Jack&Teague [& Katy] stories 1-5

by Amy Lane

  “Forget that there’s a reason you’re a leader to us all.”

  “Aww, Jesus, shut up.”

  Teague’s shoulders moved in a little bit of private amusement, and he came back and sat down while Cory wielded the remote control.

  “No one’s said that to me in a long time,” he said and she laughed too, then reached over to his plate and snagged a cookie.

  “So what’d you dream about?” she asked, hitting pause on the remote after a moment.

  “Same shit,” he murmured, keeping his eyes on the frozen image on screen. There was silence for a weighted heartbeat and then he sighed. Might as well. Might as well spill his guts—she was listening.

  “First I’m a wolf, and I rip out Jacky’s heart, then I’m a human and I shoot Katy… good stuff, really.”

  Cory made a sympathetic sound. “Doesn’t take a genius to analyze that one.”

  Teague grunted, and she pressed play. They watched in silence for fifteen minutes, and he was beginning to wonder if she was going to leave it at that, until the first break in the dvd. The screen paused again, and he risked a look at her.

  Her knitting was still in her hand, and she was looking at him thoughtfully.

  “I was thinking about what I wanted to say,” she told him unnecessarily. “Because Green’s told me shit, and, well, we’ve both seen each other’s scars, you know?”

  Teague did know—but he didn’t realize she’d been paying attention. He grunted again and hoped that covered it.

  She gave a faint smile, her knitting still unnaturally still in her hands. “So you see, the thing I wanted to say is that it doesn’t have to be that way. I mean, my parents were decent. They never hit me. They didn’t get me, but they never hit me. It just wasn’t in them, so I’ve always known that love could be okay. But here, you’ve got even better, you know? You’ve got Green, and you’ve got Arturo and Grace and hell if you want to go for saccharine you’ve got Bracken’s parents who will just blow your mind with being in love and being good people and good parents and all.” She rolled her eyes and grinned at him, inviting him to share the joke, but he couldn’t, not just yet, so she continued on.

  “Because I think the thing is, maybe you’re afraid you’re going to hurt Jack & Katy because you don’t know how to operate when you’ve got the power to hurt someone. It’s like…”

  She gnawed her lip and looked away, and he was suddenly hit with the notion that the uncertainty was for show. She knew exactly what she wanted to say, but she was… translating it somehow. He blinked, and he realized that she was probably editing words like ‘surcease’ out of the explanation, so she could sound exactly like Teague, exactly like Katy—no fanciness, no reason to be ‘Lady Cory’. Just a kid with an idea, that’s all.

  His heart lurched, and he fell a little bit in love. Not ‘in love’ in love, not here, you can have my soul and dice it into shreds in love, like he loved Jacky. More like, I’ll take a bullet for you in love.

  “It’s like,” she continued, the exact right words she wanted him to hear replacing the exact right words she had planned to say in the first places, “you get a chance to see someone do it right when you’re here. I mean, I know the whole hill thing is freaking you out—you’re not used to being in the middle of a big family and Green’s already looking to fix up one of the little shack-thingies on the grounds for the three of you—but I thought while you were living here, you know, maybe you could look around and see that…”

  “Freaking me out?” he interrupted at the same time she blurted “See that love doesn’t have to hurt all the time,” and he blinked and then she blinked.

  “Well yeah,” she said after they looked at each other quizzically for a second. “What brand of moron do we look like, Teague? We can tell you’re not used to this—I mean, it’s a little claustrophobic in here when you are used to it. You, Jack, Katy—you’re going to want a little space. It’s no big deal, if you can wait for us to set you up, right?”

  “Uhm…” He was more than stunned, because he hadn’t said anything to Green. He’d thought about it, promised it to Jacky, but hadn’t wanted to test his luck. He liked living, well, near the hill, and he hadn’t wanted to offend Green or Cory by suggesting that it wasn’t right for them. “Uhm, right,” he murmured at last, still processing everything else she’d said, and she gave him a minute or two to do it.

  “Love doesn’t have to hurt,” he echoed after another one of those pauses, and she smiled a little and started to knit furiously. Whatever she was working on, it was smoky purple, crème, dark green-brown and really really big. It looked both masculine and lovely, and Teague wondered who it was for.

  “No,” she said after a moment, petting the soft wool fondly. “Love doesn’t have to hurt. Wanting things—wanting lovers—it doesn’t have to hurt. You’re entitled, Teague. Entitled to a life of your choosing, to lovers who will care for you. You’re a good person. You get to have those things. Trust me…”

  Padded footsteps cut her off, and she looked up almost guiltily as Bracken, her tall, brawny, dark-haired lover rounded the corner.

  “Shit,” she muttered, looking around frantically. In a completely unexpected move she took the thing she was working on and shoved it under her over-sized sleep-shirt.

  Teague blinked and clapped his hand over his stunned smile.

  “Are you coming to bed anytime soon?” Bracken asked darkly, and she folded her arms over the lump of wool in her shirt and smiled winsomely at him.

  “Uhm, yeah,” she said brightly, and Bracken started to chuckle, closing his eyes and opening them around the image of her hiding what was obviously a surprise of some sort for him.

  “If I give you a chance to put that away,” he said nodding in order to get her to agree with him, “will you come to bed soon?”

  Her grin was pure pixie, and Teague felt charmed and honored to see it.

  “Yes, beloved,” she sang sweetly. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  Bracken nodded and rolled his eyes in Teague’s direction. “That’s both of you—wolf-man, you’re like a teenager right now—you don’t work well without sleep. This is about the last time we should take you off the hill before your change, you know that right?”

  Teague nodded, suitably chastened. Green had already seen that most of his and Jacky’s little apartment would be packed up and sent to the hill. Their prized possessions—Teague’s models, Jacky’s books—had been installed in their room as it was. But they needed to get their mail and pay off the landlord and do all the little human business things like change-of-address forms that seemed to be required, and so this trip down to Sacramento. Jacky had asked, since they were going down and all, if he could stop by his parents and tell them he was moving up the hill.

  Jack wasn’t close to his parents, as far as Teague knew. For the last year and a half the guy had lived less than twenty minutes away, and he hadn’t visited them once since he and Teague had started rooming togeter—but Jacky was pretty sure they’d raise a ruckus if they didn’t know where he was. Green had given the okay—but reluctantly. It made sense that they do this, and this seemed to be a good time, but the whole hill was on alert for the two of them. The first change thing seemed to be pretty dramatic—and everybody wanted it to go smoothly.

  Bracken nodded back and winked, inviting Teague to laugh with him at Cory, who was looking both uncomfortable and angelic with that wad of knitting stuffed up her shirt. Teague grinned back, for once fully comfortable expressing joy in front of someone other than Jack.

  Bracken nodded and said, “Remember—you can’t lose sleep—not this week, you hear me?”

  Cory grimaced but seemed absolutely determined not to pick a fight. “If you have to wait more than five minutes for me, I promise I’ll let you cart me off to bed. Fair deal?”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” Bracken threatened, running a hand through his unruly cropped hair, and then he shook his head and left.

  When he was gone Cor
y slumped against the back of the couch and rolled her eyes. “You two laugh, but do you have any idea how hard it is to make a Christmas present for someone who is with you like a second skin? And he doesn’t sleep—seriously—I’ve had to have the vampires wake me up to tell me when he goes to bed for real because he usually just waits for me to fall asleep before coming out here and partying with the night life. Do you have any idea how big he is? Knitting that man a sweater on borrowed time is like squeezing the space-time continuum for water!”

  Her eyes narrowed and she glared at Teague, because he couldn’t help it—he was giggling helplessly, one hand clapped over his mouth to keep the unfamiliar sounds muffled, but giggling just the same.

  He shook his head and tried to shrug, but her indignant glare didn’t relent. “I’m so happy I could amuse you,” she said with dignity, and then she cracked a smile. “And I mean that, Teague.” She stood and dropped a playful kiss on the top of his head from behind the chair. “If you get nothing else from your time here, I hope you get to laugh. And now,” she yawned in earnest, “it’s time for good little sorceresses to go to bed.”

  With that she tucked her knitting deep into her knitting bag and handed Teague the remote before padding barefooted off to her room. Teague sat thoughtfully and ate cookies and watched the end of the Firefly episode before going back to bed himself. On his way, he passed Cory and Bracken’s room and heard Bracken’s voice, lecturing, and Cory’s voice, reassuring him. Bracken was obviously concerned about more than just a little late-night knitting, but Cory seemed to have the same genius for easing Bracken’s mind that she showed for easing Teague’s.

  When he got back to his room he shucked his sweats and pulled on clean underwear and slid back into bed with Jacky, and had a sudden fear that his werewolf bedmate would smell that innocent kiss on the top of his head and jump to totally the wrong conclusion.

  He needn’t have worried. Jacky folded Teague’s bantam body up in his long arms and snuffled sleepily at his neck. “Mmmm… cookies…” he mumbled, and Teague had a moment for another laugh before he surprisingly found sleep.

  Jacky

  Adolescent Rebellion

  Jack could remember his parents being distant and irritating. He could remember how disgusted he’d been when they hadn’t attended his sister’s funeral. He could remember how little he’d cared for their perfectly large, perfectly decorated, perfectly manicured house with the white carpet and the crème colored brocaded wallpaper and the taupe furniture. He could remember his father’s fake-hearty voice and his mother’s artificial smile, nose, and cheekbones. He could remember pretty much everything about why he’d stayed away from his parents for nearly the last two years.

  He just couldn’t remember hating them with such bone-deep, stomach-churning, hackle-raising, teeth-baring intensity.

  He glared as his father—resplendent in a white Tennis sweater and casual slacks—looked at Teague as though he was the carcass of vermin-ridden carrion. And Teague… Teague’s mouth was compressed into that expression Jack had seen him use in a barfight that Jack started. He’d thrown himself in front of Jack’s father like he’d thrown himself in front of the redneck who’d tried to pound Jack in that bar. His mouth was flat and his eyes were narrow, but he wasn’t throwing a punch that wasn’t self-defense. It was like he’d asked for the beating, dammit, and Jack loathed his parents for feeding into that self-directed anger.

  “We’re just here to let you know Jacky’s okay,” Teague was saying flatly. “We don’t expect anything, we don’t want anything from you, unless…” Teague turned liquid hazel eyes to him. “Jacky, is there anything here you want?”

  Jack shook his head. He’d taken all of the things Sara had loved earlier—they were in a small wooden trunk that Green had already moved into his and Teague’s room. He’d taken his own things when he moved out—all his mom and dad had were memories of him, in his room alone, studying for a future he wasn’t sorry to see in his rearview mirror.

  “I just wanted to say goodbye,” Jack said through a dry throat. It came out sounding sad but he wanted it to sound angry and cold.

  “Where are you going?” his mother asked, a corner of her mouth lifted in derision. “To your little rathole of an apartment—yes, we know where it is. Oh, wait, no—you and this…” a moue of distaste “this person are going to go live in a commune in the hills?”

  Teague flinched, visibly, and Jack went to move past him, to defend Teague for a change, but Teague wouldn’t let him. “It’s hard to explain,” he said, a little quirk at his mouth.

  “Don’t try, Teague,” Jack murmured, putting a tender hand on his lover’s shoulder. “They wouldn’t get it. Let’s just go.”

  “Jacky’s a good man,” Teague said softly. “It’s a shame you don’t want to know him better.”

  “Well certainly don’t want to know him in the same way you know him,” Jackson Barnes said, disdain dripping from his voice and his narrow, handsome face. “Or maybe it’s pretty darned close—he is practically a child, compared to you, isn’t he? What are you, fifteen years older?”

  Teague flushed, and Jack could practically smell the shame rolling off him.

  “It’s not even eight years, Dad, and that’s not fair!” Jack snarled, angry beyond words. Nearly eighteen months he’d hung in there, following Teague around like a lost puppy, and Teague’s age had been one of the wedges he’d used to fend Jack off.

  “Jacky, it’s okay,” Teague muttered. “They’re just trying to protect you.”

  “They’re just trying to shit all over me—all over us.” Jack advanced, leaning against Teague’s shoulder and feeling the unreasonable hatred, the terrible, volatile hostility wash over him again. Teague turned to him, his eyes flashing a surprising blue that stopped Jack for a moment.

  “Back down, werewolf,” he growled, and a little bit of human forebrain tried to penetrate Jack’s red haze. This is what they were worried about. Maintain control!

  “They can’t say things like that about you,” Jack gritted, violence in every word.

  “Jack, this man is barely more than a white-trash pedophile and he knows that!” Jack’s father laughed, and Teague visibly recoiled from the words and Jack’s forebrain dove for cover as his basic occipital instinct snarled for dominance.

  Jack barely felt his skin peeling back, his bones turning liquid, reforming, his body shifting from solid to fluid to solid again, because he was snarling at the interloper, the old human who had threatened his mate and he was leaping, leaping, snapping, seeing blood in his vision and starving for its taste…

  Cory

  Fight It or Fuck It

  As soon as we parked the car and let the guys out, I scrambled to the front to sit next to Bracken.

  Bracken had needed to sit in the front because his legs were so damned long, and I’d been in the back with Jacky, because Teague didn’t give up control of the car to anyone, and it hadn’t been a comfortable drive.

  It had started out when Jack had sniffed the air and said, “You smell like cookies.” His gaze had been dark and grim and he’d shot a fulminating glare at the back of Teague’s head and I belatedly remembered that kiss I’d dropped on his hair before I’d gone to bed.

  I grinned at him, making the kiss truly as playful as it had been meant. “Yeah—Grace kissed my head to shoo me off to bed and I was practicing the mother-bit with him, you know? Besides—I think he really had a bunch of cookies, and I’ve been helping with the baking all morning.”

  Jack looked surprised that I’d tackle that so head on, and his darkness eased up a little bit. “You like to mother him,” he asked levelly, and I nodded.

  “My guys… they’re all bent up trying to mother me. It’s nice to return the favor—if you hang out with me long enough I’ll be knitting you a sweater or a scarf or something too.”

  That got a smile. I thought I’d better live up to my end of that bargain or Jack would assume I wanted Teague for myself and rip my thro
at out.

  Green had warned me—he really had—but I’d been pretty damned blithe this morning as he’d seen Bracken and me off.

  Remember, beloved—they’re like teenagers. You never know what’s going to set them off. Every shapeshifter in the hill has been telling me these two are ripe—they’re the strongest wolves we’ve had, maybe because of the way we got them, and the consensus is, they’re going to turn way before the full moon.

  But they were grown men—how do you treat grown men like teenagers? How do you forbid them from leaving a home you pretty much kidnapped them into because they were stronger than the poor, the lost, the drug addled and the weak-willed who normally fell into your pack? I knew that Max—who had been bitten and turned on the same night—had been something of an anomaly, but I had no idea how big a difference a healthy, strong, strong-willed person made to the strength of the beast inside him. We were so used to giving the Goddess’ strength to those who needed it, we didn’t know what to do with the strong who were graced with it anyway.

  So we had agreed to this visit and tried to warn the guys and prepare ourselves, but given Jacky’s seething jealousy on the way down, Green’s last warning still vibrated in my toes.

  If they do turn, they’ll have two modes—fight it or fuck it. Given what I know of both of them, I think that choice could turn on a dime. Hopefully, with Teague’s level head, he’ll turn it into the latter, but you’d better be ready with a shield if it’s the former, you hear me, luv?

  Oh yeah—I may have been blowing him off (but politely and with lots of kissing) as overprotective earlier, but after being subjected to Jacky’s bad vibes for the last hour—and watching it increase after going to settle up with their landlord-- I was way ahead of Green now.

  I’d made it crystal clear that unless the guys wanted Bracken and I in the room with them, they had better leave the front door open, and I don’t think that started the interview off with Jack’s folks on a good note.