Peter knew something was off even before his hand rested on the doorknob of his own apartment. Peter's eyes closed as he breathed in deeply through his nose. Immediately, he was hit with a familiar scent. It was sharper than usual, and Peter could practically taste the anxiety and horror from the teen inside. The knob turned silently and the werewolf slipped inside.

"How did you find my apartment?" He asked mildly.

Peter wasn't concerned about his safety just yet. The teen smelled too anxious to be a threat. For now. The teen froze in his pacing as Peter sat down on the couch. The werewolf shed his overcoat and placed it on the table in front of him.

"You-you said you had an apartment downtown. Wasn't hard to-to figure out," he gasped.

Peter's head tilted as he finally looked up to study the Stilinski boy's eyes.

"Stiles? Or the Nogitsune?" He questioned.

"It's me. I swear. Peter- I-"

The boy's heart rate seemed to sky rocket and he stumbled backwards. Peter was on his feet instantly, catching Stiles's wrist and pulling him forwards. Now that he was closer, Peter could see the thin sheen of sweat covering Stiles's skin. His eyes were unfocused as he looked at Peter.

"Stiles. Stiles, calm down."

"They're dead. They're- dead."

"Who's dead?" Peter frowned.

So far as he knew, no one was dead yet. Sure, Isaac had been hurt, but no one had died.

"Everyone!"

Peter's frown deepened as he felt the boy's heart skip a few beats.

"Stiles, you have to calm down."

The sharp tang of anxiety only grew stronger at his words. Peter tugged the boy even closer, pressing his forehead against Stiles's.

"Listen to me!"

"They're gonna-gonna-"

"Stiles!" Peter yelled.

His hand moved from his wrist to Stiles's neck, cupping the back of it tightly. The hazel eyes seemed to focus for a few moments and then the panic began to creep back in.

Without another thought, Peter tilted Stiles's head back and captured the teen's lips with his own. Stiles went tense against him, but Peter didn't pull away yet. He kept listening to the boy's heart rate. Once it slowed to a reasonable rate, he pulled back slightly. The hazel eyes were clear again, narrowed in confusion. Peter tightened his grip on the back of Stiles's neck and smirked.

"Peter? What was that for?"

"You were panicking," the older man shrugged.

"How did you know that would work?"

"I didn't."

Stiles nodded. Peter studied him again, watching the expressions flit across the boy's face. Suddenly, a smirk appeared and Peter was sent sprawling over the back of the couch. The werewolf groaned as he pushed himself up.

The dark circles under the hazel eyes seemed much more prominent. Stiles's head tilted slightly and Peter's own heart skipped a beat.

"You should have known better, Peter."

"Stiles?"

One of his hands disappeared into his jacket pocket and Peter immediately frowned at the purple powder he pulled out. Instantly, Peter recognized it as wolfsbane.

"Stiles, don't."

The Nogistune simply smirked and blew the wolfsbane in Peter's face.

"You shouldn't trust a fox," Peter heard before he lost consciousness.