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The sun has long since dipped away by the time Liam makes it to the Lacrosse field. It's no sort of hindrance, and much less so with the stark glare of the floodlights setting the field awash in a bright white glow.
The bag of lacrosse balls drops to the ground beside him, and Liam hefts the stick in one hand. It's old, a secondhand thing he and his stepdad had found through a stroke of sheer luck at a garage sale when he was first getting into the sport. He remembers taking it home and watching his stepfather give it a once over, mending the frayed net and buffing out as many scuff marks as he possibly could.
He'd been worried he'd break it before he even made the team, hesitant to even accept it, but his stepdad hadn't shown an ounce of concern.
"Lacrosse isn't a gentle sport," he'd told Liam, setting the stick down on the table in front of him. "These things are built to last. If you remember to play smarter, not harder, you'll see results eventually."
Like most lessons directed at Liam, that one had taken some time to set in. He was good, damn good, even when he had just been starting out, and it had gotten him in trouble a time or two. Looking back, he thinks maybe it's his own hubris that had ultimately led him here, to this field on a moonless night, the animal inside whimpering.
He scoops a ball up with the stick expertly, weighs it in his hand, regards the goal the way one might regard a familiar opponent, and lets loose. The ball goes flying, landing in the net with near perfect accuracy, and Liam's shoulder muscles tingle with the familiar strain. It's easy, too easy, and he tries to muster the wolf, frowns when it merely flops to the side, tongue lolling out of its mouth like a lazy dog.
Eyes flickering, he lifts the corner of his mouth in a snarl at the dark sky, the moon nothing more than a thin silvery shadow above him. The wolf is listless and unhappy, tossing and turning and refusing to come when beckoned. Liam's much the same, merely a reflection of his inner self, as always.
He hurls another ball into the net, slightly off center, but just as quickly and with an ounce more of frustration. He's not certain what's worse--the full moon or the absent one: either way he feels gutted. His human mouth is always stretched too thin over animal teeth when the moon is out, toothless when it's gone, shuffling dead-armed back to the bench to lick his wounds.
Liam loses time for awhile, flinging his entire stash of balls across the expanse of newly kempt Astroturf, stooping forward to collect them when he runs out before starting all over again. He feels noodle armed, out of practice despite never actually missing a shot, and he runs his tongue over his teeth, grits them hard.
Maybe that's why he doesn’t notice the other person until they're right behind him. Things had been quiet, as quiet as they ever are for someone with impeccable hearing abilities, but one moment there's only crickets and the sound of Liam's breathing, and the next there's a heartbeat only feet away, a faint trace of familiar scent in the breeze.
Liam whips around, hurls the lacrosse ball in time with the speed of his backwards motion, sees the white blur of it go flying and then stop abruptly, clenched in a fist.
Theo smiles at him, that half smile that Liam wants to bite at more often than not. It's stupidly cute and a little evil, sharp at the edges the way everything about Theo is, even now. Liam takes in the way his eyes crinkle, the green gleam in them bright despite the floodlights overhead, and the tiny mole on his cheek that Liam likes to put his mouth on when they're kissing.
"Someone's jumpy," Theo remarks, examining the ball and tossing it once in the air. "You come here often?"
Liam rolls his eyes, shoulders relaxing a little bit. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" he asks. "Seeing as how only one of us here actually plays lacrosse?"
Theo shrugs, juggling the ball between both hands. "Hey, I come to all your games," he says, then tilts his head. "Or I did, anyways. Almost a shame you're graduating, huh?"
Graduation is in two weeks, more than enough time for Liam to have a crisis about it without the distraction of classwork or finals or even the constant anchoring presence of lacrosse practice on his weekly schedule. It's a sort of limbo, one he's been sulking in for months now, since the beginning of the calendar year, and once the whole business from the war had drained away as much as it was ever going to.
Scott and the others are long gone, away at college and overseas in Malia's case, out moving on and living their lives, expanding. Liam's just Liam, still stuck in a small town like a dog on a leash, unsure of where to go and who else he could ever hope to be, if anyone at all. This town and its magic cling to him, settling over his skin like a shimmery film, all consuming, inescapable.
He'd called Scott months ago, asked him how he'd done it, walked away after all those years of growing and fighting and coming apart, only to pack the car and leave town like everyone always did. Everyone except Liam, who looks in the mirror and doesn’t see a boy with a future, just a creature pawing at the door, waiting to be let out.
Scott had said something about it being time, about the natural progression of things or whatever, how he'd missed their home but that the world was so much bigger, so much more than just a town and a tree stump and a forest crawling with things that went bump in the night. Liam had wished he'd understood, could comprehend anything past the mantra of freedomfreedomfreedom licking white hot at his bones.
Freedom for Scott looks like higher education, vet school and new friends and a bigger, better life than what Beacon Hills could ever offer him. Freedom for Liam looks like something different, but the shape is unclear, a silhouette in the distance, an unrealizable dream. He can’t progress, he knows with a sinking sense of regret, when he's bound up so tightly in an unforgiving lunar cycle, a slave to the moon's many phases.
"How'd you know I'd be here?" he asks, deciding it's better not to bring any of it up. Theo isn’t graduating, had gotten his GED last month and been done with it, took a job at an auto shop some months back and rented a place from Peter when the news had dropped that he'd previously been living out of his car. There's a simplicity to it, Liam thinks, just being glad to have a life. Theo appreciates it, more so than Liam--Liam who grew up with a house and a family like the real boy he's not sure he ever really was--ever could.
"Don’t insult my intelligence." Theo seems like he's not going to elaborate further in that moment, just twirling the ball on one finger. "I know werewolves get antsy during the new moon too." He looks soft and unassuming, like someone's boyfriend, sneaking cigarettes and booze out to the high school lacrosse field to meet up and trade gossip. If Liam didn’t know him, he'd never have guessed about the blood on Theo's hands, the way his words bite harder than his teeth ever could.
It's been well over a year and a half since Theo had first come around, peddling a sob story and talking too soft to be authentic, to sweet to be real. Liam compares it, his memory of that Theo, the false one, to the one in front of him and can't connect them. They seem more at odds with one another than the Theo who used to fester beneath, vicious and bloodthirsty, a predator once circling, now ready to pounce. He thinks it's because he knows both sides intimately, too familiar with Theo's penchant for being hands on, whether with fists or fingertips; has been on the receiving end of both.
"You say that like you’re immune," he accuses, because Theo might be man-made but the DNA is still there, a double helix of wolf and coyote and no one with those patterns, not even Theo, can resist the pull of the moon or lack thereof. "You’re out here too, aren’t you?"
Theo smiles a little wider, some crossbreed of fondness and the staleness of an old argument, unwinnable. "I sensed a disturbance in the force," he replies. Liam regrets ever showing him any movies at all, especially the more classic, quotable ones. "Just because I can’t feel the moon properly doesn't mean I'm immune to you and your little 'moon swings', you know."
Liam considers throwing another ball at him, thinks about aiming right for the nose and hefts a ball onto his stick. Theo glances at it, eyes glittering.
"The net's over there," is all he says, shrugging, and Liam stiffens, grips the body of the stick with tight fingers before turning and launching the ball back towards the goal. It hits the back of the net with a heavy thwap, and Theo whistles softly.
"And to think I could've been ten percent less pretty if you'd thrown it at me," he says. Liam sighs, tossing the stick to the side and turning back to him, arms crossed. Theo only does stuff like this when he wants something. Granted, sometimes what he wants is just to be near Liam, the way dogs like curling up at your feet and napping, but it's barely been a day since they'd last seen each other. Liam can't scent any unease on him, and there's no tightness to his smile the way there is when something is roiling beneath, so his best guess is that Theo had remembered the new moon and gone out sniffing for Liam as a precaution.
"You just come here to watch, or were you actually planning on trying to drive me nuts?" he demands. It’s in his nature to complain, especially on a night like tonight, but Theo had made the right call by coming to see him. Liam gets stuck sometimes, tires himself out trying to squeeze through the cage bars, needs someone to come pry him out when he's wound himself up too tight and he can't slip loose again.
That's when Theo shows up, more often than not, rolling his eyes and sliding Liam free with careful, practiced hands. Sometimes he lets Liam curl up and withdraw, ashamed and bruised, other times he refuses. Regardless, he stays, and Liam comes back to himself, for a time.
"Haven't decided yet," Theo says, spinning the ball on another finger, casual. "It depends."
Liam sighs again, the first of many tonight, he's certain. "On what?"
Theo removes his eyes from the ball, meets Liam's. "On you," he replies, finally letting the ball fall and roll into his palm. "Even I need a minute to figure you out sometimes."
"Whatever." Liam's not going to fight him on that. When Theo puts his mind to something he's not easily swayed, and when that thing involves Liam--well, Liam would have a better chance of emptying the ocean with a spoon than steering Theo away from trying to psychoanalyze him. "You wanna give me my ball back?"
Theo regards him for a brief second, long enough for Liam to realize with a spark of irritation that he might have just shot himself in the foot.
"Nah," Theo decides, wrapping his fingers around the scuffed circumference of it. "I think I'll keep it. You've got plenty."
Liam bristles. "It's my ball," he retorts, knows he's being petty. Worse still, Theo's smiling without teeth, which never bodes well for Liam or for his temper. Some little voice that sounds far too much like common sense whispers that he's being had, but the human part of him is too on edge to listen and the wolf part is on its back, kicking its paws in anticipation of getting to play.
Stupidly, Liam wonders why it couldn't have been so eager just minutes before, when he was trying to work his problems out on his own. His wolf is a little dumb like that: single minded in its animal thoughts, only pleased by certain things and at some point since Liam had dug him back up, Theo had undoubtedly become one of those things.
"Mine now," Theo says, coolly. It's perfectly even, measured as though he was following a recipe in which the end result is just getting under Liam's skin and staying there, the bastard. Liam can't help but think that maybe Theo had been lying about not knowing why he was here. "That is, unless you wanna try and take it from me."
Ah. Logically, Liam knows he's being played now, that just because he's having one of those nights doesn’t mean Theo isn’t also. Unfortunately for the both of them--or maybe fortunately, given how pleased Theo looks with himself--Liam's not the most logical of people.
"You know I can take you," Liam reminds him without letting up on his glare. "You're not gonna win."
Theo considers that, a mock surprised look passing over his features. "Yeah?" he asks. "Maybe I want you to take me. How about that?"
Liam's cheeks color, the wolf panting gleefully as it springs to its feet.
He wants to play, it huffs, elated. He wants to play with you.
Liam's eyes flash, knee-jerk quick and he barely has time to see Theo's do the same before they're circling one another, Liam darting to grab the ball and Theo backing away, holding it just out of Liam's reach as he dodges each swipe of Liam's hand.
"Gotta be faster," he taunts, his entire face lit up like a party, inviting and a little wild. "Too slow, Liam. Too slow."
"Give it back," Liam hisses, not quite angry. His blood is pumping in his ears, and he wants to lunge every time Theo dances back another step, leading him in graceful circles around the field as they prance opposite one another. "C'mon, don’t be a dick, just give it back."
"Come and take it back." Theo challenges, scarcely breathing hard. There's a thrill in his voice and his scent, and Liam tracks it, follows its trail as Theo stares him down and twists away from his every attempt to reach out and snatch the ball back for himself.
Liam's wolf is wagging its tail, yapping like a stupid dog and not for the first time, he wonders if it can hear whatever's going on in Theo's head, whatever ridiculous cacophony of noises his animals are making in there. Maybe their creatures are barking at each other without their knowledge, yips and growls that sound like pick up the pace, kiddo and hand it over and I'll let you keep your teeth.
Liam nearly goes careening past Theo when he ducks into some fancy tumble and roll just to avoid a particularly aggressive lunge, and when Liam looks back Theo's grinning with teeth now, blunt but unmistakable in the light. He makes some strange noise, like a half-hearted sneeze that Liam's wolf emulates, and Liam ducks his head.
"Getting closer," Theo drawls, tossing the ball up into the air once more. "Quit holding back, c'mon. Don’t be boring."
Maybe it's the blithe taunting, the way Theo doesn’t seem to be taking anything seriously, low stakes or no, or maybe it's just the way Liam's been hoping for this, just a little: the chance to blow off some steam, to feel his heart beating fast on a night when his blood feels more like molasses than anything.
He lunges again, this time with a snarl, and Theo darts to the right, prepared, but Liam catches him with a stray leg, knocks his feet out from under him and Theo goes sprawling. The ball rolls away, just a few feet from reach, but Liam never even makes it halfway there, because there are arms wrapped around his legs and he goes tumbling down, following Theo until they're a mess of limbs and nubby fingers clawing at once another, grappling for purchase.
"Give it up," Liam hisses, trying to best Theo at his own game, slippery as he is. "I'm stronger than you, asshole."
"And I'm smarter," Theo says, choking on a giddy sort of laugh. He rolls himself over and on top of Liam with the leverage of one leg, tucking Liam's body beneath him. Liam struggles, his lower body yielding even as he continues the tussle with his arms and chest, trying to wrestle Theo off. He could, most probably, if it came down to the wire, but Theo's grinning pleased and a little sweaty above him, his gelled hair springing out of place and Liam feels warm, suddenly.
He slows until Theo's got him in a tight grip, pressed flat into the ground and arms rendered immobile, twisted beneath Theo's as he pants up at him. Theo just holds on tighter.
"Settle," he murmurs, and Liam's heart flutters. "Settle. I've got you."
Liam blinks at him, the warmth spreading throughout his chest like spilt coffee, trickling into his shoulders and down his arms until they're relaxing, the fight replaced with something buzzing and soft.
"I've got you," Theo repeats, a little quieter this time. He's brave, enough to rest his forehead against Liam's despite the blood still singing in his veins. His breath is hot against Liam's mouth and Liam feels so full with so little warning, brimming over with so much desire and affection it sends his head swimming and his own lips parting in awe.
He laughs, a single exhausted breath shaped by a smile he can’t hold back, and his wolf strains, wants to lean in and lick Theo's face in happy little strokes, rub its cheek against his.
Theo's eyes are open and Liam meets them again, sees the animals and the human beneath, basking in the desire he can feel starting to press tangibly against his hip and oh god--
Liam loves Theo so much it hurts a little, sometimes. It's a human thing, freckled with animal desire, soft until it sprouts teeth and claws and they have to ground themselves again in one another. Theo makes him feel like his bones are his own, like he belongs in them, like everything else is just decoration.
Liam kisses him, deep and hungry, the wolf still shivering beneath his skin. The sky is empty and dark, no sun, no moon, no stars above them and only ground below. Their fingernails are blunt, their teeth square, and Theo is so warm above him, bright and imperfect and Liam's, Liam's, Liam's.
They're alright. They're okay, human and animal parts all together as one and Liam has never felt more like himself.