The floorboards creaked under Peter's feet as he entered the crumbling shell of his family home. Under his arm, wrapped in a pilfered towel, was the piping-hot container Stiles had given him.

"Hello, Derek," he murmured, fussing with a fold of the towel in favor of looking at the Alpha atop the staircase.

He continued on into the charred former den and settled himself at the rotting desk, unwinding the towel from the plastic dish.

Derek slunk into the room and leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Got an interesting phone call from Scott tonight," he said, watching as Peter opened the lid.

"Did you, now?" Peter said, flatly. He looked supremely unconcerned, spearing the steaming casserole.

"He's sixteen, Peter."

"I'm aware of that." Peter took a bite and groaned, his eyes fluttering. "Absolutely delicious," he said around his mouthful. "I'll have to remember to ask for the recipe. Would you like to try it?" he asked, gesturing to it with his fork.

Derek gave him a hard look. "He doesn't know what he's getting into."

Chuckling softly, Peter gathered another bite. "You'd be surprised. I think he knows exactly what he's getting into. But it is touching how concerned you are for him, seeing as he's not in your pack."

"I'm not—"

"But he could be," Peter overrode. "It's a wonder that you haven't. Made him pack, I mean. You went out of your way to draw in the outcasts of Beacon Hills High, deliberately passing over the one teen there that would have had 'informed consent'— not to mention better control over himself from the start. Did you know that he coached Scott through his werewolf baby-steps? That's probably the most interesting thing I gleaned from Scott's mind: that a human trained him how to be a werewolf."

Derek glowered at him from the door way.

"Hmm…but I'm sure you did your best," Peter relented, taking another bite.

"I did consider him," came moments later while Peter chewed. At his uncle's skeptical glance, Derek turned defiant. "I did. But he's too loyal to Scott. It would have been more effort that he's worth— and that's even if he would have agreed in the first place."

"Excuses," Peter muttered, playing with a noodle. "You could have bit him anyway. Still could."

Snorting derisively, Derek rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Remind me how well that worked out with Scott."

Peter looked up sharply. "To compare Stiles with Scott is neither accurate nor fair. I didn't think I needed to explain that to you."

Huffing in aggravation, Derek pushed off the doorframe, taking a seat in a batter chair several feet away from Peter.

Silence reigned for a minute or two while Peter ate, willfully ignoring the relentless glare Derek was focusing on him. Finally, rolling his eyes, Peter slumped dramatically in his chair. "Are you sure you don't want any?" he asked with exasperation, waving the container in Derek's direction.

"Why Stiles?" Derek asked, ignoring the half-eaten casserole.

Cocking his head slightly, Peter set down the food, a pensive frown creasing his forehead. His eyes roved over Derek appraisingly.

"I'm not sure" he finally admitted, dropping his gaze down to his food, poking at it thoughtfully.

"You're not sure?" Derek spat out incredulously. "You're not sure why you're putting the moves on a sixteen year old kid? Who, apart from being underage, is the Sheriff's son?"

Peter raised a brow at him. "You're choosing now to respect the law? I'll remind you that all of your betas are under the age of consent and that I'm not offering him a complete change in species and/or lifestyle."

He kicked the heavy desk out a bit so he could prop his feet up on it, digging into the casserole with renewed gusto.

Derek still didn't seem appeased. "Then what are you offering him?"

A wicked smirk pulled at the older man's lips. "Are you sure you want to know?" Peter asked, teasingly.

Grimacing, Derek stood and moved towards the door. "Not really, considering the parties involved. But I'm not turning him," he threw over his shoulder.

Peter shrugged, looking disinterested. "Fair enough. He's more interesting as a human anyway. I might even keep him. Derek?"

The Alpha turned and grunted out a 'what'.

"Did you know that the human sense of smell is so closely linked with the limbic system that a particular scent can trigger memories from several years past, if the impression was strong enough? No one's ever done a study on werewolves, but I'm sure the results would be similar, if not even higher in regards to 'born' wolves."

Peter scraped at the sides of the dish, consolidating the left over bits into a pile.

Derek growled. "Okay, so what?"

Peter hummed, absorbed in his task. "Humans are also creatures of habit," he continued, as though Derek hadn't spoken. "Especially when it comes to buying things. They'll stick to something for years, if they like it enough. Take for instance, perfumes."

Derek tensed almost imperceptibly. Almost.

Peter smiled to himself.

"I was in town earlier today and a woman drenched in perfume passed me in the street. Now, that in itself isn't strange. I've encountered countless women who lack restraint when using perfume, but this time it really bothered me. The perfume, not the woman. It was like I'd smelled it before only I couldn't quite place it. I kept turning it over and over in my head for hours until, finally, it hit me. Twice in particular I had registered the scent. The first was six years ago, when puberty was apparently doing very well for you and you would come home reeking of the stuff. The second was the night of my death, when I bled the Argent bitch dry."

Peter downed the last of the casserole with relish, taking care to lick the fork clean. After a moment, he turned his attention back to Derek, who was silent as the grave, gaze trained on the floor. "It's interesting, isn't it? That the bitch you used to fuck had the same taste in perfume as the one who slaughtered our family? I wonder what the odds of that happening are."

Peter dropped the fork into the container and snapped the lid over it, scooping the whole kit up with exaggerated nonchalance.

Sauntering like the predator he was, Peter confidently approached Derek and stood directly in front of him, taking in the pungent smell of guilt.

Derek was still avoiding his eyes.

"Perhaps before you start judging my choice of partners, it might be more…prudent…for you to first examine your own," Peter said with mock-concern.

Stepping around his mute nephew, Peter left the room, a self-satisfied smile on his face.