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Theo doesn’t actually know what time it is. He knows it’s been a while since they arrived at what was left of the McCalls’ house, long enough for everyone to have eaten what seemed like an entire town’s supply of pizza and collapse into piles to sleep (he’s pretty sure Scott didn’t even make it to his own bed and is just curled up on the stairs), but beyond that all he knows is it’s late enough that everything is under the kind of stillness that makes it feel like any movement could bring the whole world crashing down around them.
Despite (or maybe because of) the time he’s spent living out of his truck, Theo never really picked up on the art of being able to sleep anywhere. He’s too nervous, too wary, too full of the knowledge that these people don’t trust him, don’t even like him and while he knows the odds of Scott letting anyone actually hurt him are slim, he’s sure they’re not zero. Besides, whenever he does manage to get some sleep, it doesn’t last. Either Tara and her icy fingers creeping into his chest or a deputy and their relentless tapping on the window - or sometimes both on really bad days - always manage to wake him up before he’s ready, reminding him that the world doesn’t care about him being so tired he thinks he could collapse at any moment. Besides, the ice he’s on here is very thin and the screams that Tara might pull out of his unconscious throat would probably be enough to shatter it entirely.
And yet he doesn’t leave. He could; no one is awake to stop him and he’s pretty sure that no one would miss him but, rather than get up, he glances at Liam, curled up into a ball next to him, soft breaths huffing at his ridiculous hair. Instead, his head tilts back again, looking up at the popcorn-ceiling, eyes tracing patterns that aren’t there and lets himself listen. Listens to the gentle heartbeats of however-many-people had ended up cramming themselves into Scott’s house, a subtle orchestra of sleep, trust in themselves and each other, relief that they made it through, made it out, made it alive. Everyone finally getting to relax.
Or – not everyone. His senses reach out, trying to work out what the discrepancy is, someone’s heart slightly out of time (his own sister’s twinges in response, knowing) a puzzle piece jammed where it isn’t supposed to fit. Nolan’s folded up into an armchair at the other side of the room, his back to everyone (bad idea, Theo thinks, then you can’t see them coming) his breath short and stifled. The scent of fear pulses from him, as if he knows that someone is listening, waiting for a sign of weakness, getting ready to attack. There are too many teeth in this room, too many claws, too many people he hurt and tried to hurt for him to be able to relax (are you talking about Nolan or yourself) so instead he hides and waits it out. Theo’s eyes flick to the cardboard forced into the space where a window was, to the front door (to freedom) and back to Nolan’s chair. He sighs as loudly as he dares and stands.
This way, his head jerks towards the door, hand already falling away from Nolan’s shoulder as he walks out. Behind him are stumbling noises, hitching of breath and whispered apologies, indicating Nolan’s follow without him needing to turn round and check.
Nolan’s fear doesn’t abate when they get there though, stays a constant buzzing at the edge of Theo’s sense, even as everything else opens out and he feels like he can try and properly breathe. Away from the stifling, overwhelming feeling of pack (which Theo is doing his level best not to look at too deeply) the night is cool and he notices Nolan shiver slightly as he settles down on the bench next to him. ‘Next to him’ being relative, of course, as Nolan keeps a solid two feet of space between them (who are you wary of, Theo wonders, is this because of what you did or what I’ve done) but, to his credit, his heartbeat doesn’t pick up any more than it already has. He doesn’t say anything.
They sit in silence for a while. Theo, feeling something brewing under Nolan’s skin and perfectly content to wait him out, sighs again, tipping his head back to let the moonlight wash over it as he truly, finally, feels himself start to unwind. It’d been a long day – week, month, year – and he didn’t know what was going to happen to him tomorrow but, at least for now, there were no urgent threats. Nothing to risk him, or anyone in the house, or even anyone in the town. Just a night so still he could trace scents almost all the way to the preserve. For a while his eyes land on his truck, the thought of leaving once again worming his way into the front of his mind. He knows no one would be able to stop him, doubts whether or not they’d want to, aware that staying will no doubt involve some kind of punishment (how could it not, after what he’d done and who could argue that he didn’t deserve it, definitely not Theo himself) but once again finding himself unable to get up and just go. All he does is sit. Allows himself the time to appreciate the fact that he can, that he can sit and breathe and listen to the night air and feel the slight chill in it and know that he is safe (Tara’s gone the doctors are gone there is no one coming to open him up and look inside and point out what’s wrong) and wait for the rest of the world to wake up again.
No-one seemed to have conveyed this to Nolan though, still fidgeting next to Theo, twitching at every slight noise from both inside and outside the house. A couple of times he opens his mouth, appearing finally ready to let loose the thing inside him causing the discomfort, but each time he changes his mind and closes it again. Until, finally –
“What-", he cuts himself off almost immediately, face colouring as if he hadn’t meant to say anything at all.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” he asks, quietly, clearing having resigned himself to forcing this conversation into being. Theo doesn’t look at him.
“What do you mean?” The question is genuine, Theo not wanting to give an answer till he knows precisely how existential this particular crisis is.
“After,” Nolan’s face twists, briefly, “after what I did. I still don’t know why I’m here,” he gestures widely at the house behind them, “I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t – “
Theo feels his lips twist up in commiseration, very familiar with the feeling Nolan is trying to express.
“Depends. What do you want to happen?” At this Nolan looks at him, for the first time since they’d got outside, his eyes clear despite the confusion, searching for something in Theo’s face, as if the right answer is hidden in there. “This, these people are unflinchingly forgiving,” Theo continues, skirting past the use of the word pack like that might be the final thing to send Nolan vanishing into the night. “And you were scared. Before the Anuk-ite, right?” Nolan nods, almost unwillingly, still not dropping his eyes from Theo, Theo’s own focussed steadily on a loose thread on his jeans.
“You were scared and you didn’t know what else to do,” he picks at the thread a little harder, “people older than you and cleverer than you and more powerful than you picked you up and made you into a weapon for them. That doesn’t,” here he falters slightly, “that doesn’t excuse what you did, you still hurt people,” (Liam he means, but also TaraJoshTracey because really, he stopped speaking to Nolan a while back, is speaking to 9-year-old Theo and 13-year-old-Theo and 17-year-old-Theo and Theo-with-his-hands-covered-in-JoshTraceyTara’s-blood) “and you still have to find a way to make up for that.” His fist clenches against his thigh, and he swallows, looking back up to Nolan.
“The good news is I’m pretty sure almost every person who has tried to hurt Scott now has his phone number.” He avoids going any deeper than that because thinking about how he ended up in the camp with Peter and Deucalion and Jackson rather than the Nogitsune and Kate Argent and Monroe herself. “You’ll figure it out Nolan. You wouldn’t have been invited at all if anyone really thought you were a threat.” With this Nolan lets out what seems like all of the breath in his body, as if he had been holding it the entire time Theo had been talking, and finally, finally, his heartbeat calms down and his scent tips a little closer to relaxed. Theo keeps studying him, as his eyes drop closed and shoulders lose some of their tension, so he doesn’t miss it when Nolan mumbles towards his knees –
“What about now?”. Theo’s brow furrows, trying to piece together what he means now when Nolan follows it up without prompting, “What do we do now?” The use of ‘we’ doesn’t go unnoticed and Theo wonders how much he’d given away with his speech, how much Nolan had already known or been able to piece together about Theo’s place and his past. Theo shrugs.
“Dunno. Whatever comes next, I guess.” If you’re going through Hell, keep going , his brain supplies, a relic of the Doctors’ education for him, something that he’s not entirely sure holds up anymore. Lost in his own thoughts, he almost misses Nolan swaying alarmingly close to him before catching himself at the last second.
Theo runs his eyes over him, “you should go try and get some sleep,” he says gently, cataloguing how Nolan’s fear has melted into sheer fucking exhaustion, “god knows you’ll need it for when that lot wake up,” he jerks a thumb back into the house. They grin at each other, remembering the chaos that had been Melissa McCall’s living room this evening as people reunited and celebrated the fact that they were all there and alive and together and it had worked and it was over. His smile fading, Nolan nods once, definite, and stretches into a stand. He looks lost for a moment, as if debating what kind of goodnight is appropriate following a no-holds-barred-soul-baring conversation about whether or not you could be forgiven by a pack of werewolves after trying (succeeding something at the back of Theo’s brain whispers) to kill them. Theo just lets his face fall into a gentler smile and waves him off, hoping that Nolan will at least be able to make it back to his chair before he collapses.
For his part, Theo doesn’t move. Still not able to give into sleep he stays, watching the barest hints of sunlight begin to peak over the horizon, ignores the hints of icy fingers feeling their way into his chest reminding him that really, he’s on borrowed time and lets himself just be. Ignores the itch under his skin, the coyote-instincts telling him to run and hide and closes his eyes, letting the slightly-muffled heartbeats and intertwined scents of the pack lull him into the closest sense of peace he’s felt since at least coming back to Beacon Hills. Reminds himself, once again, that Scott had called him to go help Liam and the others – and yeah, maybe, it was just a matter of “who can we afford to lose” or just “who’s left” but Theo knows the bond between beta and alpha is like parent and child and knows that if Scott really didn’t trust him, he’d’ve had no idea anything was going on. It sounds a little too close to the advice he’d been giving Nolan earlier, about how he wouldn’t have been invited if anyone thought he was a threat and Theo is a little too tired to properly examine the feelings attached to that so instead, he takes a deep breath in and lets go of as much as he can.
Clearly, he managed to let go of more than he thought, as before he knows it, he’s startling himself awake again. The remnants of whatever dream had wormed his way into his consciousness already fading away in the face of what he’d woken up to. Which, as far as he could tell, was probably some kind of hallucination (could he even be drugged anymore) or – honestly, it’s hard to think of anything else because he is staring directly at Liam’s head on his lap. Liam’s nose is pressed into Theo’s stomach, his arms are around Theo’s waist and his head is in Theo’s lap. What the fuck. For lack of anything else to do, he curls his hand into Liam’s hair and, again, what the fuck. As far as he knew he and Liam had made it to “not actively wanting to kill each other” but this felt like he’d missed a step, or seven, or the whole flight of stairs.
And then Liam is twitching, burrowing his face somehow further into Theo’s stomach, yet simultaneously also managing to press further into the gentle hand carding through his hair. Eventually though, he gives in to the curiosity burning in his stomach and nudges him a little harder.
“Hey,” he whispers, “Liam. What are you doing?” Okay, yes, there may have been better ways to work up to that but Theo has barely slept and is very confused at his sudden lapful of sleepy werewolf so really what more do you want from him. Liam doesn’t seem to hear him anyway, only snuffling further into Theo and tightening his grip where the pads of his fingers are pressed into the strip of skin under his t-shirt.
“Liam. Liam, what are you doing,” he tries again, scratching slightly at his scalp which seems to just relax him even further, to Theo’s both amusement and the hints of something stronger building in his chest. Trying again, he curls his hand slightly tighter into Liam’s hair and skates his other hand up Liam’s arm to nudge his shoulder. Finally, Liam makes a noise that sounds too on-purpose to be sleeping and Theo asks again.
“Thought you w’re leaving” Liam mumbles, muffled where the words are being spoken into Theo’s thigh. “Di’n’t want you t’go.” A small burn of… something makes its way into his chest at sleep-fuzzed words and almost-aggressive constant contact, as if Liam genuinely believes Theo is about to make a run for it at any second, as if Theo would ever be capable of unpeeling himself from Liam and abandoning him on the McCalls’ porch. He doesn’t say any of that though, only smiles, something different from what he gave Nolan earlier, something small and private and genuine that only Liam has ever been able of summoning out of him.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises, “go back to sleep.”