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“When I said surprise me, I didn’t mean for you to pull out all the stops,” Theo says, dry as a bone, as he pulls open the door of his apartment and gives Liam’s costume a once-over. Liam’s costume being nothing but his usual white hightops, ripped jeans and plaid patch button-up (he’s going through a phase, okay?). The only notable difference from his regular school attire is the fact that he’s wolfed up, complete with the hairy sideburns, shaggier hair on top, dark claws curled into loose fists and fangs peeking out over the top of his bottom lip.
“Fuck you,” Liam lisps with a roll of his eyes. “As if you aren’t dressed like the one supernatural creature that is our immortal enemy.”
“Excuse me, I am not dressed as a mere archetype, I am going as Lestat de Lioncourt,” Theo says. The you uncultured swine goes unspoken but well understood.
Liam just snickers as he watches Theo cast about for a pocket big enough on his eighteenth-century costume to stash his keys in. Once he’s finally managed to shove everything somewhere underneath all the embroidery of his breeches and coat, he turns to find Liam grabbing at his hand impatiently.
“Thought vampires were your ‘immortal enemies’,” Theo says with a pointed look at their hands intertwined.
“Shut up,” Liam mutters. “You’re maybe sorta forgiven for that shirt.”
That shirt being the frill-front number Theo picked out at a thrift shop specifically for the purpose of leaving halfway unbuttoned because he knows what kind of effect his bare chest has on his boyfriend, despite their mutual and shitty attempts at nonchalance.
Theo sighs theatrically. “And here I was, hoping you would at least acknowledge all the effort I went through to procure the top hat.”
“I know you made that shit out of paper mache and satin, don’t lie to me. I saw the gallons of glue you tried to hide under the sink.”
Not to mention Theo enlisting Corey’s help to block Liam’s view from the doorway each and every time the beta showed up unannounced to hang out with his boyfriend, and Theo was still elbow-deep in newspaper strips and needed a place to conceal his super secret costume project.
Theo blinks. “Why were you looking under my sink?”
Liam reddens for reasons undetected and gives Theo’s hand a vengeful squeeze.
“Wait,” says Theo. “Was that pipe bursting under my sink because of you?”
“Shut up. Shut up,” says Liam. “I was just trying to help.” He’s redder than a beet now.
“Were you trying to be my knight in shining armor, Dunbar?” Theo deadpans. “Or were you trying to start a gay plumber porno situation with me?”
“It ended with your kitchen getting flooded, so it’s not like we could have had the right mood to have sex, anyway,” Liam mutters.
“Every mood is the right mood for you, Liam,” Theo ribs him, lifting the corner of his mouth in a fanged smirk to let Liam know he’s teasing. And maybe just a tiny bit serious.
The gold in Liam’s eyes flashes just a little more intensely at the implications of Theo’s comment. “Don’t start something now that you can’t finish.”
“Who says we need to even wait?” Theo says, raking his gaze blatantly over Liam’s body. Liam has always been particularly insecure about the hairier version of himself, and truth be told was hyping himself up for close to an hour before setting out for Theo’s apartment, but now the fire smoldering in Theo’s irises is enough for Liam’s wolf to settle and realize that Theo doesn’t hate looking at this side of him. Quite far from it.
“Careful,” Liam growls. “Wouldn’t want you to lose any more buttons from that thing.”
Still, he plants one clawed palm over the center of Theo’s chest where his heart throbs under the warm skin.
“Oh, I’m so scared, you big bad wolf,” Theo says sarcastically. “What are you gonna do, rip my shirt in two and ravage my modesty in the middle of the street?”
Liam’s lustful gaze turns half thoughtful. “I mean--”
“Jesus Christ,” Theo says. “We’ve gotta meet Mase and Cor in less than ten minutes.” Nonetheless, he clutches Liam’s palm to his chest without seeming to have any intention of letting go. If ever, he drifts closer, his free hand coming up to comb gently through the side of Liam’s unruly hair, fingers tugging at the strands as they slide toward his nape and yanking Liam into his personal space. Liam’s lips part, the points of his fangs flashing in the moonlight to match Theo’s, and Theo gives in to the temptation just this once, doesn’t waste a moment to consider possible audiences in the street or the fact that once they get started he’ll forget all about their promise to meet their friends for trick-or-treating. They capture each other’s mouths in an open kiss, Liam going straight for the roof of Theo’s mouth with his tongue, and Theo loses just a tiny bit of control and lets his claws pop out and scratch lightly at the back of Liam’s head to draw him closer--
They're so lost in the feel and taste and heat of each other that they don't pull away at the sound of the exploding bullet until it's too late.
Liam freezes in Theo's grasp, then goes limp, hands dropping, head sagging against Theo's chest all boneless. Theo's heart kicks into overdrive--he feels like it might beat right out of his ribcage--and the press of Liam's wild pulse to his skin through the cotton between them tells him Liam's body is hurtling toward panic at the same rate as him.
"What the fuck--"
In the infuriating crawl of time, Theo's arms move sluggishly to catch all of Liam's weight by his armpits before the werewolf can collapse to the asphalt. An unconscious whimper of pain escapes Liam's lips. The drag of Theo's palm across Liam's back comes away slick with the sickening crimson of blood.
Theo shoves his mind into action then. He jerks his head up in time to catch sight of the lone hunter stepping out of the shadows of the bushes at the end of the drive, cheeks darkened by an uneven beard and his anorak bulging with the promise of more weapons concealed on his person. In his hands he's got the barrel of his rifle trained on Theo and Liam directly. One more step forward, one more caress of his finger on the trigger, and Theo knows the next bullet could rip into a part of Liam's flesh more critical than his back.
Theo moves on pure instinct. He spins to shield Liam's body from the brunt of the next volley, thanking the stars when the three bullets only graze his shoulder and his neck, and then he turns to lower Liam to the ground on his side so he can spring up with free hands sharpening into claws and his fangs pushing fully out of his gums. The rumbling beginnings of a roar stir low in his gut.
Theo stalks forward, muscles rippling with deadly grace. The hunter falters back an inch, pathetic silver cross pendant outstretched in his hand from where it hangs around his neck.
"I thought--I thought you were a bloodsucker!"
The growl that tears from Theo's lungs and out his teeth reverberates like the warning call of a lion. He feels his browbone shift and dip, his cheekbones rise in their monstrous form, the tips of his ears elongate and the hair at the sides of his face sprout through his very pores as he wrinkles his nose against the routine discomfort of his shift.
The hunter gulps and plunges his hand into the pocket of his coat for something. A moment later he's flinging all sorts of shit in Theo's direction--drops of water from a vial, bits of garlic, a plastic baggie of powdered silver.
"The power of Christ compel you--I banish you to--"
The next gunshot explodes and the bullet passes clean through Theo's shoulder as he continues to advance on the human. He snarls at the injury as if stung by a mosquito.
"No use banishing me to hell, bitch," Theo growls. "Already been there and even they couldn't contain me."
He must black out, then, because the next few seconds are a blur of rage and singing claws. He lashes out at the hunter, knocking the rifle from his grasp and sending it skittering across the asphalt. He ducks and dodges the human's attempts to punch him or grab him in a headlock. Theo slashes through the hunter's jacket--shreds it between his talons and twists it around the hunter's elbows to jerk his arms back until he hears something popping out of his socket--and when the man goes down howling, Theo pounces on him and incapacitated him right then and there with a swipe of his claws through the meat of the hunter's thigh. The man's scream morphs into a strangled whimper as he lies inert on the ground.
Theo comes back to himself with his arm already poised over his head, ready to strike. But another sound has drawn him out of his headspace, the strong thrum of blood in singing veins, and he knows that sound. Knows the pattern of Liam's heartbeat. All at once the fight drains from him only to be replaced by a flood of panic.
Theo stumbles over to Liam's motionless body on the pavement. "Oh G-d, oh G-d, fuck, fuck," he pants out. Hands fluttering over Liam's frame, not knowing where it's safe to touch. Latching onto the space between Liam's jaw and his nape to curl his blunt fingers against the skin there and yank at the pain in a surge of black vines twisting up his forearm.
"Theo," Liam whimpers. Theo shifts him so they can see each other. The gold in Liam's eyes has receded to blue, blue like the shade of a streetlight before it dies, blue like the stupid sprinkles in his birthday cake sundae and blue like the way Theo's pulse slows to a sickening crawl at the blood smearing the corner of Liam's mouth. And Liam's making all these noises, soft and breathless and so obviously masking his discomfort, that Theo wants to howl and tear the pain right of his limbs.
"I'm here," Theo grits out. His voice sounds like sandpaper.
"Theo. I'm--I'm so scared," Liam says.
Theo goes to clutch Liam's hand in his other one without needing to be asked.
"No. No. No, don't be scared, Li, don't be scared, I'm here. He won't hurt you. I'm here," Theo mutters over and over.
"Can't--feel much of anything below the waist," Liam whispers.
Theo's heart plummets like a stone. He's on autopilot now, forcing himself into movement the way he's been trained to do when the worst case scenario turns into the unthinkable. He thumbs over on his phone for the sheriff, then for Corey, and the next thing he knows he's slipping an arm each under Liam's knees and his upper back and carrying him to the bed if his truck parked across the way. Keeping a hand firmly on Liam's nape to draw any residual pain, he flicks out the claws on a few fingers of his right hand to slash through the back of Liam's shirt and clear away the fabric from the gory-looking wound underneath, then staunch the blood flow.
"When you said--rip a shirt--said--I thought--wasn't imagining this," Liam chokes out.
"Shut up," Theo says with the quiet fury of his worry.
Mason and Corey's footsteps patter up to them less than a second later. Theo has no time or headspace to appreciate their matching costumes as Finn and Poe. The two explode in a cacophony of shit and oh my G-d, oh my G-d, and then they're all helping Liam into the backseat while Mason takes the wheel and Theo cradles Liam's head in his lap and curses his own lack of vigilance for putting his boyfriend in danger.
The sheriff pulls in as they're pulling out, assesses the situation with the hunter writhing on the ground and the ashen-faced teenagers looking like they're about to commit some seriously illegal U-turns and speeding to get to the hospital, and he simply says, "Drive safe, boys," with a nod of understanding that they'll all talk about this and deliver official statements later.
"Hold on, Liam. Don't you fucking dare fall asleep on me," Theo hisses down at Liam in his lap.
Liam's face is impossibly drawn and pallid in the moonlight, but he still manages to move his lips to mumble out a sassy, "Couldn't if I tried...y'r practically...shirtless…"
It's true. Theo glances down to find that halfway through his rampage, he somehow ripped his frilly top in multiple places, while the intricately embroidered material of his coat is pockmarked in random spots congealed around the edges with blood.
Sure enough, when Melissa greets them at the entrance of the ER with her brow pinched and her mouth in a line, she's momentarily shocked out of her determined professionalism to briefly ask Theo if he's dressed as a wounded Frenchman or actually injured.
Some hours and a tense operation later, Liam blinks awake to a tattered-looking eighteenth-century Theo Raeken draped in a plastic chair at his bedside over the side of Liam's mattress. The familiar sting of antiseptic to his nostrils lets him know immediately he's in the hospital. Oh, joy.
He remembers everything from the night before with stinging clarity: the pepper of bullets, the drop of his body in Theo's arms, Theo wolfing out in almost full form and going ballistic on the lone hunter until Liam cried out his name to stop him and anchor him back down. The way Theo's fingers trembled as they carded through his hair on the drive over here, and how Theo whispered threats and promises to him that he probably thought Liam wouldn't remember, just to cajole him into staying awake.
Liam wiggles his toes. Miracle of miracles, they move.
And because Liam is Liam, and Theo is...well...still Theo, Liam decides to kick Theo awake with a toe to his ribs.
Theo comes awake with a glare. He blinks, disoriented, and then his face morphs into an impressive series of emotions upon realizing that Liam is awake and did, in fact, just prove that he's fully healed by toeing him in the ribcage.
They stare at each other flatly for a whole of three seconds. Liam's mouth twitches, and then Theo says, the definition of unimpressed, "Glad to see you alive and kicking."
Liam snorts so hard his throat hurts. Still, the mutual pounding of their hearts in their chests just then belies their masks of nonchalance. Liam thinks that maybe it's time they stopped this particular form of pretense around each other.
Apparently Theo thinks so, too, because his face creases half with grief as he says, "Don't you fucking do that ever again."
"I won't," Liam promises with all the earnestness he can muster. "I so won't. Like, I'm pretty sure I'm not leaving the house for the next three weeks. Or three months. Trick-or-treating? Never heard of it. Next year we're staying in and marathoning all the Halloween movies and eating our weight in candy."
"Speaking of sweets," says Theo, as he bends over to retrieve something from the floor. It's one of those plastic jack-o'-lantern's in a glaring orange shade, filled to the brim with all sorts of caramel chocolate snacks and peanut butter candies and prize pickings.
Liam blinks at the treasure trove that Theo dumps into his lap.
"Mason and Corey donated their pickings," says Theo.
Liam raises a single brow at him.
"...And I might have initially swayed Corey into seeing the benefits of forking over all the peanut butter pieces," Theo grudgingly admits.
Liam snickers, then snorts, then bursts into a full-on belly laugh that Theo does his damnedest to look irritated at.
"I don't even know how anyone could take you seriously dressed like that," Liam wheezes.
Theo scoops up his hand and squeezes it in revenge. (And really, they've got to work on their idea of vengeance with each other, because Liam is looking a little too into it at the moment.)
"Sure," Theo drawls. "This, coming from the werewolf who dressed up as a...werewolf."
Liam frowns. "At least it got me some romantic shirt-ripping."
"There was no romantic shirt-ripping."
"Pretty sure you ripped my favorite shirt."
"Trust me, I may have ripped your shirt, but there was no romance in it."
"Uh-huh," Liam says, tongue in cheek. Gaze dipping down to where their fingers are laced with each other. "So...does that mean I get a raincheck on the romantic shirt-ripping?"
"...Oh, for fuck's sake."