
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/530587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Major_Character_Death, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Matt_Daehler/Jackson_Whittemore, Allison_Argent/Scott_McCall, Matt
      Daehler/Master/Jackson_Whittemore
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall, Allison_Argent, Derek_Hale, Jackson
      Whittemore, Matt_Daehler, Gerard_Argent, Sheriff_Stilinski, Melissa
      McCall, Chris_Argent
  Additional Tags:
      Kanima!Matt, kanima!Jackson_-_Freeform, Matt_and_Jackson_share_a_Master,
      Stiles_is_emotional, Scott_is_a_horrible_friend, Lydia_and_Danny_are
      mentioned_like_once, Same_with_everyone_except_Matt_and_Jackson, and
      Scott, and_Stiles, and_Derek_at_one_point, Hurt/Comfort, Murder,
      Everybody_Dies, Except_for_the_six_people_who_weren't_killed, Awkward
      Yelling, Friendship_Lost, Stiles_kisses_people, Everyone_is_emotional,
      Matt_is_sassy, Lydia_is_understanding, Adoption_occurs(?)
  Series:
      Part 1 of It's_a_cold_and_it's_a_broken_hallelujah
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-11 Words: 4338
****** So Cold ******
by Reehoe, ZackaryAnderson
Summary
     The boy with the heart two sizes too large became a disconsolate
     cynic with a slowly but surely shrinking heart. And for each size his
     heart shrunk, a creature of the night, an evil critter with a taste
     for vengeance yearned for the touch of his hand.
     (Or in which Jackson and Matt are both kanima with the same Master
     and everything is an elaborate plan.)
Notes
     A/N: Wanted to throw in our 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. We think it's obvious who the Master is in this, but we
     wrote it so… it's probably obvious anyway. Whatevs. Let us know what
     you think in a review please!
See the end of the work for more notes
Jackson stared across the library, briefly meeting the eyes of his Master as
the shorter man mumbled along in irritation. 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 Tabletdown, 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. Everythingwas 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 partof 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…”
“Master?”
“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.
“Master, I’m—”
“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?”
“No, but—”
“Am I afraid of water?”
“No, Ma—”
“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...”
Stiles 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 didask 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 myselfall 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.”
End Notes
     Titled after So Cold by Breaking Benjamin.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
