Alone

I had two days of almost perfect bliss. There was a soft bed to sleep in, plenty of food to eat, and incredible sex. Peter had been patient, waiting until I was finally ready and was now reaping the benefits. Hell, I was reaping too at every opportunity.

On the third day I woke with a scratch in the back of my throat, just the smallest of itches. I didn't let it stop me from kissing Peter awake. He was ticklish down his side, I had discovered, and licking and nipping my way down the smooth line of his side, taking my time as I reached each rise of rib to kiss and taste his skin, was becoming my favorite morning ritual.

Peter moved with a speed that defied human logic. He shouldn't be able to go from wiggling and twitching under my hands and teeth to on top of me, legs straddling my hips and hands pinning my wrists to the bed in less time it took me to gasp out his name.

"Peter!"

"What did I tell you about tickling me?"

"That I better be prepared to pay for it later. Is it later yet?" I let my hips roll upward brushing along the inside of his thigh until we were pressed together. "I definitely think it's later." I tried to capture his lips with my own from my prone position but Peter stayed teasingly out of reach until I practically begged.

I splayed my legs out in blatant invitation, undulating under him in the hopes of finding some friction against his body. Peter let me stew in frustrated sexual need for a couple of seconds before taking mercy on me and kissing me senseless. By the time my brain came back on-line he was deep within me and thrusting wildly.

"Come for me, Stiles." He panted. "Come for me now." Yeah, he didn't have to tell me twice. I came. I came completely apart and if he hadn't held me tight as the tremors shot through my body I think I would have dissipated into a million pieces.

I covered my secret declaration by biting into his shoulder but his stupid werewolf hearing picked up on something. "What did you say?" His eyes were serious as he leaned over me, his thumb brushing across my cheekbone.

I couldn't lie but I couldn't bear to tell the truth. So I settled for the next best thing; A Truth. Not THE Truth but something close enough. "You're it for me, you know. There will never be anyone else."

Peter pulled back minutely. If I hadn't been pressed skin to skin with him I would never had noticed. His eyes registered shock for a brief second before he washed it away with humor and sarcasm. "Of course I'm it for you. I'm just surprised it took you so long to realize it." He smiled and kissed me before getting out of bed. "I'm going to try to made biscuits with the flour and powdered milk I found. Prepare to be amazed."

I didn't let it hurt me. I had known that my feelings were a one way street only. At least with his gentle let down I could still pretend. Throwing off the covers I got dressed in a bit of a daze not even feeling the bitter chill in the air, it matched the ache in my chest.

The biscuits were done by the time I left the room. They were fluffy and tasted divine with a spoonful of raspberry jam that Peter had managed to find on one of his trips into town. I ate in relative silence, for me that is, and then gathered the tins to wash.

From the corner of my eye I watched as Peter started to say something, mouth open to let the soundless words escape, only to pull back and stop each time. I couldn't stand there and watch him try to come up with a way to let me down easily.

"I'm going to go say hi to Pepper and the herd." Grabbing my coat and tossing a wave and a smile over my shoulder I hurried out the door to find my four hoofed friend.

Peter found me later at the horseshoe pit that had slowly emerged as the snow melted away. Pepper stood at my shoulder as I tossed the horseshoes across the short distance toward the iron stake at the other pit. It hit the dirt and rolled, clinking softly as it came to rest. Pepper snorted as if he was criticizing my form and followed me as I went to pick up the horseshoes for another round.

"Can I join the two of you?" I handed over the set of horseshoes without saying a word. Peppercorn laid back his ears and bared his teeth in Peter's direction. Peter, in a show of werewolf maturity, let his eyes flash red and bared his own fanged teeth. Pepper snorted a wet haze of mule breath in response.

I ignored the elephant in the room and played horseshoes with my werewolf and grumpy mule until the sun was high in the sky. The low rumble of my stomach was our cue to stop for the day and eat some lunch.

It's amazing how fast you can go downhill. I was fine during the game, depressed and pissed, but otherwise okay. By the time lunch was finished my head was pounding and I could barely keep my eyes open, bright flashes of light bursting into pain laced arrows that stabbed into my mind.

"You should go lie down," Peter suggested as I tilted alarmingly to the side of my chair. He led me to the room, tucked me under the covers and pulled the small curtain to block the light before sitting down next to me. "You're hot." His hand raked through my sweat damped hair. "I've never really spent that much time with humans. I knew you could get sick but I've never had to deal with it. I don't know what to do."

"Just a cold," I wheezed. "I'll chug some Nyquil and it will be fine." I totally ignored the fact that we didn't have any Nyquil or anything else and rolled over, pulling the covers up over my head.

Peter stayed there for a while stroking my back in silence. I was mostly asleep when he left, just aware enough to notice the shift in the mattress before I feel into a dream filled sleep.

I tossed and turned, fever soaked and nightmare filled, for the rest of the afternoon and all through the night. Peter was there, cool rags pressed to my face and chest, his worried mummers filling my ears but never registering as words. My world had narrowed to the pain in my head and the labor of getting enough air through stuffed nasal passages and a mucus filled chest.

There was no spill of morning light to wake me and I slept until the pressure of my bladder along with the emptiness of my stomach drove me into conciseness. After visiting the modified bathroom that Peter had fixed, I made my way to the small kitchen. There were a few left over biscuits wrapped in cloth that I devoured.

Looking around, I noticed for the first time how quiet the bunkhouse had become. "Peter," I called out the front door only to be cut off by my own coughing as my body tried its best to hack up one of my lungs. I was hanging onto the door frame, my weak knees refusing to support my full weight, by the time I was finished. Peppercorn stood at the edge of the porch with a curious expression on his mulish face.

"Hey Pep. Where's the big bad wolf?" Peppercorn flicked an ear in my direction and then away. Sliding my feet into the boots left on the front step and wrapping my coat around me I staggered out onto the front lawn. "Peter!" I called again. "Peter?" The fear I felt made my voice sound high and tight. "Peter!" I cried one more time before collapsing onto the steps.

He had kept his end of the bargain and I, finally, had kept my end as well. I was alive, fed, and someplace safe and Peter had gotten what he wanted. There was no need for him to continue to tie himself down to an overly talkative, hyper human.

Peppercorn rested his nose on the top of my head while I cried.