Werecheetah in Teen Wolf (AU)

Monday Evening January 10th, 2011. Beacon Hills, California.

Practice was long. Longer than usual.

After Mo's first catch in explosive style, everyone stepped their game up. Though it wasn't solely because of Mo.

The next catch was obvious.

Scott McCall.

He wasn't as fast as Mo. And he wasn't as lanky either. Even worse, his opponent was a physical specimen in his own right. Scott was outsized by about forty pounds of solid muscle.

Even so, the two geared up sportsmen bumped shoulders and checked bodies like they were equals as they ran down the field.

Until Scott got the upper hand with an agitated snarl and shoulder-check followed by a jumping spin into a catch. He grunted as he fell back first with the ball in his sticks net.

The crowd clapped, now fully engaged with the two catches.

Another handful of students went with a few catches and a few misses. The blow of coach Bobby's whistle wasn't any less nauseating, but Mo was beginning to sense past it.

All the way back to the end portions of the line where Scott was going nuclear. Or at least that's how it felt to Mo. The spark was igniting.

Even the humans in line were beginning to feel something.

"Yo Scott, you alright?" Stiles questioned from behind him as he growled with each exhale.

With Mo being taller than literally everyone, all he had to do to see Scott was turn his head and look down the other line. He stood alone with his head down. Thankfully Lacrosse gloves are huge padded mitts or else everyone would begin to see the growth of claws and fur.

It was then that Mo shivered at the wave of jealousy he felt on the setting sun-lit winds. His ears twitched as Alison and Lydia's distant conversation became a focus for him.

"So what do you think, Alison?" Lydia asked.

"Well, yea, Scott is good. But I think that's because he's scrappy. Mo seems a lot more physically gifted. I mean— he jumped over Jackson. And that was after he gave him a head start. Like actually jumped over him. That's…. that's amazing." Alison explained.

"Hmmm…."

"What?"

"Oh I don't know…." Lydia said, "Cheering that loud for Mo, saying he's the best— when my boyfriend exists! Giving eachother cute nicknames. You like him don't you, Alison?"

Another wave of jealousy wafted from Scott. It felt like agitated voices and stakes running through his stomach.

Another curse from the pelt. Feeling emotions. Especially negative emotions. A trigger for shifters. Skinwalkers and werewolves alike.

The circumstances almost made Mo eye roll. At twelve, he'd stolen diamonds back from colonizer "South American" gangs stemming from Europe. The rage he'd felt from those sadistic thieving werewolves was debilitating. The grief he felt when his last parental figure was murdered on a full moon was so strong he lived as a cheetah in the Savannah for an entire year.

What Scott felt was so trivial in context. Jealousy over a crush. But in the moment, it was surprisingly strong.

"Eish….. you really had me worried for a least a second, Scott. But you're just a teenage boy. A hot-blooded, hormonal American teen. Kind of a let down to see you get so worked up over the white girl. Oh well, I need to bring you back to reality, and we need to discuss the future." Mo snuck out of his spot in the line and made his way to the opposite side of Scott.

The person he went against before had no problem switching with Mo. In fact, he might've ran. Not that Mo noticed. He was too busy trying to shake off the memories. The burn of a shifting werewolves spark. It was like standing next to howling, snarling, slashing fire.

Everytime Mo blinked, he was across the ocean.

He was running through Dublin— having not showered in days and made sick by the rain as he ran from Irish gang members with wolf teeth and piercing blue eyes.

Other times he was in the okavango delta, starving after losing his freshly hunted gazelle to a pride of WereLions.

The whistle blew, knocking Mo out of his traumatic memories.

He took off.

Scott snarled and shoved him aside.

Mo slowed his speed so Scott stumbled way off to the left.

Mo reappeared on the other side of him, "Aye, Scotty-boy, you're going to go feral like this over a girl you haven't even met yet?"

"Shut-up!" Scott growled and dove to shove him again.

"Never been the quiet cat." Mo placed a hand on Scott's shoulder and vaulted over him.

The crowd cheered.

Scott grew angrier.

He charged again.

Mo dropped low and slide tackled him, causing them both to crash in a snarling dusty mess due to their built up speed.

"Maybe I do miss football." Mo forced the joke as they came to a stop with Scott snarling through his lacrosse helmet below him.

His growling lips parted. The wolfish white teeth were the same.

Quickly, Mo ripped off his helmet, pointing the polished top half at Scott so he could see his reflection.

Watching reason and shock creep into his golden eyes was a new experience. As new as seeing the golden eyes.

A new experience.

For them both.

"What….."

"It wasn't just a wolf." Mo said. It would've been random to anyone else, but after what Mo heard between Stiles and Scott, he knew they'd discussed it. He knew Scott questioned it.

Scott blinked twice. As coach Bobby yelled in the distance, his feral eye glow and wolfish fangs disappeared. He pushed the helmet aside and faced Mo.

"You ruin my night, I ruin yours." Scott mumbled, finally putting a face to the words. To the fight.

"Bathong! My accent is more distinct than I realize…"

Scott was still in shock.

Mo was focused on other things, "Do you want to kill me?"

Scott snapped out of it, "What?! I don't want to…. kill anyone."

Mo raised an eyebrow, "What was the alpha thinking when he bit you?" He thought to himself.

"HEY!" Coach Bobby raged as he approached, with the entire rest of the team following.

"Are you two competitors or boyfriends? Get THE HELL UP NOW!"

Mo got up fast, "Sorry Thaema, I uhhh…. got confused!"

"Yea I'm sure you did. Was that before or after you entered olympic level physicality and jumped over McCalister?"

"M—who?" Stiles questioned from behind Coach Bobby.

Bobby turned around to face Stiles, "Who the hell are you?"

"What? Are you serious?"

"Forget that, practice is over. Come to practice on time tommorow for a scrimmage where you'll learn who's first line and who isn't. I've got a lot to think about and a lot to break. You guys really exhausted me today, you know that?"

The tens of sweating, limping, dirt covered student athletes eyed him in silence.

Coach Bobby's beady eyes somehow went beadier, "Now get!"

Everyone headed off the field.

Alison and Lydia watched Scott and Mo with intrigue. Confusion? Maybe even a little embarassment. Or at least they attempted to.

Mo was already gone. With one thought in mind.

"I'll do this like Olady Dipuo and give him time to process. Ahhh….. who am I kidding? I just want to go run!"

For all the jokes he made and smiles he flashed as he raced out of Beacon Hills High, he couldn't stop the shake in his hands.

Sure, Scott was one of two werewolves he'd ever met that didn't want to eat him alive, but there were more. And he could feel them growing closer.

The dead woman. The new alpha and the harmless beta.

All pieces to a gruesome puzzle

Mo never ran so fast.

Well, that wasn't entirely true.