Teen wolf one-shots

Your the highlight of my lowlife (MATURE) (THIAM)

This is really long but really good, trust me. :)

There's nothing quite as satisfying as the sound that lacrosse balls make when they hit the net, or the way the net itself billows out with the momentum, or the thud when the ball finally hits the ground again, and rolls a few paces before coming to a halt.

Liam fires another five balls in a row straight into the goal, then takes a break to stretch his arms out. The floodlights illuminate the individual hairs on his arm as they stand up, the breeze chilling the sweat on his body. Technically he's not meant to be here so late that he has to turn on the lights just to see where the goal is, at least not without a faculty member there, but along with Scott he's the star player, and Coach has never exactly been above breaking the rules if it serves him well - and Liam getting some extra practice in does serve him well.

Liam can't say he hates it either. Lacrosse is a way for him to control the anger that near constantly thrums in his veins, cools the urge to punch by replacing it with tackles and powerful throws. Without thinking, he reaches down to scoop up another ball, but his stick catches on the uneven surface of the field and he swipes half of the remaining pile backwards, some rolling as far as the bleachers. Liam curses under his breath and runs a hand through sweaty hair.

Part of him wants to ignore it, but another part, the one that hates when things aren't exactly in place and orderly, insists that he go and collect the truant balls. He kicks them back towards the others as he finds them, pleased to see that his aim is just as good when he's using his feet rather than his hands. One has rolled under the first row of the bleachers, hovering just out of reach from ground level, so Liam hops up onto the seats and flattens himself, reaching his arm between the gap to retrieve the ball.

As he's fishing around for it, he thinks he sees a movement under the bleachers, but gets distracted when his fingers finally curl around the escapee ball. But then he sees it again, and jerks upright and hits his shoulder on the metal above him. His yelp of pain echoes around the lacrosse pitch, embarrassingly high-pitched, but he's more focused on the chuckle that he definitely heard.

Liam slides off the bleachers and walks backwards, keeping his eyes on the dark figure he can see lest he disappears, and grabs his phone from where he'd abandoned his stuff on one of the benches. Blindly, he fumbles with the passcode, walking back towards the origin of the noise, and with random swiping somehow manages to activate the torch. Now armed with the gift of sight, he advances cautiously, ducking under the metal seats, shining the light in front of him.

Theo Raeken, smoking a cigarette, stares at him, looking more unimpressed than anyone ever has before him. Even in the unforgiving glare of the phone torch he looks magazine ready, hair tousled and clothes artfully rumpled, stubble just the right length and skin clear as always. He inhales from the stick and then blows out smoke while he stubs it out, orange ember fading slowly. He tilts his head to the side, like he's considering Liam.

"You're Theo Raeken," Liam blurts, and tries to cover how awkward he feels by making his tone ten times too cheerful. He winces internally, wishing he could go back those few seconds and maybe not screw up his first time talking to the resident 'bad boy', as Scott calls him (with something close to reverence in his voice), or 'guy you want to punch in the balls' as Stiles would say (with not reverence so much as unbridled jealousy). Either way, Theo takes no shit, from students and teachers, but gets away with it because his grades are actually pretty good and he's got a pretty face. Kind of amazing how much of an asshole you can be when your jawline was modelled after a Greek god's. More like an Adonis, though, not Hephaestus - sorry, dude.

In his inner monologue about cool kids and ancient mythology, he misses most of what Theo says, but sees his lips moving and manages to focus his mind enough to catch the tail end of the sentence. "-illegal to be here this late?"