Lana McCall was no stranger to helping the Martin twins. On most Friday nights, she found herself in their kitchen, loading snacks onto platters or fluffing pillows on the couch. It was a weird little routine she had gotten used to, but tonight felt different. The house was buzzing with energy as the Martins prepared for their weekly party. Each Friday they would have sleepovers, and once a month they would throw a big party. But tonight wasn't a sleepover—well, Lana hoped it would end up as one, but not at the Martins'. She wanted to have a little fun and it seemed Cheryl had her hands full with some random girl she had started texting. Lana would have to branch out.

The entire living room was lined with streamers, balloons, and cheap fairy lights. Lana grabbed a few bags of chips and began setting them out on the snack table. "Lana, can you get the soda from the fridge?" Lydia asked, bouncing around the kitchen with too much excitement for a 17-year-old. "You're the best! Thank you!"

"Of course, Lyd," Lana replied, grinning as she pushed herself off the counter and made her way toward the fridge.

As she passed through the hallway, she could hear Scott's voice from the living room. He was talking to Alison, and for a moment, Lana paused, watching them from the doorway. She'd known that her younger brother had a soft spot for Alison. It was obvious in the way he looked at her, his voice a little too soft and his smile a little too wide whenever she was near. The two of them made a great couple, and it was clear their chemistry was off the charts, even though they had only just started getting to know each other.

"Well, look who it is," Lana smirked to herself, watching as Alison tossed her hair back and laughed at something Scott had said. "Little McCall's got himself a keeper." Her brother rolled his eyes, huffing at her, and Alison laughed at her new best friend.

The doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of other party guests. Lana took a deep breath and entered the living room, forcing herself to push any thoughts of her brother's love life aside—at least for now, to let guests in. She greeted a few familiar faces, exchanging quick hugs and polite hellos. Her eyes flickered to Cheryl, who was already holding court by the drinks lounge, chatting animatedly with a few people. Lana went over, plopping herself in Cheryl's lap and taking the drink from her hand and taking a sip. 

Cheryl pressed a gentle kiss to the Latina's neck, wrapping her arms around her waist as she contuined the conversation with her friends. Lana listened as Cheryl talked about the cheerleading try outs that were being held soon, encourging one of the girls to join. 

Hours later and Lana and Cheryl had danced through the evening, each song pulling them closer to the center of the living room where everyone else seemed to fade away. The house was alive with energy, people laughing, talking, and dancing, but for Lana, it felt like it was just her and Cheryl. The heat of the crowd and the beat of the music made everything feel more intense, more carefree.

The music shifted, the tempo slowing down, and Lana felt Cheryl's hand brush against her back as they swayed together. Their bodies were close, the playful energy between them building with every move. Lana caught Cheryl's gaze and smiled, the flicker of something unspoken passing between them.

Cheryl leaned in, her breath warm against Lana's ear. "This song's way too slow for a party, don't you think?"

Lana laughed, her voice low. "I don't know, I kind of like it." She felt the warmth of the alcohol in her veins, loosening her up, making her bolder, more daring. She could feel the rhythm in her bones, and Cheryl's presence only made the music more electric.

The two of them started moving together more, letting go of the tension of the night. Lana spun around, catching Cheryl's eyes as she did, laughing softly when their hands tangled in the process. They shared a knowing glance—something that wasn't just about the music or the party. It was something more, something playful yet intimate.

Lana took a sip of her drink, her eyes never leaving Cheryl. "You know, I've always liked dancing," she said with a grin, her words just a little slurred from the alcohol. "But tonight, I think I'm having the most fun."

Cheryl raised her cup in a mock toast. "I knew you'd come around."

With that, they both tossed their drinks back, their laughter mixing with the music. The night was still young, but Lana didn't want it to end—at least not yet. She felt free, unburdened by the usual worries that had followed her around all week. Tonight, it was all about the moment.

As the next song started, the beat picked up, and Cheryl grabbed Lana by the hand, pulling her back into the dance floor. The tempo was faster, and they couldn't help but move with it, bodies syncing perfectly as the music thrummed through their veins. Their laughter echoed over the music, and for a few fleeting moments, the entire world seemed to narrow down to the two of them, lost in the rhythm, the joy, and the undeniable connection they were building.

When the song came to an end, Lana couldn't help but smile widely at Cheryl, a playful sparkle in her eyes. "Okay, now that was fun."

Cheryl smiled back, pulling Lana in close for a quick hug before they both broke away to grab fresh drinks. "We're just getting started," Cheryl said with a wink.

And Lana, feeling the buzz from both the drinks and the chemistry in the air, couldn't help but agree. The night was theirs.

Lana's head was spinning. It wasn't the room full of strangers or the music blasting in her ears, but the alcohol coursing through her veins. She'd been sipping on whiskey for a while now, the warmth spreading from her chest to the tips of her fingers, making everything feel lighter, more carefree.

She wasn't usually the one to get this tipsy, but something about tonight—the vibe, the crowd, and the tension in the air—had her a little more loosened up than usual.

She laughed, almost too loudly, as she spun around, looking for someone to tease, someone to talk to. Her gaze landed on Derek Hale, the brooding, mysterious guy who'd been hanging around the edges of the party all night, like he was looking for someone—or something. His sharp eyes swept over the room, but when they locked onto hers, Lana couldn't help but saunter over, her steps a little unsteady, but confident.

"Hey there, dark and mysterious," she said, her voice a little breathier than usual as she sidled up to him. "Looking for someone?"

Derek glanced at her, his expression unreadable. He was trying to maintain his composure, but something in the way he tensed told her he wasn't entirely sure what to make of her.

"You know my brother, right?" Lana asked, leaning in slightly, her words tinged with the playful nature that alcohol always brought out in her. "Scott McCall? The new guy, getting all the attention these days?"

Derek's gaze flickered, his jaw tightening, but he quickly masked it with an almost imperceptible shrug. "I know him," he said, his voice low. "Where is he?"

Lana raised an eyebrow, her drunken smile widening. She crossed her arms, leaning against the nearest counter as she studied him. "Oh, you're looking for him?" she teased, her tone a bit more mischievous than she intended. "Should've just said so. I can help you find him, but only if you're up for it."

She bit her lip, eyes sparkling with more than a little flirtation. Her tipsy state made her bolder than usual, and she couldn't help but enjoy the way Derek seemed to shift uncomfortably under her attention.

Derek's eyes narrowed slightly as he took a step closer. "It's important," he muttered, clearly distracted, still looking for Scott. But then his gaze softened, as though realizing he hadn't answered her question.

"Let me guess," Lana said with a smirk, half-drunk and half-entertaining herself with the moment. "You're the type to ignore a good time when it's staring you in the face?"

"Not at all," Derek replied with a slight tilt of his head. "I just don't mix personal with... whatever this is."

Lana raised her glass to him, her grin wide and playful. "Maybe you should," she shot back, before leaning in a little too much and nearly knocking over her drink. "But hey, I get it. You're probably just here to find my little brother, huh?"

Derek's eyes flickered once again with something she couldn't quite place. His jaw clenched, and he stepped back slightly, as if breaking their close proximity was the only way to regain control.

"I'll find him," he said, his voice gruff. But before he could walk away, Lana caught his arm, her touch light but deliberate.

"You know," she said with a teasing lilt, "I never forget a good conversation... Maybe you'll find a way to make it up to me later."

Derek paused for a moment, caught between being intrigued and frustrated. He pulled away gently, shaking his head slightly.

"Yeah, maybe," he muttered, before walking away.

Lana stood there for a moment, the buzz from the alcohol still coursing through her veins, but a strange curiosity bubbling up. Who the hell was this guy? Why did he seem so intent on finding Scott? She wasn't sure yet, but as she turned back to the party, she couldn't help but smile to herself.

The night had taken an unexpected turn, and now the duo of mischief-makers—Lana and Alison, found themselves stumbling through the front door of the Argent house after Derek dropped them off. The front porch light flickered on as they tried to be as stealthy as possible, but Lana's high heels clicked loudly on the wooden floorboards of the porch, making it hard for them to hide their approach.

"Shh!" Lana whispered, her giggle echoing in the air. "We're fine, they won't even notice."

Alison, barely standing straight, rolled her eyes. "Oh, sure, we're totally stealthy right now," she muttered. "This is why we shouldn't drink too much."

The door creaked open, and they shuffled inside, trying to make as little noise as possible. And that's when they saw him.

Chris Argent, standing just inside the entryway with his arms crossed, leaning casually against the wall with an unreadable look in his eyes. He had clearly been waiting for them.

Lana froze, caught mid-step, her eyes widening at the sight of him. She had seen a small peak at Alison's father from afar and knew he was hot but there was something about him. He exuded authority, confidence, and the kind of dangerous charm that made him hard to ignore. She had never really seen him up close before, but now—now she couldn't look away.

"Going somewhere?" Chris's voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. His eyes swept over the three of them, taking in their disheveled appearance.

Alison, startled, tried to straighten herself. "Dad! We—we weren't doing anything!"

Lana, still too tipsy to hide her wide grin, added with a smirk, "Oh, we're definitely doing something, just... not what you think."

Chris's gaze snapped to Lana, his eyes narrowing. "Lana, right? You and my daughter seem to be getting into trouble lately."

Lana let out a soft laugh, a playful glint in her eyes as she swayed just a little. "I think trouble is just my middle name," she said, letting her voice drop into a teasing tone.

Chris didn't miss the flirtatious undertone. His eyebrows shot up ever so slightly, his arms still crossed. "Is that so?" His voice was even, but the shift in his demeanor made it clear he was starting to put things together.

Alison, sensing the tension, quickly took a step toward her father. "We're sorry, okay? We didn't mean to—"

"Alison, stop," Lana interrupted, her voice still light but with a hint of mischief. She took a few slow, deliberate steps toward Chris, clearly aware of how she looked in front of him. "We're adults, right? Just... let us have a little fun. No harm, no foul."

Her words were soft, but her body language spoke volumes. The way she tilted her head slightly to one side, the way her lips curled into a playful, almost provocative smile—it was all deliberate, all meant to catch Chris's attention.

Chris's eyes flickered between her and Alison for a moment before he gave a low chuckle. "Fun, huh? You two are definitely full of surprises. "Aren't you a little young to be drinking?"

Lana leaned against the doorframe casually, almost lazily. "Oh, I'm full of a lot more than just surprises," she said, her tone suggestive, as she let her gaze linger on him for a second too long. "I'm not young enough to mess the sheets up either."

Chris raised an eyebrow at her boldness. He wasn't used to being flirted with so directly, especially not by someone who was much younger than him. But there was something about her confident attitude that caught him off guard, something that made him second-guess his initial response.

Alison, still drunk but starting to realize what was happening, stepped in again. "Lana! What are you—"

But Lana held up a hand, cutting her off. She couldn't stop herself now—her heart was racing in a way she hadn't expected. "Relax, Ally. I'm just having a little fun."

Chris, sensing the tension and realizing that things were getting out of hand, let out a low sigh. "You're both pushing it," he said, his voice firm but with a hint of amusement. "You know your limits, right?"

Lana, never one to back down from a challenge, took a step closer. She was standing inches away from him now, her eyes locked onto his with an intensity that wasn't lost on him.

"I don't know," she said quietly, her voice soft but pointed. "Maybe I'd like to know what my limits are... with you."

The words hung in the air, thick with tension. Chris stared at her, clearly caught off guard by her boldness. His gaze dropped to her lips for the briefest of moments before he met her eyes again.

"I think you've had enough fun for one night," he said, finally breaking the silence, his tone less certain than before, but still authoritative. "Let's get you both cleaned up."

Lana, still grinning, raised a hand in mock surrender. "Fine, fine," she said, but her voice held a playful, flirtatious edge. "But, just so you know, I think you're kind of cute when you get all serious like that."

Chris shook his head, his lips twitching with a faint smile,"You're going to be trouble, I can already tell."

Lana laughed softly, her eyes dancing with mischief as she replied, "I've been trouble my whole life but that's what makes it fun."

With one last lingering glance, she finally stepped back, letting her gaze linger on him just long enough to leave him questioning if there was more to her words than she was letting on. As she turned to follow Alison to the stairs, her heart was still pounding—but this time, it wasn't from the alcohol. No, it was something else entirely. And Chris Argent had no idea what he was about to unleash by simply being himself.

With one last lingering glance, she finally stepped back, letting her gaze linger on him just long enough to leave him questioning if there was more to her words than she was letting on. As she turned to follow Alison to the stairs, her heart was still pounding—but this time, it wasn't from the alcohol. No, it was something else entirely. And Chris Argent had no idea what he was about to unleash by simply being himself.

The warm scent of fresh coffee drifted through the Argent household as Lana hummed to herself, standing in front of the kitchen counter. The morning sun poured through the large windows, casting a golden glow over the room. She was wearing a pair of Alison's pajama shorts—short enough to be scandalous—and a tank top that clung to her curves a little too perfectly. The clothes weren't hers, but she'd snatched them from Alison's closet, figuring she might as well have some fun.

Alison had passed out again in her room after groaning something about a hangover, which left Lana alone in the kitchen. Well, almost alone.

Chris Argent walked in, looking slightly surprised to see her there, especially in that outfit. His sharp eyes flickered over her, but his expression remained unreadable. He was dressed in his usual crisp button-up, the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, and his morning stubble made him look even more rugged than usual.

Lana, pretending not to notice his scrutiny, simply smirked. "Morning, Mr. Argent," she purred, dragging out his name just a little longer than necessary. She turned back to the counter, where she was making coffee, fully aware that her movements were slow and deliberate.

Chris raised an eyebrow, already sensing the mischief in her tone, he warily greeted her, "Morning. You're up early."

Lana gave a lazy stretch, her tank top riding up just enough to tease. "Couldn't sleep," she said casually, grabbing a spoon and stirring the sugar into her coffee. She glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes glinting. "And besides, I figured you wouldn't mind some company."

Chris sighed, pouring himself a cup of coffee and asked,"Where's Alison?"

Lana smiled and replied, "Still dead to the world, she's got the worst hangover" She turned, resting a hip against the counter, and brought the spoon to her lips, sucking off the excess sugar in a slow, exaggerated motion. Her eyes never left his.

Chris exhaled through his nose, shaking his head slightly. "Lana..."

She licked her lips, setting the spoon down with an innocent expression. "What? You like your coffee black, don't you?"

Chris gave her a pointed look before taking a sip from his own mug, "You're pushing your luck, you know that?"

Lana grinned, stepping closer. "Mmm. You keep saying that." She deliberately brushed past him, her fingers barely ghosting over his arm as she reached for the cream. "But you don't seem too upset about it."

Chris set his cup down, pinching the bridge of his nose, telling her, "Lana, you're playing a dangerous game."

She leaned in just slightly, her breath warm against his shoulder, she whispered, "Oh, I love dangerous games."

Chris clenched his jaw. His fingers tightened slightly around his coffee mug, but he kept his composure. "You should eat something before you start talking yourself into trouble," he told her, trying to distract her from him.

Lana pouted playfully, dipping a finger into the sugar bowl before bringing it to her lips and licking it clean. "Mmm, sweet. But I think I'd rather have something else..."

Chris huffed out a laugh, shaking his head as he finally looked her in the eyes and realized, "You're trouble, McCall."

Lana winked and said, "But I'm your trouble this morning, aren't I?"

Chris smirked despite himself, lifting his cup to take another sip, but not before muttering under his breath, "God help me."

Lana just grinned, knowing she'd won this round.

Chris had hoped ignoring Lana's antics would make her lose interest. Instead, she only seemed to double down, practically making herself at home in his kitchen.

She strutted toward the fridge, still in Alison's tiny pajama shorts, humming to herself as she bent down to grab the eggs. Chris made the mistake of glancing over at the same moment, immediately looking away when he realized just how much leg she was showing.

"Alright, what are you doing?" he asked, sipping his coffee in an attempt to stay focused.

Lana straightened up, flashing him an innocent smile as she set the eggs on the counter, answeing him, "Making breakfast, obviously."

Chris exhaled sharply and pointed out, "I don't need you making me breakfast."

Lana gasped dramatically, clutching her chest, "What, you don't want to experience my cooking skills? I'm a culinary genius, Mr. Argent."

Chris shot her a skeptical look and said, "You were licking sugar off your fingers five minutes ago."

Lana let out a giggle and told him, "That's just good technique."

Chris turned back to his coffee, wisely deciding not to engage further.

Undeterred, Lana cracked an egg into a frying pan, letting it sizzle as she grabbed a spatula. She moved with ease, exaggerated just enough to draw attention to the way her hips swayed.

Chris watched her out of the corner of his eye, but refused to comment.

"My brother usually burns everything, so I've kinda taken over kitchen duty whenever my mom is at work," Lana told him as she flipped the eggs, then tossed some bread into the toaster. "You should be thanking me."

Chris leaned against the counter, arms crossed, "I'll save my thanks until I see whether or not the kitchen survives this."

Lana grinned and grabbed a piece of bacon, popping it into her mouth. She made a show of chewing slowly, letting out a quiet, satisfied hum. "Mmm... good bacon."

Chris rolled his eyes and asked, "Are you always this dramatic in the morning?"

Lana shrugged, responding, "What can I say? Mornings are better with entertainment." She turned to face him, twirling the spatula between her fingers. "And you, Chris, are very fun to mess with."

Chris took another long sip of his coffee. "I should've made you sleep outside."

Lana gasped, pressing a hand to her heart, pouting, "You wound me, sir."

The toaster popped, and Lana turned back, grabbing the toast and buttering it with slow, deliberate strokes. Chris sighed, watching as she continued her teasing, obviously enjoying his reactions.

When the food was finally plated, she slid a plate toward him with a wink, "Made with love."

Chris stared at the plate, then at her, mummbling, "Made with something, that's for sure."

Lana just grinned at him, taking a bite of her toast and licking a stray crumb from her thumb, "Eat up, Argent. You'll need energy to keep up with me."

Chris shook his head, but as he picked up his fork, he couldn't help but smirk. God help him, this girl was trouble. As he ate, he couldn't help but smile at the taste of the eggs and bacon. She was a pretty good chef, he thought to himself...better than his wife. At that thought, he sighed, setting down his fork. "You do know I'm way too old for you and have a wife, right?"

Lana, unfazed, leaned against the counter and grinned. "So? I like my men older anyways." She licked a bit of butter off her fingertip and popped a piece of bacon into her mouth, she continued, "More experience. More control. Better hands."

Chris closed his eyes briefly, silently praying for patience, "You do realize this isn't going to work on me, right?"

Lana just smirked, "Isn't it?"

Before Chris could reply, the sound of footsteps padding down the stairs interrupted them. Alison, still half-asleep and wearing an oversized hoodie, rubbed her eyes as she walked into the kitchen.

"Why do I smell bacon?" she mumbled before freezing mid-step. Her gaze darted between Lana—who was perched casually at the dining table, dressed in her stolen pajamas—and her dad, who looked like he was mentally counting down the seconds until he could escape.

Lana waved cheerfully with her fork, greeting her, "Morning, sleeping beauty."

Alison narrowed her eyes and asked, "What are you doing here?"

"Being a gracious house guest." Lana took a bite of toast, chewing innocently, "Your dad and I had breakfast together. Super romantic."

Chris sighed, "Lana—"

"Oh my God." Alison groaned, plopping into a chair across from Lana, "Please tell me you did not flirt with my dad."

Lana beamed at her, telling her, "I absolutely flirted with your dad."

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose, "I regret every choice that led to this moment."

Alison groaned again, grabbing a slice of toast and said, "You're impossible."

Lana kicked her feet up onto the empty chair beside her, her knee just barely nudging Chris's leg under the table. He stiffened slightly, shooting her a warning glance, but she just took another slow sip of her coffee, watching him over the rim of her mug.

Alison caught the look and nearly choked on her toast. "Lana!"

"What?" Lana asked, all innocent doe eyes.

Alison buried her face in her hands and groaned, "I hate you."

Chris stood up abruptly, taking his coffee with him, telling them, "I'm going to get some air before I lose my mind." He glanced at Alison. "Your friend is your problem now."

As he left, Lana leaned toward Alison with a wicked grin. "You have to admit, your dad is kinda hot."

Alison threw a piece of toast at her while Lana just laughed.

Chris stepped out onto the back porch, inhaling the crisp morning air as he tried to collect his thoughts. It wasn't the first time a younger woman had flirted with him—but this was different. This was his daughter's new best friend. 

Chris groaned, rubbing his temples. He was a grown man, a seasoned hunter, a protector of humanity. He had faced werewolves, violent creatures, and the dangers lurking in the shadows of the world.

And yet, here he was—retreating outside because a teenage girl had decided to turn him into her morning entertainment.

He could still hear Lana and Alison bickering through the open window.

"He totally wants me."

"Shut up, Lana."

"I mean, if your mom wasn't in the picture..."

Chris exhaled sharply, deciding then and there that this was not a situation he was going to engage with. Ever. Not that it would stop Lana.

Minutes later, the back door swung open behind him, and he didn't even need to turn around to know who it was. "Miss me already?" Lana's voice was filled with smug amusement.

Chris glanced over his shoulder, leveling her with a look. "Do you ever stop?"

She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her smirk still in place, "Not really. Keeps life interesting."

Chris shook his head, taking a sip of his coffee, "You're impossible."

"You say that like it's a bad thing." She stretched lazily, fully aware of his gaze on her, "Look, don't get all tense on me. I was just having a little fun."

Chris exhaled and told her, "I'm twice your age, Lana."

"And?" She arched a brow, "I've got a thing for silver foxes."

Chris choked on his coffee, "Jesus Christ."

Lana grinned, looking far too pleased with herself. Before Chris could respond, Alison's voice rang out from inside, "Lana, get in here and stop harassing my father!"

Lana pouted dramatically. "Guess I've been summoned." She took a step back inside, pausing to throw Chris one last look, "See you around, Mr. Argent."

Chris ran a hand over his face, exhaling slowly. This is my life now.  

And for some reason... he had the sinking suspicion that this wasn't the last time Lana McCall would push his patience to its absolute limit.

Chris had survived werewolves, hunters, and countless dangerous encounters. But nothing—nothing—had prepared him for the relentless force of nature that was Lana McCall.

Breakfast was a disaster.

Not in the traditional sense. The food was fine, the coffee was strong, and Alison was finally waking up enough to join the conversation without threatening bodily harm.

No, the disaster came in the form of Lana sitting across from him, smirking, casually nudging his leg under the table like she had no shame.

Chris cleared his throat, setting his coffee down with unnecessary force. "So," he started, choosing to ignore her, "you two have any plans for today?"

Alison yawned, running a hand through her messy hair. "I was thinking of dragging her home before mom gets back and starts asking questions."

"I can be very charming when I want to be," Lana said, twirling her spoon between her fingers before popping it into her mouth and slowly pulling it out.

Chris refused to react.

Alison groaned and told her, "Lana. Stop seducing my father. It's weird."

Lana snickered, "You're just jealous."

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose and started "I—"

"I mean, your dad's hot. And if you don't want me flirting with him, maybe he should stop looking so damn good while making coffee." She propped her chin on her palm, looking Chris up and down with amusement, "It's really his fault if you think about it."

Chris did not choke on his coffee. Not this time. He had learned his lesson.

Alison just stared at Lana, unimpressed. "You need help."

Lana shrugged and aggreed with her. Chris sighed, taking a long sip of coffee, desperately pretending he wasn't caught in the middle of a very inappropriate breakfast conversation. Just when he thought things couldn't get worse, Lana stretched her legs out under the table, the toe of her borrowed socks brushing against his calf.

Chris stiffened. Nope. Absolutely not.

He pushed his chair back and stood up so fast the table shook, "I have things to do."

Lana smirked, teasing him, "Running away already?"

He gave her a pointed look. "I have work."

Lana's smirk widened, "Shame."

Chris turned to Alison, who was rubbing her temples like this was giving her a migraine and said, "Get her out of my house."

"I'm trying," Alison huffed, looking at Lana and muttering, "She's like a parasite."

Chris didn't wait for more commentary. He left the kitchen, heading straight for the garage, where he could sit in his car and reevaluate every decision that led him to this moment.

Lana McCall was a menace. And, worst of all... Chris wasn't entirely sure she wasn't winning.

_____
This was orignally two chapters but I merged them together because they were both pretty short and it's all about Chris here! I haven't watched Teen Wolf in a while so forgive me if stuff is over the place in this chapter, I skimmed the script. 

vote and comment x 

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