There were the happy days, long stretches of nothing and everything spent in the woods with his best friend. It was blissful and it was all he ever wanted to know. Chris was barely a teenager but he thought this was what he wanted for the rest of his life. They lounged beside the lake after hours of chasing each other around the forest, legs dangling in the water. Most times they talked, mere idle chit chat between boys but other days were full of comforting silence and the sounds of the Californian woods.
"Chris?"
"Mm."
"You'll like me forever, right?"
Chris propped himself up on his elbows, shielding his eyes against the sun as he stared down at his best friend. Peter's eyes were closed, but he still managed to look worried. This, in turn, worried Chris. Peter was the snarky one of the two, this wasn't like him.
"Pete, what's this about?"
"Nothing." he admitted, worrying his lip between his teeth, "But will you?"
Chris chuckled, aiming a weak punch at Peter's shoulder. "Always, Peter. You know that."
Peter's face relaxed and tossed a wry smile at Chris.
"Yeah, I guess I do."

Peter was getting sicker. Chris didn't know what was wrong and Peter would always dodge around questions. It didn't stop Chris from pushing it, though. They were in Peter's room, lying head to toe on his bed. Peter coughed which set Chris' internal alarm bells off. He sat up and smoothed a palm against Peter's forehead, worry settling in his gut as he felt it, clammy and hot.
"Pete, you're burning up."
Peter swatted away his hand before replacing it with his own.
"Come on, I'm fine."
"No you're not! You think I haven't noticed? You always have a fever, a headache, and you stay at home a lot more now. I don't get why you're hiding stuff from me!"
Peter sat up sharply.
"We're fifteen, Chris! We're not kids any more. We don't have to live in each other's pockets", he threw himself back down on his bed, frustrated "what I don't get is why you have to know everything all the time! I wish you'd back off."
Fist clenched, Chris threw his legs over the edge of the bed, his heel colliding with Peter's shoulder.
"Fine" he said, his jaw taunt "I will." and with that he left, not bothering to shut the door on his way out.

Two months passed and they still hadn't spoken. It was nearing Peter's sixteenth birthday, and it was killing Chris that he couldn't even celebrate it.
The digital clock on his desk told him it had gone 2am. He wasn't sure why he woke up, and it made him tense to think about it but whatever it was had chilled him. He was about to flip over and try to fall back to sleep, but a scrabbling at his window made him freeze.
He reached under his bed for the short, thick plank he kept for emergencies, fingers tightening around the splintered wood. Warily he stepped forward, reaching ahead of himself to slowly flip the latch and shove the window open. Chris bit back a scream as a dirt covered hand clawed its way in, fingers clamping on the frame of the window. The scream quickly changed to a curse as Peter's head bobbed in to view.

"Fuck, Peter!"
His friend sniggered as he pulled himself in. "Hey."
"Hey!? Pete, you can't just show up at my house at", he looked over his shoulder "at ten-past-two in the morning, covered in dirt and just say 'hey'".
Peter wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, still grinning. "Hey."
Chris glared at him, before sighing and tossing the plank back under the bed. "What do you want?"
"You don't speak to me for months, and that's all you say?"
"You didn't make much effort to come by to see me, either."
Peter's grin dropped. "Yeah, I...there's been some stuff going on. Family stuff. It's why I'm here, actually."
Chris threw a questioning glance at his friend.
"I need some place to lay low," he continued "just for a day or two."
"There's no way my dad would let you."
"Maybe your dad doesn't need to know?" Peter wrung his hands, and Chris couldn't help but notice that he hadn't clipped his nails in a while. He sighed again, before lying down on his bed.
"Fine, but take a shower first." He shut his eyes, and shifted to the side to make things less uncomfortable. The bed dipped beside him and his eyes snapped open again as he felt the heat of his best friend press in to his side.
"Mmm, I'll shower in the morning" he drawled, voice heavy.

Chris couldn't move, even more so when Peter threw a leg around his knees and an arm around his chest.
"Chris?"
Chris swallowed. "Yeah, Pete?"
"I can tell you anything, right?"
Chris was surprised he could hear him over the blood pounding in his ears. Turning his head to this side, he said "always, Peter. You know that."
Peter snored softly in his ear. Chris let out a breath, and settled in to go to sleep.
Outside his still open window, a wolf howled for the second time that night.

The house was almost empty but not quiet, and definitely not still. Chris' family were all out. "Hunting trip" his father told him, and his disappointment was almost tangible when Chris opted out of it.

Frankly, this was much better than anything his father could have shown him.

Peter's skin was hot, hotter than anything Chris had ever known. He could feel the heat on his mouth, his neck, his chest. He could feel it within himself and he wondered how much more he could take. Peter's breath was ragged as he pulled Chris' head to face him. His eyes were intense, even they burned with a fierceness and Chris felt pinned. Peter stroked Chris' cheekbones with the pads of his thumbs as he stared at his best friend. He was in control here, he always was, but Chris could feel a question fighting behind his lips.

"What is it, Pete." he pressed, locking eyes with the boy above him. His eyes were cool where Peter's were hot, his voice soothing where Peter's was frantic. Peter inhaled and drew Chris closer.
"Do you love me."
The question was blunt, yet cutting. Chris froze and Peter drew back, panicked.
"Oh God", he cursed "shit, Chris, I'm sorry, I-"
Chris surged forward, now taking Peter's face in his own hands.
"Hey, hey, hey. It's alright, Pete." he pulled his friend in, arms clasped around his back and chin resting on his shoulder. The gesture was returned as Peter snaked his own arms around Chris.
"I need to know." he whispered in to his neck. "I need to know, Chris."
Chris paused a moment longer, before reaching a hand up to smooth Peter's hair.
"Always, Peter." he murmured. "You know that.

The arms around him loosened and space was put between them but only to allow Peter to crush their lips together. He nipped at Chris' bottom lip and drew his nails along his back, an almost feral sound ripping from his throat. He pushed forward, driving Chris towards the ground as they rutted against each other.
Chris almost couldn't bear it, his fingers knotting in Peter's hair. The heat was scorching, almost painful and he could scarcely think. Suddenly, Peter froze. Chris hissed in retaliation.
"What are y-" his words were cut off as Peter clamped his hand roughly over his mouth.
Peter seemed to be staring past the wood of his door, his entire body tensed. Without warning he threw himself into the wall, pressing back into the shadows of Chris' room.

The door flung open, slamming against the opposite wall. Chris' father stood between the frames, silhouetted and threatening against the harsh light of the hallway. He strode straight past his son and grabbed Peter roughly by the hair at his neck. He tugged him up and Peter's feet bat against his calves.
"If you come near my son again", he hissed, breath hot and sour "I'll kill you."
He flung Peter at the open door, watching with a smug satisfaction as his shoulder whacked against the frame and popped out of his socket. Chris felt sick. His best friend threw one look at him before turning roughly on his heel and running.
Gerard turned on his son, who was dangerously close to throwing up on the laminated wooden flooring of his bedroom. He stared up with horror and did nothing but wince as his father's nails dug in to his shoulders.

"You. are an Argent." he hissed, as if that was all that needed to be said, before releasing him and storming out the way he came. Chris didn't even flinch as the door was slammed. He didn't even register the wounded screech of a wild animal that tore in to the stillness of the night outside.

Years trickled by and Chris grew, learned day by day the history of his family and the reality that closely followed. What's more, he learned about Beacon Hills' own werewolf problem.
He learned about Peter.
He almost buckled as years of realisation crashed down on him; the sicknesses, the secrets, the late nights. He was in his twenties before he confronted him.
Chris stood outside the Hale house. His stomach twisted as he stared at the pristine white building that hid the creatures he was raised to hate. Fingers resting on the butt of the pistol he tucked into his trousers, Chris made his way to the front door.
"Christopher."
He stalled, the voice colder than it had once been, but still familiar.
"Peter."
"I hope you're not planning on using that here, Christopher."
He turned slowly, scarcely hiding his sharp intake of breath as he took in his former best friend. Peter was lithe where Chris had bulked out and was taller than Chris remembered. "Only if I need to."
Peter smirked, taking one step forward which Chris matched with one back. The smirk fell at that, and Peter's expression hardened.
"Why are you here?"
Chris hadn't prepared for that, and he blindly searched for words.
"I...I needed to know. Why you-"
"Why I never told you?" Peter stepped forward again, quicker this time. Chris stood his ground. "Why I never told you what I am?"
He received a steely gaze in return.
"Why ruin a good thing?"
Chris was incredulous. "A good thing? Pete, I was your best friend. You could have told me anything!"

Peter started at the old pet name. "Not this. If you knew, you would have gone straight to your father. Don't say you wouldn't have", he interjected, hand raised at the sign of an interruption. "And this would have happened much sooner. I could have told you when I was fifteen. I could have told you when you were seventeen, when you said you..." he trailed off, running his fingers through his hair which, Chris noted, still hung just above his shoulders.
"When I told you I loved you." Peter's hand stilled.
"Yeah. I could have told you then, and everything would have changed."
"Everything has changed."
"Then why should I have told you?! If I told you then, I would have lost you then! That's so much worse than losing you now!"
Chris didn't miss the catch in his old friend's throat. "Peter..."
But Peter had glazed over again, the icy undertone returning to his voice.
"No. No, Christopher. You have your family, and I have mine. The line is there and we can't...won't cross it." he turned his back and began to walk to his house before thinking better of it, and getting down on all fours.
Chris' hand automatically tightened around the gun.

More time went by and the past seemed to rot and fade. Chris moved around and met Victoria and before long, he was a father. Allison was perfect but no matter how hard he tried, Chris feared for her life every day. His sister told him to lighten up, his wife assured him she would be tough and strong just like he was, but Chris knew what was out there and he wanted to keep her from them for as long as he could. Year by year she grew, and Chris knew how blessed he was. She was smart, beautiful and had a knack for archery, whether her father liked it or not. Not long before Allison's seventeenth birthday, the Argents wound up back in Beacon Hills on the trail of the alpha. The truth was smoothed over and she fussed like a normal teenager, but had no choice but to move.

"Dad, you think we could settle down just once?"
Chris chuckled. "You know, I lived here when I was your age with your grandfather. You'll like it here, Allison. Nice school, nice neighbourhood." he frowned "There are a few things to look out for, but your old dad will take care of them."
She shoved him playfully. "Yeah, whatever. I've got to unpack. Big day tomorrow." she quipped, rolling her eyes.
Ruffling her hair, Chris turned to walk out the door. He froze, his eyes following a black mass as it scrambled off the roof.
"Dad?"

He jumped, before throwing an easy grin at his daughter. "It's nothing, sweetheart. Get a good night's sleep, I'll drive you tomorrow." Shutting the door, Chris steeled himself before pounding down the stairs. Victoria stepped out from the dining room.
"I'm going out", he announced, "following up on something."
"Where?"
He didn't see sense in lying to her. "The Hale house."
She frowned, her eyes becoming sharper than ever. "That's nothing but a husk, Chris. There are no werewolves left there."
He opened the door and stepped out without answering.

He couldn't protect her. He tried, but he couldn't protect her. He had little doubt that Scott McCall meant well, but he couldn't let a werewolf near his daughter. He knew what they were capable of. Now, he couldn't even protect her from her own family.
Stiles' words ran through his head as his foot squeezed the gas pedal.

"Derek said you guys had a code. I guess no-one ever breaks it."
"Never."
"What if someone does?"
"Someone like who?"
"Your sister."

It all made sense. No-one ever knew who started that fire, yet everyone was so quick to pin it on Chris and his family. And with Kate showing up recently...the pieces slotted in to place, and it burned him from the inside.
She had betrayed him, betrayed the code. Caused innocent humans to die and werewolves with no links with murder to suffer. Try as he might, Chris couldn't stop himself from thinking about him. He knew what became of him, had heard that he was little more than a shell thanks to what his sister had done. Chris didn't know what made him angrier. He pulled up sharply, a little distance away from the Hale house. He had visited it more times than he would care to admit but each time it never got any better. He moved quicker, trained ear catching the whistling of an arrow and the crack of a gunshot. He was only a few metres away when he saw Kate pull a gun on Scott. He called out.

"Kate! I know what you did. Put the gun down."
Her eyes flickered quickly to the charred building and back, guilt evident.
"I did what I was told to do."
They continued to argue, but he could see she was not going to back down so he aimed his own gun a few centimetres from her shoulder and fired a warning shot. He threw a levelled threat at her and she was about to retaliate before the door creaked open. The air grew thick and stagnant.
"What is it?" Allison cried, her voice shaking.
Scott tensed, his eyes trained on the door to the house. "It's the alpha."
A snarl ripped through the air, and Chris had no time to react before he was tossed off his feet. His head hit the ground sharply, and for a few seconds before he passed out, he could have sworn he saw him.

When he came to, the entire scene had dramatically changed. Kate was gone, everyone was scattered and smoke was rising from a crumpled heap that lay writhing in the leaves. Scott and Allison were a little off embracing and Chris couldn't help but smile at that a little, however wistfully. Scott broke off from Allison as Derek stumbled towards the heap, yelling and pleading with the young Hale. Derek seemed to ignore him as he bore down on the alpha wolf.
Then Chris heard it. Heard something that made his knees buckle and his throat burn.
Peter's voice. It came from beneath Derek, from within the mass of smouldering flesh. His daughter rushed to him and buried her head in his chest, but he barely had the strength to support himself never mind her. He wanted to cry out as Derek raised his arm, claws drawn and poised but he could only groan as they swiped down, slashing Peter's throat.

Minutes went by, and he ushered Allison in to the car, saying something about Kate's body. He felt weak as he stumbled over to the corpse. Dropping down to his knees, Chris couldn't stop himself from placing a hand on Peter's forehead. He ignored the burnt skin, ignored the blood now congealing around his neck. He only saw his best friend as he was; beautiful, wise and powerful. In one swift motion, he pulled Peter to his chest, cradling his head so it didn't loll back. Somewhere, deeply buried in his past he heard a voice, airy, warm and young, full of the light and life of the long days spent in the woods.
"You'll like me forever, right?"
Christopher Argent let himself cry and he shook, still holding his best friend close to himself.
"Always, Peter. You know that."