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Everybody Bruises, Everybody Bleeds

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A/N: This idea just wouldn't leave me alone for a long time so I decided to write it. Takes place a little after Season 2 of Teen Wolf so it's AU now, because of the new series. Unbeta'd, and the Kick-Ass stuff is taken from both the comic book and the movie so apologies for any canon errors. Enjoy!


He’s not afraid of you; it’s only one of the first things that drew you to him. It’s also one of the few things that make up for the ridiculous costume he wears every time you meet outside the club, in the alleyway where the two of you first met a few months ago.

You saved his life that night, from a bunch of gangsters who looked like they had the upper hand, like they were about to beat the living daylights out of him, even though he fought back pretty well at the time.

He was bruised and battered by the end of it, the mask falling from his face to show his true identity. Your claws were covered in blood from the slashes you gave those assholes that ran like hell when they knew they were dealing with a werewolf.

“You owe me,” was the last thing you said before you turned your back and left. But you weren’t quite sure he knew you were serious, until you met him again in the same place two nights later.

Many a time you’ve had him up against the wall, the way you’re having him now. There’s no real reason why you’re doing this; maybe you’re just bored. Maybe being away from Beacon Hills - away from Scott - is taking its toll on you. Either way, you try not to think about it when your tongue slides down his mouth and your clawed fingers tear at the skin-tight suit he wears. You suffocate him with kisses while one hand leaving cuts along his chest and the other palms his cock, massaging him through the fabric until you feel his growing hardness.

He’s as horny as you would expect any lonely geek boy to be. He’s a lot like you in many ways. You’re both different than most people; both bored and you both get into fights more often than anyone else you know.

He misses someone, just like you miss Scott. The photograph of the girl you found under his bed one night told you everything you needed to know about his feelings for her. And there was that other photograph; the one of her going down on some other guy. You don’t know why he kept it, but it seems like he still loves her despite what she put him through. You feel sorry for him because of it it’s what made you want to stick around.

His best friend, and sidekick (or whoever the little girl is) has this look of distrust on her face every time you come over or when you and Dave go out. Though you suppose it’s natural, given what’s already happened to Dave before. But she doesn’t seem to mind when you’re around, or is cleverly hiding it. You’re not quite sure if she knows you’re a werewolf though, and it’s probably best that she doesn’t.

“Just so you know,” she said to you one morning over breakfast, while Dave was still asleep. “Dave isn’t gay, but he seems to really like you, so I’m glad you’re here for him”.

You laughed at that.

“I’m not gay either,” you replied. “But I’m honored to have your approval”.

It’s all a lie, thought. It always has been. You can see it in his eyes, even in this dark alleyway.

He kisses you until your lips bleed, and in his eyes you can see the emptiness. He’s reaching out for something, for someone, but that someone isn’t you. And you feel the same way. The hard kisses muffle the sounds you make so you’re not tempted to call out the wrong name.

You feel like a piece of shit, using someone like this. Dave is a good guy, and honest guy and a true superhero if you’ve ever met one. And you’re nothing but a monster, no matter how well you conceal the claws, the fangs and the glowing eyes.

You both love someone else, but are too pathetic to admit it. It’s why being with each other feels so empty.

When you go down on him and he comes in your mouth, he sounds like he’s in pain. Sex with him has been that way since day one. It’s never soft, tender or loving, but hard, rough, sticky and sweaty; a way to fill your base urges and a distraction from what you really want.

“I’m leaving here tonight,” you tell him as he leans against the wall, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m going back to Beacon Hills”.

“Whatever you gotta do,” he replies, sighing. It’s so devoid of emotion it almost hurts to hear him say it. But you know that the two of you don’t really care about each other, no matter how much you like to pretend.

You don’t even say goodbye when you walk away. Even the bruises and bite marks heal within seconds, leaving nothing but the emptiness, and the memory of Scott playing over and over inside your head.

“I’m coming home,” you whisper to the image of Scott looking at you with a smile; that tender smile that gives you butterflies, and cuts deep into your heart at the same time.

Your place isn’t here, and you know it. But it always feels good to get away for a while.