Archive of Our Own

Theo doesn’t believe in superstitious fairy tale stuff–as crazy as that is to say. He’s a chimera in a town filled with werewolves, kitsunes, banshee, and hellhounds, after all. Still, while he knows that the supernatural exists and works in mysterious ways, he cannot get himself to believe in things like shooting stars or wishing wells. They don't really make sense, in his brain: how can anyone make a wish–no matter how big or small–and just have it magically come true? Surely that amount of magic isn't free. 

Nothing in this world is ever free. Theo knows that better than anyone. 

Still, over the last few weeks, Theo has found himself standing in front of a wishing well, staring down into its depths. 

It’s like there’s this pull, this thread wrapped around his–Tara’s–heart tugging and tugging at him until his feet stumble their way through the preserve all the way to the well. 

The first time he found himself in front of the well, it was a bizarre experience–he didn’t know where he’d end up until he was there , staring at a seemingly normal well. He had sat there, that first time, and looked at the well for what felt like hours. He expected something to happen, maybe something bad–or at the very least supernatural. He expected to feel that buzz of magic in the air, to see some sort of creature climb out, to hear some siren song. Something. 

Nothing happened, in the end. 

Still, he followed that tug every time he felt it, even when he knew it would lead nowhere but that stupid old well. He followed it every time, so often that he found himself familiar with the old beaten path–so often that he could walk to that old well with his eyes closed. 

Theo’s not sure why he follows that tug, anymore–why he even bothers, when he doesn’t believe in wishing wells and isn’t entirely interested in ancient architecture. It’s a waste of time, because all he ever does is run his fingers over the stones, or sit cross-legged in front of it for a few hours. 

It’s… peaceful, though. Quiet. 

It’s one of the only places in Beacon Hills he can actually lay down and rest without cops telling him to get lost, or without accidentally running into Scott and his pack of do-gooders. 

It’s a place all his own, where can just get lost in his head for a few hours. 

Theo would like that–if it weren’t for the fact that the last time he actually had a safe place, he ended up killing the one person he loved the most in the world there. 

This place, it’s just like Tara’s bridge–just as quiet, and just as safe… and just as alluring. 

There’s danger in that, Theo knows. After all, the only reason he was drawn to the bridge was because three doctors in masks told him it was magical–told him it was special. 

He’s not sure what’s luring him in, now–not sure what hidden evil is pulling at his heart–but he knows that it’s not nothing. There’s something here. Something evil. 

Still, the only thing he ever finds–even with his supernatural senses on high alert–is that stupid old well. 

It’s not magic. It’s not an actual wishing well. Theo doesn’t believe in any of that. 

That doesn’t stop Theo from bringing a coin with him the next time he goes to the well, the quarter cold and almost heavy as he walks the path. 

When he stands in front of the well this time, it feels–different. Like there’s this buzzing in his skin, like his heart is flipping in his chest. It’s not a magic feel–at least not any magic he’s ever truly felt before. But it is supernatural, it is something. Maybe it’s older than anything he’s felt before–older than the Dread Doctors, older than Douglas. Maybe it’s ancient. 

… Or, maybe, it’s ethereal–something almost like air that’s so light, so delicate, but also unearthly. 

He doesn’t believe in wishing wells. He doesn’t. … But he can’t deny the feeling he gets when he stands in front of the well, coin in hand. 

Wish, something whispers in his ear–or maybe it’s just his thoughts, think your deepest, truest desire, and make a wish. 

A shiver runs up his spine, his hair standing on end. His breath catches in his throat, his–Tara’s–heart beating against his chest. 

Wish, the voice whispers again, so light and airy it practically runs with the wind. 

Theo doesn’t believe in wishing wells. He doesn’t believe in the magic of making wishes. 

He still squeezes his eyes shut, his body trembling, and brings the coin to his chest as he thinks about the thing he wants most in this world. He pictures Tara, his Tara: the little girl he used to spend his time with, lying together on their bridge as they watch the stars, or holding hands as they run to school with bags heavy on their backs. He pictures his big sister, his favorite person in the whole world, and he thinks with all his heart, please, if this is real… just let me see her one more time. Just let me apologize. 

And then he drops the coin into the well. 

There’s a rush of wind that flies out of the well and runs through his hair. It practically envelops him, like a hug, before it evaporates into–nothing. Everything just falls eerily still, like the wind just suddenly stops, everything in the world so silent and unmoving that it feels like time stands frozen.  

Theo’s too afraid to move, to breathe. Instead, he stands stock still with breath caught inside, his arms braced and his graze staring–wide eyed–down into the well. 

There’s nothing but pitch blackness as far as his eyes can see. It’s a blackness so complete, so intense, that not even his flared eyes could see through. It’s almost–emptiness. Like a void of nothingness that expands down and down forever. 

It wasn’t like this before. Every other time he has visited, it was barely more than six feet deep, the bottom clearly in sight. Even before he dropped the coin, he was sure that it had been there–that it had been normal. 

Panic thrums through him, flooding his mind. Instinctively, he backs away, stumbling over his own two feet in his haste to get away. There is something in the air that feels light, perfect, and yet that black void sends pure terror through him. His whole body is screaming at him to run, to get the hell away, to escape before it takes a turn for the worst. 

When there is enough distance between himself and the well, he turns his back to it and prepares to run. 

“... Theo?” A voice calls. 

Theo completely stills, his heart beat, beat, beating against his ribs so quickly–so painfully–that there’s a pain in his chest. 

Tara. 

That’s Tara’s voice. 

Theo slowly turns back to see Tara right there–right inside the well, her arms braced against the top. 

She’s young, just ten years old, and exactly how remembers her–before. Big brown eyes, bright smile, radiating happiness… Her, to a tee. She’s also wet, like she’s crawled straight up the well–or out of the lake. Her long brown hair is damp and weighed down on her shoulders, sticking to her face. Her cheeks have droplets of water. The clothes she has on are water-logged, completely soaked through. He can’t see her chest, but he’s sure that if he could… 

“Theo?” Tara whispers, her voice shaking. She reaches her hand out to him, outstretched. 

Theo’s wolf lets out a broken whimper, tears pricking at his eyes as he stares and stares and stares. 

This isn’t real. He knows it’s not real. It’s some kind of trick, some kind of illusion. Wishing wells aren’t real, and even if they are, they can’t just bring the dead back to life–can’t just pull them from thin air. 

Still, Theo finds himself walking closer, his legs trembling with every step. He lets out a shaky breath, reaching his own hand out. To touch her, to see if she were real. To grab her hand. To pull her out of the well and save her, the way he should’ve saved her from the lake. The way he was never brave enough to save her before. 

Their hands collide, and suddenly–he knows. He just knows : this is his Tara. This is the big sister he remembers. He pulls his hand away like he’s been shocked, to the dismay of Tara, but he can’t help but stare down at his hand in disbelief. Finally, he looks back up at her with tears in his eyes. 

“... Tara,” he breathes. “I can’t believe you’re here. I can’t believe–” 

“I can’t stay,” Tara says, softly. “You wished to see me. To talk to me. … Nothing more.”  She looks up at him with large, saddened eyes. “I… Don’t think I have much time.” 

“No,” Theo gasps. “No, no. You can’t… You–” 

“Theo.” Tara offers him a weak smile. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” 

Theo shakes his head, digging into his pocket despite knowing he only brought the one coin. “No. No, I… I can fix this. I can…” 

“Can you?” Tara whispers. Tara leans closer, like she is sharing a secret, as she adds, “we both know that type of wish–getting me out of here–is going to take more than a coin as payment.” 

Theo pauses before slowly looking up at Tara. At his sister–his dead sister, who doesn’t even have a heart beating in her chest. 

“We both know what it costs,” Tara insists, softly, “trying to have it all. Trying to… wish for impossible things.” 

They do. More than anyone , they know. 

“... I can,” Theo breathes out. “I can.” 

Tara reaches out his hand for him to take. It’s there, outstretched, just like it had been all those years before. It’s there, reaching for him, a silent pleading. 

 Theo moves forward almost immediately, moving his hand forward. Their fingers brush, and his heart swells as he realizes how close he is to righting his one big mistake–at how close he is to fixing everything. 

Except–his phone buzzes right before he can fully grasp Tara’s hand, and he’s pulled instantly away. His hands rush for his phone, and there, lit up across the screen, is a simple text notification: 

Liam: hey haven’t heard from you and a bit, hope your okay 

“Theo?” Tara asks, voice breaking. 

Theo looks up just as Tara stretches out to grab at his arm. He flinches away, his heart suddenly in his throat. 

“I’m so sorry.” Theo frowns. “I just wanted… I just thought…” He pauses, furrowing his brows, as his words fail him. There were no words–no explanation–that would be good enough to justify what he did to her. 

He knows the price it will take to bring Tara back, and he’s willing. God, is he willing. Something inside of him, though, knows that he can’t… Not until he says goodbye to a certain Beta. 

He couldn’t now–not when Liam is somewhere out there, probably checking his phone for his nightly sarcastic text from Theo. Not when he still believes Theo’s going to take him to school, stopping by Starbucks as they go. Not when he expects him to come back. 

Theo made a promise to Liam. Neither said it was a promise, neither really claimed it as one, but they both know: that night in the hospital, stuck in the elevator together as they were preparing to fight, they made each other a promise. Not to die for each other, but to fight with each other. 

Always with each other. 

This wish, this payment … It would break that promise. It would be Theo, done fighting. Forever. 

He owes Liam an explanation… An apology. 

Theo swallows thickly. “I can,” he tells Tara, “I can fix this. I just need to do something first.”  

“You’re going to free me?” Tara asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You mean it?” 

Theo nods desperately, practically hypnotized by her happy smile. “Yeah,” he says, “I’ll save you. I promise. I promise. ” 

“Okay…” Tara’s smile softens. “I… I trust you. I trust you.” 

Breath leaves him like a punch in the gut, his eyes bulging. 

Trust. 

Trust isn’t something he deserves. It’s not something he even knows he can truly keep up with, yet. And he definitely, absolutely, doesn’t deserve trust from her. 

Still… despite everything, she trusts him. She trusts him. 

“I won’t let you down.” He breathes out–and means it. 

__

Liam’s not sure what he believes in, really. Life is… confusing, in that regard. When he was little, he used to believe in Santa Clause, and God, and aliens. Then, when his dad–his real biological father–threw his mom up against the wall when she tried to protect Liam, he stopped believing in anything at all. Not god, not love, not innocence–nothing. Now, as a werewolf in a town filled with supernatural creatures that has a Nemeton that attracts even more supernaturals, it seems almost insane to not at least consider that anything was possible.

So, when Theo first mentions the wishing well hidden in Beacon Hills, Liam isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or gather up all the coins he can find. 

He’s not laughing now. Not when his favorite chimera is standing in front of him, out of breath, his hair all wild and his hands trembling. Theo looks like he’s seen a ghost, and his chemosignals are all wrong–terrified, but happy , too. Guilty, but excited. Liam doesn’t know what to make of it. Not even because there’s so many conflicting emotions, but because there’s even so many emotions on display at all. The chimera is normally so careful to keep his emotions in check, to keep them private. 

They’re written all over his face now as he stands on Liam’s porch, his chest heaving. 

“... Liam…” Theo heaves out a gasp of air, hand rushing to his heart. “Hey.” 

“... Hey,” Liam says slowly, frowning as he takes in the sight in front of him. “You okay, Theo?” 

Theo begins to nod, but pauses mid head-bob, like he’s suddenly not sure–of anything. He looks confused. Lost. 

Liam doesn’t like that look on him. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks, crossing his arms. 

“Nothing. Nothing.” Theo takes a large gulp of air, and then seems to settle–seems to at least breathe easier, anyway. “I just… I wanted–needed–to talk. To you.” 

Liam smiles despite himself, because–he likes that. The clarification. You, Theo says, but always seems to mean, only you, just you, always you. 

Liam likes being that, to him. His only … His always. 

“Well, you found me,” Liam says, trying to keep his ever-growing grin to a bare minimum. 

“So I have,” Theo smiles. 

For a moment, Liam almost forgets his concerns for the Chimera, lost in those deep green eyes and his ever-growing smile. So lost, like he’s drowning in a sea of green, his mind too busy whispering feverishly pretty, pretty, pretty, pretty to really think about anything else. 

Except, Theo’s smile falters the longer he looks at Liam–like Liam actually being there in front of him, flesh and blood instead of an idea, triggers a sudden panic that Theo actually now has to talk to Liam like he set out to do in the first place. Theo’s smile morphs into a frown that deepens and deepens as terror mixes with that confusion from earlier. 

“Theo?” Liam asks, his own smile dropping as he rushes forward. “What’s wrong?” 

“I…” Theo shakes his head. “I don’t… I don’t remember. ” He looks at Liam, panic in his eyes. “I don’t remember.” 

“Okay.” Liam hesitates before putting his arms on Theo’s forearms. “You’re okay. Okay? You’re okay.” 

“I-I don’t… I don’t remember. I don’t remember ,” Theo repeats, frantic. His heart is beating against his chest, his face paling. “It was important. I know it was important. Why don’t I remember?” 

“I don’t know,” Liam says, forcing his breathing to remain steady despite the swell of terror building in his chest that causes his hands to shake. “Why don’t you tell me what you remember, and we can go from there.” 

Theo slowly nods, letting out a shaky gasp. He squeezes his eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. “I… I was going to the well. I had a quarter with me I was going to throw in. And… And I got to the clearing, it was in sight… And-and then…” Theo frowns. “And then I was rushing here. When I was coming, I knew it was important. Like I had to talk to you, and then go back. But I… I don’t remember…” 

“Right…” Liam swallows thickly. “Do you still have it? The quarter?” 

“Huh?” Theo blinks, then frowns deeper, checking his pockets. “... No.” Theo looks up at Liam, his eyes widening. “No, I don’t have it.” 

 There’s a twisting in Liam’s stomach at that, this sudden and overwhelming gut wrenching feeling deep inside that screams that something was wrong. Every fiber of his being is screaming, alarm bells ringing in his ears at the thought that something had happened there–screaming that they need to stay far, far away. Even still, his mouth is moving before he can stop himself, and he finds himself saying, “Well, whatever happened, it’s got to be there. Maybe we should check it out.” 

Theo’s chemosignals explode out of him in a shock wave of equal parts terror and excitement. He stares at Liam, his mouth open like a part of him wants to argue–to beg not to go there–but instead he nods at Liam, his mouth sliding closed. “Let’s go, then.” 

Liam hates this. Hates that whatever happened has scared Theo so badly his body unconsciously reacts. Hates that Theo doesn’t remember anything about it, despite having the best working memory of anyone he’s ever met. Hates that Theo ran straight to him as if the world depended on it, yet for no known reason. 

Most of all, Liam hates that despite all of that, he still follows Theo out to his truck without a second hesitation because he would follow him anywhere–even to his potential doom. He’d follow Theo anywhere. 

___

Theo has a lot of regrets in life. More than most. He regrets killing Tara, regrets going with the Dread Doctors, regrets allowing them to turn him into this evil… thing, regrets killing Scott, regrets trying to manipulate the pack–trying to manipulate Liam , regrets killing Josh and Tracy. 

More than anything, he regrets bringing Liam out to the well now that he really remembers why he left in the first place. 

As he stands at the edge of the clearing, the well just in sight, he has a sudden moment of clarity. He remembers it all: the wish, the black void, Tara… the payment. 

His heart thrums painfully against his chest, his palms sweaty in his pockets.

They shouldn’t be here. 

Liam shouldn’t be here. 

Almost on cue, Liam takes a tentative step towards the well. 

Instantly–impulsively–Theo grabs Liam’s wrist to stop him. 

Liam’s feet freeze, his head turning to meet Theo’s. Liam studies him, studies his face and body language. His nostrils flare as he scents Theo, taking in his chemosignals. 

“What’s wrong?” Liam asks, turning to face Theo fully. He puts his back to the well as he does so, and–Theo hates that. He hates it. Something about it sends a wave of terror over him. 

There’s something in the air that wasn’t there before any other time Theo had visited the well. Even when he had the coin in his pocket, even when he had actual payment, it didn’t feel like this. 

It feels almost–sinister, somehow. 

Sinister, now that Liam is here. 

Sinister, now that Theo’s led someone else to this wishing well. 

Theo pauses, licking his lips as he glances over at the well. He can’t put into words the unease that rushes through his body, can’t explain why this scenario has his hands trembling–his heart thundering. All he can do is turn back to Liam and let out a trembling breath. 

“Let’s just go.” 

Liam studies him, his lips pressed together in a thin line. For a moment, he starts to nod his head in agreement, but then stops. “Why are you so scared?” 

He whispers the question, barely breathes it into existence, but it’s thunderously loud in the silence of the clearing. 

“I…” 

“The-o,” a voice sing-songs, light as the wind. 

Liam’s head snaps to the wishing well, instantly on red alert. He pulls away from Theo’s grip, turning his attention to the wishing well in the distance. They both scan the expanse of the clearing, but it’s–normal. 

“What the absolute fuck was that ?” Liam asks. He takes a hesitant forward.  

“Don’t.” Theo says, grabbing at Liam’s wrist, but Liam moves out of his grasp. 

“The-o...”

The voice– Tara’s voice–calls Theo’s name, but it’s Liam who is drawn forward. Slowly but surely Liam takes one step, then another, creeping forward. Theo should follow after him, force him to stop, but Theo’s feet are cemented to the ground. Fear grows in the pit of his stomach and he’s stuck in place, paralyzed. 

“Let’s just go!” Theo calls after Liam, but Liam either doesn’t hear him or doesn’t care. “Liam, stop! Liam!” 

“The-o…” 

Liam gets to the wishing well, and Theo feels his breath catch in his throat as he watches Liam place his hands against the top and lean over the edge. For a moment, Liam lingers there, and Theo’s forced to simply watch–simply wait for disaster to strike. 

He knows what’s coming–or, at least, he thinks he does. 

A payment was requested, a payment Theo promised… And here it is. It’s just–not Theo. 

Tears burn Theo’s eyes as he struggles to move his feet, struggles to scream out for Liam to run for his life, but he can’t so much as breathe. 

Liam leans forward, his feet barely on the ground as he examines the inside. 

“There’s… nothing.” Liam says, confused. He plants his feet back on the ground and pulls back from the well. Theo takes an immediate breath of air as Liam turns to face him. “Nothing’s here.” 

“Nothing?” Theo asks, and for a moment, euphoria floods his veins. 

Nothing’s there. Liam’s safe. Nothing’s there. 

Maybe the whole thing had been in Theo’s head the whole time. There was no magic to the wishing well, no Tara, no promise of payment–just Theo’s overactive imagination.  Maybe–

Suddenly a hand is reaching out of the wishing well; small and dainty and wet. Before Theo can react, the hand is around Liam’s wrist, dragging him violently back. 

A scream rushes out of Liam’s throat as he loses his footing. His free hand grasps at the edge of the well, but it doesn’t matter; it hardly stops him from getting pulled into the well and falling. 

The last thing Theo sees is the wide-eyed panic in Liam’s face as he stares at Theo–and then Liam’s gone. 

____

It’s a dark, endless void of nothingness. Blackness rushing past Liam as he falls. The sky up above gets further and further away. He should’ve hit the water by now. Or the ground. Or anything. 

Time doesn’t exist. 

It feels like he’s been falling for hours. Years. 

It feels like he’s been falling for seconds. 

He’s not sure what’s real. 

All he knows is the pitch blackness beneath him is threatening to swallow him up as the opening of the well–as his only means of escape–gets impossibly smaller and smaller the longer he free falls. 

He’s been trapped in a well before. He’s fallen from that height more than once, crashing deep into the watery depths below. 

This–this doesn’t feel like the other time. This doesn’t feel like merely slipping into a well. 

This feels like falling into an abyss. 

This feels like being sucked into a black hole. 

This feels like being trapped in nothingness. 

This feels… 

This feels like the end. 

He had screamed, at first, but now he just–falls. 

He falls, and he falls, and he falls. 

Endlessly. Forever. 

He should fight this somehow. He knows he should. 

Instead, he closes his eyes and accepts his fate. 

He accepts this darkness. This emptiness. 

He closes his eyes and lets himself fall. And fall he does. For hours. Years. Forever. 

Until, suddenly, something grabs at his ankle and his free fall abruptly stops. His back crashes against the side of the well hard enough to crack bone, and air rushes out of his lips. 

Liam looks up, eyes wide, and sees an out of breath Theo clutching at Liam’s ankle as if his life depends on it. 

“I’ve got you,” Theo heaves out. “I’ve got you.” 

Liam doesn’t have the strength to reply; not when air has yet to gather in his lungs and his back is still slowly stitching itself together. Still, he smiles up at Theo, because he knows. He knows he’s in good hands. He knows he’s safe. 

_____

Theo doesn’t believe in superstitions. In a world of magic, supernatural, and otherworldly phenomena, Theo still finds that he just–he doesn’t believe. 

He doesn’t believe in a lot of things, really. He doesn’t believe in superstitions, or luck, or fate, or God, or the afterlife. 

Really, he–doesn’t believe in anything that could give him hope. 

There’s no such thing as luck, because if there was, his sister would have survived. 

There’s no such thing as fate, because what fate would destroy a child who was nothing but good? 

There’s no such thing as God, because no God would allow for a monster like himself to exist. 

There’s no such thing as afterlife, because–Theo’s seen his hell. And he doesn’t believe that Tara would be stuck in a place so horrible. 

He doesn’t believe in anything, really. 

Except… Except, as he pulls Liam out of the well and holds the Beta close–impossibly so–he suddenly believes in love. 

He suddenly believes in true love. 

Theo wraps his arms around Liam tighter, and even though Liam lets out a pained whimper, Theo doesn’t dare release his hold–doesn’t dare let go.

“I’m sorry,” Theo breathes, “I’m so sorry.” 

Liam doesn’t respond–just buries his head in Theo’s chest and takes a deep, shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry,” Theo repeats, “I got you. I got you. Everything’s okay.” 

“What… What was that?” Liam finally manages, shakily. 

“I–don’t know.” Theo answers. Really, he should explain–should tell Liam about Tara, and the wish, and the promise of payment–but he just can’t find the words. “I don’t know.” 

Liam lets out a shaky laugh, though it sounds more like a cry. “I really thought I was a goner.” 

“You’re not going anywhere,” Theo says, “not on my watch.” 

Liam hesitates before slowly nodding. “Yeah,” Liam says. “Yeah, I know that now.” 

Theo glances down at Liam, taking in the certainty in which Liam speaks. Like he trusted Theo with his life. 

He–shouldn’t. 

If there is one thing true about Theo Raeken, it’s that he’s never to be trusted. He can’t keep a promise. He can’t be honest. 

He can’t keep people alive. 

“Liam,” Theo whispers, pulling away. “There’s… something I need to tell you.” 

Liam frowns as he unburies his head from Theo’s shoulder, glancing up at him.

“I remember making a wish,” Theo finally admits, quietly. “I remember wishing to see Tara one more time.” 

Liam studies Theo, his eyebrows scrunching up as he does so. “Theo–” 

“The thing is–she was there. She was right there. Exactly as I remember her. Exactly. And she… she was real. ” Theo’s voice cracks as he remembers the warmth of her hand under his–the sudden and immediate familiarity, like his hands remembered the exact feel of hers despite the time that had passed. “It was her. I know it was her. And when she said she couldn’t stay… When she said it would cost more to bring her back…” 

Theo trails off, but he doesn’t need to continue; one look at Theo and suddenly Liam knows. Theo knows he does, because the Beta’s hands move to his forearms and tighten. “You’re not going anywhere,” Liam says, seriously. “Not on my watch.” 

“But it was her, Li,” Theo whispers, pleadingly. “It was her. ”

“No, it wasn’t.” 

“You didn’t see her. You didn’t–” 

“Theo.” Liam takes a step forward, closing any gap between them. “Your sister isn’t here. She’s… She’s in a better place.” 

“Liam–” Theo tries, but the Beta cuts him off. 

“I know. Okay? I know you don’t believe. And I know that you want to fix what you did at the bridge. But she isn’t here. She isn’t just stuck in the water, waiting for you to finally help her out. She’s gone. She’s gone. She’s somewhere better.” 

“How can you possibly know that? How do you know–” 

“Sometimes things aren’t about knowing. They’re about believing.” Liam pauses, before resting his forehead against Theo’s. “So believe me.” 

Theo swallows thickly. He can feel the denial crawling up his throat, the questions, the bitter doubt. But–then he feels the warmth of Liam against him, feels his hot breath and his hands and his forehead pressed against his own, and the words die out on his tongue. 

Theo might be a doubter at heart, but–he loves Liam. He trusts him.

“Okay,” Theo nods. “I believe you. Always.” 

A smile plays across Liam’s lips. 

“Always?” Liam asks, teasingly. 

“Always,” Theo repeats, seriously–honestly. 

Liam pulls his forehead away, the smile slowly slipping from his lips as he studies Theo. 

“... Always?” Liam asks again, barely above a whisper. 

“Always.” Theo promises. “For you–always.” 

Liam sucks in a big breath, and for a moment, Theo thinks he’s made a mistake; thinks maybe he’s said something wrong. But then Liam surges forward, grabbing at Theo’s face haphazardly before slamming his lips against Theo’s. 

It’s a kiss that knocks all the air out of him. 

As that little bit of fear that Liam might not want him, might not like him in the same way, dissipates, Theo finds his hands tightening around the back of Liam’s jacket and weaving into his hair.

He holds Liam in that almost-too-tight grip, desperate to keep him close, to keep this moment intact for fear that it might slip away, and Liam doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, as Theo tests the waters and leans into the kiss, a moan reverberates from somewhere deep in Liam’s chest all the way up to their joined lips. 

When they finally break apart, gasping for air, a crackle of heat sizzles across Liam’s eyes, and Theo’s heart lurches against his ribs. 

Theo had imagined this moment, dreamt of it a dozen times, but none of those fantasies could compare to the reality of Liam’s body pressed flush against his, of sharing breath, of the way Liam’s thumb skims across Theo’s cheek.

And this time it’s Theo that drags Liam in again. The brush of their lips is tender and careful but the fervent echo of heat still lingers just beneath the surface. Liam’s mouth opens, the wet heat from his tongue sliding against the seam of Theo’s lips in a silent question. 

Theo’s lips part for him on instinct, and Liam’s tongue tangles with his. The taste of him, the shift of Liam’s grip now at his waist, has Theo thoroughly intoxicated. 

Theo eventually pulls away, breathless. His heart is thrumming violently in his chest. He can still feel the phantom pressure of Liam’s lips against his–can still taste the Beta against his tongue. 

“I…” Theo stammers, but words fail him. 

His head feels fuzzy as he tries to process what’s unfolding between them, but his brain sticks and all he can think about is how good it felt, feeling Liam’s lips pressed against his and how he wants to feel that ecstasy again and again and again. 

Liam likes him. Liam likes him. 

That fact almost has him pulling back in for more, desperately, like he needs to feel Liam against his skin more than he needs air to breathe. 

They’ve danced around this subject since the war, really. They spend their time together, hands linger on each other longer and longer. Their eyes meet across the room at every pack meeting. They’re always near each other, drawn to each other like a tether–never too far apart. Yet… they’ve never brought it up. Never spoke about it. Never brought anything to life. 

Not until now. 

Now, it’s all Theo can do to stop himself from throwing himself at Liam–it’s all he can do to keep himself from kissing Liam endlessly, to make up for lost time.

“We should probably figure out how to stop that demon that just tried to kill us,” Liam says, but his eyes are on Theo’s lips all the while. 

“Eh,” Theo smirks, pulling Liam in closer so that his lips move against Liam’s as he speaks, “I’m sure that can wait for a little bit longer.”