you’re idealising this guy far too much. Besides, if he’s emotionally cold, how would that have worked in your opinion?”

“By me correcting it. He should have shed that emotional coldness, at least somewhat, just towards me. I would have brought in the best psychiatrists in Britain to give him back a bit of empathy, towards me. Then it would have been possible for the first time in my life to let go of the reins and hide behind someone.” His voice trembled slightly at the last sentence. “But it didn’t work. He didn’t want to, no matter what I did. I tried to buy him what he wanted, fundamentally change myself, but it all remained unsuccessful. It seems like that’s happening again now: I’m destroying my relationship with Scott because of people like Jackson.” His features hardened. “I’ll make him pay for that.”

“Sounds rather sentimental, Luke, but that’s not how a relationship works. Besides, money hardly solves problems. Scott doesn’t have any of those traits you admire in your former crush, and yet you’re still smitten with him. What’s with the change of heart?”

Lydia observed from the corner of her eye as Luke shoved his hands into his pockets and shifted uneasily in the passenger seat. He was probably just realising what he had revealed about himself, how much he had laid bare his vulnerable side, and to what extent he could continue doing so.

“Because it’s completely different with Scott. He’s strong, but he’s also loving and tender. Holding hands with him is more exhilarating and beautiful than getting to voice a character in the new Dragonball film or being signed as a striker for Manchester United. With Scott, it feels like the sun is warming your bare skin. That tingling sensation is indescribable. Every single touch is like fireworks igniting anew each time.” Luke sighed softly, dropping his head. “You know, Lydia, I just have this problem where I assume I’m going to mess it up again. A part of me believes I don’t deserve Scott at all. Actually, the majority of me does. Everything is so much easier with him, yet at the same time, it’s so much more complicated. I’ve thought about your words – it’s just so hard for me to submit.”

Lydia pursed her lips slightly as she contemplated her passenger’s words. She had naturally perceived him as a vulnerable boy, but to think it could be this bad… Especially, what was she supposed to advise him now? Her original plan had been to defuse the argument over the “parking space” by taking away Luke’s opportunity to claim it.

“You should talk to him,” she suggested after a while. “Talk to him and explain yourself.”

“What am I supposed to explain to Scott? That Jackson is a jerk who deserves to be put in his place? You know he didn’t agree with that and you also think the bike repair didn’t change anything.” Her passenger gnawed on his bottom lip. “What would you even say to him?”

Well, she would tell Scott to be glad he was with her and to get his act together, but that option was clearly off the table. They turned into the parking lot of Beacon Hills High, and Lydia switched off the engine.

“Just tell him that you love him and that he should forgive you.” It was, of course, the textbook answer and wouldn’t usually make much of an impression, but in Luke’s case, it might be enough. He was so in love and almost obsessed with Scott that those words were bound to be true.

“Listen to my heart?” he asked a bit helplessly.

“Give it a try,” she agreed. “You’re not capable of lying right now, and Scott would see right through a lie anyway. He has a knack for that.” With that, Lydia got out of the car and waited briefly for the Brit, who quickly appeared at her side, and together they made their way to the school building.

Chapter Text

Scott had spent the entire night racking his brain over how he wanted to face Luke the next day. On one hand, he was still disappointed in his friend; on the other, he felt a sense of guilt himself. He should have handled the situation differently and not let himself be brushed off. His mind told him he was on the morally right side, but his heart…

Uncertain, he dismounted from his bike, which had already attracted several glances, as the old rust bucket he had previously owned was no comparison to the vehicle he now possessed. Of course, Scott didn’t care about materialism – on the contrary, it was completely foreign to him – but Luke had evidently made an effort to apologise, albeit in the only way he was psychologically capable of: with money.

Stiles must have overslept, as there was no sign of his best friend, and neither Allison nor Isaac were anywhere to be seen. Strangely, Luke’s Mercedes was also missing from the hard-won parking space. Worry began to spread through the alpha: what if something terrible had happened? Had Luke perhaps done something foolish out of fear and grief? Hastily, he pulled out his phone and checked his messages – Luke hadn’t texted him, but Stiles had, albeit in a sleepy state.

With a sinking feeling, he slipped his phone back into his pocket and made his way to the school building, his helmet dangling from his backpack. The werewolf’s senses had sharpened, especially his hearing, in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Brit’s voice somewhere. Disappointment washed over him immediately, as the buzzing students made it impossible to filter out Luke’s voice quickly.

On his way to his locker, he kept an eye out for other familiar faces, namely Aiden, Ethan, Jackson, or Lydia. No male werewolf in sight, but he almost bumped into the Banshee, who gave him a slightly reproachful look.

“Don’t you have eyes in your head, Scott?” she snapped at him.

“Sorry,” mumbled the alpha. “My head’s elsewhere.”

“Not just yours,” Lydia replied, nodding towards the classroom opposite them. “Someone’s already waiting for you, and I’d suggest you not keep them waiting too long, because I need someone for Biology.” With that, she elegantly walked away, leaving a slightly confused Scott behind.

His heartbeat quickened as he reached for the doorknob. There was another heartbeat, familiar and exactly what he had been searching for: Luke was sitting on the teacher's desk, gazing out of the window. He had clearly noticed Scott but avoided his gaze. His fingers were gripping the edges of the desk, and his grip tightened as Scott closed the door behind him.

“Hey,” the werewolf cleared his throat, hesitating slightly in place. He couldn't fully see Luke's expression and wasn't quite sure what he had expected. Would they fall into each other's arms? Would his friend apologise to him? Would he apologise to him?

“Hello, Scott,” the dark blonde replied, exhaling audibly.

“May I sit down?” Scott ventured a tentative approach.

“Do you even want to?”

“I… of course?” The alpha was slightly taken aback by the question, and it pierced him.

“But I don’t want you to sit with me.”

Luke's voice had been calm, yet his heart was racing so fast that Scott feared his friend might topple forward at any moment. This time, the Brit was able to control the trembling of his fingers. A normal person might not have noticed the occasional, barely perceptible twitch, but a werewolf certainly would.

“Why not?” Scott pressed for an answer.

“Because I don’t deserve it,” his companion stated bluntly. “Not your closeness, not your love, and certainly not you.” Slowly, Luke tore his gaze away from something outside and looked over at Scott. “I’ve disappointed you, and I regret it.” Scott was about to respond but was halted by a slight shake of Luke's head. “I regret hurting you, disappointing you. What I don’t regret is showing that jerk Jackson his place. What he did was unforgivable.”

“You mean, that he took your parking spot?” The alpha tried to remain calm. This was not how he had envisioned the conversation, nor had he anticipated Luke's lack of insight.

“No. That was a side issue.” His counterpart slid off the teacher's desk and rolled his shoulders, looking him firmly in the eye. “Jackson made our situation public, aired it out, and insulted you. He insulted you, my friend, the one I love so much that I barely slept last night because I didn’t know if I had done you a favour with the repairs or not. I was on the verge of calling you multiple times, typing out long messages only to delete them again. He had no right to do that. It should have been your decision to say something, not his.” Luke's right hand wandered to his neck, scratching it awkwardly. “Scott, if you don’t want anything to do with me anymore, then…”

“Stop,” the alpha interrupted. “Luke, that’s a lot all at once, and I still want to be in your life.” Relief washed over his friend’s features. “But you overreacted, you know that, right?”

“I didn’t overreact. An overreaction would have been to shoot him on the spot.”

“That wasn’t a joke,” Scott sighed quietly.

“Neither was mine.”

Before the werewolf could say anything, his friend had stepped closer, taking his hands and intertwining their fingers. A warm tingling sensation radiated from Luke’s fingertips where they touched Scott’s skin.

“I want to make it right, at least for hurting you. I’d like to tie that in with an invitation—or rather, the question of whether you’d accompany me to the Halloween dance. I’ll take care of your costume, of course.” He leaned his forehead against Scott’s, resting it against the alpha’s. His voice was barely a whisper, yet Scott could understand him perfectly. “Afterwards, we can hit the town, go out to eat, whatever you want. Just tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness, and I’ll do it. Anything you want, just please, don’t look at me like you did yesterday.”

Slightly taken aback, Scott’s eyebrows shot up. He had to concentrate to form a clear thought because Luke’s touch and proximity made it difficult to focus on the here and now. For a brief moment, he even lost sight of why he had been disappointed in his friend at all.

“Money doesn’t solve all problems, Luke,” the alpha reminded him, trying to adopt a slightly reproachful tone, which he managed more poorly than well.

“I know, but I have plenty of it, and I’m happy to share it with you.” Luke’s lips met Scott’s, and at that moment, the werewolf found it nearly impossible to concentrate. The taste of blueberries, Luke’s scent—his laundry detergent—and the burning sensation the kiss ignited made him forget everything. Forget why he had spent a sleepless night, forget why he was angry with his friend, forget why guilt was plaguing him…

“Scott, I…” Luke’s voice was barely a whisper, and he sounded desperate. His hands had moved to Scott’s cheeks, holding them firmly. “Please forgive me. I know I don’t deserve you, and…”

Now it was Scott who silenced Luke with a kiss. His right hand instinctively found its way to the back of Luke's neck, holding him steady, while his left arm draped across his back, pulling him closer. No, he didn’t want Luke to feel guilty, to be sad, or to worry so much about him. The thought of that hurt him deeply. This kiss tasted of apology, regret, and love. His heart raced, and he only pulled away from Luke once he felt his friend had noticeably calmed down.

“Shh, don’t ever say something like that again, alright? You deserve me, and you know it. We’ve only known each other for a short time, yet we love each other. I don’t want you to think like that. Arguments are a part of any relationship; it’s normal.” He gave Luke a loving glance and a shy smile, which was returned, revealing his braces as he lightened up.

“I still don’t know what I did to deserve you. For 17 years, I waited, hoped, and dreamed, and then you show up and make everything so much easier.” Luke brushed his nose against Scott’s. “And at the same time, so much more complicated.”

“Complicated?”

“That’s hard to explain. Love can’t and shouldn’t be easy, because it’s one of the few feelings that you have to earn and work for. It probably has to do with the fact that it requires trust, and trust isn’t easily gained.” Luke’s hands settled on Scott’s chest. “And you already have my trust, just as you’ve captured my heart in a whirlwind.” The corners of his mouth turned up slightly. “You still haven’t answered my question: will you go to the Halloween dance with me or not?”

“As long as we don’t have to go in matching costumes, because that would be pretty cheesy,” Scott joked, letting out a sigh of relief internally. A huge weight had lifted off his shoulders.

“Of course not. I’ll look for a shop that sells costumes, and then we can decide, okay? Maybe we could even go to San Francisco? What do you think? A little weekend trip.”

“But we just talked about money,” the alpha reminded his friend.

“Yes, and I’m a slow learner.” A chuckle escaped Luke’s throat. “Did you like the repairs? I know we could have done more, but in that short time, it wasn’t possible to find better parts, and believe me, I tried. You should have seen the shop owner’s eyes when I told him that money really wasn’t an issue…”

Scott was briefly tempted to scold Luke again but decided against it, simply nodding in response to his expectant gaze. “I did, and I liked the helmet too.”

“Then maybe you could give me a ride home today,” the Brit suggested, fiddling with Scott's T-shirt collar. “I don’t want to burden my ride again, and to be honest, I’d like to visit my friend’s house once more.”

“But I don’t have a second helmet with me,” Scott countered. He was firmly against riding without safety gear, especially without a helmet.

“Are you a cop or something?” Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “You’ll be careful, and it’s not that far. Will you do me this favour or not?”

“Well, if you insist,” the werewolf sighed. “But you’re wearing my helmet, alright?”

“Fine by me,” his friend grinned. “You’re worse than a mother hen.”

The school bell rang, causing them both to look up. The lesson had already started. Reluctantly, they pulled away from each other and headed outside together. They exchanged a final hand squeeze before parting ways to their respective classrooms.

“See you at lunch!” Luke called after him. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” Scott shouted back, feeling a rush of warmth as he sighed inwardly. The day had unfolded quite differently than he had planned, yet he was satisfied with the outcome. Still, it felt like just a small taste of the complications and challenges their relationship would face in the future. Yet he felt hopeful—he would fight to overcome those problems. Just like with Allison. Romeo and Juliet. Only with a happy ending.

Chapter Text

The time until lunch dragged on. Scott had long since stopped counting how many times he had stared at the clock in the classroom, wondering when that damned hour hand would finally move again. Of course, Stiles had already been there to pry him for information and bring him up to speed. By now, the werewolf was growing weary of his best friend snooping around Luke's past; something in him feared the discoveries and answers that could result from it.

Today was a day when Luke and he wouldn’t have a single class together. The only thing that truly comforted him was the fact that he could hear his friend's heartbeat and occasionally catch his voice, combined with Lydia's. Still, the minutes dragged painfully slowly, and in his mind's eye, the image of an hourglass appeared, its grains of sand trickling down at a snail's pace.

When lunch finally arrived, his thoughts were already with Luke, and he waited, visibly impatient, for him to show up. Allison and Isaac had snagged their own table with the twins, leaving only Stiles and him behind. There was no sign of Jackson; he must not have come to school today. He was probably still shaken after Derek had taken him down in a spectacular fashion.

“How are Boyd and Erica doing?” Scott asked, sipping his orange juice from a Tetra Pak through a straw.

“They're on the road to recovery. But it will still take a while before they're really back on their feet. Deaton's prognosis was probably a bit too optimistic. If we're lucky, we can start interviewing them about the demon next week.” Stiles grimaced at the wedges, which would have required a hammer and chisel to be edible.

Right, the demon. Scott had simply pushed that thought aside. Not that he was trying to avoid problems; he just had enough on his plate as it was. Especially since the monster hadn’t shown itself again. He was actually hoping it was a one-off – a monster under Gerard's command could only mean trouble. To be honest, he wasn’t particularly keen on a direct confrontation with the thing either.

“Derek is really worried about this thing. He’s more moody than usual,” his best friend explained while poking at the overcooked meat with disgust. “Honestly, I’m starting to think about bringing my own lunch. No one can live on this slop. I’d love to know what the cook does with the ingredients. It’s food abuse at its highest level.”

“That’s always been the case, hasn’t it? Do you remember the chicken legs you ate back when we started my classes?” Scott glanced over at Stiles, who was grinning in his usual crooked way. The grin widened, and he nodded behind Scott. This prompted the werewolf to turn around, and a smile crept onto his face.

Luke was coming towards their table, accompanied by Lydia. For a brief moment, a shadow crossed his face as his gaze fell on Stiles, before he sat down across from Scott without being asked. Lydia followed suit.

“Have you both also unsuccessfully tried today’s lunch menu?” the strawberry blonde asked, wrinkling her nose. Her tray was empty except for an empty plate and a bottle of mineral water. The same went for Luke.

“Awful,” Stiles confirmed. “Hey, Richboy – what delicious food did you bring us today?”

The so-called Richboy paused in his task of unpacking several containers adorned with Batman, Red Arrow, Son Goku, and Vegeta, as well as two thermoses featuring Iron Man and Spider-Man. For a brief moment, he stared at Stiles, completely expressionless, before the corners of his mouth twitched in amusement. “Us? You were never part of the equation.” He continued unpacking.

“Of course us.” Stiles provocatively draped an arm around Scott, who inwardly sighed and felt once again wedged between the chairs. “We’re a package deal. Scott and I are like brothers. You can only have us together.”

“I could just have a hitman take you out, and then I’d have Scott all to myself,” came the dry response.

“Me and my sunny disposition? You’d never have the heart to do that,” the sheriff's son shot back provocatively.

“I’m heartless and cold.” The fact that Luke’s voice left no room for doubt in this statement, along with his demeanor, unsettled Scott. “And I’m known for clearing away problems.” He looked up and began handing out three long boxes, one of which the werewolf already knew very well. Scott’s was wider and larger.

“I hope you’re not mad at me for opting for something simple today.” His friend’s words sounded almost like an apology. “Fried rice with vegetables and chicken. Jonathan said you’d definitely like it.” His gaze fell on Lydia. “And hopefully you as well.”

"That's the butler you told me about, isn't it?" Her eyes wandered to the thermal boxes and then landed on the thermoses. "And what do you have there?"

"Earl Grey with lemon and freshly squeezed orange juice. For dessert, Jonathan made an apple crumble today."

"Apple crumble?" Stiles's eyes lit up. "I love that!" He reached for one of the thermal boxes, only for his fingers to come into contact with Luke's chopsticks. Hissing softly, he pulled his hand back and shot a venomous glare at the Brit.

"Ask Scott if you can have some." Without sparing him another glance, Luke began serving Lydia rice from the Batman box onto her plate. The dish smelled wonderful, especially considering the food that Stiles and Scott had in front of them. Inside his box were two intricately designed silver spoons. The werewolf sighed softly, torn. The bickering between his boyfriend and his best friend was getting on his nerves, but he didn't really want to take sides. Arguing with Luke again would be wrong, and Stiles could certainly hold his own. After all, biting humor and sarcasm were his two strongest weapons.

"So, should I ask Scott for your opinion, huh?" Stiles licked his fingertips.

"I'd like to eat in peace now," Lydia interjected, causing her seatmate to close his mouth again, undoubtedly holding back a biting retort. Instead, he held out the Red Arrow box to Scott.

"Go on – I don't want you to have to eat this junk." With that, Scott's plate was pushed aside, and the box was thrust into his hands.

After a moment's hesitation, the werewolf accepted and placed the container between himself and Stiles. Luke's expression was hard to read, but he refrained from making any further comments and began to dig into his own food.

"This is delicious," Stiles mumbled with his mouth full. "Your butler is a real natural talent, Richboy."

The Brit remained silent, focusing instead on Lydia and Scott. Well, that was at least better than having his boyfriend and best friend openly at each other's throats. The mood of the group noticeably improved with every bite, and as the scent of the still-warm apple crumble wafted into their noses, it even seemed that Luke might be able to exchange a few words with Stiles that weren't laced with mockery and irony.

"You two seem to be getting along after all," Lydia remarked, taking a sip from the thermos lid filled with orange juice.

"Occasionally," Luke replied tersely. "By the way, you're ruining the lid with your lipstick."

"Ruining? Something as precious as my lips has probably never touched that thing," she shot back immediately, followed by laughter that Scott and Stiles joined in on.

Just before lunch break was over, Luke packed his things back into his backpack, which seemed to have an endless capacity, as the werewolf noticed. Then they grabbed their trays to return them and prepared to part ways for the rest of the hours: Luke and Lydia, him and Stiles.

"Are you going to wait for me, Scott?" His friend took his hand and squeezed it gently. "Or do you want to be alone? I can ask Lydia if she…"

"God, get a room," Stiles huffed in annoyance. "This is worse than when Derek and I first started."

Suddenly, Luke's gentle expression vanished, and his demeanor hardened. His head turned slowly to the left, then to the right, fixing his gaze on the sheriff's son as he released Scott's hand.

"Sure. Just wait outside if I'm not there yet," the Alpha interjected quickly, stepping between his boyfriend and Stiles. "See you later!" With that, he grabbed Stiles by the arm and pulled him along behind him.

Once they were out of earshot, and Scott didn't dare to turn around, he stopped and huffed in frustration. "Stiles, please don't do that in the future, okay?"

"What?" The innocent look on his best friend's face was all too familiar, and Scott knew he was well aware of his guilt.

"You see how ambivalent he is, right? How shy and vulnerable he can be?"

"Wow, your vocabulary training really paid off, huh?"

"I'm serious, Stiles." Scott's demanding gaze finally made Stiles drop his playful demeanor. He shrugged his shoulders and shook his head.

"Your boyfriend has some serious issues, Scott, and you know that. No offense to you; I believe you two have a future together, but he really needs to get used to my presence. We really do come as a package deal, and I can't stand this obsessive jealousy act."

"I think it's less jealousy than…" He struggled to find the right words. Was it really fear of loss that drove Luke to this strange behavior? Could there be something else at play? His head throbbed at the thought of the Herculean task ahead of him: somehow making his best friend and his boyfriend compatible.

"He's a bit off, yeah." With that, Stiles threw an arm around Scott's shoulder, grinning away the Alpha's bitter look. "We'll figure it out, especially with the recipes he needs to get from the butler."

"You’re impossible, you know that?"

"Yes, and that’s exactly why you love me, Bro. Otherwise, we wouldn't make such a good team."

Scott joined in on the grin, and together they headed towards the classroom. Somehow, it would all work out. It just had to work with the two of them.

Chapter Text

In fact, Luke was waiting for him by his bike. His friend ran his finger over the seat and wore a thoughtful expression. Somehow, he seemed dissatisfied. Several times, his gaze lingered on the freshly painted spot just below the seat, and his eyes narrowed slightly. With his left hand hooked on the strap of his backpack, he seemed preoccupied with something.

“Hey,” Scott greeted him, and Luke looked up abruptly. His features softened once again.

“Hey. You’re already here!”

“Of course, I didn’t want to keep you waiting too long.” Scott unbuckled the helmet from his backpack and held it out to his friend. “You’re wearing this.”

“Me? It’s yours.” Confusion was evident in Luke’s voice. “I don’t need a helmet.” Something in his expression told Scott that he definitely did need one.

“Yes, it’s safer if you wear it.” The werewolf’s tone was firm, leaving no room for debate. His solid friend was just a human and would be seriously injured in the event of an accident, while his wounds would heal quickly. “No discussion,” he added sternly.

With a resigned sigh, his potential passenger pulled the helmet on. “You’re worse than my dad. I still remember how annoying he was when he bought me the car. I had to take driving lessons and all that stuff.”

“Because your dad loves you and doesn’t want anything to happen to you. Just like I do.” Scott blushed slightly before swinging onto the bike and turning the ignition key. Moments later, he felt a pair of hands wrapped around his waist, gripping surprisingly tightly onto his shirt and hoodie.

“Are you okay?” the Alpha asked, turning around.

“Sure, just go,” came the barely convincing reply. “People are staring.”

Indeed, several curious glances were directed towards them. While Scott found it uncomfortable too, he didn’t want Luke to feel uneasy and risk something happening because of it.

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. I’m just used to four wheels, not two, that’s all. I’ll be fine. Just drive already, okay?”

“You’re not going to get hurt, Luke, I promise. Just hold on tight.”

This request was met with more than willing compliance. As soon as they started moving, an upper body joined the arms, pressing firmly against his back. Luke’s heartbeat rose rapidly, and as they left the parking lot, the Alpha realised that his friend was scared.

“You really don’t need to be afraid. I’ll take care of you,” he called back to his friend. He didn’t even know why he had said that — whether intuitively or because he was worried about him too — but it seemed to ease the Brit’s tension a little, and his grip loosened slightly. The whole scenario lasted only a few seconds, until they were on the main road, then Luke transformed back into a clingy monkey, but in that brief moment, Scott couldn’t help but smile. He had done something right, and it had come from his gut feeling. It only confirmed how right Stiles was: his influence on his friend was significant, very significant, and that’s why their relationship would work.

The ride itself was uneventful. Scott made every effort not to speed, and although the journey took longer than usual and he normally drove much faster, he enjoyed every second. Having Luke so close to him, feeling him beside him, was an indescribable sensation. It reminded him of how he felt about Allison back when he had protected her from Jackson, before he had become a true Alpha. A completely different responsibility; one he had chosen for himself. It also reminded him that despite his obvious flaws and imperfections, quirks and problems, Luke was just a normal teenager.

As soon as they stopped in front of the McCall house, his friend let go of him and hastily slid off the seat. His knees trembled slightly, and he looked pale around the nose as he removed the helmet. Wordlessly, he handed the helmet to Scott and cleared his throat, his eyes cast downwards.

“Was it that bad?” The Alpha took the helmet and immediately took Luke’s hand.

“No, not at all. I just behaved like the worst person. A damsel in distress couldn't have acted any worse.” Now a faint blush adorned his cheeks, which intensified further as Scott pulled him inside the house and slammed the door shut. They took off their backpacks, jackets, and shoes before the Alpha sent him to the sofa and disappeared into the kitchen, where he searched for some snacks and quickly found what he was looking for. Armed with two bowls of chips and popcorn and a bottle of orange juice, he returned to find Luke standing in front of a picture that showed him and his mother.

The Brit stared at it, entranced, his fingers outstretched towards it. He hesitated to touch it. Longing and sadness were etched on his features. He let his shoulders slump and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“Luke?” Scott set the items down on the small table and walked over to his friend. Luke didn’t respond. It was only when Scott hugged him from behind that he jumped slightly, the corners of his mouth twitching a little before he leaned into Scott.

“You have a wonderful mum, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know. Mum is great.”

“And your dad?”

“My father moved out many years ago. It’s a long story, and to be honest, I don’t want to talk about it.” Scott had nothing in common with Rafael. He had never been able to forgive him for what had happened back then and how he had treated Melissa. That was a scar he carried with him.

Instead of pressing further, Luke shifted, still wrapped in Scott’s embrace, and they moved to the sofa. Eventually, they ended up sitting side by side in silence. The snacks remained untouched. The atmosphere wasn’t tense or awkward; it was simply a silence they both enjoyed. Their hands were intertwined, and at some point, the Brit leaned his head against Scott’s shoulder.

“May I kiss you?” his friend asked after a while.

“Are you asking that again?” the werewolf chuckled. “Getting shy again after that little trip, huh?”

“Not quite.” Luke chewed on his lower lip. “Not so… affectionate.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Is your mum around?”

“No, Mum won’t be back until tonight. Why?”

Scott raised his eyebrows as his friend’s shoulders tensed before he settled onto Scott’s lap, his hands clasped behind Scott’s neck.

“I’ll show you what I mean,” he whispered.

Before the Alpha could ask any further questions, he was kissed — but this time it was distinctly different from their previous encounters. It was more intense, wilder, and filled with desire. Luke nibbled on his lips and pressed him back against the sofa with his body weight. Those grey-green eyes gazed intensely at him, reflecting a mix of curiosity and longing.

Once Scott overcame the initial surprise, he responded to the kiss and understood what his friend meant. This time, the act lacked innocence. Luke’s fingers wandered over his back, and he broke their lips apart to start exploring Scott’s neck. The gentle bite there made the werewolf gasp. What his friend was doing felt incredibly good, and unconsciously, his own hands wandered under Luke’s shirt.

Luke visibly shivered at the touches but didn’t stop playing with his lips against Scott’s neck. For the first time, the Alpha realised he was truly touching his friend. There wasn’t a single part of his body that wasn’t firm and toned. The warm breath and soft gasps from Luke only added to the heat rising in Scott’s face — and not just there.

By now, he could feel his friend’s fingers moving down his back and then forward, as Luke shifted his upper body away, allowing them to rest on his stomach. Scott could no longer hide his arousal; his trousers felt uncomfortably tight. With every passing moment, that sensation intensified. The fact that Luke had stopped dangerously close to the waistband of his boxers didn’t help at all.

His friend had transitioned to kissing him on the lips again, more fervently and demandingly. They burned, and when Luke attempted a French kiss, the werewolf's eyes widened. Was he even ready for this? After such a short time? The question answered itself as he reciprocated the gesture with his own tongue.

Hot breath tingled on his skin, and his entire body felt like it was on fire. He could practically hear Luke’s heart pounding, and his own was racing just as fast. Scott’s fingers had instinctively wandered to Luke’s boxer waistband. Just a few more millimetres, and he would cross a boundary — one he wanted to cross. The kissing and the touches were driving him nearly mad. He hadn’t felt this excited since Allison.

Luke pulled away from him to pull his shirt over his head. He did the same for Scott, and then he pounced on him again, switching their positions and sliding underneath him. Now it was Scott who took control, setting out to explore every inch of Luke’s upper body, touching him and drawing soft moans from him with every meeting of lips and skin.

They didn’t talk, didn’t give each other any signals, yet both of them knew exactly where to touch and kiss to further excite the other. It was becoming increasingly clear that Luke was just as turned on as Scott. The Alpha briefly paused when his gaze fell on the bulge in Luke’s jeans, but he quickly looked down again. Their upper bodies rubbed against each other, and the touches grew more demanding and eager.

In the back of the Alpha’s mind, the thought of losing control lingered. What if he was on the verge of transforming again? He would get caught or, worse, hurt Luke. That worry faded into the background as his friend began to tamper with his belt. Willingly, Scott helped him, their hands brushing against each other. The usual smile or twitch of the mouth corners was absent; instead, Luke unbuttoned his jeans and impatiently pulled the fabric aside.

The werewolf wanted to do the same to his friend but didn’t get that far, as Luke grabbed the waistband of his boxers, pressed him back into the sofa, and then slid his hand underneath the fabric. Scott’s loud moan was muffled by a kiss. Luke’s fingers approached his arousal agonisingly slowly. His breath quickened, and he trembled all over. His own fingers instinctively tangled in Luke’s hair, eliciting a loud gasp from his friend’s throat.

Scott wanted to loosen his grip quickly, fearing he had hurt his friend, but that thought faded entirely as he finally felt Luke’s fingers. The world seemed to stop spinning. Everything around them stood still. There was nothing to hear except their shallow breaths. Then a familiar pulling sensation manifested in Scott’s groin, growing stronger. For the second time that day, he opened his eyes wide. He tried to hold it back, but it was too late: his lower abdomen tightened, and Luke’s fingers noticeably twitched as they made contact with something warm and sticky. The werewolf pressed himself against him with his hips.

His friend continued to kiss him undeterred, leaving his fingers where they were. Gasping, Scott sank back heavily onto the sofa, breathless. He didn’t know where to look. On one hand, he was incredibly embarrassed that he had already come; on the other, it had felt so intense that he was glad to have it behind him.

Luke pulled away from him and slowly withdrew his hand from Scott’s boxers. He bit his lower lip, and they briefly stared at each other before Luke completely slid off him. “I’ll just clean up the mess, and maybe you should go take a shower, yeah?” His tone was oddly strange.

“Um, I…” stammered the werewolf. His gaze fell on Luke’s jeans, where his arousal was still evident.

“We’ll talk about it later, yeah?” With that, his friend disappeared, leaving Scott breathless and visibly confused. He took the advice to heart and slipped into the shower, trying to gather his thoughts. His knees felt a bit weak, and that sensation intensified as he could hear Luke’s shallow breathing through the sound of the water. It was definitely his name that reached his ears, and then, after a few moments, a strangely familiar scent, although he had never noticed it before.

Barely out of the shower and with a towel wrapped around his waist, he wandered into the hallway when his friend squeezed past him. Luke’s gaze briefly slid over Scott, and he bit his lower lip again before mumbling something about needing a shower too. With that, the werewolf was more or less alone and tried to shake off that musky, intoxicating scent he associated with Luke. When the sound of the water could be heard, he decided to quickly change into something comfortable and head downstairs to wait for his friend.

Chapter Text

Luke had silently crept onto the sofa beside him, his hair tousled and still slightly damp, resting his head in Scott's lap. At first, Scott had been a bit taken aback and hesitant, but eventually, his hand had moved instinctively to his friend's forehead, beginning to stroke and caress it.

With his eyes closed, Luke enjoyed the gentle touch, leaning into the werewolf, whose fingertips tingled against his skin. This moment felt so intimate and beautiful that Scott hoped it would never end. He had wished for this all along, even if only subconsciously. Finally, he had found someone again, someone after Allison, whom he loved deeply and who loved him back. He was aware of this because something told him that it was Luke's first experience of this nature. The same was true for him, but… it was just hard to describe. It wasn’t just that he and Allison had slept together before—Luke had allowed him to touch him, to hold him. That was something special.

With this boy resting his head in his lap, and whom he was gently brushing a stray hair away from his face, Scott wanted to be together with him, for sure. Against all odds. The same fighting spirit he had felt back then was awakening within him. Derek had told him that it wouldn’t work with Allison anyway, yet they had been happy. This time, though, he wouldn’t let his Julia go, not for anyone.

“What are you thinking about?” Luke asked, looking up at him with curiosity.

“Nothing,” Scott quickly waved off.

“You're a terrible liar, Scott,” his friend giggled, shifting a bit with the back of his head, getting dangerously close to a certain spot. “I’m sorry,” he then added softly.

“What are you sorry for?” The Alpha raised an eyebrow skeptically.

“You finished way too quickly; I messed something up.” Luke made a guilty face. “It should have lasted longer, I know.”

“What are you talking about?” Scott shook his head in disbelief and then instinctively kissed him on the forehead. “That has nothing to do with it. If anything, I should be embarrassed…”

“Embarrassed?” His friend stretched up and stole another kiss. “You’re strange, Scott. I don’t understand you sometimes.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“How can someone be… be like you?” Luke was visibly searching for the right words.

„How am I then?“

„So loving and tender, so gentle and protective? I mean, you obviously care about your friends, you’re responsible, popular, and also incredibly handsome. How can someone be so… so morally upright and not come up short?“

„Who says I’m not coming up short?“ Scott stroked his friend’s forehead again and ran his fingers through his hair. „That I’m not unhappy or searching for something? That my life isn’t completely fulfilled?“

„Because I can see it in your eyes. You never seem indecisive. Whatever you do, it seems to be the right thing, and I’ve only known you for such a short time.“ Luke lifted his head slightly to shake it, only to let it fall back down again and reach for the Alpha's fingers, intertwining them with his own. „No, it’s as if I’ve known you forever.“

„Really? You feel that way?“ Scott traced the back of Luke’s hand with his thumb.

„Yes, and I know that I don’t want to lose this feeling. For the first time in a long while, I’m truly happy.“ Luke squeezed the werewolf’s hand tightly and brought it to his lips, gently kissing it. „We belong together, just like Lancelot and Guinevere. I’m convinced of that.“ He pushed himself up and kissed Scott softly and tenderly, full of love and devotion. „Whether this damned mark ever appears on my body or not, I want to be with you.“

Scott was at a loss for words. He didn't know if he should say anything, let alone what. This wasn’t an ordinary teenage romance, nor was it wishful thinking or a figment of his imagination: this moment was real, and Luke was being sincere. He could feel it. His heartbeat was steady, and a comforting warmth radiated from his body, enveloping him.

„Me too,“ was all the Alpha managed to say before kissing his friend until Luke closed his eyes and sank back into his lap. They remained like that, one gently stroking and protecting the other. Luke’s even breathing revealed that he had fallen asleep, and this fact brought a smile back to the werewolf’s lips.

He couldn’t say how much time had passed. It was only when the front door was unlocked that Scott looked up and saw his mother’s smiling face. Before Melissa could say anything, he placed a finger on her lips and pointed downward with his index finger, earning him a sideways, stern look.

„Not on the couch, Scott,“ his mother huffed half-seriously, making her son’s face turn bright red.

„Mom,“ the werewolf whispered indignantly. „That…“

Melissa had already leaned over the back of the couch, and the corners of her mouth twitched mischievously. „So he’s fallen asleep. I almost expected that.“

„What… how did you know?“

"You’re teenagers, Scott, and you’re both in love with each other. Of course, you’re going to be glued to one another. The fact that Luke is lying there suggests that he must really trust you." At Scott's questioning look, his mother continued, "Anyone from a broken family longs for love and security, for a protector. But with the way Luke has been raised, that’s synonymous with a sign of weakness. Yet, he still allows himself to be vulnerable, which means he has found that protector in you."

"Mom, how do you know all this?"

"I’m a mother," she winked at him conspiratorially. "He’s staying for dinner, I assume? How about I make blueberry pancakes?"

"That would definitely make him happy!" Scott hesitated and then grabbed his mother’s arm to stop her from leaving. "Mom, I really think we belong together." He added quietly, "More than Allison and I ever did."

Melissa paused in her actions and turned her full attention back to her son, her gaze shifting between Luke and him. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and then the corners of her mouth twitched up in a small smile.

"You love him a lot, don’t you?" It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. "But are you aware of what that means? It could be worse than with Allison. Luke has grown up without a stable family, as he has told you and as you suspect. He’s insecure and will try to hide that. He’ll probably cling to you more than anyone else ever has, more than Stiles or Allison."

"I know that," Scott replied without a moment's hesitation. "But I love him, and he loves me too."

Melissa gently stroked his cheek. "You really believe he’s the one, don’t you?"

"I hope so," the Alpha corrected his mother. "I hope so very much. It feels just like how Stiles always described it. I want to take the risk, even if it means facing heartache and pain again."

"But I also told you once that you would fall in love more than once in your life. Do you remember that?" Melissa ruffled Scott's hair affectionately.

"Yes, but this time it feels different."

"It will always feel different, but I won’t stand in your way; we’ve already had this conversation. If you love Luke, then he’s part of the family, just like Stiles is. Admittedly, he would make a great son-in-law. I can think of worse." She pressed a kiss to his cheek before standing up. "I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything."

Luke stirred slightly in Scott’s lap, murmuring something softly before snuggling back into him, which made the werewolf’s face flush with warmth. His mother was so tactful not to make a comment and instead headed straight to the kitchen, where the delightful scent of blueberry pancakes wafted through the air shortly after. However, the Brit still didn’t move an inch. His pillow seemed incredibly comfortable and he was determined to make the most of it. Scott absentmindedly stroked Luke’s forehead again and whispered softly, "I usually have no idea what I’m doing. To be honest, I never really know."

Chapter Text

Not even the smell of blueberry pancakes could wake Luke. He had made himself quite comfortable in Scott's lap, and the werewolf couldn't bring himself to wake his friend. With his eyes closed and tousled hair, Luke looked like a little angel – hardly capable of harming anyone. Somehow, Scott still didn’t quite grasp who or what Luke Taylor really was. Yet, he loved that something very much.

Scott lingered for a while with his little companion on his lap, enjoying the sight, until his mother called that the pancakes were ready. Carefully, he shifted his legs a bit and gently shook Luke's shoulder. Luke scrunched up his face and mumbled softly, “Way too early, Jonathan.”

“Time to get up,” the werewolf murmured to his friend. “There are blueberry pancakes from my mum.”

“Your mother hasn’t been around for ages, Jonathan.” The Brit turned slightly in Scott's lap and then slowly opened his eyes. “This is certainly a sight that pleases me more than seeing Jonathan.” His mouth twitched a little before Scott received a fleeting kiss.

“Mum made us blueberry pancakes,” Scott whispered to him, lovingly nudging his nose against Luke's.

“Your mum is here?” Suddenly, Luke's dreamy and sleepy expression vanished. “Has she found out that we…?”

“Shh, it’s all right,” the Alpha reassured him. “Mum wouldn’t say anything if she noticed anything.” That was only half the truth, as Melissa suspected—if not knew—that they had done a bit more than just holding hands, but that revelation would probably send Luke into a complete panic.

“How do I look?” His friend quickly sat up and tried to fix his hair somewhat. “I don’t have any hair gel. Damn.” Hastily, he sniffed at his shirt. “I smell, don’t I? Of course, I smell…”

Scott let him indulge in his completely exaggerated panic for a few moments before grabbing his shoulder, turning him around, and kissing him on the mouth. This gesture actually made Luke pause and relax. The Alpha gently ran his fingers through his hair before pulling away and looking deeply into his eyes: “You look great just the way you are. Of course. Now calm down, babe, or Mum will have you admitted to hospital, yeah?”

Luke's eyes grew wider and wider. He scooted a bit closer to Scott and then whispered softly, “You just called me babe. Did you notice that?”

In fact, it had happened more out of pure intuition. Somehow, the werewolf liked that nickname more than something like… darling or the like. With a slight nod, he confirmed his friend's question and was rewarded with a quick kiss on the cheek before they were interrupted.

“Boys, pancakes are only good if you eat them warm,” she said, giving them both a disapproving smile. Luke quickly pulled back, clearing his throat and mumbling something about “a lovely good evening.” With that, they stood up and made their way to a table that was already set. It held a large plate with at least twenty blueberry pancakes, chocolate sauce, maple syrup, and honey, along with glasses, plates, and cutlery for three.

Luke had followed Scott's lead, hastily fixing his hair one last time before sitting down himself. “But that wasn’t necessary, Mi… Melissa. Jonathan would have certainly made me something at home.”

“Oh? Has he mastered blueberry pancakes as well as I have?” Melissa asked, amusement in her voice. “Help yourselves.”

“Of course not!” Luke replied indignantly. “These are the best blueberry pancakes in the world!”

Scott's mother laughed brightly and gestured for them to dig in, which they did without hesitation. The lion’s share went to the werewolf, while Luke managed to eat at least seven himself, drenching them in maple syrup. Two pancakes were left for Melissa, who opted to simply watch them eat. During this feeding frenzy, Scott and Luke had placed their feet on top of each other, and this gesture somehow managed to provide Luke with a sense of normalcy and ease. He chatted with Scott’s mom about school, the current Formula 1 season, the maple syrup he had at home, his running route through the city, the new Dragon Ball movie that was coming out soon, and his dog. He was practically glowing.

“Hakim is the best friend you could wish for. He looks out for me, protects me, sleeps with me, much to the dismay of the staff, trains and plays with me. In winter, he warms my feet while I sleep, and in summer, we go swimming together to cool off.” Luke speared his last piece of pancake with his fork and looked earnestly at Melissa. “He would like you, for sure.”

“That’s quite a compliment.” His mom shot him a questioning glance that he couldn’t quite interpret. When the desired reaction didn’t follow, she turned her attention back to Luke. “And why isn’t he with you? You sound inseparable.”

The smile vanished instantly. Slowly, he set his fork down on the plate, along with his knife, and sighed softly. “Grandpa doesn’t like dogs. There was something about a rabid dog many years ago…”

Scott knew that story. He still remembered his first encounter with Allison’s dad and Luke’s mom, during which this tale had been shared. Internally, the werewolf shuddered at the thought.

“And if I’m being honest: Hakim doesn’t particularly like him either. Usually, he just gives him a disdainful look and then tries to pull me away by my sleeve. He’s probably jealous or something.” That didn’t sound very convincing, and Luke didn’t look it either.

"That's hard for me to imagine, considering you said Hakim would be just as fond of anyone who wants good for you as you are," Melissa interjected, and Scott understood what she was up to.

"Dogs certainly have the instinct to protect their owners. This sounds like one of those cases. Hakim seems to sense danger and wants to get you out of harm's way," the Alpha agreed with his mother.

"From whom? Grandpa?" Luke looked slightly incredulous as he glanced between the two McCalls. "You don’t need to protect me from Grandpa. He loves me at least as much as Hakim does, if not more. He’s the only piece of family I have left aside from my dad. I think Hakim is just jealous."

"He’s never been like that before, has he? You have that one picture of him sitting with that man, right?" Scott intentionally left out the finer details in front of his mother, as that would likely push Luke further into a corner. It was important to probe him now, especially since it was just the two of them and his mom had a bit more tact and intuition than he did.

"That doesn’t count," Luke replied quietly. "You’re completely misunderstanding this. Grandpa just has an issue with dogs, that’s all, and Hakim is probably sensing that."

Even without his abilities as a werewolf, Scott could see through this half-hearted lie. Luke himself knew it wasn’t true, and the Alpha was somewhat surprised at how much Luke was turning a blind eye to reality. Even his loyal companion could sense Gerard’s malice.

Melissa gave him a subtle shake of her head and then gracefully changed the subject to Jonathan and his meal plan for the week. This took the edge off the conversation, and Luke relaxed again.

The farewell was brief, as Scott’s mother was present, so there was only time for a quick kiss. Luke seemed to be in a hurry as well. No sooner had he stepped out the door—after politely thanking them, of course—than the werewolf sighed quietly and helped Melissa clear the dishes.

"Even his dog can tell what a jerk Gerard is, but Luke can’t…"

"You’re being too hard on Luke, Scott," his mother reprimanded him. "He hardly has any family."

"But he has his father, doesn’t he?"

"You have a father too, with whom you don't have a good relationship." His mom looked at him sternly. "He needs time, you know that yourself. If anyone can convince him of this perfectly valid point of view, it's you."

"Well, if his dog can't even do it, and he's known him a lot longer than me…" Scott countered.

"You can hardly compare yourself to a dog, sweetheart. Luke loves you in a completely different way." Melissa's expression was highly amused, and Scott hurried upstairs to his room. Despite the events, it had been a nice day in some ways. A very nice day, in fact. Except for the fact that his mother… he quickly dismissed that thought. Some things shouldn't be overthought.

Chapter Text

Stiles rubbed his tired eyes. He had been grappling with the case of Luke Taylor for over four hours now, formulating the most audacious theories. At one point, he had even compared Luke to Batman, who had switched to the League of Evil and was interested not in bats but in tigers, dogs, and wolves. Essentially, Tigerhoundwolfman. A ridiculous notion that had made him laugh, yet there was also this underlying frustration he couldn’t shake off.

Beside him was a stack of photos, his desk cluttered with newspaper clippings, and if he came across a single sheet from the Cambridge News again, he would send the publisher a scathing comment. How could anyone be so preoccupied with such trivialities? He wasn’t looking for a milkman who had rescued a cat (which, as an animal lover, he certainly found impressive) or details about the planned roadworks on the main thoroughfare; he wanted to read something about Luke Taylor.

With a soft sigh, he let his forehead rest on the tabletop and pondered. It couldn’t be that hard to find out Luke's birth name. His plan to pose as Derek's heir hunter had failed because they couldn’t produce a licence for it. Of course, they could have forged one, but Stiles wanted to avoid getting his father into even more trouble. The sheriff had enough on his plate with the murder issues plaguing the town, not to mention the occasional FBI presence breathing down his neck… No, that wasn’t an option right now.

Stiles let out a frustrated sound. How could someone be so intent on keeping their private life a secret? There wasn’t even a social media account. Nothing. It wasn’t surprising, of course, and the sheriff's son had done thorough research last time, especially since there was undoubtedly a company backing Luke and Daniel that shielded them from the public eye. Still, he had somehow hoped he would find something.

With his eyes closed, he mused over what he might have overlooked. Something. There had to be something. Was he, the Sherlock Holmes of Beacon Hills, unable to solve such a trivial problem? It stung his pride a little. Where else could he start?

This train of thought was interrupted by a pair of warm hands on his stomach, accompanied by soft lips kissing his neck. A sound escaped Stiles’ throat, this time much more pleasant and soothing. “What have I done to deserve this?” he murmured, keeping his eyes still closed.

“You're far too uptight,” Derek whispered in his ear, his warm breath brushing against Stiles' bare skin and sending shivers down his spine. “You’ll find the solution at the right time, when it’s meant to be.” With that, the werewolf’s fingers trailed down and hovered just above the waistband of Stiles' boxers, kissing his neck once more.

“Is the big bad wolf in need?” Stiles giggled, feeling a sharp pain where Derek had just kissed him. “Ouch, that’s not fair!” he whined. “No teeth were part of the agreement, right?”

“Only if you don’t get too cheeky,” the werewolf countered, letting his hands wander back up, his fingers starting to caress Stiles at chest height. “I’m not in need; I just want to distract my mate with other thoughts.”

"You excel at that with your mate. His brain has already wandered downwards," Stiles murmured, leaning against Derek's hands. They seemed to fit perfectly against his chest, warm and soothing. The only thing bothering him slightly was the tightness in his pants, but he was sure the werewolf would remedy that soon enough.

Indeed, Derek slowly withdrew his hands from Stiles, only to lift him under the arms and hoist him up. Stiles’ 68 kilograms were hardly a challenge for the Alpha. Now the younger man dared to open his eyes and saw his mate carrying him towards the bed.

"What did you do that you need to soothe me like this?" Stiles teased, as Derek set him down on the bed and immediately pulled off his black T-shirt. The sight of Derek’s Adonis-like body made Stiles weak at the knees every single time. Although he wasn’t superficial (well, maybe a little, he admitted), he was secretly glad to be bonded with a werewolf. While he envied Derek a bit for his unnatural metabolism, deep down, Stiles would have felt out of place as a walking wardrobe.

"This reminds me a bit of that time when you tried on my shirts as cousin Miguel," he grinned cheekily at Derek.

"You do know it’s not particularly conducive to libido to talk about how your mate stripped for another guy, right?" Derek replied dryly, helping Stiles out of his flannel shirt and t-shirt.

"That just shows the special effect a mate has on others." He couldn’t continue, as Derek silenced him with a kiss and pressed him back onto the bed. Instinctively, Stiles’ hands found their way to the werewolf's back and stayed there.

It was said that soulmates had a unique taste. In his case, that could be true, as nothing tasted even remotely as good as Derek's lips. Stiles had tried to capture that taste in a dish, but he had always failed miserably. Thus, those moments when he could taste him felt all the more precious, and he fully immersed himself in them.

As they kissed, Derek began to let his hands wander again, moving from Stiles’ neck and back down to his behind, then forward to the belt of his jeans. Every touch that involved bare skin felt like a small jolt of electricity. Although he clearly enjoyed the contact, he couldn’t help but make a cheeky comment, which he whispered into their prolonged kiss: "Someone seems particularly eager today."

Derek seemed to prefer silence, as he turned Stiles onto his stomach and began kissing him through his tousled hair. After a short while, Stiles felt the werewolf back against him, his muscular torso pressed against Stiles’ back, eliciting a soft gasp from him at the closeness to his mate. Stiles closed his eyes again, relishing the feeling of togetherness and intimacy.

Derek pulled back briefly, and before Stiles had a chance to open his eyes, he heard a familiar, soft click. Moments later, he felt the cool, slippery sensation against his backside. It was unnecessary to give Derek instructions; they had been intimate so many times that his mate knew exactly how to prepare him to ensure that sex was pleasurable rather than painful. Yet, the werewolf had a knack for achieving the desired effect even with just one finger, causing Stiles to bite down on his own finger to stifle any sounds. They were alone, but somehow it felt wrong to be doing this in his childhood bedroom… he didn’t want to dwell on that thought.

Once Derek was finished, he flipped Stiles onto his back and lifted him up. Stiles dared to open his eyes again. His mate held him firmly, gazing deeply into his eyes. It was this look that Stiles adored about Derek; it conveyed intimacy and broke through the stoic mask he usually wore. It was clear that Derek was just as ready, and Stiles bit back another silly comment about whether the werewolf was excited to see him or…

He couldn’t finish the thought, as Derek began to lower him slowly, entering him carefully. Instinctively, Stiles buried his face in the crook of Derek's neck, wrapping his arms around his mate's shoulders for support. He did the same with his legs, wrapping them around Derek's waist.

He didn’t have to do anything; all the physical work was taken care of by his mate. Initially tentative and cautious, Derek gradually picked up the pace, forcing Stiles to replace his gentle kisses on Derek's neck with more intense bites to keep himself from being too loud. His nails dug into Derek's back, scraping against the taut muscles while the werewolf remained silent. He didn’t need to make a sound; the rapid beating of his heart was more than enough confirmation for Stiles that Derek was enjoying this as well.

“You… really… need to…” Stiles’ words caught in his throat as Derek moved them against the wall, pressing Stiles’ back against it for some stability. This allowed Derek to free one hand, which soon wrapped around Stiles’ arousal. Stiles threw his head back, staring at the ceiling. Quick and intense—that was exactly what he always needed to clear his head, and his mate seemed to fulfill that wish, as the subsequent movements of Derek's hand were enough to make the tension in Stiles’ lower abdomen nearly unbearable. A brief grip around Derek’s wrist made him pause knowingly, and with a loud gasp, Stiles’ entire body tensed. He could feel the same tension in Derek’s back. Their climax was crowned with a passionate kiss.

Glistening with sweat and breathing heavily, Stiles pulled away from his mate's lips, giving him a cheeky grin. "You were particularly… today."

"Just be quiet, alright?" Derek replied, his usual gruffness evident as he furrowed his brow and slid out of him, carrying him into the bathroom.

"Are you going to lather me up too, big bad wolf? I mean, I'm all dirty thanks to you." Stiles wiggled his eyebrows, but Derek chose to ignore it. Instead, he turned on the water, which elicited a muffled scream from Stiles at the icy coldness that cascaded down.

"Now we’re even," the werewolf commented as he pulled Stiles back against him, enveloping him in warmth and closeness that even the cold shower water seemed to warm up. Either that, or the pipes had somehow heated up at record speed.

After a thorough shower, complete with lathering up, a final kiss, and drying each other off, Stiles snuggled into bed, clad in a dark Batman shirt, black boxers, and fluffy pajama pants. Derek usually took a bit longer, so it was no surprise that he was still busy in the bathroom. He was probably admiring his perfect body or something like that. Stiles closed his eyes and fell asleep, exhausted but relieved. Tomorrow, he would definitely find a solution to the Luke problem. He faintly believed he heard a phone ringing, but he dismissed it as part of the dreamscape he was now entering.

Chapter Text

Stiles was dreaming. He knew that. But this dream felt so real. He found himself in a warehouse. Although it was dark, he could see surprisingly well. The moon cast a sparse light through wisps of clouds and large broken windows, which was enough for his remarkably sharp eyes. A metallic scent hung in the air, setting off alarm bells in his mind.

"You stay here," he whispered in the dream to Jackson, who was standing next to him. "I’ll go look for them myself. If I’m not back in ten minutes, then…" He trailed off mid-sentence, lifted his head, and perked up his ears. Sounds were coming from the back of the building, initially faint, then increasingly distinct. Jackson's eyes glowed blue, but Stiles raised his hand. A large, distinctly masculine hand, with claws grown.

A figure stumbled out of the shadows. It lurched forward, clutching its side. After a quick assessing glance, Stiles recognised it as one of the twins. His T-shirt was completely torn, and he was bleeding from several wounds. Blood was seeping out, especially between his pressed fingers.

"That's Ethan." Jackson sounded uncertain and took a step back.

Before Stiles could react, there was a loud crash, and he looked up abruptly. With a thunderous noise, a large iron cage came crashing down towards him. He wanted to jump to the side, but it was too late. The barred cage had already enclosed him tightly. Jackson stumbled back, glancing uncertainly between Ethan, who hit the hall floor with a dull thud, and Stiles, who was trying to bend the iron bars of his prison. No matter how much he pulled and shook, nothing budged. This surprised him. But why was he surprised by this? No ordinary human could bend such a cage.

Suddenly, Jackson clutched at his throat, as if something had stung him. For a moment, Stiles thought of a mosquito, but it was the wrong season for that. Something silver glinted between Jackson’s fingers, and he blinked several times, straining to see.

"Run!" Stiles shouted at him, but his classmate didn’t move an inch. Instead, he pulled the silver object out of his throat and examined it for a moment. His movements seemed slower and more cumbersome than usual—not at all like a werewolf. "I said run!" he shouted again, but still, Jackson didn’t budge.

Footsteps reached Stiles' ears. They were quiet and barely audible. A normal person certainly wouldn’t have heard them. But was he a normal person, or not? His head jerked towards the source of the noise, which was behind the moaning Ethan on the ground. Jackson mirrored his movement, and Stiles could see from the corner of his eye that Jackson's eyes widened in shock.

At first, there were just two yellow points emerging from the shadows. They appeared as if out of nowhere. Then they moved, rhythmically up and down. These two yellow points were eyes. They belonged to a face; a face that began to take shape. No, not a face – it was a grimace staring back at them. The visage of the creature that had stopped behind Ethan had a human head shape. A black, metallic exterior covered the area where a face should have been. Horns grew from the unknown being's temples. Its mouth was open, revealing two rows of silver teeth, behind which an impenetrable darkness yawned. The canine teeth, both upper and lower, were thicker and sharper, resembling a thwarted vampire. The chin was also silver, from which two short horns protruded, but they looked strange, almost as if they had been painted on. The same applied to the cheeks. The ears had a similarly silver outline, and the nose was covered by a triangle of the same color that tapered towards the bridge. Lines extended from the sides of the triangle to the horns. The forehead was adorned with a type of silver headpiece that ran in several plate-like lines past the horns and disappeared behind them. Two broader plate-like lines traversed across the middle of the skull, extending towards the back.

The creature wore nearly all black clothing, allowing it to merge seamlessly with the shadows. The belt, made of two thicker fabric strips, was blue and seemed to hold the ensemble together at the hips. The two strips dangled eerily back and forth, even though there was no breeze. The laced leg guards were of the same color and rested just above the monster's shoes. These were also black but appeared somewhat out of place, as they were covered in golden stripes and strange symbols that Stiles couldn't decipher. Even shoelaces were present, neatly tied. He had expected something different: boots or the classic sandals worn by an eastern warrior.

A pair of grotesquely shaped arm guards covered the stranger's forearms. The underside was made of the same black fabric that covered the rest of the body, while the upper side was made of a material he couldn't identify. It looked gray and dull. The fleur-de-lis was engraved into the backs of the hands: the symbol of the Argent family!

Finally, Stiles could see a dark sword hilt protruding slightly from behind the creature's head. The sheath was likely strapped to its back. Given how it was positioned, this being had to be right-handed, as it could draw the weapon with a reach to the left rear.

"Jackson, run!" Stiles urged the now frightened werewolf beside him, who still hadn’t moved. It had suddenly become clear to him what this creature was. "Get help!"

Meanwhile, the strange warrior had begun to move again. Calm and collected, it approached Jackson, who huddled like a terrified child. He screamed loudly and fell onto his backside, shielding his face with his hands.

Stiles struggled once more to free himself, but the steel—or whatever it was—didn't budge an inch. He pushed with all his might against the bars, but nothing happened. Even attempting to lift the cage proved futile; it was far too heavy. As he desperately fought for freedom, he kept his eyes on the creature. It hadn’t blinked even once. No sign of emotion crossed its face. Nothing. The silence that hung over the warehouse was terrifying. Only Jackson’s whimpering and Ethan's occasional groans hinted that anyone else was present in the hall aside from him.

So this was the ninja Erica and Boyd had mentioned. Stiles was certain of it. Fear gripped him. This thing hadn’t moved a finger while Ethan lay severely injured behind him, and Jackson was unable to defend himself. He was trapped, forced to watch.

The ninja stopped in front of Jackson, staring at him with empty eyes. They lacked pupils, appearing devoid of emotion and cold. The werewolf awkwardly tried to scoot away. Slowly, the monster turned its face towards Stiles, and he struggled against the impulse to recoil. This visage was inhuman, resembling a spawn of hell.

"Kyoufu wo oshiete yarou." Stiles had no idea what that meant, but it couldn’t be anything good. Especially considering that the creature's lips didn’t move. Its voice cut through him, resonating deep within his bones, sounding otherworldly—distorted and alien, but not so strange that he couldn't place it somehow. It seemed as if its dark tone, which had an astonishingly soft undertone, came from everywhere and nowhere at once.

With that, the ninja turned back to Jackson. By now, Jackson had managed to create some distance between himself and the intruder. The dark warrior closed the gap in an instant. Arriving in front of Jackson, he pulled his leg back and delivered a kick. A loud crack echoed as the sole of the shoe collided with the werewolf's face. Jackson screamed again, this time in pain. His head snapped back, and another sickening crack sounded as the ninja pressed his foot down slightly more into Jackson's face.

With the weight on his injured leg shifted, the struck werewolf toppled backward, groaning in agony. He tried to lift his arm, but a lightning-fast kick stopped him. Another crack and the sound of breaking bones filled the air. Jackson's right arm lay twisted at an unnatural angle, his eyes bulging in shock.

Stiles summoned all his strength and made one last desperate attempt to lift the cage with his seemingly inexhaustible willpower. Sweat dripped into his eyes, and he could feel every muscle in his body straining. He had to help Jackson, just as he needed to help Ethan.

The ninja had now shifted his foot from Jackson's arm and was instead pressing it against his chin. Slowly but steadily, he forced Jackson's skull back while pinning the werewolf in place with his own weight. All Jackson could manage was a desperate whimper. His face was smeared with blood, and even though the healing process must have already begun, it seemed he was still feeling the pain inflicted upon him.

Stiles summoned his last reserves of strength and focused. Gritting his teeth, he pushed against his metallic prison. It had to work. Groaning and panting, he lifted the cage inch by inch. The sharp edges of the iron bars sliced into his flesh, but he tried to block out the pain. His friends needed his help. It was working! He was actually managing to raise the cage a considerable distance off the ground when the ninja turned his attention back to him.

In a fluid motion, the dark warrior sprang off both feet, briefly touching the cage bars with his soles before running up along them. Once at the top, Stiles lost sight of him, but moments later, he felt an added weight on his shoulders that made him groan. He closed his eyes and concentrated. No, he couldn’t give in. Not now.

From above, he heard footsteps and then felt a sharp pain in his neck before his strength began to fade. His energy was waning. For several moments, he fought desperately against the debilitating exhaustion before he sank to his knees. With the last bit of energy he had left, he forced his eyes open and saw the ninja standing in front of the cage, staring at him. Then everything went black around him.

Chapter Text

Scott sat next to a visibly nervous Stiles in his rickety Jeep. To be honest, he was dead tired, yet at the excited call from his best friend, he had been ready to set off with him straight away. He yawned widely, stretching to wake up his weary limbs.

“I’m absolutely certain that Derek and the others are in the warehouse where Erica and Boyd were,” Stiles repeated for what felt like the hundredth time. “And they’re in trouble. I can feel it.”

“You mean you’ve been watching the situation through Derek’s eyes?” Scott scratched his chest and shook his head, trying to shake off the last remnants of sleep. The idea of having such a close bond with his soulmate that he could even see through his eyes was a rather unsettling thought.

“No,” Stiles replied, sounding a bit impatient. “I felt with Derek, influenced his actions—at least, that’s how it felt,” he explained. “It hurt when I tried to lift the cage. The metal cut into my flesh, and the effort was palpable.”

“And you think that has something to do with your bond?” Scott felt uneasy at the thought that someone else could look into his mind, or at least partially see through his eyes. But then again, one had to wonder if one felt differently with a soulmate? That thought gave him a slight pang, as he thought of Luke…

“Definitely,” Stiles confirmed. With that, he pressed the accelerator, and they sped down the deserted, dark country road; after all, it was three in the morning.

After about fifteen minutes, they arrived at the abandoned warehouse. The corrugated iron exterior was overrun with climbing plants, and the flora was also fighting its way through the shattered windows. The outer shell had rusted in places, and large holes punctured the leaky roof. The moon, which illuminated the surroundings somewhat, was occasionally obscured by passing clouds, lending the building an additional eerie aura.

“I would suggest that we…” Stiles began, but was immediately silenced by Scott, who placed a finger to his lips.

He heard something. At first, it had only been a faint sound, but with each passing second, it became clearer. Someone groaned, then silence fell again. Just as the Alpha was about to enlighten his companion about this development, a scream of pain echoed through the night, so loud that even Stiles seemed to hear it.

“That was Jackson,” the brown-haired boy stated before they took off running.

Scott was faster and sprinted ahead. Given how Jackson had sounded, Stiles must have been telling the truth. This also meant that the Ninja was still here. Something told him he would find him, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint that feeling. There was no time for a well-crafted plan anyway. He just had to trust that he was strong enough to keep this creature occupied for a while while Stiles came up with some grand idea.

He stormed inside, his eyes glowing red, and then he stopped in his tracks at the sight before him: Ethan lay in a pool of blood on the floor, with shallow breaths and a heart that was barely beating. His entire body seemed to be one massive wound, rotting slowly away. In places, his skin was discolored, particularly at the edges of the cuts. Derek was indeed in a metal cage, but he lay motionless on the floor. However, he was breathing steadily, and his heartbeat sounded normal; Jackson, on the other hand…

The Ninja seemed to have broken every bone in Jackson's body. His limbs were horrifically twisted. He was already healing, but the affected body parts had been fixed in place, preventing them from knitting together properly. His jaw appeared crooked and distorted, just as his fingers stuck out oddly, and his right foot pointed sideways when it should have been facing upwards.

Standing over the werewolf was the Ninja, just as Stiles had described him, and he was in the process of doing the same to Jackson's left leg. Jackson's eyes were filled with pain and fear, and he was whimpering incessantly.

Scott extended his claws and roared at the foreign creature. Anger surged within him. This thing had put his friends in grave danger, and he would not let it get away with that.

The Ninja indeed paused in his actions and turned to look at him. The yellow glowing eyes held nothing human; they were cold and lifeless. In one leap, he sprang off Jackson, but not towards Scott—he jumped away from him. The foreign warrior took a step back, as if uncertain whether to flee or not.

Scott hesitated for a moment, sensing the quickening heartbeat of his opponent, but then he charged forward. He couldn't afford to give him a chance to fight back. If this thing had been able to subdue Ethan, Jackson, and Derek, then he would have his hands full trying to fend it off.

With a piercing scream, he lunged at the Ninja, raising his right hand to swipe his claws across its face. The creature jerked its head back, avoiding the attack. Scott's claw met empty air, and the Ninja continued to retreat. The Alpha attacked again, this time with his other hand, only to achieve the same result: the warrior effortlessly dodged the strike.

Scott blinked in confusion. There were few beings faster than him, but this one clearly fell into that category, as yet another swipe of his claws met nothing but air. However, the Ninja's posture shifted; he seemed almost surprised. While the Alpha could detect no emotional response from the warrior, his heartbeat was now noticeably slower, almost calm. The sound of that beating heart distracted Scott for a moment. Why did this fact fascinate him so much?

“Muda da.” The Ninja’s eyes glowed briefly at those words. Scott thought he even detected a hint of regret in the tone. He didn’t understand the language—if it even was a language—but deep down, he knew what it meant: "futile."

Scott tried to strike at the creature again, but it effortlessly dodged once more. A brief shake of the head followed, and then the Ninja reached for his belt. “Shikata arimasen ne.” Before the Alpha could react, his opponent threw something at his feet, and a second later, he was enveloped in stinging smoke that obscured his vision. Coughing and gasping, he held his arm protectively over his mouth.

Scott could still hear the heartbeat, growing weaker and weaker, until it finally stopped. Along with it, he sensed footsteps fading away, their rhythm mirroring that of the heartbeat. As the fog began to lift, the scratching in his throat ceased. He blinked a few times and, before he could truly see, already knew the Ninja had vanished.

“Scott!” he heard Stiles’ voice behind him. “Scott, I need help!”

Immediately, the Alpha turned around and rushed towards his best friend. Stiles was kneeling over Ethan, who was barely breathing now. Jackson hung limply, staring at them with wide eyes. “Is it, is it gone?” he asked anxiously, like a frightened child.

“It is,” Scott confirmed, then knelt beside Ethan to check his pulse. “We need to get him to Deaton right away.”

“I know.” Stiles had already begun to tend to Ethan with the first aid kit from his Jeep. He glanced up, his gaze shifting worriedly to Derek.

“Derek is fine,” the dark-haired boy assured him. “He’s just sleeping.”

“How do you know that?” Stiles sounded skeptical.

“Intuition,” Scott replied, carefully lifting Jackson into his arms. “I’ll get you to the car, okay?”

Jackson nodded anxiously and awkwardly wrapped his arms around Scott's neck. Fixing his bones would mean having to break them again, and that was a task better suited for his boss. Honestly, he didn’t want to be the target of Jackson’s resentment for the next few weeks.

After gently depositing him in the back seat and buckling him in for safety (Jackson still looked completely disoriented and out of sorts), Scott hurried back into the warehouse, where Stiles had managed to tend to their friend somewhat. The wounds still looked terrible, but at least he wasn’t bleeding as heavily anymore. That would buy them a little time. Just as he was about to free Derek from his prison, he paused, puzzled: the cage was dangling from the ceiling.

“How did you get that thing up there?” he asked his friend, nodding toward the cage.

“I didn’t. It just…went up,” Stiles chewed on his lower lip. “Let’s get Derek and Ethan into the car and then get out of here. We don’t want that thing showing up again.”

They hurried to get their two friends into the car, and then they set off for Dr. Deaton’s veterinary clinic. The ride was silent, as each was lost in their own thoughts. Stiles was undoubtedly worried about their friends, especially Derek, while Scott shared that concern but couldn’t shake the image of the Ninja from his mind.

"No, it… it’s alive. It breathes, and that means it can be hurt. Maybe it’s even capable of bleeding?

“Jackson was alive too when he was a Kanima.” They both glanced into the mirror, watching their classmate pressing his battered nose against the glass, trying to poke at the passing lights with his mangled fingers. “And now he’s an idiot. I mean, an even bigger idiot. One that bleeds…”

“Let’s hope Deaton can fix this.” Scott fervently prayed that the druid would be able to help them.

“We’ll find out soon enough.” Stiles parked in front of the veterinary practice and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I’ll ring him out of bed; you make sure to get Ethan inside right away. He’s the most seriously injured.”

Scott nodded, unbuckled himself as well, and focused on getting the werewolf out of the car. His friend simply could not die. By now, his heartbeat was little more than a faint flutter. They had no time to waste.

Chapter Text

Deaton had managed to bring Ethan back from the brink of death. He had also succeeded in pulling Derek back from the realm of dreams. However, Jackson would need to remain under his Alpha's care for a while longer; while his childish phase was over, he was still too disturbed to be let loose on society.

Stiles had asked Scott to stay out of the whole affair. This request pained him somewhat, as it signalled that Derek perhaps didn't fully trust him in the matter. The thought that this wish could come from his best friend was something Scott couldn't and wouldn't believe. Stiles knew how fiercely he stood up for his friends and fought for them; Derek and the others were his friends.

He was currently on his way to school on his repaired bike, lost in thought as the cool breeze flowed through his denim jacket and under his black T-shirt. Deaton had mentioned a highly effective hallucinogen that had been administered to Jackson. Because of it, he had become unable to distinguish between fiction and reality. The ninja had already been creepy for Scott, but with that stuff in his system, he seemed to have turned into some sort of flesh-and-blood nightmare for Jackson.

Something about this strange being unsettled him. It breathed, had a heart, and a pulse. A very rapid pulse, due to the exertion and effort it must have had to defend itself against several werewolves. Even Jackson, as a Kanima, hadn’t had an easy time dealing with them. He had merely been a tool; but so was the ninja. A tool of Gerard Argent.

At the thought of the old man, his fingers instinctively tightened around the grips of his bike. It had merely been a show of power, to demonstrate that he was not only back in town but also to make it clear how firmly he held the reins. A single being had, in a very short time, almost incapacitated Derek's pack. Only Derek, Aiden, Isaac, and he remained as protectors of the town. Perhaps Erica and Boyd would soon return, but that was still uncertain.

Where had he dug up this thing? Unlike a Kanima, it possessed something resembling autonomy, as it had fled upon his arrival. Scott had no doubt that he too could have only kept up with this demon by exerting all his strength, yet his opponent hadn't even attempted to fight him. Why? What had held it back? Was he that terrifying?

“Muda da.” The words slipped from his lips as easily as if they were his own. He could easily identify both the origin and the meaning: Japanese, meaning “pointless.” It would have been a pointless fight, as he wouldn’t have been able to wound this thing. For some reason, he was aware of that. His gut told him they would have been more than just evenly matched opponents.

Scott stopped at a red light, kneading his fingers slightly. Everything was far too grotesque to grasp in one go. Gerard Argent was back in town, well enough to act independently again. He had a monster under his control, perfectly suited for hunting werewolves, and a grandson who loved him dearly. A grandson whom Scott also loved dearly.

The idea of asking Luke about the ninja crossed his mind. However, that thought caused him massive stomach pains. It was also an extremely dangerous undertaking: if Luke actually knew something, he would probably be reluctant to share the truth. Then he would be caught in a moral conflict—should he warn Gerard or side with Scott? What were the odds that his friend knew anything about his grandfather's schemes?

The light turned green, and Scott continued on his way. If Luke was indeed involved in Gerard's plans, it would mean he bore some responsibility for those actions. He hadn't actively prevented them; perhaps he even condoned them. Yet he couldn't imagine his friend being that way: Luke had a good core, and even if he had shown many bad traits in the past, he didn’t seem like someone who would approve of such methods. Or was he simply unwilling to consider that possibility because he loved Luke?

No. He refused to believe that his steadfast boyfriend supported such terrible things. Luke could be many things, but certainly not a monster. Yet why did this line of thought hardly satisfy him? There was a quiet unease that prevented him from accepting that statement.

In his mind's eye, he recalled the look Luke had thrown at Jackson during their argument. That lurking, cold, indescribable something that had been etched in his features. Was it so far-fetched to suspect Luke of being a hunter as well? After all, Allison had quickly become a brilliant hunter and had been exposed to Gerard's harmful influence far less than her cousin.

His head and heart were saying two different things. What would Stiles say about this? Should he even talk to him about it? No, he had enough problems with Derek. Lydia? She would be an option, especially since Luke and she had gotten along exceptionally well so far. Then another thought crossed his mind: Allison.

Allison was a hunter, she was also an Argent, and she was Luke's cousin. Even if they hadn’t had much to do with each other in recent years, there was still something—at least from the Brit's perspective—that truly connected them both. If anyone could get close to him and find out what he really knew, it would be Allison. With Lydia, he would become suspicious, no doubt about it. Especially since Gerard would hardly find a plausible reason to keep his grandson away from Allison.

Scott felt a slight flutter in his stomach at the thought of using Allison as a spy, but he knew Luke wouldn’t share anything about that possible part of his life if he truly was a hunter. Or was he? Honestly, he didn’t know and sighed softly as he turned onto the schoolyard. That silent sigh, however, immediately transformed into a smile when he spotted the black Mercedes.

Luke seemed to have been waiting for him. He leaned against the door of his car, giving Scott a loving smile. Scott's heart warmed, and he parked next to the sports car. As soon as he dismounted from his bike, he was greeted with a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Scott,” Luke smiled at him.

“Hey… Babe.” He hesitated for a moment but then opted for the term of endearment again. His boyfriend blushed slightly but then leaned in for a kiss and intertwined their fingers.

The Alpha regarded his boyfriend with a questioning look, but Luke expertly ignored it and instead headed purposefully toward the entrance of the high school. A few people whispered around them, while others cast glances their way. Scott had expected Luke to retreat from public displays of affection now that Jackson had made their relationship public, but the opposite was true.

“What’s the matter? Never seen a couple holding hands before?” he snapped at a group of girls, probably a year younger than them, who were standing by the entrance and staring at them. They quickly huddled together, caught off guard.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Scott said quietly, feeling Luke’s grip tighten around his hand.

“I’m not nice when people stare at me like I’m Quasimodo’s twin brother.” Luke shoved his other hand into his pocket as he strode purposefully towards the lockers. “Besides, I know I’m dating the captain of the lacrosse team, and he’s certainly held in high regard.” He threw Scott a glance that was hard to interpret. “And now I belong to that guy.” He bit his lower lip for a moment before releasing their hands.

“You’re exaggerating a bit.” The Alpha shook his head slightly but couldn’t suppress a smirk. Luke’s jealousy was a bit exhausting, but also terribly sweet.

“Mh, we’ll see about that when the time comes, yeah?” The Brit nervously scratched the back of his neck. “Listen, Scott… Halloween is just around the corner, and I’ve done a bit of research on costumes and such. Would you like to go to San Francisco with me this weekend? There’s a shop with tailoring services, just in case…”

“Sure, we agreed on that.” Scott fought the urge to place a hand on Luke’s cheek. He wasn’t sure if it would embarrass him to be so affectionate in public. If they had been alone, he undoubtedly would have done it, assuring Luke that he was looking forward to going to the Halloween dance with him.

“Great.” Relief washed over Luke’s face. “I’ve got Biology with Lydia now. I’ll see you later.” He pressed a quick kiss to Scott’s cheek in farewell before raising his hand in a wave and heading off.

Scott watched him go, shaking his head with a smile on his lips. “Weirdo,” he thought to himself. His weirdo. The one he loved more than anything.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week had been relatively uneventful. Scott had decided against having a conversation with Allison, though he couldn't quite figure out why afterwards. Something deep inside him held him back from engaging too much with the topic of the ninja. In contrast, Stiles was all the more eager to uncover the identity of the creature.

In doing so, he left his best friend out of the loop, but Scott tried to skillfully ignore this fact and chalk it up to the events of the past few days. A large part of Derek's pack was incapacitated, and the Alpha himself was beside himself with anger and self-reproach. The suggestion to visit Derek had been vehemently rejected by Stiles, and Scott couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that Derek somehow held him partially responsible for the situation. After all, he was allied with the "enemy," or at least a source of the enemy. That source was currently sitting next to him, or rather, he was sitting next to her.

Luke had simply told him to pack stuff for a weekend away. Any questions about the why and how had been deftly sidestepped. Not that it was a secret they were heading to San Francisco, but theoretically, the journey could be completed in a single day. Instead, they had set off on Friday after school. Scott had informed his mother, who wished him a lovely weekend before he climbed into the black Mercedes.

“Has that insufferable PE teacher had another go at you?” Luke asked him, his left hand casually resting on the steering wheel. A construction site had caused a lengthy traffic jam, and they were moving slowly.

“Why?” Scott directed his gaze at his friend, who briefly tugged at his black T-shirt before fiddling with the air conditioning. It was a damn hot day for this time of year.

“Whether I should switch to the lacrosse team?” The Brit scratched behind his ear, narrowing his eyes slightly as he stared at the car in front of them.

“Well, he mentioned it once.” That wasn’t entirely true: the coach was obsessed with getting Luke onto the team, as he would provide an excellent financial foundation for it. It was Scott's duty, as his friend, to actively work on getting him onto the lacrosse team. Otherwise, Finstock would be forced to recruit someone else. The werewolf's objections that this would hardly be productive were conveniently ignored by the coach.

Luke made a derisive sound. “What an idiot. As if I’d care about this ball-pushing nonsense if you weren’t the captain of this pathetic team.”

“Coincidentally, this little enterprise of yours, as you call it, includes some of my closest friends,” Scott replied with a hint of sarcasm. There it was again, that arrogance emanating from his friend.

“Well, it’s not my fault that all your friends are…,” Luke bit his lip mid-sentence under Scott’s stern gaze. “I can’t get much into sports. Too raw, too brutal…” Instead of digging himself further into a hole, the Brit seemingly decided to keep quiet and pressed a kiss on Scott’s cheek, which did manage to soothe him somewhat.

“Are you going to explain why I had to pack for two days?” the werewolf quickly shifted the conversation to another topic.

“You really want to spoil the surprise, huh?” A grin spread across Luke’s lips. “What do you think?”

“That we’re staying in San Francisco for the weekend?”

“Bingo.”

“That wasn’t hard to guess.” Scott pouted playfully and crossed his arms over his chest. “But why, exactly?”

“Because we can be undisturbed here.” Luke turned his gaze back to the road and set the car in motion. “In San Francisco, no one knows us, there’s no whispering, no gawking, nothing.”

“But there isn’t any of that in Beacon Hills either?” The werewolf tilted his head slightly. “Or are you bothered that we’re one of the talking points at school? I thought it was okay for you, considering how you reacted last time?”

“It’s not that…” His counterpart seemed to be searching for the right words. “You know, Scott, you’re my first serious boyfriend, and I’ve already messed it up quite a bit. But it’s undoubtedly not just my fault; it’s also due to the fact that some less-than-bright individuals like Jackson are just existing at that school.” Before Scott could respond, Luke raised his right hand and shook his head. “Please let me finish, okay? I can at least handle it to the extent that I’m not going to sue him out of his house and make sure he never sets foot on the ground again. What I mean is: here, we’re anonymous, two teenagers, a couple in love, nothing more.”

"You do realize that anonymity might require a car that doesn’t look like it just rolled off the pages of a tuning magazine?" Scott replied, amusement evident in his voice.

"I briefly considered it," his companion admitted. "But I quickly dismissed the idea because I believe I shouldn't have to compromise on my usual standard of living. Just like you."

"My standard of living consists of my mother’s used car, a second-hand bike, and a part-time job at a veterinary clinic." Scott couldn't help but grin as he watched Luke searching for a counterargument with a hint of desperation.

"But it's my standard of living that I’m talking about," the Brit resumed after a moment of silence. "And that includes, among other things, a Mercedes."

"No one else in Beacon Hills can really imagine living like that. Not even Jackson and his wealthy parents," the werewolf replied patiently. "You can be happy without money."

"How would you know that?"

"What do you mean?" Scott tilted his head in confusion and looked over at Luke, who still had his eyes focused on the road.

"You've never had much money, have you? Neither has Stiles. Lydia and Jackson might have a bit, maybe Allison too, but that’s about it. You’ve never had the option to walk into a store and just take what you like, regardless of the cost. If you wanted an Xbox tomorrow, a new TV, or even a new car, you couldn’t just do it without hesitating."

"That’s true, but I’m also happy without those things." Scott genuinely believed that. They got by, and that was enough for him. Of course, a new car for his mother would be great, or a gaming console, but he managed well without them.

"You’ve never owned them, so you can’t judge whether they wouldn’t make you happier. Happiness may be subjective, but I’ve been able to live my dreams so far. You haven’t, nor have your friends." Luke didn’t sound arrogant; he simply stated the truth.

“Luke,” Scott sighed softly. “You really can’t compare the two. You’ve never known anything other than a life of extravagant luxury. Someone even makes your breakfast every morning, prepares your lunch, and you can close down stores whenever you feel like it…”

“Of course, you can’t compare them, because we live in entirely different worlds when it comes to that. My room at home is about the same size as your living room and part of your kitchen. My suits are tailored, my shoes are custom-made, and even this car has been adjusted to my needs.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “But that doesn’t necessarily mean that your life is worse than mine.”

“Did you just admit that I’m right?” Scott straightened his head, looking at his friend in a mix of surprise and disbelief. “Even though that contradicts your entire argument? Or are we both just right?”

“There can only be a right and a wrong, but that’s not the point.” Luke was now navigating the traffic of San Francisco, which they had just entered. He looked dissatisfied.

“Then I suppose we’ll have to agree on a compromise, hmm?” the Alpha suggested amicably.

“Compromises usually just dilute what could be a good solution,” the Brit replied, scratching his chest. “I’m not a fan of compromises.”

“You’ve been making compromises more often lately, haven’t you?”

“Have I?”

Scott nodded affirmatively. “With me?”

“That wasn’t a compromise; it was the hope—no, the knowledge—that I found someone I can truly love in you. A person like no one else in this world.” Luke’s tone was surprisingly calm, though his pounding heart betrayed him.

“People are always unique, Luke,” the werewolf pointed out. “That’s their essence.”

"People are generic. There are eight billion on this planet, and only a small fraction ever comes into our view. They’re just numbers, mere statistics. Only a handful of them are even worth our attention. You're one of them for me, probably the most important one," Luke said, glancing at Scott for a moment while chewing on his lower lip. "You know what I mean, right?"

"Well, yes and no," Scott replied thoughtfully. "What you're saying might have some truth to it, but people are never just blank numbers or statistics. Each person is valuable, and every individual—whether man, woman, or child—has their own personality, values, goals, and destiny. A life can never just be a series of numbers strung together."

"Alright, I give up for today on debating with you," Luke sighed softly, signaling as they approached their destination. "By the way, we’re here."

They pulled up in front of a small shop wedged between a café and a bookstore. Scott raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. He had been expecting some sort of luxurious building that would match his friend's expectations. Instead, the shop looked completely ordinary and unremarkable.

"What’s up?" the Brit asked as they stepped out of the car, striding purposefully toward the store. "You were expecting something different, weren't you?"

"I was," the Alpha confirmed.

"But this is supposed to be the best shop in all of San Francisco. Now come on, I'm curious about what you want to be."

Chapter Text

As soon as they entered the shop, a variety of smells hit Scott: latex, leather, plastic, something reminiscent of modelling clay, and an indeterminate number of foreign scents that he couldn't quite place.

Inside, it was reasonably bright, thanks to the windows that let in sunlight from outside. A multitude of various clothing items and accessories hung around, ranging from brightly coloured waistcoats to classic Indian headdresses, and a large black belt with a wide golden emblem that read "WWE Champion."

Luke made a beeline for the light wooden counter, behind which stood a man in his mid-twenties, clearly of Latino descent. He wore his black baseball cap tilted to the side, and the green tank top barely concealed the numerous tattoos that adorned his body. No hair peeked out from under the cap; only a few faint stubble patches were visible on the sides, similar to the hint of a moustache he sported.

"Paolo?" Luke inquired, leaning his left arm on the counter. Meanwhile, Scott looked around the shop, keeping his friend in his peripheral vision.

Somehow, the alpha was a bit surprised. He had expected a posh shop with half a dozen people bustling about, all dressed in fine attire and eager to anticipate their customers' every need. Neither the location nor Paolo met these expectations in the slightest, and somehow that reassured the werewolf.

"You’re Luke?" Paolo looked up, chewing on something that must have been gum.

"That's right, we spoke on the phone," the Brit confirmed.

"Nice to meet you. You said you were looking for a costume for yourself and your friend?"

Scott was just examining a Batman costume when he looked up and felt his heart skip a beat. So Luke had introduced them as a couple. That was a huge step forward, considering his previous experiences. He exhaled with relief. Nothing unusual had happened yet; they were in a perfectly normal shop, looking to choose perfectly normal costumes. High-quality costumes, as he noticed, since hardly any of them appeared cheap, but nothing suggested they were made from, I don't know, alpaca wool or something like that.

"Correct. We've already discussed what I want to go as, but I think my friend is still a bit undecided, at least I believe so. Right?" Luke glanced over at him. "Have you found anything yet?"

Scott had been searching for something specific but hadn't come across it. In truth, the costume wasn't that important—what mattered was that they had fun and that it would be an enjoyable evening—yet somehow, it stung a little. He wanted to go as a very particular character and was painfully reminded of Stiles. Back when the whole werewolf thing had started, his best friend had come up with that ridiculous idea involving a heart rate monitor, and there was a certain superhero that had fallen into his mind…

"Not really. Well, sort of, but I haven't discovered anything yet." Scott walked over to the counter and lightly rubbed his upper arm. Why was he feeling uncomfortable talking about this? It was just a normal costume wish. Perhaps because he had wanted to go with Stiles? His best friend as Captain Marvel and he as…

"Let me guess: The Incredible Hulk," Paolo concluded, a knowing smile appearing on his lips as he noticed Scott's slightly puzzled expression.

"How did you…?" the Alpha began, earning a wide grin in response.

"Because that's what most people look for. But we don't have an actual Hulk costume."

Scott suppressed a sigh and struggled to hide his disappointment. Well, he could always go as Batman or as an Indian, or maybe even choose a couple's costume to match his friend, who was just reaching for his hand and taking it in his own.

"But most of them look pretty terrible. We have another solution for that, as long as you don't have chicken legs, which you hardly do." Paolo emerged from behind the counter and disappeared into a back room of the shop.

In the meantime, Scott had time to examine his friend more closely and noticed a rather knowing grin on his features. "You knew," he stated bluntly. "How?"

"Lydia," Luke admitted. "Guess who recommended this place to me?"

"You asked Lydia?" Scott was taken aback. That his friend and the banshee had hit it off so well so quickly had somehow slipped past him. Sure, they had regular classes together, and Luke treated her, unlike most others at high school, as an equal, but somehow, that had seemed very important to him until now, especially when he thought about her date. Too important to involve outsiders.

“‘She’s my best friend?’” The Brit tilted his head. “Does she know you?”

“And what’s in it for her?” The Alpha narrowed his eyes slightly. He knew the strawberry blonde well enough to understand that she usually expected a favour in return for any help she offered.

“We’re taking her costume with us.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, I’m paying for it too.” Luke leaned against the counter, draping his free arm over it while swinging the hand that held Scott’s back and forth. “But that’s the least I can do, considering she’s helped me out. Besides, I’m honestly glad, as no one else was willing to deliver so quickly. Plus, the shop has a small alteration service.”

“Of course,” Scott murmured, internally resolving to have a serious talk with Lydia. It simply wasn’t right for her to take advantage of Luke like that. “By the way, what are you going as?”

“That’s supposed to be a surprise.” Luke leaned forward and pressed a fleeting kiss to the corner of his mouth. “But it’s not a couple’s costume.”

“And why is it a surprise then? Some anime character?” he asked. “Or a superhero? Maybe Spider-Man?”

The Brit shook his head, laughing brightly. “No, you’re way off. I’ll give you a hint, but just one: we practice the same sport.”

“So, a footballer!” Scott declared confidently.

“Give up, you won’t guess it.” Luke gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “It’s impossible.”

“That’s just unfair,” the Alpha pouted in annoyance. “You know what I’m going as!”

“Well, that’s what you call predictability.”

Paolo emerged from the back room, carrying a few black boxes, along with two tattered purple trousers—one short and one long. Everything was laid out on the counter, and he looked back and forth between them. “This is what I have.”

Curious, Scott turned his attention to the little pots on the counter. “Is that body paint?”

“Correct, but it's completely plant-based—absolutely odourless and dermatologically safe. It lasts up to 24 hours. If you want to remove it beforehand, just use some soap and clear water. Liquid alone usually isn't enough, though. Unless you're planning to go swimming, it should meet your needs,” Paolo explained, unscrewing one of the pots that contained a greenish paste. Indeed, there wasn't a hint of any unpleasant smell that could have stung Scott's nose.

“And what about a wig or something?” he inquired further.

“Not necessary with your hair, and besides, I think it would ruin the costume. It makes everything look very artificial. I would recommend taking a shower first and then either pressing your hair to your forehead a bit while drying or using some gel or wax.” Paolo flashed him a smile before turning to Luke. “Could you come back here for a moment to check the measurements? Just to confirm?”

Luke nodded, giving Scott's hand a quick squeeze before following Paolo to the back. This left the werewolf alone to continue examining the shop. However, he could still hear the two talking thanks to his keen hearing.

“Stand still and stretch out your arms. Exactly. So, that's your boyfriend?”

“Right, that's Scott.” There was a note of pride in Luke's voice, along with affection and warmth.

“How long have you known each other, if I may ask?” Paolo's voice sounded a bit nasal and strained, as if something was in his mouth that hindered his speech.

“About a month.” There was a brief pause, followed by the sound of a zipper, and Luke continued, “Love at first sight.”

“That sounds romantic. He looks cute too. Do you go to the same class together? Or does he work?”

“No, we’re still in high school. Scott and I are in the same class, just like Lydia and I are. He’s not just cute; he’s sweet, considerate, and terribly gentle. I couldn’t ask for a better boyfriend.”

A smile inevitably crept onto Scott's lips at his friend's words. Luke still sounded just as in love as he had at the beginning, and there was an honesty in his tone. No stubborn hesitation, no shame, or any other negative emotion.

“Someone's really in love, huh? I wish you both all the best. We're done.”

A short while later, the two returned, with Paolo holding a small Post-it note on which he had presumably jotted down the measurements. With a practiced ease, he typed something on the keyboard with his free hand while speaking to them. “I’ll have everything ready by Sunday afternoon. You can pick up the costumes then. But first…” He stepped around the counter and plucked a few pins from the hem of his tank top, pulling out a measuring tape from his pocket. “May I?” he asked Scott.

“What for?” Scott was slightly confused.

“I need to take your trouser measurements.” Before the Alpha could protest, Paolo had already wrapped the measuring tape around him and grabbed one of the trousers from the counter. He alternated between holding the trousers against Scott's body and using the measuring tape, pinning a few spots with the needles and nodding in satisfaction. “There we go.” He stood up and returned to his place.

“See you on Sunday!” Luke waved goodbye, and Scott followed suit. They climbed into the car and set off again, heading back to the hotel, as his friend informed him. The drive was too short for him to ask many questions. As they turned into the entrance of their accommodation, he was left speechless. It seemed that Luke hadn’t quite shed his usual standards after all.

Chapter Text

Gerard hated driving. Since his "accident," as he called it, it had become a torment for him to hoist himself out of the wheelchair and back in again. In fact, he wouldn’t have ventured outside at all, but in this case, he had to make an exception. It was time to undertake a highly interesting experiment.

His “carer” was at the wheel of the spacious black SUV. By now, he was no longer as satisfied with her as he had been at first. She had proven to be somewhat of a leak in certain respects; not to outsiders, but internally. The few people he had managed to keep around him—loyal companions and allies—should not doubt his leadership abilities. He was certain his plan would succeed.

Today's experiment was nothing more than a minor distraction. Gerard had dug into Scott's life, which, of course, hadn’t been particularly difficult, as his grandson provided him with unprecedented opportunities. His resource capacity had increased considerably. Thus, it was a piece of cake to unearth those dirty details that the Alpha werewolf kept hidden.

Of course, Luke mustn't find out about any of this, as deeply in love as his grandson was; it would be akin to sacrilege to defame his first serious boyfriend (the old man regularly had to refrain from rolling his eyes at this term). Although "defame" was probably the wrong word. Scott McCall's life was, in Gerard's opinion, just a bit too perfect.

There was a loving mother whom he could rely on, a stable environment of friends, and now it seemed his financial worries were also a thing of the past, as was the question of true love. To be honest, it did surprise him a little that the werewolf had become so quickly attached to his grandson; however, what went on in the heads of teenagers would always be somewhat elusive to him. He had never enjoyed the luxury of an "untroubled" childhood and, to be frank, he didn’t miss that experience. Life was the best teacher, and he was firmly convinced of his methods.

Perhaps it was this longing to find a soulmate that had prompted Scott to enter this relationship. It was also quite astonishing how insecure Luke seemed with his new partner. The boy usually approached a problem head-on and cleared it away if the desired success did not manifest quickly. He had never expressed doubts about himself—only concerning his mother. When it came to Kate, his grandson had always believed that her disinterest stemmed from his own mistakes and shortcomings.

Impatiently, Gerard tapped around the handle of the passenger door while observing Stacy, the carer, as she navigated the vehicle through the traffic. He would have to replace her soon. She had been careless. A wrong word or a thoughtless remark could jeopardize the entire operation. She probably wouldn't be able to pull herself together, but he would think about that later at home. For now, she was still useful to him.

Luke's personality change concerned him slightly. Of course, the boy would still do everything he asked of him, for after all, he was his loving grandpa who had always taken time for him, and any lies Scott or others hurled at him would surely provoke an outburst of anger, but he was also aware of how easily influenced his grandson was. Therefore, it was time to coax him out of his shell a bit and bring some havoc into the supposed paradise.

There was someone in Scott's life who wasn't particularly close to him, although he should have been. This someone was, of course, interested in him, but also wallowed in self-reproach and pity, blaming himself for the failures of the past years. Living in the past led nowhere.

Gerard intended to take advantage of this mental wreck. Not overtly, of course, as that would have been counterproductive, but this someone would indeed prove to be useful. Perhaps he would even awaken something in Luke that the boy had been trying to bury for quite some time.

He thoughtfully stroked his chin. All in all, he could nevertheless be satisfied. Fear permeated Derek’s pack. Everyone feared being the next one, and this did not refer to losing their lives. His latest weapon was not only a physical marvel but, above all, a psychological one. Ice-cold and brutal. This cruelty and ruthlessness had scared the werewolves. They had still kept the velvet gloves on, just a small taste of what was yet to come.

Gerard was particularly eager to see Jackson's development. His psyche must have been severely affected. He was certainly afraid at night. An amused grin crept onto his lips. The boy had been a disappointment, and he did not tolerate failure. Just as he didn't tolerate it with Allison.

She had betrayed her family and her principles for a flea-ridden werewolf. First for Scott, then for that Lahey boy. The same went for his son, who he still had to settle accounts with. But all in good time. First, he needed to teach Scott a little lesson.

He had opted for a telephone booth. Those old-fashioned things could hardly be traced back, if at all, and even if they could, suspicion would never fall on him, as they were far enough from Beacon Hills and no one knew where they had gone. Gerard preferred one that stood near a park, where there were always a few ducks swimming in the pond. There was something soothing about watching those creatures. For whatever reason.

After a good two hours of driving, they arrived at the little town the old man had chosen. He had Stacey help him into the wheelchair and then sent her off to run some errands while he set about to conduct his conversation, armed with plenty of coins. Of course, he had already been here once to test whether he could operate the booth on his own. To his delight, this was indeed possible. He had to stretch a bit to reach the coin slot, which was a bit of a hassle, and also to dial the number, but the rest worked comfortably.

He reached into his coat pocket to attach a small, inconspicuous black device to the bottom of the receiver as a precaution, then dropped in the coins and dialled the number he had uncovered. It rang. A good sign.

“Special Agent McCall,” he heard on the other end after the call connected, and a satisfied smile formed on his lips.

“Good day, Mr. McCall,” he began politely. “Who I am is of no concern to you, and don’t bother trying to find out where I am or from where I’m calling; I’ve taken precautions since I’m contacting you on your work phone.”

There was a brief silence, then a firm and self-assured response came: “You’re overestimating your options, whoever you may be. The FBI has means and ways…” he started, but Gerard promptly interrupted him.

“And I have options too, Mr. McCall. Let’s leave it at a stalemate, shall we? After all, I mean you no harm. On the contrary, I’d rather do you a favour.”

Again there was an awkward silence. Undoubtedly, Scott’s father would try to trace the call. While it was futile, he didn’t want to deprive him of the pleasure of failing miserably.

“A favour? You must be joking. You do realise you’re calling the FBI, and this could be a matter of criminal relevance?” Rafael’s voice was clear and persuasive, containing no hint of doubt. Very good.

“No, and I object to such insinuations. Of course, I could always hang up if your son means nothing to you,” Gerard replied calmly.

Now it took less than two seconds for a hasty response to follow. The Special Agent’s voice trembled a little now. A sore spot. “That was easy,” Gerard noted with amusement. People were so predictable.

“What do you want with my son?” he asked immediately.

“Not as much as you think. I just wanted to inform you that he is currently near you, in San Francisco, more precisely at the Ritz-Carlton.”

Silence. A gloriously sweet silence, filled with hope and desperation. Luke's grandfather was well aware of the McCall family situation and the chilly relationship between father and son. From what he could gather, it was Mr. McCall who suffered the most from this distance.

“I’m hanging up now,” he heard from the other end.

"From today until Sunday. He is accompanied by a dark-blonde boy of his age. Notable is the car they are using to navigate the city: a black Mercedes with a British license plate."

Gerard could hear the commotion in the background. The colleagues were likely just informing Mister McCall that they couldn't trace the call. Fools. To not be able to attempt the simplest and most straightforward methods with such advanced technology was almost pitiful. Had he been a different man, he might have felt guilty about exploiting a father's worries…

"I still think this is a joke. No matter who you are, stay away from my son, or else…" Rafael's voice now sounded noticeably agitated and nervous. So much for the professionalism of the FBI and their abilities in dealing with criminals.

"You can check for yourself. Your son now has a steady boyfriend, the son of Daniel Taylor, founder and owner of Phoenix International. As I happen to know, the FBI intends to completely outfit themselves with Mister Taylor's products. It might be worth considering forcing and supporting this relationship, although the question arises as to who else Mister Taylor offers his products to."

Unfortunately, Luke's father was many things, but not foolish. If he truly was involved in illegal arms trafficking, proving it would be exceptionally challenging. The man had an exceptionally good business sense and an almost paranoid streak when it came to his personal life. Yet, it wouldn't hurt to sow further doubts about the integrity of Daniel, and thus Luke. The FBI was surely keeping an eye on him.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Rafael’s voice trembled slightly.

"As I said, the Ritz-Carlton, and I would advise you to tidy up things at the Beacon Hills Sheriff’s Department. The number of unsolved murders in this town is almost too conspicuous. The Sheriff is probably covering for the murderer. Have a pleasant day, Mister McCall."

With that, Gerard hung up and removed the device from the receiver. Now it was a matter of waiting to see if Luke and Scott would receive a visit. Most likely they would, given that Rafael McCall was attached to his son. The old man shook his head in disbelief. It was unfathomable. He rolled out of the phone booth and back towards the car. Stacy was still not there; a glance at his watch revealed that the conversation hadn't taken as long as he had thought. However, it wasn't the duration that counted, but the effect—and especially his grandson's reaction. Nothing more.

Chapter Text

As they turned into the building's entrance, Scott's breath caught in his throat. The structure resembled a modern Greek temple, with columns made of white stone, probably marble, supporting a wide archway adorned with numerous ornaments. Above this ornate entrance, the whole complex appeared even more contemporary, with a flat roof, stucco, and everything one would need to make a classy impression. The werewolf also realised where they were headed.

“Luke, this is the Ritz-Carlton,” he stated, incredulously.

“You’ve got a sharp pair of eyes,” his friend replied with a giggle.

“That’s not funny,” Scott muttered. “I really don’t want to know how much this is going to cost…”

“Far less than I’d like, but way too much for you.” Luke parked the car right outside the entrance. “But before you launch into a moral lecture: I didn’t choose this hotel just because of its upscale amenities.”

“Then why?” The Alpha observed his friend grumpily as he activated the parking mode of the Mercedes and removed the key from the ignition.

“I’ve been here a few times with Dad,” he explained, making a face that mirrored Scott's expression. “Stop looking like that, it’s making me anxious.”

“It should,” Scott sighed. “I honestly hoped this would be just a normal trip.” The hope for a regular weekend was gone. He should have known better. Stiles would be grinning at him, accusing him of how naïve it was to think one could turn a rich city kid into an ordinary boy. To turn a fairytale prince into a peasant… The thought of his best friend weighed heavily on his heart.

“Scott…” Luke chewed on his lower lip, revealing a bit of his braces. “It’s just the hotel, okay? I didn’t reserve anything special for us. We’re just normal guests in a high-end hotel complex. That’s all.” He ran a guilty hand through his hair. “There will be people in the restaurant, the room service will treat us like any other guests in this price category, and I’ll try to behave normally too.”

There he was again: the shy Luke. His shy Luke. The reason he could never stay mad at him for long; he was very aware of his faults. Maybe Scott was just wanting too much all at once. If it really were just the hotel and they acted like ordinary tourists in San Francisco otherwise, that was already a step forward. He stubbornly pushed down the inner voice that mockingly pointed out how little one could look like a normal tourist in a top-notch luxury car. Instead, he reached for his friend’s hand and squeezed it briefly.

“It’s alright,” he reassured Luke, who immediately looked visibly relieved.

They got out together, and the British boy handed the key to one of the staff members who seemed responsible for parking. “Be careful with that.” When he noticed the Alpha's gaze, he added a hasty “Please” and walked ahead. As Luke left his luggage in the car, Scott decided to do the same.

Inside, the werewolf realised how mistaken he had been. The cost of the night would likely exceed his monthly earnings. The thought intensified when Luke spoke with the concierge, who seemed to know him well.

“Ah, Mister Taylor,” the man greeted Luke enthusiastically. “We’ve been expecting you. Today even with company?” The mid-fifties man, with laugh lines etched into his face, appeared friendly and genuinely pleased to see them, offering Luke an honest smile in return.

“Good evening, Maurice.” Luke quickly grabbed Scott’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “This is Scott, my friend.” He beamed with pride, almost puffing out his chest.

“Hello,” Scott managed to respond quietly. He glanced around furtively. People seemed not to pay any further attention to them as the activity in the hotel lobby, which was adorned with elegance and style, continued unabated. He exhaled in relief: Luke hadn’t lied to him after all.

“Nice to meet you, Scott, I’m Maurice,” the concierge introduced himself before turning back to Luke. “We’ve prepared the suite for you.” With that, he handed the key card to the Brit. “We don’t need to go through the usual formalities; you’ve been here often enough. I wish you a pleasant stay. Your luggage will be taken to your room, as always. Please send your regards to your father.”

Luke thanked Maurice and then, with Scott in hand, headed purposefully towards the lift, where he impatiently pressed the button. He seemed somewhat nervous, and the Alpha wondered why. Was it the unusual situation of needing to say "please" and "thank you" because they were holding hands in public, or something else?

“What’s bothering you?” the werewolf asked cautiously.

“Nothing,” his friend dismissed, intensely focusing on the floor indicator above the lift entrance.

"You’re a terrible liar." Scott paused for a moment, wondering if Luke would respond, then continued upon noticing the lack of reaction, "Is it because of me?"

"Why would you think that?" Suddenly, he had Scott’s full attention. The Brit looked shocked.

"Because you’re acting weird," Scott stated. "And you’re holding my hand so tightly that I feel like you might break my fingers."

There it was—the second guilty look of the day. "It’s not you," Luke explained quietly, visibly relieved when the lift chimed and the doors opened to reveal an empty cabin. Scott was almost pulled inside before the doors closed again, prompting his friend to exhale audibly.

"It’s not you, not at all. Don't ever think that!" Luke began, agitated but avoiding any eye contact with him. "It’s just that I don’t like it very much when people connect me with Dad."

Scott raised an eyebrow in surprise. He had expected many things, but not this. After all, his friend enjoyed flaunting his wealth, showcasing what he had that others didn’t, being a true Brit… Of course, he knew Luke had a complicated relationship with his father; they had once discussed it. But it surprised him how uncomfortable it made him.

The lift chimed again, cutting off the conversation, and his friend hurried towards their room. Scott followed him, and when Luke unlocked the door with the key card and revealed their new place for the weekend, Scott’s breath caught in his throat. He had anticipated many things, but not this.

Their "room" resembled an apartment. The "living room" was gigantic. Two large dark sofas paired with two armchairs, a massive flat-screen TV on the wall, a well-stocked bookshelf, tasteful decorations in the form of art and flowers from various origins, a glass table, carpets, polished parquet, and probably dozens of other things that Scott couldn’t take in with just a quick look around.

"Over there is the dining room; we have two bathrooms, and there’s also a guest room. Depending on what you prefer, you can bathe, shower, or relax in the whirlpool. There’s a minibar too, unless they’ve emptied it out and replaced it with something non-alcoholic because we’re still under 21." Luke seemed completely unfazed by their accommodation. Instead, he plopped down on one of the sofas, intertwining his fingers behind his head. "The view of San Francisco is great from outside. The balcony is nice in summer; not sure about now."

"Luke," Scott began cautiously, wanting to ask something. "How many rooms do we actually have?"

"Nine. Room service will bring up the food. You can order whatever you want, unless you want to go downstairs to the restaurant. There’s also a gym. If you need anything else, just make a call." His friend sounded rather bored, as if settling into such a luxurious suite was the most normal thing in the world.

"That must cost a fortune, right?" The werewolf moved toward the closed balcony door to take in the financial district of San Francisco. Several seating options invited relaxation on the spacious terrace outside.

"I refrain from comment." Luke appeared impatient as he joined Scott and crossed his arms over his chest. "Where on earth is our luggage?" He was clearly grumpy and restless.

"We could have carried our luggage up ourselves," Scott suggested soothingly. "It’s not that much."

"I’m certainly not paying this amount to have to do anything myself." The Brit was tapping his fingers impatiently on his upper arms. "Which room do you want?"

"What do you mean by that?" The werewolf tilted his head in confusion.

"It’s all included in the price and…"

Just as Luke was about to continue, there was a knock at the door. He gave Scott a quick kiss on the cheek and dashed off while the Alpha took another look at the view and retreated into the room, where he flopped onto the freshly made bed. This wasn’t how he had envisioned his weekend, although he had to admit that the luxury did have its appeal. He was not used to such a soft bed. Maybe he would get used to it if he spent more time with Luke? He quickly dismissed that thought; he had grown up grounded and wanted to remain that way.

Chapter Text

Saturday had turned out to be exceedingly pleasant. They had indeed, more or less, been simple tourists in San Francisco. Together, they had admired the Golden Gate Bridge, ridden the cable cars, and had even been daring enough to take a tour of Alcatraz, during which Luke had seemed almost obsessed with Al Capone, driving the tour guide to the brink of despair with his incessant questions.

Overall, the day had unfolded quite peacefully. Luke, of course, had not stooped to grabbing a quick hotdog somewhere, insisting instead on dragging Scott to a fancy restaurant, but that had pretty much been the only thing that had diverged from the "norm." That and the fact that the Brit could be quite clingy. Luke practically clung to him; it had been evident even when they first got up together: the werewolf hadn't been able to move an inch with his friend practically lying on top of him. There was certainly no sign left of the stiff demeanor from yesterday.

At that moment, they were sitting in the hotel restaurant having dinner. Luke had opted for a steak with homemade herb butter and fried potatoes, accompanied by some suitable vegetables, while Scott had been drawn to the Pasta Taratata. After a brief perusal of the dish description (and a little explanation from Luke), he had made his choice. His friend was thoroughly amused by Scott’s first mouthful.

“What are you grinning about?” the werewolf asked with a smirk.

“Nothing. It's just funny watching you so hesitantly take the spaghetti into your mouth. You've really never eaten this before?” Luke cut a piece of his steak and dipped it in the melted herb butter.

“Stiles makes it differently,” came the reply, and a fleeting shadow passed over his face, which seemed not to be noticed by his friend. Stiles… he somewhat missed him. Luke and he had to make amends. He wouldn’t be able to stand it long-term.

“Stiles cooks for you?” The Brit raised his eyebrows sceptically. “He can do that?”

“Stiles is the best cook in the world,” Scott declared with firm conviction. “There's nothing he can't make.”

“You're only saying that because he’s your best friend,” Luke surmised as he speared a fried potato with his fork. “I bet Jonathan is the better cook.”

“Not a chance,” came the immediate retort. “No one cooks better than Stiles, not even Mum!”

“I give up,” sighed his counterpart. “It seems no one can change your mind when it comes to Stiles and his stubbornness.”

Scott grinned triumphantly and was about to respond, when he paused, nearly dropping his fork. He thought he heard a voice coming from the entrance to the restaurant; a voice he recognised well.

“What’s wrong? Are the spaghetti bad?” Luke asked, concerned. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Instead of answering, the werewolf concentrated. He could only make out snippets of conversation, but what he heard didn't bode well. He hadn't thought of that, especially since San Francisco was bloody huge. The chances of running into someone, particularly in this fancy hotel, were slim to none.

“Scott?” His friend now looked at him, visibly troubled. “Is everything okay? You seem so anxious.”

The nervousness had a reason that was now manifesting itself as they approached their table, flesh and blood. Scott's unease stemmed from the sight of his father, who appeared to have spotted him as well. The Alpha tried to make himself as small as possible under the bewildered expression of his friend. This simply couldn't be happening.

Any denial was futile: that figure in front of him was definitely his dad. Scott hadn't had any contact with him for years. There were good reasons for that, and he was honestly quite glad to have him out of his life, but somehow it seemed his father viewed it a bit differently. In any case, he appeared determined to speak with him.

Rafael McCall was dressed, as usual, in a sports jacket with a matching shirt and trousers, coordinated shoes to go with. The only thing he hadn't been wearing today was his FBI badge around his neck, though Scott was certain he had it stashed away somewhere. His father fixed his gaze on Scott, who was trying to shrink down as much as possible. He couldn't afford a scene in the restaurant, especially not in front of Luke.

“Scott? Scott, we need to talk.” His dad got straight to the point as soon as he arrived at the table, ignoring Luke entirely. Luke raised an eyebrow at Scott, who responded with an intuitive, almost imperceptible shake of his head before returning to his steak with renewed focus.

“I don’t want to talk to you. How did you even know I was in San Francisco?” the werewolf spat, glaring angrily at his father. “Were you spying on me?”

“I wasn’t, and that’s beside the point.” Rafael lowered his voice slightly. “Please don’t make a scene, alright?”

“And what if I do?” Scott challenged, practically on the brink of exploding. He had made it abundantly clear during their last encounter that he wanted nothing to do with his father. He had blocked every attempted outreach since then.

“That’s unnecessary, and you know it,” Rafael replied, calm as ever. “How about we step outside for a moment?”

“I don’t want to go outside. What I want is peace from you!” Scott shot back. “Did you not understand that the last time? Should I write it down for you? Do you need a certified document?”

His dad seemed to have anticipated this kind of rejection and its intensity, as he didn’t flinch. Instead, he simply sighed and rubbed his temples with his thumb and fingers. “Scott, you’re still too young to understand what happened back then. You were back then too, and that hasn’t changed.”

That was the last straw. He was no longer a child. It had been his father’s fault that his mother and he had separated. Treating him like a minor now was downright insulting. He opened his mouth to tell his father where he could stick his explanations when they both paused.

“Listen, I don’t know who you are, and to be honest, I don’t particularly care. What bothers me is that you seem stubborn enough not to understand that Scott wants nothing to do with you. You’re interrupting our meal, and I hate it when my food gets cold.” Luke had not even looked up from his plate and spoke with surprising calmness — calmer even than his father.

“Don’t get involved, kid,” Rafael replied, slightly impatient. “This doesn’t concern you at all.”

“It does.” The Brit now fixed his gaze on Rafael, his eyebrows slowly lowering. “Scott is my boyfriend. I think that’s sufficient as an answer regarding what concerns me and what doesn’t. You have the choice to leave now, or I’ll ensure you’re banned from here.” Luke’s voice was exceedingly quiet, yet well audible, carrying a distinctly threatening undertone.

Rafael furrowed his brow, glancing back and forth between Luke and Scott. It seemed to take him a moment to comprehend what he was facing. “Boyfriend?” He turned back to Scott. “Care to explain that to me?”

“Scott won’t explain anything to you because he owes you no justification. Besides, we’re having a conversation right now, and it’s incredibly rude to leave your conversation partner out in the rain.” Luke set down his knife and fork at the edge of his plate and cleared his throat. “I will not repeat myself: Scott does not wish to have anything to do with you at this time, whoever you are.” He raised the thumb of his right hand to his middle finger and pressed the index finger against it. “I am counting to three now.”

“Listen, it may be that at home you’re used to everyone letting you get away with everything, but not here. I know who you are, and if you think you can intimidate me, you’re mistaken.” Rafael was now fixated on Luke, staring him down.

“One…” His friend still sounded calm, which surprised Scott the most.

“Let it go, Luke,” Scott urged, attempting to placate the Brit.

“I have a right to speak to Scott,” Rafael began, but Luke responded with a simple “Two.”

“Dad, stop,” he pleaded with his father.

“I'll handle this momentarily, Scott.” Rafael hadn’t taken his eyes off Luke. “This intimidation tactic won’t work on me.”

“Three.” With that, Luke snapped his fingers in the direction of one of the waiters, who promptly approached their table. “Inform Mr. Dellahan that this man here is harassing us. I wish for him to be expelled from the hotel with a prohibition on returning.”

The waiter briefly appraised Luke, then glanced at Scott's father before nodding and hurrying out of the restaurant. Luke then turned back to Rafael: “And you will be hearing from my lawyers.”

“Do you really think that’ll work?” came the mocking retort. “I'm with the FBI.”

“The question is, for how much longer. When I’m done with you, you’ll be spending your time until retirement monitoring parking meters. Rest assured, I will be filing a service complaint against you, as well as a report for suspected abuse of office. If I were you, I would hire a good lawyer and pray that the judge is biased in your favour. And please send your legal representative my regards, as he should also prepare for the temporary restraining order you’ll receive, which will include a ban on contact and entry. Have a pleasant evening.” With that, Luke picked up his knife and fork again, resuming his meal, though he grimaced slightly at the next bite and reached for the napkin to dab at his mouth. “Now it’s cold.”

His friend stood up and nodded at Scott for him to do the same. Without acknowledging his father, who looked slightly bewildered, the werewolf followed suit and this time it was he who reached for Luke's hand. Purposefully, Luke led him to the lift while Rafael, accompanied by several others, hurried past them.

Once they were inside the elevator, Scott exhaled in relief. “Thanks,” he murmured towards Luke.

“Not at all.” The Brit waved his free hand dismissively. “Can I say something without overstepping?”

“Hmm?”

“Your father seems like a complete idiot.”

Scott let out a mirthless laugh. “He is. I’m surprised he managed to control himself.” He paused for a moment. “Were those empty threats you just made? How do you know so much about this stuff?”

“I was around enough when Dad dealt with matters like this.” Luke glanced over at him. “If you want, I can make sure he doesn’t have a bridge under which to sleep.”

“I don’t think that’ll be necessary.” Scott took a deep breath, straightening his shoulders a bit. He tried to calm himself. It had all been quite overwhelming. He hadn’t expected Luke's composed and sensible reaction, especially as he had not once shied away from his father’s piercing gaze.

“Just think about it, alright?” Luke squeezed his hand firmly, which Scott appreciated, and together they made their way to their room. For the first time since he’d known his friend, the werewolf witnessed how well he handled situations without visible emotion. He wondered how far this self-control extended and why he couldn’t showcase it at school. Once in the room, Luke closed the door behind them, and they were alone. Scott promptly let himself flop onto the sofa and closed his eyes. So much for a lovely day going down the drain.

Chapter Text

Barely had he settled down on the sofa when he felt two warm hands wrap around his fingers, prompting him to reopen his eyes. Luke looked at him with concern and soothingly brushed his thumb over the back of his hand. He had positioned himself across from him on the dark coffee table, close enough to be physically near.

“Would you like to talk about it?” he asked softly. “Of course, you don’t have to.”

“I… yes, no, oh, I don’t know,” sighed the werewolf, scooting a little forward so that their knees nearly touched. He looked deeply into Luke’s eyes, contemplating. Should he say something? After all, it was his past, and his friend already seemed emotionally burdened enough. Once again, he wished Stiles were there; his best friend would have cracked a joke and assured him that everything would be alright.

“You know, Luke, the situation between my father and me is complicated. He did something many, many years ago that drove us apart. As a family. I lived with him for a while here in San Francisco, but I couldn't get along with him. Dad wasn't a bad father, but he was always so protective, so overbearing, and he never took me seriously. Mum is different.” Scott observed Luke closely as he opened his heart. Luke simply listened calmly, continuing to stroke his fingers.

“I then moved in with Mum, and we managed pretty well without Dad. Of course, money has always been a bit tight, still is now, but nothing justifies letting him back into my life. Too much has happened.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Luke sounded neither pushy nor demanding, but surprisingly empathetic. Exactly what Scott needed right now. There was no expectation in his voice, no authoritative behaviour, nothing.

“Dad had a drinking problem. How serious it was, I can't really judge in hindsight. He was never physical with me, only once, and that was more or less an accident.” The Alpha hesitated to reveal the rest. As well as he knew his friend, Luke would probably explode and might even declare a vendetta against his father.

“To you or your mother?” Luke asked calmly. “I assume that’s why your parents separated?”

“Yes, they separated because of that,” Scott confirmed. “Mum and Dad were arguing in the hallway. I was there, maybe four or five years old, and I came out of my room to see what was going on. Then Dad grabbed me by the arm to bring me back into my room. Of course, I resisted, and I ended up falling down the stairs.” Scott had settled for a half-truth, especially since he himself wasn't entirely sure what had really happened. The end result was a concussion, which he didn’t want to mention to Luke.

His friend remained silent, his expression not noticeably changing. He only furrowed his brow slightly and reacted with a quiver of his nostrils. Nonetheless, he continued his loving and gentle treatment of Scott's fingers.

“That, anyway, led to an inevitable break with Dad. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him, even if it was an accident. You’ve seen how he treats me: still like the little boy from back then,” Scott added after a while.

“I noticed, yes.” Luke edged a little closer, so their knees were fully touching now. The toes of his sneakers brushed against those of the Alpha, and he adopted a seriously stern expression. “You know, as your friend, I naturally feel responsible for you and your mother. If you want, I can make sure he won't dare to come anywhere near you again. Dad has very good lawyers, specialised in every area of law, in every country where his company has a branch. This includes America as well.”

“I don’t know if I want that,” Scott admitted honestly. It wasn't as if his father would be lurking around. In fact, he had behaved himself until that outburst this evening. Perhaps he was being too hard on his dad? Couldn’t one look at his situation rationally? He had essentially faced social ruin. His only son had no contact with him, and he didn't seem willing to bind anew. Of course, his mother and father hadn't been soulmates, yet Mum had always assured him that the best thing that ever happened to her in life was his birth. So, Rafael couldn't be that bad a person, could he?

“You have all the time in the world to decide, Scott. I won’t take any legal action against him without your consent, okay?” Luke now pushed his legs between Scott's and moved so close to him that he could feel his warm breath against his skin. “But I also want you to know that I won’t tolerate the way he treats you. Parents should be there for their children, love them, protect them, and not treat them like they’re immature little demons that can have their will imposed upon them.” Then Luke gently pressed his lips against Scott's, which the werewolf returned, slowly closing his eyes. They sank back into the sofa, feeling the weight of his friend on him, along with his fingers brushing through his hair.

In that moment, it was possible for him to forget. To forget what had just happened, to forget how much he longed for Stiles, and also to forget who he was and the responsibilities that came with it. Right now, he was simply Scott, being kissed by his friend Luke. That friend Luke, who was now cradling the back of his head with both hands as he lay on top of him.

Scott enjoyed those touches, the kiss, and everything it brought with it. Instinctively, he wrapped his arms around Luke's back, pulling him tighter against himself. They were practically glued together, and the werewolf dared to open his eyes. His friend looked at him intently, briefly parting his lips to take a breath before diving back in.

Luke's lips left a tingle on his own. The same went for the fingers on his skin, which had worked their way down from his hair to his neck. It didn’t take long before excitement took hold of Scott’s senses. The touches of his friend, combined with his actions, were more than enough to ignite desire within him. And that made him forget everything around them. He leaned into the kisses, reciprocating as they barely allowed themselves time to breathe.

Luke briefly sat up to shed his college jacket, as well as his shirt. He carelessly tossed both aside, only to do the same with Scott’s garments. Naturally, he didn’t resist; the sight of Luke’s toned torso was enough to make him willingly assist. As soon as they were both bare-chested, they resumed where they had left off.

His friend wrapped himself around the werewolf and kissed him passionately. This time, the fear of losing control on Scott’s part didn’t surface. Instead, he focused entirely on the sensory impressions crashing down on him: Luke’s hot breath on his skin, his fingers desperately grasping at his back, the knee he had pushed between his legs, the panting that reached his ear, his own heartbeat, and that of his friend…

Scott’s hands roamed over Luke's torso, and just like last time, he found it pleasant to touch him there. Feeling the muscles, brushing over the scar, which made Luke flinch slightly and press against him.

His friend detached his lips and opened his mouth, clearly about to say something when there was a knock at the door. Luke’s expression darkened instantly. He seemed willing to ignore the knocking, but it happened again. Letting out a low grunt, he rolled off Scott and threw him an apologetic look.

“I’ll be right there,” he snapped as the third knock came, now noticeably more forceful. Hastily, he slipped back into his shirt and tossed Scott his before heading to the door. The werewolf barely had enough time to don the garment himself before the door opened.

“Mr Taylor, I apologise for the interruption, but it’s about the incident earlier…” Maurice stood in the doorway, sounding visibly flustered. A fleeting glance at Scott made him quickly turn back to Luke, whose expression remained closed off. He was content with the view of Luke’s back.

“If you wish to apologise, that’s not necessary. I’m sure you’ve handled the whole matter competently,” came Luke’s response, sounding very impatient; to say he was slightly annoyed would have been an understatement.

“Well, that’s the problem. We can’t get him off the premises.” Maurice sounded markedly perturbed. “He has already threatened to take legal action and keeps waving an FBI badge around. That makes the staff nervous, and so do the guests.”

“Got it, I’ll take care of it.” Luke exhaled noticeably annoyed. “Give me half an hour, Maurice.” With that, he slammed the door behind him and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Why do I always have the luck of dealing with some…” He bit his lip.

“If Dad is really causing that much trouble, I should probably go out and talk to him?” suggested the Alpha.

“No.” The Brit shook his head decisively. “That’s the last thing that should happen.” He reached into his right trouser pocket and pulled out his iPhone. He gave the display a scrutinising look, then unlocked his phone and adopted a grim expression.

“What are you doing?” Scott asked, standing up.

“Getting rid of your father.” Luke held the iPhone up to his right ear.

“And how?” The werewolf stood next to his friend. “Please don’t do anything silly, okay? I can really go outside and…”

Luke turned away from him. “Dad? Hello?”

Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did Luke just say ‘Dad’? That meant he was on the phone with his father. From the way his friend had sounded, it was clearly not something he did often or enjoyed. In fact, Scott had never seen him reach out to his family back home.

“Luke? It’s nice to hear from you, considering the time. Is it time? Have you managed to make me a grandfather? Or did you run someone over? Is the car a wreck?”

Luke’s father sounded amused, almost entertained. He had a deep voice that came with an undefined undertone, mixed with a slightly sleepy inflection. The question was whether these remarks were genuinely serious or not. His friend rolled his eyes.

“No, everything is fine,” he replied.

“Well, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be calling me in the middle of the night. So, what’s going on? Are you in jail? Have you participated in an illegal street race?” Luke’s father still sounded highly amused. Somehow, Scott felt that he secretly relished teasing his son a bit.

“I have problems with the FBI,” Luke stated bluntly.

“Oh really, the FBI. How did you manage that? Using drugs? That’s not good for your budding career as a professional footballer, you know?”

“Ugh, Dad, shut up,” the Brit snapped into his smartphone. “I’m currently at the Ritz-Carlton and…” He hesitated for a moment, throwing Scott an apologetic glance. “My friend’s father won’t leave us alone.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Scott blinked in slight perplexity. So Luke had already talked to his father about their relationship? Or had he? After all, there was almost no chance of him getting pregnant.

“So you have a boyfriend?” Luke’s dad asked. “How long has that been going on?”

“Dad, that’s not what this is about.” His friend rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “The guy won’t leave us alone, and he’s waving his FBI badge around like it’s his ticket of admission.”

“Does he have anything against your relationship? I mean, I’m a bit taken aback that you’re bringing home a son-in-law instead of a daughter-in-law. What happened to Lisa, Mary’s daughter? She absolutely adored you, and you didn’t even give her the time of day… Is he from a good family?” Luke’s father sounded curious.

“Oh my goodness, Dad…” Luke huffed, clearly frustrated. “I want to get rid of the guy, okay? Nothing more, nothing less. Can you send a few of your lawyers over?”

“Luke, we both know that you’re not very good at making the right decisions, and if you’re already calling him a bum, which might actually be true, then I’m well aware that it’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

“Are you sending someone or not?” his friend growled. “Or do I have to go down there and hit him over the head? So that you can actually come and bail me out of jail?”

A sigh could be heard. “Alright, I’ll take care of it.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Luke muttered.

“I heard that.”

“That was intended.” With that, the Brit hung up and ran a hand through his hair with a huff. “For heaven’s sake – he has one job and he can’t even get that right.”

That sounded harsh to Scott. His father had at least made an effort and had an immediate solution at hand, or at least wanted to provide one. It also seemed to be the middle of the night in Britain. While the fact that his father thought he was going to become a grandfather or that Luke would end up in jail spoke for itself, overall, Daniel Taylor hadn’t sounded like the monster his friend had described. However, the expression on the Brit’s face caused Scott to refrain from probing further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out onto the balcony. It had grown dark, but a sea of lights illuminated the bustling city. On the other side of the hotel, his father was likely trying to regain entry or something similar.

“And how?” The werewolf stood next to his friend. “Please don’t do anything silly, okay? I can really go outside and…”

Luke turned away from him. “Dad? Hello?”

Scott raised his eyebrows in surprise. Did Luke just say ‘Dad’? That meant he was on the phone with his father. From the way his friend had sounded, it was clearly not something he did often or enjoyed. In fact, Scott had never seen him reach out to his family back home.

“Luke? It’s nice to hear from you, considering the time. Is it time? Have you managed to make me a grandfather? Or did you run someone over? Is the car a wreck?”

Luke’s father sounded amused, almost entertained. He had a deep voice that came with an undefined undertone, mixed with a slightly sleepy inflection. The question was whether these remarks were genuinely serious or not. His friend rolled his eyes.

“No, everything is fine,” he replied.

“Well, if that were the case, you wouldn’t be calling me in the middle of the night. So, what’s going on? Are you in jail? Have you participated in an illegal street race?” Luke’s father still sounded highly amused. Somehow, Scott felt that he secretly relished teasing his son a bit.

“I have problems with the FBI,” Luke stated bluntly.

“Oh really, the FBI. How did you manage that? Using drugs? That’s not good for your budding career as a professional footballer, you know?”

“Ugh, Dad, shut up,” the Brit snapped into his smartphone. “I’m currently at the Ritz-Carlton and…” He hesitated for a moment, throwing Scott an apologetic glance. “My friend’s father won’t leave us alone.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line. Scott blinked in slight perplexity. So Luke had already talked to his father about their relationship? Or had he? After all, there was almost no chance of him getting pregnant.

“So you have a boyfriend?” Luke’s dad asked. “How long has that been going on?”

“Dad, that’s not what this is about.” His friend rubbed his forehead with his thumb and index finger. “The guy won’t leave us alone, and he’s waving his FBI badge around like it’s his ticket of admission.”

“Does he have anything against your relationship? I mean, I’m a bit taken aback that you’re bringing home a son-in-law instead of a daughter-in-law. What happened to Lisa, Mary’s daughter? She absolutely adored you, and you didn’t even give her the time of day… Is he from a good family?” Luke’s father sounded curious.

“Oh my goodness, Dad…” Luke huffed, clearly frustrated. “I want to get rid of the guy, okay? Nothing more, nothing less. Can you send a few of your lawyers over?”

“Luke, we both know that you’re not very good at making the right decisions, and if you’re already calling him a bum, which might actually be true, then I’m well aware that it’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

“Are you sending someone or not?” his friend growled. “Or do I have to go down there and hit him over the head? So that you can actually come and bail me out of jail?”

A sigh could be heard. “Alright, I’ll take care of it.”

“Well, it’s about time,” Luke muttered.

“I heard that.”

“That was intended.” With that, the Brit hung up and ran a hand through his hair with a huff. “For heaven’s sake – he has one job and he can’t even get that right.”

That sounded harsh to Scott. His father had at least made an effort and had an immediate solution at hand, or at least wanted to provide one. It also seemed to be the middle of the night in Britain. While the fact that his father thought he was going to become a grandfather or that Luke would end up in jail spoke for itself, overall, Daniel Taylor hadn’t sounded like the monster his friend had described. However, the expression on the Brit’s face caused Scott to refrain from probing further. Instead, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stepped out onto the balcony. It had grown dark, but a sea of lights illuminated the bustling city. On the other side of the hotel, his father was likely trying to regain entry or something similar.

Chapter Text

Luke had been pacing the entire suite like a cornered predator for the last half hour. Scott's hopes for a somewhat amicable resolution with his father dwindled with every passing second. There was something about Rafael or his behaviour that seemed to awaken his friend's ambition and, above all, his aversion.

Occasionally, the Brit had stopped by the minibar to douse himself with cola, orange juice, and anything else he could get his hands on. Scott had never seen him like this before, and he dared to claim that he knew Luke well enough to roughly gauge his reactions. Just moments ago, he had stood quietly by his side, held his hand, nestled against him, and now…

The Alpha didn't even try to soothe his friend. His intuition told him that such an endeavour was doomed to fail. Whatever it was, the situation seemed to be driving him completely out of his mind. Perhaps it was due to his father's intervention? That thought had crossed Scott's mind early on in Luke's strange behaviour. Could it really just be a feeling of dependence? Of helplessness?

When the long-awaited knock finally echoed through the room, Luke practically jumped up and yanked the door open. An extremely bewildered-looking, round-faced man in his mid-fifties, dressed in a smart pinstripe suit and carrying a briefcase under his arm, raised his eyebrows over the rim of his round gold-framed glasses.

"Are you the lawyer my father sent?" Luke asked without preamble.

"Well, if you're Mister Taylor's son, then I am. Ralph Miller is my name." The lawyer extended his hand, which his friend acknowledged only with a disgruntled glance before impatiently gesturing him inside.

Scott sighed internally and tried to appear a bit friendlier towards Mister Miller than the impatient, almost feral beast Luke had turned into. "Pleasure to meet you, Mister Miller, I'm Scott McCall."

A hint of relief flickered across the lawyer's face, and he too extended his hand, briefly introducing himself: "I represent Mister Taylor in relation to his branch in San Francisco. He asked me to handle a legal matter, or rather, to…"

"Yes, yes, we already know that," Luke interrupted, visibly annoyed. "You're my father's lawyer, and we need you to get that idiot downstairs with his FBI badge off our backs."

Scott shot an admonishing look at the Brit, which indeed made him flinch for a brief moment before he seemed to pull himself together and return to his angry facade. He motioned for Mister Miller to follow him with a sulky hand gesture, which he did, albeit with a slight frown. Scott followed the two into the dining room, where Luke flopped down into a chair. The werewolf took a seat next to his friend, while their guest sat down across from them.

"May I ask what this is specifically about?" Mister Miller inquired calmly, placing his briefcase on an empty chair beside him.

"Downstairs, in front of the hotel complex, my friend's father is causing a scene because he refuses to accept that his son wants nothing to do with him," Luke explained the situation irritably while reaching for one of the blood oranges from the fruit bowl in front of them to peel it.

"You mean the dark-haired man who's rampaging like a mad bull?" Mister Miller looked at both of them over the rim of his glasses. "And why would you not want to have contact with your father, if I may ask, Mister McCall?"

Before Scott could even say a word, his friend took the liberty of answering for him: "Because he's a worthless existence who I want you to take everything from him that he owns. Starting from his house, his job, to the bridge under which he wants to sleep."

"That's enough now, Luke." It was Scott who raised his voice, and in an exceedingly sharp manner. "We're talking about my father here, and you just assured me, not even half an hour ago, that you wouldn't do anything without my consent."

Indeed, it seemed that Luke was on the verge of completely losing his composure for a brief moment. His forehead was creased with furious lines, a vein in his neck throbbed dangerously, and his fingers were almost painfully clenched around the half-peeled blood orange. His gaze was filled with contempt, disgust, and hatred.

This explosive reaction surprised Scott, not because it was there, but rather because he too was beginning to feel that way. Luke's emotional turmoil seemed to be infecting him. There was an unparalleled anger that threatened to take hold of him. The rage spread through his limbs, compelling him to grapple with himself. He felt as if he were being overwhelmed by this emotion. It hadn’t been this bad since his first full moon.

“Then decide for yourself how far you want to go. But be assured that I will deal with him if he treats you like that one more time. No one treats my friend like that.” Luke's gaze wandered to Mister Miller, his hands gripping a half-squashed blood orange. “You’ve heard my friend; what Scott wants will be done, regardless of the consequences. Consider it an instruction from the highest authority.” With that, he stood up and left the dining room, taking his fruit with him.

Mister Miller let out a quiet breath and pushed his glasses back up with his index finger. He forced a smile and turned to Scott: “So, it's about your father, Mister McCall? Could you perhaps give me a brief overview of the situation and what exactly you would like from me?”

The werewolf paused, taken aback by his friend's behaviour. Luke had fled, and Scott knew exactly why: because otherwise he would have displayed similar domineering behaviour towards him, and he couldn't bring himself to do that. His intuition told him he was witnessing a very rare moment.

“I would actually be satisfied if you could help me make it clear to my father that I want nothing to do with him, at least for now.” With that, he focused his attention on Mister Miller and pushed his thoughts of Luke aside for the time being. He briefly and concisely explained the current situation to the lawyer, as well as what had happened in the past. Of course, he didn't exaggerate, as he didn't want to be responsible for his father losing his job or anything like that, but he was well aware that Rafael needed to be shown a boundary now. For the time being, as a “soft” warning.

Mister Miller listened attentively, taking notes on a notepad he had pulled from his briefcase. He nodded thoughtfully and asked some clarifying questions afterwards. “In light of the current situation, I would suggest that I write a few lines to your father, in your name, if that’s acceptable to you, Mister McCall, to draw his attention to the quite strained relationship between you and also to make him aware of the consequences that arise from it. Not only from a legal standpoint, but primarily from a moral one.”

“As long as Dad doesn’t face any consequences as severe as the threats Luke made earlier…”

“Don’t worry, I would only go that far in the utmost necessity.” The lawyer set his pen aside and smiled at Scott over the rim of his glasses: “It’s good that you’re being so reasonable and taking the whole situation calmly into account. A commendable trait.”

“Charging in like a bull in a china shop has never really been my style,” Scott murmured, rubbing the back of his neck.

“That usually achieves more anyway.” Mister Miller stood up, gathered his things, and extended his hand. “It was a pleasure, Mister McCall.”

Scott hesitated to take the offered hand. A thought crossed his mind. “If you act on my behalf, then I suppose I’ll have to cover the costs, right? I’m not sure we have that much money…”

“Mr. Taylor's father will cover any associated costs, so don’t worry about that. He informed me that I’m here at his son’s express wish and that I must adhere to his instructions, as long as they don’t contradict the principles of possibility.”

The werewolf bit his tongue. He didn’t want to be indebted to Luke’s father, but backing out now would send his friend into a rage. After a moment’s consideration, he took the hand and shook it: “Thank you. I hope you have a pleasant evening, and thank you for coming.”

“The pleasure was all mine, Mister McCall.” Mister Miller bid farewell and then left. As soon as he heard the door click shut, Scott darted outside, looking for Luke. He found him on the balcony, his back turned to him.

As soon as Scott slid the glass door aside, the Brit visibly flinched. However, he did not turn around. Instead, his posture tightened. He knew he was guilty; even without his supernatural senses, the Alpha would have noticed that.

Scott approached his friend almost tentatively. What should he say? How would Luke react? Would he get angry? Yell at him? Berate him? Storm off? Throw himself helplessly into his arms?

“I’m sorry,” Luke's voice came out quietly. The regret in his tone was sincere.

“Your emotional outburst?” Scott stepped beside him without directly looking at him. Instead, he tried to focus on the San Francisco skyline.

“Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize for everything. I know you have a fiery temperament, at least since your race with Jackson. But what I don’t understand is your intense reaction just now. You were calm a moment ago?” Out of the corner of his eye, Scott watched as Luke mechanically continued peeling the blood orange, even scraping off the white parts from the fruit.

“Because he treats you the same way my dad treated me.” The Brit stopped peeling and gnawed on his lower lip. “Like a stupid boy who doesn’t know where his place is. I blame myself for not intimidating him enough. Usually, it’s enough when I play the lawyer card.”

Scott sighed softly. “Luke, you don’t have to solve my problems for me, and I am firmly against intimidation. It might work in some situations, but it shouldn’t become a habit.” Cautiously, he moved his left hand over and placed it on Luke’s. “It’s okay, but you need to learn to accept a no from me and to trust me.”

His friend looked like a beaten dog as he glanced over at him. “Scott, I trust you more than anyone else, and I love you more than anyone else. That’s why I feel so obligated to you. It’s my job to clear your problems out of the way, not the other way around.”

“We already went over this earlier, didn’t we? No lone wolf acts in a relationship,” Scott replied patiently, pulling him into a tight embrace. Luke's racing heartbeat calmed almost instantly, and a smile crept onto the Alpha's face. What had happened with Allison could happen with Luke too.

Luke snuggled against his chest and buried his hands in his shirt. They stood there without saying a word. There was no need to. They each understood the other's point of view, at least to some extent, and their emotions settled with each passing second. After what felt like an eternity, they disentangled from each other, and Luke went back to peeling his blood orange.

“I can sleep at your place tonight, right?” He sounded uncertain.

“Of course,” Scott laughed. “What do you think?”

“Well, because we had a fight?”

“Yeah, but we made up too, didn’t we?” He gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Can I have a piece of your orange?”

“Sure.”

So they shared the fruit, leaning against each other until they fell into bed. Luke cuddled up to him, though far more hesitantly than the night before, and Scott wrapped an arm around his friend. After a short time, Luke’s steady breathing revealed that he had fallen asleep. The Alpha, however, stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. How emotionally stunted did Luke have to be if he believed a single fight would mean they couldn’t share a bed? From the way the Brit had spoken, there was fear—fear that they could separate.

“Fear brings control,” he thought to himself. A repulsive notion. Yet, there was some truth to it. Strangely, his thoughts drifted to Gerard and his ninja. They all feared that unknown something that lurked, striking from the darkness. That’s why it controlled them; fear dominated them. What might lie behind that mask? A faceless shadow? A distorted visage? A predator? Or something far worse?

Luke stirred slightly in his sleep, wrapping his arms more tightly around him. Absently, Scott brushed his shoulder. Things had become much more complicated with his friend, but also much better. If they worked a little more on themselves, especially Luke on himself, then things would fall into place with Stiles too—and that’s what the Alpha longed for: for his mate and his best friend to get along. That was all he wanted, and wasn’t that too much to ask?

Chapter Text

Scott slowly opened his eyes. It was dark in the room, but thanks to his werewolf senses, he could see fairly well even in this environment. Two things immediately struck him: the other side of the bed was empty and cold. There was no sign of Luke anywhere. Alarmed, the werewolf sprang up and jumped out of bed. A troubling thought crossed his mind.

He hurriedly moved to get outside. No light was on in the living room either. Scott focused and tried to pick up Luke's scent. Indeed, within the blink of an eye, he managed to identify a sort of trail leading to the terrace. The door to the outside was ajar, and he pushed it open.

To his relief, there stood his friend in his Green Lantern pyjamas, wearing his black sneakers with white stripes on the sides and his thrown-over college jacket. He had his back turned and his heartbeat was steady and calm.

"What are you doing out here?" Scott asked, closing the door behind him.

Luke turned around, removing his arms from the terrace railing. "Did I wake you?" He sounded guilty. "If so, I'm sorry."

"No, you didn't," the werewolf assured him, padding barefoot toward him. He was wearing a simple black T-shirt and short training shorts. When he reached him, he took Luke’s hands and looked at him intently. "I still want to know why you're out here at this hour. It's only three in the morning, after all."

"I couldn't sleep," the Brit mumbled.

"Why?" Scott asked automatically, already knowing the answer.

"Because I feel guilty. I almost ran you over, and that's not right," Luke confessed quietly. "Least of all to you." He rested his hands in Scott's and hesitated before turning them slightly and running his fingertips over the palms.

"But you didn't, did you?" The werewolf flinched at the sensation the warm, soft fingertips created on his skin. It was as if they belonged there, fitting perfectly into every tiny fold and grain.

"No, but I was close." Luke took a deep breath. "It's unfair, Scott. You know how little I want to lose you."

"Calm down," the Alpha smiled at his friend. "Nothing happened, after all, and arguing is part of a relationship."

"But it shouldn't be. A relationship should be harmonious, free from any mistrust, anger, or rage." Luke sounded pained but held Scott's gaze firmly. "You don’t deserve that."

"Shh, what are you talking about?" Scott released his right hand and lovingly placed it on Luke's cheek. "That's all part of it. Except for the mistrust. Don’t you trust me?"

"I do," Luke replied hastily, leaning into the touch.

"But?"

"Just because I trust you and love you like I do, I don't want to disappoint you. Don't you understand?" He looked down. "You know, when you care about someone as much as I care about you, it's infinitely harder not to let that person down."

"Ah, Luke," sighed Scott, struggling to resist the urge to pull Luke close and kiss him deeply. "This isn't a competition. You just need to be yourself, nothing more." He tenderly stroked Luke’s cheek with his thumb and smiled at him, his eyes filled with love. In moments like these, nothing reminded him of the savage beast that lay dormant within this vulnerable shell.

"And what if I'm not enough? Just like I wasn't enough for Adriel back then?" The Brit whispered, staring down. "What if you send me away too, over some foolishness? Because I'm too childish, too impatient, too weak?"

"What are you talking about?" Scott exclaimed, taken aback. This fear of not being good enough seemed to lie coiled within Luke like a spring. Was he really battling with himself out of fear? "I told you earlier that I love you because you are who you are. That’s more than enough for me." With gentle force, he lifted Luke's chin with a finger, compelling him to look up. "Have you already forgotten? We're a couple. I wouldn't want to be with you if you weren't enough for me."

Luke's eyes shimmered with unshed tears before he leaned back against the railing. "Scott, you have no idea what you're talking about."

With a quick step, the Alpha closed the distance between himself and his friend, wrapping him in an embrace while shaking his head vigorously. "I stick to my guns and will repeat it until you believe it, even if it takes all night."

Luke's lips trembled at the last words, and he leaned back in the hug, gradually sitting on the ledge so that Scott could follow. "How come you haven't been swarmed by girls and guys? I mean, now I understand why…"

"Oh really?" Scott considered for a moment, then detached himself from Luke and perched next to him on the railing. "Because of you?"

"A bit? They say I could embody a tiger quite well, not just on the football field," the Brit grinned at him.

"You do, remarkably well even," confirmed the werewolf with a nod.

"Well, still…" Luke scratched the back of his neck. "I mean, you have something about you. That certain something."

"Flattery won't improve anything, you know that, right?" Scott chuckled. "I know exactly that you want to distract me from making you understand how important you are to me."

"Okay, stop it already." Luke laughed half-heartedly, revealing quite openly his braces which sparkled slightly in the moonlight. "I mean, you're completely different from Adriel, and yet… no, you aren't similar at all." He corrected himself, shaking his head. "You're gentle, sensitive, empathetic, loving, and yet able to take charge at the right moment, or else you wouldn't have become the captain of the lacrosse team. He, on the other hand…"

"Hm?" Scott inquired curiously. "Who is this Adriel anyway?"

"Adriel was… let's just say he taught me something," Luke sidestepped.

"A kind of teacher? Was he your coach?" Scott noted how his friend fidgeted, wedging his sneakers into the ornate pattern of the railing and shifting restlessly.

"Something like that, yes," the Brit confirmed, his heartbeat quickening for a brief moment. "Adriel was older than us, or still is. Tall, muscular, and more stubborn than a mule. I thought he was cool."

"Stubborn like you?" Scott joked, trying to lighten the mood and, above all, to coax Luke out of his shell a bit.

"Yeah, maybe," his friend smirked. "He was just like me and gave me the cold shoulder. I probably found that impressive: Adriel was aloof. No gifts, no grand promises, not even my own effort and dedication could make him consider doing anything with me."

Scott narrowed his eyes slightly. "How much older than us is he?"

"About eight to ten years? I'm not sure." Luke shrugged.

"And how old were you?"

"Fifteen, sixteen. I know: the age difference was too big, but at that moment, I really couldn’t care less. Especially since my dad would have probably lit into him so severely that you could have made a bus parking lot out of it." Luke began tapping the heels of his sneakers rhythmically against the railing's support beams. "He was so far ahead of me. A true fighter, not willing to conform to any rules or conventions. After class, he would leave without even acknowledging me with a glance."

"Stockholm syndrome," a thought crossed Scott’s mind, sounding a lot like Stiles.

"But I really tried hard. I put away my mangas, focused even more on sports, trained like crazy—that was the phase of my life when I managed without any merchandise."

“Why? You love your merchandise,” Scott said, tilting his head.

“Well, he thought it was childish. I’ve thought about putting my stuff away again, especially because you….” Luke bit his tongue.

“I don't think it's childish, okay? It’s part of who you are, and Stiles likes wearing Avengers stuff too,” the werewolf clarified.

“That makes it better,” Luke rolled his eyes, but continued under Scott’s raised eyebrows, “I even bought him a car.”

“You what?” Scott was taken aback. This had to be a joke, but knowing his friend, it probably wasn’t.

“No,” Luke confirmed.

“He didn’t accept the car, did he?”

“Yes, he did.” The Brit nodded emphatically. “Without batting an eye.”

“This Adriel sounds like quite a jerk,” the Alpha remarked flatly.

“He was perfect,” Luke gushed. Then his gaze fell on Scott, and he looked down shyly. “Perfect, until I met you.” He immediately took Scott’s hand and squeezed it. “You know that.”

“I do,” Scott said, moving closer to Luke and gently pulling him towards him. “It’s still nice to hear,” he grinned playfully.

“Jerk,” Luke replied, returning the grin and leaning against him. “Scott? Can I ask you something?”

“Hmm?” The werewolf buried his nose in Luke’s hair, which smelled of lemon, mixing with Luke’s own scent.

“I know this sounds totally wrong, but can you tell me something about Allison?”

“Allison? Why?” Scott pulled his nose away from Luke’s hair, giving him a questioning and curious look.

“Because Grandpa didn’t tell me much about her. Just that she’s my cousin, and I don’t really know her. Well, and I know you were together.”

All of Scott’s alarm bells went off. He had expected Luke to have a hard and jealous expression, but instead, he looked just as curious.

“And that doesn’t bother you?” he asked at first.

“That you were with Allison before me?”

“Yes? I actually thought you’d feel some sort of jealousy or worse when you found out.”

“How do you know that I don’t?” he wanted to know, amused.

“Because…” Luke’s heartbeat was steady and strong. He wasn’t upset; on the contrary, he seemed to be calming down somehow. “I just feel that way.”

“Female intuition, huh?” the Brit teased.

“Don’t be so cheeky.” Scott almost reached out to tickle Luke as a sort of punishment, but considering they were perched on the railing, he thought better of it. Something told him that his friend wasn’t interested in this because of his grandfather or to spy for potential information, as a quiet voice reminiscent of Stiles suggested.

“That’s my specialty,” his companion quipped back.

"Seems so." Scott pondered for a moment. What should he tell him about Allison? "I met Allison when her family moved to Beacon Hills. We hit it off right away, and that was around the time I discovered my athletic peak."

That wasn’t even a lie, not really. It was exactly when Peter had bitten him, and he had become the star player of the school. But that wasn’t the deciding factor for why Allison had chosen him, despite all the obstacles and difficulties. Their relationship had weathered many storms.

“So before that, you were a total loser?” Luke laughed, tracing his finger along Scott's defined chest muscles, which were evident beneath his T-shirt. “Really?”

“Didn’t Lydia tell you anything?” Scott flinched at the touch, feeling the familiar warmth of attraction wash over him once more.

“Not really, but I didn’t ask either. Lydia and I usually talk about other things.”

“Oh? Like what?”

“You really don’t want to know,” his friend dismissed playfully. “Trust me.”

“How do I understand that?”

“Where I buy my clothes, when we’re going shopping next, which restaurants are good, costume stuff, all about Aiden.”

“You talk about Aiden?” Scott tried to concentrate, though Luke's finger was continuing its distracting dance on his chest, sending pleasant shivers across his skin.

“Of course. Aiden is her soulmate after all, and I'm curious about what it's like to have one. If he really is that perfect for her, if there's something about him that bothers her, stuff like that.” Luke shrugged slightly, his gaze following his finger along Scott’s torso. “Lydia is my best friend, and after you, I trust her the most in this nest we’ve moved into. Grandpa obviously excluded.”

A shadow passed over Scott’s face at the mention of Gerard. He hurriedly forced a smile and nodded understandingly. “That makes sense, but what does that have to do with Allison?”

“I… Scott, this is kind of the wrong time to talk to you about this.” Luke’s ears turned a soft pink, just like his cheeks. “It was a stupid idea; forget it, okay?”

The werewolf took hold of his friend’s finger and held it firmly. “You said you trust me, so spill it.”

“I… um.” Luke bit his lower lip. “Can you ask if she would like to grab a bite with us? She can bring Isaac too, of course.”

Scott had a feeling that this wasn’t the real reason for Luke’s embarrassment, but he brushed the thought aside for the moment. “Why don’t you ask her yourself?”

“Because you know her better, and I don’t want to go with Lydia. Otherwise, I would have bribed her. Do me this favour, okay? I promise we’ll sit normally at the restaurant, like normal teenagers.”

“And what if we want fast food?” Scott chuckled.

“I hope they at least serve steak or scones,” Luke replied, looking pained. “But I’ll accept fast food, a movie with regular popcorn, anything. Just make sure you ask her and come with us.”

“Alright,” Scott nodded.

“Great.” Luke then pulled away his finger and hopped off the railing, stretching and yawning. “But now I’m going to try to get back to sleep. Preferably on my damn good-looking boyfriend.”

“Oh really?” Scott mirrored his actions and followed him inside, where Luke slipped off his sneakers and shrugged off his jacket.

“Mh.” As soon as that was done, he grasped Scott’s hand and tugged him playfully toward the bed. “You’re surprisingly warm; I have no idea how you manage that. It must be the worst in summer, but right now, it’s incredibly comfortable to sleep on you.”

“Wow, the way you highlight my perks,” Scott joked as he lay down, and Luke immediately cuddled up to him.

“Don’t get too used to it.” He planted a kiss on Scott’s cheek before promptly using him as a pillow, and shortly thereafter, he drifted off to dreamland—though not before Scott made sure Luke was asleep.

Chapter Text

Scott was awakened by the clatter of dishes. Sleepily rubbing his eyes, he noticed that, contrary to his expectations, he was not hindered by his friend lying on top of him. Instead, the right side of the bed was empty. Rather than jumping up impulsively to see where the Brit might be, he allowed himself a long yawn and stretched out while lying down.

His laziness was rewarded just at that moment when the ajar door was quietly opened, and Luke stealthily entered the room, a broad smile on his lips. He beamed at Scott, who returned the smile. His friend was still wearing his pyjamas.

“Good morning,” Luke purred as he sat on the edge of the bed. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a log,” Scott nodded. He had actually slept remarkably well and peacefully, better than he had in a long time.

“I noticed,” came the giggling reply. “You didn’t even wake up when I got up.”

“You probably crept out on tiptoe,” the werewolf guessed, looking up at his friend. There was no trace of the rage-stricken face from the day before, nor any guilt or regret, nothing. Instead, Luke just smiled at him mischievously.

“But you didn’t even notice room service.”

“Really?” Scott blinked in surprise. That was indeed unusual. Because of his acute hearing, he sometimes found it hard to sleep soundly, as he could hear almost everything and everyone: a stray dog outside the door, the birds nesting in the house opposite, even when the asphalt was being repaired, which wasn’t even directly on their street…

“No, but I did ask them to be quiet because my friend is still sleeping.” Luke stood up and tousled Scott’s messy hair. “Are you coming for breakfast? I’m absolutely starving.”

“Sure.” Scott enjoyed Luke's fingers gently running through his hair, but then pulled himself together, shaking his head slightly and getting up. He yawned again and scratched his chest before he padded into the dining room, where the table was already overflowing with food: various types of fruit, including apples, pears, kiwis, and bananas were arranged in several bowls, along with a rich selection of cereals in different flavours, perfectly toasted slices of bread, butter, peanut butter, various spreads, honey, eggs, tea, juice, and milk, and everything else one could wish for. Yesterday, breakfast had been far less extravagant.

“That’s just way too much,” Scott protested, but was promptly pushed onto a chair by his friend, who then plopped down next to him and poured a massive serving of oats into his bowl, combining them with blueberries and raspberries and topping it all off with milk.

“You’re supposed to eat, not complain.” Luke shot Scott an amused glance before beginning to eat. Sighing, the Alpha resigned himself to his fate and started spreading a piece of toast (which was still warm) with butter and strawberry jam.

“What do you have planned for today?” he asked while pouring himself a coffee and grabbing an egg.

“Not really much. We’ll pick up our costumes and then head back. I need to deal with potential selection for the football team today. Plus, I really don’t want to stay in San Francisco longer than necessary. Yesterday was enough for me.” Luke sipped from his cup, which smelled wonderful of black tea with lemon.

“You mean because of my dad?” Scott shifted uncomfortably in his chair. It was still a mystery to him how Rafael had found them.

“Yeah.” His friend poked around in his cereal for a moment, hesitating, his brow furrowing, before he put down his spoon and cleared his throat. “I’ve been contacted by our lawyer, who apparently had another word with your dad: For now, he’s keeping his distance from you and your mother. He might be looking into a restraining order, should it be necessary. But for the moment, he doesn’t think it’s needed.”

“That sounds promising, at least?” Scott polished off his toast before preparing a second one, this time with peanut butter and honey. “But you don’t sound too happy about it.”

“I’m not. Honestly, I was hoping for something a bit more solid and tangible.” Luke made a dismissive sound before returning to his breakfast.

“But Luke, that’s a good solution, isn’t it? I mean, you don’t just get a restraining order for nothing. I remember when Jackson got one against Stiles and me—we had really done something before it got to that point.”

“You obviously didn’t make his face any prettier…” his friend dryly commented on his remarks.

“How would you know that?” Scott grinned, turning his attention back to the egg after the second piece of toast.

“Just look at him. He has nice cheekbones, that’s true, but other than that…” Luke shrugged. “Next to you, everyone looks like second-rate merchandise…”

“Oh, really?” The Alpha opened his soft-boiled egg and glanced over at his friend: “So I’m the first choice?”

“Of course. What do you think?” His friend refilled his bowl with berries as he continued, “Everything I’ve seen so far has been top class. If you’d been at my school, it would have been perfect.”

“Why?”

“Because then I wouldn’t have had to wait so long for you.” Luke paused, mashing the berries with his spoon. “You know, I’ve always wished for a friend like you: caring, gentle, good-looking, and understanding. You’re athletic and you even have a status at your school. What more could I wish for from a friend?” His fingers tightened around the handle of the spoon. “What happened yesterday hurt me,” he admitted quietly.

“With my dad?” Scott observed Luke closely and then placed a hand on his knee, gently stroking it for reassurance.

“With mine,” his friend corrected him and relaxed his grip a little in response to the comforting touch.

“What? He sounded quite nice to me.”

“Because you don’t really know Dad yet. I hate it when it’s all about whether my girlfriend or boyfriend comes from a good family just to fit perfectly into his life. If I’d forced Lisa to have a child, he would have gone completely crazy.” Luke made a disgusted face. “It’s my business who I’m with and who I’m not.”

“It is,” Scott agreed soothingly. “But you haven’t had a girlfriend or boyfriend yet, and your dad just wants what’s best for you.”

“If he wanted what was best for me, he wouldn’t have kept Mom and me apart,” Luke growled through gritted teeth. “He wouldn’t have resisted Grandpa meeting me. Since I can remember, he’s been controlling my life and everything that happens in it.”

“He was just trying to look out for you,” Scott began, but was promptly interrupted.

“How can he want what’s best for me if he’s taken away the one parent that might have actually loved me? That would have been happy for me? Hm?” Luke bit his lip and straightened up a bit. “You just don’t know my dad, Scott, and you have a remarkable talent for wanting to see only the good in someone. If I were you, I would have given Jackson new teeth a long time ago or gotten rid of that unbearable gym teacher.”

“Luke…” The Alpha placed his hand over his friend’s. “Parents make mistakes too; after all, they’re only human. My mom certainly isn’t perfect, just as Stiles’ dad or your father isn’t, but I’m sure they all love us because we’re their children and would be ready to go through hell for us.”

“How can you be so sure? I’ve met your mom, seen how she treats you, sits down with you at the kitchen table, even makes your breakfast. My dad is usually only capable of asking me about my grades or giving me lectures about how I can’t take over his damn company like this.” Luke’s nostrils flared, but he quickly calmed down as he turned his hand under Scott’s so they could intertwine their fingers. “When I see what you have and what I have, I doubt Dad really loves me.”

“He does,” Scott replied firmly.

“How do you know that?” The Brit repeated his question. “Where does that conviction come from?”

“Just trust me,” Scott insisted and then kissed Luke on the cheek. “I have a sort of sixth sense for this kind of thing.”

Luke mumbled something quietly and then began to eat his cereal, visibly calmer. The rest of the breakfast passed quite uneventfully, as did the checkout and costume pickup. Luke had insisted that Scott go to the car first and wait there while he took care of the billing for their weekend and the costumes. Unfortunately, all three were hidden in an opaque protective cover, so the werewolf couldn’t catch a glimpse of the other costumes.

The drive home was relatively uneventful. They talked about school, a bit about the upcoming selection process (with Luke appearing to have exact ideas about how it should go), and also that he would possibly check out the lacrosse practice once. They didn’t touch on their fathers any further, and somehow, they were both glad about that.

When they parked in front of Scott’s driveway, Luke leaned over to him and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll keep the costumes safe until then.”

“Why? Can’t I have mine now?” Scott tilted his head questioningly.

“No way. Besides, you won’t be fully dressed until you’ve had your makeup done.” The Brit gently nudged him with the tip of his nose against his own. “It was a beautiful weekend despite everything, you know that?”

“It was,” Scott confirmed and stole another kiss. “I could definitely get used to this.”

“Don’t say that too loud, or I’ll come up with something for next weekend,” Luke replied with a mischievous grin.

“But not too often,” the Alpha countered, grinning back. He grabbed his things and climbed out. “See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow, Scott. I love you!” Luke confirmed.

“I love you too, Luke.”

With a loving smile, Scott closed the door of the Mercedes and watched as Luke drove off until the car left the street. It had really been a lovely weekend, despite the incidents and events. Now, the costume ball could come.

Chapter Text

Scott hadn’t told his mother anything about his encounter with his father. He didn’t want to upset Melissa any more than she already was. Shortly after the ninja attack, they had both sat at the kitchen table discussing it. The experiences his mother had endured as Gerard's hostage, watched over by Jackson, were still too painfully etched in her memory.

Instead, he opted for a half-truth: the outing had been nice, they had picked up costumes, and he was looking forward to the ball. That was true, for the most part. What was omitted could hardly be classified as a lie. Stiles and he had exchanged messages: no incidents during their absence. That was both good and bad, as it would only reinforce his best friend’s belief that Luke had something to do with the attacks.

Luke had picked him up for school right on time and seemed hardly affected by the events of the past few days. He was completely normal, like always. They chatted about the upcoming school week, about how Luke wanted to talk to the coach about the selection game and how Scott could integrate into the team without neglecting his obligations to lacrosse.

“Scott?”, he asked, tapping nervously on the steering wheel—a sign that he was unsure.

“Hmm?” The werewolf looked over at his friend, who was pushing his sunglasses up with his finger.

“Listen, about Allison…,” he started.

“I’m going to ask her today if she and Isaac want to hang out with us,” Scott interjected, only to be interrupted by a head shake.

“That’s nice, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what?” the Alpha asked.

“Do you think I can just ask Isaac today if he might like to be my goalkeeper?”

“You want Isaac as the goalkeeper?” Scott was slightly taken aback. He had expected they would be discussing Allison, not her friend. Just the weekend before, it seemed very important to his friend to connect with his cousin, and now this…

“Yes,” Luke confirmed, nodding. “He’s tall and moves quickly, just a bit too hesitant. You and Aiden are totally different. I can pass to you, and I know you’ll handle it easily. Aiden is also an ideal attack type, but Isaac…” He seemed to be searching for the right words. “I don’t see him as someone who’s particularly eager to force his way through.”

“Hmm, occasionally yes, but you’re right,” Scott agreed. “But how do you figure that?”

“Intuition?” Luke shrugged. “He just seems quieter and more withdrawn than Aiden. He seems to be yearning for leadership or something. I noticed it the first time we played together. He was immediately willing to be the goalkeeper. During the ensuing discussion, he also kept himself out of it.”

“Maybe Isaac just isn’t quarrelsome?” Scott suggested.

“No, that’s not it.” Luke shook his head. “He lacks that spark in his eyes that I can occasionally see in you. That glimmer that reminds me of why you’re the captain of the lacrosse team. Aiden’s is stunted, but it’s still somewhat there.”

Scott's neck hairs stood on end. He didn’t like that analysis at all. Was Luke hinting at something? Their eyes all shone, and Aiden had once truly been a leader, an Alpha. Isaac, on the other hand… “How do you figure that?”

“Scott,” Luke chuckled softly, “I was the captain of my old school team and will likely soon be playing for one of the most prestigious football clubs in the world: It’s my job to pay attention and make assessments. Sure, the board or someone else makes the decision on who gets bought or who joins the team, the coach determines the positions, but the captain is still the one who should know his team best in the end.”

“So that’s how it is,” the Alpha murmured, rubbing his right shoulder. He couldn’t shake the feeling that Luke was trying to say something to him, but wasn’t quite getting it out. He had no idea what role a football captain fulfilled; he only knew what he was and did and the responsibilities that came with it—not only in regard to the sport.

“So can I ask him?” his friend pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Uh, what? Yeah, sure,” Scott replied hastily, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that was threatening to spread through his limbs.

“What’s bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he lied, glancing quickly out of the window. It was alarming how accurate Luke's observations were. Either that, or he was lying to him and knew far more than he wanted to admit. But Scott would have sensed that, too; his friend's heartbeat had remained steady and calm the entire time.

For the rest of the journey to school, they chatted about trivial matters, and the Alpha calmed down enough to smile as he watched Luke navigate around Jackson's parking lot, targeting a spot further away instead. They passed by Allison and Isaac, who were strolling together towards the high school.

“Then I’ll ask him right away,” the Brit said, taking off his sunglasses to drape them on the dashboard of his car. “And you, Allison, if we can do something together, yeah?” He sounded noticeably more uncertain and, above all, pleading than before.

“Of course.”

They got out together, and Luke immediately reached for Scott's hand, intertwining it with his own while locking the car with the other. He awkwardly slung his backpack over his shoulder and then beamed at him.

“Feeling proud?” Scott smirked slightly, a bit embarrassed, as he noticed the look on his friend’s face.

“Of course. I'm going out with the hottest guy in school who is also the sweetest boyfriend one could wish for!”

The Alpha said nothing in response but kissed Luke on the cheek, causing him to smile broadly before they made their way into the school.

Inside, it took less than two minutes for the Brit to, visibly reluctantly, pull away from him and head straight for Isaac, who had his locker quite a distance from Allison’s. She was busy rummaging through her things for the first class when she noticed Scott, who was watching Luke with an amused expression. His enthusiasm and eagerness seemed to somewhat overshadow his uncertainties.

“You’re in a good mood,” she remarked, smiling at him. “I haven’t seen you like this in a long time.”

“Hmm? Oh yeah,” Scott mumbled, caught off guard, running a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I wonder how someone can be this way.”

“What do you mean exactly?” Allison followed his gaze, and together they watched as Luke animatedly gestured towards Isaac, clapping his hands and curling his fingers inward as if trying to catch something. Scott understood what was going on: His friend was trying to convince Isaac that he would make the ideal goalkeeper.

“In a way, he reminds me a bit of Stiles,” the Alpha said, lost in thought.

“Because of his exuberant and hyper nature?” She grinned at him. “You might be right. What are they even talking about?”

You could see Isaac hesitating: he was just coming to the sobering realization that he didn’t have enough money to buy a complete goalkeeper kit after Luke had made it clear that they certainly wouldn’t be training with loaned gear from the school.

“Luke is trying to recruit Isaac as the goalkeeper,” Scott explained casually.

“Is it going well?” Allison asked him.

“Looks like it.” Isaac's resistance seemed to be crumbling as Luke assured him that he would cover all costs and even take care of compensation should it be necessary.

“You're really smitten, huh?” she chuckled.

“You could say that,” the Alpha agreed. “Oh, by the way, Allison…” Scott watched as Luke almost threw his arms around Isaac when the bigger boy mentioned that, under these circumstances, he would, of course, be willing to train regularly and would also be happy to take a spin with him in his Mercedes.

“Yes?” She looked at him questioningly.

“Listen, Luke asked me to ask you, or rather both of you, if you’d like to hang out with us.” He tore his gaze away from the heartwarming scene, in which Isaac was clearly overwhelmed, and focused his attention back on his girlfriend. “Completely casually.”

“Why doesn’t he ask me himself?” she raised a questioning eyebrow. “He regularly invites Lydia for dinner and on shopping trips.”

“Well, um… I think he doesn't dare to ask you directly. He wants me to be there too,” the werewolf admitted.

“Mh.” Allison thought for a moment. “What do you think is driving him?”

“Nothing. I think he just wants to get to know you; that’s it. You’re the only piece of family he has left.”

“Besides Gerard,” she pointed out morosely.

“And your father,” Scott corrected her. “If I felt uneasy about this, I wouldn’t even be asking you. He’s just nervous because this is something he can’t control, something he doesn’t have a grip on. I’ve gotten to know him fairly well by now, and I’m sure he likes you.”

“You sound almost like you did back then.” She tilted her head, seeming to ponder. “What do you have in mind, anyway?”

“I… have no idea? Cinema? Going out to eat? Do you have anything in mind?”

“How about ice skating?” she suggested, grinning mischievously.

“Oh, Allison, I’ll just fall flat on my face, and you know that,” Scott groaned. “That’s mean.”

“I know, that’s just how I am,” she giggled gleefully. “So? Friday at eight at the ice rink? You and Luke, Isaac and me?”

“Sounds good,” the Alpha sighed. “But don’t you dare laugh.”

“I won’t, I promise!” She closed her locker, slung her backpack over her shoulder, and gave him an adorable smile. “See you later.”

“See you later.” He didn’t get to say more, as Isaac and Scott exchanged partners in quick succession. Luke greeted Allison briefly, appearing a bit shy, before rushing over to him and throwing his arms around his neck. “He’s in!”

“Glad to hear it,” Scott smiled genuinely. “Can you skate?”

“Are you joking? Of course! What makes you think otherwise?”

Scott sighed internally once again. He knew he was going to embarrass himself terribly. He already felt it in his bones.

Chapter Text

Of course Luke had to know how to ice skate. And of course, according to him, he had to be exceptionally good at it, since it was great practice for cross-country skiing. Naturally, Scott was going to embarrass himself in front of him. Why did that bother him so much? Scott wasn’t entirely sure himself. Maybe because he didn’t want to make a fool of himself in front of his friend? Or maybe it was because the thought of making a fool of himself in front of Allison still stung, even though they weren’t even together anymore.

With mixed feelings, he had ridden with Luke in the passenger seat on the way to the rink. Luke seemed much more relaxed than he was, although it was clear he was nervous too: he was about to properly meet his cousin for the first time, or so he hoped. The selection match had been postponed by a week, but the Brit hadn’t seemed too bothered. Quite the opposite, actually. He had told Scott in confidence that his team had already formed in his mind, and the match was merely a formality.

They got out after Luke parked the Mercedes in front of the rink, and he swung his skates over his shoulder, which, of course, had to feature another anime design: an angry Broly from Dragon Ball, in his legendary Super Saiyan form, as Luke had explained. He had wrapped the laces casually around his index and middle fingers, using his free hand to grab Scott’s, wanting to hold hands as they walked. It coaxed a small, shy smile out of the werewolf, though his knees felt a little weak, and he wasn’t sure if it was the familiar gesture, which seemed so natural to Luke, or the fact that the last time he had been here, it was with Allison, back when they were still together.

Isaac had managed to get them the keys to the rink. He and Boyd got along well, and since the blond often visited his pack mate anyway, it had been easy enough to get the keys off him. Erica and Boyd were recovering well enough that they’d be back at school next week, which was good news. The mental scars left from their torture had run far deeper than anyone had realised, and it had taken a long time to bring them back to something like reality. Erica had been the harder case, but Derek, Stiles, and Deaton had done everything they could, and now it seemed like the horrific memories could be buried enough to allow them to return to something resembling a normal life—at least as normal as it could be for a werewolf.

Inside, Scott’s breath caught for a moment at the sight before him: Allison and Isaac were already on the ice, holding onto each other. It wasn’t inappropriate, but it was intimate and familiar. It hit him like a sharp jab to the chest. They had once been that happy together too. Of course he was happy for them, that wasn’t the question, but deep down, he knew he would never truly forget his first great love.

“What’s wrong?” Luke’s soft question pulled him out of his thoughts. Clearly, he had noticed Scott was preoccupied.

“It’s nothing, it’s just…” He searched for the right words. Confronting his friend with how he felt was the last thing he wanted, yet part of him wanted to open up to him too. “It’s not important.”

Luckily, he didn’t have to give Luke an answer, as Isaac and Allison had noticed them and were skating over. A smile played across Allison’s face, and Isaac seemed genuinely happy to see them.

“There you are,” Isaac nodded as he stepped off the ice to offer Luke his hand.

“Hey,” Luke beamed, returning the handshake. “Good balance.”

“Hmm?” Isaac’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“On the ice. You and Allison.” Luke’s gaze flicked over to his cousin, and he cleared his throat quietly. “Nice to see you too, Allison.” This time, it was his hand that reached out, and after a moment’s hesitation, Allison took it and shook it.

“You too, Luke.” The words came slowly and a little awkwardly. She clearly had her reservations about her cousin, and the brief shadow that passed over Luke’s face, along with the hurt look in his eyes, said it all. But he quickly recovered and gave her a friendly smile. “Seems I’m not the only sporty one in the family.”

“Oh yeah?” Allison raised an eyebrow before shrugging.

Isaac shot her a mildly confused look, which she either didn’t see or chose to ignore. An awkward tension hung in the air, and Isaac tried to break it with a forced grin as he asked Scott whether he’d improved his skating by now.

“Bite me,” Scott grumbled half-seriously, letting out a sigh, which earned him a smirk in return.

“So that’s a no then.”

“Wait… you can’t skate?” Luke turned away from Allison to look at him. “You’re joking, right?”

“No,” the Alpha ground out, clenching his jaw. “I still can’t manage it. Last time…”

“It’s fine,” Luke cut him off. “Then we can practise together. I’ve always wanted to teach someone, and not just because I had to.” With that, he was already dragging Scott past a now visibly amused Allison and Isaac, guiding him over to a bench to change out of his trainers.

“You’re just going to laugh at me.” Why did Scott even think that?

“I won’t, now come on.”

Reluctantly, the Alpha grabbed a pair of skates and pulled them on. He hated feeling unsure of himself, and more than anything, he was scared he’d break something, only for it to heal instantly, which would only make Luke suspicious.

Luke was up as soon as his laces were tied, heading out onto the ice with Isaac close behind. His friend hadn’t lied: with playful ease, Luke kept up with the werewolf, laughing as Isaac asked the same question Scott had earlier about the design on his skates.

Allison sat down beside Scott, and together they watched their friends. After the third lap, Luke cast a longing glance in Scott’s direction but let himself get distracted by Isaac, who challenged him to a rather childish game of tag.

“Are you angry with me?” Allison asked, just as Luke narrowly dodged Isaac’s outstretched hand for the second time.

“Why would I be?” Scott shot her a questioning look. She looked down, somehow uncertain; as uncertain as he felt right now.

“Because I’m struggling to give him a chance.”

“I get it. Though I wish it were different,” the Alpha admitted. “Luke’s a good person, despite…” Despite his closeness to his grandfather, whom he loved deeply. Scott left the last part unsaid.

“You trust him, don’t you?” Allison patted the fingers of his hand, which were clenched together on his lap.

“I love him—what did you expect?” The touch was comforting, but it also hurt, reminding him of what was gone. A past that wouldn’t return.

“Scott, if you trust him, maybe I should try too.” She paused as Isaac let out a triumphant yell, which quickly turned into a groan as he realised he was now the one being chased, with Luke giving him absolutely no chance to catch his breath. “It’s hard to believe, watching him like this, that he was about to go for Jackson’s throat.”

“You’re right,” the Alpha agreed. “Seems like Isaac and him have already become friends, huh?”

“Looks that way.” It was hard to tell if she was bothered by that or not. After a moment of silence, she sighed, brushing a stray hair from her face. “It’s just hard to imagine that despite how close he is to Gerard…”

“Allison, give him a chance,” Scott asked softly. “If I can trust him, why can’t you?”

“I know, it’s just…”

“Hey, you slowpokes!” Luke’s shout made them both look up. The Brit came sliding to a stop at the entrance to the rink, ducking neatly under Isaac’s outstretched arm. “Hold on, Isaac, break time.” He exhaled loudly, pulse racing, but he was smiling. “I’m going to steal my boyfriend onto the ice now. That’s what we’re here for, right?” Isaac just grinned widely.

Before Scott could even react, Luke was pulling him onto the ice, and he held his breath internally. It took less than five seconds before he was losing his balance, but before he could hit the ice, two arms were already there to catch and steady him.

“Hey, don’t be so tense.” Luke’s voice was soft, gentle. “Relax. I won’t let you fall.” With a graceful half-turn, he was facing Scott, taking the Alpha’s hands in his own. “Nice and slow.”

“This didn’t work last time either,” Scott grumbled.

“Yeah, but you weren’t here with me last time, were you?” His friend pulled a face before starting to move, guiding him gently without looking back. “Just look into my eyes. Forget about everything else. Focus on me and only me.”

Scott was on the verge of snapping back, but instead, he forced himself to take a deep breath and follow Luke’s instructions. Instantly, he found himself getting lost in those grey-green eyes he had seen so many times before. The stiffness, the resistance in his body, it all began to ease, and he straightened up a little.

“That’s it,” Luke beamed at him. “Now, one foot in front of the other. Slowly, and don’t worry: I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

It felt silly, being treated like a child, but there was something about Luke that made him want to comply. Hesitantly, Scott did as he was told, readying himself for a fall, but just as he began to wobble, Luke stepped closer, steadying him again.

“You’re still way too tense, Scott.” Luke squeezed his hands. “Again: I won’t let you fall. Trust me.”

“Trust me.” Those words echoed in Scott’s head. Trust. He trusted Luke because he loved him. He loved him so much that he was willing to trust him, even trust him with his life. It hit him in that moment. There was nothing in Luke’s gaze that hinted at ill intentions, anger, or deceit. There was only warmth and affection, something Scott had missed so much since Allison had gone.

Obediently, he took a careful step, then another. At first hesitant, but slowly, a rhythm formed as Luke kept his gaze locked on his, and Scott returned it. They moved slowly, steadily, across the smooth ice.

“See?” Luke’s smile was bright. “It’s easy.” He started to let go of Scott’s hands, but Scott quickly grabbed them again, holding on tightly.

“Don’t…” The word slipped out before Scott could stop it, and he bit his lip. He didn’t want Luke to let go. Not now. The feelings washing over him were too beautiful: warmth, affection, tenderness, love. For a moment, he felt like any normal teenager—head over heels in love.

“Scaredy-cat,” Luke teased, only to step closer and rest his arms around Scott’s neck, and Scott did the same around his waist. “So this is what it looks like when you’re scared?”

“I’m not scared,” Scott protested, but the words were swallowed by a deep, tender kiss. Everything else faded away: the fact that they were skating, that they were sliding around, that Allison and Isaac were probably watching, that he still hadn’t fully let go of Allison… In that moment, there was only the two of them, Luke and him, the softness of Luke’s lips, the lemony scent of him, the way his body fit against his. Scott’s eyes slowly closed as he let himself relax completely.

A tingling warmth settled in his chest, nestling there and flooding him with comfort. The memories of the past were washed over by the memories being made now. A knot inside him began to loosen. Slowly, the tangle in his heart that he had buried for so long began to unwind, and with every second that passed, he felt freer. Free from the burdens he carried as an Alpha, as a werewolf, as a teenager without a mate…

Only when Luke’s lips finally left his did Scott slowly open his eyes to see his friend’s flushed face. Luke’s cheeks were glowing as he cleared his throat softly. “You… that kiss was different.”

“I know,” the Alpha replied just as softly, nudging Luke’s nose with his own. “Did you like it?”

“Mm,” Luke hummed with a nod, clearing his throat again. “I always thought my braces would ruin a kiss like that.”

“They don’t; they don’t get in the way at all,” Scott answered quickly.

“Why do I believe you?” Luke chuckled before slowly pulling away.

“Hey! Don’t go,” Scott protested.

“Just for a bit, okay? I want to talk to Allison.” With that, he turned and skated off.

Scott watched him go, only to have Isaac join him, observing him with a small, knowing smirk. “You’ve really got it bad, huh?”

“Hard to miss, huh?” Scott looked up at his taller friend. “Why don’t you have a problem with him?”

“Because I believe he must be a good person if you love him.” Isaac gave his shoulder a gentle pat. “And he must be if he can turn you into a halfway decent skater in no time.”

Scott blinked, realising for the first time that he was skating alone. He was moving one foot in front of the other, keeping up with Isaac, and a smile spread across his face. It was strange, almost magical, but also pretty cool. Finally, he wouldn’t have to keep avoiding the rink, getting teased by Stiles and the others for refusing to step back on the ice.

“And that’s enough for you?”

“That’s enough for me.”

They both watched as Luke skated alongside Allison, talking with her. The conversation was still a little stiff, but much less so than at the start. Luke was asking about her hobbies, what she liked to eat, how her father was. Allison answered stiffly at first, but then a smile appeared on her face as Luke simply took her hands and pulled her along. Instead of forcing small talk, Luke did what he did best, which, in this case, was ice skating.

Scott looked up at Isaac, who just shrugged. “Either your boyfriend has magic hands, or he reminds Allison of you.”

“Me?” Scott tilted his head, confused.

“You two were just like that. I know because she told me. Over and over again. Until we came here ourselves, more than once.” Isaac didn’t sound bitter, just like he was stating a fact.

“Really?” Scott’s heart gave a small leap. So Allison hadn’t forgotten the good times they had shared.

“Really,” Isaac confirmed. “Allison still cares about you, Scott, and you still care about her, but it seems like now, you’re both ready to let each other go. She can, because she knows you have someone who truly loves you, and you can, because you know she hasn’t forgotten you. Mate or not—good people suffer during breakups.”

Scott let out a relieved breath and nodded. “Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend.”

That same boyfriend who now let go of a laughing Allison after telling her what must have been a terrible joke, only to skate back over to Scott and pull him into a warm hug. Scott didn’t need to be asked twice, and soon, they were all skating together, side by side, as if this wasn’t the first time they had met up as couples.

After what felt like forever, Luke and Scott eventually left the ice and sat on the bench, watching Isaac and Allison skate together, laughing and holding hands. Luke leaned against Scott’s shoulder with a dreamy sigh, cheeks still flushed.

“Went well, huh?” Scott asked, earning an excited smile from Luke.

“Yeah. I think Allison and I will get along fine once we get to know each other better.”

“I think so too.” Scott pressed a kiss to Luke’s temple, enjoying the closeness between them. They could definitely do this more often. Maybe even with Stiles and Derek, if those two ever calmed down about Luke. But he pushed that thought away. Now wasn’t the time or place. Right now, he felt good, and he wanted to savour that.

“Scott?” Luke asked softly after a while.

“Mm?”

“Listen, um… could I stay over at yours tonight?” Luke sounded hesitant as he looked up at him.

“You want to stay over?” Scott was a little surprised, as Luke had never seemed the type to sleep anywhere other than his own bed—or a hotel bed.

“Yep,” Luke confirmed. “If that’s okay?”

“Sure. Mom’s on the night shift anyway, so… I don’t think she’ll mind if there’s breakfast for one extra in the morning.”

“Cool.” With that, Luke snuggled back against Scott, whose heart was now beating wildly. He wondered what the night would bring, but somehow, he was looking forward to it. At least at Scott’s place, he didn’t have to worry about being woken up by a butler or faced with a ridiculous breakfast spread. Definitely not.

Chapter Text

Surprisingly, Luke hadn’t driven past his own place first. Instead, they’d headed straight to the McCalls’ house. It was an interesting turn of events, considering Scott had fully expected his friend wouldn’t lower himself to staying the night without his own clothes. Or his own food. Or any of the luxuries he seemed used to.

Once home, Luke peeked around the corner and cleared his throat. “Hello? Melissa?”

“She’s not here,” Scott laughed. “I told you, she’s on the night shift.”

“Yeah, I just wanted to be sure,” Luke mumbled.

“Sure about what?”

Before Scott could ask any further, he found himself pinned against the hallway wall, Luke kissing him, fingers tangled in his hair.

Scott had expected many things, but not this. It took him a moment to respond to the intimacy before he kissed back, his hands instinctively running along Luke’s back. He could smell him, the familiar scent filling his nose and leaving him wanting more.

They broke apart briefly, only for Luke to pull him towards the sofa, a wide grin on his face. Letting himself fall over the backrest, he dragged Scott with him, wrapping his arms around him. He kissed the birthmark on Scott’s neck, working his way slowly up towards his chin.

“What’s up with you?” Scott murmured, admitting to himself that his voice was trembling. He was excited. They rarely shared moments like this, especially when they were truly alone, with no risk of being caught.

“I’ve got a ridiculously hot boyfriend, I’m a teenager, and I’d like to take advantage of us being unsupervised,” Luke replied, leaning back slightly, hands pressed to Scott’s chest so he could see his grin.

“You had that before too,” the Alpha teased.

“I know,” Luke nodded, “but now I’m in the mood for something... different.”

“Oh yeah?” Scott raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”

Luke rolled his eyes and fiddled with the hem of his shirt. “How about we...” He seemed to get an idea, grinning even wider before pulling himself up and dragging Scott with him.

“We what?” Scott asked, confused, as they headed towards the bathroom.

Luke let go of his hand and grabbed the hem of his black Iron Man t-shirt, pulling it off in one swift motion and letting it drop to the floor, followed by his trainers and socks. When he reached for the button on his jeans, he paused, tilting his head as he looked over at the shower beside him.

Scott hesitated. If he gave in, as much as he wanted to, he might lose control. He’d been close before, and hurting Luke was the last thing he wanted.

“What, have I suddenly grown boils on my face or chest?” Luke paused, looking him straight in the eye. “Or don’t you want to? If it’s too soon, we don’t have to—”

“It’s not that!” Scott blurted out. “Not at all. You look...” He bit his lip. Luke looked incredible, and he was becoming painfully aware of it. Everything inside him screamed to get into that shower and find out what would happen if they touched each other deliberately. It would be his real first time with a boy, ignoring that brief sofa incident in the past. But it would also mean letting go completely. In his condition, in what he was, that was dangerous.

He’d never felt anything this intense before. He couldn’t even pinpoint what it was about Luke that drew him in so strongly. With Allison... the memories of his first girlfriend were blurring, her image fading. Replacing her was a dark-blond, athletic, and arrogant—almost posh—boy with grey-green eyes and a cheeky grin, braces flashing.

“Scott?” Luke had stepped closer without him noticing, hands resting behind Scott’s neck, pressing his forehead against his. “You do know you can just say no, right? I thought maybe we were ready to at least try, to see each other naked once.” He chewed on his lip. “I know I said we should take it slow, plan everything, but I don’t want to wait—not for this. You look amazing, and I love everything about you, inside and out. We can just watch a film and go to bed instead, but...” Luke hesitated again. “Listen, Scott—you have to trust me. Nothing bad will happen, nothing you don’t want. You can just say stop, or no, or even slap me if you want, but please, don’t just stand there like a statue, okay?”

Scott took a moment to process what Luke had just said. He was asking for trust. Did he trust him? Could he? Should he?

“Of course, he’s your boyfriend,” his inner voice spoke up. “If you back out now, you’ll hurt him. You’ve been with Allison before...”

It was Scott who pinned Luke against the shower cubicle this time, kissing him urgently, desperately, pulling off his own shirt with some difficulty. As soon as it was off, fingers trailed over his bare back, leaving a pleasant heat wherever they touched.

They broke the kiss briefly to strip off the rest of their clothes, and Scott had to fight not to stare, to stop himself from pouncing on Luke then and there. Luke didn’t look embarrassed at all; he seemed confident, unbothered. They stepped into the shower together, hot water cascading over them as Luke turned it on.

“That’s more like it,” Luke grinned cheekily, pushing wet strands of hair from his eyes. “You’re way too well-behaved and sensible most of the time.” He pulled Scott closer, running a hand through his soaked hair. “Your hair looks even darker when it’s wet. I’m realising I have a thing for dark-haired guys.”

“Oh yeah?” Scott blinked water out of his eyes, placing a hand under Luke’s chin. “Is that all?”

Why had he said that? Where had his nerves gone? His sense of reason?

“Not just that,” Luke moved so Scott’s fingertip touched his lips, “but also, yes. You’ve no idea what your fingers do to me.”

Actually, Scott was fairly sure he had a similar effect on Luke. Before he could respond, they were kissing again, passionately, hungrily. Scott let himself feel it all, including the desire, because he trusted Luke.

Their hands roamed each other’s bodies automatically, Luke’s lips burning against Scott’s skin—his neck, his collarbone, his chest. The warm water helped him relax further. At some point, Scott cradled Luke’s head and leaned back, savouring this moment of trust and intimacy.

Eventually, Luke’s hands travelled lower, and Scott had to hold himself back. The first, gentle touch at his hip made him flinch. Luke whispered something in his ear that he couldn’t quite catch, blood pounding in his head, water pouring over him, clouding his senses, his arousal making it impossible to think clearly.

It felt like just a moment before a tightening sensation built in his groin. He bit his lip to stifle a moan, his whole body tensing as he shut his eyes. Unlike last time, he wasn’t embarrassed by how quickly he came. Against the intensity of this moment, the wave of emotion crashing over him, he was powerless.

He opened his eyes carefully to find Luke leaning against him, head resting on his chest. Had he blacked out for a second? The water was still pleasantly warm, though he’d half expected to find Luke in a different position. A quick glance at his hand confirmed it—his skin was already starting to wrinkle.

“Luke?” he asked softly.

“Hm?” Luke lifted his cheek from Scott’s chest, reluctantly.

“Are you okay?”

“I... I think I might’ve zoned out for a bit,” Luke shrugged helplessly.

“Zoned out?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Let’s just say, touching you was enough, okay?” He pulled a face, then grinned crookedly.

Scott blinked, stunned. So they’d both shared this experience, which was a little scary but also comforting.

They finished showering, changed into comfortable clothes for bed. Luke had chosen one of Scott’s black t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

“And why that, exactly?” Scott asked as they lay in bed, Scott’s arm around Luke, both staring at the ceiling.

“Because it smells like you—really strongly,” Luke explained, getting comfortable with his head on Scott’s shoulder. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing this cheap thing.”

“How generous,” Scott grinned.

“I know.” Luke closed his eyes, snuggling closer. “Is this area safe, by the way?”

“What makes you ask?”

“Because there’s a Mercedes SLR McLaren parked outside your house, and I’m not in the mood to replace the windows if some idiot tries to steal it.” Luke didn’t sound particularly worried.

“Well, it’s a pretty quiet neighbourhood,” Scott replied, slightly helpless. “If you want, you can put it in the garage.”

“No need. The alarm’s loud enough. Otherwise, I’ll just go down and crack the guy’s skull,” Luke said, surprisingly seriously.

“Maybe don’t do that,” Scott replied weakly.

“Don’t always play the moral saint,” Luke shifted on his chest.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Scott had to fight back a laugh. It struck him how much Luke needed to have the last word. Instead of replying, he kissed Luke on the forehead and closed his eyes. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep, surprisingly at peace.

Chapter Text

Over the weeks leading up to Halloween, Luke and Scott had grown even closer. By now, the werewolf claimed he was starting to understand his friend, even predicting when one of his outbursts was about to happen—so he could try to contain it. Of course, it didn’t always work, and turning Luke into someone socially pleasant would likely take months, if not years. Still, they were on a good path.

Luke got along splendidly with Lydia, and somehow, he’d even managed to get Isaac onto his football team. How exactly he’d pulled together a team at Beacon Hills High remained a mystery, but he’d done it. With Aiden, Isaac and Scott himself on the pitch, they were quite the supernaturally gifted lineup—and Luke didn’t have to hold back because of it. In fact, sometimes Scott got the feeling there was more to Luke than met the eye. He’d briefly considered the idea of Luke being another werewolf—but dismissed it just as quickly. He’d have noticed.

Either way, Halloween was near, and Luke had offered to pick him up. Scott didn’t mind—frankly, he preferred it. Showing up in his old Toyota wasn’t exactly glamorous, especially compared to Luke’s sleek Mercedes. Not that Scott cared about status symbols—at least not much—but still, it was kind of cool being among the school’s elite for once.

He’d declined Lydia’s offer to do his makeup and had instead asked his mum. Explaining who the Hulk was—and why he didn’t want to go as Bugs Bunny—was something he’d eventually given up on. Melissa still seemed convinced her son wasn’t past the age where he should look “adorable” at Halloween.

But that wasn’t what had him nervous. He was actually pretty happy with his costume and how he looked. Paolo hadn’t lied—the face paint looked good, didn’t smell weird, didn’t itch, wasn’t greasy, and the trousers were surprisingly comfy. No, it wasn’t that. Something in his gut told him tonight, something would happen—and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

The doorbell yanked him out of his thoughts. He jumped in front of the hallway mirror, shook his head, tried to push the feeling deep down, then headed downstairs, slipping on his shoes and grabbing his jacket. One last hair check—fingers through the fringe—then he opened the door.

Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t this.

In front of him stood a figure cloaked in black. The lower part of the robe was slit for movement, leather bracers with ornate patterns covered part of a dark underlayer, fingerless gloves clung to his hands. A red sash was tied around a brown leather belt, its silver buckle shaped like a triangle. From under a pointed black hood—resembling an eagle’s beak—peeked dark blonde hair, hiding the upper half of the face. The mouth twitched in amusement. The only thing that seemed slightly out of place were the black trainers with white stripes—recognisable only because Scott knew them—half hidden by brown leather greaves.

“Tahiaati ya eazizi. Ana Luqa ibn Danyal. La shai'a waqi'on motlaq bal kollon momken.”

Scott raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You ruined the whole moment,” the other pouted, pulling the hood back. Luke gave him an offended look. “I welcomed you all romantically, told you who I was, quoted the Assassin’s Creed—and what do you do? You just go, ‘What?’” He puffed out his cheeks. “Do you even know how long it took me to learn that tiny bit of Arabic? And I’m still not sure I got it right.”

“You could’ve just said ‘hi’?” Scott offered.

“No Assassin just says ‘hi’—and I definitely don’t.” Luke stole a quick kiss and grinned. “But I’ll let it slide, because you’re a ridiculously handsome Hulk.” He tapped Scott’s forehead and giggled. “And with a bit more brain than the original.”

Scott chuckled, closed the door, and pulled Luke into a hug—this time kissing him back, longer and more deeply than before. The soft, warm lips, the lemony scent that always clung to Luke, his very presence—suddenly Scott’s worries seemed silly. It was going to be a great evening.

“What was that for?” Luke asked.

“No reason.”

“No reason?” Luke tilted his head and grinned. “So if I just tore your trousers off in the car for no reason, that’d be alright?”

“Would you?”

A faint blush coloured Luke’s cheeks—so probably not. Instead, he just grabbed Scott’s hand and led him to the car.

“You look absolutely gorgeous—good enough to eat,” he remarked as they climbed in.

“And you look like Altair—just in black.”

“That was the idea. I didn’t want to wear white like the Grandmaster. I’m not pure-hearted like he is. I’d make a rubbish assassin anyway. I was meant to be a Templar—only the armour’s a bloody nuisance.” Luke chuckled to himself and buckled in.

“Is that a hint of self-awareness I’m hearing?” Scott teased, doing the same.

“As if. I’m way above this entire school—well, apart from Allison, Lydia, Isaac, Aiden… and you, of course.” With the usual ease, Luke shifted gear and pulled away from the kerb, the road ahead dimly lit by headlights and the odd streetlamp.

“There he is,” Scott smirked. “I was starting to think you’d changed since yesterday.”

“Changed? Me?” Luke laughed, clear and bright. “I don’t change for anyone—except maybe for you, because I love you. But I’m who I am, and I’m proud of that.”

“You certainly don’t lack confidence,” Scott admitted. “Stiles calls it arrogance.”

“Stiles has seen about as much of the world as the dog-sitter of a disabled poodle. Where’s he even been—San Francisco? Pressing his nose to shop windows? He lives in the middle of nowhere.” Luke raised a hand to stop Scott’s reply. “Let me finish, yeah? It’s hard enough not to turn out a disaster in this backwater. I’ll give him credit for knowing stuff—but physically, I’d probably outrun him in a marathon with a leg tied behind my back. And don’t even get me started on his ‘down-to-earth’ nonsense…”

“But he is down to earth,” Scott argued, annoyed. “Even though Derek could easily bankroll anything.”

“That’s what he tells himself,” Luke scoffed, clicking his tongue. “I try not to go too hard on Stiles, alright? Even if he’s more annoying than that hopeless PE teacher. I honestly wonder how that man got a teaching licence.”

“The coach has his good sides too,” Scott offered.

“Oh, come on, Scott.” Luke rolled his eyes in the soft glow of the dashboard. “His attempts to get me to sponsor the lacrosse team couldn’t be more pathetic. Let’s not argue, yeah? I want to enjoy the evening. I’m buzzing already.”

“Got anything planned?”

“Not really. Just a nice night wi

Chapter Text

Even the entrance had been decked out with Halloween flair. Fake cobwebs clung to the corners of the doors, a creepy green light shimmered through the windows, and the air reeked of cheap plastic, aerosol propellant and rubber.

Scott wrinkled his nose. At the door they were greeted by Greenburg, dressed as a ghost—wearing what looked suspiciously like a white bedsheet, held together by a belt. His barely visible eyes peeked through two cut-out holes, along with a mouth barely visible in the moonlight's shadow.

“Scott, you look amazing! And this must be the assassin—Luke?” he greeted them enthusiastically. “Have you had a chance to look at my football application yet?” Excitement bubbled in his voice.

“Hmm, I’m still deciding,” Luke replied disinterestedly, handing over their tickets.

“So that means I’ve made the shortlist?” Greenburg asked, eyes wide as he tore the tickets.

Scott shot his friend a knowing look. The Brit forced a smile and straightened slightly. You could see just how much effort it took him not to roll his eyes and completely ignore Greenburg.

“What do you think, Scott?” he asked, glancing over. “You're on the team too, so that puts you in a position to help decide, right?”

“Oh yeah?” Scott raised a brow, amused. “Since when? I thought the captain made those calls solo? Since, you know, he's the one responsible for the team?”

Luke gave him a long-suffering look that screamed why are you doing this to me?

“You know what, Greenburg—I'll think about it. Scott will be your training partner. I’m toying with the idea of a ‘rookie mentorship programme’, where every newcomer gets paired with a senior. Scott will be thrilled to take that on, won’t you?”

He'd been hoisted with his own petard. And let’s be honest—Greenburg's puppy eyes were impossible to resist. Scott secretly wondered why his classmate let himself be pushed around so much. Not that he was particularly impressive—more of a classic background extra—but still, a nice guy. The way Coach treated him was often beyond appalling, and more than once, Scott had come close to calling Finstock out for it. (Probably not the smartest move when it came to a teacher.)

“I’m fine with that,” he said with a smirk. “Why don’t you come find Luke later and sort out the details?”

“Absolutely!” Greenburg beamed at them.

Luke snatched the tickets back with a scowl and stormed ahead into the high school. As soon as they were out of earshot, he hissed, “Why would you do that? The guy’s never getting off the bench.”

“Because he deserves a bit of luck. We're good enough to make it work, even with a weaker link in the chain—and besides, you don’t know how he might develop,” Scott replied calmly.

“How’s he supposed to develop? He’s a zero. Just look at him—he’s wearing a bedsheet.” Luke's eyebrows drew together as he bit his lip.

“You’d be surprised what I was like two years ago.”

“That’s not even a comparison. You’re outstanding in every area this sport needs. If I wasn’t captain, you’d be wearing the armband. Because you’re a leader. An Alpha.”

“And what tells you Greenburg couldn’t be one too?”

“The fact that he’s... him. You might as well try turning Stiles into a quarterback who bulldozes defenders with brute force. They're lightweights. No love for the game, no insight. Me?” He thumped his chest. “I live for football. It’s the one thing I’m truly good at. I train constantly, analyse my favourite teams’ matches, study weaknesses so I can fix them. A team needs to function like clockwork.”

“If your team’s really as good as you say, it should survive a weaker player—just give him a chance. Maybe he’ll surprise you and turn into a decent sub.” Scott kept his voice gentle. Luke was still stubborn and intense, and when it came to football, not even Scott could reason with him. But it was worth a try.

For a moment, Luke looked like he was about to punch one of the lockers. But then he just shrugged and shook his head. “Fine. Have it your way. He’ll be your problem anyway.” He reached for Scott’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “One day this saviour complex of yours is going to be the death of you.”

“I don’t think so.” Scott had to raise his voice now, as the spooky decorations—complete with LED lights stuffed into plastic pumpkins casting eerie shadows along the hallways—were now joined by increasingly loud music.

“Oh really? And why’s that?”

“Because you’ll be there to stop it.” With that, Scott pushed open the doors to the gym, leaving Luke no chance to reply.

Dozens of lights flashed, momentarily blinding the werewolf. He shielded his eyes with a hand to adjust. Music blasted from several speakers as zombies, mummies, superheroes and villains danced in the centre of the room. Blood-red punch, with floating edible eyeballs, was eagerly passed around in toxic-green cups. Even the gym had been decked out for Halloween. Someone had managed to hire a DJ—or maybe someone was just having fun shouting the next track into the mic.

“There you are!” A dangerously accurate Maleficent waved them over. She had a towering gargoyle in tow. “I thought you two weren’t coming!”

Luke stepped away from Scott to hug Lydia and kiss her cheek. “You look amazing. Told you that costume suits you better than a princess ever could.”

“Aiden,” Scott nodded briefly at her boyfriend, who returned the gesture.

“Scott looks good enough to eat,” Lydia grinned, linking her arm with Luke’s. “And his makeup’s still perfectly intact. You’re not seriously telling me nothing happened on the drive over?” She shot Luke a mischievous look.

“What do you think?”

“Nothing happened,” she said before dragging him off to the dance floor. Aiden growled lowly and glared after them. You didn’t need to be an expert in human nature to see the jealousy.

“Hey, it’s fine, they’re just friends,” Scott tried to reassure him.

“I don’t like it when Lydia clings to other guys. You should know that,” Aiden huffed. “They get along way too well.”

“Hey, you’re her soulmate. Don’t stress. Lydia loves you, and Luke loves me. No one’s stepping on anyone’s toes—especially not those two. They’re just enjoying their time. Best friends.”

Scott knew he should feel jealous. Back when it was Allison, he’d been ready to punch Jackson just for looking at her. And when Jackson hurt her—or tried to—he’d completely lost it. That simmering burn in his stomach had once followed him everywhere. But it didn’t come now. He knew—really knew—that Lydia and Luke were close. Nothing more.

“I still don’t like it.” Aiden turned away, his gargoyle wings nearly smacking Scott in the face. The werewolf ducked just in time, and Aiden melted into the crowd with a scowl.

And just like that, Scott was alone again.

“Well, well, what do we have here? The mighty HUUUUUULK!”

Stiles had slung an arm around him before Scott could react. “You look amazing. Seriously. Leaving the jacket half on shows real intelligence, considering how ripped you are. It doesn’t hide much, but it leaves just enough to the imagination.”

“Are you drunk?” Scott raised an eyebrow. Captain America looked a bit… off.

“What? No! There’s nothing here except fruit punch.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Where’s your other half?”

“Somewhere on the dance floor with Lydia. What about you? Where’s yours?”

“Superman? He said he was too old for a Halloween party and didn’t want to mess up the average age. Though, between you and me, he looks amazing in that costume.” Stiles wiggled his brows and smirked.

“Why’s Derek even wearing a costume if he’s not coming to the party?”

“Because I can be very persuasive.” He grinned wickedly, pointing toward one of the punch bowls. Sure enough, an incredibly sour-looking Superman stood nearby, glaring in their direction like he was ready to deck someone.

“You actually got him to come to the dance?” Scott struggled not to laugh. Derek at a party was like a crocodile in a swimming pool—so out of place it was almost majestic.

“Hey, we’re talking about me here.” Stiles rested his chin on Scott’s shoulder. “He complains, sure, but deep down? He’s enjoying himself.”

“Right,” Scott chuckled. “His eyebrows are practically touching his eyes.”

“That’s his seductive look.” Stiles waggled his brows again.

“I feel like you two have wildly different ideas of fun. Am I wrong?”

“Maybe?” Stiles shrugged and dragged him toward the dance floor. “If Derek won’t dance, and your cuddle bunny would rather twirl Lydia around, then you’re stuck with me.”

“And what if Derek decks me for it?” Scott snorted softly. Honestly, he was probably fine with Derek being a party-hater. As different as they were—bickering, teasing, clashing—they also loved each other.

They didn’t even get two minutes before they were interrupted. Luke appeared like clockwork, tapping Stiles on the shoulder: “Your boyfriend looks like he’s about to murder someone with a plastic cup. If I were you, I’d go keep him company. Because I’m going to help him do it if you don’t get your hands off my boyfriend.”

Stiles laughed and wandered off, leaving them alone. Surprisingly, Luke immediately started dancing with him. His hood was still pulled low over his face.

“Someone’s jealous?” Scott teased.

“Of Stiles? Not quite. Lydia just said I should stop a minor nuclear disaster by stealing you back.” Luke’s mouth twitched under the hood.

“And you had no ulterior motive?”

“Maybe.” Luke leaned in and kissed him, wrapping his arms around him. His lips tasted like punch. The hood slipped back a little, revealing more of his sandy-blond hair.

No one was paying attention. Scott glanced around—just a couple of teens at a Halloween party. Exactly how he’d imagined tonight, exactly how he’d wanted it. He kissed Luke back, full of warmth, letting everything else melt away.

They danced for a while longer before Luke said he’d spotted Isaac somewhere and needed to go over a few plays with him. Plus, Lydia wanted to nominate him for best costume, and he still had to submit his name.

Laughing, Scott let him go and stepped off the dance floor, thirsty and already spotting Stiles—without Derek.

“Where’s Superman?” he asked, grabbing a cup and filling it with punch.

“Said he had something to do.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“No clue.” Stiles shrugged. “Knowing him, probably growling to himself outside the school, then blushing when someone tells him he has a great arse in that outfit—and then coming back in.” He sipped his punch. “I saw Allison too. Classic Huntress. And Isaac’s Nightwing.”

“Why are we all so obsessed with superheroes?”

“No idea,” Stiles grinned. “Come on—let’s dance before Mister Sourwolf comes back.”

And with that, Scott was back on the dance floor again.

Chapter Text

Stiles had known. He had known something was off the moment Derek and Luke had both disappeared without a trace. That could only mean trouble. Still, he hadn’t wanted to alarm Scott unnecessarily. Derek had promised to keep a low profile at the Halloween dance. Only, Stiles’ gut didn’t quite believe that his soulmate wouldn’t act on impulse after all.

So he’d slipped away under some flimsy excuse. Scott was off with Allison, and Stiles wandered the seemingly deserted school halls alone. Where the hell was Derek? Something felt seriously wrong, and his instincts screamed as much.

“Damn it, Derek,” he muttered. “Can’t I go somewhere with my boyfriend just once without—”

He didn’t get to finish. A searing pain shot through his skull, and he cried out, stumbling into a locker with a hollow thud. He clutched his head in both hands, blinking rapidly. The dimly lit corridor, dotted with flickering pumpkin lanterns, blurred and sharpened in pulses, as though his vision were being flooded with a crimson filter. It swept away what was his and replaced it with something alien.

The scene shifted.

He—no, Derek—had the British Altaïr pressed up against a wall. Long, slender fingers loosely circled the teen’s throat. It would only take a little pressure. A little squeeze, and Luke would be done for. But instead of fear, Luke looked… amused.

“I was wondering when this would happen,” he said, placing both hands on Derek’s forearm but making no move to resist. He simply braced his feet against the wall so he wasn’t left dangling in mid-air.

“We can do this quick and clean, and I’ll let you go. Or you can take the hard way,” Stiles—no, Derek?—said coldly. Was this another waking dream?

“What’s the hard way? You tear my throat out?” Luke’s voice dripped with mockery, his eyes gleaming with disdain. “Kill a teenager, just because you can? How very heroic.”

“Shut up,” Stiles growled. “I ask the questions.”

“Oh? Go on then, ask away. I’ll try to answer.”

Luke didn’t seem even remotely concerned. Even when Stiles’ eyes glowed red and his fangs bared, the boy just smiled lazily.

“What’s your grandfather planning?” Stiles demanded, his voice guttural.

“I’d say he’s planning a comfy retirement. Maybe a cottage by the sea,” Luke said lightly.

“You know that’s not what I meant.” It took effort not to lash out. This smug little brat should be trembling—especially given the situation.

“Then be more specific.”

“What does he want with my pack? Why is he back? And what are you even doing here?”

“I wouldn’t know. Figure it out yourself. You’re the Alpha now, right? You turned them into monsters. Deal with it.” Luke shifted against the wall, the grip on his throat finally starting to wear.

“Don’t play games with me.” Stiles’ grip tightened. “Snapping your neck wouldn’t take much.”

“That might be true. But can you afford that?” Luke slipped two fingers under the crushing grip, trying to ease the pressure.

“What’s stopping me? Who’s stopping me?” Stiles sounded far less confident than he intended. His voice was low, angry, and far too uncertain. “Your grandfather?”

“Not Grandpa. That’d be a different kind of problem. I meant someone else.” Luke’s knuckles were white now as he fought for breath, voice rasping.

“There’s no one else…” Stiles began.

“Do you think Scott would let me die?” Luke cut in.

“What does Scott have to do with this? He doesn’t even know where we are. He’s probably dancing with Stiles right now.”

“If I’m right, he’s already looking for me. I should be accepting a prize for best costume with Lydia right about now.” Luke’s brow furrowed. “I could scream—and he’d hear me.”

“How? How would he hear you?” Stiles didn’t like how calm he sounded.

“Do you really think I don’t know what Scott is?” Luke gave a quiet laugh—then broke into a cough as Derek’s grip closed tighter.

“So you do know.” Stiles shoved him harder against the bricks.

“Why don’t you sniff it out?” Luke challenged hoarsely. “Go on. Smell if I’m scared—if I’m shaking because your glowing eyes are flashing and your claws are at my throat.”

Stiles rolled his eyes but gave in to the absurd suggestion. Luke smelled of lemons, sweat, and… hatred. Loathing, like a cloud around him. But not fear. There was no trace of fear.

“You don’t like what you’re sensing? Surprised your spooky eye-trick isn’t working?”

He was, actually. Teenagers usually pissed themselves around him. Jackson had barely managed to face him—and Jackson was a coward, sure, but Luke… Luke was something else.

“Why aren’t you afraid? Why don’t you flinch?”

“Because I’m not that scared little six-year-old anymore.” A flicker of defiance crossed Luke’s face.

“What?” Stiles asked, thrown off.

“Your uncle didn’t tell you that, huh?” Luke’s eyes narrowed. “Ask him sometime.”

“What does my uncle have to do with you?”

“You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?” Luke’s tone was venomous now. “Other than the small fact that he killed my mum? Go on, ask him.”

“So you do know about her death,” Stiles continued, suddenly unsure. He’d miscalculated. Of course he didn’t want to hurt the kid, let alone kill him. That would drive a wedge between him and Scott. He’d hoped fear would loosen Luke’s tongue, but it had the opposite effect. And Peter? What did he have to do with this?

“Of course I know. Do you think I’m stupid?” Luke’s voice dropped lower, rasping. “And one more thing, Derek—you're not the only one who can be scary. Preparation is everything.”

His hand slipped free and darted toward Derek’s face.

He caught it easily, fingers clamping around the wrist. A strange move—until he saw the glint of moonlight on steel. A hidden blade.

“So he did train you,” Stiles said flatly. “Makes sense. Would’ve been a good try… if you’d actually hurt me.” The blade hadn’t even scratched him.

“You don’t get it, Derek Hale. You took everything from me. Everything I ever hoped for. I’ve realised I’ll never be truly happy again—because of you.”

“What did we ever do to you? Took your mummy away?” Stiles snapped. “In case you’re wondering, she was a monster.”

“She was not,” Luke replied, voice trembling.

“Oh yes, she was. She took my entire family from me—no matter what she told you. And by ‘we’, you mean Scott too, don’t you? You do realise he’s just as much of a monster as I am.”

Maybe that would push him.

“He’s not! Scott is different!” Luke screamed, pale and struggling to speak.

“This is just another of your grandfather’s ploys, isn’t it? Getting close to Scott? Bet you’re lying even now—of course, your heartbeat hasn’t changed.” Suddenly, it all made sense.

“It’s not. I love Scott!”

“We’ll see about that. Let’s see if he still loves you—once he learns what you really are. A Hunter. A Hunter who used him.”

Luke’s face twisted. He surged forward, trying to force the blade toward Derek’s face—but a regular teenager was no match for a werewolf. Impossible odds.

“Did I strike a nerve? Should I go tell him—?”

“I’ll make sure you never speak again. Go to hell, Derek Hale!”

And this time—this time, Luke succeeded.

His other hand moved too fast.

Stiles wasn’t quick enough. A sharp pain blossomed in his neck, and he staggered back in disbelief. A blade protruded from his throat, wide as a finger. Blood poured out, hot and fast.

He might’ve laughed—if it hadn’t been so grotesque.

His eyelids drooped. He fought the blackness creeping in, but it got harder by the second. His head felt full of cotton. As he collapsed backwards, he heard fabric rip and felt claws scrape skin. A scream—high, raw, terrified—echoed in his ears before everything went dark.

Chapter Text

Scott was running. Faster than he ever had.
Luke’s scream still echoed in his ears, rattling through his bones. Something had happened—he knew it. Not imagination, not paranoia. Pure instinct. That cry had been real. He had to hurry.

He flew down the high school corridors, not thinking, not hesitating.
He couldn’t be too late. Not this time. Not again.

With every step, it became harder to hold back the change. His eyes were probably glowing already. The urge to shift crawled beneath his skin. It had been a long time since he’d reacted this strongly to a sudden threat. That alone told him everything he needed to know.

Luke was in danger.

He burst through the school doors, scanning his surroundings.
Luke couldn’t be far—he wouldn’t have heard that scream otherwise.

But he didn’t see him.

Scott shut his eyes and drew in a deep breath.

The air was saturated with artificial cobwebs, dried-out grass, cheap spray paint, fading Halloween decorations, and too many human scents. He filtered it all out—until only one trace remained.

Lemons.

The faintest hint of citrus.

That was enough.

Feeling more than a little ridiculous, nose lifted like some overgrown bloodhound, Scott followed the trail.

Through bushes and brambles, until—

His heart dropped.

Two figures lay crumpled near the brick wall behind Beacon Hills High.
One of them was Luke—no one else wore an assassin costume like that. The other...

“Derek?” Scott stepped closer, eyes wide.

Derek was slumped against the wall, dressed like Superman, a gash in his neck that was already starting to heal. He was groaning, but breathing.
In his hand, something metallic glinted in the moonlight.

But Luke—

His costume was torn open beneath the neck. Claw marks ran jaggedly down his chest to his navel. Blood. The scent of it hit Scott like a wave. Luke’s face was deathly pale, eyelids fluttering with the effort to stay conscious.

Fabric strips clung to Derek’s bloodstained fingers.

Scott hesitated.

Who should he help first?

The scene painted itself clearly in his mind: a fight.
He didn’t want to know who’d started it.
He was torn—between love and loyalty.
Where was Stiles?
Scott thought of going back for him but couldn’t risk leaving Luke alone.

He knelt beside him.

Luke’s lips curled into a faint, exhausted smile. “H-Hey, Scott,” he whispered. “J-Just need a minute. Just need to… rest, yeah?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Scott replied gently, assessing the damage.
The gashes looked bad.
A part of him burned with rage. He wanted to hit Derek—what had he been thinking?

But how had Luke hurt him?

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Scott said. “My mum’s on duty. We’ll make it.”

He sounded more confident than he felt.

The blood pooled beneath them.
Luke’s breathing was ragged.

Panic clawed at Scott’s chest.
No. Not now. He couldn’t lose control—not if he wanted Luke to survive.

“Where are your keys?”

“Right pocket,” Luke murmured. “But we can’t drive. Th-the blood’ll never come out.”

“Idiot.” Scott gave a weak smile. “Do you trust me to get you to the car safely?”

“Y-Yeah. Who else would I trust?”

Scott lifted him carefully, holding him close, turning with his friend in his arms.

He glanced at Derek, who now sat up, rubbing his neck. The wound had closed.

“Scott, it’s not what it looks like. He got in a good hit. It was—an accident.”
Derek’s voice rumbled low.

“I don’t care,” Scott said tightly.
His own eyes glowed red.

“Stiles said you wouldn’t do anything stupid. I trusted you.”

“That’s not fair—I—”

“Shut up, Derek!” Scott snapped, shocked at the snarl in his own voice.
“I don’t have time for excuses. You screwed up. Big time.”

He started to walk past—Derek grabbed his shoulder.

“Stiles had nothing to do with this, I—” He let go immediately, as if burned.

“Get out of my sight,” Scott hissed, pushing past him and holding Luke tighter.

His heartbeat was still steady—but growing weaker.

He had no more time to waste.

He brushed past Stiles without a word. His friend stepped back, startled, but Scott didn’t stop. He unlocked the black Mercedes with one hand and laid Luke inside, buckling him in carefully.

“Stay awake,” he murmured, kissing his burning forehead.

He slid behind the wheel, breathed in deep—and noticed Stiles approaching.

Scott didn’t want to talk. He couldn’t.
Even if he knew it wasn’t Stiles’ fault—Derek was the one who’d gone too far—it was easier not to think right now.

He adjusted the seat, turned the key, and let the engine roar.

“D-Don’t push it. Not while it’s cold,” Luke mumbled. “And d-definitely don’t hit sport mode. It’s too d-dangerous for you.”

Scott gave a faint smile. “Guess we’ll find out.”

He shifted into reverse, ignored Stiles’ knocks on the window, and gunned the engine.

Now he understood why Luke had needed special training for this car.
Even he struggled to keep control—and he had werewolf reflexes.
Still, Scott pushed it to its limits.

He’d wasted enough time already.

A ringtone snapped him back to reality.
Anime-style. Weird.

The dash lit up: Dad.

Scott froze. No. Not now.

But—wait. This wasn’t his father.

Luke’s phone was synced.

Mr Taylor.

He hesitated, then tapped “Accept.”

A crackle—then a voice.

“So you do pick up sometimes. How nice to hear from my elusive son.”

Daniel Taylor.

Scott thought quickly. What could he say? Should he lie?

Luke was still a minor. They might need a guardian’s approval at the hospital.

“Giving me the silent treatment isn’t exactly charming, Luke,” Daniel chided.

Scott glanced sideways—Luke was pale, limp, bleeding heavily.

“Mr Taylor,” he began, trying to sound calm. “Luke can’t speak. He’s badly hurt. I’m taking him to the hospital.”

Silence.

Daniel was processing.

Then: “The fact that you answered, and that you’re driving his precious car, tells me you must be Scott.”

Scott blinked. That’s what he took from that?

“Sir, I just told you your son’s seriously injured—and you’re identifying me?”

“I wasn’t asking. I was confirming,” Daniel replied, clipped and calm.
“And no point yelling while you’re driving. I assume crashing would be… less than ideal?”

Melissa would have screamed. Daniel sounded like he was sipping tea.

Unreal—but logical.

“The glove compartment—right-hand side—press gently,” he added.
“There’s a card. Blood type: O negative. Insurance info. My number. Hand it over at the desk.”

Scott nodded, focusing. Daniel continued: insurance coverage (top), medication allergies, emergency contacts.

His voice barely trembled. Scott might not have noticed it—if he weren’t a werewolf.

“My mum’s on call, Mr Taylor. She knows Luke. He’ll be in good hands. I won’t leave him.”

“I know.”

“…How?”

“Just because he doesn’t talk to me doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on,” Daniel said.
“He trusts you. And that’s rare.
I’m putting his life in your hands—whether I want to or not.
Don’t disappoint me, Scott.”

“I won’t. I promise.”

“Don’t promise things you can’t guarantee. I tried teaching Luke that—miserably failed.
Take care of him. And yourself. Call me when he’s admitted.”

The line went dead.

Just in time.

Scott pulled into the ER bay.

Luke’s heartbeat faltered again. Uneven. Weak.

This wasn’t good.

Chapter Text

Scott hated waiting. He was perfectly aware he had to be patient, yet he had already walked past the water cooler for the fifteenth time.
His mother had gone straight to looking after Luke. There had been no need for lengthy explanations – Melissa had simply, instinctively, drawn the right conclusions and taken care of her patients’ wellbeing. That had always been one of her greatest strengths.

Scott’s thoughts drifted to Luke’s father. Daniel Taylor hadn’t sounded unreasonable over the phone, nor like someone who lacked love for his son. Could his friend’s conclusions and stories have been wrong?
Admittedly, Daniel’s reaction had been rather rational, but that was hardly a fault – quite the opposite. Besides, there had still been a slight tremor in his voice. He did care about his son.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Scott stopped in front of the water cooler and thoughtfully watched the bubbles rising in the plastic container. How would his own father have reacted? Would Rafael have stayed just as calm? Maybe Scott had been unfair to him? Could you really blame a father for wanting to get to know his now-teenage child better? Perhaps his father had truly changed?

Scott’s phone rang. Who could be calling him now? He pulled the smartphone from his pocket and raised his eyebrows. An unknown number. The dialling code suggested overseas. He hesitated for a moment. Should he answer? Maybe it was Luke’s butler? Should he have informed him as well? Scott bit at his lower lip. Was that even something you did – inform a member of staff?

In the end, he forced himself to answer. “Hello? Who’s speaking?”

“Hello, Scott.”

“Mr Taylor? How did you get my number?” he asked, surprised.

“I could fire a laser beam from a satellite and hit the hospital you’re in so precisely that your phone would melt right out of your hand. What do you think?” He sounded amused.

Scott tilted his head slightly. It was a strange kind of humour, though he somehow doubted it was merely a joke. “If you’re calling about Luke…”

“I am – but not in the way you think. You’re waiting, same as I am. So I thought I’d keep you company for a while. After all, I can’t get through a conversation with my son without hearing your name every other sentence.”

Scott flushed faintly. That was somehow sweet, but also a little embarrassing. “Oh, Luke does that?”

“He does,” Daniel confirmed. “He must be quite taken with you – my attempts at matchmaking have all failed miserably, and I’ve tried more than once, believe me. Plenty of well-bred girls, all good-looking, with modelling careers ahead of them. I suppose I should now be asking myself if he might have taken more of a liking to a boy instead.”

“What do you mean by that?” Scott tried to ignore his inner voice whispering that he’d never measure up to a would-be model.

“That, by his accounts, you must be a gift from the gods.” A chuckle could be heard before a polite throat-clearing. “So far, you seem to be holding your own. You even kept a cool head and made the right calls in a tricky situation.”

“If that’s meant to be a compliment, I’m honoured, Mr Taylor.”

“It was an observation, nothing more, Scott,” Luke’s father corrected at once. “But that’s not actually why I’m calling.” His tone grew serious. “I’m going to have Luke flown home as soon as it’s possible.”

The words hit Scott like a punch to the gut. “But, Mr Taylor, that’s not necessary. Luke is in excellent hands here at the hospital!” he replied quickly.

“I strongly doubt that, Scott. A small-town hospital can never replace the specialist staff of a dedicated clinic.”

“But you said money wasn’t an issue. Why not fly in a specialist from America?”

“Scott, that’s not the point,” Daniel said, sounding surprisingly gentle. “I want him here for a while, because otherwise he won’t follow the doctors’ orders. The holidays are coming up anyway, and frankly, he’d be underchallenged in a high school. Just thinking about what a month at his old school cost…”

“You can’t do that, Mr Taylor! Luke’s only just settled in and, and…” Scott sounded almost panicked. He didn’t want to be separated from Luke. What if he never came back? Forgot about him?

“Scott, what I can and cannot do is entirely my decision,” Luke’s father cut in sharply. “I’m his father, and I make the decisions for him while he’s still a minor, and, with all due respect, I know my son better than you do. It was a mistake to let him go to America in the first place, but that can’t be undone.”

“A mistake? How can it be a mistake to let him make his own experiences?” Scott was angry now. He had only just met Luke, and in that short time had come to love him. No one should be allowed to ruin that. For the first time in ages, he didn’t feel like the odd one out when his friends talked about their partners – he was happy.

“Because he left under the wrong circumstances. What I’ve spent years trying to prevent has come to pass. But that’s not the issue. My decision is made – Luke will come home as soon as possible.”

Scott was on the verge of shouting down the phone that Mr Taylor could shove his decision wherever he liked, and that Luke was right to call him inhuman – when the man continued, “I want you to come with him.”

Scott stared, open-mouthed, as several bubbles rose in the water cooler.

“And perhaps persuade your friends to come too. At least this Lydia. Luke seems fond of her as well. Whether Allison’s father would allow her to go with you, I doubt, but I’ll do my best to make the idea palatable to him.”

“You want what?”

“Scott, what do you think I’m calling for? I won’t be able to keep Luke here if you’re not around, and it will be good for his recovery to have the rest of his friends with him. Leave the school arrangements to me; you’ll all be taught by private tutors in line with your current timetables. Consider it an extended educational trip.”

Scott was speechless. The casualness with which his caller spoke explained exactly where Luke got his lofty attitude from – only now his father had more or less asked him to come along.

“You’ll be staying at the house, of course, there are plenty of guest rooms. I’ll cover all expenses,” Daniel went on. “Your only job will be to distract Luke and keep him entertained. Nothing more.”

“Mr Taylor, do you realise what you’re suggesting? You’d still have to deal with our parents. With the school. Possibly even with the authorities in England.”

“I’m well aware, Scott. I’ve accepted that it’s impossible to rein my child in – no one can. But I can try to steer him a little. Since he met you and the others, he’s been happier.” A barely audible sigh. “I may not have much time for him – can’t be there for his football matches, his school plays, or when he’s racing – but I can make his life as comfortable as possible. I know when to lay down my arms, Scott. Luke can’t be raised with rationality, strictness, or absolute freedom – I’ve long since given up on that.”

Scott honestly didn’t know what to make of it. This was exactly the kind of behaviour he so often criticised in Luke: money didn’t solve everything. Yet somehow his father’s arguments made sense. It would also take them out of the line of fire, leaving Derek to wage his private war against Gerard alone if he insisted. Maybe it would even cut Gerard off from the resources to keep resisting. Without Luke at his side, there’d be no reason for Daniel to keep supplying him with equipment.

“I need to think about it and speak to my mum first, Mr Taylor,” Scott replied politely.

“Then think on it – but don’t take too long, all right? Besides, I’m a little curious about the boy who’s managed to turn my son’s head, but that’s by the by. We’ll be in touch.” And with that, he hung up, leaving Scott deep in thought.

Chapter Text

No sooner had Scott hung up than his mother was already coming towards him. Melissa gave him an encouraging smile. “Who were you on the phone with, sweetheart?”

“Luke’s dad,” he said shortly. “How is Luke? Can I see him?”

“Let’s sit down in the staff lounge,” she suggested. “Before you worry yourself sick: he’s as well as can be expected under the circumstances.”

That already sounded better than “he’s dying”. Even so, Scott was unsettled. His mother wasn’t coming straight out with it – never a good sign. He followed her into the staff lounge, where a small table, several chairs, a coffee machine, a crammed noticeboard and a host of locked cupboards awaited him. They both sat down and Melissa took a sip of coffee.

“Well?” Scott asked, a touch impatient. “What’s going on?”

“Luke lost a lot of blood,” she told him calmly.

“I’m well aware of that, but what does it mean? It’s not life-threatening, is it?”

“No,” she assured him, placing her hand over his. “It’s just that Luke is very weakened because of it. If you’d turned up with him a little later, it could have had serious consequences. What actually happened, sweetheart?”

Scott hesitated. He didn’t want to burden his mom with his worries. Melissa had enough on her plate without him. But who else could he confide in if not her? Their relationship was good and he loved her dearly. He could talk to his mother about anything.
“It was Derek,” he began, then drew a deep breath. Saying it out loud didn’t make it any better; on the contrary, it made him truly realise what had happened. “Luke and he must’ve got into a fight behind the high school or something. I only got there once they’d already hurt each other.”

“You mean Derek did that to Luke, but Luke got him as well?” Melissa raised her brows sceptically. “I always thought you had to be trained to injure a werewolf, or be a supernatural being yourself.”

That was a thought that had been haunting Scott for a while. How the hell had Luke been able to do that to Derek? Derek’s injuries didn’t seem so severe that he couldn’t recover, but still – the very fact that Luke had managed to keep him at bay at all was astonishing.

“Mom, I don’t know myself,” he admitted quietly. “I’ve no idea how that’s possible. Normally people are scared when they come up against a werewolf.” Scott closed his eyes and tipped his head back. It just didn’t add up. The thought that Luke might be a hunter seemed absurd to him, yet was it really so far-fetched to suspect that of his friend?

“Fear is a natural reaction of the body to an unknown situation. But whoever believes in themselves, convinced they are the most terrifying thing around, has no need to be afraid.” The words suddenly came to him. And with them, unbidden, a thought of Luke. Had his friend said that to him once? Somehow the sentences sounded familiar.

A gentle pressure on his hand made him open his eyes again. Melissa stroked the back of his hand carefully. “Would it change anything for you if Luke were a hunter? Or a supernatural being?”

“No,” he replied without hesitation. “Luke is a good person and I like him a great deal. He may be difficult, but he has a good heart.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t tie yourself in knots over the why, hm?” His mother wrapped the handle of her mug with her free hand and took another sip. “Luke’s asleep. You can go to him, if you like, but please don’t wake him.”

“It really isn’t life-threatening?”

“No, we’ve got everything under control. It will take a while before we can discharge him though, and he’ll need to take it easy afterwards,” she explained.

Scott bit his lower lip, which drew a questioning look from his mom. “Mr Taylor said he’d bring Luke home and he’s asked me to go with him.”

Melissa looked at him in silence for quite a while before her lips curled into a smile. “Why does that not surprise me?”

“Life experience?” Scott suggested, smiling as well.

“Perhaps?” She withdrew her hand and wrapped both around the mug.

“Would you even let me go?”

“Scott, what about school? I mean, you’ve improved a lot, but still...” The hesitation was almost written across her face.

“Mr Taylor said we’d have private tutors.”

“We?”

“Lydia and Aiden are supposed to come too, as well as Allison and probably Isaac.” Scott chewed the inside of his cheek.

“Do you actually want to go? What about Stiles?” Melissa gave him a worried look.

“Mom, Luke needs me and I need him. When Mr Taylor told me he wanted Luke to go back to England, my world briefly collapsed. I love him and I don’t want to let him go. But if I stay, he’ll stay too, I know he will, and then we have a problem. Derek probably thinks Luke is in league with his grandfather. I can’t protect Luke and make allowances for Derek at the same time. What if I have to choose?” With every word he spoke, a weight like a ton slid off him. “I don’t want this to get out of control. If Stiles is right, then Gerard’s hunters might be equipped with cutting-edge weapons and able to assert themselves. If Luke goes to England, he may lose access to those resources.”

“Wouldn’t it be your duty, in some way, to stand by Derek and therefore Stiles as well? Good grief, that I’m even saying that to you.” Melissa seemed annoyed with herself.

“It would, but Derek crossed a line, Mom. He knew I loved Luke and that he certainly had nothing to do with Gerard’s schemes. Even though Stiles promised me he’d hold back, Derek did the opposite. For the first time in a long while I was happy again. I wasn’t alone anymore; I finally had someone by my side. I won’t let anyone ruin that. No one.” The conviction in his voice even startled him. He was angry with Derek and, in a way, with Stiles too. The latter hadn’t been able to prevent his friend being attacked, and the former was trying to talk his way out of it. It wasn’t fair.

Melissa was silent for quite a while, studying Scott closely. After what felt like an eternity she gave a brief nod. “I suggest you go to Luke first. If you truly want to, I’ll think about letting you go for a while, but please don’t ask me for a decision yet, alright?”

“Sure, Mom.” Scott got to his feet and hugged her tightly. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” she replied warmly. “Perhaps you should contact Lydia and Allison as well?”

“I’ll do that in a minute.” They let each other go and looked at one another for a few more moments before Scott went outside and took a deep breath. Was he doing the right thing? Was there even a right or wrong in this situation? That was something he had to find out. He reached into his trouser pocket and pulled out his phone. At the very least, calling Lydia to fill her in was a good idea – then his head would be completely clear and he could devote himself entirely to his boyfriend.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t Lydia who opened the door to Luke’s room. Scott had spent the time so far watching Luke sleep. His friend looked like an angel when he slept. This time too—if it hadn’t been for the ghastly bandages peeking out from under the duvet and covering his chest.

Luke’s butler stood in the doorway. Jonathan had a parka slung over his right arm and raised his eyebrows nervously. His gaze fell on Luke, and with the fingers of his free hand he twirled his moustache.
“Good evening, Mr McCall.” He added a polite bow.

“Good evening, Jonathan,” Scott nodded to him. “I honestly wasn’t expecting you—at least not this early.” He hadn’t told the butler, uncertain what Luke would have thought of it.

“I’m quite aware.” He looked over at Luke, worried. “Mr Taylor informed me that it wasn’t a life-threatening situation. Nevertheless, I preferred to reassure myself in person.” Jonathan sighed softly. “Forgive me if I’ve interrupted an intimate moment.”

“Not at all,” Scott said quickly. “Please, have a seat.” He indicated a free chair beside him, and Jonathan sat down at once.

His gaze still rested on Luke, the worry plain to see. Despite his neat appearance—clothes that looked freshly ironed, white gloves and a butler’s tailcoat—the older man radiated something of a loving, fatherly or grandfatherly friend.
“Mr Taylor said you were the one who found him?”

“I was,” Scott confirmed. “I took him straight to the hospital.”

“You acted very calmly and sensibly. Thank you for that, Mr McCall.” Jonathan gave him a faint smile and looked over at him. “Master Luke did well to fall in love with you.”

“How do you mean?” Scott raised his right eyebrow, noticing his cheeks burn a little.

“I’ve known Master Luke since he was a child—have accompanied him along his whole life. You must know, Mr McCall, he wasn’t always like this.” He stroked the tip of his left moustache thoughtfully.

“Not like this?” Scott prompted, turning his gaze to Luke as well, who was still sleeping.

“Master Luke was a cheerful child. He laughed often and a lot. I often had to read to him in the evenings until he fell asleep. He never let his cuddly rabbit out of sight, and he’d hold my hand tightly so I wouldn’t leave while he was still awake.” Jonathan smiled again, softer now and wistful. “How often I wondered what would become of him as he grew older. Whether he’d be able to preserve his good core—his good heart—or not.”

“But he has, hasn’t he?” Scott noticed, out of the corner of his eye, Jonathan’s smile fade.

“You know that, Mr McCall, and I know it too, but that’s not what I meant. Master Luke was terribly gentle and empathetic. I had to hire a carpenter to build a little house for the hedgehogs in the villa’s garden so they wouldn’t be so cold in winter. Or scatter nuts outside for the squirrels so they could more easily stock up for hibernation.”

“And Luke doesn’t do that any more?” That sounded far less like his friend than he’d assumed. Somehow, Luke hardly ever talked about animals, apart from his dog.

“Occasionally. But Master Luke has changed. Hard-hearted, domineering and rough. You know, Mr McCall, sometimes I wish I could change the past a little.”

“The past? Why? Did something happen that made Luke turn out this way?” Scott focused on Jonathan, who shifted restlessly on the chair.

“There was something, and I’m not permitted to tell you, Mr McCall. As much as I would, since I believe you’re good for Master Luke. If anything, you must ask him yourself.” He lifted his hands apologetically. “But I can say in good conscience that you suit him far better than Mr Niles.”

“Mr Niles? Who is Mr Niles?” Scott asked, curious. He wouldn’t get the other matter out of Jonathan, and he didn’t want to pressure the older man unnecessarily. He somehow liked Luke’s butler—very much, in fact.

“Mr Niles was Master Luke’s martial arts instructor.” Jonathan pulled a bit of a face.

“Martial arts? You mean… proper martial arts?” Scott was astonished.

“Yes, I mean proper martial arts. Among other things.” He scratched his nose uneasily and wrinkled it. “I must admit, Mr Niles was a rather rough influence. Mr Taylor was ultimately unwilling to tolerate that negative influence on his son any longer than necessary, so he dismissed him.”

“Hang on—was this Mr Niles’s first name Adriel?” Something rang a bell for Scott.

“Correct. Adriel Niles.”

“That was Luke’s first boyfriend, wasn’t it?” At the thought, his stomach turned. He felt an aversion to this Adriel, even though he didn’t know him.

“It never came to that. Mr Taylor cut off contact, and Mr Niles had no interest in Master Luke in that regard either—much to his sorrow.” Jonathan laced his fingers together and rested his hands in his lap. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that. Mr Niles was a bad influence.”

“Jonathan, much as I’m interested in Luke’s past, which you undoubtedly know something about—why are you telling me this?” Scott watched the older man’s reaction closely.

“Because you are quite different from Mr Niles, and you’re giving Master Luke a piece of himself back,” Jonathan explained, now regarding him with a grateful expression. “He smiles when he talks about you, goes to school gladly again, and is delighted by your calls and your messages. There’s something like happiness in his life again—tangible happiness. Of course you aren’t the only reason—I also hear the names Miss Martin, Miss Argent and Mr Lahey regularly—but it is chiefly you who’s bringing back the radiance I thought was lost.”

Scott scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed. That did sound much more like Luke. He was truly attached to him, and it went both ways. He somehow felt bad for not telling him about being a werewolf—or for doubting him. Luke was a good person and, deep down, a vulnerable boy whom he loved and wanted to protect.
“You notice far more than you let on, don’t you?”

“I often say nothing because my position forbids it, Mr McCall, but I am not only Master Luke’s butler; I am one of his long-standing companions, a constant in his life. I didn’t keep my post with Mr Taylor for so long merely because it’s well paid, allows me a more comfortable retirement and carries prestige. Above all, Master Luke persuaded me to remain in the household.”

“You’re very attached to Luke as well,” Scott observed.

“Master Luke has a talent for enchanting the people around him. More so in the past than today. But you’re right, Mr McCall—I feel a strong bond with Master Luke beyond the purely professional, and I worry about him a great deal, just as I cheer him on at his football matches or cross-country races.”

Scott fell silent at that. So it wasn’t as simple as Luke always made it out to be: mere domestic staff. What else did Jonathan know about his friend? Could he ask?

“It isn’t hard to guess your thoughts,” his conversational partner chuckled. “You certainly want to know more about Master Luke.”

“You’ve a pretty good read on people,” Scott said evenly. “There’s a lot I’d like to ask you, Jonathan, but you’re hardly going to answer me.”

“I am not authorised to discuss Master Luke’s private life, that’s correct.”

“But you can answer one single question—truthfully.”

“I’ll try,” he nodded in confirmation. “What would you like to know?”

“What do you think of Luke’s grandfather?”

Scott watched Jonathan’s posture change. The worry gave way to a flicker of anger, which vanished at once. The fingers of his left hand balled into a fist, which he tried to hide with a discreet little cough into it.

“Master Luke loves his grandfather dearly. It isn’t my place to question that relationship,” Jonathan replied coolly.

“I didn’t ask for your opinion of that, but what you think of Gerard.”

Luke’s butler stroked his moustache and then thoughtfully his chin. He weighed his words; one could see it.
“I share the view of Master Luke’s dog.”

A clever answer. Scott couldn’t help smiling. He didn’t need to know more. Perhaps Gerard wasn’t as untouchable as they had feared. That was a lever he could use.
“Will you come to England, then?”

“Naturally. I have never left Master Luke’s side unless he insisted on it.” Jonathan hesitated, then laid a hand on Scott’s shoulder. “With your permission, Mr McCall, you should get a bit of rest. As far as I’m informed, your mother is responsible for Master Luke’s care at the hospital. She will doubtless let you know, and I am here as well.”

Only now did Scott notice how hard it was to keep his eyes open. How long had he been sitting with Luke? He should change too—by now the Hulk get-up was no longer appropriate. Something told him his friend was in good hands with Jonathan.

“Perhaps you’re right.” Slowly, with a long stretch, Scott stood up. Then he remembered how they’d come here. He fished in his trouser pocket and held out the Mercedes key to Jonathan.

Jonathan gave him a questioning look, then closed Scott’s fingers around the key. “I came in the second car, Mr McCall, and Master Luke would never forgive me if you had to take the bus home—or even walk. His car is in the best hands with you.”

“But…”

“If Master Luke were to entrust his car to anyone, it would be you. He’s already entrusted you with his life, after all—and Mr Taylor as well, I daresay. Drive carefully.” Jonathan stood to offer a slight bow. “And sleep well, Mr McCall. Good night—or good morning, as the case may be.”

“Good night, Jonathan,” Scott returned the gesture and went outside. It had been a strange evening and an even stranger night, and yet he somehow had the feeling he had achieved something

Chapter Text

Stiles had already been waiting for a good hour. He was skipping school today. This was more important than biology or maths. It was about his soulmate—and about Scott.
He simply couldn’t understand how it could be possible that a teenager like Luke, untrained and inexperienced, could injure an Alpha so badly.

Derek was doing better. The wound on his neck was healing quickly, though he’d still have to take it easy today. Luke had really got him, and that worried Stiles a great deal. By now he suspected far more behind the Brit than a mere, highly athletic snob. There was more, much more.

At last the butler left the hospital room. Fending off the staff again and again had proved surprisingly tiresome. He’d been hanging around here for quite a while, after all.
This Jonathan puzzled Stiles too. The man practically never left Luke’s side. He seemed overprotective, had leapt up the moment his master woke and fetched him a cola from the vending machine in the corridor. In a Detective Conan Tupperware box he kept something that looked like lemon cake ready, and the familiar Spider-Man thermos flask surely contained Earl Grey.

From what Stiles could tell, Luke couldn’t possibly have a close bond with the old man. According to Scott’s accounts, his friend behaved imperiously towards any member of staff, whether that was a cashier in a department store or simply a waitress in a café. Assurances that he’d improved a great deal, he chalked up to Scott’s rose-tinted glasses.
Why should it be different here? Why was Jonathan treated better than the rest? Why answer that caring manner with a faint smile? Why not take it for granted that food was brought to him and he wasn’t forced to eat hospital slop?

The longer Stiles thought about it, the harder it became to assess Luke correctly. Derek was plagued by doubts as well. Something was off about this boy. Either he was a brilliant actor or a dangerous psychopath. He couldn’t and wouldn’t accept any other rational explanation.

With Jonathan gone, Luke was alone. He closed his eyes and sank back into his hospital bed. This was Stiles’ chance. He wanted answers, and he would get them.

Stiles quickly checked there wasn’t a nurse nearby before slipping into Luke’s room. Quietly, he closed the glass door behind him.

"Do you really think I didn’t see you?"

Stiles froze, hand still on the door handle. How had Luke noticed him? He’d made a point of being quiet. Normally he shouldn’t have been able to hear him. No one could, except a werewolf.

"What do you want?" Luke’s voice was cold and cutting.

Stiles took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down. He didn’t rate himself highly at much, but being unobtrusive and quiet when it mattered—those were his strengths. He’d proved those qualities often enough. Slowly, he turned around.
"How did you do that?"

"What? Notice you?" Luke asked mockingly. "You’ve been loitering in the corridor for quite a while. I sent Jonathan away because I’m curious what you want. Keep it brief; my patience is limited."

"I want to talk," Stiles began, taking the free chair by his bed. "About what happened between you and Derek yesterday."

"That he wanted to take me out and failed miserably?" His opposite propped himself up awkwardly on his elbows, a grimace of pain crossing his face.

"Among other things." Stiles tried to sound neutral. If he was honest, he had a bad feeling about Luke by now. Maybe it was the time spent with Derek, maybe yesterday’s incident, maybe just the general tension and restlessness that had gripped him ever since that ninja started prowling around.

"I’ll save you the interrogation: the only reason Derek is still alive is his closeness to you."

Luke’s words—his expression, his gestures and his voice—left no doubt that he meant it. He looked Stiles straight in the eye, didn’t even blink as he told him.

"Why?" was all Stiles managed.

"Because I’m sick of the Hale family destroying my life."

"Because of your mother? Kate was—" Stiles began, but was harshly cut off.

"No, not because of Mum. I’ve stopped asking myself why she didn’t want me, gave me away like a toy she’d grown tired of."

"Why then?" Stiles hid his astonishment. So it wasn’t about Kate. What else had the Hales taken from him? How else had they ruined his life?

"I hate everything to do with the Hales. Man, woman or child, it doesn’t matter. They need to be wiped out, every last one of them. I will never live in fear again. I’m no longer a little boy you can frighten with red eyes, fangs and claws." Luke’s features hardened as he spoke. "Should I have cried when he slammed me against the wall? Begged for mercy so he’d leave me alone?"

"Luke, why do you hate Derek so much?" Stiles asked gently, shutting out the hate and fury hitting him.

"Because his family took something from me." Luke contorted his face into a grimace. "And I’ll have my revenge, I swear to you. Derek will piss himself when he hears my name."

Stiles struggled not to recoil. He was used to odd types—the high school teemed with them—but this was a different league. Derek had assured him he didn’t know Luke, and convincingly so. What, then, had happened to this boy?

"When I’m done with the Hales, they’ll wish they’d never met me."

"Do you think Scott will allow that?" Stiles tried a different tack.

"If you dare drag Scott into this, you won’t recognise your Derek. I’ll take from him what his family took from me: every last scrap of hope. His life will be bleaker than you can begin to imagine."

Stiles couldn’t hold that hate-twisted grimace and looked down. Something had happened in Luke’s past that must have been worse for him than losing his mother. What could you take from a boy if not the family—or the scrap of family—into which he’d poured all his hope? Was he really over Kate’s death, or was it all an elaborate lie to distract from his true motives?

"From your words I gather you’re perfectly capable of defending yourself," Stiles concluded. "So you’re a hunter?"

"Get out, Stiles, or I’ll call security."

Surprisingly, Luke now sounded reasonably calm again, almost regretful. Stiles dared a glance at his counterpart, whose expression had returned to normal. He seemed to regret his outburst, but probably not out of guilt. Something had slipped out that he hadn’t meant to tell Stiles.

"You know you’re putting Scott in a bind with this, don’t you?"

"Of course I’m aware of that," Luke admitted quietly.

"So why pursue this path any further? You could have it so good, Luke. We could be friends, all of us..."

"Every time I even hear the name Hale, I’m reminded how much they ruined my life. As a little boy I swore I’d never again let fear rule me."

"That’s nonsense, Luke—everyone fears something." Stiles leaned back against the glass door and folded his arms across his chest. "Even rich snobs."

"Fear is a natural reaction of the body to a situation, whether unknown or not. But I have nothing to fear, because I am the most terrifying thing on any battlefield." Luke looked him straight in the eye. "And I will never be afraid again. Never."

"Then you’re lying to yourself. I know you’re terrified of losing Scott."

"You’re wrong." Luke’s features suddenly softened, his eyes went glassy and the corners of his mouth trembled. "I’m not afraid of losing Scott, because I will anyway one day."

"What makes you think that?" Stiles was perplexed. Up to now his best friend had always stood by Luke—or mostly, at least.

"Because I can’t give him what I want to give him. I’m tired, and I’ve already given you too much of my precious time. Leave now before I have you thrown out."

Stiles bit his lower lip and swallowed back a retort. He turned and stepped out into the hospital corridor. He risked one last glance over his shoulder. Luke blinked hard and then closed his eyes completely. Stiles would find out what was going on with him—not only because of Derek, but because of his best friend as well. Because even if rich boy might be many things, from a conceited arsehole to a spoiled snob, his feelings for Scott were real. Of that he was convinced now, at the latest.

Chapter Text

Scott didn’t feel comfortable at the thought that Stiles had been with Luke. He’d learnt it from his friend when he visited him in the hospital. That constant probing was getting on his nerves, especially since it certainly wasn’t Luke’s sole fault that he had to be bored in hospital.

“Did you speak to him?” Luke wanted to know. “Or did he corner you?”

“Neither.” Scott sat by his friend’s hospital bed, his fingers laced with Luke’s. “Stiles is avoiding me a bit.”

“And that bothers you.” A statement, not a question.

“Wouldn’t it bother you with your best friend?”

“I’d have kicked my best mate so hard in the balls he’d be speaking an octave higher, if he’d been responsible for your hospital stay.” The corners of Luke’s mouth twitched, amused.

“That’s absolutely not helpful, you know,” Scott replied, frowning.

“If I wanted to be helpful, I’d do it myself,” came the dry retort. “If you ask me, Derek’s got serious issues—wanting to scare a teenager with glowing eyes and fangs.”

“That biting sarcasm only hides that you feel guilty.” Scott absent-mindedly stroked his thumb over the back of Luke’s hand.

“Certainly not for almost sending him to the morgue.”

“What then? Because you lied to me?” Scott narrowed his eyes and fixed Luke with a penetrating look. “You knew. About Derek, about Isaac, about me…”

“Scott…” his friend began, sighing. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to talk about it, quite simply because it’s something I’ve never told anyone. It doesn’t bother me with Isaac, nor with you.”

“But it bothers your grandpa.”

That hit home. Luke gnawed at his lower lip and avoided Scott’s gaze. Instead, he stared at the television, where some cartoon was on. His posture shifted and he fidgeted restlessly on the bed.

“So you also know what happened in the past,” Scott concluded. “With your mother, with your grandpa, with Allison…”

“That you were together with her? Of course. I’ve also got eyes in my head.” He lifted his shoulders slowly. “Just as I’m aware I picked a fight with a werewolf on my first day of school.”

“You mean with Jackson?”

“Who, by the way, is about as frightening as a toy poodle with a limp.” Luke scratched anxiously at his right cheek. “I should’ve been honest with you, of course, but surely you can understand why I wasn’t.”

“Why not?” Scott pressed, without stopping the gentle stroking. “You could’ve just told me.”

“How? Casually, in the middle of a snog? ‘Oh, by the way, I know about your other side—the one with the brow ridges, the sideburns and the fangs.’” Luke rolled his eyes. “Listen, you’re my first boyfriend and I’m scared of putting you off. I’m hardly going to harp on about something as personal as this werewolf business.”

“Let’s leave it for now,” Scott pushed the uncomfortable topic aside. “So are you a hunter or not?”

“Do I look like one?” Luke gestured down at himself.

“You’re extremely athletic, and determined, confident and resourceful,” Scott countered.

“You forgot rich,” Luke added, amused. “Good-looking, brave, elegant…”

“Arrogant, overbearing…”

“I can reassure you on this one—I’m not a hunter, Scott. In my short life I haven’t taken down a single werewolf, nor killed any other supernatural monster. I have, however, broken a few legs playing football—if that makes me a bad person.”

“That’s not funny, Luke.” Scott could detect no sign of a lie; on the contrary, relief followed.

“Calm down, babe.” His friend kissed the back of his hand and smiled, conciliatory. “From now on I’ve got no more secrets from you, agreed?”

“So you want to be honest all the time?” Scott was sceptical.

“I didn’t say that.” He shook his head. “If I were always honest, dozens of people would lose their jobs—or their residence permits in this state.” Luke grinned and pulled Scott towards him to kiss him.

Scott suppressed his first impulse to pull away—if only because Luke’s lips were wonderfully soft and he’d longed for them. Even if he didn’t like to admit it, he was besotted with the Brit, and vice versa. Of course, that couldn’t undo everything—Scott was disappointed at Luke’s lack of trust—but, somewhere, he could, or rather wanted to, understand.

They broke apart, and his friend pulled a sulky face.
“What did your mum say? When can I finally get out of this hole?”

“Early next week. You’ve caused quite a few problems—or rather your father has.”

Luke’s expression darkened. “Of course. If I’m at death’s door, Dad shows up, but otherwise he couldn’t care less about me.”

“That’s a bit unfair and seems wrong besides. I think he does worry about you, but in his own way,” Scott chided him. “He comes across more like a bon vivant who’s aware he has a son.”

“I’ll give it two hours, tops, before you change your mind. Dad will find at least five things to pick on. Starting with your haircut, your clothes, and the fact you’re not from elite circles.”

“He’s been nice to me so far.”

“Then prepare to be surprised. I know my father a bit better than you do. It was already a battle to stop him from setting me up with those brats—or making me play football. You’ll see what Dad’s like.”

Scott was about to reply when the sound of the glass door leading to Luke’s room interrupted him. His mother gave them a warm look, then pointed to the watch on her wrist.
“Visiting hours are over, you two. Luke needs to rest, and you’ve still got homework.”

“Just half an hour more, Melissa, please,” Luke begged.

“Your doctor ordered rest, so please stick to it.” Melissa winked with her right eye. “Scott can come by later and visit me, hm?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Scott smiled at her. He hugged Luke goodbye and stood up. “See you later!”

“See you later, Scott!” His friend watched him go, eyes full of love, then sank back into the pillow. He did indeed look visibly relieved.

Chapter Text

The following weeks passed relatively uneventfully. Luke had been extremely reluctant to stick to the prescribed periods of rest, but in the end reason—and above all Scott’s interventions—outweighed his stubborn streak and proved more fruitful.

Luke’s other friends gathered at his sickbed regularly, led by Lydia and Isaac. The latter had even managed to encourage Allison to keep her cousin company and, although their relationship was still slightly tense, they had started to get along.

Nothing stood in the way of the trip to England now, except for the fact that Luke wasn’t yet fully recovered. The wounds caused by Derek’s claws had been deeper than assumed. Even the specialist doctors his father had brought in weren’t able to speed up the healing in any meaningful way.

“And?” Luke wanted to know, after they’d finished his history homework together. “How was your day?”

“Dull,” the werewolf replied, rolling his eyes. “You’ve no idea how boring chemistry can be.”

“At least it’s not about numbers,” came the sober answer, paired with a faint smile that showed his braces.

“Oh yes, maths,” Scott groaned. “There’s that as well.”

“I’ll be glad when I can finally get out of this dump.”

“Luke…” the alpha chided his friend.

“All right,” he lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s a dump—but bearable thanks to your lot’s company and your mother’s.” He shot him a questioning, slightly provocative look. “Better?”

“Not noticeably.”

“You’re never really satisfied.”

“And that’s how you love me.” Scott gave a soft chuckle and stole a kiss from Luke, then laced their fingers. “How are the injuries?”

“Ask me how my muscles are.” A quiet sigh slipped from Luke’s throat and he looked abashed. “This bed rest is driving me mad.”

“They’re surely inconsolable,” the werewolf grinned. He studied his friend for a while and traced his thumb over the back of Luke’s hand. Luke already looked much better, but he would still carry scars. And not just the physical kind. Something told him it hadn’t been a coincidence that Derek and Luke had crossed paths.

“You’re thinking,” Luke noted. “And probably not about how good I’d look as a demigod.”

“Guilty,” Scott admitted. “But this isn’t the right moment to talk about it.” His thoughts were circling a certain being, and somehow the alpha was afraid to ask more directly.

“Ah, yes? Just ask,” Luke suggested. “Worst case, I can simply say no and refuse to answer.”

“Okay.” Scott drew a deep breath and chose the direct route. “What do you know about the ninja who did that to Ethan, Jackson, Erica and Boyd?” There was no point beating about the bush. Even though his heart was in his throat, he’d asked the question that had been on all their lips for quite some time.

Luke pressed his lips into a bloodless line and watched, absent-minded, as nurses and doctors bustled about the corridor. The muscles on the back of his hand tightened, as did his whole body.
“I’d been wondering when you’d bring it up.”

“It’s important, and you know it. That thing hurt my friends.” Scott didn’t sound accusatory—just factual. He didn’t blame Luke for what had happened.

His friend visibly hesitated. He gnawed at his lower lip. Tension and nerves took hold of him.
“How solid is your grasp of Japanese mythology?”

“Not at all.”

“What tore through Derek’s pack isn’t a ninja in the usual sense. It’s what’s called an oni—though the term isn’t entirely precise. It’s actually a yōkai, basically a demon,” Luke explained, avoiding Scott’s gaze.

“Meaning?” Scott pressed.

“An oni isn’t inherently evil. In Japanese folk belief, they can take many forms—from dim, ogre-like creatures, to neutral spirits, to corporeal vengeance demons.”

“We’re dealing with the last kind, aren’t we?” Scott tried to make eye contact. Luke was a master at dodging it.

“That’s about right, yes,” his friend nodded, still watching the activity in the hall. “This oni is a vengeance demon. He’s driven by the urge to execute justice.”

“Justice for your grandfather,” Scott concluded.

“These oni can’t harm or kill good people. They don’t exist out of malice and hatred; they exist to avenge those who can’t avenge themselves.” Luke finally turned to Scott and gave him a reproving look. “Grandpa’s personal opinions have little to do with it and scarcely influence the oni.”

“I doubt that very much. He nearly reduced Derek’s entire pack, single-handedly, to a state worse than death,” Scott shot back at once. “Please don’t defend your grandpa.”

“I’m not.” Luke shook his head. “I’m merely stating that he, too, can’t give the oni false orders. Anything that contradicts its nature, it won’t carry out.”

“And what sort of order would that be?”

“Harming you.”

Scott blinked, nonplussed. He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“He can only hurt evil people. Bad beings. I’ve just explained that an oni isn’t automatically evil. He fulfils his tasks thoroughly and conscientiously, without mercy or leniency. He restores justice and tips the scales in favour of those who can’t do it themselves.”

“Luke, I’m as much a werewolf as the others, and I’m friends with Derek, with Ethan, Erica, Boyd…” He left Jackson out on purpose. He still hadn’t warmed to him, and the feeling was mutual.

“Trust me when I tell you he can’t.” Luke’s free hand moved to Scott’s left chest. “There beats a pure heart—honest and full of love. That’s something the oni can’t harm.”

“Luke…” Scott began, but his friend cut him off.

“I know the stories and legends. An oni is a force of nature. Not even all of you together would be able to destroy him. His swordsmanship is unmatched, his unarmed combat flawless, and he has abilities that overshadow even those of a werewolf. He prepares carefully for the confrontation, to emerge victorious. No one has ever managed to drive away those whose hearts are filled with righteous vengeance.”

“Vengeance can never be just.” Scott placed his hand over Luke’s. “What makes you so sure he won’t attack me? What if I tell you he’s already tried? Then what?”

“And? Could he hit you? Or were you able to dodge—succeed where others before you failed miserably?” Luke looked him squarely in the eyes. “He can’t, and I know it.”

“Where does that certainty come from? What if I protect those he’s hunting?”

“Then he’ll go around you. The oni will never lay a finger on you.”

“And how does your grandfather control him? You must know how to get rid of him. Please, Luke, there’s a lot at stake, and even if you dislike Derek, and Jackson—these are friends and acquaintances this monster is chasing.” Without noticing, Scott’s voice had slipped into a pleading, almost imploring tone.

“Once summoned, the oni remains until he’s fulfilled his task. No one can prevent that—not even you.” Luke took his hand from Scott’s chest. “The ultimate warrior won’t be sent back into the darkness he came from by begging or a sudden change of heart. What do you imagine—Grandpa snaps his fingers and he evaporates?”

“I was hoping for something along those lines,” Scott admitted. “Nothing is unbeatable. He must have a weakness.”

“No!” The werewolf flinched at the vehemence of his friend’s reaction. Luke had pushed himself upright in bed and released their clasped hands. “The oni is unbeatable. He has no Achilles’ heel.”

“You must be able to do something!” the alpha urged him, intense. “Please, Luke.”

Luke picked at his fingertips and lowered his gaze again. “He…” The Brit was visibly wrestling with himself. “The oni feeds on hatred. Grandpa hates all werewolves—hates the Hale family.”

“I know that, but…” Scott broke off mid-sentence. He studied his friend as he sat there, looking abashed. Joy, sorrow, pain and anger—all those emotions flickered across Luke.
“You strengthen him too,” he concluded.

His friend rubbed his thumb beneath his lower lip. “Probably.”

“That means when we’re in England—at your home—he’ll grow weaker?”

“Possibly.” Luke dropped his eyes. “Scott, I’ve already told you too much.”

“Then why is your grandfather letting you go? That’s counterproductive.”

“He doesn’t want to let me go.” His friend looked up again. “I’m going because I long for Hakim and I want to show you my home.”

“That’s not all, is it? You want to separate us.”

“No. Whether you’re here or not, whether Allison and Isaac support you—or Lydia—it wouldn’t change the end result. I can’t bear it when your beautiful face is eaten up with worry and grief. When you’re absent because you’re thinking about shouldering a responsibility you can’t—and don’t have to.”

“Luke, they’re my friends. Derek is my best friend’s soulmate, and I won’t let Stiles lose him.” Scott’s eyebrows drew down. “Or Ethan lose Jackson—or vice versa.”

“I know,” Luke said softly. “That’s why I want to buy them a little breathing room.”

Scott’s brows shot up in surprise. “You want to what?”

“Don’t ask why—it’s just how it is.” He sank back onto the bed and closed his eyes. “Scott, forgive me, but I’m tired, and this conversation was exhausting. The claw scars hurt, and I fear they’ll hurt for a long time—probably always. Forgive me for not being able or willing to say more, not even to you. I’m not working against you, if that helps.”

“A bit.” Scott regarded Luke, pensive. “Thank you.”

“Just don’t fixate on the hope that you can change something.”

“You can always change something.” With that, Scott gave his friend’s hand one last squeeze and stood up. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

“I’m glad.” It sounded sincere, but Luke didn’t open his eyes. “See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” He pulled the door closed behind him and exhaled softly. Secretly, Scott hoped his friend was lying—only pretending that this monster was unbeatable. He doubted it, though. He could sense excitement, anger, fury, hatred in Luke—but not a trace of a lie, and that worried him.

Chapter Text

By now people were used to the sight of Scott in a black Mercedes. No one at the high school asked questions anymore, except Coach Finstock, whose greatest worry was a small cash injection for the lacrosse team. That spared Scott a lot, but he missed out on plenty because of it—above all, his best friend.

The relationship between Stiles and him had noticeably cooled over the past few weeks. They didn’t argue, but they were no longer the inseparable best mates they’d been. Each had their little and not-so-little secrets—something Scott wasn’t used to. Inseparable—that was what they’d been. Now you could, at best, call them “good acquaintances”.

That state of affairs hurt Scott. He didn’t blame Stiles for what had happened. No one could really rein Derek in once he’d got something into his head. The only exception was Stiles—and even he only to a point.
It was just as hard, though, not to lay any blame at his soulmate’s door. Of course Luke wasn’t an innocent lamb. He’d kept a lot from them—especially from Scott. Even so, Scott couldn’t deny his partiality. He was pro-Luke.

Despite his inner conflict, Scott wanted to speak to Stiles one more time. It would have been unfair not to tell him, before tomorrow’s departure, what he’d found out. He owed him that.

He caught him at lunchtime and sat down with him. His appetite had vanished completely; it felt more like a heavy stone in his stomach. He sighed softly and studied his best friend closely.
Dark circles ringed Stiles’s eyes, his lips were chapped, and he was thinner than usual. Although Erica and Boyd had recovered, Jackson was presentable again, and Ethan was back to being whole, the worries hadn’t let up. You could see it in Stiles.

“You look like crap,” Scott stated bluntly. “Sleep badly?”

“Been better,” Stiles grumbled, nibbling half-heartedly on a single chip. “Big departure tomorrow, huh? Looking forward to travelling to the former centre of the world?”

“I’m curious to meet Luke’s dad.” Scott pushed his lunch tray aside and sat up a little in his chair. “To see if he’s really the monster Luke makes him out to be.”

“Hard to imagine. From how you described him, he sounded pretty reasonable.” Stiles waved a chip half-heartedly in front of his own nose. “Luke’s just… a difficult case.”

“There are undoubtedly easier people,” Scott agreed, scratching his nose with his index finger. “But I’m absolutely convinced I can change Luke for the better.”

“Good luck—right after trains run without tracks and pigs start flying.” Stiles sounded slightly bitter. He looked Scott straight in the eyes, and Scott almost thought he saw something like regret and jealousy there.

“Impossible tasks are my speciality, you know that,” Scott tried to lighten the mood. “But that’s not why I want to talk to you.”

“What then?” Stiles eyed him suspiciously, and it stabbed at Scott; that would never have happened before.

“It’s about the ninja,” Scott began—and Stiles’s face brightened at once.

“You actually found something out?”

“I did,” he confirmed. “It was hard, and I had to talk Luke round with angelic patience, but I can give you information.”

“Let’s hear it, then.” Stiles rubbed his hands. “What is that thing?”

“If I’ve got it right, it’s an oni—a kind of vengeance demon. According to Luke they can take many shapes, but in this case we’re dealing with a sort of avenging spirit.”

“Sounds delightful,” Stiles said dryly. “Vengeance for what—Grandpa being in a wheelchair?”

“That… Stiles, I’ve got a worry, and I’m sharing it only with you—with no one else. You have to swear you won’t tell anyone, not even Derek.”

“I don’t lie to Derek. You know that.”

“Of course. I just want you to keep it to yourself. Strictly speaking, that’s not a lie.” Scott gnawed at his lower lip. What he was doing felt wrong. But it had to be done. He didn’t want to lose Stiles completely.

“We’ll see. Out with it now, Scott—this is life and death, and I don’t say that for drama’s sake.”
A flicker of the old Stiles flashed through. It should have reassured Scott, but the opposite happened. Unease spread in him, gnawed at his insides, and a small voice in the back of his head tried with all its might to stop him saying more.

“I don’t think Gerard’s controlling it at all. According to Luke, he’s not capable of that. He summoned it and gave it its task, but he can’t force it to do anything. An oni fulfils its mission without pity and without remorse—but within its own fixed limits.”

“What do you mean? Gerard unleashed this thing on the world, it tears apart everything in its way, but he doesn’t control it?” Stiles looked at him, doubtful. “That’s a few too many coincidences for my taste.”

“Luke didn’t lie; I’d have noticed,” Scott countered, trying to hide the agitation in his voice. No, on this point his friend hadn’t lied—Scott was sure of it. He had a far worse suspicion.

“So who controls it, then? Father Christmas and the Easter Bunny on a rotation? If one’s off, the other covers, and otherwise Mother Hulda takes over? Come on, Scott, don’t make me drag it out of you,” Stiles pressed, impatient.

“I think…” Scott hedged. He didn’t want to say what he thought. Everything in him rebelled against speaking his thoughts aloud. He’d thought long and hard about it. Too many coincidences—Luke’s behaviour, his manner, the fact he was still hiding something from him. Scott wasn’t stupid. He knew his friend had secrets, and he hesitated to dig. Technically, Luke hadn’t even lied; his promise to have no more secrets from now on had indeed been kept—just not everything before.

“You think what?” Stiles prodded.

“Hatred feeds the ninja—gives him power and strength,” Scott explained, still avoiding the decisive sentence. “Once brought into the world, he apparently fulfils his task to the bitter end. According to Luke, no one can touch him.”

“That’s what we thought about Jackson, and about the crazy teacher, and Mr Harris.”

“Luke didn’t lie there either.” Scott took a deep breath. “I think the ninja isn’t here because of Gerard, but because of Luke.”

Stiles’s right eyebrow climbed. He tilted his head and gave Scott a serious look. “You’re telling me it’s enough for a teen to have unresolved trauma, project it as hatred onto someone, and that conjures a thing like this? Really?”

“Does that sound so far-fetched to you?” Scott kneaded his fingers, nervous. “Wasn’t it you who once asked me whether it might be possible to accept human victims as a given—or at least consider them? You compared it to my being a werewolf.”

Stiles fell silent. He couldn’t refute that line of argument. Scott knew it—just as he hadn’t been able to back then. Deep down he knew he was right. Luke felt guilty because he was hurting him indirectly. That’s why he wanted to go to England. He was giving Derek and his pack a breather because of Scott.

“Let’s assume that’s true. Everything you’ve just told me is true. Then there is someone who controls this oni.”

“What do you mean?” Scott couldn’t quite follow. According to Luke, it was impossible to control this monster.

“Your boyfriend.” Stiles pointed at him. “And by extension, you.”

“Why would Luke and I be able to control the oni?”

“Because he’s fed by Luke’s hatred. Cut him off from that source, and he’ll grow weaker and vulnerable. I hope. Maybe he’ll even dissolve completely—just into thin air. Puff?”

It sounded plausible. Depriving the demon ninja of his power source was a simple yet brilliant idea. If he was weaker, they could defeat or banish him.

“And what have I got to do with it?”

“Because you’re the only one of us with such deep access to Luke that he’ll listen to you unconditionally. You need to try to find out where his hatred comes from—why he’s so fixated on Derek, on the Hales, aside from the fact they killed his mother.” The way Stiles said it, it sounded almost off-hand—trivial, even.

“So I’m meant to play Luke’s psychiatrist, is that it? How do you see that working—healing a psychological wound that deep with a bit of talking it through?” Scott folded his arms and rocked his chair back and forth. “Do you hear how that sounds?”

“Impossible, I know. But didn’t you just say impossible tasks are your speciality?” A grin flitted across Stiles’s face.

Scott’s mouth twitched. “I yield. Defeated by my own arguments.”

“Like you did me earlier.”

They looked at each other and then laughed. A tonne-weight lifted from Scott’s shoulders. For the first time in weeks, they laughed together. Stiles seemed to feel the same.

“I’ll hold the fort here and make sure Derek doesn’t do anything else stupid. We’ll stay in touch by phone, agreed?” Stiles held out his hand.

“Agreed.” Scott shook on it. “Thanks,” he murmured.

“I know, I’m stunning.” Stiles’s grin widened. “Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“You too.”

“First: survive maths.” He grabbed his rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. “And then chemistry.”

Scott did the same. “We’ll manage that too.”

“There he is again—my optimistic friend with the sideburns.”

“Shut up.”

They looked at each other and snickered. At least that was sorted. As he’d promised Stiles: nothing and no one would be able to separate them—not even Luke.

Chapter Text

The time to leave had come. Luke had recovered enough to make a trip to England possible. He was still moaning and fussing because sport was strictly off-limits, but you could tell how much he was looking forward to getting out of the hospital. As nice as his friends’ visits had been—especially Scott’s—being confined to bed clearly hadn’t agreed with him.

“What will you do if you ever break something? A leg, say?” Scott asked as they strolled out of the hospital. He was carrying Luke’s sports bag (with a classic anime motif—Gogeta as a Super Saiyan).

“Put a bullet in my head.” Luke glanced over his shoulder and exhaled in relief. “One more week in that place and I’d have begged your mum for an overdose of sleeping pills. It was mega grim.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” Scott gave a crooked grin.

“No, it was much worse.” Luke rubbed his temples with the thumb, index and middle finger of his right hand. “I’m surprised Dad didn’t drag in a top psychologist as well to process this ‘terrible experience’.”

“Does your father actually...?” Scott didn’t want to finish the question. He’d made his peace, more or less, with the thought that Luke had been able to hold his own against an alpha—somehow—but it still felt odd to talk about it openly.

“Dad’s not stupid. He certainly knows, but he’s wise enough to keep out of it.” His friend shrugged.

“And he’s doing nothing about it? I mean, he’s seemed very reasonable so far—and concerned about you.”

“Yeah, Dad’s brilliant at that. So he’s already planted the image in your head as well—of the concerned father who has no time for his son but tries touchingly to look after him, within his means.” Luke’s eyebrows drew down and he reached into the pocket of his black jeans.

“He came across very reasonable and open with me,” Scott countered, stopping by the Mercedes. “Maybe give him another chance, hm? I mean, he’s even letting us stay with him.”

“Whether you lot are there or not, he won’t notice anyway. He’ll probably be at home five times at most the whole time—and then sleep through most of it.” With a press of the key fob, Luke unlocked the doors.

“You’re not exaggerating?” Scott followed suit and got into the car, placing the sports bag behind him, on the rear parcel shelf beneath the rear window.

“I know my father a bit better than you. He’s messed up quite a lot. You can’t really understand that, because you’ve got a lovely, cool mum who loves you and takes care of you.” Luke started the engine and put it in gear. “Your father may be a proper idiot, but at least you’ve nothing to do with him. Has he been in touch at all?”

“No, he hasn’t.” Scott could, for now, lead a life untroubled by Rafael.

“At least that’s settled.” Luke sighed in relief and steered the Mercedes onto the road. “Was Dad nice to you, then?”

“More or less. He also knows about us.” Scott braced for an outburst from his friend, but the only reaction was a furrow forming on Luke’s forehead. “Were you listening to me?”

“Dad’s not stupid. Why he seems to accept you is a mystery to me.”

“That’s a mystery to you? Maybe you’re just wrong in your assessment. Aside from that, how do you know he accepts me?”

“If he didn’t, you wouldn’t be sitting here next to me.”

Scott preferred not to ask what that was supposed to mean. For some reason it seemed better not to form too bad an opinion of Daniel Taylor until he’d stood in front of him himself.

“Why have you never actually asked me directly how I managed to almost kill Derek?” Luke changed the subject, eyes on the road.

“Because it would change how I see you?” Scott ran a hand through his hair. “Normally only trained hunters with experience manage that—and not…”

“Not a teenager, hm?” There was open amusement in Luke’s voice. “That’s exactly the problem.”

“Problem?” Scott tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Werewolves—supernatural monsters in general—think they’re so clever and so strong. Everyone believes that just because they see better in the dark, are faster and more agile than an average human, stronger and quicker to react, they’re practically invulnerable. And that’s exactly what makes them so predictable.”

Scott didn’t like the way Luke was talking. “Derek is an alpha, Luke. You know they’re basically at the top of the food chain. He was careless or too worked up—otherwise you wouldn’t have pulled off that little feat.”

“Do you really think so?” Luke shot him a doubtful look. “Believe me, Scott—I’ve lost too much to Derek’s family to leave anything to chance. He truly thinks he’s the super predator, but he isn’t. None of the werewolves are. They bleed just like a human and behave just like one. Derek thinks that just because he leads a pack he’s the elite—but he’s a zero.”

“Why are you telling me this, Luke? And why do you keep saying ‘werewolves’? I’m one too—same as Isaac.”

“Because Derek’s hoping you’ll bring me over to his side. And if you don’t manage it, he’ll try to take me out.”

The certainty in Luke’s words—and his serious face—shook Scott to the core. He believed what he was saying.

“The difference between you and Derek is that you didn’t want to be a werewolf. You weren’t born one. Lydia told me. You were made one. That stain doesn’t cling to you.” Luke’s features held a cold, pitiless cast. “And I don’t care what you are because you’re my boyfriend. Same with Isaac. And Aiden.”

“You’re using double standards, Luke.” Scott started to say something, then fell silent. A feeling of blazing hatred overwhelmed him. Disgust, revulsion and boundless rage. He could feel it—could practically smell it on his friend.

“I can afford to, Scott.” Luke turned his gaze back to the road. “One day you’ll understand me.”

The werewolf doubted it. The question wasn’t only whether he could—but whether he wanted to. Instead of trying to keep the conversation going, he looked out of the window and thought.

Something had created a hatred of Derek that even put Gerard’s and Kate’s in the shade. More than that, Luke hadn’t shown a trace of positive emotion. Scott didn’t doubt for a second that his friend would kill Derek—and grotesquely, it wasn’t even that which worried him, but the fact that he might succeed. That was exactly what he had to prevent.

“Don’t overthink it. As long as we’re together, he won’t dare do anything to me.” Luke’s right hand moved onto Scott’s thigh and patted it. “And nothing’s going to happen to me anyway. You’re looking after me.”

Scott laid his hand over Luke’s and took a deep breath. Since Halloween, everything had become a lot more complicated.

“Cambridge will suit you. And you’ll like Hakim too,” Luke changed the subject again, sounding cheerful and carefree once more.

“Think so?” Scott was, to be honest, glad of the change of topic.

“Of course. You even seem to have convinced my father. What could possibly go wrong?” He smiled gently. “It’ll just be a bit tight in my bed. Now we’re three.”

Scott smiled too. “He sleeps with you?”

“We’re practically inseparable.” The smile thinned a little and they turned off towards the airport. “I hope Dad keeps his promise.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not particularly keen on other people right now. You’ll see what I mean.”

Chapter Text

For Scott, the question was no longer if but only how. Luke’s extravagance seemed to know few limits, and it would have surprised him if that didn’t extend to his means of travel for overseas trips. His expectations were not disappointed.

Allison, Isaac, Lydia and Aiden were already waiting at check-in, where the whole group was waved through without delay. No elaborate procedure and no waiting times either. Though the airport was busy, the staff practically fell over themselves to look after them. Their cases were taken off them and they were all but escorted straight to the aircraft. To Luke, it all seemed perfectly normal.

“Is this another one of your credit-card tricks?” Scott hissed to him as they followed an exceptionally friendly lady.

“No, this is what you’d call a ‘caring father’,” Luke grinned cheekily back.

Scott rolled his eyes and let out a loud snort. If his prospective father-in-law was anything like his boyfriend, there would be friction. He’d been brought up plain and simple, and he was proud of it.

Not a regular aeroplane—a private jet, and quite a one at that. The snow-white model gleamed in the sunlight and offered everything one could wish for—and more.
The interior was spaciously fitted out, with room for several passengers. Alongside a mini-bar (stocked with non-alcoholic drinks), a giant flat-screen TV, a PlayStation 5 and an inviting dining area, the seats were red leather, fully adjustable and heated. The bathroom facilities were probably similarly decadent.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Luke invited them all, immediately planting himself on one of the seats. “The selection of games is smaller than at mine, of course, but still respectable.” He nodded towards a door leading to the rear of the jet. “There’s a sort of guest room with a bed; the chef will take meal requests. The loo’s back right.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and thought for a moment. “If all goes to plan, we’ll be in London in about ten hours. From there we’ll be picked up and taken to my place.” He slid the smartphone back and leaned into the seat, hands folded behind his head.

For the others, the luxury was breathtaking. Lydia in particular seemed to take to Luke’s lifestyle; she was used to belonging to the upper crust—at least in Beacon Hills. Aiden stayed close to her and tried to distract her from the opulence around them.

“So you really are as rich as you claimed,” Allison observed. “I thought you were exaggerating.”

“I never lie about things like that.” Luke patted the seat beside him and looked at Scott expectantly.

“I see your dad shares your taste for luxury,” Scott said, settling next to his boyfriend. The leather was pleasant—almost moulding to his back. “A normal scheduled flight wouldn’t have done it?”

“No.” Luke’s smile thinned, but also turned a touch triumphant. “Do you really think Dad would expose me to the risk of another attack?”

“Caring father—message received.” Scott raised his hands in surrender. “I’ll refrain from saying that again in future.”

“Good.” With that, his boyfriend stole a kiss and then saw to their guests. Aiden got a friendly clap on the shoulder and, together with Isaac, the three of them commandeered the PlayStation. Lydia sought out the onboard chef, and Allison joined Scott. Both watched Luke and the others.

“Hard to believe that someone with such a childlike enthusiasm for Japanese cartoons—and such a need for validation and real friends—was capable of nearly killing Derek.” She’d moved closer to speak quietly with him.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” he replied.

“About Derek?”

“About the cartoons.” At Allison’s questioning look, he added, “I’ve already had a little lecture that anime aren’t cartoons.” He shrugged. “But on that point, you’re right.”

“Even I’d have had a hard time with Derek.” She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth twitching slightly as Luke suggested Aiden and Isaac could be a team; he could shoot them both to bits, he said, because he had more game experience.

“I know.” Scott’s gaze drifted to the back of Luke’s head, lost in thought. He’d seen the soft sides—but also the hard ones. A vulnerable boy who longed for warmth and love, who wanted to fall asleep in his arms and whisper romantic little nothings when he thought they were alone. But there was also that angry flare in his face—quick temper, fury and, above all, hatred that marked his features on certain subjects. The disgust with which he spoke about Derek and the Hale family, his arrogance and the flaunting of his background, his wealth and the power that came with it. Like fire and water, both opposites existed in Luke.
“Sometimes I wonder how that’s possible.”

“I’m surprised he invited me,” Allison said, glancing over. “From what you’ve said—and what I’ve seen—he seems very possessive.”

“You’re his cousin, Allison.”

“I was also your first girlfriend,” she pointed out.

“I’ve thought that as well, but it doesn’t seem to bother him.” Scott worried at his lower lip. “Sometimes I feel he envies you—but doesn’t hold it against you.”

“Whereas you’re his first, and he’s mighty proud of that.”

“How do you know?”

Allison gave him a mocking look. “Do you really think Isaac wouldn’t tell me anything? For Luke there’s hardly any topic other than you and football.”

“I suppose I should be flattered, hm?” Scott muttered, feeling his ears start to burn. Somehow it embarrassed him that Luke put him on such a pedestal.

“It should make you think more about what might happen if there’s a break-up.”

Scott scratched his chin and sank fully into the soft leather. He didn’t want to think about it at all. A break-up wouldn’t just hit his boyfriend hard—it would hit him too. He loved him just as much as Luke loved him. No, they would never break up.

That one sentence from Allison occupied him for the rest of the journey. He barely registered Luke sitting down beside him, the two of them buckling in and taking off. He couldn’t really enjoy the excellent food either. How had she got the idea that they might break up? And why? He wasn’t going to let that happen. Never.