Title: The wakeful trump of doom must thunder through the deep
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Milton
Warnings: AUish future!fic; I haven't seen any of season 3; talk of violence and murder
Pairings: none
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 210
Point of view: third
Prompt: Author's choice, any, any. I would appreciate something dark, though.
"I'm so tired
I must get up for air
But I can't find it
What's up or what's down out here
I'm caught in your undertow
Caught in your undertow"
"I need your help," Stiles says, wishing he knew anyone else to ask.
"Do you really?" Peter asks, setting down his book. He looks delighted and Stiles wants to stalk out, find another way.
There is no other way.
"They went after my dad, Peter," Stiles says, letting only a little of the cold fire burning deep inside peek through. "They went after my dad and I need them to never do that again."
"Why not go to Derek?" Peter steeples his fingers and looks up at Stiles through his lashes. It'd be funny, if Stiles weren't still so angry. But if Peter could ever pull off the innocent act, it was before the fire.
"I need a killer," Stiles says. "They hurt my dad and they need to die."
Derek's no killer, and Stiles doesn't want to turn him into one. But Peter, whoever he was before – he's exactly what Stiles needs now.
"Have a seat, Stiles," Peter says sprawling back across the couch, "and tell me what you need."
There will be going no back after this, but Dad's still in the hospital, and there is nothing Stiles won't do to keep him safe.
He sits beside Peter, meets Peter's gaze without hesitation, and starts talking.