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They've been here before, Scott thinks to himself as he watches Chris Argent's hands clench against the platter the cake sits on. In a different house, practically a different lifetime, but so much about it feels the same. Brings things rushing back on him. The awkwardness of that Argent family dinner, his relationship with Allison the elephant in the room, himself the freaking werewolf in the room. Surrounded by hunters, the most dangerous family in Beacon Hills.
This time there's less pressure. Scott isn't under Chris's scrutiny in the same way. Because it's not him who's seen as a danger to Allison any longer. It's not him who gets the dad-eye for the way he looks at Allison. Isaac gets to be the one to handle that now, and Scott's not exactly sad to be away from that particular scrutiny. All that he and Chris have standing between them now is that one is a werewolf and one hunts werewolves, but the Alpha and the hunter have managed to come to a truce.
Which doesn't mean that it's not still awkward for both of them, standing in the Argent kitchen and staring at each other over desserts.
It's Chris who finally speaks, surprising Scott with the suddenly chagrined look on his face. "Why does it always have to be werewolves, Scott? What did I do to deserve that? It'd be so much easier if it was normal boys. Ones that I could actually scare off with the arsenal I keep in my office. But no, Allison has to choose the ones who see it all as a challenge."
Scott opens and closes his mouth a few times, looking for an answer, but he's still stunned at the way that Chris is speaking to him almost as an equal. He can see that Chris's hands are still clutching the platter, knuckles white, but it doesn't seem quite as much like anger anymore, not even anger directed toward the wolf who's currently sitting on the couch in the next room, long arms likely wrapped snugly around Chris's daughter.
"I have no idea," he finally sighs, unsure of what Chris is expecting him to say. He shrugs, shifts his weight from one foot to the other, sets down the plate he'd been holding himself. "Maybe it's just an Argent thing... you all seem to like a challenge," he points out, and he hopes that Chris won't see the hint of a smile that's threatening at the corner of his lips. Because sometimes, it’s kind of amazing to him how alike Allison and her father are, even though they’d likely deny it if it was pointed out to them.
Chris arches an eyebrow, the ghost of a chuckle escaping his lips. “Like a challenge… I guess you could say that, Scott,” he nods. Scott can see something flicker over his face, but he can’t read it.
“A werewolf is kind of the ultimate challenge, isn’t it? For a hunter, I mean. It’s not just killing them, it’s kinda… taming them. Winning them over, wrapping them around your finger, bending them to your will, right?” Scott’s voice is low and even, sounds foreing to him, and he’s surprised at the words as they leave his mouth - at what they seem to imply. The tension in the room is still thick, heavy, but it’s taken on a different flavour. Chris’s eyes are watching him intently, and the older man’s face is unreadable to Scott, who suddenly finds himself wishing he knew how to read it. Knew every way that that face could change.
Maybe it’s just been too long, maybe Scott’s just lonely, but he’s taking a step closer to Chris, feeling the tension grow, , feeling the way it’s pulling him in. “Wouldn’t that be the ultimate thrill for a hunter? Not to kill the beast, but to tame it.”
And now, now Scott can read something in Chris’s eyes. Hunger. The hunger for the challenge, and for what might come next if he rises to that challenge. It sends a shiver down Scott’s spine, and he lets his eyes flash Alpha red, taunting the hunter as he steps closer still. For the moment, he feels like he has all the power in this situation, but he knows it can - and will - change at any moment. Whenever the tension breaks, whenever Chris breaks it.
It comes in a flash, a split second, a movement that even takes Scott and his werewolf reflexes by surprise. His back is against the fridge, a groan escaping into the older man’s mouth as he kisses Scott breathless. It’s reckless, it’s dangerous, Allison and Isaac have probably already heard them from the next room, and Scott has never cared less.
He wraps strong arms around Chris, holds on tight, and grazes his fangs over the hunter’s lower lip. The way Chris shudders at the feeling, the way he looks at Scott as they break apart at the sound of Isaac and Allison climbing from the couch in the next room, tells Scott that this is far from over.