Archive of Our Own ^beta

01

These are the hands of a killer, Liam thought resting against Theo's side, the two of them lying on Liam's bed and speaking in low tones about their days. Liam was listening to his heartbeat pounding strongly in his chest, his pulse loud where his ear was pressed against his sternum. His hands are covered in blood.

Theo's finger twirled a portion of Liam's overgrown hair as he hummed low in his chest and Liam felt the sensation travel through him. "What do you feel like for lunch?"

"I don't know," Liam let his eyes flutter shut as he rested more of his weight against Theo's indomitable bulk. There was a time when Liam wouldn't have been caught dead taking his eyes off of Theo, but now he felt safe in his company, certain in his knowledge that nothing would ever happen to him as long as Theo kept holding him so gently. Not like fine china, like something breakable and fragile, but like a family heirloom, precious and irreplaceable. "We could order Thai food?"

"We had Thai food for dinner last night," Theo reminded him. His hands migrated from curling locks of hair around his finger to burrow in deeper, bypassing the long unkempt strands so he could scratch at Liam's scalp and reduce him into a puddle of sensation. Theo's satisfaction was a bright spot in Liam's senses as he continued his ministrations, proud that he could give Liam this, at least. A warm body to lay against, a hand in his hair, somebody willing to expand his diet- what else could Liam ask for, really? "We could do burgers? Or pizza?"

"I can't decide," Liam said, shifting his legs so he could tangle his feet up with Theo's. "You pick."

"Fine," Theo teased, and Liam knew what was coming. "Salads and quinoa it is then." 

This argument was best had in the presence of the rest of the pack, gaping at them in confused shock as they traded insults and barbs, Liam lashing out and Theo deflecting his swipes easily, without even glancing up. This was the game they played, the script that they had rehearsed to perfection, and no matter how many times they ran their lines, it was always amusing. Fun to pretend that there was ever any question that Theo would do something that went against Liam's wellbeing or wishes because by now, they both knew that such a feat was one of the few things that Theo was incapable of doing. Still, it was fun to pretend.

"No," Liam moaned pitifully, playing up his distress for the very familiar game. Out of the corner of his eye, he could already see Theo's phone open to the burger place around the corner, putting in their lunch orders even as Liam leaned more of his weight against him and tipped his head back to glare up at him half-heartedly. "That's not a meal. That's like, a side dish at best. You make a pretty shitty werewolf if that's your idea of lunch."

"I'm not a werewolf," Theo said for the thousandth time, an age-old argument. His hands, calloused and dexterous and perfect where they rested in Liam's hair, restarted their back-and-forth motions against his scalp with just the right amount of pressure to make Liam's eyes slide shut and his breathing go slow and deep. "But don't worry, I won't subject you to that. I know you turn into a big baby if you don't get your daily dose of meat."

Liam shifted so he could tuck the crown of his head right under Theo's chin, slotting in place perfectly, their bodies made for each other. "Shut up. You love it."

Though his fingers didn't falter, Theo's chemosignals went syrupy sweet, endlessly delighted. "I guess I do."

02

These are the hands of a killer, Liam thought as Theo straddled his lap and placed delicate, feather-light kisses on his fingers, soft as butterfly wings on his knuckles, kneading at the callouses and nibbling at the tips of his fingers. His touch was gentle yet sure. His eyes, looking over the hands he held in a confident grip, were bright and yearning, watching Liam's every reaction. The sight of him took Liam's breath away. His hands are covered in blood.

"Theo," Liam's voice was hoarse, and he had to clear it to get around the lump in his throat. "Theo."

"I love you, you know," Theo murmured into Liam's wrist, his pulse point fluttering against his lips. Liam could feel the warm wetness of his breath, as his tongue darted out to lave at his skin. "I'm sorry that I make you doubt that sometimes."

"I don't doubt it," Liam assured, promised with every fibre of his being. "You don't have to do this to convince me that you love me. I already know it. I can feel it."

"Stiles is right," Theo said. In any other circumstance, Liam would have laughed at the absurdity of his boyfriend mentioning Stiles while he was straddling him in his bedroom and treating his hands like a gift from above. His fingers dug expertly into the meat of his palm, easing out tension that Liam hadn't even known was there. "I know that it's hard to trust me. And I deserve the suspicion and distrust. But I never want you to feel like this... like what we have is a lie. Because it's not."

Liam swallowed. Theo looked so earnest, so hopeful, that even if Liam didn't believe it he would have said he did just to get that uncharacteristic kicked-puppy look off his face. It didn't seem like an act. He wondered if Theo even knew that he was doing it, or if that was just the natural reaction of him believing that Liam thought his affection was a lie. "I know. I can feel it. Who cares what Stiles says? He doesn't know us."

Theo was silent. He massaged Liam's digits with firm pressure at the joints, head bowed as he focused on his work. Liam thought he was lovely like this. It had been a long time since Theo had looked like the viciously dangerous teen who had infiltrated their pack and ripped them apart from the inside. Now, he looked just like any other teen from Beacon Hills High, with longer hair and soft eyes and wearing Liam's shirt because it was soft and smelled like him. He smelled of home, and his hands, once the ones that dug into Scott's chest to tear up his heart, were handling Liam with more gentleness and love than anybody ever had in his entire life. 

"Hey," Liam said, and Theo looked up because Theo was always looking at Liam when he needed him to. "What does Stiles know? He thinks he knows everything but he doesn't. I don't care what he says. You don't have to treat me like some sort of prince just because of some dumb joke about whether what we have is real. I know it's real, and you know it's real, and that's all that matters. I love you and I don't think anything is going to change that."

Sighing deeply, Theo's shoulders slumped. He looked so relieved, and Liam wondered how much Stiles's stupid comment was weighing on him. "OK," he smiled. "I love you too."

Smirking, Liam wiggled his fingers, held still in Theo's hands. "But just because you don't have to treat me like a prince doesn't mean I don't like it."

03

These are the hands of a killer, Liam thought as Theo put a hand on either side of his face and tenderly brushed his thumbs across his cheekbones, his skin warm and his touch light. His hands are covered in blood.

"Fuck," Theo sounded breathless, his eyes skimming across Liam's face as if he had never seen it before. That made no sense, considering most of their time was spent together, and this morning he had woken up to Theo watching him, memorizing his face while he slept. "You're gorgeous."

"Shut up," Liam kicked him in the shin, lightly, but couldn't bear to tear his gaze away. Somewhere, thunder rumbled and the heavy storm clouds encroached. If they lingered any longer out here, they would get drenched, and wouldn't that be a hard thing to explain to Jenna? 'Sorry mum, I was so busy making out with my boyfriend in the middle of the street that I forgot that it was raining'. "Are you going to kiss me, or what?"

"Just let me look at you," Theo said. His hands were large enough to circle Liam's face, the pads of his fingers pressing into the tender points behind his ears. He could feel his heartbeat through his palms. Beneath the ozone of the oncoming storm, he smelled of desire and of love and impossible fondness, and Liam wondered how all of that could possibly be directed at him. "You're cute when you're flustered."

How could somebody whose hands had spilled so much blood hold Liam so softly? He felt at home in Theo's arms, warm and comforted and safe in his embrace. Sometimes, he expected to glance down and see blood, vivid red and fresh, dripping from his claws. As if all of this was a dream, and he was going to wake up any second and Theo's hands against his cheeks had never been cleaned, layer upon layer of blood from countless lives taken staining his skin and dying it rust-red, flaking off to taint Liam too.

He didn't answer, couldn't answer, emotion caught in his throat and rendering him mute. Theo took his silence for permission and dove forward to kiss Liam so feverously that it took his breath away, and Liam finally brought his hands up to wrap around his waist, holding him flush against him. They only pulled apart, breathless and giddy, when the first raindrop fell and landed on Liam's hairline, running down the side of his face to pool in the crevice of Theo's fingers still held firmly against his face. "I love you," Liam muttered against his lips because it didn't matter how much blood was on Theo's hands or how much he had changed. Liam loved him, and he needed him to know it. 

Theo smiled against his lips. He tilted Liam's head back with a hand under his chin and ducked forward to place a kiss on his forehead, right between his eyes. He cradled Liam's face in his hands and looked him in the eyes as if staring deep into the endless expanse of nothing and everything all at once. Liam wondered what he could see. When Liam looked into Theo's eyes, he saw the past and the present and the future and a life without spilled blood on his hands and a heart that stayed in his chest. "I love you too," Theo said. "But if we're going to stand here saying sappy stuff forever, we're going to get soaked."

"Way to ruin the mood," Liam rolled his eyes, and Theo dragged him forward to embrace him, heartbeat-to-heartbeat, uncaring by the rain splattering the ground around them.

04

These are the hands of a killer, Liam thought as Theo sidled up beside him and slipped their hands together. It was cold out, and his skin was chilled, but he clenched Liam's fingers like he was afraid that if he relaxed his hold, he would disappear. Liam liked it when Theo held his hands like this- it made him feel useful like his very touch could ground Theo when his usual tactics failed him. His hands are covered in blood.

"Hey," He said lowly, rubbing his thumb across the back of his hand. "It'll be fine, you know? All the guys on the team like you, and you'll have Alec, Nolan, Corey and Mason here too if you want to scram. I promise I won't mind."

"Scram," Theo muttered. "You've been watching too much Scooby Doo."

He looked nice, really nice. Lydia and Melissa had bullied him into one of Scott's old graduation suits, and the black fabric made him look ageless and severe. He hadn't shaved, an attempt to look older than the room full of celebrating lacrosse players and their families, and Liam had to resist the urge to kiss him as he ran an absent hand across the unfamiliar stubble as he surveyed the room. Liam wanted him to keep the suit on for as long as possible and wanted to rip it off him as soon as he got the chance in equal measure. "It's just an awards ceremony," Liam squeezed his hand. "Nobody is going to mind that you're here."

"That's not what I'm worried about," Theo said. "But if any of the members from the team who nearly killed you last week are here..."

He trailed off, and Liam winced. He had almost forgotten, in the flurry of getting ready for the Cyclones' end-of-season award ceremony, how during the game the week before he had suffered a blow from the opposition that he only survived because he was a werewolf. He hit the ground so hard that his vision blacked out, and when he blinked open his eyes, it was to see Theo leaning over him and looking down with a worried expression, having leapt from the bleachers and sprinted towards him at the moment of impact, as Coach Finstock blew his whistle and Corey, Nolan and Alec rushed to join them, Mason shouting profanities from the grandstand. It had only been Alec's firm grip on Theo that prevented him from tearing the opposing team apart with his bare hands.

"They won't be," Liam declared, "Don't dwell on it, OK? We're going to show our face, maybe have something to eat, hopefully get an award, and leave."

"You don't have to stay with me, you know," Theo was looking at him strangely, a tilt to his lips. "I don't need a babysitter. I'll be perfectly fine on my own."

"Sure, but maybe I need my arm candy," Liam tightened his hold on Theo's hand, a very pointed message- Liam wouldn't be letting go of him any time soon so he had better get used to it. "Have I told you how hot you look in that suit?"

"In Scott's hand-me-downs? Sure, whatever you say. But for the record, I'm more of a burgundy tux kind of person myself," Theo snorted. Somehow, he managed to make even an undignified expression so attractive. Liam wondered, idly, if he had only ever worn burgundy tuxedos because they were easier to hide the blood he spilt. Theo's expression sombered and he ran a finger across the back of Liam's knuckles. Yesterday, they had been bloodied and bruised, scabbed over where he had punched a wall so hard that the bricks had splintered. Now, they were pristine, untouched, and the slowly building warmth of Theo's hand sent shivers of sensation through him. "I'm glad you invited me. I want to see you get an award."

So did Liam. "I'm glad you came."

"Are you kidding?" Theo smiled, squeezing Liam's hand just that tiny bit tighter. "I hate these kinds of people but I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

05

These are the hands of a killer, Liam thought in awe as he watched Theo's claws bisect a Hunter, reaching deep into his gut to tear his organs into ribbons before yanking his hand back out in a spray of viscera as the Hunter collapsed to the floor, choking on his own blood, gasping for his last breath. His hands are covered in blood.

"Liam!" Theo's eyes were glowing golden and his fangs were bared as he rushed to Liam's side, falling to his knees beside him. "Hey, wake up, don't go to sleep."

"Don't worry about me," Liam said, despite the wolfsbane-laced bullet in his sternum and the fallen Hunters who had been lucky or foolish enough to face Liam instead of Theo fumbled fearfully for their weapons. "If you don't fight back, then we're both done for."

Growling in frustration, Theo lunged upwards and spun on his heel. A Hunter tried to rush him, a long blade in his grip, and Theo dragged a clawed hand across his face. The Hunter screamed as his face was sliced open, his eyes, lips and nose spraying blood as they were carved into. In a fraction of a second, Theo brought his other hand up and used his strength to tear the barrel from one of the automatic rifles pointed at him straight off the rest of the gun, the Hunter staring down at the useless weapon with horror as Theo reached for him next.

Slumped on the ground with his back against a tree, Liam watched in fascination. He knew that Theo was sometimes scarily competent and could master anything put in front of him, but he was rarely allowed to show off his fighting prowess, his ability to kill quickly and efficiently or to make every death a painful affair like the Dread Doctors had taught him. There was too much at stake. He tried not to kill now that he was 'reformed' or whatever, and hated the way the rest of the pack would look at him whenever he did, and worst of all he didn't want to give Liam a reason to send him back to the Skinwalkers Prison. No matter how many times Liam tried to convince him that he wouldn't even if the sword was still in one piece, Theo didn't believe him. So instead, he fought with a fraction of his skills, holding back and letting the rest of the pack make the decisions, killing only when there wasn't any choice. 

Now, as he watched Theo decimate a small group of Hunters on his own, rending flesh and spilling blood and taking lives, he realized that it was a good thing that Theo had come to beacon Hill's to infiltrate the pack, because if he had come with the intent to kill them outright, they never would have stood a chance. 

He was so fixated on the way that Theo's bloodied claws glinted in the moonlight that he hadn't realized the fight was over until Theo skidded to a stop beside him and dropped to his knees, already searching his pockets for a lighter, dragging over one of the destroyed rifles and breaking open the magazine for a bullet. "Hey," his voice was harried, urgent, but still tender. "How're you doing, little wolf?"

"Did you know that the moon makes you look like something out of a storybook?" Liam mused instead of saying, 'Oh, fuck, I'm in a lot of pain, get this shit out of me'. "Like, you know. An angel, or a deity, or something."

"Jesus," Theo laughed, relieved and understanding that Liam wouldn't be rambling like this if his condition was dire. "The wolfsbane must already be going to your head. You're loopy, babe."

"Babe," Liam grinned, pleased. "You called me babe. Do you know that your hands are really nice? I think about your hands a lot. Like, you used to use them to spill blood, but now you just use them to hold me."

As Theo ripped apart a bullet to extract the wolfsbane and set the lighter aside, he looked through his eyelashes up at Liam, and Liam felt his breath catch. He looked at Liam like he belonged in a museum, not on the floor of the preserve with a bullet in him, bleeding out on the ground with his boyfriend covered in blood. "For what it's worth, I like holding you a lot more than I like spilling blood."

"A lot," Liam replied, choked. "It's worth a lot."

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