Work Text:
“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Stiles folds his arms over his chest, watching Theo approach Jordan’s desk. His father clearly just so happened to forget to mention that Theo fucking Raeken returned from wherever he ran off to as shit got serious between them.
Theo doesn’t look any less surprised. “Stiles…”
Stiles forces himself to smile. “Hello, Life Ruiner.”
It’s not particularly surprising that Theo’s signature smirk returns the second Stiles acknowledges his existence. “Oh, calm down,” he drawls, leaning against the desk with crossed arms, “that was months ago. Besides…” Theo trails off, licking his lips, and gives Stiles that looks — the one that used to make him weak in the knees, that promised Theo would fuck him until Stiles forgets his own name. He nods, almost appreciatively, and flicks his gaze back up. “Your life doesn’t look too ruined to me.”
Stiles grinds his teeth. His stupidly pretty blue eyes are not going to make Stiles fall for him again. Neither will his compliments. Or the way he smirks. Or the way his jeans cling to his everything. Stiles came back because his dad asked him to help with the whole hunter situation, he did not come back for this. “Excuse me,” Stiles says, slipping off Jordan’s desk, “I have to go be somewhere that’s not here.” He feels like strangling Theo, and that’s just not a good idea in the middle of a police station, son of the sheriff or not. Taking a steadying breath, Stiles pushes past Theo and walks down the hallway. If stressed, hide in the restroom. So that’s where he goes, slamming the door shut behind him.
His legs feel like rubber, and Stiles manages to reach the sink only seconds before they give way. He grabs the edges, curling his fingers around the porcelain, and takes another deep breath. Theo has no right to walk back into his life and act as if he never fucking left in the first place.
Okay, he will give himself a minute to get his shit under control. One minute and not a second longer.
The door opens with a squeak.
Stiles looks up, narrowing his eyes at Theo’s reflection. He really shouldn’t be surprised. “Get a fucking hint, Raeken.”
“Why are you mad at me?” Furrowing his brows, Theo leans against the closed door.
Stiles’ knuckles turn white. “Are you shitting me right now?”
“Well, tell me what I did!” Theo moves and within a heartbeat, he’s right there, right beside him as if he never ran away. “Why did you leave?”
Stiles whips around, anger burning in his body. “I moved on after you fucking vanished,” he whispers, even though he wants to scream; god, does he want to scream. He had his heart broken before, but nothing hurt as much as Theo making him fall in love only to rip it all out the night he disappeared. It took Stiles months to put himself back together. Just being with Theo here risks shattering all of his progress.
“Vanished?” Theo takes a step back, and for what it’s worth, he looks genuinely confused.
Stiles scoffs. “Don’t—“
“They didn’t tell you.”
“Tell me what?”
Theo reaches for his hand, and when Stiles pulls away, he cups his neck instead. “You really think I would— could leave you?” That’s the thing, Theo was supposed to be his forever. That’s why it hurt so much. “Fuck, Stiles. You’re my everything. Leaving you, I—“ Theo cuts off, bitterness crosses his features, and he takes a deep breath. “They locked me in a cage with my dead sister.”
Stiles draws his brows together, unable to move. “Tara? What are you—“
“After they defeated the beast,” Theo says in a low voice, stepping closer and closer, “they— the skinwalkers. They did something to Kira’s sword. That’s how they could lock me away.”
They. They. Stiles’ fingers twitch. He wants to pull Theo close so bad, but he doesn’t understand what he’s saying, or maybe he doesn’t want to understand. “I don’t—“ Stiles stops, swallowing dryly. But he does. He does understand exactly what Theo is telling him right now.
“I could never leave you, Stiles. I love you,” Theo whispers, stepping close enough their bodies are pressed together, “more than my fucking life.”
Stiles sucks in a breath, tears burning in his eyes. It doesn’t make any sense. Why would nobody tell him about what they’ve done to Theo? Their relationship was safely tucked away in the shadows, under bedsheets, in the quiet of Stiles’ bedroom. “I didn’t know.” Stiles curls his arms around Theo’s waist. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have believed—“ that you left me. Stupid. He’s so fucking stupid. He should’ve pushed his friends more. He should’ve questioned them. But Theo was gone and everybody pretended he never existed, so Stiles did too.
“Hey.” Theo brushes the tears away. “It’s not your fault.”
“No, it is,” Stiles can hear his voice crack. “I doubted—”
Theo kisses him, swallowing his words. He doesn’t kiss him gently, not even lovingly. He crashes their mouths together, tongue slipping past parted lips. His hands trail to Stiles’ hips, fingers digging into his skin. It hurts, but the pain keeps him grounded, makes him feel alive. Theo makes sure his skin will carry his fingerprints for the next week, so every time, he looks at himself, Stiles will know Theo is still with him, never left him, won’t ever leave him.
Growling into his mouth, Theo slams him against the cool tiles as Stiles buries his fingers in the short strands. He won’t leave marks, but he might as well give as much as he takes. “Mine.” Theo barely pulls away when he speaks and presses him against the wall, caging him in, thigh pushing between Stiles’ legs.
“I love you,” Stiles whispers because that’s all he can do. “I need you. Theo, I—“
The restroom lights up without a warning, bright and brutal. Stiles squeezes his eyes shut, heart hammering against his chest. What the fuck?
Theo whips around, snarling. “Monroe.”
Shit.
Theo pulls away from Stiles when his dad calls for him; just in time too because only a moment later, the door to the restroom flies open.
“Kiddo,” his dad urges, gaze darting back and forth between Stiles and Theo, “I need you outside. Now.” He taps a finger against the door, and he nods because he knows. “Theo, no matter what happens tonight, do not leave my son’s side. Got it?”
“Got it, Sir.”
Stiles squeezes his hand tightly then follows his father out of the door.