SKIN (WATTYS UNDISCOVERED GEM)

Chapter Three: WWSWD (What Would Sam Winchester Do)

Yes, the book that Lennox is reading is the plot of Supernatural, XD so creds to Kripke.
Revised-ish

Sorry for errors, I'll be correcting them later.

If you guys are confused about the bolded words below that I bolded, check out my notes for an explanation.

BTW: Lennox has been in human society for around eight years, so he understands most things- just not like emotions, and jokes, and he get's his words wrong. But he isn't stupid, not anywhere near it. But he has no idea how to get about on a girl, especially Schuyler. *whispers* Guess who is a virgin? Lennox. Lennox is my little virgin boy.

(song on the side reminds me of Lennox)

Quin Armstrong, a fiery black woman who took absolutely no shit from anyone in this world, was Lennox's legal guardian. Didn't matter that he was almost twenty-seven, he was her boy, her son that wasn't given to her until he was eighteen. She loved him like her own, because he was her own. He was all she had after Phil died two years after he had came to them, and she prided herself with the fact that she helped her boy became the man he is today.

And Lennox was a smart man.

If he had been raised into human society, he could've gone places. He could've been anything he wanted to be- probably could've made a fancy formula to explain why werewolves just are, and if he tried hard enough, he still could.

That's how insanely smart Quin knew her boy was.

Ever since he had crawled onto her porch at four in the morning, bleeding to death, Quin knew that the young werewolf- who had been a teenager at the time- was undeniably intelligent. It didn't really matter that he didn't know one lick of the English language, or that he had only shifted into his human form six times before in his life. The boy had a mind that took knowledge in as soon as he could understand it, and kept it locked up there.

He could've really gone places.

Except he let his Alpha wolf get ahead of him, and he had challenged the Alpha to a fight- and God damn it, he had won.

Quin had hit him with her trusty wooden spoon when he came home covered in blood that wasn't his, and cursed at the nineteen year old. He wasn't supposed to get trapped underneath pack politics and become responsible for three hundred and fifty two lives.

That was almost seven years ago, and Quin would be lying if she wasn't still pissed about it, even as she flipped the hot dogs in the iron skillet and watched Lennox from the stove she stood above.

He was sitting on the counter- like most things, if they could fit him; he'd sit there, no matter how awkward he looked. It was kind of amusing, if not funny, to see a six foot werewolf bending his broad shoulders to fit on the marbled counter in his house, watching as Quin pressed her spatula down to the hot dogs, and they sizzled as if they were giving one last scream.

Tomorrow night would be a full moon, and her boy was on edge like he always was.

She could see it by the way his eyes would move from the hot dogs, to the spatula, up to Quin's face, and down to the book, Hunters.

It was his favorite book, out of all the thick books she had given to him- Hunters always seemed to be either in his hands or within arm's reach. She knew the plot of the book, even though she hadn't read it herself. He talked so much about it that she could basically imagine the two brothers in the book, who were basically the Americana on-the-road version of two boys who loved each other more than anything in the world, and were stuck in a hellish existence that always seemed to tear them apart.