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One thing Theo never got a debriefing on before he was first supposed to infiltrate the McCall pack is how batshit insane Beacon Hills is.
Since coming back to his hometown, Theo has had to fight so many supernatural (and human) threats that he thinks it should be breaching at least one humanitarian convention. If the apocalypse were to happen anywhere, Beacon Hills would— no doubt— be responsible in some way. Every way, most likely. In the year since cohabiting with the pack and somehow finding his way into the younger pack member’s good graces, he’s had the pleasure of facing: the Wild Hunt, a war with (what seems to fucking be) the entire human race, ghosts, these gross fairy things, fish people, zombies, rival werewolf packs, vampires, and witches.
Fucking witches. You would think they were living in the sixteenth century with how many have come out of the woodworks to set up shop in Beacon Hills.
Not all of them are bad, of course. Theo knows better than anyone that concepts like good and bad are too binary to put on complexities like the supernatural. Hell, maybe the only person on the planet able to make judgment calls like that would be Scott, and he’s the one who preaches that whole ‘Everyone deserves a second chance’ princess movie bullshit. So, while Theo can say not all of them are bad, he can confirm through firsthand experience that most of them are very annoying.
Annoying, and appear to be trying to actively ruin his life. Case and point: Liam.
Theo has been staying in the Geyer-Dunbar house since the pack found out about his complicated living situation, and Liam’s mom had practically held him hostage until he finally gave in and took the spare room. He still doesn’t refer to it as his room, much to Mrs. Geyer's chagrin. Liam seems content that Theo was living under the same roof, which is absolutely ludicrous considering their history with him knowing exactly what he is capable of— a year of good behavior shouldn’t have gotten him trust like that.
Theo had also come to the conclusion they’re likely each other’s anchors, but understanding any of that mess is so far beyond his cognitive abilities regarding emotional intimacy that he had elected to just… ignore it. When the world got rough, they were partners, and in the moments of calm, they were reluctant friends. Theo didn’t read into it more than that. Didn’t deserve more than that. Compartmentalization, just like Argent says.
However, it’s a lot harder to compartmentalize the intricacies of their relationship when Liam was currently sitting on his lap, trapping Theo on the chair beneath him. Couldn’t think much of anything besides Holy shit.
Theo sits with his mind completely blank for thirty seconds and conducts a manual reboot to go through the events leading up to this moment.
With the late afternoon sunlight filtering in, Theo was catching up on the last of his English paper while Liam was supposed to be out at practice. As much enjoyment as he got out of hanging out with Liam when he was home, Theo had no plans to repeat another year of high school. He usually attempted to finish schoolwork in their time apart so it didn’t eat into anything else. How Liam got anything done for school between sports, saving the world, and binging history documentaries, Theo will never know. His working theory is that he doesn’t. Whatever lacrosse scholarship Liam gets offered will be a lifesaver.
When he heard the clumsy opening of the lock and Liam stumbling into the house, he was typing up a conclusion to his essay. The sluggishness in Liam’s steps set his nerves on edge, but he waved it off as a difficult practice. Despite his werewolf stamina, some of those lacrosse practices had worn Liam ragged, and supernaturally terrible things tended to get Theo a phone call.
It's then that he realized practice shouldn’t have actually ended yet, but before Theo could move to go check what was going on, Liam was stumbling through the door to the room. Pulse spiked further when he smelled the distress rolling off him in waves.
Swiveling the chair around, Theo moved to stand with a What the fuck happened? on the tip of his tongue but stopped at the cutting motion Liam made through the air, effectively freezing him.
“Sit.”
Despite Theo’s vehement denial of the fact, his quick compliance to the command was evidence of how well trained Liam had him now. To call it embarrassing would be an understatement.
Liam staggered through the room and fell into Theo’s lap, getting himself situated there. They’re torsos faced each other, and Liam effectively caged him into the chair by wrapping his arms around Theo’s neck and locking his feet together. Pushed his face right into the juncture between Theo’s neck and shoulder, took a deep breath, and then completely deflated. All the tension seeped out of his body along with the scent of distress, now replaced by undercurrents of contentment.
More out of shock than anything else, Theo manages to stay silent for a minute of Liam latching onto him like an octopus. Eventually tries to unravel this mess with a hesitant, “Liam.”
Without missing a beat, Liam slurs out against the skin of shoulder, “Shut the fuck up. No speaking. Just…” Liam doesn’t finish, as he obviously has lost all effort of keeping up with the conversation. Instead resorts to burrowing his head deeper into the skin of Theo’s neck.
As much as Theo likes to think he is prepared for any situation— combination of immortal Dread Doctor trainings and literally going through hell and back— he is not equipped to deal with this. Instead, Theo hovers his hands in the air above Liam’s back with Stiles-levels of flailing before deciding his inability to function was going to injure his reputation beyond repair permanently.
“Are you dying?”
Theo figures that's the most pressing question.
“What did I say about speaking.”
Liam’s scent was overwhelming his ability to think, but the sarcastic snip clears his mind somewhat. The amount of annoyance he could incite in Theo was a supernatural ability of its own.
“I’m sorry, your highness, but when you stumble through the door acting drunk while trying to suffocate me to death like a boa constrictor, I’m allowed to ask questions,” he quips.
Sighing loudly— like he has any right to be the one irritated here— and crushing further into Theo, Liam mumbles out a quiet, “witch.”
The word jolts his body into action, and he pries Liam off to get a better look at the state of him. Grips his chin between his fingers to see his face, specifically eyeing his pupils. Outwardly, he looks fine, but a second sniff of the air reveals the burning undercurrent of magic against Liam’s skin. Theo couldn’t catch it when he first walked in over the overpowering scent of distress.
Eventually, Liam whines loud enough to startle Theo’s hand off his face, and he promptly goes back to burying his head back into Theo’s body.
“Liam,” he says, like speaking his name enough times will make any of this start to make sense.
A wandering hand travels up the back of his neck to grasp at the strands growing there, and he recalls a vague memory of Lydia listing off the best barbers in Beacon Hills because of how long she thought it was getting. The memory is quickly wiped away when Theo realizes he’s using this new grip as leverage to tilt his neck even further open. His pulse slips quickly from his realm of control into something rabbit quick.
“Liam. Explain,” Theo insists with a level tone that doesn’t match the mess of his thoughts. Probably some desperate show at control he doesn’t currently have.
“Y’smell good.”
Theo resists dragging an exasperated hand over his face because he knows it will only serve to further entangle them. Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize. Compartmentalize.
“Not really the explanation I was looking for here. You mentioned something about a witch and now you’re acting like… whatever the fuck you call this.” Trying to get any answers from Liam is usually difficult, but this is drawing blood from a stone.
“Mmph,” Liam huffs in lieu of an answer, so Theo decides to use his limited network of resources.
Mason picks up on the very last ring, and that in itself is very telling.
“…Hello?” The voice comes through the speaker laced with preemptive guilt, which tells Theo that Mason might be on track to be banned from carpool for the next two weeks depending on how good Mason’s defense is.
“Yeah, hi. Do you mind telling me why Liam has the linguistic capabilities of a caveman and is mentioning something about a witch?”
“…I might have some insider knowledge on that. Possibly. Maybe. Hypothetically.”
This is the type of phone call he’ll need to do breathing exercises after.
“Insider knowledge,” Theo repeats, dumbfounded.
“It’s going to cost you.” Mason barrels over the beginnings of Theo’s protests and continues, “If you want me to say anything, you need to promise not to punish me for it. Especially if it’s about rides.”
Theo is smiling from the force it’s taking not to crush his phone between his fingers. Liam, by contrast, is unperturbed; he’s completely content trying to nuzzle himself further into the fabric of Theo’s body.
“You cannot be serious.”
“Deadly, unfortunately. Finals are soon and it’s lacrosse season. Our carpool setup is my lifeline, so, do you agree or not?”
The next time he sees Mason, he’s gonna pop every tire on his car.
Stewing quietly for a few seconds, Theo finally relents. “Fuck you.”
“I’m going to take that as your begrudging agreement.”
Liam decides keeping his hands still isn’t doing it for him anymore and starts lazily running them through Theo’s hair, twirling some of the longer strands between his fingers. If his pulse were to thrum any faster, he thinks Tara’s heart would beat right out of his chest and back down to hell.
Hisses, “Stop stalling and get on with it.”
“Well, we had, uh, gotten wind of some weird people hanging out near the edge of the preserve from someone in our class who was gossiping about it, and Liam decided we should go check it out after school. Obviously, it ended up being two witches. So.”
“Why the hell didn’t you bring me along, or— at the very fucking least— alert me you were going to do something dangerous?”
Theo is reconsidering the idea of putting trackers on the younger members.
“Liam said not to worry you. And I mean, uh, I didn’t really get it, but I don’t pretend to understand anything in relation to the way you two work. You’re both like…” and Mason pauses for what Theo can only assume is going to be the most insulting word he can come up with. “Freakazoids.”
He was right.
“Great. Fantastic. Now, back to the witches you still haven’t gotten to yet, you mind giving me some details on that before I lose my shit?”
Liam, obviously satisfied with one side, moves to rub his head along the other side of Theo’s neck, and Theo makes an aborted grab at his shirt but doesn’t stop him. He remembers the distinct smell of distress and pain on the werewolf when he first entered the room, and this seems to be helping. However, that doesn’t mean Theo’s not going to reek of Liam after this, and he’s actively trying not to feel anything about that knowledge.
“We got to the spot after Liam sniffed them out, which they were obviously unhappy with going on how many werewolf-targeted insults they were throwing around. And you know how Liam is— he couldn’t leave it alone and got into a fight with them.” Mason must sense the anxiety in Theo’s silence, so he assuages him with, “But nothing serious happened! It was just a minor fight, and after one of the witches chanted something that made Liam collapse. Which of course scared me shitless, but then he just, like, got up and started walking home like nothing happened.”
“Did you find information on the spell?”
Mason huffs at Theo’s impatience, “Since every time I asked Liam where the hell he was going he kept mumbling ‘Theo,’ I figured he wasn’t about to jump off a bridge or something. I looked it up, and it’s a werewolf-specific spell. Something about not being physically apart from your… anchor? Maybe? It doesn’t specify that well here, and it’s all in Old Gaelic so the wording is strange. Anyway, it should wear off by tomorrow.”
Assuming he doesn’t die of a heart attack first, that should be fine. He used to be known as the Chimera of Death; this should be a walk in the park.
Theo promptly hangs up without saying goodbye, partly because he’s an asshole and partly because Liam is trailing his fingers up Theo’s neck again. Mason has enough dirt on him as it is, no need to give him any freebies.
“You were no fucking help at all. As per usual.”
Liam doesn’t register the jab whatsoever, instead manages the ludicrous statement of, “I think I’m getting high off your scent. It's like…huffing paint.”
Immediately alarmed, Theo yanks him back by the collar of his shirt.
“Excuse me?”
A pout worms its way onto Liam’s face at the new distance, and he struggles against him for freedom. “Not in a bad way. Just. S’good,” Patience ran out, Liam flashes his eyes. “Let me go.” Theo does.
It’s all a little disorienting, and Theo is grasping at straws to understand.
“Are you in pain?”
As Liam nuzzles back into place, he heaves a deep sigh of relief. “Not anymore.”
“…Is there anything I need to do to help?”
Liam playfully nips Theo’s neck, which makes him jump. The laugh he lets out over it puts a scowl on Theo’s face.
“Just— don’t leave,” comes out timid. The pang in his chest is reflexive, and Theo almost wants to blame it on being anchors.
Probably means they’ll be there for a while. “Is there any way you could do this somewhere more comfortable? My legs are numb. Might need to amputate them at this rate.”
Waiting for an answer before he makes any sudden moves, Theo stares forlornly at his abandoned computer and realizes he’ll just have to finish the essay in the morning.
Liam comes to a resolution, and a heavy sigh is the only warning he gets before he’s swept up out of the chair, held up by a hand under each leg. Lets out a strangled gasp as he’s deposited onto the mattress, and Liam follows closely behind to cocoon them under the covers. Manhandling Theo until he can lie down over the top of him, Liam has a proud quirk to his smile as he gets comfortable again.
Theo, by contrast, is on his way to popping a blood vessel from the force of the blush working down his neck.
“You easily could’ve warned me before you did all that.” Years of practice at emotional repression is the only reason his voice doesn’t come out a cracking mess.
“Wouldn’t have been as fun,” Liam mutters, but looks up at him through his eyelashes when he gets another idea. “Can I put my hand under your shirt— not in a weird way!” As if this entire situation hasn’t been batshit insane. “I’ll make sure to not, y’know…”
Theo actually does know, surprisingly.
Liam has been unfortunately very aware of the types of nightmares that plague Theo nightly since the forced cohabitation. Who would have guessed that having your sister’s heart ripped from your chest four-hundred-and-twenty-seven times might leave you with some residual trauma?
Pressing his palms into his eyes, Theo takes a deep breath.
“Yes. Fine. Do whatever.”
Theo can’t remember the last time he had ever been on the receiving end of this much positive physical affection, so some desperate part of him wants to hoard it like a squirrel preparing for an eternal winter. The more he thinks about it, the more pathetic he realizes it is. Even more pathetically, he knows embarrassment is not going to override his desperation.
As if on cue, Liam drags a hand along his side, head resting just under Tara’s heart. It stutters in his chest before he can grasp it under control again.
Liam seems entranced by the steady breathing of Theo’s lungs and drags his hand up and down to match the rhythm of it. Helps to ground Theo, too.
It’s a few minutes of that before Theo starts to feel his eyelids droop and a yawn crawl from his mouth; Liam doesn’t seem to be faring much better by his slowing hands.
It’s hard to will yourself awake when you’re surrounded by warm and calm and safety. With his anchor so close, both the wolf and coyote sides of him have managed to settle into some semblance of stillness— something Theo can barely remember ever happening. Life with the Doctors had left him in a permanent state of hyper-vigilance that even the McCall pack had yet to shake off. Well, until now.
“Is it too early to take a nap?” Theo asks because this level of normalcy is still alien to him; he was used to sixteen-hour days and spaced out sleep that would barely last longer than a blink. Liam is his resident expert on all things ‘normal,’ but if he listened to any input from Mason, that was bound to set him off on a wayward course.
“It’s never too early to nap.”
Sunlight is still filtering through the window, but Liam is further snuggling himself down into Theo’s side. There’s bound to be a Liam-shaped imprint in his body tomorrow when this spell wears off, but Theo believes it might’ve always been there. Predestined for the hurricane that is Liam Dunbar; the kid has a way of breaking into your life and putting his head through every closed door.
Liam’s presence is blanketing him completely— unconsciousness is inevitable. As his body begins to feel heavier, he can barely muster up the energy to care about the way Liam is drooling against his chest.
Theo snaps awake with an elbow to the face.
Holding his nose and groaning is muscle memory at this point. It takes groggily blinking at the night sky outside the window and then down to Liam’s moonlit face for reality to hit him. Manages to slip out of bed without alerting Liam by the skin of his teeth.
Theo stares at the wall for minutes before his brain starts to fully catch up with him. He hasn’t had sleep that good since before the operation— before his life was inflicted with the world of the supernatural. In a daze, he massages out the crick in his neck that comes as punishment for his complete stillness, but Theo is a little ecstatic about it. Before, the cricks came from sleeping on park benches and backseats. It’s an old sensation accompanying a new kind of normal.
Liam starts starfishing across the mattress again, which puts an effective stop to the drowning of his thoughts.
Oh fuck.
Didn’t Mason say something about no physical distance? Sure, Liam looks fine, but maybe the curse still hasn’t undone yet. Theo wasn’t sure on the timeframe of how long it was supposed to last. Taking his phone off the table, the glowing numbers read 5:38AM back to him. Which seems… tomorrow enough.
Liam cracks an eye open to watch him standing by the bed. Theo didn’t think he made any noise (had years of practice putting silence into an art form), but he must’ve felt a disturbance anyway. Werewolves are sensitive on a level even Theo can’t quite understand, so he neatly packs it away into the Unexplained Phenomenon of the Superiorly Supernatural box in his head.
“You’re awake,” Theo unintelligently notes.
Liam eyes the time glowing across his phone screen.
“We have two more hours before we need to get up.”
Another useless observation, but this one’s pointed.
Shuffling closer to the bed, Theo gets a better look at Liam’s face, still puffy with sleep. “Can you tell if the curse has worn off yet?”
Liam chews on his lip, considering. “If I say yes, will you still get back in bed?”
That catches him off guard enough to take a step back, but there’s barely a blip in his heartbeat as he grips at composure with both hands.
“Maybe. Answer the question. It’s not like you’re a very good liar anyway.”
“That’s just what you think,” Liam pouts, clearly offended. “But, yeah, I feel better. I’ll need to think of something ten-times as annoying to get them back for this though.” Hisses, “Stupid fucking witches.”
Theo is running through the facts in his head through his mental profile of Liam, and none of it is adding up. An error message popping up to the front of his brain every time he catches the way Liam is looking up at him right now.
“And you want me to get back in the bed. With you,” he confirms.
Liam’s embarrassment is working up towards mortification. Looking gradually more awake and definitely more flushed, he whispers, “Yeah it’s, uh, comfortable. I mean— you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want to, but I don’t even think you had a single nightmare last night.”
He was right, of course, but Theo’s lips twist into the beginning of a scowl despite himself.
“And how the hell would you even know?”
“Because I always wake up when you have a nightmare.”
Liam’s expression is the poster child for perfect innocence, and Theo can’t understand how someone can admit heavy revelations like that with no comprehension of the meanings they carry. Theo practically has the wind knocked out of him; the force of it carries him all the way onto the bed and under the covers.
When you grow up with your mouth being the only weapon someone can’t pry from your hands, being stunned into silence is a rare thing. But stunned he is. Liam wastes no time clinging to him as soon as he’s within reach.
“Do you want to stay in my bed next time?”
Liam, Theo thinks, will never be stunned into silence. Doesn’t know what the word means.
There’s a smile working it’s way up his face that Theo barely manages to fight down. He gathers the courage to answer.
“Okay.”