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Boyd is hesitating.
Derek Hale looks expectant, while the other two newly turned werewolves watch on indifferently, their wounds already healing.
Boyd’s eyes follow the splatters of blood on the floor to the figure prone on the ice. Scott is breathing hard, the claw marks on his torso slowly bleeding, disconnected to the bruises that are already starting to change colors. His face is trapped in a grimace, but his eyes are focused directly on Boyd, pleading.
Boyd takes a moment to appreciate his new senses. He can feel the cold beneath his feet and smell the blood spilled on the ice. There's an insistent tug drawing him in Derek’s direction, mixed with impatience, and something in Boyd wants to submit and follow. And yet…
He takes a step forward.
Scott’s breaths expand his torso where Boyd’s hands are holding him up and he smells like sweat and laundry detergent. He doesn’t say a word, face set in a mask of pain every time they jar his leg on the way to Stiles' jeep. They don’t look back and nobody follows them.
They come to the jeep where Stiles is waiting impatiently. Boyd helps Scott onto the front seats of the car and wavers a moment, before following, ignoring Stiles' questions.
Stiles is crowing over what he perceives as a victory over Derek, but Boyd pays him little mind. Scott is smiling, where he's leaned up warm against Boyd’s side.
The newly made wolf in Boyd, that hasn't stopped howling for revenge since the bite changed him, is curled up and fast asleep.
*
Honestly, while Boyd was hoping that with the physical changes, his social life would follow, he isn’t quite prepared for what helping Scott might actually mean, as a chattering Stiles makes himself comfortable opposite him at the table. He’s speaking about some werewolf mythology; Boyd isn't really listening, because Scott chooses that moment to settle in the seat next to him, nudging him lightly.
"Alright?" he looks at Boyd questioningly, paying no attention to Stiles' warnings.
Boyd nods quickly and lets out an inaudible sigh when Scott smiles and looks away. There’s something incredibly disconnecting about being stuck in the shadows for so long and then suddenly confronted by the full force of a McCall smile. Scott has this way of looking at people that makes you feel like the most important person in the world. As much as it feels exposing, it’s also incredibly comforting.
Boyd is just grateful that his blush doesn't show easily.
*
With Boyd’s first full moon rapidly approaching and Scott’s control tested by his tethering relationship with Allison, Stiles falls into a researching frenzy.
The trio spends most afternoons either at Scott’s or Stiles’ house. Boyd makes no move to invite them to his own empty one. It’s not like it’s a home, not like the McCall and Stilinski households. Not like stretching out on a lumpy mattress in the guest bedroom listening to Scott and his mom breathing in the adjacent rooms.
They try many ways of keeping Boyd contained, including handcuffs, which he snaps accidentally while Stiles is putting them on, and chains, which he rips apart like paper.
The night of the full moon is clear and the moon bright.
Heavy chains binding them to each other and the floor of the McCall basement are decided upon, the doors locked by a twitchy Stiles, leaving the two wolves in awkward silence.
"So, I don’t think I told you this, but you've been dealing with this werewolf stuff really well." Scott is smiling at him so earnestly, but Boyd can almost feel the pull of the moon in the unusual feralness of it. It makes his blood run hot.
"Thanks."
"No, but seriously, what's your secret, man? Sometimes things feel so far out of my control, I feel like the smallest thing could set me off. "
What can Boyd say to that? Every time my fangs come out, I think of your smile? I used to get so mad because nobody would sit with me at lunch, but now your knee keeps knocking against my leg and all I can think about is pulling you closer? You say you're an omega, but whenever you're near, my wolf keeps thinking: Alpha?
He can't say any of that. He nods and looks away.
The full moon chooses that moment to come out from behind the clouds, bathing the room in its glow through the basement window.
In the shackles next to his, Scott’s fingers turn into claws and Boyd feels an answering snarl rise in his throat.
With the dull rattle of the chains, the other wolf is suddenly a lot closer. Boyd stares at the feral eyes a few inches away and remembered how easily Scott beat up the two other werewolves. He averts his eyes.
Both of them have their claws and fangs out, but Boyd feels content to wait on the other wolf’s decision. They could break out of their chains easily, that was clear. Break out of the room, and run to the woods, find some prey and hunt it down...
Something light touches the edge of his collarbone and Boyd freezes. The other wolf is scenting him, nose lightly brushing against his neck. Boyd lets out a high whine and Scott snarls in return. He nips him lightly on the shoulder and suddenly they’re tousling playfully, tugging on clothes and nipping on exposed skin. The other wolf finally pins him under his weight, claws pressing his body down. Boyd turns his head and licks the arm closest. This makes Scott grin and curl around him further. They fall asleep like that, ignoring the howls from the other wolves outside.
*
They wake up the next morning just like that; limbs tangled together, Scott’s face buried in Boyd’s collarbone. The sun is barely up, judging by Mrs. McCall puttering about in the bedroom. She had a late-night shift, Boyd remembers, probably just got home, unaware that two werewolves were currently using her basement as a bunker. Or that one of them was her son.
With that thought, Boyd becomes aware of how close to the other boy he had been sleeping. Scott is pinning him down with his weight and with the chains still binding them to the floor and getting more uncomfortable by the second, there is no viable way to escape the situation, except to wait for Scott to wake up.
There’s a sleepy kiss pressed against his collarbone and Scott looks up at him with a grin. He seems to read Boyd’s apprehension about the situation and tries to shift away, only for it to bring their groins flush together, where their morning wood is happily saluting the situation.
Boyd lets out a startled groan and Scott freezes above him, wild eyed. They continue staring at each other. Suddenly, Scott laughs.
“My arms are getting tired you know.” And Boyd can’t resist reaching up, chains clinking, and pulling Scott back on top of him, presing their lips together. Scott’s knee winds up between his legs and well…everything is over almost embarrassingly quickly.
They lay on the floor afterwards, sticky and blushing, but pressed closely together.
“Hey, Boyd?” Boyd gives a noncommittal noise. “I’m glad you came with me.”
Boyd presses a kiss against his hair.
“Me too.”
*
A few hours later, Stiles stumbles through the door, takes one look at their sheepish faces and chucks the keys in their direction, before stomping out, grumbling all the while about ‘stupid werewolves’.