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Liam wasn’t proud of how fast he responded to Theo’s 11 PM text.
Theo (11:02 pm): u up?
Liam (11:02 pm): yes.
Theo (11:04 pm): come over.
He was already halfway out the door before the second message even came through, barely pausing to grab his jacket. His heartbeat pounded in his chest, more from excitement than the cool night air.
Liam wasn’t a fool—well, maybe when it came to Theo. Their weird, unspoken thing had evolved from heated arguments ending in bruises and broken noses to equally intense arguments ending in… other things.
Kisses pressed hard enough to bruise. Shirts yanked over heads. Hands clutching, claws scraping. Teeth leaving faint indentations like a half-forgotten memory.
They didn’t talk about it. Ever. Just another strange layer to whatever this was.
Booty call? Absolutely.
Did Liam mind? Absolutely not.
Because Theo reaching out meant he was thinking about him, and Liam liked that more than he cared to admit. His own thoughts were a constant, looping chant of Theo Theo Theo. It was pathetic. He knew that. He didn’t care.
—
Theo’s apartment was dark when Liam arrived.
That wasn’t entirely unusual—Theo probably thought dim lighting made him look mysterious or broody or whatever dramatic bullshit he thought added to his whole tortured anti-hero vibe.
But this wasn’t just dim. It was pitch black.
And it reeked of blood.
Not the casual, oops I cut my hand on a broken glass kind of blood. No, this was bad.
His werewolf senses kicked into high gear, scanning the room, heart thundering in his chest. He strained to listen—not for the familiar pounding rhythm of Theo’s heartbeat that he’d expected for… other reasons—but a slower, faltering thud.
Something was wrong .
Liam barely registered his claws extending as he stepped further inside, ready for anything.
Except, apparently, this .
Because there, on the kitchen floor, lay Theo Raeken, half-conscious, blood pooling around him like some Shakespearean tragedy. One hand pressed weakly over a gaping wound at his side, the other still holding his phone—their text conversation still open on the screen.
Liam froze.
“What the fuck? ”
Theo’s lips twitched into the faintest, weakest smirk Liam had ever seen. “You… came fast,” he rasped, voice rough and wrecked.
“Are you kidding me right now?!” Liam was at Theo’s side in seconds, hands hovering uselessly, torn between punching him for being so stupid and cradling him like some tragic romance hero.
“Missed… you too,” Theo slurred, his smirk fading as he winced in pain.
“Shut up!” Liam’s hands finally settled, yanking Theo’s blood-soaked shirt up to assess the damage. His stomach twisted at the sight of the deep slash, angry and raw, seeping sluggishly thanks to whatever wolfsbane-laced nightmare was still in his system.
“What the hell happened? Did you piss off the wrong hunter or—wait, of course, you did. Why am I even asking?”
“Ambushed,” Theo muttered. “Wolfsbane. Slows healing. Couldn’t… fix it.” He gestured vaguely at the half-hearted attempt at stitching himself up—a bloody needle lying abandoned on the floor.
Liam’s chest ached. This wasn’t what he’d expected tonight—maybe some roughness, maybe even a little blood if Liam lost control of his fangs or claws again when Theo did that thing with his hands—but this?
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
“This isn’t how you call for help, Theo! I thought—” Liam cut himself off, face burning.
Theo, of course, caught on instantly. “You thought what?” he teased, voice rough but still managing to be obnoxiously smug . “Booty call?”
Liam glared. “I hate you.”
Theo’s broken laugh dissolved into a wheezing cough, but his eyes still sparkled, damn him, like this was some twisted game he was winning. “Sure you do.”
“Shut up before I let you bleed out,” Liam snapped, though his hands were already pressing more firmly on the wound, claws barely retracting. He was absolutely burning the wolfsbane harder now— on purpose.
—
It took Liam all of five minutes to realize he hated this.
The wolfsbane was bad enough, but the gash was worse—deep, jagged, and still sluggishly bleeding despite Theo’s accelerated healing. Stitching was also not his thing, and his hands were trembling, adrenaline crashing hard.
“You should’ve called Deaton,” Liam muttered as he threaded the needle, breath hitching when Theo groaned faintly under his touch.
Theo’s half-lidded gaze fixed on him with that familiar, infuriating sharpness. “Yeah… he’d love a midnight emergency call. Besides, you’re more fun.”
“Fun?” Liam repeated, incredulous. “I’m literally about to stab you repeatedly with a needle.”
Theo’s mouth curved faintly. “Kinky.”
Liam stabbed him a little harder than necessary.
Theo didn’t even hiss—just smirked wider, that stupid spark never leaving his eyes. “You’re enjoying this.”
“I’m not.”
“You’re touching me, Dunbar.”
“I’m saving you, you idiot!”
By the time Liam finished stitching and wrapping the wound as best he could, his hands were stiff, and exhaustion weighed on his shoulders like a lead blanket.
And Theo? Theo was still Theo —smug, infuriating, beautiful, and completely unaffected by almost bleeding out on the floor.
“You look like you’ve been through hell,” Theo teased as Liam hauled him up, more deadweight than help.
“Oh, I ’ve been through hell?” Liam countered, dragging him toward the bathroom. “You were the idiot bleeding out on the floor!”
“Didn’t hear you complain about coming over.”
Liam growled. “I’m this close to leaving you here to rot.”
—
Cleaning Theo up was… intimate in a way Liam wasn’t prepared for.
Blood stained everything—Theo’s shirt, jeans, and even Liam’s hands, dark, crusted streaks tracing his fingers like a memory he couldn’t wash away. He grabbed a clean washcloth, soaking it in warm water, before kneeling in front of Theo, who sat slumped on the closed toilet lid.
Liam worked quietly, wiping away dried blood from Theo’s skin with slow, deliberate care. He told himself it was just first aid—but the soft warmth of Theo’s skin under his fingertips told a different story.
Warm, bare skin.
Firm, steady muscle shifting faintly beneath his touch.
His hands trembled—not from exhaustion but from something deeper, sharper. He hated how familiar Theo felt beneath his fingers, how easy it was to fall into the rhythm of care.
He smoothed the washcloth along Theo’s shoulder, brushing over a fading bruise. Theo’s gaze never left him, quiet but intense.
“You’re being gentle,” Theo murmured, voice still rough but softer now.
Liam’s face went scarlet. “Shut up.”
Theo’s lips quirked into the faintest smirk. “Don’t look so scandalized, you’ve seen me shirtless before, Dunbar.”
Liam shoved a clean T-shirt into Theo’s hands, eyes firmly averted. “Put this on and shut up.”
—
When Theo finally made it to bed, he collapsed onto the mattress with a groan. He was out of breath but still had enough energy to raise a brow at Liam.
“You can leave now, you know. I’ll live.”
“Yeah, not taking your word for it,” Liam shot back, already climbing into the bed like it was the most normal thing in the world.
Theo’s brow lifted higher. “I know you thought this was a booty call, but I’m sorry to disappoint. I’m not exactly in top form right now… unless you want me to watch, I’m sure I could handle that." Theo grinned, and Liam’s face definitely didn’t feel like burning.
“Shut up. I’m here to make sure you don’t die.”
Theo smirked faintly but looked genuinely surprised when Liam settled next to him.
“You’re cuddling me now?” Theo asked, one eyebrow raised. “Clingy much?”
“I’m not being clingy,” Liam said quickly, though the way he definitely curled up against Theo’s side said otherwise.
His arm draped carefully over Theo’s waist, hand resting just above the edge of his sweatpants, fingertips grazing the band like he needed to make sure Theo was still there. "I’m just… making sure you don’t die in your sleep.”
Theo snorted, eyes already closing as exhaustion tugged at him. His free arm shifted, slipping loosely around Liam’s back, holding him close in an almost thoughtless motion. His breathing evened out, slower, steadier.
“…Sure you are.”
Liam huffed but didn’t move, feeling Theo’s warmth beneath his hand, solid and real. He hated this—not the closeness itself, or how perfectly Theo fit against him—but the fact that it was happening because Theo got hurt.
He shouldn’t have needed Liam like this. But now that he was here… Liam wasn’t about to let go.
It was practical, really. Someone had to make sure Theo didn’t die in his sleep. Totally logical. Not clingy at all.
His arm tightened just a fraction around Theo’s waist.
God, he wanted to punch him. He should punch him. Right in his stupid, smug, too-pretty face for being reckless, for getting hurt, for making Liam feel… like this.
But instead, here he was, practically spooning Theo like some lovesick idiot. Which, fine, maybe he was.
Theo shifted slightly, breath warm against Liam’s hair as his face nuzzled unconsciously into the soft strands. An involuntary shiver raced down Liam’s spine.
“I can feel you thinking,” Theo muttered, voice rough with exhaustion but still managing to sound annoyed.
Liam stiffened. “I’m not thinking.”
“You’re brooding.”
“I’m watching you.”
“Same thing.” Theo smirked faintly, eyes still closed. “Your heartbeat’s loud as hell… kinda distracting.”
Liam gritted his teeth. “Maybe it’s loud because someone bled out on the floor like a moron.”
“Hmm,” Theo murmured, unbothered. “Sexy.”
Liam let out a long-suffering sigh and resisted the urge to throttle him—barely. He adjusted the blanket higher over Theo’s chest and settled in more firmly, ignoring how his chest ached in that stupid, familiar way.
He didn’t know how long he stayed like that, listening to Theo’s breathing even out, warm and steady against him.
“I should punch you,” Liam muttered quietly, almost to himself.
Theo’s lips twitched into a barely-there smirk, even half-asleep. “You’re already holding me… might as well skip to the makeup sex.”
Liam groaned, loudly this time, pressing his face into Theo’s shirt. “I hate you.”
Theo’s fingers curled lightly into Liam’s hoodie, holding on just tight enough.
“…Sure you do.”
—
Liam woke up to warmth.
For a moment, he was disoriented, blinking against the soft morning light spilling through Theo’s half-closed blinds. His senses slowly sharpened—warmth pressed against his chest, steady breathing near his collarbone, and the familiar, maddening scent of Theo wrapping around him.
Oh. Right.
Theo was sprawled over him, head resting against Liam’s shoulder, one arm draped across his chest, fingers loosely curled in the fabric of Liam’s hoodie. Their legs were tangled beneath the blanket like they belonged there.
This... hadn’t happened before. They fought, kissed, clawed, and left. No strings. No softness. No waking up like this.
Liam stared at the ceiling, heart pounding—not from nerves, but from something deeper, sharper. He hated how much he’d thought about this—waking up next to Theo, having something real. It was ridiculous. Wishful. Impossible.
But now Theo was still here, warm and solid, holding on like he didn’t want to let go either.
Liam told himself it was just because Theo was still healing—just being practical. But even he couldn’t believe that lie. His fingers brushed lazy circles on Theo’s back, savoring the way their heartbeats matched—steady, synchronized. Something raw and instinctive settled in him, right in a way that scared him.
He hated that this happened because Theo had been reckless—because Theo almost died.
His throat tightened at the memory of too much blood staining his hands and Theo’s skin. He should’ve punched Theo for being an idiot—but he couldn’t. Not when Theo had looked up at him with half-lidded, pained eyes and still managed to smirk, like nothing could touch him.
Liam let himself savor the moment just a bit longer, fingers brushing beneath Theo’s shirt to check the wound he’d stitched up the night before.
The deep, bloody gash was now a faint, pink line, already healing thanks to Theo’s enhanced regeneration. Good. The wolfsbane must’ve burned out, and—somehow—his shaky stitches had held.
“You know,” Theo rasped, voice rough with sleep and still infuriatingly smug, “if you wanted to feel me up, you could’ve just asked.”
Liam definitely didn’t yelp. His hand snapped back like he’d touched something scalding. “I wasn’t—!”
Theo’s half-lidded gaze sparkled with amusement despite the rasp in his voice. “Sure, Dunbar. Checking my wound, right?” His mouth curved into that infuriating, familiar smirk. “Very professional.”
Liam clenched his jaw, refusing to take the bait. “Yes, actually.”
Theo chuckled, still wrecked but smug. “Worried about me?”
Liam glared. “No. I was making sure you weren’t dead. Trust me, if you were, I’d have dragged your body into the woods and told everyone you went feral.”
Theo hummed, clearly unimpressed. “Romantic.”
“You’re lucky I didn’t punch you last night,” Liam hissed, feeling the heat rise to his face.
Theo smirked wider, tilting his head in mock curiosity. “Didn’t think you cared, Dunbar.”
“I don’t!” Liam countered, but the lie would've been obvious even if his traitorous heart didn't skip several beats.
Theo chuckled, voice still wrecked but unmistakably pleased, like this was the highlight of his morning. He pushed himself up slowly until he was leaning on one elbow, way too close , gaze sharp and teasing.
“You’re still in my bed, Dunbar.”
Liam glared, half-sitting against the headboard, fists clenched in the blanket. “You were half-dead on the floor last night. Excuse me for making sure you didn’t die.”
Theo just smirked wider. “Aw, you do care.”
Liam shoved him—not hard enough to hurt, just enough to knock him back against the pillows. “What actually happened last night? You said hunters, but—”
“It’s not a big deal.” Theo waved it off, stretching out like they were discussing the weather. His shirt rode up just enough to show the edge of the now-healing wound, though he didn’t seem concerned. “I’ve had worse.”
“Not the point.” Liam’s voice sharpened as he sat up straighter, muscles tense. “You almost died, Theo.”
Theo shrugged. “You came. It’s fine.”
“You came, it’s fine ?” Liam repeated, incredulous. “You didn’t even tell me you were hurt! You—you made it sound like—”
“Like a booty call?” Theo finished, smirking.
Liam’s face burned. “Yes! ”
Theo’s smirk widened. “I knew you’d come faster.”
Liam growled, shoving him again—but this time, Theo caught his wrist, still smiling, though something softer flickered behind his eyes.
“I’m fine, Liam.” His voice dropped, quieter but still maddeningly confident. “I can handle myself.”
“Barely.” Liam yanked his hand back, heart pounding for entirely different reasons now. “You’re such a jerk.”
Theo laughed under his breath. “You’ve called me worse.”
“And an idiot! ” Liam added, crossing his arms. “If you ever pull something like that again—if you ever almost get yourself killed and don’t tell me —I swear to God, I’ll—”
His words tripped over themselves, chest heaving as frustration boiled over.
Theo tilted his head, still close, gaze sharp but curious. “Swear what?”
“I’ll—” Liam’s breath hitched, his pulse pounding in his ears. “I’ll never — ever —take you out on a date—”
His voice cut off, realization hitting like a punch to the chest.
Shit.
The room stilled, air thick between them.
Theo blinked, smirk fading into something far more cautious. “… What? ”
Liam’s heart thundered, breath locking in his throat. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. He said it.
And Theo had heard.
Theo blinked, expression shifting from surprised to something… unreadable. His mouth opened, then closed, like he couldn’t quite believe what he’d just heard.
“You… were thinking about taking me on a date?” Theo finally asked, voice uncharacteristically soft.
“I— no —I mean—” Liam scrambled, definitely not panicking. “I didn’t— Fuck —that’s not the point!”
But Theo was still staring at him, eyes searching, like he couldn’t figure Liam out. “You… meant that.”
Liam exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “I didn’t—just… forget it.”
Theo didn’t forget it. He never forgot anything. He just watched Liam with that same stunned expression, like Liam had knocked the air out of him.
The awkward silence stretched until Theo finally, finally, softly asked, “So… would you still… take me on a date?”
Liam’s head snapped up. “What?”
Theo shifted, looking almost shy —which was ridiculous because Theo Raeken didn’t get shy.
“I mean… if I promised not to get almost killed again,” Theo added, voice quiet but steady. “Would you?”
Liam stared at him, heart pounding like it was trying to break free. He couldn’t quite believe what he’d heard—or the faint blush dusting Theo’s cheeks.
He couldn’t remember ever seeing Theo blush.
“…Does that mean you like me?” Liam asked cautiously, like saying it out loud might break the moment.
Theo arched a brow, but his usual sharpness was softened by something more uncertain. “Isn’t the feelings talk supposed to happen after the date?”
Liam blinked, then huffed a quiet laugh, his lips twitching despite himself. “Most people haven’t… you know, ” he gestured vaguely between them, “slept with each other before the first date.”
Theo’s grin turned wicked, all teasing confidence back in an instant like an armor. “Well, we’ve always been overachievers.”
They stared at each other— really stared—until Liam couldn’t hold back anymore. He leaned forward, his voice quiet but firm:
“I like you, Theo."
Theo’s breath hitched—but only for a second. His teasing smirk melted into something soft, something real , his eyes widening like Liam had just said the best thing he’d ever heard.
Before Liam could spiral into second-guessing, Theo’s hand came up, cupping the side of Liam’s neck with a trembling kind of reverence. He tugged him in for a slow, certain kiss—warm, grounding, and different to all the ones they shared before.
When they finally broke apart, Theo rested his forehead against Liam’s, breath uneven, gaze still locked on him like he couldn’t believe this was real.
“I—” Theo started, words catching as he swallowed hard. His voice was rough, almost unsure, but earnest . “I like you too.”
He let out a shaky breath, fingers still gently tracing the curve of Liam’s jaw. “I’ve… liked you for a long time.” His lips twitched, almost self-conscious now. “Didn’t think you’d… want this.”
Liam exhaled, shoulders sagging as he leaned closer, forehead pressing more firmly against Theo’s. His voice cracked just a little. “You’re so stupid. How could I not want this? Want you? Of course I do.”
Theo’s breath hitched, fingers tightening on Liam’s neck like he needed to hold on. For a moment, his eyes shone with something Liam hadn’t expected—hope.
Before Liam could say anything else, Theo kissed him again—not teasing, not demanding—just soft and real. Liam melted into it, his hands settling on Theo’s waist.
When they finally pulled back, breathless but steady, Liam let out a shaky laugh, chest still heaving. “We should probably… you know…” His voice trailed off, brain fighting to kick back into responsible mode. “…Tell Scott about the hunters.”
Theo hummed faintly, his lips brushing the corner of Liam’s mouth like he couldn’t stop himself. “Hmm… yeah, we could…”
He tilted his head, mouth skimming along Liam’s jaw, lingering just long enough to feel Liam’s pulse spike beneath his lips.
“…But...” Theo added, voice dropping into something low and dangerous , “we could also make your Alpha wait.”
Liam’s breath hitched as Theo kissed just beneath his ear, his words rasping through him like an electric charge. “You did come over last night expecting… something different.”
Theo’s teeth grazed his skin just enough to make Liam groan, his head tilting instinctively, giving Theo more.
“Theo—” Liam managed, though his fingers were already twisting in Theo’s shirt, yanking him back in for another deep, claiming kiss. It was hotter now, messier, need surging up fast and reckless , like neither of them could hold back.
Heat sparked through Liam’s veins, burning away the last of his reservations. He tugged Theo closer— harder, guiding him until Theo shifted fully, settling into his lap with an easy, fluid grace that made Liam’s breath stutter.
Theo let out a quiet, pleased hum against Liam’s mouth, thighs bracketing his hips, fingers curling into Liam’s shoulders like he belonged there .
Liam’s hands found Theo’s waist again, rough fingertips brushing over the edge of the now-healed wound. The stitches were still there—small and jagged—but the skin beneath was warm, whole.
His brain tried to circle back to responsibility—hunters, danger, Scott—but Theo’s mouth was already trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down his neck, making every coherent thought dissolve into want.
“Theo—” Liam groaned again, head tipping back against the headboard, hands tightening on Theo’s hips. “We… should— ”
Theo nipped at the sensitive skin just beneath Liam’s ear, cutting him off with a breathless, "Later."
And who was Liam to argue?
Scott could wait. The world could wait.
Right now, Theo was here—close and real—after everything they’d left unsaid for far too long.
His fingers splayed wide across Theo’s back, holding tight, anchoring them both.
This.
Them.