"S...so you're not going to kill me?"
As soon as the words had slipped from my mouth I knew it was a mistake, Peter halting his actions in favor of turning back to face me. I was used to my mouth's lack of a filter getting myself into trouble, sure, but this? This took the cake.
"Oh, God..." a managed weakly, taking a step back. Can I make it if I run? As soon as the thought appeared on it's own in my mind I had to choke back an ill-timed snort of grim amusement; yeah let's try to outrun a werewolf. Emphasis on wolf. And even if I, somehow in all the world's luck, did manage to make it out, what then? Run through the darkened town or, oh better yet, the woods? Yeah let's have 'chase Stiles through the dark creepy woods fun time' game; yeah, I don't think so.
I began backing up slowly as I eyed the non-human in front of me, steadily growing more and more uneasy as Peter prowled towards me.
"Don't you understand yet? I'm not the bad guy here," Peter spoke up, his expression twisting into one of confusion and something else; almost hurt, as if my unspoken accusation of him was so irrational.
The bloodied body of Lydia flashed in my mind, and my next words slipped out all on their own, my voice, while fearful, still holding the malice I felt towards the other. "You turn into a monster with red eyes and fangs, and you're not the bad guy here?" Oh great mouth, just go ahead and turn against me. Sass the psychopathic werewolf some more why don't you? Hey maybe on my epitaph they can say something witty about my mouth being the death of me. That is if they can find my body. Might just end up in two pieces in the woods, bet my dad really wouldn't be happy to find me out then- my mind immediately began rambling in fear, while on the outside my mouth slammed shut into a thin line. I didn't dare to move, or look away from the Alpha in front of me, Peter remaining still in a thoughtful silence.
"I like you Stiles," Peter finally replied.
"Oh my..." I breathed out immediately, shoulders slumping in relief; he wouldn't say something like that if he was planning to kill me, right? ...Right?
"Since you've helped me, I'm going to give you something in return." I saw his eyes flick over me once, as if double checking a thought, then, "Do you want the bite?"
It caught me off guard; at best I had been expecting to be turned free, or, at the very least, a head start, but the bite? And the way he offered it up, so non-chalant?
"W...what?" I managed in a small voice, staring at him at wide eyes, afraid I had misheard him, a swirl of emotions surging through me at the proposition.
"Do you want. The bite," Peter repeated, slower, as if speaking to an idiot; granted, I probably looked like one, mouth gaping open halfway in a numb shock.
"If it doesn't kill you," he paused, before quickly adding, "and it could, you'd become like us." Peter seemed to hold himself a little higher as he spoke, something not lost on me even in my state of shock.
"Like you?" I managed, eyes flicking over his face, searching for a lie, a sign of this all being a trick.
"Yes; a werewolf. Would you like me to draw you a picture?" he sighed exasperatedly, patience obviously growing thin.
Well now, there was no need for sass.
Exhaling deeply I glanced off to the side, thousands of scenarios running through my mind, though my gaze quickly zoomed back to him as he took a step closer. Wavering slightly, I held my ground, not going to show just how much the other intimidated me. He can smell your fear a small, annoying part of my mind piped up, making me swallow dryly at the realization.
"That first night in the woods I took Scott because I needed a new pack; that could have easily been you. You'd be every bit as powerful as him. No more standing by his side, watching him become stronger, and quicker; more popular. Watching him get the girl. You'd be equals, maybe more." As Peter spoke I could feel my breath becoming shallower, suddenly all of the past few weeks' events racing through my mind; like broken bits of movies they came in flashes, though suddenly instead of Scott being the center of attention, having to deal with the little furry problem, it was me. The popularity and talent on the team, being, as Peter had said, stronger, quicker, better. And all of the instances where Allison and Scott were making puppy eyes at each other, that could have been Lydia and I...
Peter leaned forward gently, as if approaching a wary animal versus a teenager; a gentle, yet firm, grip on my wrist tugged it upwards and to the side of his face.
"Yes or no?" He asked, arching a brow, his face turning to breathe softly against my arm; even through my shirt I could feel the warm puffs of air, noticing how calm it was compared to my shallow gasps. A moment of silence passed, my brain somehow managing to be blank and running a mile a minute; I didn't care how Peter could smell my fear, or hear the weak little pants my breathing had been reduced to, or the madman's tempo of a heartbeat. No, my mind was still caught up in the Alpha's words; to have that power, to no longer be the weak link. No more getting slammed up against walls or being forced the flail ungracefully off the the side as werewolves decided to having a pissing match. My eyes flicked over his face, swallowing dryly. I could do it, I could say yes and have all that power, all that strength, no longer be the awkward little ADHD kid who was eternally reduced to sitting on the bench at games.
Peter stared at me for what seemed like forever, then, as if reading something from my eyes, he turned his head, fangs elongating before my eyes, a hair's breath away from sinking into my wrist.
Perhaps it was then, in a split second, that it all came crashing down, the realization that while I would have power, yes, but it would come with a price. I would be a fanged little monster, one that Peter could control. I wouldn't be safe to be around, constantly a danger of losing control around those I cared for, in danger of losing me.
Yanking my arm back came as an instinct; glancing conflictedly at it I drew it back to my side, breathing coming heavily, my gaze flitting up to stare at Peter. The man, the monster, drew back slowly from his pose, turning to stare at me with rage; his anger was quickly masked behind a cooler exterior, though his eyes still seemed to glower at me.
"I don't want to be like you," I managed, voice shaking.
"Do you know what I heard just then?" Peter asked, voice crisp, though face expressionless. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the words I. Don't. Want." He spoke accusingly, and I couldn't help but to glance off the the side. Looking back up to him my mouth twitched open slightly, though the rebuttal, the refusal I was looking for never came; for the first time in a long time I had been struck silent.
"You may believe that you are telling me the truth but you are lying to yourself. Goodbye Stiles." Peter snapped out quickly before he turned away, not bothering to give me a moment to respond as he moved to get into his car.
My mouth opened involuntarily, a small, choked "W-wait," escaping. The small word seemed to surprise both of us, Peter pausing as he climbed into his car, while I was quick to clamp my lips shut, eyes going wide.
When Peter turned to face me, it was with a small smirk in place, a cocky, almost I-told-you-so aura around the man. The Alpha leaned against the side of his car, arms crossed. "What was that?" he asked in fake obliviousness, both of us well aware he had heard just perfectly.
I swallowed dryly, hands opening and closing in anxiety, ignoring how warped keys dug into the clammy skin. "Y-yes," I managed, paper dry tongue darting out in an attempt to wet my lips, out of more nervous habit than actual purpose.
"Yes what?" Peter asked, and, despite my fear I could feel my expression twitch into a small irritated scowl. I breathed out heavily, then,
"Th...the bite. Do it," I spoke, trying to keep my voice calm, though failed as it wavered on the second half, all the while trying to ignore how Peter's smug look had grown. The Alpha moved forward fluidly, arm reaching for mine again; I met him halfway, holding my arm up weakly for him to take, not resisting as he tugged it up again to his jaw for a second time.
"Just remember, there are no take-backs, Stiles," he tutted softly, then, before I was able to register what had been said, pain blossomed from my wrist, Peter's fangs digging in deep.
Gasping, I gripped my forearm tightly, as if hoping the non-bitten arm's hold could somehow hold back the pain. My eyes watched the blood pooled down my wrist in an detached manner, my white dress shirt quickly staining a dark crimson. Stumbling weakly I came close to collapsing, only Peter's firm grip on my wrist still holding me up.
I was pulled forward, gasping and wheezing weakly as I could feel almost a liquid fire begin to slowly crawl up my arm, racing and jabbing at the inside of my veins as it went. I managed to become distracted from the overwhelming pain only when lips brushed against my ear, and,
"If you make it, come find me," Peter hissed, no, commanded of me, then dropped me unceremoniously to the garage floor.
My head hit the concrete, hard, and darkness came over me, finally allowing me to slip into the sweet, pain-free asylum of unconciousness.
So, small little drabble that had been rolling around in my head while working on my next ROTG fic; because, yes, it is the one scene that everyone in the Teen Wolf fandom cant resist including in some fic, somewhere, eventually.
I dunno, may continue from here, mainly was just to vent feels, may turn into ship later asdfhgakldshfls no clue. We'll see.
Also, (putting it here since I don't want to disrupt the beginning with just a small unrelated sentence) Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me
-Shido