HIT THE FLOOR: SO COLD
**Disclaimer:: I do not own Teen Wolf or any recognizable characters, artistic inventions, etcetera. Jeff Davis developed it; Monica Macer produced it, and MTV airs it. I do not own the song So Cold or any of its lyrics. It was written by Benjamin Burnley, produced by David Bendeth, and performed by the band Breaking Benjamin. I do not, did not, and will not make any money from writing this.**
A/N: Wanted to throw in my attempt at an AU where Matt wasn't the kanima's Master, but he was a kanima too. Jackson and Matt share the same Master, not sure if that can actually happen but it's an AU so… now it can. I think it's obvious who the Master is in this, but I wrote it so… it's probably obvious. Whatevs. Lemme know what you think in a review please!
I'm also sorry for those of you who were waiting on an update for Kidnap The Sandy Claws. I have it written but I left it at my cousin's house in Spain on my USB. It's getting mailed over but I'm unsure as to when it will arrive in the US. Please be a little more patient!(:
Crowded streets are cleared away
One by One
Hollow heroes separate
As they run
You're so cold
Keep your hand in mine
Wise men wonder while strong men die
Jackson stared across the library, briefly meeting the eyes of his Master as the shorter man mumbled along in irritancy. His blood felt as though it was vibrating as it coursed through his veins, anticipation replacing all of his white blood cells while the urge to please his Master replaced the red blood cells. He had his orders. Orders he was instructed to act in accordance with, and Jackson fully intended to. The both of them did, and their Master was confident in his plan that, in the end, all would be perfect and those guilty would perish.
Jackson struggled against the smile that was tempted to pull at his lips and feigned illness instead. The mechanic… Mr. Lahey… the hunter… the couple from last night… Master had been so proud. Jackson thought back to those times and how he'd pleased his Master. He had to look down to hide his face from Allison's jumpy looks, a smile breaking through against Jackson's will.
Matt was sitting across from him. Before he sat down, he locked eyes with Jackson and they shared a passing thought before nodding at each other curtly. Matt too had his orders to fulfill, mumbling under his breath at his electronic copy of the Bestiary, just loud enough for Allison to hear and do a curious double-take. Matt allowed himself to look abashed at being heard "talking to himself" and put his Samsung Galaxy Tablet down, pulling forwards his bag of chips instead. Matt offered Jackson the bag chips and Jackson declined. They wordlessly argued; their eyebrows spoke in depths, over Jackson not talking any of them for several moments while their Master prepared everything, setting the scene.
"Jackson," He was given his command via thought and the incited teen started acting feverish and headachy. He stood and headed to leave the room. "Matt…" The still seated boy was impelled.
"You okay?" Matt asked with a feigned concern and curiosity. Jackson just nodded, saying something about needing some water. Of course he was okay. He was going to be okay. Everything was going to be okay. Jackson knew that, and Matt knew that, and his Master knew that too. Then again Master always knew. He knew how Jackson felt, when things were getting too rough on him, how to make it all better.
In the bathroom, he pressed the heel of his hand into his groin. He wanted his master to make it all better… He panted and cracked his neck in front of the mirror, scolding himself for his body's reaction. He had a job to do for fucks sake. If he did it well enough then perhaps Master would reward him—and Matt of course. He loved his Master's rewards…
His prick throbbed he needed it, but now wasn't the time for that. He couldn't seem to physically remove his hand from his erection.
"Head on out, Jackson," his Master permitted. He couldn't walk out with a boner! Matt would—his Master would—ugh. Scott was in the library, Jackson unenthusiastically remembered. The reminder of Scott's painful existence in Jackson's life led him to the remembrance of how the werewolf had his head practically shoved up the female hunter's ass most of the time. Thinking of Allison slowly but surely turned Jackson completely off, especially when he had the briefest flashback of himself nude on top of the archer. He gagged and shivered in a disgusted convulse.
Jackson walked out of the bathroom confidently, his head held high. He sat down once he was back in the library and mumbled to Matt briefly. He made a point of avoiding looking at his Master, something that Matt had been doing so casually with his bag of chips.
Five minutes passed.
Then five more went by.
The six teenagers were alone in the library. Matt and Jackson glanced at each other, Matt's eyebrows drawn together in puzzlement.
"You okay, dude?" Matt asked loud enough for Erica to hear them from the next bookcase over, even without her amped up werewolf senses. Jackson nodded. They were both getting concerned. Why was their master waiting so long? Was he changing the quickly made plans into something more elaborate? What was he waiting—?
"Jackson," Jackson blinked. "Close your eyes, Jackson." His Master instructed. He didn't understand and started to shake involuntarily, sweating. What about the plan, what about—? "Close them now." His Master commanded, getting aggravated. Jackson clenched his eyes shut, berating himself in every single little way for questioning his Master's motives. His Master shushed him in comfort.
"Master…" Had he spoken it his breath would have hitched and whimpering pathetically. Had they been wolves he would have laid belly-up and bared his neck to his alpha. He didn't want to disappoint… he wanted… he wanted to…
"Make me proud, pretty boy."Jackson dropped his book, the noise muffled by Allison and Stiles' voices coming to some sort of awe-inspiring conclusion. Jackson's eyes flashed gold, claws elongating as the scales on his neck and back emerged. He grabbed Matt by the back of his neck and pulled him towards himself roughly, their foreheads pressing together with a soft noise from the collision.
"Don't fuck it up," Matt whispered to him and Jackson barely heard him, even with his own enhanced hearing. Jackson drew him into a harsh kiss of teeth and tongues and scraped the back of his neck with a venom-laced talon as Allison whispered Scott's name loudly. The plan was in motion the nanosecond before Matt even hit the floor.
Over the next few weeks nothing of much significance happened. Master laid out convenient events that were to happen, all of those arrangements accosted with a finger pointing at Matt as the Master. The two kanima had laughed after their Master left. It was a stretch, and they weren't going to question or go against the plan, but Matt? Being the Master? Yeah right, like that would ever happen! He liked being on his back too much to man up and tell anyone what to do.
It was Wednesday, the day of Lydia's birthday party. They were all there, Jackson had arrived five minutes ago and this all rested on Scott, this final part of that day's plan. In his clear sight, Jackson pulled Matt out of the pool and the two looked the werewolf dead in the eye, as if daring him to say something; as if daring him to do something. They both saw something click in Scott's dimwitted, Allison-obsessed eyes.
The two left the party before Scott did when the cops came. Only moments before him though, they had to be sure he saw them together to confirm his probable suspicions. Scott did see them. Scott saw, thought, and completely believed everything that their Master wanted him to. Scott was just another card ready to be tossed out of their Master's hand, and though Matt and Jackson didn't believe it would work, they were proved wrong. Master was always right.
Two hours later, the Stilinskis, Master, the mutt, the Argents, and the McCalls were all at the police station, held at claw and/or gun point. Derek was paralyzed on the floor with the loudmouthed boy beside him being strangely silent, the Sheriff was chained to a wall, and Mrs. McCall was in a holding cell.
Allison Argent was dead.
Chris Argent was dead.
A gurgling sound was heard.
Sheriff John Stilinski was dead.
Derek was desperately trying to save Stiles from the commotion going on around them. By the time he finally got around and pulled Stiles up, the kanima—Jackson—showed up seconds later. Derek dropped Stiles and attacked the lizard with all his might, protecting Stiles with his life as the Batman-wannabe watched on in fear. Where the ever-loving-fuck was Scott?
"Matt, what's taking you so long with the old man?"
"He's chasing me, what do I do, what do you want me to do?" His tone was bordering on a panic. The Argents weren't even a part of the plan! The kanima scratched Derek and the werewolf fell for the second time. Stiles' breathing increased as he watched him go down.
"Babe, the river…"
"He thinks you're the Master, Matt. He'll want control over Jackson, and he'll try to kill you to get it." He would try, but he wouldn't succeed. Matt couldn't die. Not before killing Master.
"I know you're scared, baby," The term of endearment calmed down the frightened teen slightly. He had to rush; Jackson had to do his part in this too and Scott was still mobile and running around like a chicken with its head cut off. "But would I make you go through something that scared me?"
"Am I afraid of water?"
"Go, baby. Make it believable."
"I love you, Master—"
"I love you!"
Matt's train of though was jumbled with memories of his untimely first death and panic as Gerard Argent took him down and held his throat under the water. Matt was frantically pleading for his Master to stop, convinced he was being punished for something, apologizing profusely. Scott walked into the room that the alpha mutt was in.
"Jackson!" Scott roared, trying to get the lizard to come back to his senses, but he was easily evaded as the kanima dived to the side and scratched him with three of his claws, pushing out as much venom as he possibly could, just as he'd done with Derek's four scratches. Jackson ran out of the building in the direction of the bridge and Stiles sobbed.
"Hurry, Jackson!" The connection between Matt and his Master cut out briefly.
Seconds later, when Jackson's hand touched Gerard's, it held no meaning whatsoever. If anything, Jackson felt dirty and violated. Quietly, Matt moved his body, shakily shifting into his own kanima form. Matt scratched Gerard's nape and the man turned, ready to attack despite his numbing limbs when Jackson jumped on him, standing on the old man's upper back and holding the back of his head underwater with a foot. When he fell limp and his heartbeat disappeared for good, the two kanima ran together in an untamed rush towards the police station to finish what they started.
"Derek's moving, run!"
When the last syllable left their Master's mind, they arrived in the room; one through the door, the other through the window next to it in the tiny office.
"Scott!" Derek called as he turned around and looked feral, he had been moving Stiles when he smelled the lizard, no—lizards. His heart was pounding in a hidden horror, why were there two of them?! Where was Matt and who the hell was the other Master?! "Get up!" He moved in front of Stiles to protect the human from the vengeful creature—creatures—once again.
"Derek…" the human whispered; heartbeat irregular.
"I know, Stiles! You're gonna be fine."
"Kill him. And the human."
The two lizards jumped, both going after the Alpha, making sure to scratch McCall once or twice just to be sure he wouldn't interfere. Stiles received one or two, but Derek was always there to shield the human from the flying claws, batting them away with his own set. Derek went down and Matt followed him quickly, swiftly taking a large bite at his neck. Derek's throat was torn out and Stiles had a brief moment to remember what he'd threatened to do to Stiles—ripping his throat out…with his teeth. Derek was gurgling on his own throat…
Derek Hale was dead.
Scott choked at the sight and roared; Stiles screamed before the scent of his vomit slowly filled the room, his screams filling the air once more after his stomach emptied itself of its contents from the sight. Melissa McCall cried out her son's name just as Mr. Stilinski had before he died. Jackson ran and her screams got louder before they were abruptly cut off.
Melissa McCall was dead.
The two boys lay sobbing on the floor, one propped against the wall, and the other in a slowly building pool of Derek's blood as the kanima went to town on his corpse.
"The supply closet. Go now, reinforcements are arriving." The flashing lights of the police cars could be seen through the low windows. Matt turned his head and saw what his Master was talking about. Matt made quick work of slicing through Derek's waist, his body being torn in half. The spinal cord snapped when forced and the blood-soaked kanima took his time lifting up the loudly crying human like he was a sobbing babe. Jackson returned, covered in momma McCall's blood. Claws dripping venom, he lifted the mourning son and pricked him with a nail to cease the mourning teen wolf, throwing him over his shoulder. They dumped the boys in the closet unceremoniously, and slammed the door shut behind them.
After a few seconds, the bloody lizard reentered the closet momentarily. He glanced at the two boys and flicked the lock on the door, hissing quietly. He backed away and shut the door quietly, rushing off with the other kanima to go home. Stiles was a wreck, his sobs turned into loud screams that didn't even seem loud enough for the boy's own two ears in the small room. Scott's sobs were close to following.
"So proud of you both, my beautiful boys. So fucking proud. So fucking proud…"
"Gerard," Stiles yelled. "He did this, he wanted the pack gone, he threatened to—your mom… he did this, he killed my dad… dad… daddy!" His echoed wails were heard by the backup men who broke off the lock and handle of the door and then carried the two weak, bloodied, broken boys out of the closet and into a waiting ambulance.
That moment would go down as the Argent Incident. The school closed for a good two weeks until everything was back on schedule and everything was cleaned up and the town was calmed down. The Argent house was closed off for further investigation when the plethora of guns and other illegal weapons were found stashed in the basement.
The police called it a murder homicide. They weren't quite sure how to explain the mess with Derek Hale being there, or the mess that he turned into, but by the way it looked the Argents were out for something. Three police men, a police woman, and an innocent nurse, were killed along with the Sheriff. Derek Hale and the three Argents were in on the act.
The story told by the boys was that Matt walked in with a gun, threatening them, the sheriff and Scott's mom, and went to kill them all, but the Argents followed in soon after with their own surplus of arms. Hell broke loose and the two teens managed to hide themselves in the closet, tripping over bodied on the way. Stiles had mentioned that Matt had disappeared early on and noted that it was weird.
When the police actually found Matt two hours after the teens were interrogated he was being comforted by Jackson in an empty park. The blonde boy's clean clothes had the blood from Matt's clothes on them, staining the cotton. Matt was crying and shaking hysterically, a pool of vomit not far from the two of them. When he was taken in for questioning, the boy managed to say that they threatened his mother, told him that they'd kill her and him if he didn't comply.
Three and a half hours later, the woman was unable to get a hold of.
Three and a half days later, the woman was declared missing.
The Whittemore family decided that, sure the kids fucked up with their little "kidnapping Jackson prank," but no child deserved to lose both of their parents and be thrown into foster care. They thought the same with their baby, Jackson, when they took him in as a toddler. Stiles and Scott were moved in with the Whittemore family. Stiles and Jackson grew closer. Scott was adamant and persistent with his dislike of the fact that he was staying with them and that the two boys were growing closer while he was being isolated. Danny offered to take in Scott after one complaint too many, which Scott accepted graciously.
"He killed your father, Stiles!" Scott had yelled—scolded, actually—in rage; spit flying as his eyes glowed golden.
"No he didn't," Stiles had disagreed emotionlessly. "Allison did. They found an arrow, you know, it was laced in some type of poison. It was in his neck, Scott." Scott hadn't known that. He gasped.
"What..? No, they—they… she… no, she couldn't..?" He didn't even sound like he believed himself. Pathetic; and he had the audacity to call himself Stiles' friend? Stiles' best friend nonetheless?
"Yeah," Stiles said through a melancholic scoff. "She could. In fact, she actually did. You were at the funeral, you saw him lying there," Stiles reminded Scott bitterly choking out his words at the memory with a hand gesture to the side, as if the casket were on display next to them in the cafeteria. "So thanks for that..." He shook his head, face downcast and growing angry. "You know after all those times that I helped you two and never even asked for anything back. Or when I did ask you for help and you blew me off because you were with her. I mean shit, Scott! I fucking helped you unquestionably a million and a half times, and you don't even have the decency to watch the fucking news once in a while and find out that the very girl that was tearing our fucking twelve year friendship apart was the same heartless bitch that killed my father!? But no, you can't even hold any resentment towards her! No, you go and defend her crazy ass, when there's no point to! It's not cute anymore, okay? I mean are all guys really this stupid, or are they all just sex-driven? You know, cuz she can't fuck you now, Scott! And even with her gone you somehow still don't have time for me because of her!" Stiles was pissed and he was hurt, he didn't intend on blowing up on Scott like that in the middle of the cafeteria, but things happen when they happen, and sometimes... shit happens.
Everyone around them, everyone in the cafeteria was standing still, gaping; in shock. Everyone knew how close they were, and they all knew how rare it was to see an angry Stiles. Even the teachers on their lunch breaks didn't dare make a sound, knowing that they shouldn't let this argument continue to pan out, yet they were still waiting to see how it would all end, how Scott would respond to the boys claims and accusations.
He didn't respond though. Not really, but his inability to fish out the words that he needed to say did just as much good as telling Stiles to go fuck himself would have done. Scott was stuttering the ninth letter of the alphabet like it was going to miraculously salvage their rapidly diminishing friendship. Stiles shook his head in a mixture of disappointment, disgust, sorrow, shame, and pity. Across the room Jackson stepped forward and threw out his recently purchased food, plastic tray and all. The Whittemore withdrew his keys from his pocket hesitantly, watching the emotionally wounded ADHD boy.
"Fuck you, Scott." Stiles whispered, but the whole cafeteria heard him say it anyway. To Scott he might as well have yelled it over the loud-speakers like they had when they tried to lure the alpha wolf to them. Stiles walked out of the cafeteria, Jackson trailing after him immediately.
Everyone slowly got into their regular routine of sitting with their friends and getting their food. They quietly whispered about what just occurred, texting their friends who were in class about it, openly watching the teen wolf. Scott stood there until the bell rang and stared blankly at his shoes with wide eyes until it did, thinking back on their friendship Scott finally realized just how shitty a friend he actually had been to Stiles.
The hyperactive boy had always been there for him. Stiles was there when he watched his—watched their first porno. He was there for Scott when he, for all of five minutes, thought he was gay for Danny in the sixth grade. He was there for him when Scott lost his father to emphysema. He was there for Scott's first kiss, much to Stiles' displeasure. Stiles was there for Scott when he lost his manlihood; when it turned into his wolflihood. Stiles was there for him when Scott nearly lost his mind on the first full moon. Stiles was there for him when they were trapped in the school with a temperamental Peter who was after their asses. He was there for Scott when they almost died at the hands of Peter too. Stiles was there for Scott whenever someone's life was put on the risk. He was there for him, literally, when he lost his girlfriend and he was there for him when he lost his mother too. And now, Stiles was there when he lost the only thing he had left—himself, his best friend, his anchor, his rock, his… Stiles.
Scott and Stiles distanced themselves from each other after that, not quite knowing exactly how to dance around the issue that Scott was a deadbeat friend from the get-go. Scott blamed himself for everything. Their parents were dead and Scott, had he been less attentive with Allison's death, could have protected them better. He could have gotten the two out of the police station easily with all the chaos going on around them. He could have stopped his crazy girlfriend—ex-girlfriend—late ex-girlfriend from killing his best friend's—ex-best friend's father and only other relative. He could have saved them all, but because of him they were all dead. And that's exactly how Stiles looked at Scott, like he was a murderer. That was kind of how Scott looked at himself too.
The town treated the two boys like they were porcelain, like they needed to be whispered to rather than talked to. Their first day back to school, when they walked into chemistry thirty minutes late, everyone stopped everything and just watched them walk to their seats and sit there blankly. Mr. Harris didn't even hassle either of them and he wouldn't until midway through their senior year next year. He sort of acted like they were only there when they chose to be, when they had a question or needed to use the bathroom. Most of their teachers did the same. Finstock didn't yell at either of them and allowed them to sit out during games or practice and not answer questions in class. Stiles continued to be a bench warmer and became very close with Lydia, Jackson, Danny, and Matt.
When Scott tried to say something about his friendship with Matt whilst alone in the field, the photographer turned into the kanima ("I can control it, just not particularly myself all the time") without saying a word. He shifted back just as easily. The lone wolf in Beacon Hills knew that a kanima couldn't be its own Master, let alone the Master of another kanima.
"I thought I told you to fuck off?" was what Stiles asked him as Matt slid an arm around the shoulders of the shorter haired boy. Stiles looked up at him and the two shared a brief kiss, a peck that held no lust or passion. Just a push of lip against lip. It was merely something that they did when they needed the comfort, the reassurance that "I'm here; I won't leave you for anyone because I'm not that type of friend." Stiles often kissed the three of them, Matt, Jackson, and Danny. He'd done it to Lydia once, but she didn't feel comfortable with the boy who'd been in love with her since the third grade kissing her. Lydia knew he was still hurting over his dad so she didn't yell or hit him, but she did let him know how she felt on the matter. Stiles accepted it and said nothing, only that he was over the strawberry blonde as gently as he possibly could tell her that.
Scott took the kiss the wrong way, just as he was meant to, and the two boys walked away from him without looking back, Matt's thumb rubbing a faded scar on the nape of Stiles' neck from the time in the police station before sliding down to squeeze at Stiles' ass. Scott seethed, growling, and Stiles rolled his eyes, knowing exactly the effect it had on Scott and that Matt meant for it to have said effect.
Scott left the lacrosse team after that and spent his afternoons beating up the trees around the Hale house, blaming himself for the death of his mother, his girlfriend, her family, his best friend's father, his would-be alpha and his most meaningful relationship that he took for granted time and time again—his friendship with Stiles.
The town was broken, but it was healing… it was still broken nonetheless. And in the center of it all, the Master lay with his servants, his pets, his lovers in the empty house of his childhood. Stroking their necks and running his hands through their hair as they nuzzled his neck and jaw line with their lips and noses. They trailed licks and kisses all the way down their Master's body to his pulsating member. He gasped loudly when their mouths and tongues just about fought over the head of his cock, one losing the battle and trailing down to suck in one of his balls while the other went to town on his cock. The kanima Master groaned in pleasure at the heat of the mouths on his genitals,
"I want Scott dead."
Thank you so much for reading! Please review! The next chapter will be out soon, promise!(: