Peter ran into the parking lot in an attempt to chase the men, only to watch them driving away quickly. He didn't really know why he chased after them. They obviously weren't a threat, injured and running away. It was just the fact that they were in the same room as Stiles after having nearly killed him, and the fact that he smelled the tall one's scent all around Stiles. It made him desperately want to tear all of them limb from limb. Again, he didn't know why he had that reaction. He thought he had gotten all his unnecessary aggression out of his system. All he could think was it was a matter of territory. Of pack and family and friends; things anyone would get defensive about. Despite not knowing why he was feeling so irate, that didn't stop him from feeling helpless and useless for not being able to chase them down, even more so for not being there for Stiles.

Here the kid is, going through a bunch of shit that shouldn't be his problem for the pure love of them all, getting attacked all the time, helping no matter what the task, no matter the danger, now he was going through shock and where was He when Stiles needed him? Checking in with Derek that the books had been collected successfully, a pointless call, one he could have made inside, but no. He hated being in hospitals. It was stuffy and he needed some air. So now he felt like total and utter crap. He wanted to collapse right there in the parking lot, but he wouldn't.

He wanted to get back to his current temporary ward and he started walking back, suddenly conscious of how scared and stressed Stiles must be all on his own in a big hospital, with no one he knew except the lovely Miss. McCall, who was gorgeous and a pleasure forever and always, but was also extremely busy, even too busy to nervously keep an eye on Peter like a farmer watching a wolf hang around a sheep corral, which he had grow accustom to her doing around Stiles. She certainly had no time to hold Stiles' hand and calm him warmly, even if it would keep his condition from progressing, or even calm him out of possible health concerns, because that was the way it was because people needed healing.

That often seemed to be how it was when it came to Stiles or his problems. Every other problem big or small came before him and his needs were thrown aside. Peter had thought about it before, but this was the first time it had bothered him this much. Or maybe he was just stringing out things to bother him in his sudden depression. Whatever it turned out to be he figured it could only make him feel better to get out of his head and coddle Stiles to the best of his ability, at least until Sheriff Stilinski got there and took over. And the first thing he saw when he returned his attention to his surroundings was the teenage boy in question, looking at him expectantly, almost worried he'd done something stupid that would cause more trouble. Peter gave him a soft look as he approached and gave the young man a one armed hug, which earned him a suspicious but slightly less tense Stiles. 'Yay!' Peter thought to himself congratulatorily.

"Is my dad going to have to arrest you for murder?" He kind of wanted to joke, but thought better of it, realizing how fast Stiles' heart was racing.

"Don't worry, I didn't catch them. Although, I wish I had." The boy sighed.

"You'd just regret it later, Peter." Peter answer quickly but softly.

"I wouldn't mind regretting it, Stiles." Even Peter winced at the bite he put on the boy's nickname, and then he winced again at Stiles' heart jumping at that same bite. "Sorry… You're right. I should know better than to be so spiteful." It was insincere but he'd be damned if it didn't sound like the most sincere thing he'd ever said.

"I don't own a farm, Peter, I don't need that much bullshit." Peter sighed.

"I was trying to be comforting." He tried to rub Stiles' shoulder, but Stiles grabbed his arm.

"I'm fine, dude! I'd much rather be home, winding down. Can't you just take me home while we can still catch my dad?" Peter smiled sympathetically but it looked insincere to Stiles- as did most of his expressions.

"I'm sorry Stiles; I'm not taking the risk of pissing off your dad. I dislike being shot. Once he gets here, and they tell him you're reaction is just a natural response and the best thing for you is to rest in a safe environment, then you can go home. Until then, don't worry, I'm not leaving your side." Stiles sighed and got up.

"You're going to have to." Peter's face scrunched up in concern and confusion.

"Why is that…?" Peter would have sworn the face Stiles made was patronizing or condescending. Could a face be condescending? Whatever it was Peter made a stern, I'm-putting-my-foot-down, answer-me face, and Stiles rolled his eyes and spoke in a hushed voice.

"God, Peter, I need to go to the bathroom!" Peter gave a half concerned half understanding look.

"Be caref-"

"Oh, my god! Dude, I'm going to the BATHROOM, not out in the woods. There aren't even stalls, it's a single bathroom. All I have to do is lock the door and nobody can get in without me knowing. Chill. Out." Peter stood in silence for a moment with an annoyed/annoying Are-you-done-ranting-so-I-can-say-something look. When Stiles motioned for him to say whatever it was he was going to say, he leaned in close to Stiles.

"… Be care-" Stiles rolled his eyes as he walked off.

"Careful, yeah, got it!" He called back before entering the bathroom, closing the door a bit hard to emphasize his annoyance. But Peter just smiled, unable to explain the warm feeling in his gut.

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