Authors Note: So at first I shipped Jackson and Stiles. Then Sterek. And now that Peter is back… I feel some Peter/Stiles coming on. It's creepy, it's wrong, but for some reason I dig it. There's not many fanfics about the two of them, but hopefully the next few episodes will throw some moments for them. Until then here's a quick story. Maybe a few chapters. I hope there are other Peter/Stiles fans out there or else I will feel like a pedophile!
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Stiles pressed his head back with what effort he could and stared up at the bleak night sky. He wondered how many hours it had been that he been sitting here, slumped up against a cold brick wall. His toes began to tingle with feeling, and Stiles deduced it must have only been a few minutes.
He wasn't quite sure why he tagged along tonight, it's not like he could do anything. Scott and Derek were sniffing, quite literally sniffing the ground in an effort to hunt down the kanima. And find it they did.
Of course, the weakest of the pack is always the first to go- Something about the laws of nature, or animal planet, or lion king. Somebody decided that the weakest goes down first and Jackson, or the kanima, agreed with that. It was less than seconds after spotting the reptilian skin. His tail whipped around and slashed the edges of Stiles back neck, lacing his blood with a paralyzing toxic.
After three times, Stiles was seriously hoping his body would start to develop a cure or antibodies. But he supposed that Kanima venom wasn't quite like the common cold and his body wouldn't build up immunity. Moments after the beast struck, Stiles found himself collapsed the ground, using the last of his feeling to push himself up into a sitting position. When he looked up, feeling all nerves and bodily connections flee his grasp, he saw the back of Derek and Scott sprinting away. They were hollering their battle cries of wolf howls; Signaling Erika and Boyd most likely. That or the nearly full moon was bringing out the animal in them and yelping like morons from the rooftop seemed to be the best solution.
And just like that left him there. Cold and alone and searching for the big dipper in the cloudy sky. He could almost see it, but there was a massive building in the way.
They'll come back. He told himself, thinking of Scott and Derek. They always come back. A little late, a little beat up, and a little oblivious to Stiles pain, save for the basic "You okay dude?"
Strangely, Stiles found it peaceful... Just sitting there. He only wished it was on a tropical beach or island and not 5 feet from a rotting dumpster filled with vermin cycling in and out of the holes. He could almost hear the rats fighting over food with the small beetles.
It was quiet despite the animal hallucinations. Stiles wasn't used to quiet. Part of him wanted to talk, to blather the silence away with pointless talking to himself. He wanted to tap his fingers against the ground, but the numbness in his hands reminded him of the impossibility. So instead he basked in the silence. He closed his eyes, letting the night air whisk up his nose and deeply exhale it out his mouth.
This was the part of the world he had forgotten- The part free of werewolves and girlfriend hunters and father fights. The part made of the silent and still beauty of the world. Had it not been for the Kanima venom racing through his veins, Stiles would have actually felt free and at peace.
Suddenly he felt a small tingling sensation burn at the edges of his fingertips. He assumed nothing more than regaining the nerves in his fingers, sighing at realizing he only had probably a hundredth of his body actually responding. It would be a long night, even when his furry buddies stopped their pointless chase and headed back.
Stiles looked down at his hands and was about to try and bend his fingers together, but saw a darkened beetle tapping it's miniscule feet over the edges of his nail. Stiles face curled inwards.
He hated bugs. He could stand snakes, he could stand bears, and he could even stand mangy and rabid dogs- thanks to his unique group of friends. But bugs were not one of those things he could tolerate. They crawled down his pants and nipped at him when he was a little boy. He still remembered his mom's laugh at his face in pure terror when he sat on an anthill and the tiny creature surrendered him, ready to sacrifice him to their ant god. He remembered screaming as a dragon fly swooped into his mouth one day and how he spent all day brushing his teeth with his fathers tooth paste and brush.
"Ugh. Gross." Stiles groaned as he tried to wiggle his fingers to throw the bug off. But the beetle latched on, refusing to let go. Stiles hand shook in short jerking motions, looking more like a selective seizure than bug flicking.
"Now, now" A voice cooed out from the darkness. "He's just trying to survive."
Stiles head attempted to turn rapidly around and search for the voice, but the first sharp turn created a load crack in his neck and the Kanima venom flowed through, slowing down his neck movements. Barely out of the corner of his eye, Stiles glimpsed the movement of a shadow.
"Really, isn't that what we're all just trying to do?" The voice remarked from the dingy light of the ally. The tone dripped in a mocking sarcasm, full of fake sympathy and understanding that wasn't masked by anything less than condescension. "We're all just trying to survive in this world."
Stiles began to recognize the voice. He had heard it before...In reality and in his nightmares.
He had heard it every night that voice as the events of that night replayed over and over in his mind in those waking moments before sleep overtook him, those precious moments of intensity where reality crept into dreams. He heard that voice, offering him a deal on the overly brightened field, lingering with claws dangling over Lydia's pale neck. He heard that voice, spitting harsh tones about Scott and Derek, spewing hatred over the name of family and pack. He heard that voice offer him the greatest gift- the bite. And every night since then he had seen the pouting lips inches from his flesh, words of persuasion just begging to clamp pearly fangs onto Stiles pasty skin. Every night he felt his heart blip when he said no and every night he heard the shock in that voice when he responded.
That voice was dead.
That voice was buried under a house, with flames having licked every inch of skin off. That voice was beaten by Derek and Scott, with minimal help from the hunters and Stiles. Yet here that voice was, ringing through the brisk night air with the same sickening and condescending tune.
"You don't look very pleased to see me…" It spoke, dripping with false sadness and disappointment.
Yes it was that voice. There was that voice
His figure emerged from the dark lined ally. Two hands stuffed in the oversized pockets of a navy buttoned up coat, done up precariously to his neck line. His footsteps clambered out with soft, but strongly audible in the silent night, clops. His head was tilted to the side ever so slightly and his hair was lightly slicked back on the top of his head, descending down into an array of unshaven scruff on his chin.
There was Peter Hale.
If Kanima poisoning hadn't been running rampant threw his veins, Stiles would have froze. He instinctively tried to kick his feet, to push himself away from the looming figure that toward above him. He desperately tried to push himself back towards the wall, but found no feeling and soon remembered the wall already pressed against his spine.
"You're…dead?" Stiles stammered out. Every zombie movie flashed through his head. His brain paused for a moment, contemplating if zombies existed. Obviously they did, one was standing in front of him. But he was free of rotting skin and looked like he had come out of a spa, not out of a decrepit house.
"And now I'm not." Peter responded, an arrogant grin growing on the edges of his face. "Funny, how that works."
Stiles sarcastic response instantly kicked in. "When most people die, they at least have the decency to stay dead."
"Unfortunately it was rather boring in the grave." The smile widened, sending shivers down Stiles spine. His eyes darted around frantically, searching for any sign of Derek and Scott. "Thank goodness for your sweet friend Lydia."
Stiles eyes immediately connected to the wolves at the mention of his precious crush. Lydia. Stiles thought gently in his mind, shoving any thoughts of rescue out his mind. "What the hell did you do to Lydia?" He asked, mustering up what confidence and intimidation he could. His beady brown eyes squinted at the man and he desperately wished that looks could kill. Although, killing this man seemed rather pointless.
Peter gave a slight chuckle. "Nothing. Rather, it was what she did for me. You see this" He gestured to his body with his hands, "Was all thanks to her."
Stiles let out a low growl, which only seemed to amuse Peter. The elder walked over to the teen, standing over him and looking down with a sickening expression.
"Her immunity was quite a brilliant little back up for me." He said coyly. Peter squatted down so that he was even level with Stiles, still collapsed up against a wall. "She is such a charming, precious little girl." He cocked his head to the side slightly with satisfaction as Stiles brow furrowed and glared intensely at the older man. "You should see the fantastic things running around in her mind."
"Stay away from her." Stiles responded fiercely. Part of him felt like adding please at the end, as if that would persuade the wolf at all. He didn't understand what Lydia had to do with any of this. And as much as curiosity rattled on his mind, he was too overcome with shock and anger to care.
"Or what?" Peter questioned, leaning forward and griping the edge of Stiles chin, thrusting it upwards with a cocky smile. Stiles attempted to shake his head free of the grip, but the pressure between the mans fingers was too great and instead Stiles head stayed there, locked still by Peters hands, staring into the depths of the mans eyes. Peter let out a casual sniff and his face fell in a façade of sadness "I see you still haven't accepted the bite."
If Stiles could have spit in Peter's eye he would have. "Obviously not- Or else I would be running around screaming at the moon with rabbit blood in my teeth and dealing with furballs and trying to manage a fur coat in the middle of summer."
"Oh yes, that sarcasm." Peter released his grip on Stiles, who flung his head backwards in spite, not quite expecting it to connect with the wall as harshly as it did. He winced at the pain. "How I did miss that sarcasm."
"Unfortunately it didn't miss you back."
Peter let out another loose chuckle as he pressed back on his heels and stood up. Stiles eyes watched him rise, his eye brows creased down the middle in frustration. Peter slowly circled Stiles collapsed body, looking down with a smirk.
"Aren't you even wondering how I came back?" Peter asked with widened eyes.
Stiles shook his head. Yes, curiosity was nipping at his tongue and the corners of his mind. But he knew it had to do with Lydia and paralyzed from the waist down was not how Stiles wanted to receive any information. "No. I've kind of just accepted everything that happens as werewolf mumbo jumbo magic."
"Ah, well that is a disappointment. Don't you even want to know why I came back though?" He eyed Stiles and felt the teen's heart beat rocket up.
Stiles used the remainder of his strength to look up the elder man and meet his gaze. "Come back to chase your wolf tail around a little more? Maybe kill a few innocent people? Oh, I know, maybe you'll finally dig up those bones you buried in the yard when you were a kid." The dog puns ran across his mind and he was spewing them out rapidly.
Peter only scoffed in reply, still staring at Stiles, who let out an exaggerated sigh. "I'm sure you're just going to tell me why you're back. That's what you bad guys do. I've seen enough movies to know you all just love to gossip and brag about your mastermind plans."
"I already told you, I'm not the bad guy." Peter remarked. "And I'd prefer if you didn't compare me to the villains in children shows."
"Well, then, fine." Stiles sassed back, emphasizing every ending the words. "Tell me Peter, why did you decide to rise from the grave? Missing the new episodes of teen mom already?"
Peters face let out a quick smile, which quickly dropped off of his face. The air suddenly became tense and Stiles swore it dropped several degrees. A cold wind sliced down the ally. "I came back for revenge."
Oh joy, more and more revenge. What a lovely circle of love this town has become. I suppose now it's not revenge for his family, but revenge against whoever killed him. Aw shit… that includes me.
Stiles eyes widened. Am I going to die?
Here. In a back ally torn apart like a bacon chew toy when I can't even feel my legs? I can only imagine the paper headlines. Boy eaten alive coated in animal slobber. Appeared defenseless- that or just really really weak. Stiles looked back up at the malicious look of insanity that lingered in the depths of Peter's eyes. Oh God. I'm really going to die.
As if on cue, reading the rampant thoughts in Stiles mind, Peter responded, "Relax Stiles. I told you I like you, I'm not going to kill you." Stiles let out a relieved sigh that had built up in his chest. "I do however, need to restore my pack."
The teens pulse skyrocketed and his mind immediately flipped to werewolves and packs. No, no, no, he's going to turn me. At that moment Stiles wondered which was worse, being turned or being killed. Being with Peter's pack or being human, but buried under the ground. He didn't want to be turned. Not back when Peter asked in the dingy light of the parking garage and not now.
Peter picked up on the frightened teens pulse, and the cringing facial expression was also a give away. "Calm down. I offered you the bite and you refused it." Stiles eyed Peter with suspicion. "I've learned from my mistake with Scott. You have to want it- at least Derek realizes that much with his newborn brats. But I can't just give the bite away either to any open palmed teen; they have to earn it, unlike what Derek is doing with his pack. Giving the gift away to mangy teens- It's pathetic. Really, it is."
Stiles swallowed hard. "So if you're not going to kill me or turn me," His breathing increased. It felt like a panic attack swelling in his stomach and throat. He pushed down the panic and fear, shoving it down to the pits of his stomach. "Then what do you want with me?"
"I'm glad you recognize that I'm here for you." Peter said with a tight expression. "So much has changed in the time that I've been away; A Kanima, more hunters, Derek's new pack. And yet I still find you left alone, defenseless and in the background of it all."
Stiles pressed his lips together tightly, refusing to give Peter any satisfaction of a response.
The elder continued to circle around Stiles sitting position, pacing against the cold floor, rotating from one side of Stiles to the other for what seemed like several minutes. "I still want you in my pack Stiles."
Stiles eyes squinted in harsh confusion. "But you just said-"That you wouldn't turn me…
"Yes, yes, I am perfectly aware of what I said." Peter said dismissively, shooing his hand in the air. "I won't turn you. But you will be in my pack." His eyes glinted with certainty at Stiles.
The question of why was poised on Stiles tongue. Why him? But he remembered a conversation he once had with Derek when the wolf offered him the bite, several weeks after his uncle did. Derek pointed out Stiles loyalty, his determination, and his fierce protective nature that was so important to a pack member. Of course, Stiles jokingly turned the offer down, ignoring Derek's face of raw seriousness at the question. Loyalty. Stiles thought of the implications of that word. He glanced back up at Peter. I could never be loyal to you.
"I once despised human pack members, even my own family. They're weak and generally worthless. But there's something different about you. You are the exception." His eyes narrowed, shrinking down to focus in on Stiles.
Stiles mouth was slightly opened, surprise riddled across all of his features. Quickly he tried to regain his composure. "Well, as convincing as this little conversation was, I don't feel particularly inclined to join you…At all…" Stiles said harshly. "In the slightest bit."
"I'm aware of that Stiles."
Stile expected the man to say something more but silence once again overcame the conversation. "I'd say it was nice to see you again and sorry for wasting your breath… but, no, it wasn't. Now hurry on your little wolfy way before the new big bad wolf comes."
"Oh they're not coming back." Peter responded smartly. "At least not for a while. They'll be chasing the slime of the Kanima and dodging hunter bullets for a while."
The gulp that escaped Stiles lips sounded loud in the stillness of the night.
"It's rather convenient, this Kanima venom, is it not?" Peter asked, not expecting an answer as he continued on. "I mean, you can't even move right now."
The wolf crouched down, inches from Stiles face and his icy finger gently tapped the boys heaving chest. Even through the cotton grey shirt, Stiles could feel the cold sting of his claw.
Not true, Stiles thought with angst, I can feel my pinky toe and wiggle my wrists.
But instead of that sarcastic response, he felt his brain drain of any witty response, too overcome by fear to mention anything more. "What… are you going to do?" Stiles muttered out. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth and his heart beat shot back up.
"Well, as you put it, some 'werewolf mumbo jumbo magic'" His fingers edged lightly on air quotes as he looked up, noting the full moon that hung glaring down in the night sky.
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Authors Note: Review please if you liked! If I get a decent amount I'll consider a full fledged story. If not I'll most likely just do 3 or 4 chapters. Thanks for reading!