Work Text:
In Liam’s defense, he did mention he had a boyfriend. It wasn’t his fault nobody believed him.
“Liam, kid, you don’t have to make up a boyfriend just because you don’t want to go out with her.” Stiles tossed an arm over his shoulders with a goading grin as the girl who’d asked for the younger college students number - younger by a year, as if there was such a big difference between a sophomore or a junior - walked out of the on-campus café. “Although, I appreciate the creativity.”
“I do have a boyfriend, asshole,” Liam sighed with a light shove. “I told you about him.”
“Right. The underwear model who is also a Biochem major and lives twelve hours away.” Stiles’s grin only grew. “Where did you say you met him, again?”
“… Summer camp.”
Liam winced, belatedly.
Okay, that did sound bad. It wasn’t a lie, but - his first meeting with Theo was complicated, okay? Summer camp was the easiest way to explain without going into a thirty minute rant that, admittedly, sounded just as ridiculous as meeting a model at a summer camp he didn’t go to.
“Uh huh. Sure, buddy.” The older young man ruffled an affectionate hand through raven hair, ignoring the puppy-like scowl he got in response. “Hey, how’s the whole lacrosse captain thing going for you? Anyone giving you trouble?”
Liam would have liked to push the topic further, irritation itching at his chest, but he took the change in topic for the reprieve it was, making a mental note to vent to Theo later over the phone.
~
“You - shut up, you dick -“
“An underwear model.” Theo’s wheezed laughter echoed through the phone that Liam had tossed on his bed while he rifled through his closet for his lacrosse gear. “Baby, I’ll model underwear for you as much as you want, but I’m not one for exhibitionism.”
“It’s not my fault!” the lacrosse captain exclaimed, his hair tousled and messy as he finally emerged from the piles of clothes with his spare lacrosse stick. “I don’t know where the fuck they got it from, I just mentioned that you model, and somehow they got underwear model from that.”
“I hope you told them I do other things, too, or I’m going to think you’re only dating me for my looks.”
With a groan, Liam flopped onto his mattress, turning on his stomach to face the screen of his phone, where the contact Theodork blinked along with the ticking time, measuring the length of their call.
“I did, but - ” An irritated huff, and something in his stomach clenched, foreign to the burn of annoyance as he buried his face in his arms.
“But what, baby wolf?” Theo’s voice through the speakers went from teasing to raspy concern the longer he went without answering. “You okay?”
“Stiles said it sounds better if my fake boyfriend is an underwear model,” the other young man managed to grumble out. “Scott and Malia agreed.”
“Fake boyfriend?” His very real and very bewildered boyfriend repeated.
“Fake boyfriend.”
“Aren’t you the youngest captain of the best lacrosse team in California?” Theo still sounded deeply confused. “Why the hell wouldn’t they believe that you have a boyfriend?”
“It’s not me that’s unbelievable, it’s you,” Liam complained. “You’re a Bio major, and a model, and you volunteer at summer camps while, like, saving puppies from burning buildings.”
A smug hum.
“You’re right, I am pretty amazing.”
“Okay, asshole, I’m hanging up on you before you inflate your own ego any more.” Liam rolled his eyes, but his voice softened against his will, lying in his empty apartment with only Theo’s presence through the phone as his company. “Call me after lacrosse practice?”
“Yeah, of course.”
The quiet I miss you they exchanged before hanging up sounded a little like I love you.
~
The lacrosse team had their first game of the season two weeks later, so amidst his mess of homework and extra practices, Liam was forced out to the café with Scott, Stiles, and Malia - Mason and Corey were out on a date, and Kira had an exam - on the basis that he “needs to eat real food,” and “instant ramen doesn’t count as food, Liam.”
During a brief pause in the conversation, Liam pulled out his phone to text Theo.
Liam: are you coming to the game?
He knew Theo was busy. Their calls had been less frequent, his boyfriend distracted and tired, but he still held out a modicum of hope.
The reply came a few minutes later.
Theo: can’t. early flight. Sorry baby :(
Liam: S’okay
Liam: call me when you land?
He didn’t get a response.
“Liam, put your phone away and interact with us,” Stiles complained aloud, jerking him out of his thoughts. “Young people like you need regular social interaction for healthy brain development.”
“You’re only a year older than me,” the young man in question shot back. “I was just texting Theo -“
A long groan from Malia, who had a chocolate muffin half-stuffed in her mouth, chocolate smeared over her cheek and chestnut hair tied up in a messy, haphazard bun.
“Could you stop with the fake boyfriend?” Her mouth was full, the words muffled, prompting a grimace from Scott as he leaned over the table with a napkin to wipe the chocolate off of his girlfriend’s face. “We already know he’s not real.”
Liam blanched.
“He is real.” His brow scrunched up. “I told you to ask Mason and Corey -“
“Mason and Corey, your best friends, who would go along with anything you say?” Stiles let out a long sigh, weariness and a little bit of frustration coloring his mole-speckled features. “Listen, it was funny at first, the whole model boyfriend thing, but after a while you need to let the joke drop, dude.”
Something clenched in Liam’s chest, hard and aching.
A muscle in his jaw twitched.
“Fine.”
He didn’t talk about Theo again.
~
They won, with three minutes left on the clock.
Liam let himself get swept up in the celebrations, ignoring the hollow gnaw at his heart when his call, hidden and half-dressed amidst the bustling locker room, went unanswered.
~
The after-game celebrations were in full-swing by the time Scott meandered his way over to answer the melodic ring of the doorbell, the sound almost buried beneath the cacophony of laughter and chatter that filled the crowded penthouse.
Malia let Kira organize the party at her place - huge and expansive enough to hold double the lacrosse team, plus some - and use her credit card to buy alcohol (her family was very rich, and very scary, Scott shuddered at the thought of the time he’d met her cousin Derek), so Scott had a red solo cup of fruit punch in one hand, pleasantly tipsy but not quite enough to be considered drunk as he pried open the bleach-white door.
“Hey, who are you …”
He stared, his sentence trailing off into shocked silence.
The man standing in the hallway stared back.
He was all roguish debauchery, with dark hair swept and mussed as if he’d run a hand through it, framing the glimmer of calculating, curious green eyes, as if the tilt of his mouth and the light stubble across his sharp jawline didn’t highlight the curve of his flawless features enough. Even with the red jersey he’d thrown overtop a loose grey hoodie, the drape of the fabric and the width of his shoulders suggested hours of gym-built muscle that would make anyone drool.
Scott hadn’t realized how long he’d been gaping until the other man cleared his throat, shifting in mild discomfort.
“I’m looking for Liam.” A flicker of his gaze over his shoulder, at the party still going on in the apartment. “Liam Dunbar?”
“Oh, oh, yeah, um - come on in -“ Scott rushed to step out of the way, letting the unfamiliar - guest? - slip past as he pushed the door shut. “Uh - what did you say your name was, again?”
“I didn’t.”
The grin he gave was all teeth, knowing and purposeful, not unlike a cat toying with its prey. “Since you’re wondering, though, it’s Theo.”
Scott watched as he turned around, scanned over the name emblazoned across the back of his jersey, the Dunbar spelled out in giant white letters, and eloquently thought, Oh, shit.
~
Liam grumbled under his breath at his phone, illuminated blue beneath the strobing lights, glaring at the short I’m on my way text he’d gotten from his best friend fifteen minutes prior. His best friend who still hadn’t arrived at the party.
“Where the hell is your boyfriend, Corey?” He flicked a few strands of raven hair away from his face, sighing at the young man in front of him who lazily sipped from a red solo cup filled with an unidentifiable mysterious liquid. “He said he was bringing me a surprise.”
“He’ll be here,” Corey assured, an uncontrollable, small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, one that he tried to hide in another sip of his drink. “I don’t think his surprise would let him bail.”
Before that vague answer could be questioned any more, Brett sauntered up to the pair with an aggravating grin, waggling his brows and motioning in the direction of the kitchen.
“I think you have a fan, Dunbar,” he drawled. “Hot guy on your six is wearing your jersey.”
Wearing his -
Liam turned.
Blue eyes roved over the red fabric splayed over broad shoulders, the white-lettered Dunbar seared overtop a matching number nine, the stubble-dusted sharp jawline tilted toward Scott, the curl of recently-dried dark hair and the curve of pink lips into a familiar, lazy smile.
“Theo?”
His head jerked up at the sound of his name, and that sharp-eyes gaze rose, searching through the crowd, until the glint of green irises met bright, wide summer blue.
Liam lunged.
He shoved past the bodies in his way, because the only one he cared about was the one that he pounced on, the hands that gripped at his thighs as he wrapped them around the waist hidden beneath his jersey, the mouth that crushed against his with greedy eagerness and the dark hair that spilled between the clutch of his fingers.
“Liam -“ A murmur, a soft gasp, swallowed by the seal of his lips and the stroke of his tongue. “Baby wolf -“
Liam whined a little when Theo pulled back, his subsequent pout and mock-glare eliciting an affectionate laugh that lit up his boyfriend’s entire face, his grin crinkling the corners of his green eyes and ruining their next kiss, both of them unable to stop smiling and actually kiss instead of just managing to pressing gentle, chaste pecks to the curve of the other’s lips.
“You - you said you couldn’t come to the game - you giant asshole.” Liam was breathless and wide-eyed and flushed pink with delirious joy, the hands on his thighs squeezing once before setting him back on the ground, though they resettled around his hips moments later. “You said you had a flight.“
Theo - just as flushed, just as breathless - couldn’t hide the impossibly fond grin that softened his handsome features, his dark hair disheveled and his mouth beautifully red due to the work of the young man in his arms.
“I did.” His fingers reached up to tuck away a stray lock of Liam’s raven hair, trailing down to rub a thumb over his cheekbone, tender and gentle. “I flew in a few hours ago. You have Mason to thank for picking me up and letting me steal his couch for a nap.”
Mason.
As if on cue, the lacrosse captain’s best friend waltzed through the crowd up to them, a cup of coffee in his hands, his expression creased with a relieved - if not slightly exhausted - cheeky smile.
“Mason Hewitt, you little shit.”
Liam let go of Theo only to wrap his friend up in a tight, back-breaking hug, crushing his ribs and the fabric of his bomber jacket with the force of it.
“I take it you like your surprise?” Mason managed to wheeze out, still smiling as he held his coffee out of the line of fire.
“Is that even a question?” Liam pulled back, and, voice softening with sincerity, said, “Thank you. I owe you one, really.”
“Just stop moping and we’ll call it even.”
He let go of the other young man at Corey’s approach, watching the pair of them greet each other with a quick kiss as he sunk back into Theo, curling into the arm that draped around him with a pleased hum.
He dropped a hand to his boyfriend’s waist, fingers playing with the crimson mesh fabric of his jersey, while Corey welcomed Theo with a casual, “Hey, nice to see you made it,” and a pat on the shoulder.
“What the fuck?”
Stiles’s screech echoed above the cacophonous noise of the party, startling them into looking toward the source.
Stiles, Scott, Malia, and Brett all gaped at them, jaws slack with shock. The remnants of a spilled drink stained Brett’s white shoes a muddy brown.
Liam couldn’t help but feel a little bit smug.
“Oh, yeah, Theo, these are my friends.” He motioned to each of them, in order, without dislodging his grip. “Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski, Malia Tate, and Brett Talbot. Guys, this is Theo Raeken.” A wide, toothy grin, just on the edge of predatory. “My boyfriend.”
The gaping did not cease.
“Holy shit, you’re real,” Malia said, while Scott burst out, “Theo Raeken? From fourth grade?“ and Stiles sputtered, “Theo? But you look so - so -“
Theo gave them one of the half-smirks that used to infuriate Liam - one that still did, under certain circumstances - and thumbed at the skin just above the waistband of Liam’s jeans, purposeful and slow, exuding all the lazy, unimpressed confidence of someone who was hot and knew it.
“I guess I do look a little different, now,” he drawled. “Being twenty-three instead of nine does that to you.”
The Theo that Liam got to have, when they were alone together, was a giant dork who scrunched his nose when he woke up and had a bigger sweet tooth than a honey bear, but the lacrosse captain had to admit that - unfortunately - he loved cocky asshole Theo, too. Even if it sometimes made him want to simultaneously punch his boyfriend in the face and tear off his clothes in the process of pushing him into the bedroom.
“Did you know about this?” Stiles pointed an accusatory finger at Liam, his eyes narrowed. “The fact that you’re dating our childhood friend from fourth grade?”
“It might have come up.” A non-committal shrug and a small smile. “Not many people named Stiles Stilinski in California.”
“You - we are talking about this later, you little runt -“
“Wait, hold up -“ Malia interrupted. “Does that mean you really did meet at summer camp?”
Liam did not like the following grin that lit up Theo’s face.
“Liam, have you been telling people we met at summer camp?”
“Shut up -“
“Oh, but don’t you think they want to hear the real story, baby wolf? Especially the part when you -“
Liam promptly slapped his hand over his boyfriend’s mouth, but, unfortunately, he had two other best friends who were more than delighted to pick up where Theo left off, speaking fast enough that the words were barely comprehensible.
“Oh my god, okay, so you know how Corey’s family owns a farm -“
“ - Liam is a hopeless city slicker -“
“ - We got roped into doing chores -“
“ - Escaped cows -“
“ - Literally all the way through the town -“
“ - And then we ran into Theo, with his assigned campers -“
“ - Covered in mud, Liam looked like something out of a horror movie -“
“ - Two days later, Theo showed up at my place -“
“ - Wolf onesie -“
“And that’s why Theo calls him baby wolf,” Mason finished with a proud grin. “They didn’t start dating until Christmas, but we can tell that story later.”
“Oh, thank god, that’s not a kink thing.” Stiles rubbed a hand down his face with a relieved sigh.
“I hate all of you,” Liam grumbled out.
Theo curled his fingers around the other young man’s wrist and pulled it away from his mouth, pressing a kiss to his palm with an affectionate, mischievous smile, his expression softening with fondness.
“No, you don’t.” Dark lashes cast shadows over his cheeks, highlighting the glint of green eyes and the part of his lips. “At least, I hope you don’t, or the next week is going to be very awkward.”
“You’re staying for a week?” Blue eyes lit up with delight.
“Seven days exactly, baby wolf.”
Liam physically could not keep his hands off of Theo any longer, and surged up to crash their mouths together, arching into the hands that flattened over his spine and fisting his own into the mesh fabric of the jersey Theo wore.
The kiss definitely wasn’t appropriate for public audiences, but neither of them cared very much, too wrapped up in each other to pay attention to their surroundings until someone - loudly and pointedly - cleared their throat.
With a half-muffled groan of irritation, Theo detached himself from his boyfriend - ignoring the way said boyfriend just started to pepper ticklish kisses down the line of his throat - and let out a snap of, “What?”
“As much as I love you both, I really don’t think -“
“Get a room!” Malia interrupted Mason’s attempt at subtlety, her mouth full of the caramel popcorn she’d managed to source from somewhere. “Nobody wants to see you deflower our child.”
“I’m surprised you think I was the one doing the deflowering -“
“Malia, you are a genius.” Liam’s entire face lit up, his fingers promptly latching onto Theo’s wrist as he dragged him toward the nearest exit.
He completely ignored his best friend’s protests of, “Wait, but what about Theo’s suitcase -“ and slammed the door shut in their wake.
A soft, affectionate chuckle sounded through the empty hallway.
“You do know all my clothes are in Mason’s car, right?” Green eyes and the quirk of his mouth glimmered with the type of barely restrained amusement, darkened with hunger, that had Liam’s tongue unconsciously darting out to wet his lips.
“You won’t be needing them.” His voice dipped into a low purr, goading, tempting, as a free finger hooked into the belt loop of his boyfriend’s jeans, tugging him closer. “At least not tonight.”
Theo cocked an eyebrow.
“Promises, promises.” His half-smile grew, all conceited arrogance, but he followed Liam’s pull easily, leaning in to murmur, “Lead the way, sweetheart.”