Chapter 7 - Breakfast at Last

"Breakfast?" Thomas prompted after a few moments, a light smirk beginning to tug at his pale, pink lips and simultaneously taking a wrecking ball through Minho's ability to think straight. No, there would be no more thinking straight for him ever again if Thomas kept making cute faces like that, the boy had gone and ruined the teen's heterosexuality for life.

"Fuck yes. I'm so hungry, I swear I would eat Frypan's Mystery Stew right now!" Minho agreed eagerly, bouncing off the mattress and planting his feet on the supposedly chilly floorboards to find they still felt just as average as they did a moment ago.

Perhaps Thomas was cold because he was too scrawny, it wasn't like the Grievers rolled up with five star entrees three times a day and came preprogrammed with a balanced meal plan to ensure the Gladers were getting all the proper nutrients - Not to worry though, Minho's wolf was apparently a nurturing creature that had every intention of amending this unacceptable situation, considering a precise plan to stuff his mate full of the proper vitamins and minerals the teen had been deprived of had already formed itself inside the boy's head and it was taking every ounce of self control to keep him from running off to implement it this very second.

"God, Min. You truly are a desperate creature." Thomas groaned ominously, looking ill and shuddering involuntarily at the mention of the horrible excuse of a meal Frypan had once presented the Gladers when supplies were low. The results of which had been a herd of groaning, hurling boys retching into sparse bushes and stumbling around the Glade in a sorta comatose daze for the rest of the night, Thomas included. (Minho had warned him... But did he listen? Nooo.)

The naive brunette had no idea... Desperate entailed constantly struggling with the desire to slam one's best friend into the nearest wall and do ungodly things to his body with your mouth. To be desperate was to crave the feeling of that friend pinned underneath you, to want him to bare his neck for you and let you do whatever you felt like to him. To want some nasty ass soup...? That was not desperate.

"Jesus fuck!" Thomas yelped dramatically, pulling Minho back from his musings as the brunette tried once more to exit the little boat of warmth the bed truly was only to be met with failure again, the icy wooden floor apparently proving to be an enemy to reckon with as the kid shuffled back from the edge of the mattress.

"Fine. Stay here and starve." Minho joked teasingly, turning to stroll out of the room in a show of seriousness that he knew would irk his friend to no end when he was brought to a dead halt by the barely audible sound of Thomas's stomach growling.

Oh my god. He's really starving! Wolfy concluded dramatically, alighting a panic inside Minho that the Runner logically knew was entirely unnecessary but found himself caught in the stomach twisting, iron grip of nevertheless as he whirled around and stomped back to the bed, helpless against the pull of his wolf's protective instincts.

"Minh- Oh!" Thomas began only for the end of his companion's name to come out as an uncouth yelp as the teen was suddenly scooped up by the older boy, one arm under his knees and the other supporting his back as the brunette gawked incredulously at his friend from his place in the boy's arms.

"Can't have the only Runner I have left to Keep starve to death on me now, can I?" Minho scoffed indignantly, as if carrying pretty boys in his strong arms were simply part if his basic duties as a Keeper. Which it totally was, right? Yeah. Minho was just being a good Keeper - And mate Wolfy so helpfully interjected.

"Hey, dude, if you wanna carry me around so my lazy ass never has to touch that frigid floor again, I sure ain't gonna fight you." Thomas snickered excitedly, shifting about to find a more comfortable position in the wolf's arms and in doing so squirming in a way that was doing a number on Minho's ability to breathe like a normal human being.

"I outta drop your ass, Tomboy. Now quit squirming!" Minho scoffed irritably as he began to make his way across the room, moving far less awkwardly than he probably should for having a sixteen year old boy gathered up in his arms. It was as though the smaller teen were specially crafted to fit perfectly into the teen's arms despite how difficult it logically should be to lift a guy almost his age, a fact his wolf was currently silently gloating over.

"You wouldn't!" Thomas informed surely, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly before continuing to wiggle about as if he were solely doing so to piss off the werewolf, the suspected sinister intent only verified by a coy smirk tugging lightly at the brunette's pink lips.

"Wouldn't I?" Minho considered slyly, his voice taking on a conniving edge and his lips tugging upwards into a Cheshire Cat grin as he felt Thomas go stiff in his arms, the brunette obviously unsure of his own claim at the moment. Before the smaller boy could react to the warning however, the boy let his grip on the kid go completely lax and let Thomas drop toward the ground without hesitation, robbing the younger teen of a chance to react.

Thomas yelped sharply, obviously startled by the unexpected action and visibly going tense all over as he awaited the impending impact of the floorboards quickly flying up to meet him, hazel eyes squeezed shut tight in preparation for the expected pain.

Which is probably why the Runner didn't see Minho move swiftly to take advantage of his enhanced reflexes and snap his arms back under the boy in the nick of time, leaving not but a few inches of air between the brunette's back and the ground below. "You're right. I wouldn't" The werewolf finally agreed casually, smirking wildly at Thomas as the teen slowly peaked open a single honey eye, the orb swimming with disbelief as he hesitantly uncurled himself from his tensed position and glanced about in confusion.

"How in the everloving hell?" Thomas mumbled uncertainly as he immediately wormed his lanky arms around Minho's neck lest the teen tried to drop him again, not that Minho was complaining, the more Thomas clung to him, the happier both he and his wolf were. Oh no. It wasn't just his wolf anymore, was it? Fuck. Minho was really starting to have it bad for this stupidly courageous, idiotically self-sacrificing, absolutely caring to a fault... Okay. He was just gonna stop now. This wasn't helping.

"You oughta know I'd never drop you, Thomas, you idiot shank." Minho scoffed lightly in reply, marking off the kid's bewilderment with feigned indifference. "You must be stupider than I thought if you really think I'd let anything happen to you." The Keeper continued, keeping his voice casual despite the fact that he truly meant the words leaving his lips. Minho had been through hell and back with Thomas and had saved the boy's ass more than once, just as the brunette had done for him. No way the teen was going to let a single thing harm the other male now.

"Yeah," Thomas agreed after a moment, sounding genuinely relieved and smiling slightly as he spoke. "You're a good Keeper, Minho." The brunette informed confidently as they finally reached the other side of the room and Minho stepped them out into the carpeted hallway beyond the threshold of the doorway.

"Yeah, and you're a heavy shank." Minho teased snidely with a growing grin that was supposed to be a cool smirk but had been utterly demolished into an expression of joy at his companion's words. "Get down." Minho huffed in feigned annoyance as he slowly lowered Thomas's legs until the kid's feet were firmly planted on the beige fluff below and the wolf let his arms linger until he was absolutely sure his friend would stand on his own.

"Oh my god, I can't believe you just called me fat!" Thomas wailed in a high, whiny voice that imitated a hormonal teenage girl's before snickering and scurrying away down the hallway, robbing Minho of a chance to make fun of the brunette for his horrible performance.

"And I can't believe I put up with you." The boy huffed exasperatedly before plodding down the hallway after his companion, walking with slow even steps that contrasted starkly with his friend's overeager half-jog. Minho watched Thomas make a sharp turn and bound down the wooden stairs they'd waited upon the night before, the teen taking them three at a time at the moment, apparently excited for breakfast as he quickly escaped the werewolf's sight.

Minho's wolf urged him into a brisk speed walk, demanding that the boy go catch up with his mate until he had Thomas safely in his sights once more and the human side of the boy agreed wholeheartedly. Until, something caught those dark eyes and drew Minho's hurried strides to an abrupt and stumbling halt as the wolf forced his legs to lock into stillness and brought his body to a careening standstill.

An old picture frame hung on the beige walls of the hall, slightly crooked in its wooden confines and poorly visible through the thick layer of dust settled over the glass. There wasn't anything particularly noteworthy about it really and Minho wasn't exactly sure why it had so readily captured his focus but he moved toward it anyway as if drawn to the antique looking object by invisible strings pulled taunt with the sheer force of it.

Minho brushed a tentative hand against the layers of gray grime smothering out the image below, his fingers featherlight against the cool glass as if he half expected it to shatter into a million tiny pieces at the slightest touch. A few more swipes were necessary, each as delicate and uncertain as the last, but finally the picture was clear and the wolf drew in a sharp, startled breath at the sight of it.

The image was old and yellowing, visibly crinkled even in its frame but still as vivid as if it had just been taken yesterday. However, it was obviously not taken yesterday or any other day in the past few years if the words "Welcome Stephan and Mieczyslaw Stilinski" written across the top of the image in thick, bold sharpie lines were anything to go by.

The picture was of a woman with long auburn hair flowing down over her shoulders lying in a hospital bed with a beaming smile across her lips. She looked exhausted but ecstatic, her glowing honey eyes alight with pure, elated joy that contrasted starkly with the dark circles underneath them. Those so very familiar hazel orbs, visibly brimming over with unshed tears, were fixed on two small bundles, each all wrapped up in light pastel blankets and clasped close to the woman's heart as if they were the only thing that mattered in the world.

"Minho? Are you coming?" Thomas quipped suddenly from the teen's side and Minho found himself practically throwing his own body over the image to shield it from the brunette's view, earning a confused look and quirked eyebrow from the boy.

"Yeah. Yeah. On my way, just got distracted." Minho finally agreed after a moment, his heart pounding in his ears as he shot what he hoped was an easy smile at his companion but received only a higher quirked brow in response. Thomas apparently knew him too well to be fooled.

"Min, if there's anything you wanna talk about... You know you can tell me, right?" Thomas began earnestly, honey eyes looking imploringly at the older boy who most certainly did not want to talk about anything. Actually, there were so many things Minho did NOT want to talk about with Thomas it was starting to get hard to keep track of them all and the ever growing list only seemed to be lengthening by the minute.

"Nah, let's just get breakfast, yeah?" Minho tried casually, pushing a light hand against Thomas's shoulder in an attempt to encourage the brunette to start making his way down the steps once more, unwilling to leave his spot pressed against the wall before the younger male was safely turned away.

"Yeah, alright, but get distracted again and I'm eating yours!" Thomas finally relented, looking hesitant but apparently understanding that the boy didn't want him to pry as he turned on a heel and retreated down the stairs again, Minho following on his heels this time.

The wolf wasn't exactly sure why he felt the need to hide the picture from his friend but, honestly, he was just tired of seeing Thomas hurt. It was an odd form of protection, but the image was only likely to make the brunette ache in ways Minho couldn't alleviate him of so the wolf intended to shield his mate from it as long as possible.

The delicious, yet slightly sickening in its wonderfulness, scent of grease and meat hit Minho in a wave the moment he reached the bottom of the wooden stairwell, the smell crashing over his senses and making him want to run into the kitchen like the ravenous beast he truly was and gag until he hurled all in the same moment.

More than anything, his wolf just wanted to stuff surplus amounts of the fatty shit into Thomas's pretty mouth as quickly as possible, preferably by way of the werewolf's own teeth clasped around the slabs of meat. Wait, no, stop, that's weird.That's really fucking weird. Gods please help him. Please help him feed Thomas bacon with his mouth that was- No!

"How did you boys sleep?" Sheriff Stilinski questioned as Minho finally trailed Thomas into the waiting kitchen, where the familiar, almost edging on nostalgic, smell of frying eggs and accompanying deep, harsh tones of brewing coffee joined the overpowering aroma lingering in the air.

The Gladers exchanged an brief, uncertain glance - Thomas looking slightly embarrassed and Minho wearing what he hoped was a comforting face as he brushed a soothing hand over the kid's arm in an attempt to reassure him - before they answered.

"Like a Griever." Thomas responded gratefully, speaking the truthful statement in such a light, happy tone that it was only because Minho knew what a Griever even was that he was aware the confusing words meant the younger boy had slept like absolute shit.

"Good to hear!" The Sheriff replied eagerly, looking slightly bewildered but apparently choosing to go by his estranged son's tone rather than try to decipher the actual meaning of the words.

"Behold!" Stiles suddenly interjected, sweeping in with two plates clasped in his nimble fingers, each overflowing with a stunning display of, not only greasy decadence, but also healthy elements. Like, we're talking actual real, live, in the flesh vegetables here.

"Dude! You have to teach me how to cook some time!" Thomas gasped in an awed voice, honey eyes glinting with excitement and widening to the size of the plates his twin was currently slamming down onto the table.

Thomas cooking... Someone with a better understanding of the supernatural please tell Minho why the hell his wolf simply adored the idea. Probably had nothing to do with the images of his brunette happily moving around a kitchen in nothing but an apron, swaying his smooth hips as he hummed and actually having the chance to settle into some sort of normal life for once. Nah, nothing to do with that.

"I'm really not that good. I just picked up a few things since someone had to make sure Mr. I'm Gonna Clog My Arteries And Die Of Heart Disease At Age Fifty over here ate more than McDonald's 24/7." Stiles replied bashfully, waving off the complement with a shy smile as the Gladers took their seats at the table and instantly began to tuck away the meal as if it would run away at a moment's notice.

"Not that good?" Minho questioned incredulously, a strip of bacon hanging from his mouth, clasped between his jaws and unfortunately not on its way to Thomas. "Dude, you gotta be kidding!" The boy scoffed disbelievingly before immediately immersing himself in the meal once more before their host even had a chance to reply.

"Well, unfortunately, duty calls." Sheriff Stilinski announced reluctantly, seeming genuinely perturbed as he rose from his own seat and began moving toward the door. "I tried to get the day off but someone's gotta train the new deputy." The guy explained tiredly as he finally reached the door and grabbed his coat from a nearby hook.

"Like Perish needs anymore training." Stiles sniffed uninterestedly as he too rose from the table, taking his plate with him and shoving it into a compartment of some sort with a rack or two of other dishes already full.

"Don't worry about it." Thomas reassured easily, shooting his father a comforting smile, just the briefest quirk of his pink lips upwards that still made Minho want to shove the comparatively disappointing meal off the table and replace it with the brunette's spread legs.

"Yeah, go on. Imma take 'em to meet the pack," Stiles dismissed his father easily, apparently oblivious to the confused look Thomas was casting his way, the Runner's hazel orbs swimming with curiosity more than anything else.

Always so inquisitive rather than intimidated and fearful that boy was. Thomas never let intense warnings of unimaginable suffering and inevitable death deter him from anything, which was kinda the reason Minho was still alive at the moment actually. Thomas was curious to a fault and it was one of the things Minho loved most about him.

Stiles finally glanced back at the table after Sheriff Stilinski gave a hesitant nod before eventually departing, leaving the three boys alone once more. The moment the kid turned his head he must've seen Thomas's inquiring stare for the teen's casual smile instantly slipped away to an equally bewildered look.

Stiles moved his eyes toward Minho for the briefest of moments, the single look screaming "You didn't tell him?!" from the top of its nonexistent lungs but all the boy could do was give a embarrassed nod and swallow uncertainly.

Minho was a coward to keep his best friend in the dark like this about what he truly was. The wolf knew that, but how could he risk losing Thomas now when every single other person he'd ever cared about had already been ripped away from him - Quite literally, usually involving snapping metallic claws and all. How could the teen tell the only one he had left that he was a monster? He couldn't. End of story. Send him a Crank riding a fucking Griever if you must, but Minho was not about to tell Thomas his secret

"My friends I mean!" Stiles clarified hastily before forcing a painfully awkward laugh. "We use weird lingo sometimes, kinda an inside joke." The boy continued easily all the while shooting Minho pointed glares whenever his brother happened to be glancing away, usually to greedily stuff more food into his mouth.

Thomas merely shrugged, jerking his shoulders upward distractedly as he seemed to have already lost interest in the conversation in favor of seeing if he could inhale three eggs in five seconds flat.

"Dude! Breathe!" Stiles snorted amusedly. "It's not going to grow legs and run away, I promise! Unless you are on some hella good drugs in which case you should totally hook me up with your dealer." The brunette continued with a snicker, smirking at Thomas's slightly embarrassed expression.

Minho understood. He and Thomas had never in their lives been given an opportunity to actually sit down and eat a decent meal that didn't consist of Frypan struggling to make due with what little supplies the Glade had or the constant threat that it was about to be ripped away.

Too many a starving night had they endured, getting so bad at times that Minho actually had considered taking it as an excuse to suck Thomas's dick ("Because obviously sperm had nutrients and they needed to be making good use of every ounce of edible material available. Duh. Now drop 'em.") Luckily the wolf had decided against it in the end, though it had admittedly been a pretty close thing.

Either way, dick sucking aside, stability wasn't really an entry in the Glader's dictionary; and despite the fact that Minho did try to be the closest thing to consistency he could offer Thomas, the brunette probably felt the need to pack away as much food as possible before it was suddenly yanked away as it so often was.

"Yeah, dude, slow down. I don't wanna see you puke." Minho added playfully, though he honestly hoped Thomas actually listened because he kinda really didn't want to see his friend sick and suffering.

The boy found himself reminded of the time Wicked had starved the Gladers for days on end before abruptly presenting them with surplus mountains of food ranging from vegetables, to pie, to kimchi, and everything in between. Tons of boys had gotten so excited by the sudden availability of actually edible food that they'd ended up overstuffing themselves to the point of barfing.

Not Thomas though. The Keeper had had to bring his hungry mate an apple as the kid had been napping when the shangri-la of gluttony had appeared out of thin air. However, the way the brunette had failed to respond to the wolf's first few vain attempts to wake him had shaken Minho to the core.

Thomas had looked dead. Remaining still and motionless despite Minho's frantic whispering and steadily increasing grip on the smaller boy's pale arm. The brunette had never looked so small and fragile until that moment and it was then the Keeper realised the boy could be swept away from him as easily as sand whipped away by the winds of fate if Wicked so chose. Minho's protective instincts really kicked in then, constantly demanding he never leave his breakable mate's side ever again, but it had been the human in the Keeper that vowed to keep Thomas safe no matter what after that.

"Thanks, Daddy. I'll be careful." Thomas countered in what was probably supposed to be an unamused, not erotic at all, way but even Stiles spit out the orange juice he'd been sipping, spraying neon, dye enhanced liquid all over the front of his shirt, so Minho didn't feel too bad about the filthy thoughts crowding his mind at the moment.

Despite his stubborn reply, Thomas did in fact slow his mad dash to get every egg in existence into his mouth as quickly as possible and it was at least a good whole, three minutes before the brunette finished eating. Hey, it was improvement.

However, now the Gladers both just stood in silent bewilderment before the contraption Stiles had stuck his plate into, neither one really wanting to speak up about the lack of knowledge they possessed and each casting questioning glances at one another as if hoping the other somehow knew more.

Finally they both shrugged simultaneously and turned to cast their inquisitive gaze on Stiles who somehow seemed to have failed to notice the obvious lack of movement from either of his companions.

The brunette was humming excitedly and shuffling around the table, gathering up dishware and doing an absolutely ridiculous head bob to music no one else could hear, looked to be pretty damn catchy though if Stiles's interpretive dance was anything to go by. This went on for at least two solid minutes before the oblivious teen finally seemed to feel the Glader's gaze upon him and whipped about to face their confused looks.

"You didn't see that." Stiles asserted threateningly, squinting his eyes menacingly and pointing an accusatory finger at each male before they finally both nodded their agreement, though Minho was barely biting back a snicker and he could feel Thomas practically trembling with poorly contained snorts of amusement at his side.

"You..." Stiles began slowly, relaxing once more and apparently taking a moment to evaluate the scene before him. "Don't know how to work a dishwasher, do you?" The teen finally concluded skeptically, hazel eyes widening in realization as if this were something unheard of to his modernized ears.

"A what?" Minho stated blankly and Stiles was on the ground in a fit of snorts and giggles in two seconds flat, literally writhing on the floorboards in his hysteria before finally pulling himself back up and striding breathlessly over to the other boys.

"Gimme these." Stiles began mechanically plucking the two plates from his companions' hands with one swift motion. "And stick 'em in here." The male continued monotonously, roughly stuffing the plates in between two identical platters where there was obviously no room for them to be yet he still somehow managed to wrangle them in the nonexistent space nevertheless.

"Then slam this shut and voila!" Stiles concluded eagerly, slamming the wide, square door of the thing up and closed with a grand, overexaggerated sweep of his hand before twisting a small knob on the front of it.

Minho may or may not have leapt back as the thing rumbled to life, grasping Thomas by the arms and pulling the smaller boy back with him and into his chest for protection as the thing groaned and began shaking as if horrible tormented spirits had suddenly taken residence inside of its sleek, dish eating bowels.

What? Weird shit happened to Minho! It wasn't that ludicrous of a fear really, nor when one felt the unignorable urge to bite anyone's fingers off if he or she made the mistake of brushing into his mate in a crowded street. The word unbelievable had already officially been removed from Minho's dictionary long ago.

"Never speak of the whole singing while cleaning thing and I promise this never has to leave the room." Stiles informed with a teasing smirk, eyes glinting with humor as he watched the two boys still eyeing his dishwasher as if it were a hellhound.

"Deal." Minho and Thomas each blurted simultaneously.