Title: Life of the Pack – Integration
Chapter: prologue/12 (+epilogue) for this part
Author: lisapahud (loonie_lupin)
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters/pairing : Derek/Stiles, Scott/Allison, Lydia/Jackson for this part
Rating: PG
Summary: The Alphas Pack had come to Beacon Hills for a reason. Now it's time for Derek's pack to prove they can function together, to pass their tests because if they fail, the consequences will be terrible.
Note : Well, I've managed to finish this story by mid-May, as I had planned. As for the first part, I've got to reread through it before posting chapters, so there may be a day or two in between chapters, but I'll do the best I can.
As for the first story, most of it is told from Stiles POV, but there a few scenes that are from other characters' POV. I hope it won't throw anyone off...
Disclaimer: none of the characters belong to me. They are the property of their creators
Life of the Pack – integration
Prologue
Chris was waiting impatiently for his friend to show up. He had just arrived home from school and found the house completely empty, which was why he had immediately phoned Peter, knowing that, with his speed, he had already reached his own house, and asked him to come by for a while. They didn't exactly have an infinite amount of occasions to fraternize outside of school, as it would be too dangerous if his father ever got wind of it, but since the man had left a note, informing his son he was out of town for a few day, and his sister was having a sleepover at a friend's, he wanted to make sure to seize the occasion.
He was startled out of his musing when he saw a pair of feet entering his field of vision and sent Peter a glare.
"You could have used the door! I told you there was no one else here but me," Chris chided, rolling his eyes in exasperation at the boy's antics.
"What can I say, it's a habit," Peter said, smirking. "Besides, you left your window wide open. How could I not take that as an invitation?"
Peter sat down on the chair at the desk, easily, as if he was in his own home. Chris had never been able to understand the way the other boy had always managed to appear right at his place in the Argent house. He shouldn't have. He should have been tiptoeing around, afraid of being caught. He was a werewolf after all, and in a house full hunters. Now, of course, Chris wouldn't do anything against him and Kate was way too young to be a real threat for a born teenage werewolf, even if she showed an uncanny aptitude for the job, but Gerard was a real menace, one that Peter didn't seem all that afraid of.
"So, you have the house all to yourself for the week-end and the very first thing you do is call little old me," Peter said, ruffling distractedly through the books thrown in a mess on the desk. "I feel honored."
He winked with a leer. That was Peter alright, always flirting with everyone. Of course, Chris was perfectly aware he didn't mean anything by it, except that the werewolf seemed unable to last without making any innuendo, but it didn't really bother him. Besides, he was fairly sure that Peter would stop if he ever, seriously, asked him to. However, he usually preferred either ignoring him or playing along. It was a fun fame, as long as it stayed a game, and Peter didn't put any intent behind it.
"Maybe I've just really missed having you all to myself. You should be worried," Chris answered, choosing the playing along option this time around. "Maybe, I've got something planned."
Peter chuckled, always appreciating when someone answered with a witty remark. It was funnier that way and he could usually count of Chris for it, which was one of the reasons they got along so well. It was just too bad they could have a normal friendship.
However, Peter's parents had told him all about Gerard Argent and his ways and, while they had absolutely no problem with Chris, they wanted Peter to show some caution around the elder Argent, knowing he was bound not to take too kindly on a werewolf sniffling around his son, no matter how innocently.
"And what, exactly, is it that you've got planned?" Peter asked smoothly, getting up with all the grace of a feline – and Chris almost snorted out loud, knowing Peter wouldn't appreciate the comparison one bit – and stalking to Chris, where he was sitting cross-legged on his bed.
He sank down at his side and looked at him leering.
Chris smiled gently and his eyes twinkled as he let himself fall on his back, looking at his friend.
"Tell me about your family life, about pack life," he asked softly, not for the first time.
Peter's eyes softened. As always, he could always hear the longing in Chris' voice, the dream-like quality of the question, as he wanted to know what it was that made a pack, a sure sign that Gerard hadn't gotten a hold of his mind and brainwashed him into thinking that all werewolves were mindless beasts.
No, every single times Chris inquired about the life of his pack, Peter could hear the genuine curiosity behind the words, he could almost feel his awe whenever Peter told him all about it, about what made it so special and he knew that it was Chris' way to escape the reality of his family life. Peter wasn't stupid and, sometimes, he could smell the hurt on Chris, smell the injuries on his body, never too deep because Gerard was way too careful for that. However, he knew about some of the things that went down in that house and it killed him not to be able to help his friend but even his parents knew there was nothing they could do.
So Peter simply talked, spinning tales of a beautiful family life, of being free to chose his own path but still part of a whole, a cohesive unit, which members always protected each other and were protected in return and helped Chris escape for a few hours, giving him ways to dream about it.
"I wish you could be part of the pack," Peter said gently, once he was finished talking, lying on his side, on the bed, his head supported by his elbow and looking at Chris whose eyes were closed.
They weren't touching, but they were close enough that Chris could feel the warmth of Peter's body close by. He smiled at the words, mainly because he too wished it could be so, wished he could be part of that group. The Hales were wonderful people and he yearned to be accepted among them, far away from Gerard, but he knew it would never be possible.
"If I were the Alpha, I would make you part of the pack and fuck your dad," Peter said, once again, more forcefully this time.
"Yes," Chris said softly. "If my father wasn't there…"
Suddenly, the décor changed completely and Chris found himself armed, in front the burnt-down Hale house, the night Peter was killed. He saw the Alpha take his sister inside the house and the violence of the kill and then the beast – because Peter couldn't be considered a man anymore, not in this form, not when he had snapped – turned his head to him and his red eyes bored into him as he advanced menacingly and…
Chris opened his eyes abruptly, a sob caught in his throat, which he made efforts to repress as he didn't want to wake his wife again. He found himself concentrating on the ceiling, tears he refused to let fall in his eyes, still shaken by the dream – no, the mix of memories, because he did remember that day, both these days he had just witnessed again. As he was trying to calm himself down, in the complete silence of his room, broken only by his uneven breathing, he perceived a small noise coming from the ground floor of the house.
Since Victoria was still sleeping soundly at his side, for which he was very grateful, he knew it had to be Allison, as the alarm would have sounded should an intruder have broken into the house. Chris glanced at the clock standing on his bed-table and saw it was almost three in the morning. He frowned, wondering what she was doing up at this hour of the night, and slipped soundlessly out of bed, jolting the mattress as little as possible. He padded out of the room and down the stairs, following the small noises to the kitchen where he saw his daughter making herself a cup of hot chocolate.
"Can't sleep?" he asked her and winced internally when she visibly startled, as he had thought she would have heard him come down and hadn't meant to frighten her.
"Dad!" she exclaimed, her had coming automatically to her chest, resting on her racing heart. "You scared me."
"Sorry," he apologized, getting a mug out of the kitchen cabinet for himself and Allison immediately started on another drink. "What's wrong?"
Allison shook her head.
"Nothing. Just feeling a bit restless, I guess. I'm fine dad, promise. What about you? Don't tell me I woke you up? I tried to make sure not to make too much noise."
He sighed as he didn't want to bother her with an account of his nightmares, especially considering the subject. He knew it was a bit stupid, but he didn't feel like telling his little girl that he had woken up, terrified, by a dream. Still, the little noises she had made wouldn't have stopped him from going straight back to sleep if his mind hadn't been much too wired, his heart trying to race out of his chest, the images of Peter's murderous glare still running behind his eyelids.
"Weird dream," he answered, opting for a half-truth. "I couldn't get back to sleep."
"What kind?" she asked, curious, as she had never known her dad to let his subconscious mind prevent him from getting the rest he needed.
"Just an old memory coming back," he told her, shaking his head to make her understand he didn't feel like talking about it right now and she let it drop, eyes going back to her chocolate.
Yes, just an old memory of a time when things had been easier, one of the memory which explained best why he had never really tried to stop his daughter from being part of the pack. After all, if she could have what he had, at her age, longed for, who was he to try and stop her? She deserved it.