Who: Jon & Quinn Where: UCLA campus When: The day after Wrong Place, Wrong Time What: Jon tries to get the story from Quinn and Quinn apologizes for attacking the brothers. Status: Complete Rating: PG-13 for language
That morning after his two hour run, Quinn debated about skipping class that day but he wasn't sure if his professors would make a note of it since he usually told them in advance that he'd be out of town the three days of the full moon. However, with all the strange occurances and extra research into them, it had strangely slipped the Watcher and Werewolf's mind.
So, despite feeling like utter shit, Quinn made himself get ready for class. He looked as he felt; his neck was a wash of brusies from Jon's attack and he had a nice assortment of cuts and scratches. Thankfully, given his advantage of being a Werewolf, things weren't quite as bad as they looked.
That didn't stop the stares he got when he arrived on campus after the roar of his Harley died down. Quinn ignored them, pulling out one of his usual brown paper clove cigarettes and lighting one up after he unstrapped his worn leather messenger bag from the big. Slinging it across his body, he started toward the Quad, smoking trailing in his wake.
Despite what had happened the night before, and how sore he was from the injuries, Jon still had to get up and go to class as did Ash. He made sure his little brother was off properly before he readied himself for the first class of the day and headed off.
He parked in one of the side lots of campus upon his arrival and when he emerged from his car to place his backpack over his shoulders, he let out an achy groan. Bruises and cuts littered his shoulders, torso and arms from the fight. Never had he'd been in such a situation and wished his father had been closer so he could know what to do. But there was no way he was going to inform him of it all. He would certainly end the entire venture West.
He hoped no one took too much notice to the wounds he did have on his face. It would prove hard to explain them. What a good time to not have many friends about.
For the most part, Quinn was a rather laid back guy when it came to things. However, he'd never looked like this before a group of people that opinions sort of mattered to him. Had it been his pack, he wouldn't care less how he appeared as each scratch and cut would've been a battle scar to them...however for these humans...there would be varying degrees of reaction from them and none them would be good. Which was why Quinn pulled out another cigarette from his pack and lit it up just as he started to pass an interesting looking fellow, equally beat up, and practically covered in tattoo's.
Jon was too busy messing with his cell phone because of a text message coming in from Ash wanting to make sure he had gotten to school okay to notice Quinn walking by. However, his scent sparked a heated recognition in him and his head instantly shot up. Before he even realized it, a growl rolled from his throat while his eyes scanned the area for any sign of the owner's scent; the one who'd attacked him and his sibling the night before.
Then, Jon's eyes fell upon another guy who looked just as beat up as him, if not more so and studied him for a long time. His cell phone beeped again; another text from Ash since Jon hadn't replied by quick enough with the first one. He replied that everything was okay, however much of a lie that was then started to follow Mr. Bruised Up.
Quinn was blissfully unaware of Jon, was that good or bad? Looks like we'll see soon enough. He did his best to ignore the subtle and not-so-subtle stares in his direction. When the Werewolf reached a bin to stub out his cigarette in, Quinn did so and continued on. There was time for him to catch a quick nap in one of the more quiet areas of the campus and he changed course, pulling out another brown paper cigarette. After a few puffs, the scent of cloves drifting behind him, Quinn's nerves were already starting to feel a little better. When he reached a quiet, shady corner Quinn dropped his leather messenger bag on the ground and dropped down beside it, tucking an arm underneath his head, the cigarette between his lips, and closed his eyes.
Jon kept a good distance but never once let the other man out of his sight. From just the smell of him alone, there was no doubting it was the same wolf from the night before. Never in his wildest thoughts did Jon expect to be literally running into the attacker at all, much less, the very next damn day.
Taking a spot against a nearby tree, Jon watched the other, a glare shooting toward his target. He was contemplating approaching him or not. His pride won over and he stomped closer until he was standing right at the guy's feet with his arms folded over his chest.
The Werewolf and Watcher wasn't really in the mood to be dealing with other people at the moment. But considering that this area wasn't exactly on the main paths it meant the moron standing at his feet had something to say to him.
The breeze changed and Jon's scent assaulted Quinn's senses. Whatever relaxed state he'd sunk into subtly changed and while the Watcher didn't bolt into action, he did open his dark gaze to stare up at the figure standing over him. He was a little surprised to say the least at the man's appearance; Jon was on the thin and wiry side and the more fascinating part, to Quinn, was that nearly every exposed surface of the other wolf's skin was blanketed in tattoo's.
"What the fuck are you?" Jon asked bluntly, his lip twitching, on the verge of a snarl. He was doing his best to maintain his temper and the urge to retaliate for the night before.
Quinn had never really been approached this way in a long time. The attitude brought up long forgotten memories of being Alpha and he struggled to stamp down the urge to exert his dominance over the insolent wolf. The Watcher gulped back his own snarl, which was the only reason Quinn merely continued to stare up at Jon, because he was afraid he'd do something he's regret...like last night.
There was no answer and that only irritated Jon all the more. "Are you deaf? Who the fuck are you?" Yeah, he knew he was overstepping a crap load of boundaries when it came to wolf etiquette but he figured all of that was thrown out the window when this guy lept at his brother. "Or maybe I'll tell you who I am first and that will help you answer." Jon pulled his shirt collar back to reveal a deep gash where he'd been bitten by the other. "Does this ring a bell?"
Quinn studied the wound in silence and then flicked his gaze upward to meet Jon's after another moment of silence, the Werewolf finally murmured an apology, "...I'm sorry." Oh, boy. If his pack could only seen him now, how far he'd fallen. But all that seemed like a lifetime ago and Quinn wasn't a brutal, savage dog anymore...right? Last night was an accident, a mistake.
"You're sorry?" Jon repeated venomously, his jaw dropping in shock as well as his arms to his sides. "You nearly killed me and that's all you can say is you're sorry? I...I should turn you in to the authorities or something."
The wolf looked away in shame and then moved smoothly to his feet only to say, "And what would you say to prove that we fought? All the evidence we have on us is that we got into something with a wild animal." Quinn's tone was matter-of-fact, precise yet the Watcher still avoided Jon's gaze, such was his shame for his actions last night.
"I can smell myself all over you as I'm sure you can smell yourself all over me" Jon quipped, leaning to one side slightly to try to get the man to look at him.
The movement caught Quinn's eye, the splash of color on his neck from the tattoo along with the bruising from last night was what drew his gaze back. Quinn thought that if something like last night had happened, he'd handle it better than he was at the moment. But the guilt was there in his brown gaze when he finally met Jon's eyes.
The look in the other guy's eyes instantly melted all of the anger away for Jon. He could see the sincerity of his apology staring back at him and started to regret his aggressiveness with the situation. Plus, it was the real first good look he had of his face and was taken aback slightly by how attractive he was.
Quinn stared warily back at Jon, wondering if they were going to end up physically fighting again. The cursed wolf couldn't afford to get into it on campus, but the beast inside would never let him back down from a fight. It would be a matter of pride (crazy, but true). The Watcher extracated himself from Jon's hands and stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
"Well..." Jon started to say, a new slight timidness to his voice. He didn't even understand it himself. "I'm sorry too. I guess we...my brother and I, we must have been in your territory or something last night. I should've known better than to...go there." Jon mimicked the others movements, running a hand through his own hair as well. He felt bad for being angry now.
The Watcher sighed, moving to pick his bag up and pulling over his head so that it rested diagonally across his torso. This was the part he hated to explain because while Quinn was incredibly proud of being a werewolf...he was also incredibly ashamed because the witch that had cursed his family all those generations ago had twisted and perverted it. "Yes...and no." Quinn needed another cigarette and he started digging around in his pockets for them and the Zippo he carried, "It's...complicated."
Jon blinked, debating on whether he should ask or not why it was complicated. But his upbringing of not questioning those wolves who could be more powerful than him. "Okay." When he saw the cigarette, Jon pulled out his own lighter and held it out, lit so Quinn could light it. "I'm Jon. By the way. Jon Marrok." If this guy was even vaguely knowledgeable about other packs, he would certainly know of the Marrok name no doubt.
While Quinn may have only been interested in powerful lycan packs when he'd been Alpha of the Razorbacks, as a Watcher he'd been doing plenty of research on a variety of packs. Namely, he was more interested in the ones that had witches and pack magic, but anyone who could help him lift his curse held his interest. The name Marrok wasn't one to snivel at. A small smile curved his lips, "Quinn Draper."
The name rang a loud bell for Jon. He instantly knew who the man was and where he was from and what he belonged to. But Jon had been warned to stay clear of anyone from the Razorbacks. A knowing expression came over Jon's face suddenly and he took a careful step back. "THE Quinn Draper?" he asked unbelievingly.
The lycan made a mental sigh at the physical gesture Jon made. Great, his reputation still proceeded him despite The Razorbacks being gone five or six years now; Quinn had been hoping that he'd been forgotten along with his pack. His mouth and jaw tightened after he exhaled smoke and started forward, brushing roughly past Jon, "Yeah, THAT Quinn Draper," The Watcher said bitterly over his shoulder as he headed back the way he came, toward his bike.
Their shoulders hit and Jon stumbled back, turning to watch Quinn as he stormed off. He hadn't meant to offend the guy. It was just his father's teachings ingrained into his brain. But it seemed the damage was already done and the younger wolf felt horrible. however, guys, being the stubborn assholes they could be, Jon did nothing at the time to stop him.