Two Wrongs

by seanbiggerstaffrox

Peter and Chris' first attempt at a relationship doesn't end well. Their second ends far, far worse when the Chris Peter's with turns out to be a shapeshifter disguised as the hunter.

2. Chapter 2

November 2nd, 1987

Peter moans, head falling back as Chris kisses his way down the wolf's throat. His plan to stay away from Chris hadn't gone quite as well as he'd hoped and now they're in the rear seat of Chris' Cadillac, making out while the radio plays in the background. Peter listens idly to the music as Chris lays down on top of him.

"This song's terrible." Peter observes, fingers gripping at Chris' shirt.

"Funky Town?" Chris asks, pulling his lips away from Peter. The wolf sighs in disappointment, head arching back unintentionally to encourage the guy to return. Chris smirks, leaning down and trailing his mouth over Peter's jaw. "Just watch, in ten years it'll be a classic."

Peter hums doubtfully. "You've lived in places other than Beacon Hills, right?" He asks.

"Yeah." Chris says, nibbling at Peter's ear. The wolf bites his lip, fighting the urge to arch up into Chris. He's getting hard and he's not sure how the guy will react to him rubbing his dick against him. Peter wants to desperately, legs trembling at the urge it takes not to wrap them around his friend.

"Is it nice?" Peter asks, genuinely curious but also trying to focus on things other than the throb in his dick. A voice in his mind tells him he should just go for it, because there's no reason for him to be timid, but the idea of Chris rejecting him has him holding back. He tells himself it's because he'd be really bored if he didn't have Chris to make out with. In reality, he's just scared. Scared of Chris turning him down and additionally scared that it will somehow lead to news coming out that Peter's into guys and then suddenly he'll be the laughingstock of the whole school. He probably should have thought about that before he got into the car with Chris.

Chris shrugs in response to Peter's question. "It's alright. There are good places and bad places."

Peter nods. He thinks whatever place it is, if it gets him away from the Hale house, he'll be fine with it. "You move around a lot?"

Chris lifts his head, looking at Peter curiously. "Not that I'm against having a conversation." He says, "But it's kind of hard to do that and kiss you at the same time." He points out.

Peter's face heats and he nods. "Oh, yeah." He mutters. He'll have to find some other way to cool himself down. He bites his lip, casting around for a distraction.

Chris raises his eyebrows. "It's hard to kiss you when you do that too." He notes, prodding at Peter's mouth. "Something wrong."

"No, I just…" Peter trails off, not sure how to explain his predicament. "I'm just…distracting myself." He says, willing a hole to form in the earth. He likes to think of himself as a put together guy, but Chris has this way of throwing him off his game. He hopes it doesn't carry over to basketball. He's starting to wonder if he can function on the court with Chris around.

"Distract yourself?" Chris says, eyes narrowing suspiciously.

"Not like that, asswipe." Peter snaps, frustrated. "Look, I'm hard, okay?" He says, deciding to just come out with it.

Chris blinks at him before smirking. "That's kind of the point." He says.

"What-?" Peter starts, but Chris is kissing him again and pressing down. Peter moans, parting his thighs on instinct and letting Chris sink fully on top of him. He clutches at Chris' hips with his legs and lets out a startled whimper when the other teen grinds forward, letting the wolf feel the answering stiffness in his jeans. "Oh." He gasps, understanding what Chris was saying. He guesses that is the point.

Peter's hands move up to press at Chris' back and he flushes at the feeling of the teen's torso resting against his. Between layers of clothing, he feels Chris' warmth and strong muscles. He pants, arching up to nip and lick at Chris' mouth, giving as good as he's getting. Chris rocks down against him and Peter shudders, keening between them at the feeling of pressure against his cock.

"Fuck." He curses, hips rolling up to meet Chris'.

"Think you could come like this?" Chris asks, voice husky in his ear. Peter bites his lips, fighting back the flush and hiding his face in Chris' shoulder.

"Probably." He answers softly, heart hammering in his chest. He definitely wants to come like this.

"Can I make you come?" Chris asks, pulling back to look at Peter seriously.

The wolf's breath gusts out of him. "Yeah." He says, blood boiling from desire.

Chris groans, diving down to pull him into a kiss again. The teen pushes Peter's shirt up, trailing his hands over smooth skin, and Peter moans, rocking up against Chris. He feels the other guy's hands pulling at the waist of his pants and he stops breathing in anticipation. It's an eternity of nerves and longing as Chris slips his hand passed the band of Peter's underwear, slowly lowering the wolf's covering until his cock's exposed. Peter bites his lip, nervous, as Chris looks down. The teen lets out a pleased noise at the sight and wraps his fingers over Peter's member.

The wolf whimpers, clutching at Chris' bicep as the teen starts to stroke him. "Fuck. Chris." Peter gasps out. "Do you want me to – oh!" Peter's hand halts on his journey to Chris' jeans because a thumb slides over the head of his dick, scraping along sensitive nerves.

Chris reaches down, undoing his jeans one handed while he caresses Peter. The wolf watches with half-lidded eyes as the teen exposes his cock. He stares at the member in fascination, taking in the pink flesh and the veins running along Chris' length. The teen brings their dicks together and Peter groans, eyelids fluttering shut at the feeling of the hot, slick skin against his own.

"Chris." He moans, clutching at his partner. He reaches between them, trying to help bring them both off. His breath hitches when he touches Chris' cock, the member heavy and hard in his palm.

"Peter." Chris gasps, pressing hungry kisses to Peter's neck. The wolf arches his head back, encouraging the other teen's mouth.

"I'm close." Peter pants, warning the other guy. Chris strokes even harder, eager to see Peter come. The wolf lets out desperate keens, feeling his orgasm build. He hasn't been able to get off in far too long. It's rare that he has a moment to masturbate, let alone have another person's hand on his cock. He's less experienced in the matters of sex than he'd like to be. Which is why Peter's not prepared for his eyes to turn or his claws to come out.

He grips at the seat so he doesn't hurt Chris and that's all the awareness he has before he's spilling over the edge with a desperate distressed sound, realizing his fangs have come out and Chris is definitely going to see them, since the teen pulls back to watch him come. He knows the moment that Chris realizes, because the teen tenses and his scent tinges sharp with shock and panic. Chris doesn't even let himself come before he's pulling back, scooping his pants up and backing away from Peter. The wolf shudders, curling in on himself in sudden fear and humiliation.

He pulls his trousers up hastily, covering himself as he pushes his way out of the other side of the vehicle. His heart's pounding in his head, beating a deafening, panicked rhythm in his ear drums. Chris shouts after him, but Peter keeps going. He's not sure what he thinks Chris is going to do, but he doesn't want to find out.

Terrified adrenaline pushes him into the woods and he weaves through the preserve, ducking between branches and leaping over fallen trees. The forest creates a blur around him and he doesn't stop until a cry from nearby has him stumbling his footing. He crouches down into the underbrush, looking off to the side with wide eyes. He sniffs – blood. He smells a man – one of the hunters. And there's a wolf too, but it's not one of the Hales. It must be one from the neighboring packs.

Peter hears another shout of pain and he crawls forward, moving closer to the strangers. He keeps his eyes peeled for more hunters and peers beneath the trees, taking in the scene that comes into view.

He recognizes the wolf as Manuel. He's from two towns over. He and Talia have paired up a few times when things have gotten pretty bad. He doesn't recognize the hunter, but he can see the relation to Chris. It's definitely one of the Argents. The man's beating Manuel, his other weapons discarded as he uses his fists to butcher the werewolf, who's too wounded to fight back. He's been sliced with a knife already, leaking black goo from several open injuries.

Peter ducks down, lips trembling as he listens to the beating in horror. The Argent's getting off on it, grinning in glee as Manuel whimpers, face swelling and body shaking. The wolf's not dead. He probably won't be for a while, and it looks like the hunter has every intention of dragging it out as long and as painful as possible.

Peter flinches, facing out into the woods around him and trying to figure out what to do. He should get help – go back to the Hale house and find Talia. His hands shake. He sees a branch lying nearby. It's thick and knotted, and Peter takes in a deep breath, reaching forward and wrapping unsteady fingers around the log.

He has to take a moment to steady himself. He doesn't usually fight. The older wolves take care of that, Peter just hangs back and makes sure the kids don't get into trouble. It takes it's own sort of bravery and perseverance to babysit a horde of young werewolves, but it's not nearly the same thing as taking on a hunter. At least he knows the kids aren't trying to kill him, and if they were, they wouldn't know how. This guy's been trained his whole life. He's strong enough to use his bare hands on a werewolf and Peter knows he'd be utterly useless in hand-to-hand combat.

Fortunately for Peter, it looks like this guy's hunting alone, but the wolf doesn't doubt that more of them are on their way. That means it's now or never. Lifting the branch, Peter turns, taking shallow breaths as he advances carefully through the trees, coming up behind the Argent. Manuel's cries cover most of the sound Peter makes, but not all of them. He rustles the leaves behind the Argent, who turns swiftly, face contorted in a monstrous, predatory expression. Peter swings the log down on instinct, bashing the guy over the head before he can even think through the action.

The hunter falls to the side, bringing a hand up to his bloody face and growling, glaring at Peter from his good eye. The wolf swings again, hitting on repeat until the guy's down on the ground. Peter lets out panicked, distraught sobs as he beats the guy. Blood goes everywhere, clinging to the leaves and the wolf's clothes, and Peter shudders, dropping the stick and stepping back in alarm.

"Oh god." Peter mutters in distress. "Oh god."

Manuel groans nearby, shifting on the ground as he tries to lift himself. Peter rushes forward, helping him to his feet.

"Better get out of here." Manuel says, shooting a sidelong glance to the body on the ground. "No time to bury him."

Peter lets out a shaky breath, shouldering the bigger wolf and dragging him forward.

"Fuck." Manuel curses and Peter thinks it's because he's in pain until he hears the sound of another person coming up on them. "I can take him. You better go."

Peter's tempted to follow the wolf's orders but he hangs back, frozen in place by fear and an unexpected sense of duty. Chris comes out between the trees, stopping when he spots Peter and Manuel. He gapes, looking over at the fallen hunter.

Peter's lungs freeze. He's sure Chris will call the other hunters now or kill them. Instead the teen looks around, shakes his head, and then steps closer to Peter.

"This way." He says, encouraging the wolves to follow him.

"It's a trap." Manuel hisses at him.

Peter looks between his companion and Chris.

"I know where they're patrolling." Chris says. "I can help."

"I don't…" Peter's voice catches in his throat and he just feels lost. The blood on his clothes and arms burns hot against his skin and he's pretty sure he just killed a guy.

"Peter. Follow me." Chris orders.

Peter looks up at him, staring into earnest blue eyes, and nods. "Okay." He agrees quietly. Manuel protests but Peter ignores him, pulling the wolf along as he follows Chris. The teen's firm and steady, leading them through the woods with stealth and precision, and it helps Peter feel a little more grounded. Doubts swirl in his mind, but as long as he follows Chris, he can keep his hysteria at bay and focus ahead.

They duck down, stopping here and there as Chris takes in the layout, guiding them past hunters and traps. He stops a couple of miles away from the Hale property.

"It'll be clear from here." He promises Peter. "We don't go any further than this."

They risk a full out war if they actually invade the Hale property. Peter shudders, wondering just how long they've been observing the Hales and planning for this.

"Thanks." Peter says weakly, voice thick and watery.

Chris nods. "Here." He says, holding his hand out.

Peter reaches forward unsteadily and Chris drops a bullet into his palm. Peter frowns, looking at it in confusion.

"The mountain ash." Chris says, nodding to Manuel. "Put it in the wounds. It'll cure him."

"Why are you helping?" Peter asks.

"The code." Chris says and leaves it at that.

Peter takes the bullet, holding it firmly as he adjusts his grip on Manuel. "I'm sorry." He says when Chris moves to walk away. "About the hunter."

"Just go." Chris says. "Get home safe."

Peter's jaw clenches and he gives a short nod. He sniffs, carrying Manuel and trying not to linger on the image of the hunter, crumpled and bloody on the forest floor.

As the days pass, Peter finds himself thinking about Allison more than he thinks about Chris. It's hard to acknowledge the other man when it wasn't him he was with to begin with. Even if the shapeshifter was using Chris' memories and Chris' thoughts, the whole relationship is tinged muddy gray and unpleasant with the knowledge that Peter had really been with a stranger. Chris never would have done any of those things, and even if he would have, he didn't and Peter's shutting the door on that possibility once and for all. He doesn't want a relationship with Chris now anyway. Both attempts at being with him had met such abominable ends that Peter would just rather abandon the notion altogether.

Allison had been genuine though. It was rocky at first and still riddled with pebbles at the end, but they'd managed to forge something. He'd been almost a stepfather to her, and he'd made a place in his heart for the teenage girl. It's painful to not see her in the mornings or to be able to ask about her day. They can't bond over their mutual soap opera addiction or their love of chocolate (as opposed to Chris, who never developed a fondness for the stuff.) They don't engage with each other at all and Peter misses it. He misses a lot of things.

He avoids the pack for the most part. He gets a few texts from Derek and, bizarrely, Kira, who he suspects does so out of courtesy, but he never goes to the loft and he has no intention of seeing anyone. They'll manage well enough without him. He thinks he might go somewhere and do something useful. He can at least make a life for himself.

November 3rd, 1987

Peter's slumped in his seat in the classroom, staring down at his fingers blankly and wondering if he's imagining the rich scent of copper on them. He showered thoroughly both last night and this morning, but he still can't get rid of the smell of blood.

Chris comes into the room and Peter stiffens, eyes closing as the teen passes him. He doesn't want to see the anger on the guy's face. He doesn't want to see how much Chris hates him now. Peter waits for the sound of Chris moving further, taking a seat as far away from the wolf as possible. The Argent hesitates, just a second, and then takes the desk next to the wolf's.

Peter blinks his eyes open and frowns. He's sure it's a ploy of some sort. Maybe Chris is planning on whispering abuse to Peter for the rest of class. The teen nods at him in greeting and Peter looks away, staring at the board in confusion.

Halfway through class, Chris slips him a note, telling him to meet him under the bridge near the outside basketball court.

The day passes slowly, with Peter's mind spilling over various possibilities of what Chris plans on doing. None of them are good, but Peter still shows up under the bridge. He gets there before Chris and waits, chewing his fingernail and fidgeting nervously.

"Hey." Chris says when he rounds the corner and comes under the overpass. His hood's up and his hands are tucked into his jacket pockets, protecting him from the cold. Rain drops have splattered onto his clothing, making him look a little ruffled but no less intimidating.

Peter glances at the basketball court behind Chris. It's the only place anyone would be able to see them, but the rain's driven everyone inside, so they're in no danger of being watched. That only makes Peter more nervous.

"Hey." The wolf says, trying to hide his anxiety. He tucks his hands into his jeans to stop himself from fidgeting.

"How's that guy from yesterday?" Chris asks. He steps forward, coming up in front of Peter. They're not that close, but Peter can still feel the air heat ten degrees from the warmth wafting off of Chris.

"Good. Better." Peter mutters. "How's the other guy?"

"Alive." Chris says. "He's in the hospital. Critical."

Peter lets out a shaky exhale. "Sorry." He says.

"Don't be." Chris replies, firmly. "He's a dick. Got what was coming."

Peter looks at Chris in surprise.

"I, uh…" Chris starts, glancing down and licking his lips nervously. "I'm not like them, Peter. I don't…I don't believe in what they do. Killing people, innocent people, just for being different? It's not right. I mean, hell, you've seen the news." Chris says. "Gay bashings, hate crimes, that sort of stuff…It's no different."

"It's a little different." Peter points out. "I mean, we're monsters, right?"

"I don't think so." Chris says, staring sincerely into Peter's eyes. "You and your family, you're just…"

"Freaks?"

"Unusual." Chris corrects. "Doesn't make you evil."

Peter watches Chris' face, wondering about the hidden thoughts he sees behind those eyes. "Are you unusual?" He asks.

Chris gives him a pointed look. "I come from a family of hunters." He says.

"No, I mean, are you…" Gay, is what he's trying to ask. They've made out, so he wouldn't be surprised. "Strange?" He finishes.

Chris frowns. "Queer, you mean?" He asks.

Peter had been trying to avoid the slur but he nods.

Chris shakes his head in disbelief. "Weird thing to ask the guy who's touched your dick." He says.

"I'm still asking." Peter says.

"It's complicated." Chris says.

"I don't know what that means."

"It means I don't know." Chris says. "Why, you queer?"

Peter swallows. "I'm…" He trails off, licking his lips. He's been in the closet for a while. He thinks he might like women, he's not sure. He knows he likes guys though, and he definitely wants to have sex with Chris. Even knowing what he does, he just seems to want the guy more and more.

"Hey, it's okay if you are." Chris says, stepping closer to him. He rests his fingers hesitantly on Peter's cheek and the wolf looks up at the hunter.

"It's confusing." He mutters.

"Then don't worry about." Chris says. "Do you like me?"

Peter looks down at Chris' mouth, remembering the way it felt on him. "Yeah."

"Then focus on that."

"We shouldn't do this." Peter whispers when Chris leans in.

"Why not?" Chris asks. "Fuck our families. Fuck what other people think. What about you? What do you want?"

Peter's voice catches when he tries to answer. He wants a lot of things – his own room, some privacy, to get out of this hellhole – but right now what he really wants is to kiss Chris. So he does.

Peter grips at the other teen, kissing him with everything he's got. It's the first time he's really just gone for what he wants and it feels spectacular. Chris' mouth is heaven and the hunter lets out a soft moan against his lips that Peter licks up eagerly. He clutches at Chris' waist and brings a hand up to his scalp, where he touches soft, blond locks. The hunter grips him just as firmly, sucking and nipping at Peter until the wolf's gasping against him.

"Fuck." Peter pants, leaning his forehead against the hunter's as he tries to calm down. It feels like fireworks and explosions and every other cliché he's ever read in one of his Aunt Trudy's romance novels.

Peter breathes hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He hears the echo of Chris' pulse, equally frenzied, and it makes his blood boil. He affects Chris. He doesn't think he should – he's too awkward, too uncertain, too much of a mess – but Chris is into him. The hunter pulls him into another kiss and Peter moans.

It's dangerous. He barely knows this guy, and even he can tell that his feelings are coming up on him way too fast. His world's falling apart around him just from a kiss, and he knows the longer they do this, the more intense it's going to get and then he'll never recover from it. It feels like it's too late to stop it though. He's in deep and he'll only get in deeper, but he can't bring himself to care.

He's sick of being cautious. He's sick of worrying about the pack and having nothing of his own. He throwing out the rule book and doing something for himself. It's liberating.

He feels something dark swirl in his chest, something like power, and thinks he could easily get addicted to this.

Peter books a plane ticket to New York. His apartment lease expires in five weeks and he plans on leaving a little before then. He figures the sooner he can get out of Beacon Hills, the better.

He procrastinates a little while, because he's not sure what to do about the stuff he still has at the Argents' place. He doesn't want to see Chris and he's tempted to just let the hunter deal with all of it, but he thinks the man's been through enough, he shouldn't have to deal with Peter's crap too. It's a rare moment of sympathy for him, but he still doesn't contact Chris.

Chris is the one who comes to him in the end. It's a few weeks before Peter leaves and the wolf's cleaning everything obsessively, mostly just to give himself something to do. He's in the oven, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a washcloth in hand as he wipes the inside down. It's not really dirty, but he's determined to get it spotless. A knock from the door tears him from his thoughts. He smells Chris before he even gets to the entrance. Despite the forewarning, the sight of Chris has Peter feeling stricken and breathless.

"Hey." Chris says, looking a little better than the last time Peter saw him. He's still a touch too thin and there are circles under his eyes, but he's clean shaven and showered.

Peter steps aside, letting the hunter in. "I'm a bit busy." Peter says, retreating back into the oven with the rag. He shouldn't be turning his back on Chris like this. He should talk to him face-to-face, but he'd rather be rude than deal with the confusing swarm of emotions that comes with looking at the other man.

Peter's managed over the weeks to have quite a few Chris-free thoughts. He's handled things fairly well, he thinks, and even if he hasn't, at least he never brought his issues onto anyone else's doorstep. He's stuck to himself and gotten on with his own things. He hasn't been obsessing over his near-fiancé and he thinks he deserves some credit for that. Especially when having the hunter here has Peter's mind playing tricks on him. He feels like his world's just swung into motion again and he knows he shouldn't. He's still been living in Chris' absence and he tries to keep his ridiculous, romantic illusions at bay. They've always been nothing but trouble for him anyway.

"I think we should talk." Chris says.

Peter grits his teeth. "Not much to talk about." He says, trying for flippancy. He thinks he gets it down pretty well. At least, the echo of his voice in the oven sounds pretty uncaring.

"Peter, you…" Chris sighs behind him. Peter resists the urge to look back at the hunter. He scrubs furiously at an imaginary spot. "You lived with that thing for a year." Chris points out.

"No. I lived with it for four months." Peter points out. "Allison lived with it for a year. You should talk to her."

"We have talked. We are talking." Chris says. "But, Peter-"

"No, Chris. Just stop." Peter snaps. "I don't want to talk about it. I don't want to think about it. And anyway, shouldn't you be at home dealing with your PTSD?"

A warm hand presses against Peter's shoulder and he flinches. He takes a deep breath before dropping the rag and pushing Chris' hand away. He pulls out of the oven and glares up at the hunter, who's kneeling beside him.

"Peter, you were gonna marry me."

"No, I was gonna marry the shapeshifter." Peter counters, ignoring the agony that twists in his chest. He's cried over it. It's mostly been in the shower, where he can let the tears disappear under the stream and almost fool himself into thinking he's not crying at all. Other times he just cries in the bathroom and one time he collapsed in the kitchen, kneeling almost where he is now as he wept.

He never cries in bed though. Which is odd, because he would have expected that to be the main sobbing place, since that's where he shares most of his intimate memories with Chris. In actuality, it's the only place he feels any semblance of calm. He sometimes contemplates the empty space beside him or lets his mind wander over memories that feel more distant when he's in the safety of his blanket.

He thinks it's because it's not the sex that he misses. It had been lovely, of course, although now it just makes him feel cold when he remembers it. But the things that make his heart ache are when he turns to pass a mug of coffee to Chris only to realize he isn't there. Or when he goes to knock on Allison's door and remembers he's in his empty apartment now and Allison doesn't have a room there. It's the small things that he never really appreciated until they were gone.

Peter sighs, sitting against the cabinet. He balances the back of his cranium against the wooden doors and looks at the space behind the hunter's shoulder. He does it mostly to get away from Chris, but he's also just tired. It's not the type of tired he was at the Argent's apartment, when Shapeshifter Chris was feeding off of him, but it's just a general emotional fatigue. He's sick of having feelings about all of this. He wishes he could just be at peace with the situation.

"Allison misses you." Chris says, watching him cautiously.

Peter raises his eyebrows in surprise, turning his head slightly to look at Chris. "I didn't think she even liked me." He says. It's true. They got along relatively well, but she wasn't exactly eager to see him.

"You gave her money and candy for lunch. Of course she likes you." Chris points out. "And yes, she told me about it." He explains at Peter's questioning look.

The wolf snorts. "Good to know where her priorities lie."

"The apartment feels lonely without you."

Peter frowns. "How would you know?"

"Your stuff's everywhere. There are pictures of us together and I know it's not me but it feels like it could be."

Peter shakes his head, stopping whatever else Chris is going to vocalize. He looks at the hunter, thinking about what he's saying, and it's like a year ago all over again, only this time he's exhausted and operating 12 months ahead of the other man and he knows how it ends. All the things that he did with the shapeshifter, all the things that he experienced are completely lost on Chris. It feels like a galaxy's worth of a divide between them. Chris clearly has things he needs to work out and Peter's just done. He's never been one to work away at something futile. He'd rather move on to greener pastures. "I'm moving." Peter reveals.

Chris' eyes widen in surprise. "Moving?" He asks.

"To New York." Peter clarifies.

Chris stares at him, stunned. "You can't just leave."

"I'm not irreplaceable." Peter says. He's referring to his place in the pack but there's a second meaning there that he didn't intend but realizes is no less true.

Chris frowns. "Yes you are." He says.

Peter closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and not letting himself get sucked in by Chris' earnestness.

"What the shifter said, back at the loft?" Chris says. "About me not wanting you, about me moving on…It was bullshit. I've wanted you since I was sixteen. That never changed."

Peter swallows thickly, fighting back the moisture in his eyes. "You sure you're not another shifter?" He asks. He looks at the hunter and Chris is watching him pleadingly, begging the wolf to believe him.

"I loved Victoria." Chris says. "Still do. But that doesn't mean I didn't love you too. And it doesn't mean that I don't want you now."

"I'm still going." Peter says, mostly for his own benefit. He won't get dragged in. He can't.

"I won't stop you." Chris says.

Peter nods, looking away from the hunter and letting out a heavy breath. He tries to push down the lump in his throat and calm his racing heart. "My stuff's at your apartment." He points out.

"Do you want to come get it?" Chris offers. "Or I could always pack it up?"

"I'll get it." Peter says. His car's still over there anyway.

They arrange for Peter to come over Saturday and then Chris leaves. Peter looks around his sparse apartment and he's not sure if he feels better or not. He certainly doesn't feel worse, which he guesses is a small miracle.

March 21st, 1988

"You want some?"

Peter glances over at Chris in the darkness. They're in their clearing, a hidden area in the woods that the Hales and Argents don't even seem to know about. It's a perfect meeting spot, equidistant between both their houses and private enough that they don't have to worry about anyone finding them.

"You know that won't do anything?" Peter says, nodding at the whiskey bottle Chris holds out.

"Still look like you could use it." Chris says, shifting on the log. Peter sighs, taking the container and taking a swig of the burning liquid. He cringes at the foul taste and hands it back. "You gonna tell me what's up?" Chris asks, capping the bottle.

Peter sighs, shifting on the bark and laying back. The rough wood scrapes against his clothed back as he stares up at the circle of stars overhead. "Talia's pregnant." He says. Chris sets a hand on his leg, palm warm through the fabric of Peter's jeans.

"Isn't that a good thing?" Chris asks, setting his chin on Peter's bent knee. The wolf glances up at him.

"I guess." Peter says, nose wrinkling. "It's just, my room's almost finished, you know?" He says, lifting his head and resting his elbows on the log beneath him.

"She's not gonna make you share it, right?" Chris asks, frowning.

"I don't know. Maybe." Peter mutters. He's been waiting for his own room for 7 years. "It'll only be one more year, I guess." He says, trying to find the bright side.

"You need your own space, man." Chris says.

"I know." Peter sighs, resting his head back against the wood. "God, I just want to get out of here."

Chris watches him curiously. "Why don't we?" He asks. Peter looks at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm serious, dude. You and me."

"You mean run away?" Peter asks, sitting up and staring at Chris seriously.

"Yeah." Chris says.

"What about school? And money? And our families?" Peter asks, thoughts swirling in his head.

"Hey." Chris says, resting a hand against his neck and calming him down. "We don't have to do it now." He offers. "We can wait till we graduated. I've been saving what I'm earning at the bowling alley and you're gonna lifeguard during the summer, right?"

Peter nods.

"We can put money away." Chris says.

"And our families?" Peter asks.

Chris studies the wolf. "I don't want to be a hunter." He says. "I want to be with you, Peter."

Peter swallows, glancing down at Chris lips. "Me too." He confesses. "I wish we could leave now."

"Me too." Chris says. "But you know what we can do?" He asks, running his fingers up Peter's thigh.

"Pervert." Peter mutters.

"Not a pervert. Just looking out for your needs." Chris counters. "You gotta get off sometime, right? Can't do it with Harry in the room."

"Oh, so you're saving me?" Peter says, cocking an eyebrow.

"Exactly." Chris says. "Blue balls can be very serious."

"My hero." Peter mutters.

Chris smirks. "You can get on your knees and thank me later." He says, running his thumb over Peter's lip.

The wolf's stomach flips. He leans forward, gripping Chris and pulling him into a kiss. The blond's right, Peter really does need to get off.

He lets Chris move him. He submits easily as Chris pulls his shirt aside and leavings tingling hickeys down his torso. The bruises heal quickly, but the skin remembers, throbbing and hot where Chris' mouth was.

Peter lets the hunter spread his legs and pull his jeans down and then Chris is sucking him off, making him arch and moan against the log as his world boils down to the moist suction on his cock. He's careful not to tug on Chris' hair and instead digs his fingernails into the log and throws his head back, eyes flashing beta gold then back to blue. Peter comes with a gasp and Chris swallows it down. The hunter moves up, kissing Peter and letting the wolf taste himself on Chris' tongue. Peter moans and pushes Chris backward, getting him settled so he can move between his legs and reciprocate, pressing gratitude and affection into sensitive veins and sweaty flesh.

In the aftermath, Peter thinks he can last another year like this. It will be worth it when they're finally out on their own.

It's Saturday and Peter's at the Argents' apartment. He's packing up some of the plates and kitchen utensils he brought with him. He finds his blender in the cabinet over the fridge and practically kisses it.

"I've missed you." He whispers to the machine.

There's a snort in the doorway and he looks up. Allison. Always so quiet and stealthy. She'll make a glorious hunter.

"Do you always talk to kitchen appliances?" She asks.

Peter bows his head. "Only the interesting ones." He says. He places it in the cardboard box, laying it on its side by the mixing bowls.

"So, why New York?" Allison inquires, stepping further into the room.

"I had an uncle there. We used to visit." Peter says. "I like it. It's..." He pauses, searching for an adjective.

"Far?" Allison supplies.

Peter nods. "Far." He agrees.

"Look, I'm not okay with what you did to Scott. Or Lydia." Allison says. "I don't know how I feel about any of this, really. It's confusing. But…"

"But?"

"God, I don't know. I'm sorry? I guess. I mean, you seemed happy. And it was kind of nice having you around in a weird, creepy sort of way. Which I'll deny if anyone asks."

Peter's lips twitch. "I like you, Allison." He says. "I admire you."

Allison scrunches her face. "Thanks?"

"You don't have to thank me. It's the truth." Peter says. "You will be an unstoppable hunter."

Allison nods, letting out a little sigh.

"You'll be unstoppable at whatever you decide to do." Peter says, looking at her knowingly. He's aware that her heart isn't in the hunting lifestyle.

"I don't think I have much of a choice." Allison confesses quietly.

"You have every choice in the world." Peter replies. "And only a fool would stand in your way."

Allison smiles softly. "You're just saying this so you don't have to worry about me hunting you."

"I'm saying it because, for some bizarre reason, I care. Not having to worry about you hunting me is just a bonus." Peter replies.

Allison shakes her head incredulously. "Do you need help packing?" She asks.

"No. I just have this and…" Peter purses his lips, looking at the hallway. The bedroom's down there.

"Oh." Allison mutters. "Well, I'm gonna head over to Scott's." She says, either because she wants to get away from the impending awkwardness or because she's trying to give him space.

"How is he?" Peter asks.

"Better. After the shifter got killed he healed up pretty quick."

"Great." Peter says.

There's an awkward silence before she bids goodbye and leaves. He summons his resolve and grabs a couple of boxes. He opens the bedroom door hesitantly and feels his stomach fall out. He can still smell them in there. He's a weird mixture of heartsick and queasy as he steps into the room, remembering long, passionate nights that make his skin itch. He can't tell if he wants more or if he feels traumatized. He's not sure he has a right to either emotion, given his history.

Peter sets the boxes on the mattress and ignores the echo of fingers tracing over him, holding him tight as Fake Chris rocks inside his quivering entrance. In a moment of weakness, Peter's eyes slip shut for a brief second and he feels the phantom weight of the ring on his finger. Hot breath ghosts over his neck and a figment of Chris presses up against his back, whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

There's a creak outside the bedroom and Peter's eyes fly open. He knocks himself out of the fantasy and goes over to what served as his side of the bed. His nightstand's still there, with a picture of him and Chris and some of his personal effects. He busies himself collecting his keys and cell phone charger and Chris hesitantly opens the door, eyeing him awkwardly.

"Hey." The hunter greets.

"Hey." Peter echoes, sliding his drawer out. He sees the box for his engagement ring and his heart constricts. He reaches shaking fingers forward and grabs the container, running his digits over the case. He bites the inside of his cheek but he's not sure if he's holding back tears or screams. He feels sadness and anger hovering on the border of his emotions, but what takes over is just a sort of empty hollow of regret that has him more or less frozen in place, staring at a relic of a dream relationship that ended on a nightmare.

"I didn't move anything." Chris says.

Peter nods. He feels a tear slip down his cheek and realizes that sadness has won out. He drops the box onto the quilt with a shuddered breath and closes his eyes, bringing his palms up to cover his face. His cheeks heat in embarrassment and he wishes he could transport himself to his apartment so he doesn't have to do this in front of Chris.

"Peter." Chris says, voice filled with concern. The wolf hears him step forward and he turns away, taking trembling inhales as he tries to get himself under control. Chris keeps going, coming up behind him and laying his fingers on Peter's shoulder. When the wolf doesn't shrink away, he embraces him, pressing his front into Peter's back. It's not intended to be sexual, but Peter's mind flashes back to Chris spooning him as he slides in and out. He shivers and dispels the image. "I'm sorry." Chris says.

Peter snorts, rubbing his eyes stubbornly. "For what?"

"Everything. Leaving you."

"You didn't leave. You got kidnapped." Peter points out.

"The first time I didn't." Chris says.

Peter sighs. "Are we ever gonna get past that?" He mutters. The truth is, sometime during his relationship with Fake Chris, he managed to come to terms with it. He isn't happy about it or anything, but he understands. Even if he didn't, he's 41 now. Two decades have passed and he's collected plenty more hurts in the meantime. He's got to start letting go of some of this stuff or he's going to find himself in another situation like what happened with Fake Chris. If he hadn't been so hung up on the hunter and his feelings for him, this never would have happened. Either he'd have rejected the man and figured out the shifter thing from a safe distance or he'd have dated him. If the latter happened, he likes to think he'd have worked it out eventually. Maybe if he hadn't been so blinded by a feeling of betrayal and his worry that Chris would leave him again, he'd have been more observant. He could have saved them all a world of heartache.

"I don't know." Chris replies, answering Peter's question.

"Chris, it's not important anymore." The wolf says. "We've both lived lives. You've got a beautiful daughter. I have…" Peter clenches his jaw. Malia. "My own priorities." He says instead. He's going to move out of Beacon Hills. He won't be around for Malia and from his understanding she has a father who loves her dearly. He'd be shit at the job anyway and his only claim to her is biological, which amounts to squat.

"I just wish things had turned out differently." Chris says.

"Different isn't always better." Peter counters.

Chris lets out a heavy breath and even from a distance Peter can feel it on his neck. He turns around, studying the hunter. He looks exhausted. "You've changed." Chris notes. "You're nicer."

"I'm not that nice." Peter says, offended.

"No, you're not. But you're nicer." Chris counters. "And more honest."

"I'm lulling everyone into a false sense of security. It's all part of my master plan."

Chris lets out a breath of laughter. "I'm almost tempted to believe that." He says.

Peter sits on the mattress, pushing the ring box away before settling his elbows on his knees. "It was a long year." He starts. "And I guess you're a good influence on me."

Chris looks at him in surprise. He joins Peter on the bed, sitting a foot away to give the wolf space. "Was it really that much like me?" He asks.

"It fooled Allison. She'd have known long before I did." Peter points out.

Chris nods. "But with you…I mean, it got you to agree to marriage."

Peter lets out a humorless laugh. "That was rather ingenuous." He admits.

"Did you love me? Well, what you thought was me?" Chris asks.

The wolf swallows around the lump in his throat and his fingers clench together. He'd never said it to Fake Chris. He's not particularly inclined to say it to the real one, especially in these circumstances. "I cared for you in my own way." He says.

Chris reads the 'yes' hidden in that statement. "Do you think it would have gone through with the marriage?"

"Probably."

"Would you marry me now, if I asked?" Chris says.

Peter's world tilts and he looks up at the hunter. "If that's your idea of a proposal, I have some notes."

"I'm not proposing. I just want to know where we stand."

"Currently? Nowhere. You're staying in Beacon Hills with your daughter and I'm going to New York."

Chris rubs a hand over his mouth, holding back anything he wants to say to the contrary. "What are you going to do when you get there?" He asks after a moment.

"Create an army and take over the city." Peter answers dryly.

"Really?" Chris asks.

"No." Peter says. "I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but I always land on my feet."

"That you do." Chris concedes. "So are we done? You and me?"

Peter looks over at Chris and feels want twist sharp in his gut. He needs to say yes, to finish this forever, but it seems he's physically incapable of it. He thinks about never seeing Chris again, never touching him again, never kissing him again, and his lungs seize tight, filled to the brim with dust and ash. He opens his mouth, trying to get the words out, but his vocal chords won't cooperate and he finds his eyes drawn down to Chris' lips. "I…" Peter starts but can't go any further.

Chris watches him, fingers twitching in his direction before he can stop himself. "Could I…could I kiss you?" Chris asks hesitantly.

A sharp shock goes through the wolf and he looks in the hunter's wide eyes. "You never asked before." He says.

"I'm asking now."

Peter thinks about saying no, but he finds himself leaning forward, instigating the kiss first. He falters slightly when the memory of Fake Chris' mouth on his sends a shock of coldness through him, but then his lips are on Chris' and he floods with heat. He tries to remember that this Chris hasn't kissed him in twenty three years, but it's only been a little over a month since he had his lips against the hunter's and he fails at taking it slow.

Peter pushes against Chris', licking and sucking and nipping, and the hunter twists fingers in the wolf's hair, taking a few moments to get into the rhythm. Peter's hand presses against Chris' tailbone and he feels warm flesh under thin cotton.

"Want you." Chris confesses against Peter's lips. The wolf shudders.

"Take me." He says. He wants it rough and fast and angry. He wants Chris to fuck himself into Peter's memories forever. He wants to still be sore when the plane lands in New York. He wants something that's going to last him a lifetime.

Peter strips them down quickly, fighting against Chris' attempts to be gentle because Peter doesn't want that. He almost tells Chris to go in without lube, but he thinks better of it, letting Chris slick up his fingers and slip them inside him, chasing away the memory of Fake Chris' touches and replacing them with the real thing.

Peter gasps and shudders in the sheets, arching up into Chris' digits as the hunter presses hungry kisses to his mouth. He can tell the man's still weak from his time in captivity, so he pushes Chris down and straddles him, sinking onto his cock quickly. Chris gasps below him, clutching at Peter's hips and moaning his name. Peter leans down, sucking in Chris' bottom lip and growling in satisfaction as the hunter fills him up.

He bounces on Chris' lap, digging his fingers into the sheets as he fucks himself onto the hunter. He pulls away from Chris' mouth and pants. He rides the man ruthlessly, setting a brutal pace that has them both gasping and wrecked.

Chris summons the strength to flip them and Peter finds himself on his back, head thrown over the edge of the bed and legs wrapped around the hunter's hips as Chris slams into him. The hunter takes advantage of Peter's bared throat by biting into the flesh, leaving marks that quickly fade. Peter moans, clutching at Chris' shoulders. He sees stars behind his eyelids and all the conflicted thoughts and emotions are kept at bay by the feel of Chris moving against him. Peter never wants it to end and he tries to fight the growing tension in his abdomen.

Chris' fingers fist in Peter's hair, keeping his head back and the hunter lifts up, looking into his face. Peter blinks hooded eyes at him, letting out puffs of air as he stares back at him. Chris slams their lips together and Peter moans, arching up into the hunter's thrusts and feeling his dick leak. He reaches between, wrapping his fist around his member and pulling. He whines into Chris' mouth and clenches around his dick, drawing closer to orgasm.

"Fuck." Chris groans, pulling off of Peter's lips.

Peter's eyes drop shut and he pants, stroking himself over the edge as Chris fucks into him. He comes with a shout, hole twitching around Chris' cock, and the hunter shudders, pounding into him. He stills, mouth gaping open as he fills Peter up, and they both pant, sweaty bodies twined together while they come down from their high.

Peter pushes gently at Chris' shoulder and the hunter moves, slipping out and settling on the end of the bed. The wolf gets up, coughing awkwardly as he grabs a tissue from the nightstand and wipes the spunk off his stomach. Chris watches him curiously as Peter rises, slipping his clothes back on.

"Are you leaving?" Chris asks hesitantly.

"I still have to finish packing." Peter points out.

Chris nods.

"You should go. Have a shower or something." Peter says.

Chris understands what Peter's really saying – he wants to be alone. The hunters gets off the bed, pausing a moment on his way out the door. "In case you're gone before I get out," Chris says, "Goodbye. And I'd like to talk to you sometimes. When you're in New York. So call me and text me or whatever."

Peter nods. "Yeah. You too." He says.

Chris leaves the room and Peter packs quickly, shoving his meager belongings in his boxes and taking them down to the car. Chris takes his sweet time in the bathroom. He's probably waiting for Peter to leave before he comes out. Peter gives a last look at the apartment, holding his final box in his hands. He drops the key Fake Chris gave him on the table near the entrance. He locks the door as he exits, shutting himself out of the Argents' life.

Peter bids his goodbyes to Derek, who seems less thrilled to see the back of Peter than the eldest Hale expected. He thinks Derek's started to view him with more sympathy since the shapeshifter incident. Derek's still happy to see him leave though.

Peter doesn't say anything to Malia, but he does spend his last evening watching her from the shadows. It's invasive and inappropriate, but Peter's always been both of those things so he doesn't feel too badly. Malia doesn't do anything terribly exciting anyway, so he figures his crime is lessened as a result.

Her father's nice. They seem to get along alright and Peter thinks she's in good hands. He clearly loves her, though there's a distance there that Peter would have taken advantage of a year ago. He won't do that now.

Peter leaves for the airport early in the morning. He's already shipped his stuff off to New York, where it should be waiting in a storage unit. He has an apartment arranged for him in Manhattan. It's a nice little suite that costs a pretty penny, but he's got plenty of money. He thinks he'll have to set up a will when he gets to New York. He's planning on leaving everything to Malia. Whether he'll tell her why, he's not sure, but he knows he wants it to go her way.

Peter sits in the airport for an hour, waiting for his flight. If he's expecting some sort of rom-com ending where Chris comes running in to stop him, it never happens. Good thing he wasn't expecting it, he supposes, going on board the flight to New York.

The plane ride's boring and once he gets to New York it's all paperwork and errands. It takes him two weeks to fully settle into his apartment, but he relaxes a bit once he does. He's still hurting emotionally, but he's got something to focus on at least.

February 10th, 1989

Peter's room is done. Talia's had her baby – a little boy she named Derek. Peter's not sure if he likes him yet or not. The kid's fussy and cries all the time. Peter can hear him all the way from the basement. Fortunately, Derek screams every time Peter goes anywhere near him, so he's been officially taken off Derek duty and can watch from the sidelines while everyone else tries to deal with the little brat.

It's 10:30 pm on a Friday and Peter's currently walking away from the coach's office bearing a stunned expression and holding a brochure for the University of California. He reaches a hand up, scratching absent-mindedly at his basketball jersey as he turns the corner, looking for Chris. The blond's supposed to be waiting for him somewhere around here. Peter hears voices in the next corridor. One of them sounds like Chris' and the other is female, but he can't place it. Peter draws closer and pauses, listening.

"There's a party next Saturday. You should come."

"Yeah, that would be cool." Chris says.

"Cool." The girl says. "And, you know, we could always hang out sometime, just you and me. If you're free."

"Oh." Chris says. "Um, yeah, that would be…yeah."

"Great. See you, Christopher."

"Yeah, bye."

Peter straightens as footsteps draw closer. He tries to look casual as Cindy Laurence comes around the corner, skirt swooshing around her knees and hair bouncing with each step.

"Hey, Peter." She greets kindly. "Great game."

"Thanks." Peter says as she passes. Chris comes into view, glancing between Peter and Cindy with wide eyes.

"Peter." He says, approaching him. "That was, um…" He looks at Cindy's retreating back then back to Peter.

"Cindy." Peter finishes for him.

"Yeah, she just wanted to-"

"Hang out sometime." Peter says.

Chris looks at him guiltily and Peter snorts.

"It's not like we're exclusive, dude." The wolf points out. "She's pretty, go for it." He says.

Chris frowns, studying Peter. "You serious?" He asks.

"Yeah." Peter says. "People will start talking if you don't."

Chris bites his lip. He leans forward, pressing a quick peck to Peter's lips before pulling away. "Okay, yeah, I'll just…" He gestures awkwardly and Peter nods, letting him go. Chris moves down the hallway, racing after the girl. "Hey Cindy, wait up." He says, turning into the next hallway.

Peter sighs, lifting up his brochure. "Hey, Chris, I might have a scholarship. That scout from L.A. said I was a shoo-in for the team." He mutters to himself. He snorts, folding the pamphlet and sticking it in his short's pocket. He'll tell Chris later, when the guy's not setting up a date that's kind of breaking Peter's heart even if he was the one who told Chris to do it. God, he's such an idiot.

Peter has a knack for making money and he's just sleazy enough not to worry about how he does it. Naturally, he becomes a stockbroker. It happens mostly on accident. He does it freelance at first since he's made quite a bit of money playing the stock market. Then a company hires him and suddenly he's some Wall Street up and comer. He thinks it's not bad for being in New York only three months.

It hits him at some point that he actually likes it. Not the stockbroking, though he enjoys that, but all of it. The New York atmosphere's wild and exciting and it's a nice change from Beacon Hills. He explores the city, making what he prefers to call contacts rather than friends. He's got a lovely apartment and a nice office and more money than he knows what to do with.

He sets up a trust fund for Malia. It's ridiculous since he can't give it to her without telling her he's her biological father, something he, at some point, committed himself to not doing. He still puts money in the account. There's enough in there to support her for years, but he's not sure any number of zeroes is going to make her accept him. He supposes he'll never know if he doesn't try, but another voice points out that he can't be let down if he doesn't try either, so he leaves it. He still gets her a Christmas present. He covers by buying gifts for the whole pack so she won't think anything of the coyote bracelet. This has the added bonus of allowing him to get something for Allison too. He sends her a boxset of Grey's Anatomy, which is another thing they bonded over. He's less thoughtful with the other gifts. He can't even remember half of them, which bugs him when he notices how big the box for Derek is.

He finds out later on Facebook that he apparently got Derek an extra fun, extra large Lego set. He learns this through Scott and Stiles, who have appropriated the gift for themselves since Derek's too much of a grump to appreciate Harry Potter Legos. Peter's not sure what he was thinking when he got the present, but he's glad someone's enjoying it.

Another surprise in Peter's new lifestyle is his Facebook. He got it on a whim, because it was less personal than talking to any of the pack over the phone or text. He expects them to ignore him, but he actually gets friended by all of them. Even Derek, whose account was created by Stiles as a joke. The teen had operated it for a month, creating inappropriate status reports and posting Derek's number until Derek found out and took over.

Peter catches up on the pack's lives through the social network. He sees pictures of Chris and Allison and tries not to let his heart break over lingering feelings. He moves on with his life and proves it through gratuitous selfies of him out and about. It's all very normal.

Peter actually starts to wonder if maybe he's in the clear. Then something happens to Allison.

Peter doesn't give it a second thought when he tells the company he has a family emergency and catches the next flight out to Beacon Hills. He doesn't pack or stop to change, he just goes to the airport in his suit and takes whatever seat they'll give him. He rents a car when he gets to the airport and drives quickly, heading for the hospital. He's not sure of the exact nature of Allison's accident, but they had to take her into the E.R. and Derek had sounded pretty panicked on the phone, which is a sign that things are definitely bad.

Peter's not in the best condition to be driving, but he doesn't pull over. He's a bit reckless, takes turns too quickly, but it gets him to the hospital faster. He parks haphazardly and runs for the entrance. The pack's in the waiting room. They look up in surprise when he rushes toward them. He bypasses everyone else and hones in on Chris, who's slumped in a chair with his head in his hands. He looks up at Peter with watery eyes. To the wolf's shock the hunter rises up and pulls him into a hug.

"How is she?" Peter asks, letting his arms curl around Chris' back.

"They got her out of the E.R. She's in the ICU now." He says.

Peter lets out a breath. He wants to ask if she'll live but he refrains. "What happened?" He asks after Chris pulls away.

"She was out with Malia." Derek speaks up. "They got separated and we found Allison in the woods unconscious. She lost a lot of blood."

"And Malia?" Peter asks.

The pack exchange nervous looks. "We're not sure what happened to her." Scott says, glancing at Stiles sympathetically.

Peter's jaw clenches. "Is she in danger?" He asks. He's not sure what the pack is after, but he doesn't like the idea of Malia out there after it. Or with it.

"We're not sure." Scott confesses. "We looked everywhere but she was just…gone."

Peter's fingers tremble by his side. He's about to protest, to say they should all be out looking for her anyway, but he realizes there are others in the pack with more stake in her welfare and if they're not objecting then he's sure they have good reason. He looks back at Chris and his stomach dips. He's at a loss for what to do. He doesn't deal well with waiting around in general, but standing around the hospital is especially bothersome. It brings back too many memories, too many years soiled by severe burns and extended medical treatment.

Peter fiddles with his tie, fighting the way it feels like it constricts around his throat and he steps away from the pack, not saying a word as he goes off to find the vending machines. That hallway's usually fairly empty and there's a coffee maker over there. He can grab something to drink, and try to compose himself. He's starting to doubt his own presence back in Beacon Hills and now that he's here he wishes he'd stayed in New York. Then he thinks of Allison and knows the interminable silence and awkwardness will be worth it once he knows she's alright. And once he's found Malia.

Peter grabs a cup of coffee and stares down the corridor. If he walks all the way to the end and takes a left he'll find his way back to his old room. He hears the beep of machines echo in the background and his hand shakes. It's an anxious tick he's developed lately, ever since the whole thing with Fake Chris. It's always his left palm, and he's not sure if there's any significance to it but he feels the hollow weight where Chris' ring should be. He clenches his fingers together, breathing in deep and trying to settle his nerves.

"You know, I don't think I've ever seen you in a suit." Chris says, sneaking up behind him.

Peter thinks he must be out of it if he couldn't sense the hunter coming. He tries to cover for his surprise, but he doesn't do a good job judging by Chris' slight eyebrow raise when he turns too quickly to look at him.

"Shouldn't you be in the waiting room?" Peter asks.

"I don't like sitting around. If someone learns something, they'll text me." Chris explains. "It looks good on you, by the way. The suit."

Peter's heart skips but he can't summon too much enthusiasm for the compliment, given the circumstances. His clothes are wrinkled and he feels overdressed as it is. He wishes he'd paused to pack something more appropriate.

"How are you?" Chris asks, when Peter takes too long to formulate a reply.

Peter snorts. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"Probably. But you're not." Chris points out. Peter realizes guiltily that the hunter's right. He hadn't thought to ask. It would have been an absurd question anyway. Chris' daughter is in the hospital, he's obviously not well. "So? How are you?"

"Generally speaking or right now?" Peter asks. He's stalling. It's not a question he feels terribly inclined to answer.

"Both." Chris says.

Peter sighs, contemplating.

He's happy, he thinks. Not at the moment, but back in New York he has a good life and he's fairly content. The heartbreak's lessened over time, but he still feels the ghost of his life with Chris on a daily basis. He's less haunted by memories than he would be in Beacon Hills, where familiar spots and locations hover on every corner. He'd have to avoid their restaurant or their grocery store or their bench or whatever else the Fake Chris had soiled for him. In New York it's all new, it's all his. It's a fresh start, even if he's brought all his old hurts into it. It's a change at the very least and he's making his mark somewhere in the world.

Shapeshifter Chris has been right about one thing – Peter did want to feel important. He has that over in the big apple. He doesn't feel like he has to scream so loud or work so hard just to get noticed, and there's no urge to plot or destroy. The ash in his lungs is covered by smog and the echo of fire isn't so potent. It's life and people without hunters or supernatural threats to come in and screw everything up. Peter's not sure how fulfilling it will be in the long run, but for the first time in a long time he feels like he's doing something right. He left. He did the one thing he's been too scared or trapped to do his whole life and there's freedom in that. He didn't self-destruct and he didn't take his anger out on anyone. He just gave himself a second chance.

Peter uses that as his driving force. Whenever he regrets moving or he thinks about going back to Chris and Beacon Hills, he reminds himself of all his bad choices and all his horrible deeds and he reels himself back in and focusses ahead. It doesn't make him a good man - he'll never be that - but he thinks he might be a better one.

"I'm managing." Peter says.

Chris nods. "Malia…" He starts, studying Peter. "We will find her." He says.

Peter frowns, stomach flipping. "That's not really my concern." He protests.

"Peter." Chris looks at him pointedly. "I know." He says.

Peter blinks. "Your confidence is reassuring, but-"

"Not that we'll find her." Chris clarifies. "I know that she's your daughter."

The wolf feels his world tilt. Chris always seems to do that to him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"She looks so much like you. I can see it in her face. And when you got her that bracelet for Christmas…"

Peter clenches his jaw. That was stupid. Of course Chris would have noticed something odd about that.

"I'm not going to say anything." The hunter promises him.

"But you think I should?" Peter asks.

"It doesn't really matter what I think." The other man replies.

What Chris doesn't realize is that it does. It shouldn't matter what he thinks, but it counts so greatly that Peter's thoughts suddenly feel incomplete without Chris' input. There's an empty space in his mind where he's waiting to fill Chris back into his life and it seems that much emptier at the hint that the man is now holding back from him.

There was a time when they used to talk about everything. Even when Peter reminds himself that last year was all Fake Chris, he still has memories from 20 years ago. He'd managed to store them way back in his mind for a while but they'd thawed out after the shapeshifter and they're a little frayed around the edges but no less fresh.

He feels confused and frustrated. He looks away, staring at the medical poster behind Chris and trying to bury all his thoughts under a casual demeanor.

"How long are you staying?" Chris asks.

Peter glances at him in surprise. "I hadn't really planned on anything."

"It's a bit late to get a hotel." Chris says. "You can sleep in the guestroom?" He offers hopefully.

Peter's doubtful, but he pictures Chris going back to that empty apartment, worrying over his daughter, and he nods. "Okay."

May 27th, 1989

Chris goes to prom with Cindy. Peter goes to prom with her friend Miranda, who's surprisingly nice, but smells a bit off, like dog but not quite. They travel in Chris' Cadillac and head into the gymnasium, where colored streamers and balloons have been set out. A disco ball hangs on the ceiling and rock music plays from the speakers up on the stage. It's pretty much what Peter imagined prom would be.

Chris and Peter go to get their dates punch and the wolf glances at the blond, who's face is twisted in a frown.

"You okay?" Peter asks.

Chris looks up quickly, dropping the creases from his brow. "Yeah, fine." He says, eyes not quite meeting Peter's. The smell of deception is only confirmation of what Peter already knows. Chris is lying to him. He's been distant for weeks now and Peter knows something's off, but he can't figure out what. He think sit might be the teen's dad. He knows Gerard's been riding Chris pretty hard. Peter's feeling uneasy, but he comforts himself with the knowledge that in only about two months, they'll both be on their way out of here. They already have the date set and everything. July 17th and they're both free. They have their acceptance letters to the University of California and they've saved quite a bit of money, so it's just a matter of riding out the next two months. Peter wishes they could go sooner, but Chris wants to hang around for Kate's 7th birthday.

Peter lets the lie sit between them and grabs a glass of punch for Miranda. He sniffs it curiously, cringing at the sickly sweet, chemical scent and opting out of any for himself. He heads back, following Chris in silence and feeling about a million miles of separation between them.

Chris has trouble settling all evening. He fidgets at the table before taking Cindy out onto the dance floor, holding her close and swaying to the music. Peter watches them for a little while before turning his attention to Miranda.

"Do you want to dance?" He asks.

Miranda shrugs. "I'm not really a big dancer." She says. Peter nods.

"Me neither." He says, hoping to dispel the awkwardness with a little honesty. It doesn't quite work and a pause falls between them.

"Sooo…" Miranda says. "You're a werewolf."

Peter's eyes widen and he looks at her sharply.

"My mom's an emissary." Miranda shrugs. "Pack of coyotes on the other side of town."

Peter nods. That explains the smell.

"You know Argent's a hunter, right?" Miranda asks curiously, gesturing at where the blond's gripping Cindy's waist.

"Yeah." Peter says.

"He know about you?"

Peter hesitates.

"That's a yes, then." Miranda guesses. "You trust him?"

Peter narrows his eyes and leans in closer. "Why exactly did you come tonight?" He asks.

Miranda grins and shakes her head. "Couldn't pass up a date with a Hale, could I?" She says. "And the pack's been worried."

"So you're checking up on the Argents?"

"Something like that."

"And here I thought you were interested." Peter says. Miranda snorts.

"Night's still young." Miranda says.

Peter smirks. "So how exactly do you get a werecoyote?" He asks curiously.

Miranda shrugs. "Same way you get a were-anything. The bite." She answers.

Peter nods. "What would happen if a coyote and a wolf had a baby?"

Miranda raises her eyebrows. "You're a little young for kids."

Peter sneers. "Humor me."

Miranda crinkles her eyebrows, thinking. "I'm not actually sure. I guess you'd get a hybrid, maybe. I mean, it's all genetics, right? So you could have a wolf or a coyote or a human or a wolf-slash-coyote." She says.

Peter nods. "Does Talia know about your pack?" He asks. He hasn't heard of them.

"Maybe." Miranda says, expression guarded.

"But you don't work with her?" Peter says.

"No." Miranda answers quickly. Peter looks at her questioningly and Miranda sighs. "Look, I'm not supposed to say anything." She says quietly, watching him with a conflicted expression.

"Pack secrets." Peter says, understanding.

"Yeah." Miranda answers.

Peter looks out at the dance floor, spotting Chris and Cindy in the crowd. It's a slow song and each soft movement together has Peter's gut twisting uncomfortably. "You wanna get out of here?" Peter asks Miranda.

"Argent's our ride." She points out.

"There's a field outside." Peter says. "They just got Lacrosse equipment and I've been meaning to try it out."

Miranda grins. "I'm so gonna kick your ass." She says.

Peter beams at the challenge. "Wouldn't be so sure about that." He says.

"Have you ever even played this game?" Miranda asks, smirking at Peter under the stadium lights. Her heels have been discarded on the side of the field and her dress is streaked with dirt and grass stains, but she doesn't seem to mind. They've been at it for almost an hour now and Peter's sweating through his button up. He holds his stick aloft and pants.

"I have not." He says.

"It shows." Miranda smirks, tossing the ball into her basket with ease.

Peter rolls his eyes but doesn't take any hits to his pride. He's having a lot more fun here than he was in the gymnasium anyway, so he doesn't mind losing, especially to Miranda who's a beast at Lacrosse. Peter can't make heads or tails of the game, but she's scored a phenomenal amount of goals, so he knows she's good. Peter tilts his head and hears the announcement for the last song. They've already crowned the King and Queen – Chris and Cindy, which Peter resolutely doesn't care about – and the night's coming to an end.

"Prom will be over soon." Peter points out.

Miranda nods and they move off the field, putting the equipment away and sitting down on the bleachers.

"Your dress is ruined." Peter notes as Miranda leans back against the seats. She hums, not caring.

"It's cool." She says. "I had fun, you know?" She says, looking at him.

Peter nods, smiling softly. "Me too." He admits, surprised. It was set to be a pretty terrible evening, but he actually enjoyed himself.

"Not your typical prom experience." Miranda notes.

"No."

Miranda leans up, studying him. "You don't have some hotel room reserved, do you?" She asks suspiciously.

Peter snorts. "The evening didn't go that well."

Miranda smirks. "I don't know. It was pretty good for me."

Peter blinks at her. "You trying to get in my pants?" He asks.

"Depends, you a good kisser?" She asks.

Peter glances down at her lips uncertainly. He's sure Chris has kissed Cindy, but he's never asked. They haven't really talked about how this arrangement works. "I do okay." Peter says.

"Modesty, I like it." She says, smiling softly.

Peter leans in, mouth connecting with hers. They've just barely brushed lips when a "Peter?" rings out over the field. Peter pulls back, looking over Miranda's shoulder and looking at Chris and Cindy appearing around the bleachers, their crowns sitting on their head and their hands clasped together.

Miranda groans in disappointment and turns.

"Oh my god." Cindy says, staring at the state of their clothes. Chris is watching Peter, a look of slight betrayal on his face. Peter shrugs and stands up, offering a hand to Miranda. "You can't get in the car like that." Cindy says as they walk over, pausing to collect Miranda's shoes and Peter's jacket.

"We can walk." Peter says. "My house isn't that far, I could borrow a car and take you home." He says.

"No." Chris protests. "It's fine."

Peter stares at the look on Chris' face and is slightly disappointed. He really doesn't want to be around Chris right now, it makes him uneasy. He's not scared, necessarily, but the tension is draining and Peter would rather focus on the one bright spot of the evening. He can handle Chris being with Cindy, but he can't handle how distant the guy's gotten. Even his kisses are colder.

"Oh, thanks." Miranda says, glancing between Peter and Chris curiously. "You guys go ahead, we'll catch up."

Chris and Cindy depart reluctantly and Peter hangs back, looking at Miranda questioningly. He thinks the mood's dropped too much for kissing, if that's what she's angling for.

"Look, I wasn't gonna say anything, but...well, I trust you." She says, staring intently at Peter.

Peter frowns. "Pack secret?" He asks.

"Yeah." Miranda says. She leans in closer, placing her mouth near his ear. "We have a seer." She whispers. "We asked him about your pack and the Argents. He said all he could see was bloodshed and betrayal and ash." She pulls back, looking at him earnestly. "Chris is bad news."

"He's not like them." Peter says. "He's not a hunter."

"You better hope not." Miranda says.

Peter glances in the distance, at the beige Cadillac. "We should go."

Miranda nods. "Peter." She says quietly. "Don't tell Talia."

Peter frowns. "Why not?" He asks.

"She'll make you forget." Miranda answers.

"She wouldn't…" Peter mutters, shaking his head.

"She always makes people forget things." Miranda says. "You should remember tonight. Remember me."

Peter doesn't understand.

"Trust me, Peter." Miranda says, holding his wrist. "Please."

Peter nods uncertainly. They head back to the car and he eyes Chris cautiously.

Allison's in a coma, but she's stable.

They've been waiting in the hospital for hours and the moon's high in the sky by the time they learn anything. It's too late for Chris to visit her, but Mrs. McCall takes him back anyway. Peter waits out in the hallway, slouching in a chair and leaning his head back against the wall. His jacket is on the armrest beside him with his tie shoved in the pocket. His sleeves are rolled up, allowing a nice breeze over his forearms, and the top three fastens of his dress shirt are undone, exposing the top of his undershirt and letting his chest breathe. He likes the suits at work, but wearing one all day has proven constricting. He debates undoing his suspenders too, but they add an air of sophistication to his rumpled appearance and he's afraid if he removes them he'll look more pathetic than artfully shabby.

Peter's eyes are closed and he's wondering if he should get a pet when he gets back to New York. A dog would be too much hassle with his work schedule, but he could get a cat. A werewolf with a feline is probably a weird combination, but he's always gotten along quite well with cats. Their narcissism and aloofness fit nicely with his. There's the poop to consider though. Maybe he'll just get a fish. He can keep it in his office and have his secretary take care of it. He makes a mental note to call Mark later and have him go to the pet store.

Peter looks up when the door to Allison's room creaks open. Chris steps out, eyes red and puffy. Peter's fingers itch to reach out toward him but he holds back.

"How is she?" Peter asks.

"She'll pull through." Chris says with a shuddering breath. "But she might be out for a while. She lost a lot of blood and it looks like she hit her head. It'll take some time to recover."

Peter's heart clenches. He wants to see her, but he doesn't ask to. It's not his place.

They leave the hospital and head to Peter's rental. Chris came here in the car with Derek so he doesn't have his vehicle with him. Peter drives them back to the Argents' and is surprised when he has trouble remembering the way. It makes him realize just how big of a distance has grown between them.

The memories come crashing back when he steps into the apartment though. It looks the same as how he left it. The spaces where his stuff used to be have been filled in with Chris and Allison's things, but otherwise it's pretty much identical. Peter's breath gusts out of him when he notices his key still on the table. There's no dust, so he knows they've been cleaning, but somehow they felt it necessary to leave it.

"You remember where the guestroom is?" Chris asks.

Peter nods. He looks over at the hunter and feels his stomach dip when he sees the way the man's watching him. Blue eyes stray down to Peter's clothes and he hears the way Chris' pulse speeds up.

It would be foolish to do anything. Chris' daughter is in the hospital and Peter knows the hunter is probably hungry for companionship more than he is aroused. It's a distressing situation and it would be easy to fall prey to the rush of hormones and the lingering tension between them.

"You look good like that." Chris says quietly before stepping away. "You should dress like that more often."

Peter thinks he can guess the meaning behind the words. Chris wants to see him like this in other circumstances, when Allison's not in the hospital and Malia's not missing and Peter's here because he wants to be. Peter doesn't let himself hope that it'll happen someday. He vowed that he'd stop clinging onto Chris as a possibility. Even if he hadn't, he's still having trouble reconciling his relationship with Shapeshifter Chris and his relationship with the real one. He finds himself wondering if this even is the real one. Maybe it's another shapeshifter.

Peter shakes himself out of that thought. "I didn't bring any other clothes, so you're in luck." Peter says to Chris.

"You can borrow mine."

Peter should have expected the offer but he didn't. It sends warmth racing through him. He'll smell like Chris, he'll be wrapped up in his clothes and his scent and it's already filling his nose as it is. The whole apartment is coated with the hunter, heady and intoxicating and feeling exactly like home.

Peter follows Chris, staring from the doorway into what used to be their room. Chris' aroma has filled in the other side of the bed, erasing any trace of Peter that might have been left. Both of the pillows are ruffled, evidence that Peter no longer has a space reserved for him there. He thinks back to his own bed in New York. He's been sleeping on one side, habitually leaving room for the hunter.

With a lump in his throat, the wolf takes the sweats and v-neck offered to him. He retires hastily to the guestroom and closes the door behind him, taking a deep breath and trying to calm himself down.

Peter stares up at the ceiling, dissecting the textured plaster in lieu of sleeping. His hands are laced together under his head and the blanket is intact beneath him. Past changing into Chris' clothes and laying down he hasn't made any particular effort to get comfortable. It's hard to relax when he feels an odd mixture of emotions coiling in his gut.

He never slept in the guest room of the Argents' apartment before. There's nothing of him in here, no memories attached. It's just a room adjacent to his past life and he can't quite figure out how he feels about it.

It's been months since he's seen Chris is person. It's been months since he's been in Chris' home and the longing he's kept at bay is slamming through him in waves. He wants to be with the hunter. He wants to be next to him, under him, on top of him. He wants to kiss him, to feel his scruff framing the skin around Peter's mouth.

The wolf blinks his eyes closed and feels the tingle on his lips. He half-remembers what Chris' mouth feels like against his own, and the ghost of it teases across sensitive pink flesh, making his heart hammer and his lungs freeze. The smell of the hunter swirls around him and Peter thinks he's going mad. He can feel his instincts rising up in response to the aroma and the close presence of the hunter and his body shakes. He pushes himself out of bed, walking over to the window and forcing it open. He leans his head outside, gasping in the cool night air as he tries to clear his head. It February, so it's freezing. He can feel goosebumps break out over his skin, but he doesn't pay it much mind. He sucks in the air gratefully, leaning out of the opening and trying to get a hold of himself.

It works marginally. It at least keeps Peter from going over to Chris' bedroom so he can throw himself at the hunter. He's not sure if the problem is that he hasn't had sex in months, but he thinks he'd still be having trouble maintaining control even if he had. Even with Allison in the hospital and his confusion about his feelings, Chris has a way of reeling Peter in. He doesn't have to do anything, his presence is enough to have Peter completely wrapped up in him.

It's bewildering and intense.

Peter leans his head against the windowsill and sighs. He's not going to be able to stay for very long if this is how it's going to be. There's a knock at the door and Peter looks up quickly, left hand trembling at his side.

"Peter?" Chris asks softly.

"I'm awake." Peter says.

The hunter pushes the door open, slipping inside. He's dressed in pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. Peter swallows thickly.

"I can turn the heater down." Chris says, looking at the open window.

Peter's face heats. "I just wanted some fresh air." He explains quietly.

"Oh." Chris mutters. He looks at Peter's bed curiously then back at the wolf. "I, uh, couldn't sleep." He says.

"Me neither." Peter replies. He clenches his fingers at his side, trying to stop the shaking. He feels emotions squirm around inside of him, making him dizzy.

"Peter." Chris says, taking a small step toward him. "Look, we're both adults so I'm just gonna ask point blank – do you want to have sex?"

Peter blinks at him before letting out a small, incredulous laugh. "Now?" He asks. "You know your daughter's in the hospital right?"

"No, I forgot." Chris says sarcastically. "What am I supposed to do? Sit on my ass and wait? It won't make me feel better and then you'll be gone again and I'll be left wanting you just as much as I ever have."

Peter chews his lip, considering. He grabs the hem of Chris' borrowed shirt and pulls it over his head. "Yes." He says. He expects Chris to start stripping too but the hunter advances forward and curves his palm around the back of Peter's head, pulling the wolf forward into a kiss. Peter's eyes flutter shut and he melts into it. His hands still at the waistband of his sweats and his chest floods with warmth. It's a simple connection, but it makes everything fall into place.

Peter's palms move to grip at the man's waist and he presses forward, caressing Chris' lips with his own. Calloused fingers move down to stroke at Peter's bared torso and his abs twitch under the man's touch. He slips his hands under the hem of Chris' shirt, raking his nails over the hair under Chris' belly button. The hunter gasps, pulling Peter against him and deepening the kiss.

Peter's not sure if he should take charge or not. Usually Chris guides him, pushing him down and taking him over the edge. The hunter's emotionally fragile at the moment, though, and he's leaning into Peter with a desperate sort of longing, seeking companionship. The wolf thinks it might be his turn to take control of things. He's not sure if that means he gets to top or not. He doesn't ask.

Chris maneuvers them over to the bed and they fall onto the sheets.

Peter's woken up at five in the morning by his cell phone. He groans, fumbling over the nightstand to grab it. He reaches to his right automatically, which results in him grabbing at Chris' face on accident.

The hunts groans, swatting his fingers away, and Peter remembers that he's not in New York. He doesn't apologize, because he's Peter Hale and he doesn't do that. He groans noncommittally at Chris' protest and moves to the right, retrieving his phone.

"What?" He growls into the receiver.

"Good morning to you too." His assistant says from the other end.

Peter sighs. "Mark. It's 5 am."

"It's 8 here. And you have some pretty unhappy clients."

"I'm on vacation." Peter grouses. Chris blinks an eye open, glaring at him.

"Family emergency right? Everything alright?" Mark asks.

Peter gets out of bed at Chris' insistence. "I'm going, I'm going." He mutters. "Go back to sleep."

"What?" Mark asks.

"Not you."

"Is someone there with you?" Mark asks in interest, latching onto the scent of gossip.

"No, I just like to talk to myself."

"Who is she?" Mark asks. "Or is it a he? Or a them? Or a person of non-preferred gender identification?"

"Mark, shut up." Peter growls, pushing out of the bedroom.

"An old flame perhaps? I can see it now. You return home and reunite with a past lover." Mark sighs dreamily.

Peter rolls his eyes, sneering at his phone. Mark's always been insufferably cheerful about everything. He practically writes odes to Mindy in accounting. He's a good secretary though, much to Peter's annoyance.

"Why did you call me?" Peter bites out, getting Mark back on track.

"The Sander's stock has fallen five points. Everyone wants to sell." Mark says.

Peter huffs. He goes into Chris' study, hoping the computer password is still the same. He feels a wave of nostalgia when he types it in and gets into Chris' account. He tries to bury the feeling and focus on his work.

Peter reads up on the stocks, listening idly to Mark on the other end. A phone rings insistently in the background, all of Peter's clients calling in a panic over the fall in their shares. The wolf rolls his eyes.

"That was Marsters. He wants to sell too." Mark says.

Peter sighs. "Tell everyone it's going to go back up."

"What if they don't believe me?"

"Mark. It's going to go back up."

A voice speaks quietly in the background.

"Mr. Sanders is here. He wants to talk to you." It's Peter's boss.

The wolf huffs, standing up from Chris' desk chair and pacing the floor as he tries to convince his superior he didn't just blunder some major investments. He walks over the carpet in endless cycles, trying to calm Mr. Sanders down. The man also bought some shares on Peter's recommendation and the wolf's going to be in big trouble if it doesn't work out.

He tries to stay quiet but he guesses he fails, because after twenty minutes a tired Chris pushes the door open, peering in at him curiously. His hair's ruffled from sleep and his pajamas are wrinkled. Peter can smell the remnants of their night time activities and his pupils dilate slightly. He almost misses Mr. Sanders talking to him. He gets back on track, continuing to argue with his superior as he watches Chris out of his periphery.

His boss finally clams down and hands the phone off to Mark.

"I hope you know what you're doing." His assistant says.

Peter rolls his eyes again. "Just get back to work. And don't call me unless it's an emergency. I mean it." He orders, hanging up.

"Problems?" Chris asks.

Peter collapses in the chair, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration. "Work." He explains. "I have unhappy investors. A stock's dropped five points."

"I don't know what that means, but it sounds bad." Chris says, approaching him.

"Five percent drop in value." Peter says offhandedly. "Now everyone wants to sell off."

"Wouldn't you?" Chris asks, putting his hands on Peter's tense shoulders. The wolf frowns a little in confusion but doesn't stop the hunter when he starts to rub the stiffness out. He's not sure why Chris is doing it, and he thinks he ought to protest but he leans in instead.

"I would. But it's a scam." He says, closing his eyes and sighing at the ease with which Chris works out the knots. "The company's releasing a big product. If they scare a lot of investors into selling off, the major shareholders will make more money off their stocks once the product's out on the market. They're swindling people out of money."

"Isn't there a law against that?"

"Probably." Peter snorts.

"So you're convincing people not to sell? How very noble."

"Not really. I'll make a lot of money off this."

"You're doing pretty well for yourself." Chris says, voice a mix of admiration and sadness.

Peter looks back at him softly. "I suppose." He replies. He's got everything, but he'd trade it all for Chris. He realizes how dangerous that thought process is. He left Beacon Hills to get away from all this and here he is, ready to throw it all away to be with Chris again. It's destructive and he knows it will only leave him heartbroken, but he can't seem to stop it.

"Allison's been looking at colleges." Chris says.

Peter turns and Chris' releases his shoulders, leaning back against the desk. Peter places his thighs on either side of Chris' legs, relaxing into the chair and watching the hunter.

"She's thinking about going to one in New York."

Peter's stomach dips. "Is she?" He asks, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"Spring Break's coming up. We were thinking of taking a trip so she could tour some of the campuses." Chris says. "Maybe we could visit you?"

"Stay at the apartment." Peter offers instead.

"You sure?" Chris asks.

Peter nods. "Hotels are expensive. And I have plenty of room."

Chris lips twitch. "Okay." He says. "I'll let you know the dates."

"Good."

There's a pause as they watch each other.

"I should go get ready." Chris says. "Visiting hours start soon."

Peter watches the hunter leave, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. He'll be seeing Chris again in March. It's not far off. He tries to stifle the hope that blooms in him. He strokes his fingers over his left hand, feeling the empty space where Chris' ring used to be. His hand's steady, he realizes. Being around Chris has calmed him. He feels content and it's terrifying.

Peter goes with Chris to the hospital. He stands in the hall, watching through the window as Chris approaches his daughter. Allison hugs her dad and Peter sighs, feeling more and more like an outside as the seconds pass. He's always been one, but if he and Chris had gotten married like they were supposed to, he might be a bit more okay with it. Allison's eyes flash in his direction, spotting him. Peter steps back, wondering if he ought to sit and wait or head out. He still needs to look for Malia.

Peter's retreating when the door opens behind him.

"Peter." Chris says. The wolf stops walking and looks back. "She wants to see you."

Peter's eyebrows raise. "Oh." He says, caught off-guard. He tucks his hands in his pockets and heads back. Chris moves to the hall and holds the door open. Peter slips past him and the door shuts, leaving him alone with Allison.

"Hey." Allison says, voice soft and hoarse.

"Hey." Peter says, moving closer. "How are you feeling?" He asks. She looks pale and fragile in her hospital bed. It makes Peter angry and scared and protective, emotions he hasn't felt for other people in quite a while.

"Awesome." Allison mutters. "You?"

Peter shrugs. "I didn't get stabbed." He says.

Allison snorts then cringes, bringing a hand to her abdomen. Peter steps forward on instinct, reaching out toward her.

"Can I?" He asks, his palm poised over her arm.

Allison nods, holding her wrist out. He takes it gently and concentrates. Black veins moves up his arm and he clenches his jaw, powering through the pain he's sucking away. Allison sighs, relaxing against the bed.

"Better than morphine." Peter says when he steps back.

"Thanks." Allison whispers. Peter nods. Silence falls on them and Peter watches her, taking in the way her blinks lengthen, sleep hovering just at the edges. She shakes herself out of it and looks at him curiously. "You and my dad…" She starts. "Are you-?"

"We're not back together." Peter says. "I'm just visiting."

Allison nods. "He told me about you and him. High school sweethearts." She mutters, quoting the Fake Chris' words.

"Like you and Scott." Peter says.

Allison smiles softly at the reminder. "You were supposed to run away together." She notes.

Peter's jaw ticks and he looks away, staring at the curtains. "Yeah." He breathes.

"Why'd you stay?" She asks.

Peter sighs. "Even I'm prone to romantic illusions." He says.

"You were waiting for him." Allison notes.

"I suppose I was."

"Why?" She asks.

Peter frowns, thinking. He tries to pull the memory up but can't quite reach it. "I guess I thought he'd come back." He mutters.

"Did you ever give up hope?" She asks and Peter's starting to suspect this is more about Scott than him and Chris. Peter thinks back, sure he did. The harder the tries to remember, the fuzzier it all gets. He lifts a hand, massaging his temple. "Peter?" Allison asks.

July 18th 1989

It's 3 in the morning. Peter sneaks into the mansion through the backway. The entrance to his basement room is near the rear exit, so it's a short tiptoe across the hallway and then he pushes the door open, careful not to let it creak. In the darkness, he descends down the staircase, hurrying to his room. He's already got a backpack packed under his bed, with his ID and an emergency stash of money. He wasn't going to leave till the fall, after he worked everything out with Talia and his college paperwork, but he's moving everything ahead of schedule. Chris was the only reason he hung around any longer anyway and now that Chris has left him, Peter's got no real reason to stay, so he might as well head out.

Peter goes to his bedside, not even bothering to turn on the lamp as he reaches under the mattress, feeling along the floor for his backpack. He frowns when he doesn't find it. He always kept it there. He turns on the lamp after that and ransacks his room, looking everywhere for the bag. When it doesn't turn up, he looks for any form of ID or money he has on him. He keeps a piggy bank and a box with money in it, so he searches for those and his passport. He doesn't find it either.

There's a creak on the staircase and Peter looks up, watching Talia come into view.

"Looking for this?" Talia asks, holding up his emergency backpack.

"That's mine." Peter steps toward her and Talia pulls the bag back, clearly having no intention of giving it to him.

"Your money and your passport's locked away safe." Talia assures him and Peter frowns.

"What do you mean?" He asks.

Talia's giving him this look, half-sympathetic and half-resigned.

"You can't keep me here." Peter says, stomach twisting uncomfortably with suspicion.

"Peter…" Talia starts.

Peter gapes at her in horrified realization. "You can't keep me here!" He insists more strongly. "I'm 18, I'm going to college."

"No, Peter." Talia says. She lets out a slow breath, steadying herself. "I know about you and that hunter…"

Peter falters. "It's over, he…we're done." He explains quietly.

"You put my family in danger. You put yourself in danger." Talia says.

"So kick me out." Peter begs, desperate. "Let me go, or I swear to god, I will do everything I can to destroy this family."

Talia's face hardens. "I'm sure you'll try." She says. "But I can't let you go, Peter. You're…a liability."

"A liability?" Peter echoes in disgust. "I've bent over backwards for those stupid kids. Kids that I don't even like. It's my chance to go. It's my chance to leave this shithole. I'm taking it."

"I contacted the college." Talia says. "And withdrew you."

"You had no right-"

"You could have killed all of us!" Talia shouts, eyes flashing red. "I told you to be careful. You promised me you would be and you weren't. He could use anything you told him to destroy all of us."

"He wouldn't do that." Peter protests.

"Wouldn't he? He's a hunter, Peter. They're all hunters." Talia snarls. "And you let him into your life. Into our lives. I won't stand for it."

"So what are you going to do, kill me?" Peter asks.

"No. I'm going to watch you."

Peter thinks he'd prefer death. "You can't do this. Talia, please don't do this. I just want to leave. I swear, if you just let me leave, I'll stay away…"

Talia shakes her head. "I'm sorry, Peter. But I can't trust you."

"If I'm gone it doesn't matter!" Peter snarls, stepping toward her threateningly.

"And if something happens to you?" Talia asks. "I can't protect you like that Peter."

"I don't want your protection!"

"But you need it."

Peter shakes his head. "No, Talia, I don't. And you can't stop me from leaving."

"I can try." Talia promises.

Peter sees Deaton coming down behind her and frowns in confusion. "What?" He asks.

Deaton has mountain ash in his palm. It's then that Peter notices the line, spreading around his room. It's not completed yet, coming up on each side of the bottom step. His eyes widen in terror as Deaton tips a vial, finishing the square.

"No!" He roars, dashing forward. He comes up against the ash barrier and glares at his sister, eyes leaking horrified, frustrated tears and lips trembling. "You can't do this to me Talia! I won't rot away in this goddamn town! I'M SUPPOSED TO BE LEAVING!"

Talia turns, following Deaton up the staircase and Peter howls, pushing against the mountain ash and sobbing.

"It wasn't supposed to be like this." He wails, collapsing on the floor. He spears his claws into the wood, tearing at it as he weeps into the boards.

"I'm fine." Peter says, waving off Allison's concern. He still can't reach it, whatever memory's sitting in there, but he gives up. He's used to blank spots at this point. He sometimes wonders just how much Talia took.

December 11th, 1993

Peter sits at the bar, some seedy dive on the edge of town. There's no point to it, since he can't get drunk, but he likes the burn of whiskey and the dismal atmosphere. It suits him.

"Peter?"

Peter looks back, spotting a woman about his age. She watches him with a surprised, guarded expression. Peter frowns, confused. She smells like dog and the hair on the back of his neck prickles.

"Yeah?" He asks.

"You don't remember me, do you?" She asks.

Peter waits expectantly.

"I'm Miranda. We went to prom together." She says.