*Author's note: If you have read Happenstance, the first half of this chapter will be familiar because I used the same prompt I created for Happenstance. This fic will be very different though and I hope you all enjoy.
Natural
Chapter 1
-Shifting Gears-
"You were in Eichen, Peter…" Stiles is giving him a look. He should know what that look means yet his brain latches onto the statement.
Eichen House.
Peter's annoyed expression turns into a cold mask. He's gotta give it to Stiles. The kid doesn't flinch at his glare. "I was. I wonder who put me there?" Of course, it's a rhetorical question since they're both very aware of how and why Peter was left to rot in Eichen House.
The thought seems to trigger more of Peter's true memories.
The torture under his temporary cellmate, Valack, the scum guards, all the miserable time spent in that small, dingy cell. He'd kept patient through it all, knowing he'd have to remain alert in order to catch his chance when the time came.
Well, he'd lost his mind from time to time, but who could blame him and he always came back to himself after his lapses.
Peter remembers the lights going out and the alarms ringing painfully in his ears. The door to his cell had swung open and he'd been able to simply walk out. The hallway was in total chaos, the smell of fear and blood already pungent in the air as the other prisoners attacked each other or wasted time paying the guards back for their hospitality.
He'd ignored them all, going right for the exit instead; swiftly removing anyone stupid enough to get in his way and moving on. He understood the other inmates' motivations but revenge wouldn't mean much if you weren't out to enjoy the aftermath.
His breath caught as his mind focused with perfect clarity to the moment right before he'd escaped his own level. Another prisoner had come bulldozing out of their cell, grappling onto Peter. The crazed inmate had gone right for Peter's shoulder, growling and gnawing on it like a dog with a bone; or more accurately a wolf.
Peter had responded by plunging a clawed hand under the attacker's ribs then driving upwards to the heart. The heart in his claws made its last beat in short order. Air rushed into Peter's lungs as he felt the Alpha power course through him once more.
After all the scheming and plotting, after all the failures, Peter had gotten what he'd desired the most by pure happenstance.
It's strange really, Peter had had no idea that Eichen was housing an actual Alpha Werewolf. Though admittedly, given the now dead body pressing against Peter's chest, the Alpha couldn't have been in a very good condition. He dropped the body at his feet, the wet squelch going unheard amidst the chaos.
It wasn't his family's Power but there was no way Peter was going to let anyone take this away from him.
It had taken all of Peter's considerable self-control to remain quiet, to keep from roaring in triumph and move towards freedom. He was able to reach the upper levels with little resistance; clearly someone else was keeping Eichen's guards busy. It wasn't hard to guess who.
Once he'd made it out of the building Peter had ran right to the forest. He'd made his way into town after cleaning up as much as he could of the blood and gore in a stream. All the evidence and scents washed conveniently away.
Peter had been in the middle of appropriating a vehicle when the Ghost Riders came for him. It happened too quickly; one minute he was dragging a Rider off of his horse, only to have another shoot Peter in the back.
Afterwards, nothing had been more important than waiting for that stupid train. Until he'd seen Stiles, that is.
And now Stiles had snapped him out of one nightmare to lead him into another.
Peter struggled to keep himself calm as he rose from the bench and took in the decrepit dusty train station. Beacon Hills hadn't had a functional train station in decades.
It would take some serious power to influence his mind to such an extent. It made Peter want to roar in anger that his mind had been played with again. He needed to keep at least some cards to himself though, so he tried to keep his mask of cool indifference. Of course with Stiles here to watch him his efforts were almost pointless.
When Stiles let out a strangled sort of squawk, Peter knew the boy had caught the flash of red in his eyes.
"Oh my God! Seriously Peter!? It's only been three months since we broke Lydia out of Eichen! How the hell are you an Alpha?" Stiles splutters and gesticulates with his hands wildly. If the situation weren't so dire he'd be lording this over the kid.
Instead he tuts, "Pure luck, I swear." He raises an eyebrow at Stiles' disbelieving snort. "Did you know there was an Alpha in Eichen? I certainly didn't, as I wasn't exactly allowed to stroll around." Peter's very aware of how bitter he sounds, and he's rather satisfied to see Stiles wilt with guilt for a moment.
"Imagine my surprise when I'm attacked on my way out -thank you for the distraction by the way- and quite suddenly-" Peter's eyes glow red. He shrugs his shoulders. Stiles can take it or leave it; there are other things for them to talk about. Like what the hell is going on for instance.
Surprisingly enough, Stiles doesn't pester Peter about how he became an Alpha again. Instead they focus on how he and Stiles ended up in this place and by focus, Peter means they argue.
As always, Stiles is nauseatingly confident that there's a way out. Despite Peter's explanation that the Riders are an unstoppable supernatural force and that the whole purpose of this place is to keep them here. For what exactly? Peter's not sure. Yet.
Seeing Stiles' frantic and unflinching search for escape is catching though. As annoying as it is, Peter finds himself scanning their surroundings for clues.
Cooler heads do prevail it seems, since Peter quickly spots someone doing a rather poor job of spying on them. Seems whoever it is, has been stuck here for some time. A thin teenager with messy hair and dark circles under his eyes is focused on Stiles, who's still trying to walk out the door, only to pop up on the other side of the room.
And of course Stiles just charges forward, confronting the other boy without hesitation. It gives Peter the opportunity to flank the spying youth; they've always worked so well together despite Stiles always being so contrary on the matter.
Peter can't help but enjoy the cocky smirk Stiles gives them when the stranger states they couldn't possibly be capable of accomplishing this supposed escape plan.
The revelation of the second tunnel leaves Peter slightly embarrassed that he hadn't seen it. At least he can take comfort in the fact that Stiles obviously feels the same way. They both make a good show of being unphased by it, of course.
He's not afraid of going into the dark foreboding tunnel, not really. It's just his brain keeps telling him he should be. But once Stiles pushes Peter through the threshold, it's easy to see the deception. He also makes it obvious that he's taking pleasure in the fact that he has to pull Stiles into the new tunnel.
Of course, it's all for nothing. Peter makes it clear that he's not really impressed about finding another dead end.
It's an easy enough dig that it finally gets the kid, whose name they still don't know, talking about the exit.
Once the plan is laid out, it's Peter's turn for optimism. It isn't so much as he thinks it's a good idea but he wants to see if it'll work.
Now, if Stiles would quit being a bleeding heart and let the kid take the jump. Peter could actually start coming up with something that could actually succeed.
It's a shame when just as both he and Stiles thought it would work that the boy is stopped by the barrier and burns before their eyes. It's not a pretty sight; nor smell.
The Riders pass without any problems, though. What really puzzles Peter however is the fact that the Riders tried to throw the human off at all. If only the Riders could pass through the barrier, why fight so hard to keep them away from there?
Stiles turns to him, obviously upset and angry. Peter understands; that had been their one shot at escape apparently. The odds aren't in their favour.
"You knew he was going to die." Peter's not sure why Stiles is voicing things they both know. He makes sure his look says as much.
The tone is off too, but there's something about Stiles' that's changed and it's been frustrating Peter to no end. There are the changes he would expect from not having seen the teen for some time. Stiles is slightly taller, his hair has grown out again and all in all it's obvious that the teen is on the cusp of full adulthood. All things Peter expected. There had also been a part -a small, valiantly buried deep down part- of Peter that had been looking forward to this change.
Still, there's something more than just the general distress this sort of situation warranted.
"Well, now we know." An idea has been forming in his head for a while but he needs to go about this the right way or he'll be forced to leave Stiles behind. It's not that he isn't willing to do just that but having Stiles on his side would likely increase their chances of success.
"Know what? That we're stuck here until my friends remember me and come up with a way to save us?" The teen lets out a frustrated huff as he leans on a nearby pillar.
Peter almost snorts at how ridiculous that statement is. He can understand how Stiles would think that for himself, but does he really think that Peter would wait for that ragtag band of teenage idiots to save him?
As if they would even consider saving Peter, anyway. Besides, the only one of them smart enough to figure this out is stuck here with him.
"Actually, I was going to suggest we jump out once the Riders have made their next delivery." He suggests this casually, like he's talking about going for a stroll. There's no guarantee this will work of course, but it'll help if Peter at least looks and sounds like he believes his own bullshit.
"Excuse me? We? Did you start forgetting again or did the dude disintegrating in mid-air not make an impression on you?" Stiles speaks to him with the usual scorn and sarcasm that makes Peter sort of glad for that little bit of normality. He's also a little disappointed that the teen hasn't figured it out yet.
"Yes, we. Don't be ridiculous, he was just a human." Peter tries again, wondering if it'll be enough for his plan to become evident.
Stiles throws his hands up, another noise of frustration and the words that come after have the unmistakable tang of bitterness. Stiles reeks of negative emotions which is not a smell Peter finds enjoyable on the other. "And so am I, damn it! Remember poor fleshy, breakable, human Stiles!" Stiles becomes almost violent in his agitation, harshly smacking his own chest while he yells at Peter.
Peter frowns; that had been a rather unexpected response. Something significant really had happened while he'd been out of the picture. "Now, is it your memory that's slipping Stiles?" He steps into the teen's space, eyes brightly glowing red in the dark tunnel.
There's a long silence. He can see a myriad of expressions flitting through those big brown eyes before Stiles takes a single step back.
Peter can't help wondering what Stiles will look like with glowing blue eyes.
"My.. my friends will remember me, they'll come for me." The teen stammers with false bravado. It's a flimsy lie and Peter thinks he'll have to be cruel to get Stiles to see the truth of things.
"How?" He growls, letting some of his own frustration slip out. "We might as well be dead! It's what the Riders do! We've been forgotten, erased without a trace. The only way your precious friends are gonna figure this out, is if you're there to help them!"
"Lydia." Stiles offers desperately.
"Unless I've missed something extraordinary, her powers are still unreliable and she usually needed your guidance." Peter tries to mollify his tone a little. He can see he won't have much more to do to get Stiles on board. "You say I've been here for at least three months; no one -myself included- had a clue. How long do you think you've been here for Stiles? How many times do you think we've had this very conversation?"
Silence meets Peter's questions. He steps back, to give Stiles a bit more space but not so far that he's out of reach.
Peter won't admit it but he is terrified that he could be right. That they've been stuck here in this holding pen with all the other catatonic humans for so long that Beacon Hills is gone. Who knows how long they've truly been here for? For all they know time could very well be meaningless here.
There's also a very good chance that even if Peter's plan works and they do not happen to die out right, by the time they'll have healed there could be no one left. It was still better than waiting here only to fade into the ether or worse; they could be stuck in this place indefinitely.
"That gate is meant for supernatural creatures, Stiles, I won't tell you it won't hurt but we'll heal." Peter offers one more bit of encouragement.
"What if I reject the Bite?" Stiles counters. Peter isn't surprised by the way the kid's heart is rabbiting.
"First off, you won't, I've always believed you would make a great wolf," Peter ignores Stiles' snort. "On the exceedingly low chance that you reject it… you and I both know what our chances are if we stay here. Who knows what this place will do to us if we just sit and wait." Is Peter surprised by this little bit of honesty he's offering? Yes. Does he regret it? Judging by the look Stiles gives him, Peter is going to say no.
"I let you bite me and you stick around to help us. That means all of my friends." Peter beams despite the fact that Stiles is making terms, mostly because that means Stiles knows Peter's won.
Peter's got terms of his own of course but those can wait.
"Stop with the creeper face! I mean it, Peter, there's gonna be rules and if this doesn't work and I die, then you have to promise you'll get out and save the others, save my dad." The teen's heartbeat is steady again, Stiles won't budge on this. Peter's always secretly enjoyed that stubborn streak.
If Stiles is agreeing to take the Bite though, Peter will agree to those terms despite how stupid he thinks Stiles is being. He nods in agreement.
"No, say it Peter. I need to hear you promise me." Stiles stands his ground yet he's not coming across as challenging. He'll make a fine wolf, Peter thinks with a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
"I promise that if you take the Bite, I'll help your friends whether you live or die." Peter reaches for Stiles' right hand so he can bring the wrist up once he gets the go ahead, just like the last time. "But Stiles, you won't die."
Stiles allows Peter to come closer, he doesn't visibly flinch when Peter's fangs drop but his heart beat picks back up momentarily. It's a good show of how much Stiles has grown that it slows down to a calm steady rhythm with what seems to be little effort.
"Okay, we have a deal." Stiles swallows thickly then practically shoves his wrist into Peter's mouth. "Do it."
"I don't feel any different." Stiles doesn't even stop his pacing from one side of the tunnel to the other.
Peter groans, this is the fourth time Stiles has said that since Peter bit him; which was roughly five minutes ago. "I've told you Stiles, the Bite is different for everyone. You've always struck me as a late bloomer."
Stiles' indignant squawk is a welcome distraction. Peter's sure he should have been able to tell right away but there's something about this place that mutes his senses. There's one way he could make sure right now, but Stiles isn't going to like it of course.
Peter takes a resigned breath. "Stiles come here." The teen stops and looks at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting. "Please." The word feels torn out of his throat - Stiles is his beta now, he shouldn't have to say please. But it's Stiles so he indulges him, for now.
"Wow, did that hurt as much as it sounded?" The teen smirks before walking casually towards Peter. Clearly they are testing their new boundaries already. Which is fine.
"Give me your hand." Peter extends his own, "Please." Thankfully instead of the witty retort he's been expecting, Stiles complies but his mouth can never stay quiet for long.
"I don't think biting me twice is gonna make it better Peter." There's a nervous chuckle. Humor and sarcasm, even poor attempts like these, had always been Stiles fallback.
Peter shakes his head with an indulging smile. "No Stiles, I'm going to break your finger." Stiles tries to snatch his hand back which Peter had been expecting, so the Alpha easily holds the hand back. "This place is messing with my finer senses; so if the Bite took, you'll heal. If it didn't take, you won't." Peter shrugs. They've already discussed that.
There's a hesitant pause from Stiles, then the teen deflates with a glare. Though there's no real heat to it. "I hate it so much when you make sense."
Peter doesn't give Stiles time to think any more about it, quickly taking the other's index finger then snapping it cleanly. All the while keeping his gaze locked with Stiles'.
Right as the snap rings out in the silent tunnel, Stiles yelps at the pain.
Peter sighs in relief a moment later as brown eyes glow blue. The beta's pained noise turning into a growl. "You're such an ass, Peter."
They watch quietly as Stiles' finger heals shortly after that rather accurate pronouncement. "Huh. So that worked."
"Yes, Stiles. Eloquent as ever, of course." Peter rolls his eyes, of course it worked.
"Stop gloating. It's not attractive." Stiles deadpans while he studies his hand, a frown of concentration creasing his forehead then Peter watches as the once human hands gain claws. "That's so freaking weird, I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
"Keep practicing that. It would be better if you could have some form of control over your shift when the Riders come back." Peter almost wishes they could have more time like this, almost. He's got just about everything he wants now; he's an Alpha, he has a pack, sure it's just him and Stiles now, but there's so much potential there. Unfortunately they're stuck here with no means of making use of any of it.
Such a bleak and witless future isn't something Peter can abide so if he needs to risk his and Stiles' life to escape, then so be it.
Stiles fanged smile droops, human features taking place once more. No doubt his beta has just had similar thoughts. A resolute expression ages the teens face. "Right."
Peter spends the next hour teaching Stiles as much about using his werewolf abilities as he can; thankfully the kid is a motivated learner on top of all his own experiences with the supernatural. More evidence that Peter had been right all along that Stiles would take to being a werewolf like he'd been born into it.
When the Ghost Riders return, a clap of thunder announces their imminent arrival. Peter is still seventy percent sure they'll survive.
Peter quickly pulls Stiles behind a pillar just as the Riders come through the barrier. Once all the Riders have passed them and gone into the station the sounds of screaming people and repeated gunfire echoes back into their tunnel.
"Guess they didn't appreciate the last escape attempt." Stiles mumbles darkly.
Peter nods in agreement. It explains why the Riders are being excessively aggressive during this drop off. "Which is why you'll have to hold on extra tight, Stiles." Peter takes hold of Stiles' shoulders to make sure his Beta is listening. "Do not let go, no matter what they do, dig your claws in if you have to."
Stiles wrinkles his nose at the idea, but agrees.
"We'll wait until most of the Riders have gone through, then jump on the last two. You go first." Peter directs Stiles, who's looking at Peter in confusion, to a pillar that's closer to the portal; the less time the Riders have to react, the better. At the last minute Peter pauses by one of the benches on the platform.
The gunshots have stopped and Peter can hear the horses coming their way. "Hurry up Stiles! You can do this!" He pushes the new werewolf away, who finally snaps out of it and does as Peter says.
Quickly, Peter pushes a stray bench onto the track before running to join Stiles. It should slow the Riders down some, maybe even cause some confusion.
When the first Rider stops in front of the bench, his mount whinnying in complaint at the obstacle, Peter and Stiles are as ready as they'll ever be.
They share a grim look, this is their best chance to escape. Peter tries to smile, to look confident. It's as much for Stiles' benefit as his own, mostly because this is the sort of stunt that goes against all of Peter's self-preservation instincts. But he can't stay here another minute.
Stiles grabs Peter's arm. The Riders are leaving.
This is it.
The landing is rougher than Peter anticipated but he's immensely grateful that he hadn't been set alight again. It's a distressing and painful experience nonetheless.
The rider he'd been digging his claws into, along with the horse, vanished from underneath him shortly after entering the portal. Peter is then launched out of the exit at high velocity; a little too much like a human cannon ball for his liking.
Peter barely has the time to mentally prepare himself. Only managing to raise his right arm to protect his head from what is sure to be a hard landing. His impact into a poorly placed palm tree causes a sickening series of crunches in Peter's arm, shoulder and clavicle. He then falls several feet before hitting the ground flat on his face. The air feels like it's been punched out of Peter's lungs, he struggles to steady his breathing.
The shock is severe enough that the alpha has to lie there for a few moments to catch his breath. He uses the time to focus past the pain, to listen for clues as to where he's landed. There are no palms in the Preserve after all… There's also the distinct sound of running water not too far away.
Given the general sounds of a large city late at night, Peter doubts that they are anywhere near Beacon Hills. It complicates the situation to an unknown degree. Thankfully it's late enough that the area is deserted of people; their arrival wasn't exactly subtle.
Stiles! Peter remembers his beta making it through the portal shortly before he had. He should be able to feel Stiles if he had already arrived like Peter would assume. Yet he feels nothing. The idea that he's possibly lost Stiles makes his stomach drop unexpectedly. For a brief moment, Peter almost lets the panic take over before he's able to shut out his emotions. It won't do him or Stiles any favors.
Peter tries to get himself up once he's calm and focused. He grimaces at the effort it requires. A quick assessment of what he feels tells him his right radius and ulna are broken, the shoulder is probably shattered to pieces, and the arm is definitely dislocated. His clavicle has also snapped in at least three places. He holds back a groan, his right arm will be useless for longer than he is comfortable with. Even as an Alpha, it could take some time to set and heal all that.
He isn't yet fully upright when a crackle in the air grabs his attention. The smell of ozone tinged with sulfur floods his sensitive nose seconds after. Ten feet in front of Peter, the now familiar green swirling vortex rips the air apart and spits Stiles out much the same way it had done with Peter. He feels relief wash over him that he hasn't lost his beta.
Unfortunately for Stiles, he pitches towards the ground rather than a tree. Peter winces in sympathy.
A strangled shout is all the younger werewolf is able to do before crashing into the dirt head first. There's an explosion of earth and grass, some of which rains down on Peter. He really hopes Stiles hasn't broken his neck, as a werewolf he'd more than likely survive but it wouldn't be a pleasant experience to say the least.
Peter runs as fast as he can manage towards the crash site, relieved when he can see Stiles moving. Very slowly, the beta pushes himself out of the small crater he's made on wobbly arms and legs.
The younger 'wolf is hacking and coughing up chunks of dirt when Peter reaches him. Clumps of blood soaked debris are glued down the left side of Stiles' face from an impressive strip of road rash which spans from his hairline to his jaw. His left eye is swollen shut.
"You look terrible." Peter's tone is chastising, his smirk falters in a failed attempt to hide his relief that Stiles is alive. It won't take too long for him to heal either; his eye is already almost back to normal. In a few minutes you wouldn't even see the scar the road rash would have otherwise left. Peter lets the corners of lips pull into a self satisfied smile while he offers his beta his good hand. It's thanks to Peter after all that Stiles is free from the Riders and soon to be in excellent health.
Stiles looks at him with an appraising scowl, hands braced on his knees. He spits out another glob of dirt. "Like you can say any better! You look like roadkill." Stiles takes the offered hand to pull himself upright, he looks around in a slight daze. His eyes turn blue, an instinctual response to searching in the dark.
Peter looks down at himself while Stiles stretches out in a series of pops and alpha sighs heavily. Blood has dribbled down the front of his coat, leaving splotches and runs of moist rusty brown. He reaches up with his good hand to find a damp spot on his temple. The cut underneath has already healed of course. The blood and dirt however, wouldn't be so quick to disappear. To top it off, his jacket is completely torn at the shoulder where his right arm hangs limply.
"Yes, well, at least we didn't get rotisseried." Peter says sourly, he liked this coat. "There's water nearby, lets go wash up before the locals call the cops." He points off towards the sound then taps his ear.
He watches with amusement as Stiles canted his head to the side with a very serious look on his face. When the younger werewolf hears what he's looking for, his face splits into a wide smile. "This is so cool." Stiles looks at Peter with his bright blue eyes. Peter smiles back without thinking too much about it.
The light hearted moment fades quickly though when Stiles registers that their surroundings aren't quite right. He starts to look around frantically, spinning on himself a few times in ever increasing panic.
"Peter! Where the fuck did you land us?!" Stiles growls out accusingly, his panic now turning to anger. The beta has almost completely shifted as rage threatens to overwhelm him.
Peter growls back, eyes flashing red in warning. This is not the time or place for Stiles to lose control. He takes a few quick steps, stopping inches from Stiles face. "I got us out! And you've already healed from an otherwise lethal experience. You're welcome!" He understands where Stiles' anger is coming from but he's not about to take this sort of shit from his own beta. It doesn't make Stiles back down completely but he does get a hold of himself.
Stiles takes a deep breath, brown eyes cast down. He coughs out, eyes not quite meeting Peter's. "You're right. Thanks"
Peter arches an eyebrow in surprise. Stiles has indeed grown up some if he was willing to admit that, albeit begrudgingly.
Their dynamic is new and still shaky, Stiles is still getting a handle on being a werewolf. At least he has proven to be more cooperative than Peter had expected. He can let something like this slide and move on.
"Use your senses, Stiles. What can you figure out?" Peter asks the question while he makes his own observations. He walks at a leisurely pace towards the water, motioning for the Stiles to follow.
Stiles jogs up beside Peter and slows to match him. "It stinks." He says with a pinched face and gags a little.
"Most cities do." Peter replies smoothly. He has a few ideas of where they could be. "You'll get used to it."
They make it pass a small hill topped with a few bushes that had been blocking their view. Peter immediately takes a relieved breath at the familiar sight. A small man-made lake, it's large signature fountain at the center. The vast cityscape twinkling behind it.
"You know where we are?" Stiles asks with a frown. It's obvious the beta still has no clue.
"Echo Park. We landed in Echo Park." Peter says incredulously. It's not exactly the best place but it could have been worse. This is familiar territory for Peter at least.
"We're in L.A.!" Stiles whoops with excitement. "We can get back in a few hours!" He elbows Peter, who doesn't look nearly as pleased.
"Stiles." Peter sighs, things are never that easy for either of them. "We can't just hop on a bus to Beacon Hills."
"Why the fuck not?" Stiles pulls himself at his full height instantly on the defensive. Like the fact that he now has a couple inches on Peter would do anything.
"Well, for starters, we have no money." Peter lifts a hand to stop Stiles from interrupting him. "Our lives are more than likely still erased. We have no means to prove we are who we say we are." He pauses to let the full implications sink in. Stiles looks like he's chewing a lemon when he thinks about it.
Peter isn't done. "And while yes, I can boost us a car to get back, it doesn't solve the aforementioned problems. Among a few more pressing ones." He gestures to his torn and blood spattered jacket, the way his arm is still dangling uselessly."We are not in a condition to go walking around L.A. without drawing attention to ourselves. It's a miracle no one's noticed us as it is." Peter then waves a hand over Stiles to further his point. The beta's wounds have healed but he's still covered in dirt and blood.
There's a heavy pause. "Yeah ok, I get it. We look like we just stepped out of a horror movie. What's your plan then? You always seem to have one." Stiles crosses his arms, one foot tapping impatiently.
"Why Stiles, I hadn't realized you'd noticed. I'm flattered." Peter smirks. It's true that he's flattered, getting a rise out of Stiles will always be more fun.
"Whatever, Creeper Wolf." Stiles brushes him off to march down towards the edge of the water. At least the beta looks to make sure that the coast is clear as he walks.
Peter follows but makes a detour to a nearby garbage can; tossing his ruined coat. At least his shirt is still in passable condition. It's warm enough out that he won't look out of place without the extra layers. He meets Stiles at the water's edge. The beta is shaking the debris out his clothes and hair. Peter kneels down on the small embankment, with his good hand he cups some of the water to wash the blood and earth off of his face.
"Need a hand?" Stiles asks once he's kneeled down next to Peter.
"I'll need your assistance to set some bones and pop the shoulder back in. It'll speed things up." Peter takes a sip of water and spits it right back out, it tastes just as disgusting as he remembers. "I'll be waiting over there." He motions back to a bench he passed on his way. "You need to dunk your head to get all that out." Peter is not exactly looking forward to having all those bones set.
Stiles sniffs at the water, his nose wrinkles. He sighs in defeat. It's the only way for him to clean up properly.
"Sure, be right there." Stiles looks at Peter's arm with a deep frown. It's an odd feeling for Peter to have the younger man look at him with concern. He simply nods and makes his way to the bench with his back straight and his stride sure. It hurts but Peter is a prideful creature to a fault.
It takes a few minutes for Stiles to wash up. He jogs towards Peter while towelling his hair with his flannel shirt.
"You ready for this Peter?" Stiles asks like he's not quite sure if Peter will be able to handle it. The beta looks confident but he reeks of anxiety.
"Just don't fuck it up." Peter says very seriously. He's not at all reassured by Stiles posturing.
It's painful. Stiles doesn't hesitate once and Peter is certain his beta got a fair amount of sadistic enjoyment out of it. He does a good job though, Stiles seems to have learned a lot of new things during Peters absence. It makes Peter a little more regretful about not giving him the bite the first time he'd offered it.
"There's a few packs in L.A." Peter begins to explain his plan as they watch the first signs of dawn in the distance. "Even if they don't remember me, I know a few who'd be willing to give us a place to stay for a few days. Maybe even some papers. With the right story, of course."
"Oh yeah? Doesn't sound like much of a plan… What sort of story?" Stiles chews on his nails, a nervous habit Peter needs to break him out of quickly.
"Hunters." Peter states obviously. "It's not uncommon. That fact that they'll have never heard of us will mean we aren't the sort to cause trouble."
Stiles snorts at the last part. "While that sort of makes sense, it feels like we're wasting time. Why not just tell the truth? Isn't it in everyone's best interest to stop The Hunt."
"If we tell the truth, they'll think we're crazy. Believe it or not, I'd rather not cause trouble with the L.A. packs." Peter rolls his shoulder, it's not perfect yet, but at least he can use it again. He stands, looking for some landmarks. It doesn't take long for Peter to spot what he's looking for. "Let's go. There's a pack not too far from here. We'll start there."
"What's wrong?" Stiles' sudden question breaks Peter's concentration. He realizes he'd been frowning. They're standing across from the house Peter remembers from his youthful summers in L.A. The cars parked around it are close to what he had expected. The problem is that he can't smell any werewolves in the area. Everyone in that house is human, the entire neighbourhood is human. Even if this pack had moved, which they hadn't last he'd checked, there should still have been some residual scents. But there was absolutely nothing.
Peter explains as much, making Stiles frown in return. "Still wanna try the house?" He looks around, sniffing the air. Peter has been coaching Stiles on using his werewolf senses in the busy streets of L.A.
"No." He can hear and smell the whole block, there are no werewolves here. Not for a very long time.
They've begun to attract attention. Peter can spot a slender shape behind the curtains of the house they'd been subtly investigating. "We should find a payphone."
Stiles gives him a dubious look. "You wanna make a bunch of collect calls?"
Peter smiles sharply. "No, I'm going to use the money from the wallet you lifted three blocks ago." He chuckles at Stiles affronted look.
"How? That was damn near perfect!" Stiles protests in a hush. It's early morning now and the city is waking up quickly.
"You're lucky he was so drunk." Peter sighs at Stiles' crestfallen look. Of all the things the boy could be upset about right now. "It wasn't terrible but you need more practice." Peter has a feeling they're both going to need to sharpen those sorts of skills if they want to do more than just survive. He has every intention of doing so.
"Right. Like you can do any better." Stiles challenges rashly.
"Watch and learn." Peter walks past Stiles in the direction they had come from. Once he's a few feet ahead, Peter waves Stiles' stolen wallet casually in the air.
"Hey! How the-" Stiles growls out, running right for Peter and snatching the tan leather back. Peter lets him have it, laughing at the petulant look.
"You still have a lot to learn about me Stiles."
Peter slams the payphone receiver for the sixth time, it shatters in his grip. Anger briefly overwhelms him and he rips the cord out completely.
"Woah there big guy." Stiles interrupts from the side of the booth. He's visibly agitated despite his light tone. Understandable given that every single number either of them have tried over the past hour has turned into a dead end.
Peter steadies his breathing, refusing to let the worry and panic get to him. He's noticed a few things during their walk around the city. Things that make him question his sanity. He turns to study Stiles properly, they haven't spoken to each other a whole lot, both too caught up in trying to solve their ever growing problem.
"You've noticed too." Stiles says darkly.
Peter nods. "We're about a decade behind where we should be and there are no traces of anyone even slightly related to the supernatural."
Author's note:
When I wrote Happenstance, I actually had several versions for different crossovers. This fic turned into my go to writing project when my muse was being difficult with other stories. I decided to post this after some encouragement from my beta, I hope you all enjoyed it :)
A few more notes: this will not be a slow burn for Peter/Stiles and updates will likely be slow. I do have most of chapter 2 complete and will try to post soon.