Archive of Our Own ^beta

Tara never said anything. 

That was part of the point–more or less. It was supposed to be a loop of endless pain (on top of immense remorse.) But. Once.

She opened her mouth, and Theo smelled death.

"My heart.”

It was only once. But Theo played it again and again and again. Every time his heart rate increased: "My heart.” And every time his heart skipped and jumped and stopped. My heart my heart my heart my heart my heart.

-

Theo has come to the conclusion that he has not owned himself. Not for years.

Not his heart, not his body, or his mind. He was made into something else–he’s something else.  He’s been used to hurt and destroy, made to corrupt and manipulate.

He was cold. It was a natural effect of being constantly numbed to horrible instances. It was also fear, fear of falling out of line–of failing them. 

He was cold.

Liam pulled his hand once. He remembers the warmth from sweat and sweltering California summer nights. It wasn’t particularly nice, it was a hard yank and then he slipped away. But, someone wasn’t using him–Liam was helping him. 

He knows it was only because Liam was now alone and Theo was there but…

He thought about it later, when it was all over. He had a fond memory of it. Maybe the first fond memory in a decade. Felt like he’d started to defrost after years of being someone else. His hand smoothed against the other as if something magical happened.

-

Liam punched his nose, and his cheek, and along his jaw. Violence is all they really knew with each other. (Communication through fists is still communication.)

The adrenaline and blood was crawling over his face warming him like a sunbeam. Honestly, like the sun never could. It felt easier to be close to him after that. Like fighting each other as part of an improvised plan was bonding. Maybe it was. Theo doesn’t know much these days. 

But he does know there isn't anything he wouldn't do for him.

-

Theo gets shot in the leg with an arrow. It goes straight through the flesh on the back of it–his calf. He falls, shaking. His vision blacks for a second before he’s crawling up and resting on a tree.

Lone hunters get bold sometimes. 

That’s when he smells a familiar speeding toward him, and blood rushes in his ears when he realizes that he knows Liam like the back of his hand.

“Theo,” he whispers. Theo didn’t know he’d closed his eyes, but now it’s too hard to open them. "Theo," Liam half pleads, half growls. 

His eyes flutter open, tinging yellow, claws digging at the dirt ground. 

“I think it’s poisoned,” Theo says, voice cracked and raspy. Liam looks like he’s panicking–he sounds and he smells like he’s panicking. The rapid heartbeat, wide darting eyes, and frantic buzzing anxiety in the air gives it away. Theo breathes deep. “Liam, calm down.”

"I’m trying," And he is. There’s an obvious effort going in to keeping fear and especially anger at bay. He can tell he’s focusing, on calming down, processing one thing at a time. 

But he needs help–Theo can do that. He can help. Theo scoots himself to sit straighter on the tree. “The hunters will give up soon, you won’t have to worry about me much longer.”

That snaps Liam out of his focus. Bad, bad thing. "What? Won’t have to–Theo."

“What?”

“You really think I’m worried about the hunters right now? I don’t care about the fucking hunters–” Liam’s heart skipped. He cares. “I care about what’s happening to you."

His heart didn’t waver or stutter, not this time, his voice didn’t either. Theo’s eyes went wide. Liam inhaled big and held it, darting back and forth between Theo’s eyes, flickering between green and yellow.

Theo swallowed, hard. “What-”

He couldn’t even finish saying or asking or whatever he was doing, because Liam clamped a hand over his mouth, bringing his left leg between Theo’s, and resting a hand on his chest, right over his heart. 

Theo scanned Liam, questionably, noticing that Liam’s eyes were elsewhere. Then listened, rustling, four heartbeats coming closer. Oh.

Liam doesn’t understand what he’s said apparently, and how Theo is not used to closeness, and how he’s definitely not okay with the claws pricking his jacket, trying their damndest not to retract. With glossy eyes, his heartbeat races. (My heart, my heart, my heart.) Four hunters, two of them, Theo hurt, I care about what’s happening to you.  

Theo heaves. It’s too much too fast, more overwhelming than waking up and passing out during surgery, over and over again. More exposing than having his organs on display. Liam sends him a pleading look and he realizes why Liam’s hand is over his chest. To calm himself down. With. Theo’s heartbeat. 

He stops breathing. 

His heartbeat slows and maybe that’s not the best decision with poison crawling up his leg. It’d be awhile before it gets to the heart. Probably. Hopefully. 

Liam calms down just as Theo hears the hunters enter the approximate 30 foot radius. He blinks and clenches Theo’s jacket as he gets close to his ear. Theo flinches.

“I’m going to knock them out,” he says so low that he barely picks it up. The ringing in Theo’s ear was getting louder. “Stay here and out of sight.”

Theo tenses, warmth at the end of his ears where it met Liam’s breath. “Okay.” Liam pulls back some, he nearly shivers. Theo digs his nails farther in the dirt. “Hide behind the tree line. Make them come to you.”

And Liam was gone. Theo is trusting him. To come back without blood on his hands; to keep his golden eyes. Trust has always been a fickle thing with Theo, but… maybe just once.

But once can make a habit. Trust is something people crave, it’s only human. Theo doesn't think he’s as human as Liam is. He lost it a long time ago. (How much is too much rewiring? When do you become something less than?) 

He hears thuds, and small yells, before Liam is rushing right back to his side.

“Okay, okay,” He’s panting, high off the adrenaline. His human blue eyes scan over Theo. That’s when he notices his heart is too slow, and the ringing is loud, and the pain is numb. Too much to feel. “I’m gonna–”

He rips the denim from around the arrow, looking at the damage. He starts mumbling to himself. “It went- it’s straight through okay. Okay.”

Theo doesn’t dare look down. Liam grasps his knee with one hand and snaps the back of the arrow off with the other. Theo groans, rolling his head back into the tree.

“I’m sorry,” Liam whispers, before taking the bloody arrowhead on the other side of Theo’s calf in his hand and yanking it out.

Theo bites hard on his lip to keep himself from anything more than a whimper. Liam is taking the ripped fabric and tying it tightly around Theo’s calf and picking up the arrow. 

“Can you drive?” Liam asks. 

“I can," Theo breathes. “Not sure if I should."

Liam looks at Theo, a scared glint in his eye. Theo gazes back about to reassure Liam he could make it work, before he feels a firm hand on his leg again. Theo can’t see it in the dark, the pain going up his arms, but he can feel it and he can smell the bitterness on Liam. 

“Does that help?"

Theo blinks, blearily in the dark. Then slowly nods looking into the deep, full eyes staring back at him. “Yeah.”

Liam picked him up, arm wrapped tight around his midsection, supporting Theo's arm on his shoulder. Something deep in Theo wanted to shove him away, tell him to fuck off, tell him he can walk on his own. Deep down he really wants to hate how every step he takes relies completely on someone else. It makes him feel weak, pathetic. Like he’s a failure. 

He only frowns outwardly. Keeping his breathing even and his wolf in the forefront. He doesn’t know why he asks, but he does.

“Did you mean that?”

Liam’s pulse stutters, his face saying more than the beating in his chest. “Yes.”

Theo Raeken hates the fucking smile on his face.

They stumbled to the car, Liam taking Theo to the passengers side in an interesting turn of events. Theo’s brows scrunch together.

“What are you doing?” he asks, settling himself into the seat. 

Liam leans into him, slipping the keys from Theo’s pocket. “Driving.”

“You don’t do that,” Theo frowns. God, the pain was striking. He was overwhelmed with the smell of blood, his nose stung with it. His eyes screwed shut, trying to stop the spinning.

Liam looks on with concern. “I am now.”

He shuts the door, and Theo settles his head there. His brain was pounding into his skull. He lifts a hand to his face, trying to push it back.

Liam settles in the driver's seat. Theo can hear him turn the car on and fumble with the seat mechanics. 

"Liam." he urges, a growl escaping his mouth, fangs pinching his lower lip. The wolf in him was getting more desperate and whiny. The poison sears through his leg like a burn.

“Sorry, sorry,” Liam says, pulling his phone out, dialing someone, and then placing it in the cupholder on speaker. It rings while Liam precariously pulls out of the parking lot and swiftly to the road.

The phone picks up. 

“Hello?” Mason’s voice echoes in the car. “What’s up?”

“We need your help, can you meet us at the vet?” Liam asks. “Please?”

Theo thinks it’s stupid how he slaps the please on. Like he won’t agree to it otherwise. Which he might not, all things considered. Him, considered.

“We?” he asks. There it is. Theo could almost scoff. If moving didn’t hurt.

Liam bit his cheek. “Uhhh…”

He accidentally off-roaded on Theo’s side of the car, screeching the tires back into place. It was agonizing ly painful. That little swerve caused a loud moan out of his mouth, feeling the poison in his entire leg.  He hissed and gripped the dashboard. 

“Who is that?” Mason questioned, very worried now. “Are you with Theo?”

“...Yes,” Liam seems to admit. Like a teenager caught kissing the bad boy across the street. Which he guesses is pretty accurate minus the kissing. He keeps glancing at Theo worriedly. “I found him in the woods, shot by hunters.”

Theo thinks Mason would reply back with “You should have left him there.” But he didn’t. And Theo thinks this unfortunate near death experience is bringing out his self loathing side. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe one day he’ll stop thinking that.

“Shouldn’t he have healed by now?” Mason asks, obviously exasperated.

“It’s poisoned,” Theo croaked, eyes rolling in pain. He started heaving. “And it’s spreading.” Liam presses on the gas more. “You just started driving, I don’t think you should be speeding.”

“You’re dying right now! Do you realize that?” Liam yells, and speeds up more.

“Yes, I know what dying feels like,” Theo answers, seething. He’s sweating profusely and it sticks to him like a blanket.

Liam tenses, easing off a bit. Theo smells his remorse.  The scent of blood wasn’t so powerful anymore. In fact, he was starting to feel…good. His head stopped pounding, his leg only ached.

“I’m on my way right now,” Mason announced, awkwardly. “Don’t die before I get there, if you can manage that.” He hangs up promptly, and Theo imagines he has a pep in his step. Maybe he just hopes he does. 

“This is not how I imagined your first driving lesson to go,” Theo says, turning the mood. He doesn't know why he’s still talking. “You’re doing great.”

“That sounded sarcastic,” Liam says, smiling nervously. Theo looks over at him, his beautiful blue eyes trained on the road, his soft hair flowing free. He looked so pretty, his heart ached.

“You look so pretty,” he murmurs, looking up at him from his head on the dash. He continues to stare, wishing he could touch the tufts of his mullet.

Liam’s eyes go wide, pulse racing. He glances at Theo, “What did you just say?”

Theo makes a noncommittal noise, humming. He looks away. “You know, I feel fine.”

Liam scrunches his nose up. His heart pangs. “You’re definitely not.”

The headache had ceased, his leg was numb. He just felt so dizzy. Everything started to spin around and around. He wishes he’d gone on a merry go round. He wants to giggle. Horses going up and down, round and round.

“I just feel so…dizzy,” he announces aloud, sitting back in the passenger's seat. He smiles all the same. He feels light as air. Every weight off his shoulders, completely stress free.

“Theo, what’s wrong?"  Liam asks, voice dripping in concern. 

“It feels good, like… so-” Theo starts, and suddenly stops, extreme nausea washing over him. He dry heaves and then r etches all on the floor. Black bile and blood spills into the car and down Theo’s white shirt and blue jeans. Liam yelps . He’s saying something that Theo couldn’t hear over his refreshed headache. It rings like church bells. It crashed against his cranium as if someone was beating his skull. He holds his head together. Make it stop, make it stop. 

His vision started to blur, dark spots here and there. He couldn’t see two feet ahead, especially not so late at night. He precariously reached a hand out, and his vision wasn’t black anymore. Instead he saw Tara, holding his hand. 

He screamed, then everything went dark.

Outwardly, Liam saw his body go limp, eyes twitching, completely unresponsive.

“Theo!”

-

Theo Raeken does not love.

More specifically, Theo Raeken does not love Liam Dunbar.

Maybe he looks too long. Maybe it's the residue of wanting too much, leftover ambition. Maybe it’s loneliness, the ache in his chest. But, he does not love him.

(This is what he tells himself every time he wakes up too hot from a dream. Ones where wanting swells up like a balloon and he’s afraid to pop. Dreams where he’s slipping his fingers through Liam's hair, or undoing the buttons on his shirt. And Theo would never think of this–that as a big deal if the sigh from metaphorical Liam didn’t leave him melting. 

Everytime he wakes up from those dreams he curses everything. Everything that made him soft and weak and everything that made him want even more in those dreams. He only gets close– closer proximity in his mind. Like the only thing he can dream of is gentle, tender touches and nothing more. It makes him more mad than anything. Because it’s true. He’s sick of the violence from his claws–but for once he just wants to close the distance completely. Even in a dream, even if it’s something he’d never do or actually want. 

He just wants it to be fake, so so bad. So when he wakes up he scrambles in the front seat and he drives thinking about anything, anything other than his bleeding heart. And he avoids Liam for the day and makes up an excuse the next.)

-

Liam screeches to a stop in front of Deaton’s Veterinary. He runs from his seat to Theo’s, turning his body to look him in the face. Please, don’t be dead.

His face is slightly splattered with black blood and his chin is flush with it. But his eyes, they're completely open and unblinking. But his pupils twitch. And his hand, Liam realizes. He’s alive. But he doesn’t know for how much longer. 

-

Theo steps into a memory, a time when he dropped Liam off, and Liam told him the same thing he does every time:

“You know you can come in?” With a nervous glint, and giving Theo an easy out. One that he usually takes. But he looks at Liam’s watery blue eyes, and feels a crack in his shield. 

“Okay,” Theo says, and it’s probably the hardest thing he’s ever had to do. Worth it, from how Liam continues to talk, nervous energy woven around him replaced with excited jitters. He unlocks the door and Theo follows and it’s relief.

Theo remembers this. Remembers it like it was yesterday.

-

Liam picked him up, carrying him into the shop. He settles him on the couch, while he gets everything off the examining table. He wants to just shove everything off, but the amount of times they’ve done that has definitely cost some inventory. 

Liam scoops and settles him on the table, starting to take his shirt off. (He really didn’t imagine it happening like this.) Liam pops a claw, ripping it off. He didn’t even need to take his pants off. The poison had spread to his hip, black tendrils making their way up to his heart. 

Liam muffles a whine, biting his hand. His claws scratch the table, and he wants to throw something. This is so bad. Bad, bad, bad-

Mason slams open the door. He rounds the corner hastily, seeing the catatonic state Theo was in, and looks at Liam.

“He’s only been out for 7 minutes,” he explains, quickly. He uses his body to hover over Theo. He feels his very slow breath on his neck. “He threw up black blood, right before saying he ‘felt fine’ and then passed out. Or whatever this is.”

Mason nods, holding a hand out. “Where's the arrow? or bullet?”

Liam gestures to the counter beside Mason. Its arrowhead was black and dark red, but under the light they both saw a weirdly blue sparkle on it.

“I didn’t notice that before,” Liam frowned, mad at himself. 

Mason doesn’t seem to notice his dismay, inspecting it. “Is he hallucinating?”

Liam blushed at the question, recalling what Theo said in the car. Mason noticed that. 

“He might be,” Liam says, scratching his cheek defensively. “That’s a possibility.” 

“Why do you say that?” Mason pushed. He doesn’t really think he wants to know, though.

“Can we like…talk about this later?” Liam deflected. “If he’s hallucinating what does that tell us?”

“It depends what he said,” Mason said. “There are good and bad hallucinations. Which one?”

Liam stayed silent. Theo jerks under him. Liam curses, “He said I looked pretty. I thought he was imagining someone else. He then said he felt fine, he said he was dizzy. After that, he threw up everywhere. I saw him like…reach out in front of him, then he screamed. A scared scream. Then he was out.”

“Just like that?” Mason clarifies, looking like he knew without asking.

“Just like that,” Liam agreed. 

Mason starts rummaging through cabinets. 

-

That night Liam’s parents are out. “For date night,” he had said. Which, somehow, had made Theo more anxious. Just them, in Liam’s warm bedroom. Theo sits comfortably on the floor while he looks up at Liam on his bed reciting Spider-Man lore.

There is a perfect bubble around them and this empty house wants him to pop it.

He never did. Maybe he should’ve.

Theo told himself he wasn’t going to stay. 

Liam had plopped a blanket in his hand with a pillow on top and gave him a hard look. One that wasn’t going to give him an out, one that was not taking no for an answer.

Which is precisely how he ends up on the Dunbar’s couch, drifting away comfortably, something he hasn’t felt in years. 

Theo heard Liam’s parents come home, slowly awakening. Liam’s mom stumbling and drunk and trying to whisper. Theo remembers Liam texting his parents to be quiet when they came home. " My friend's staying over." They didn't even seem to notice Theo, but they remembered. Mr. Geyer kept shushing her and urging her up the stairs. It felt weird. It felt nostalgic. 

Theo thinks about the times his dad would be hammered and his parents would come home at 9, because his dad was a lightweight, with his mom tisking and rolling her eyes. 

But Theo knew she didn’t like going out all that much anyway, and she liked caring for people. She would slip his tie off and put his shoes at the door. Theo and Tara would be up, sitting on the couch or at the table together. She would get him up the stairs and hang his jacket in the closet and when she came back down she’d put her hair up and drink water and tell them how embarrassing their dad was. 

She’d kiss Theo’s forehead and Tara’s cheek, and smooth their hair and say, “Goodnight. I love you.” 

And Tara always said, “Don’t let the bed bugs bite.”

Theo’s eyes had burned then and he hadn’t cried since Tara, and he didn’t want to start feeling sorry for himself suddenly. He shut his eyes tight and let sleep take him again. It was more restless that time. 

Goodnight. I love you. Don't let the bed bugs bite. Theo remembers that voice echoing in his head as he slept and now it was more clear than ever. Tara said it like she was holding a speaker to his memory. Taunting him.

-

“I’m pretty sure they’re alphabetized,” Liam explains, darting between Mason and Theo. Wondering who he should help. “What are you looking for?”

“Fae dust,” Mason says, clinking bottles. “It looks the same, but I’m not sure.”

“If it is, what do we have to do?” he asks, increasingly frustrated. 

“I mean the same thing we usually do, make a cure with it. Unless it’s also laced with Wolfsbane,” Mason says. 

“He’s not affected by Wolfsbane.”

“Less work for us then,” Mason says, coming up from the bottom cabinet with a tiny tincture of Fae dust. It was glittery blue powder, stopped with a cork. 

Mason pops it open, dumps half the dust into a metallic bowl, grabs a lighter from the shelf, and starts burning it. It fizzes like pop rocks, tiny little fireworks. Mason throws on a glove, picks up the ashes, and harshly rubs it into the wound. 

Theo starts to shake, the antidote clearing up the infected area, making its way into Theo’s system. His unblinking eyes go gold, shining into Liam’s eyes. His claws twitch and fangs grow.

“He’s healing,” Liam states. “But, he’s not waking up.”

Mason places a hand on his shoulder, sympathetic. “Fae are tricksters. His mind is going through a lot more than his body. He’ll wake up eventually.”

Liam makes no response, gripping Theo’s wrist.

-

It's the blood dripping back in his chest cavity, slow and sticky. It’s cold. 

Typically, if one has their heart ripped out they would die immediately, but Theo’s supernatural healing works double time, acting as though it's even half as strong and fast enough to rebuild the human heart before he takes that last breath. Before it’s too late. 

The only thing human about him and it's not even his. 

And he knows what dying feels like, even separate from the pain. Because he can always separate the pain. It's how his body forces him to go numb and limp, movement ripped from him and all he can do is shake or twitch from the leftover nerves leaving his system. It's having every bit of oxygen ripped from his lungs before he can blink. His head lulls back. The last thing he always sees is Tara standing over him. Angry. Vengeful. He's dead before his head hits the ground.

Good night.

He wakes up gasping, eyes wide and searching. He coughs, hands scrambling over his chest. He can’t breathe. His heart pounds in his chest and he’s not in hell, but he still can’t breathe. 

His hands are gripping the couch, hard, and he screws his eyes shut in hopes it’ll make it better and it doesn’t. Panic is spread throughout his body, tingling and alive. He’s fully sat up, trying to ground himself.

Liam comes down. Theo keeps his eyes shut, while gasping.

“Hey,” Liam whispers, concerned. “Theo look at me.”

Theo opens his eyes, and Liam is kneeling on the floor beside him. 

Liam looks lost. Unsure. Confused. Theo wants to cry, he wants this to be over, he wants to go to his car and never come back because this is embarrassing and humiliating. Liam tries to touch Theo’s leg. He flinches back. 

Liam is silent for a second, looking into space. 

Then he hops on the couch beside Theo, turning his body fully angled toward him. He holds his hand out, palm up. 

“Let me see your hand.”

Theo places his hand in Liam’s. Liam starts to move it, placing it right over his chest–his heart–Theo flinches again, but Liam catches his hand. 

" It's okay,"  Liam says, pulling him back. “You’re not going to hurt me. Tara isn’t here to hurt you. You aren’t in Hell anymore. You’re with me. In my house. In Beacon Hills. And it was just a dream . ”

With every whispered sentence he felt himself relax, his claws retracting, his fangs disappearing. His breathing returned to normal. He focused on Liam’s heart beat, and his gentle eyes. 

Theo abruptly looked away, and took his hand back. No. No, no, no.

He’s drenched in sweat and he woke Liam up, and this was a bad idea. He held his own hand, thumb in palm, close to his chest.

“I should go,” he says, staring into space.

“Why?”

“I woke you up,” he says as a lame excuse. “And I sweated all over your pillow.”

Liam looks over at it and back. “I don’t care about a pillow, Theo.”

He’s not lying. Theo puts his head in his hands. “You shouldn’t care about me.”

“And yet here we are,” Liam says. He’s surprisingly calm and cool. I guess only one of them can lose their minds at one time. “Is this why you avoid me sometimes? So I don't ask questions about your dreams?”

Theo grumbled, “Something like that.”

Liam let him have a moment, before asking. “What happened?”

“Now or usually?” Theo asked, pulling himself out of his curled state to look at Liam. He wasn’t really going to tell him the “usually” answer. 

“Now.”

“Exactly what happened in the Skin-walkers’ prison,” Theo starts. “Tara rips my heart out and I die. Woke up and couldn’t breathe, it felt like it really happened.” Like I was back there.

Liam frowns, sadly. He didn’t say anything about the dream, but he did say: “Don’t go.”

Theo looks in his eyes and thinks but I should. For both of our sakes. “I won’t.”

“Don’t lie to me either.”

“I won’t leave tonight.” Only because I owe it to you.

Liam stares at him, mouth slightly open, and slow blinking eyes. Theo notices the messy state his hair is in, hair falling into his face, his cheeks reddened by sleep. Theo watches his eyes drift down to his lips. His tongue juts out to lick the dry part of his lip and Liam follows it. Liam’s heart is beating fast and steady, and he looks back up at Theo’s eyes and his heart stutters. He sees Theo looking back. He sees him.

“Y’know,” Theo starts, slow. He smells it, yearning wafting between them. It’s blurring the logical part of his mind out, the logical part that says that what he was going to say was not advised. “I have good dreams too.”

Liam blinks, and inhales big. “Yeah?”

Theo finally lets his gaze trail down. Intentional. Liam’s lips are soft and full and Theo wants to touch and kiss and he forgets where he is for the moment. That this isn’t a dream. (But Theo doesn’t remember this happening. When did this-)

“About what?” Liam whispers, probably low enough that Theo normally wouldn’t have been able to hear it, but he's fixed on the curve of his lips and his ears are tuned to the beat of his heart and the sighs and breaths from his lips – and he realizes he’s been staring too long.

Theo looks back at Liam’s eyes, big and blue like ocean waves. Waiting. Hoping.

About this. Us. “You.” Theo didn't know why he would say that. He’s always been smart, socially aware and conscious. This could go very south. Liam could reject him and Theo would never be able to see him again–not as a friend. If it came to it he would–

Liam leans closer, Theo’s brain shuts off. Wind blowing, heart to heart, Liam’s half lidded eyes. 

“Can I…?” Liam asks, but Theo’s not responsive, thinking about his own irregular heartbeat and Liam’s mouth so close to his. And he thinks it’s just another dream. Another sick dream about being too close, and not close enough. Oh god, and he’s asking to kiss him. It's not real, it couldn't be. And he realizes his heart is literally on display–for Liam to hear. ( My heart, my heart, my heart.) Weird how he never gets the feeling to control his heart rate around Liam. Crazy how much he needs Liam to see him. 

Theo leaned away, and panic filled his throat when he realized Liam took his silence as no and his body language as disinterest, he’s losing him. Liam’s lips fell in a frown, expression akin with hurt. Theo stopped thinking. 

He raised his hands and placed them hurriedly in the space between Liam's jaw and neck, before his brain had a chance to catch up, and Theo kissed him. He takes the gasp out of Liam’s mouth and smooths the frown away and l eans in it–his leg overlapping with Liam’s. It felt good. It felt right. He hasn’t felt this good since forever. Since–

Theo breaks the kiss. (This isn’t me. We never-) “I’m–” His eyes open and widen. It’s not Liam anymore. It’s Tracy Stewart, with scales along her face and blaringly orange eyes staring at him. Mad. A girl gone mad. She hisses and her forked tongue flicks out and a chill–a jolt runs up his spine. He doesn’t try to run. He watches with resignation as she pushes him back and his head hits the couch, and it's not the couch anymore. It's a cold autopsy table and her face is a shadow under the bright operation light. But he can feel her paralyzing claws squishing and squelshing between his ribs. He can feel his body go numb and blood running everywhere. He can feel her pressing deeper and deeper until he can't feel anymore. He can't feel what's his, what's hers. That last gasp leaves his lips.

Don't let the bed bugs bite.

-

Theo wakes up with a scream. He gasps, the first thing he sees is the bright surgical light. He covers his face.

" No, please,” he whimpers, sobbing into his hands. “Not again, please, please."  His shirt is off and he feels the cold steel on his back. Is this the Doctors, is this Tara, is this Josh, is this-?

“Theo!” Liam says, pulling him up. He moves his hands away, body now fully sitting up. Tears still flow, dripping down his face and neck. He doesn’t have a chance to even look at Liam before he’s wrapped in a hug. “You scared me.”

Theo wants to scoff at that. You don't know fear. But, he doesn’t. He closes his eyes again, melting into him, putting his full weight into it. Liam slides his hand all over his back and it feels good. He hasn’t felt this good since- (His brain let Liam see him at his worst and still stay and want him. It was a fantasy. A harmless fantasy about needing to be wanted and touched and held and comforted. Whatever whatever whatever-)

He opens his eyes and sees a window staring back at him. The glass reflects his image and Theo’s eyes widen. His hand instinctively goes to his heart. Somehow it’s still there.

“Jesus, I look terrible,” He says, noting the crusted blood on his chin, sweat and oil slicked in his hair. His eyes are bloodshot and puffy red, saltwater streaks on his cheeks. Liam lets him go.

“You could say that again,” Mason quips from beside Liam. He’s wearing a red button up shirt, probably pajamas. He takes off the glove he was wearing, staring Theo down. “How do you feel?”

Honestly, terrible, but two people just watched him cry and scream and plead for his life, so he’s fine in comparison. 

“I’m fine,” he says, simply. Mason squints at him and Theo finally looks at Liam. (He looks a complete mess, stringy hair, blood on his clothes, watery eyes. Theo’s heart pangs.) Who looks very unconvinced. “No, seriously. My head throbs a bit, my throat is raw, and I'm extremely grimy, but that's it.” Theo looks down at his leg, still spread out on the table. The wound has cleared up completely, though his jeans are in tatters. “I need new jeans though.”

Mason mock laughs. “Ha ha ha.” Despite his subtle cruelty, he hands him a rag, probably for his face. Theo takes it. “You’re welcome by the way.”

“Thanks,” Theo says, making eye contact. And he meant it. “Saved me from Hell.” Mason flinches at the honesty, the kindness. “And the rag.”

“No problem.” He turns to Liam, who thanks him as well.  “Call me anytime.”

“I will,” Liam nods at him. They hug, they say their goodbyes. See you Monday. And then Mason looks between Liam and Theo.

“You two are weird," he says smiling, Liam shoves him, and Theo snorts. 

He leaves, that resounding shut leaves Theo with the plaguing thought that they’re all alone. He goes to start wiping his face with the cold, wet cloth when Liam’s hand stops him. Theo looks to his right, where he stood. Liam forces the cloth from his hand, grabbing Theo’s hip and forcing him to face him. Jesus, he is way too tired to think of an excuse to not be flustered. Liam starts dabbing at his chin, not saying anything, focusing on the task at hand.

“What was happening to me?” he asks. 

“Fae dust,” Liam says. “I don’t know how hunters got a hold of something like that.”

Theo hums in response. “Did I say anything weird?”

Liam stopped for a moment. “Um… What’s the last thing you remember?”

Theo blinked. That’s a good question.

“I remember getting shot. Then you helped me. I remember getting in the car…” Theo scrunches his face in concentration. Everything that happened in the car is fuzzy. “I only really remember throwing up, and then…” he waves his hand vaguely. 

Liam nodded, a smile blooming in his face. 

“What?” Theo asked, confused.

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me,” Theo smiled. “What’d I say?”

Liam rubbed the rag across his lip. “You called me pretty.”

Theo’s smile dropped, his heart stuttering. ( My heart, my heart, my heart.)  “Oh.”

“I figured you were hallucinating someone else, don’t worry about it,” Liam said, quickly. He went to ring out all the blood in the cloth. As he was, the sink running, Theo stared out the window.

He really could have kept his mouth shut. “I wasn’t.”

He didn’t think Liam heard it at first, until he saw that Liam’s reflection in the window was staring at him. Theo turned around and Liam looked away. 

“You weren’t?”

“I wasn’t hallucinating until after I threw up,” he admits. He wanted to change the subject fast. Too much introspection for one day. “What does Fae dust do?”

“I’m guessing it makes you throw up blood and call your friend pretty,” Liam said, coming back with a warm rag. Theo wasn’t getting away from this. “Oh, and hallucinate. Not in that order.”

Theo grimaced. He was not letting that go. Liam goes to wipe his face again and Theo’s hand stops him. 

“I can do it myself,” he says, with a loose hand on his wrist.

“You scared you’re gonna call me pretty again?” Liam inquires, seemingly innocent eyes staring up at him. This table gives them a terrible height difference and yet Liam wasn’t backing down.

“No,” Theo grumbles. Just let it go. “Why are you upset?”

“Why am I-” Liam scoffs. He thinks better of it. He schools his face and his anger. “You’re not doing anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came for you when you cried for help,” Liam starts. “I carried you, I drove you to the vet. I called Mason, I watched you as you nearly died, I prayed for you to wake up.”

“What do you want me to do?” Theo asked, looking at Liam’s glossed over eyes. They’re big and full and ready to weep. 

“What do you want to do?” Liam whispered. With that, the air gets thick and heavy. Theo knows what he wants. He knows he wants Liam, he has for a while. But-

“How do I know it’s real?” Theo thinks aloud. He can’t suffer another blow. He won’t be able to take it. He needs it to be real. No more dreams, no more faking.

“I’m real,” Liam promises, blue eyes blinking. “This is reality.”

Theo swallows, taking the rag from Liam’s hand and setting it down. He stands, getting off the table, now incredibly close to Liam. The shorter looks up at him, eyes lidded, that makes Theo want to ravage. Theo’s eyes are dark and God, he’s feeling primal. Liam is breathing heavily, so fucking heavy. In one fluid motion, Theo picks him up and swings him onto the table. Now they can see eye to eye. Theo’s hand moved from his waist to his neck, his other hand clutching on Liam’s shirt. He leans in, almost closing that gap. Finally. Liam eagerly reaches out to touch his chest, his fingers grazing just at his collarbone, sending sparks over his face and body. The desire is dripping in the air, a sickly sweet smell, like straight sugar. Liam’s pupils are blown and he’s panting. We haven't even started.

Theo, agonizingly slow, grazes his chapped lips across Liam’s soft ones. Their breathing stops, awaiting. Theo looks in his eyes one last time and Liam practically dies from anticipation. His eyes are begging, no longer a question anymore. Theo’s eyes go closed as he pulls Liam’s neck closer, kissing him.

He didn’t know if this was real. He wants it to be his choice. His mind, his body. Theo doesn’t want to be taunted or mocked or plagued. He needs to feel whole again, himself again. He wants to take back ownership. If this is how he does it, he’s really not complaining. 

Theo kisses harder, the grip on Liam’s shirt tightening. All his want is pouring out. He needs more. He’s greedy for this love, for something good. Liam sighs into it, digging his nails into Theo’s skin. Theo licks into his mouth, and Liam accepts it, making a parting. He starts to scratch as Theo slides under his tongue, and out. The friction was making him hot, unbearably so. And yet his legs wrap around Theo. 

Liam pulls back, and when Theo opens his eyes it’s still him. His lips curl into a sloppy, cocky smile. Real.  He never knew he could want something this much. That he’d be good enough for someone to love him. 

“What’s wrong Dunbar? Looking a little flustered there,” he teases, noting a somewhat “freshly fucked” look. The sultry eyes, the messy hair, the blush, the red lips. 

Liam tried to push him away and found that Theo was good at holding his ground. He blushed more. “Asshole.”

“Is it too much?” Theo asked, nose nudging Liam’s neck, as he moved his shirt-holding-hand to Liam's shoulder. His breath sends hot waves through his body. The neck kisses are more than ocean waves. He feels a typhoon of pleasure in the soft, syrupy kisses placed on his neck. Theo’s teeth graze a sweet spot and Liam moans, grabbing the nape of his hair, signaling for right there . Theo needed to be wanted. He wanted to be needed. 

Theo licks and bites down, Liam pulls on hair and scratches the table. He’s completely in bliss, Theo sucking into skin. 

Somehow through this Liam realizes it’s probably midnight by now, the car is still covered in throw up, and Theo really has to shower. They both do. 

" Theo," Liam calls, breathily. “We gotta-” Theo places a cold hand on his waist. “Gotta… stop."  He pulls off at that. He tilts his head at Liam like a question. “Car. We need to clean the car. And then go home. And shower.”

Theo smiles. “Are we going back to yours?” 

Liam successfully pushes him away this time. “Duh.” He hops off the table as Theo inspects his neck. 

“Hickey healed fast,” he notes. “Maybe I need to go harder.”

Liam brushes his hand away, burning up and giggling.

Theo finishes wiping blood off his face and leg. Liam walks to the bathroom, finding a pet carpet cleaner and a storage closet with a vacuum. Theo takes the responsibility of cleaning the car and Liam cleans the table, putting everything away. 

In the midst of Theo scrubbing vomit, he reaches clarity. Like he healed a part of himself today. He was never doomed. He never was cursed to intimate dreams and brushing hands. He could have something more. He was a person. Under all the brooding exterior, he can be loved. 

He hopes there's a day when his heart pounds that he doesn’t hear his sister’s voice. He hopes there's a day where he doesn’t think he deserves to die.

By the time they’re done it's 1 in the morning and Theo would be lying if he said he wasn’t freezing without a shirt. His pants were torn to shreds and disgusting and he threw his shoes out all together. 

He drives them to Liam’s, laughing about everything between them that led to now. And his shitty driving.

-

After Theo and Liam shower, they stare at the open bed. 

Theo gets nervous. “I don't…” Liam looks over at his conflicted expression. “I don't know how to…”

“Cuddle?” Liam tries, softly. Be gentle, he wants to say. Intimate, tender. I don't know how to love. Liam could tell something bigger was in his eyes, something heavy on his shoulders. “It’s okay, I can show you.”

Theo looks at him, completely raw. Vulnerable. His hands shake with it.

He swallows as Liam takes his hand, walking to the edge of the bed. Liam sits and Theo follows. Liam looks at him attentively, intentionally, pushing his shoulder backward into the bed. Theo leans with it, head hitting the pillow. Liam leans over him and then settles right on top of him, face to chest.

Theo’s hands come up and wrap around him. It was easy. Easier than he thought. His heart is full and content. This is being happy.  This peace and joy. He needs this. Liam's scent enveloping him, their hearts beating to the same pace. It’s been a long night, but tomorrow will be better. 

He misses his family. He hasn't felt like this since they were alive. His eyes burn and tears drip down his face into the pillow. Liam hears this, rolling beside Theo, hugging him tight. 

“You’re okay, you're okay, you're okay.”

He sobs like he never has before. Tomorrow will be better.