July 17th, 1989
Peter stares at the back of the other boy, blinking wide, bewildered eyes.
"I don't understand." He says, pleading for an explanation. "You said you didn't want to live like that. We were gonna…" He pauses, voice breaking. "We were gonna go away. We applied to colleges."
Chris clenches his fists at his sides, not turning around to face the wolf. "I changed my mind." He says. His tone's thick and determined, but Peter thinks he reads pain under there and it only makes him more confused.
"But why?" Peter presses. "It's your dad, right? Once you get away from him-"
"I don't want to get away from him!" Chris shouts, finally looking at Peter. His blue eyes are wet with tears and anger. "And what about your sister, huh? You want to lose her? Because that's what's going to happen if you run away with a hunter."
"You're not a hunter." Peter protests.
"That's where you're wrong." Chris says.
Peter's world tilts. "No, you…Chris, you're different from them!" He insists.
"No, I'm not!" Chris shouts. "And neither are you! You're not different from any other werewolf out there. You're just another monster."
Peter's shocked speechless, staring at Chris in betrayal and heartbreak. The hunter's face flashes in regret.
"Peter, I-"
"Go." Peter says.
Chris doesn't move, hand caught halfway in the air where he reached out toward the wolf.
"Go!" Peter snarls, eyes flashing. Chris shifts backward immediately before turning and running, fleeing from the distraught creature.
Peter clutches at his chest, taking in shuddered, shallow breaths as his world spins around him. Tears spring from his eyes, helpless sobs ripping through him. He huffs in desperate inhales. An agonized howl is pulled out of him and he collapses back against the tree behind him, falling on the ground and shielding his head in his knees.
He should've known better than to trust an Argent. He'd been so stupid.
Two Wrongs:
Fall leaves collect on the ground, dreary reminders of the impending winter. With summer officially at an end, everyone's settling into their usual, busy routine and the vitality of the pack has boiled down to a simmer. Things don't tend to get too energetic with the pack members much anymore, given the constant death and panic, but there's still a noticeable downfall to them as the seasons change and the days shorten.
Peter steps through the preserve, inhaling the scent of decaying plants. He feels more at home around death nowadays. Part of it has to do with his own foray into the underworld and part of it has to do with the constant presence of ash in his lungs and the eternal smell of burnt flesh. It's not just the smell of his own, either. The fire is something that haunts both him and Derek, there's no question about that, but sometimes he resents his nephew. Derek is luckier in his own way, since he didn't have to suffer through smelling his own family burn to death. The screams are horrid and the guilt eats away at you, but it's the slow, agonizing minutes of smelling flesh turn to charcoal as screams are ripped from his own family's lungs that tortures Peter. He can never really get the scent out of his nostrils.
Peter steps between the trees, listening to the heartbeat drawing nearer. He resents the leap in his pulse when he spots Chris waiting for him in the clearing. Peter has to remember not to think of it as their clearing. It hasn't been their's in years. Not since before Kate.
Peter often wonders if his relationship with Chris was the reason Kate happened in the first place. He suspects that Chris was originally sent after him, to find out all about the Hales, but he guesses the hunter didn't have the guts to follow through with anything. He didn't warn Peter though either. He's still not sure if he blames Chris or not. He knows the man genuinely loved him at some point, but not enough to choose Peter's side. In the end, he chose his family over his boyfriend.
Boyfriend
Peter hates the term. Not just because it's common, but because it seems so inaccurate. What they'd had was so much more than that. At least, it felt like that at the time. He'd thought of Chris as his soul mate. And then he'd left and Peter got stuck babysitting Derek and following after Talia, living a mundane life as a faceless member of the pack. He hadn't even been second-in-command. Or third. He was last, probably. Even the cubs had more say than he did.
He can't really blame Talia for that. Peter was never meant to stay around anyway. He always claimed he never had anywhere else to go, but the truth is he was just hoping Chris would come back. He'd been lovestruck and stupid. He was pathetic then and he thinks he's still pathetic now, wrapped around the hunter's finger. After all, he's currently traipsing through the woods without a second thought, just because Chris called him.
Peter steps into the clearing. Chris watches him with sparkling blue eyes and Peter ignores the butterflies in his stomach.
"Well, I'm here." Peter announces, holding his hands out to his side with a flare, as if he's showing off the goods.
"I can see that." Chris says, tone mild like usual. "You know where we are?"
"The preserve." Peter replies, unimpressed. Chris waits, expecting more. "If you want latitude and longitude, you'll have to consult a map." The wolf says.
"It used to be our spot." Chris points out, sending Peter's heart racing. "Do you remember the way things were? Back in high school?"
Peter takes in a sharp inhale, composing himself after a beat of surprise has him faltering. "What's to remember? Hormones, acne, awkward fumbling-"
"Us."
Peter studies the earnestness in Chris' eyes and snorts. "It's a bit early in the day to get sentimental." He says.
Chris frowns. "I'm not…" He trials off, letting out a heavy breath.
Peter feels a flash of sympathy. He buries it quickly. "If you're coping with your wife's passing by looking for a rebound, try somewhere else." He says.
Chris glares at him, fury and pain behind his eyes. He takes a step forward, fingers clenching at his side, then stops himself. "Why do you do that?" He snaps. "Do you think it makes you clever to go around acting like a jackass? To hurt people?"
"What do you want me to do? Hold your hand and tell you everything's going to be okay?" Peter asks sarcastically.
Chris watches him, considering the offer. "I wouldn't push you away." He says.
"That would be a first." Peter snaps.
"I'm sorry." Chris says. "I never stopped regretting leaving you. I loved my wife, I love Allison, but you…you were my soul mate."
Peter's breath stutters out of him. Chris steps closer and the wolf can feel himself getting drawn in. "Things have changed." Peter insists. "My priorities have changed." Peter has his own daughter out there. He has his own family to think about, but Chris is standing right in front of him, offering something Peter has long since given up hope on but still needs right down to his bones. He's ached for Chris for years and the hunter's bringing it all up again, staring at him with a soft longing in his eyes that's roping him in.
"We could make it work, you know." Chris says. "What we had is still there. I feel it every time I'm around you." The hunter reaches out toward the wolf, fingers hovering centimeters from him.
It takes all of Peter's strength to step back. "You know what I feel every time I'm around you?" He asks, putting all of his anger and loathing into his voice. "I feel what it was like to have you walk away from me so you could become a hunter. You left me and then you murdered those like me." Peter snarls. "And before you even think to say it, you destroyed lives long before I did. No matter how many people I've killed, you shed blood first. And you sat idly by while your sister burned my entire family. Burned me. But you were too busy being daddy's little boy to give a damn about me or anyone else. That's what I feel, Chris."
Chris looks like he's been slapped and Peter turns, stomping away.
"What about Laura?" Chris says, stopping him in his tracks. "If you're so righteous, why'd you murder your niece?"
Peter clenches his hands at his side, feeling that familiar wave of nausea and regret. "It was a necessary sacrifice."
"Was it?" Chris asks. "You can drop the act, Peter. You were never one of the good guys."
"Then why'd you ever bother with me?" Peter inquires.
"Maybe I'm not such a good guy either." Chris says.
Peter looks at him over his shoulder, studying his face. Chris is watching him quietly, patiently, and on some level they both realize that Peter's lost, that he's just as caught up in the hunter as he's always been and it's only a matter of time before he's crawling back to Chris. Peter's still stubborn though. He'll fight this as long as he needs to.
"Well, you know how the old cliché goes: two wrongs don't make a right." Peter says. He marches out of the clearing, leaving the hunter staring after him.
September 14th, 1987
Peter doesn't expect anything interesting to come out of junior year. As far as he's concerned, it's just another way to pass the time until he can get out of this shithole. He hates Beacon Hills. Family legacy or not, he's planning on booking it as soon as he's 18. Maybe sooner if he can get his hands on some money. Talia's got her claws firmly on the family fortune though, and he doesn't think she's going to give anything away until he's legal.
He thinks it's all bullshit. It's not like she needs him sticking around anyway. There are too many people in the house as it is – nephews, nieces, cousins, uncles and aunts, all piling up over each other in an overwhelming mess. The Hale house might be a mansion, but as it is, he feels like he can't move five feet without running into someone and he's desperate for a little independence. He might love them all dearly (something he'd never admit out loud) but that doesn't mean he wants to deal with them 24/7.
Peter sighs, shifting in his seat in the front of the room. He never sits in the back. He should, he's not a particularly impressive student and it would be better for him to retreat where he can tune out and stare out the window, but he likes sitting up front. The teacher's forced to see how much he doesn't care that way, and it also means he's not stuck looking at the backs of his classmates. They're all frivolous and irritating.
A boy walks into the room. Peter looks up, finding himself staring into crystal blue eyes. He guy's gaze lingers on him, something like interest passing over his face. Peter internally rolls his eyes as he lets his attention drift to the blackboard. He's gotten plenty of attention around the school, girls and closeted guys checking him out and sending longing pheromones in his direction. He's just been made captain of the basketball team too, so he's pretty sure the scrutiny's going to increase. He's ready for that.
"Hey." The guy says, taking a seat next to Peter.
The wolf looks up. He's tempted to ignore the guy, but Talia's drilled him enough on manners and human conduct that he gives a brief nod of acknowledgement to be polite. Hopefully it's enough to discourage the boy from talking to him any further without making Peter come across like an asshole. He'd rather not go around making enemies, especially when this kid seems like he's going to be one of the popular crowd. Blond-haired, cordial, athletic, and undeniably handsome – yeah, this guy's going to make friends real quick and Peter has no intention of being on their bad side just because he wasn't feeling chatty.
"I'm Chris." The guy says, holding his hand out.
There are other people around. Peter wishes he'd talk to some of them, but for some reason Chris' attention seems singularly focused on the wolf. "Peter." He greets, shaking the hand quickly.
"You got a firm grip." Chris observes. "You do sports?"
This guy's angling for a conversation. Great.
"Basketball." Peter says.
"You any good?"
Peter shrugs. "Well enough." He says.
"Petie's just being modest." Chuck, one of the team members, speaks up from the row behind him.
Peter glares back at Chuck. "Peter." He corrects.
Chuck smirks. "Whatever Petie. Seriously, he's the best we got. Just made captain."
"Really?" Chris asks with interest.
"By the way, I'm Chuck."
"Chris."
Peter relaxes a bit, hoping Chris gets roped into a conversation with Chuck instead of focusing so much on him.
"You into basketball?" Chuck asks.
"I'm more of a wrestling type guy." Chris says. "But I play a good game."
"We're always looking for new guys. You should come give it a shot." Chuck says.
Peter sees Chris studying him and frowns.
"Yeah, I think I will." Chris says.
Chris sits in the stadium seats, watching as the basketball team practices. Peter gets the team into formation and they play a good game. It's not great, but they're still warming up from summer break, so that's to be expected. He's sure he'll have them all together in a couple of weeks. He better, they're due to play the high school in the next town.
Some part of his brain catalogues Chris' movements throughout the practice, the way the guy keeps his eyes focused almost exclusively on Peter and the way he leans forward, watching him steadily. The wolf's not sure what to make of the scrutiny, especially when it seems so blatant. Most guys who stare do so in a sort of dazed, admiring way, usually catching themselves before they can broadcast their interest. Chris doesn't try to be subtle, which is jarring enough as it is, but there's something about the way he stares too. He doesn't just watch, he observes, like he's been trained in it, and Peter isn't sure if it's some weird Sherlock type shit or if this guy's working an angle. Peter would offer to fuck him just to scare him into backing off, but he's pretty sure that would just encourage Chris and he's not actually interested. The guy's good looking, but Peter's not an idiot. People tend to get pretty worked up about the whole dude-on-dude thing and if this guy's obvious now, he'd be way worse if they actually had something going.
Practice ends. The team and coach hang back and Chris comes down to the court. Coach said he'd give the guy a shot when practice was over, if he was still interested. The guy missed tryouts, but coach is making a special case since they could use more team mates.
"Chris…what's your last name?" Coach asks.
"Argent."
Peter frowns. The name rings familiar, but he's not sure why.
"Okay, Argent, Hale's gonna take you for a spin. See what you're capable of."
Chris smirks. "Wouldn't have it any other way." He says quietly and Peter's jaw clenches. The guy's flirting with him now. Pretty obviously too, and Peter wonders if this guy has any sense of self preservation. Even if he didn't, he's turning Peter into a target too. Irritation flares in the wolf's gut.
Peter and Chris face off in the middle of the court and coach blows the whistle. Peter holds back initially, fighting his wolf instincts and going easy on the guy. He watches with wide eyes as Chris moves quickly, muscles strong and stiff as he maneuvers his body like a ballet dancer, sinking the ball through the net easily.
The team cheers.
"Point to Argent." Coach says.
They face off again and Peter still holds back, watching Chris to see what happens.
"Point to Argent. Come on, Hale, put some effort into it." Coach says.
"Kind of disappointed, Petie." Chris says when they face off again. "Thought you'd try a little harder."
Peter lets out a huff. He lets go a bit, stealing the ball easily. Chris blocks him halfway to the net and Peter tries to move around him. Chris isn't fazed by Peter's reflexes and he furrows his brows, wondering how this guy's managing to keep up. He stops trying to get around him and takes his shot, watching it sink into the basket victoriously.
"That's more like it!" Coach shouts excitedly.
"Pretty impressive." Chris concedes, taking in the distance between Peter and the basket.
They reunite in the middle of court, going one against one. Peter puts more energy into it this time and manages to block Chris' shot, stealing the ball and taking off down the court. Chris catches up to him easily, defending the net and catching Peter's throw mid-air.
Chris' arms lift up and his body moves, blowing up a slight breeze, and under the smell of deodorant and teenage boy, Peter catches the faint scent of mountain ash. His blood runs cold and he freezes, eyes widening when it finally comes to him.
Argent. Hunter.
Chris stops going to the other net when he notices that Peter's still stuck in place. The wolf looks over, staring at the hunter in horrified realization.
"Hale, what's the holdup?" Coach asks.
"Nothing, coach. My bad." Peter says, resuming the practice. When it's over, he leaves quickly, avoiding his team and fleeing before Chris can say anything to him. He catches Talia talking about the Argents later that night, talking about how the hunters are back in town. He doesn't mention that there's one in his class. There's nothing they can do about it anyway.
Peter lasts for a few months. Chris doesn't do anything aggressive, but he breaks the wolf slowly, drawing him in with knowing looks and soft words. He never does anything obvious, he just stands a fraction closer or talks a little lower, a little deeper. His voice hovers this edge of husky and it's nothing major, but Peter feels it vibrate against his nerves.
Chris stares, too, watching him with crystal blue eyes. Peter tries to focus his attention on other things. He observes Malia, silently disapproving of her relationship with Stiles but staying out of it. He sticks to pack business and, when that leaves him starved for entertainment, he fixes things up in his apartment. It's a routine that sustains him for a while, but eventually he's giving in, letting Chris run rough hands over his skin. He tries to ignore the knowledge that the man's palms are calloused from weaponry and fighting, that his age has blood attached. Peter's own hands are just as dirtied.
It's desperate fumbling at first, but Peter finds, much to his surprise, that Chris' touch chases away the feeling of flames that linger on the wolf's skin. His voice silences the screams that echo in his ears and his naked skin is a salve to Peter's wounds. When Chris fingers him, Peter falls back and gasps, releasing ash from his lungs and letting fresh air in. When Chris fucks him, Peter holds onto the hunter, letting out pleased growls as he's filled up in more ways than one. He throws his head back, a full body orgasm racing through him. Chris encourages it, drawing it out as much as possible and moaning Peter's name.
Afterwards is awkward. Chris asks him to stay, but Peter tries to play it off, pretending that it doesn't mean anything and that he doesn't want to hide himself away in the hunter's arms. It isn't until the fifth time that Peter finally stays, and they manage to traverse the Morning After with significantly less uneasiness than they could have. The only bad moment is on the second Morning After when Allison walks in and gapes at Peter and her dad. She flees and Peter wonders if that's the end of it.
Chris' solution is to have a talk with her and then suddenly Peter and Chris are dating. They're in a relationship. The whole pack learns about it from Allison and Peter learns about it from Derek, because before that he was convinced it was all casual. He doesn't say anything to Chris, he just lets it happen.
By the time the pack's starting their senior year, Peter has moved into the Argents' apartment. It's a weird sort of happiness that has Peter more edgy than content, because he's just not sure it will last.
September 15th, 1987
"You left practice pretty quick the other day." Chris says.
"Yeah, I had to get home." Peter mutters.
"You live in that mansion on the edge of town, right?" Chris asks.
Peter gives Chris a dark, searching look, warning bells going off in his mind.
"I heard some of the guys talking about it." Chris explains.
It doesn't make Peter feel any better, but he tries to transform his expression into something less suspicious. It wouldn't do to let on that he knows who Chris is. "What about it?" He asks.
"Nothing. Just never really knew anyone who lived in a mansion before."
"Well, it's not all it's cracked up to be." Peter murmurs, glaring down at his notebook. It's a new one, because Laura threw up on his after she and Harold broke into the candy stash the night before. Which means Peter didn't sleep well either, because Harry was hyper for hours and wouldn't settle. It's another downside to sharing a room with his 8-year-old nephew. Peter hates it. They were supposed to clear out the basement for the teenage Hale by the end of the summer, but pack stuff came up and it's only half done. He'd gotten some paint for it, but it's been in the garage for months, and he thinks by the time they get the room done, he'll be graduating. That or another baby will come along and Peter and Harry will end up sharing the basement room too. Peter sighs.
"Problems?" Chris asks.
Peter's about to snub him with an off-handed comment, but he figures it couldn't hurt too much to let off some steam. "My nephew's annoying." He says. It's not a lot of steam, but he manages to skim a little off the top just by saying the thought out loud.
"I have a sister." Chris says. "She's four. Annoying as sin."
"What's her name?" Peter asks. It's partially out of mild interest, partially just to make conversation, and mostly because he realizes he can get some information on the Argents' this way. Maybe being around Chris isn't such a bad idea.
"Kate." Chris says and just the way he says it reveals how irritating he finds her. "I mean, don't get me wrong, I love her, she's my sister. But sometimes I just want to…"
"Run away?" Peter finishes.
"I was gonna say strangle her, but yeah, that too." Chris replies.
Peter buries the realization that maybe he and Chris aren't that different. Class starts and he tries to ignore the way Chris keeps glancing at him, something blooming behind blue irises. They're not friends, Peter tells himself. He doesn't want to be this guy's friend. He's just going to get some information out of him, that's all.
Allison walks into the kitchen, still in her pajamas and yawning. Her eyes are closed and she's shuffling around in Hello Kitty slippers, managing to stay balanced on the smooth tiles. Peter's still not sure she isn't part supernatural.
"Here." He hands her a bowl of cereal and she finally parts her eyelids.
"Thanks." She mutters, taking the food and pouring in milk. She's not even surprised anymore when Peter does something domestic. He's a little worried that they're starting to develop some sort of familial bond. He already looks at her like family, and she's actually started to come to him with problems on occasion. They're still distant for the most part, but it's working its way toward something significant and he's not sure what to make of it. "Where's dad?"
"He got a phone call from a client." Peter explains, spreading jelly on a slice of bread. Allison's old enough to make her own lunch, but Peter's taken to doing it anyway. She stopped complaining when she realized he tends to slip money into the bag. Just in case, he always says, adding a chocolate bar as well.
Peter yawns, taken off guard by how tired he is. He thinks he's started getting too comfortable in his routine lately, because he's been growing more and more restful. Maybe it's just because he and Chris are still in the honeymoon phase, over-sexed and blissed out. They're going to be in it a while longer, judging by the engagement ring he found in Chris' desk. He knows it isn't a relic from his former marriage, because it's brand new. They also have a reservation for dinner this Friday, so Peter's pretty sure that's the big moment. He can't say he's overjoyed, but he's not protesting. He's not much of anything really.
Hesitantly Happy is how he'd probably categorize himself. And Domestically Fatigued, he adds, giving another yawn.
"Scott's been tired a lot too." Allison observes, looking more awake now that she's had a few spoonfuls of breakfast.
"Has he?" Peter asks. He hasn't seen much of the pack in the last few days. He thinks he ought to give Derek a visit. They haven't grown any more comfortable with each other in time, but he enjoys the look of annoyance on his nephew's face every time he shows up, so it makes the trips worth it.
"Yeah. He's also been sick." Allison says. "Can werewolves get sick?"
"Like the flu?" Peter looks back at her, frowning.
"Yeah."
He tilts his head, considering. He slices Allison's sandwich diagonally and puts it in a container. "It's possible." He concludes. "Rare. But Scott's always gone against expectation."
Allison's lips twitch fondly as she thinks of the wolf.
"Even werewolves can overwork themselves." Peter says, tossing money and chocolate into Allison's lunch bag. He put carrots in there too, even though he knows she probably won't eat them.
"I suppose." Allison says. She takes the sack from him and dumps her bowl in the sink.
After she leaves for school, Peter swings by Derek's loft. He asks after Scott and Derek just shrugs noncommittally.
October 31st, 1987
Peter hates Halloween. He's not sure how he let Chuck talk him into coming to a Halloween party, but he regrets it as soon as they get into the house. Everyone's dancing and drinking, getting up to the usual teenage mayhem while donning festive costumes that leave Peter gritting his teeth. He rolls his eyes when he spots another 'werewolf' and he sips on his beer, regretting that he can't get plastered.
For a brief moment, he debates leaving but then he remembers that the only other place he could go is home and he'd rather not get stuck babysitting a bunch of hyperactive cubs on a Saturday night. Or any night really, but doing it over the weekend just makes him feel like he has no life whatsoever. And watching them all freak out over Halloween just reminds him of how long it's been since he enjoyed the holiday. Not since their parents died and Talia took over the pack.
Peter slips out of the back door with a sigh and moves to the yard. He can hear faint moans from couples hidden in the bushes, but there's no one immediately in sight. He can manage to trick himself into feeling alone as he leans against the house, sipping his drink and watching the swings on the swingset shift in the breeze.
Conversation from a nearby hedge drifts over to him.
"Oh shit." A guy curses. Peter catches the smell of spunk and wrinkles his nose.
"Already?" A girl asks. "You didn't even put it in yet."
"Shut up, Cindy."
"Don't tell me to shut up."
"Come on, Cindy, don't get mad. Please don't tell anyone."
Peter shakes his head, smirking into his bottle. Cindy works her way out of the bush and stomps past. One of the guys from the team trails after her earnestly and Peter tucks his head down, smiling softly to himself as they go by.
"You look happy." Chris says, slipping out of the back and sidling up next to him. He smells like alcohol and is slightly flushed, having drunk just enough to get buzzed without become fully inebriated. "Share with the class." He says, gesturing with his bottle before lifting it to his lips.
Peter and Chris get along alright now. They're kind of friends, surprisingly, even though Peter's tried to maintain his distance. He hasn't forgotten that Chris' family are hunters.
"Just something I overhead." Peter says in answer. Chris raises his eyebrows, prompting Peter to explain. "A dispute of a sexual nature." He says. "Involving the words premature and ejaculation."
"Ah." Chris says, grinning. "My sympathies to both parties." He says, toasting his beer.
Peter shakes his head.
"So what are you doing out here by yourself?" Chris asks. He leans against Peter, torso a warm presence against the wolf's side.
"I like being by myself." Peter replies.
"Do you? Or do you just not like being around other people?"
Peter frowns. "They're the same thing, aren't they?"
Chris tilts his head thoughtfully. "I don't think so. Enjoying being by yourself means that no matter how pleasant the company, you'd rather be alone, you know? Not liking other people means the problem's with them and that if you found the company pleasant, you'd be more inclined to have it. For instance, if your options were being alone or spending time with, say, a strapping young man with blond hair and blue eyes you would choose…?"
The wolf stares at Chris, thrown by the guy's flirtation. Peter's lips spread in a slow, amused smile and he looks away, staring back out at the swingset. "You know, you send the wrong message when you say stuff like that." He points out, drinking his beer for lack of something better to do. His heart's skipping in his chest and his stomach's turning in nervous coils.
"Oh? And what's that?" Chris asks, propping himself up against the house and watching the wolf with interest.
Peter glances at him, debating his answer. "That maybe you're into me." He says finally, figuring he might as well come out with it. "You can't just go around flirting with peo-"
Chris' lips press against his, cutting Peter's words off. The wolf's eyes widen in surprise at the warm press of the other guy's mouth. His heart stutters to a halt and his grip on his beer loosens. The bottle tips and Chris breaks away with a surprised gasp, looking down at the liquid spilled over his pants.
Peter blinks, staring in shock at the space Chris occupied earlier. His lips tingle and he licks them nervously, face burning at the taste of alcohol and Chris' mouth. He feels too warm now in the cool night air and butterflies are swarming in his abdomen. "Shit, sorry." He mutters, staring at Chris' soaked clothes.
Chris is laughing, amused. "It was gonna happen sometime tonight. I've never been to a party and not gotten alcohol spilled on me."
"Oh. Right." Peter says, looking down at the ground and biting his lip. He shouldn't be shy. He's Peter Hale, he doesn't do shy, but he wishes the ground would swallow him up.
"Hey." Chris says, stepping forward and pressing his fingers gently to Peter's jaw. The wolf looks up quickly, eyes wide. "You okay?"
Peter stiffens. "Of course." He says defensively. He's not fragile. He can take care of himself. He expects Chris to step away at his rough demeanor but the guy just grins.
"I'll let you spill more beer on me if you let me kiss you again." He offers.
Peter's lips part, voice catching in his throat when he's not sure what to say to that. Chris leans a fraction closer and Peter finally finds his words. "Someone will notice." He points out. There are windows all over the house and they're right next to the back door. Someone could walk out at any moment and see them.
"Come on." Chris says, grabbing his wrist. He pauses to place both of their beers on the windowsill then leads Peter around the side of the house.
"Where are we going?" Peter hisses.
"Shed." Chris says.
Peter sees the shack a few feet away. "Don't think we're supposed to go in there." He mutters.
"Which is exactly why we're going in there." Chris points out. "No one's gonna walk in on us."
Peter's heart leaps. His skin heats even further and he almost trips when Chris looks back at him with twinkling blue eyes. He's not sure how they progressed this far. Last he checked they weren't even friends and now Chris is taking him somewhere they can't be disturbed.
Chris takes out a paperclip and puts it into the knob, fiddling with the lock until the door opens.
Peter raises his eyebrows and is about to point out that B&E's a crime, but Chris pushes him into the rusty old shack. It's full of old tools and buckets and there's not a lot of room. Chris closes the door behind him and steps closer to Peter. There are broken, faded windows, letting moonlight stream in. It lights Chris in a halo and Peter's breath hitches.
Chris moves into his space, putting strong palms on Peter's hips and stepping in close to him. "I've wanted to do this since I saw you." Chris confesses.
Peter licks his lips and Chris' eyes track the movement. The wolf's not sure what to say. He can't exactly offer the same sentiment, but he knows he definitely wants to do this now. Whatever this is. It's coming up on him as a surprise, though, so he's not as composed as Chris. At least, that's how he rationalizes the fact that Chris is the one taking charge and not him.
"Lots of good looking guys at the school." Peter points out, staring down at Chris' mouth as the guy moves in closer to him.
"Don't want a guy. Just want you." Chris says.
Peter's face burns hot and Chris leans in, pushing their mouths together. Peter's fingers flex uselessly at his sides and his eyelids flutter shut. He presses back against Chris, feeling the other guy's lips move against his own. A soft noise escapes him when Chris' tongue joins the connection, tracing along his bottom lip. The wolf's hands come up, fisting Chris' t-shirt.
Chris threads fingers through Peter's hair and deepens the kiss, letting out a hungry noise as he explores Peter's mouth. The wolf's brows furrow as he gasps, clinging desperately onto the guy while his knees go weak. He's made out with a couple people, so he's no virgin to kissing, but this is like nothing he's ever felt before. He wants to bare his neck for Chris. He wants to let the guy take him to whole new heights of pleasure. It's both terrifying and wonderful.
Chris slips fingers under Peter's shirt, tracing over heated skin, and Peter feels a jolt go through him. He whimpers into Chris' mouth.
"Uncle Peter?" There's a knock on the shed and Peter frowns. Chris breaks away from him and they both look at the entrance curiously. "Uncle Pete! You in there!"
"Laura?" Peter asks. Chris steps away from him and Peter moves around the guy awkwardly, aware of the smell of hormones in the shed. He hopes Laura doesn't understand what it means. He opens the door, staring incredulously down at his niece. "Hey kiddo, what are you doing here?" He asks, kneeling down.
"Trick-or-treating! Mom, I found him!" Laura calls, looking in the distance. Peter peers around the door frame and sighs when he sees his sister.
"Peter. We have some family business." Talia says pointedly.
That means Peter's babysitting whether he wants to or not. Damn it.
"Peter, who's that?" Laura asks.
Peter looks back at Chris, who's watching them with a frown. "It's a friend." He says, heart racing. He prays Talia doesn't notice anything amiss about either of them when they step out. She's not totally on board with dating humans as it is and if she realizes he's a hunter, she'll flip. "Chris, this is my niece. Laura."
Peter picks the girl up as he exits the shed. Chris follows after, smiling at her.
"Hey Laura." He says.
"I, uh, gotta go." Peter says.
Chris nods. "That your sister?" He asks, gesturing at Talia.
The alpha's watching them with stern eyes and Peter tries to act normal.
"Yeah. Uh, sorry about this."
"No, it's cool. Go, be with your family." Chris says. "I'll see you at school?"
"Yeah, school."
Peter holds Laura and hurries after Talia. "I thought Mary was watching them."
"Something came up." Talia says. "Hunters went after Joshua."
Peter chews his cheek. "Where are the other kids?" He asks.
"Back at the house. Haley's keeping the fort down." Talia says. Haley's the second oldest, just shy of eleven. Peter can't wait till she's older and she gets to watch everyone. "But Laura wanted to come see her Uncle Peter." Talia says fondly, petting her daughter's cheek. Laura bounces in Peter's grip.
"I'm a witch!" Laura exclaims, looking up at Peter excitedly.
"Very spooky." Peter replies.
"Who was your friend?" Talia asks.
"Guy from school. He's on the basketball team."
Talia nods. "You should be careful." She warns.
"I know. I am." Peter promises. He's surprised when it registers as a lie.
Talia frowns, nostrils flaring at the smell of deception.
"I will." Peter corrects quickly, vowing to be more cautious from now on. It's one thing to know that Chris is a hunter, but his family's actually hunting now. For all Peter knows, Chris is in on it. Maybe he realizes who Peter is and is coming after him on purpose.
Peter's snapped from his thoughts when Laura urges them to stop so she can ring the doorbells of the neighboring houses. Talia bids goodbye, hurrying ahead as Peter gets stuck with impromptu trick-or-treating.
It's Friday. Scott's still sick, Allison's off with Isaac, and Peter's about to become engaged.
The wolf's sipping his white wine, watching his partner shift slightly across from him. It's the closest Chris comes to nervous fidgeting and it would mean nothing if Peter didn't know him so well. There's also the fact that Peter already found the ring. He got one of his own, just in case Chris gets cold feet and backs out. He's kind of hoping that's how it goes, just so he can see the surprise on the man's face.
Chris does work up the nerve to propose, though. He doesn't make a production of it. He doesn't even get out of his seat, he just hands the jewelry box to Peter during dessert.
"Oh, what could this be?" Peter says, trying to feign surprise.
"I know you found it, jackass." Chris says. "Come on, give me yours." He says, holding his hand out expectantly.
Peter snorts. "Snoop." He accuses, pulling the gift out of his jacket pocket.
"You're one to talk." Chris replies, taking the box and opening it. It's a simple band, nothing too showy or attention-seeking. Peter got it to match the one Chris bought.
The wolf slips the gold hoop around his ring finger, smiling softly. Neither of them has to actually say yes. The answer's obvious enough when they both put the jewelry on and then they're talking about other things, conversing over cake before going home and tumbling into bed together.
They don't ask about surnames, because that's bound to end in an argument. Both of them are too attached by family loyalties to be willing to take on the other's name. They could probably hyphenate, but Peter thinks the Hale and Argent monikers come with enough crap on their own and he's not eager to find out what kind of bullshit bringing them together is likely to cause. Plus he'd prefer to retain some dignity in the supernatural world and introducing himself as Peter Hale-Argent would be counterproductive.
They make love, slow and sweet, and lay together in the aftermath. Chris caresses the band on Peter's finger and pets his hands through the wolf's hair.
"I love you." Chris says.
Peter presses a kiss against the hunter's skin. He can't really say it back, not yet, but Chris seems to understand.
The door to the apartment opens and Peter tilts his head. "Allison's home." He says. He frowns at the huffing and shuffling. "She's not alone."
Chris looks at him questioningly and slips out of bed. Peter follows, throwing sweats on and grabbing a v-neck. He slips it over his head and chases after a shirtless Chris, who's pulled on jeans and has grabbed a gun from his nightstand.
Peter sniffs. "Mountain ash." He grumbles, eyeing the firearm. "I thought we talked about that."
"Seriously, Peter?" Chris asks. "Now's not the time."
Peter rolls his eyes. "You always say that."
"Well this time I mean it."
Peter smells blood and poison wafting from the living room. He steps around the hunter, giving the gun a wide berth, and proceeds into the area. Scott's on the sofa, looking pale and sickly. Allison's kneeling over him, rubbing sweaty hair out of his temples. Isaac and Lydia hover behind her.
"I got it!" Stiles shouts, racing into the room with grocery bags full of medicine and over the counter remedies. "One of these things is bound to work." He dumps the cargo on the coffee table and eyes his friend nervously. "I mean, it's just a cold, he's not poisoned, so it's gotta be, like, something you can give medicine for."
Chris stands beside Peter, watching the group curiously.
"Dad, something's wrong with him." Allison says, eyes wet.
Malia and Kira come into the room and Peter eyes his daughter cautiously. She still doesn't know that she has any relation to him. He's not sure he'll ever tell her at this point, but he still feels a wave of concern go through him when he smells blood on her.
"Are you alright?" He asks Malia while Chris rushes over to inspect Scott.
Malia frowns, confused. "Fine." She says, shrugging.
Peter sees Lydia eyeing him knowingly from across the room and turns his attention over to Chris and Scott. The teen's eyes are closed and he's shivering. He flinches when Chris touches him and the hunter shushes the wolf, studying his face.
"What is it?" Allison asks.
Chris shakes his head. "I've never seen anything like it." He confesses.
"We should call Deaton." Stiles says.
Peter yawns, stifling it behind his hand and he doesn't miss the glares sent his way. He's not bored he's just…tired. Exhausted, actually. In better shape than Scott though.
"What happened?" Peter asks.
The pack exchange lost expressions.
"We don't know." Kira says.
"There was this thing." Isaac adds. "It just come out of nowhere."
"It looked like shadows." Lydia says.
"Like a void." Stiles pipes up. "But humanoid."
Peter frowns.
October 31st, 1987
"That's not fair!" Trevor's whining, gesturing at Laura's full candy bag. Peter huffs in irritation. He's stuck with a mob of kids, all 11 or under, and they're all frustrated that Laura got extra trick-or-treating. Haley's the only one who isn't whining or causing trouble. She's become something of Peter's helper recently, trying to show how responsible she is so her mom ups her allowance. Peter takes what he can get.
"Laura, why don't you share?" Peter suggests.
Laura looks up at him heartbroken. "It's my candy. I earned it." She says.
"I know, sweetheart. But you want to be alpha someday, right?" He says. Laura nods eagerly. "Remember what your mom says 'A good alpha –"
"Has power, a great alpha shares it.'" Laura finishes, parroting her mother's words. She tips her treat bag, dumping the candy onto the floor and glaring at her uncle.
Peter watches the other cubs go for the candy with a sense of relief. That's another small victory for the night. He's had a few of them, starting with the fact that he got the kids to stay in the same room in the first place. And he managed to get the twins to stop tearing at the curtains. He gave up trying to get everyone to sleep, even though it's two in the morning and he's feeling exhausted. It's difficult to stay on task, too, when part of him is still back in the shed, pressed up against Chris. It's stupid, and he realizes he's on a bad course, but he can't seem to stop the tingling in his lips or the way he's looking forward to school on Monday.
He wonders how far they would have gone in the shed if they hadn't been interrupted. He sighs wistfully.
"Peter?" Laura asks, chewing on a lollypop.
Peter hums.
"How come you're not gonna be alpha?"
The wolf blinks, looking at his niece in surprise. "Because… I don't want to be." He says. He was never made for being an alpha anyway and if he gets out of here soon enough, his chances of being one are nil. It's part of the reason he's so eager to leave.
"Why not?" Laura asks.
That's a harder question to answer. Peter doesn't speak his thoughts, doesn't say that he hates Beacon Hills and that he doesn't want to get stuck taking care of all of them anyway. He can't even go to a damn party without them getting in the way, so he definitely doesn't want to be responsible for them all the time. His life's too restricted being around them. Hell, he can't even masturbate with them in the house. Even if he wasn't sharing a room with horrible Harry, they all have superhuman hearing.
It's stifling and he wants to go out and do more with his life than rot away in Beacon Hills.
Peter's saved from answering the question when he hears the front door open. Even from the second storey, he can smell injury and mountain ash. He urges the cubs to wait in the room and sidles out, staring down from the top of the staircase as the pack drags in Joshua, who's been shot. He's bleeding out and near death and Peter watches as Deaton hurries in after them.
"Uncle Peter?" Laura asks, appearing by him.
Peter mentally curses and swoops her up. "Come on, let's go back in the room." He says, hurrying back. He closes the door behind him and tries to keep the cubs distracted, thinking all the while that he ought to stay far away from Chris and the Argents.
Deaton's not much help and they end up having to move Scott to Derek's loft. He fades in and out, sick as a dog and getting worse as the days pass. Peter doesn't miss the panicked aroma emanating from Allison.
Everyone visits Scott frequently and tries to hunt down the thing in the meantime. They find it eventually and Peter's eyes widen when he realizes what it is. Allison takes it out with a silver arrow. It shrieks, burbling and whining until it dissolves into flesh and goo on the ground.
"What is it?" Derek says, staring at the organ soup.
"Shapeshifter." Peter says.
Everyone looks at him. He sighs, giving a brief explanation that feels unnecessary. Except for one bit, that has his stomach twisting uncomfortably.
"They always travel in pairs." Peter says. "And they can feed off a victim."
"What do you mean?" Allison asks. Chris is quiet beside her, glaring and holding his gun tightly.
"It's like a poison. They latch onto a certain life force and they feed from it. Someone strong. Noble. Powerful. Someone like-"
"Scott." Allison mutters in realization.
"Exactly."
They visit the wolf, who hasn't gotten any better, and Peter eyes the pack, wondering if there's a shapeshifter among them. It's not likely, but the creatures can avoid a wolf's senses. He wouldn't even notice if the pack got infiltrated.
Chris takes him home. When they have sex that night, it's rougher than usual. It's hard and fast and Peter's left feeling cold and used. He's not entirely averse to the feeling, but he doesn't like the way Chris leaves when it's over, and he stares at the wall, solitude falling around him like ash.
Peter's in Derek's loft, watching Scott with veiled concern. They've never really talked about Scott's turning. The bizarre relationship between them goes largely unacknowledged, but that doesn't stop Peter from feeling the connection. He turned Scott, so that bond's always going to be that much stronger. He feels guilty as he watches the teen convulse on the sofa. He's started having seizures now. Peter can smell how close he is to death.
Derek tries desperately to get him through it and Isaac's standing close by, providing as much assistance as he can. They don't have much use for Peter. Chris is at his side, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder.
The elevator squeaks along its hinges as it ascends. The werewolves perk up slightly, but their attention doesn't waver from Scott. People have been coming and going all week as it is and it's the evening, so more of the pack is bound to show up. The doors open and Peter glances up as a reflex. It should only last a second, long enough for him to take stock of the new arrivals before returning his attention to his beta-turned-alpha, but Stiles, Allison, and Malia are charging in covered in dirt and looking determined. The sheriff follows, shouldering a man in.
It's surreal watching Chris Argent get dragged into the room. He's filthy and emaciated, glassy eyes staring out from hollow features. Peter feels the hand on his shoulder leave and he stands frozen, brain flickering and faltering around the realization that pours over him.
One of the Chris's is a shapeshifter. Peter wishes, hopes, prays with everything he has that it's the one they're pulling into the room, but he sees the glare on Allison's face and the resolve in everyone's jaw. Peter looks back at the Chris he's spent months living with.
"You-" He starts, but he can't get anything else out. It makes sense now, how tired he's been. This thing's been feeding off of him. Using him. Peter feels nauseous. They'd made love this morning. This thing touched him. He feels dirty.
"You're gonna kill me now." Shapeshifter Chris says, watching them all. Fear trickles into his gaze, but he swallows it down, burying it under another emotion. He smirks. "Pity, I was having so much fun."
Allison holds up her arrow, finger twitching on the trigger, but she doesn't fire yet. "Why?" She asks, voice breaking. "Why my dad?"
"I caught him first." The shapeshifter shrugs. "Oh, but I'm glad it was him. When poor little Scott got sick, nobody suspected the hunter. Scott figured it out of course, when he caught me sneaking into his room, but he was too sick to talk by that point." Fake Chris grins. "But that wasn't even the best part." He says, turning to the eldest Hale. "You. Oh, you were fun."
Peter grits his teeth, stiffening when the shapeshifter rakes his eyes over Peter's form.
"I'd always heard about you – the terrifying Peter Hale. But you're really a big softy underneath it all. I mean, imagine my delight when I tapped into Chris' head and I saw all those memories. High school sweethearts you two were."
Peter clenches his jaw harder, knowing it's the first time anyone's learning of it. Not even Derek knew.
"You had a real Romeo and Juliet thing going." Fake Chris says. "And poor, pathetic little Peter. You're still so hung up on him. He left you. He moved on. He doesn't want you, but you still spread yourself so easily. Like a little whore, just desperate to feel like you're not just another piece of trash lying in the gutter. He wouldn't hesitate to kill you but you'll still take it up the ass just to feel like you're worth something."
There's a growl from behind him. Over Fake Chris' shoulder, Peter sees the pack's reflection in the window. There's pity in their faces. He doesn't want pity. He's not some pathetic, love-starved teen, he's a wolf, a former alpha, a predator. He's not an easy fuck. He's not an idiot. He's not a tragedy. He's a monster. He's the reason hunters exist, and he'll be damned if he's going to let this transform him into some pitiful, powerless wretch in their eyes.
Fuck the last year. Fuck the family he'd found. Fuck everything.
Peter digs his claws in, snarling ferociously as he rips through the fake Chris' lungs. He tears the shapeshifter to shreds, a blur of guts and gore that leaves him covered from head to toe. The creature dies in the middle of it, but Peter keeps going, ripping its whole structure into individual fibers that bubble and melt against the loft floor. It's a puddle of carnage by the end, with an engagement ring sitting in the middle. Peter rips his own band off and tosses is into the goop.
He huffs, glaring at the pack and daring them to feel bad for him. They stare at him in shock and horror and he feels dark satisfaction curl in his chest. He sees Chris slumped on the floor, watching him with wide eyes.
"Welcome back." He says, surprisingly calm. It's the feel of carnage on his hands, of revenge, that has him more relaxed than he ought to be. It satisfies something primal in him and he walks past the pack, past Allison and Malia, two daughters that feel like his but aren't. He leaves them all behind. He goes to an apartment he hasn't gotten rid of yet. He's still got another couple of months on the year-long lease and, though most of his stuff is at the Argent's, he has enough to get by. He at least has the shower.
He doesn't rinse the gore off immediately though. He just stomps around the rooms, angry and restless and twitching his fingers over bits of shapeshifter. He has enough control over himself not to smash anything, even though he wants to. He runs his hands through his hair and refuses to sit down. He had enough time sitting in the hospital for six years. He doesn't want that feeling again – sitting and stewing in anger. He wants to move. He wants to run.
Peter showers, getting the blood off finally. He doesn't feel any cleaner when he's done and he throws some sweats and a hoodie on from one of his lingering boxes of things. He goes outside and he runs. He heads in the opposite direction of the loft and the Argent's apartment. He goes in the direction of the town next to Beacon Hills, of places away from this crap. His baggage comes with him, even as he gets out of the city limits and into the neighbouring town. He carries it in his chest, creating grooves and hollows for it to fit in.
Sadness, anger, and emptiness war with each other, taking over anything remotely like happiness or fulfillment. He tastes ash and hears screams. He feels his skin sting with sweat from his exercise, but it feels like fire, like he's being cooked alive again. Everything hurts.