When Peter knocked at Braeden's door, she didn't answer so he let himself in to check on her.
She was peacefully asleep and it showed how much she needed some rest because Peter was not looking down the barrel of her gun when he stepped closer.
"Peter?" She mumbled but didn't open her eyes to confirm that it was indeed him who was looming over her. On some level, she knew that she was not in immediate danger.
"I brought food." Peter stepped away from the bed to put the bags on the table. Behind him, Braeden snuggled deeper into the pillow and when he turned back to her, she had drawn the blanket over her head.
"You can reheat it later if you want," Peter said in a low voice in case she was actually sleeping under there. Only a mess of dark hair peeked out and the lump under the blanket was not moving.
Peter sat down to eat. He could take his food over to his room but since he was here he wanted to keep an eye on her for a little while.
"Damn, that smells good," came a muffled voice from the bed but it took Braeden a few minutes to emerge from under the blanket. She had slept in only a slip and an oversized t-shirt but she had her jeans and boots right next to the bed which she put on before she joined Peter at the table.
"I'm surprised you didn't sleep in your boots," Peter commented.
"I'm counting on them coming for you first." She got her gun from under her pillow and tucked it into the back of her jeans. She moved stiffly but didn't seem to be in pain.
"Good to know that you would throw me to the wolves for a quick escape," Peter said between two bites of fried rice. This was just some lighthearted banter, she would die trying to protect him, he knew that.
She sat down, still with a grumpy face and the imprint of a pillow crease on her cheek, and reached for one of the containers.
They ate in silence for a while but eventually, she leaned back in her chair, getting more comfortable.
"Any news from the blind fucker?"
"No." Peter used the napkin and pushed the empty container away. "Stiles told me to keep my head down and to let him do his thing so that's what we're going to do."
"We're just going to sit here and stare at the walls?" With her chopsticks, she pointed at the nearest wall. It had an ornamental pattern that had been considered tasteful in the seventies. "Sorry to break it to you but I will go crazy in less than two days."
Peter's room had the same wallpaper, he got where she was coming from. However, the last few hours he'd been more looking at the screen of his laptop than admiring the room.
"We're going to lay low but we still have a business to run," Peter reminded her. "We have to get that furniture to the other side of the country and Satomi mentioned that she wants to introduce me to some people."
Thanks to modern technology they didn't need to leave their room to coordinate things on the other side of the country, or the world for that matter, they could keep themselves busy.
Over the next few days, Stiles messaged him frequently but he kept it strictly professional and his focus was on Isaac's safety. He didn't outright say it but the fact that Deucalion had targeted Isaac, an innocent bystander, did tick off Stiles. Peter only got the bits Stiles was willing to share over text messages and one short call, which was next to nothing, but he got the feeling that Stiles was setting things in motion for a big bang. This weekend Derek and Isaac would be out of town for their star-gazing event, it would be the perfect opportunity. Isaac and more importantly Derek would be out of harm's way. However, it was just in a few days. Whatever Stiles had in mind, he needed to act fast.
Peter didn't hear from Derek either and when he sent him the details for Isaac's internship, beginning in less than two weeks, he got a simple thank you in return. Peter took it and tried to not read too much into it.
On Wednesday, while Peter was in a Zoom meeting with two of his contacts in France, his phone rang with Deucalion's name on the display.
"Sorry, gentlemen, I have to take this." Peter hurried to end the call. He closed the laptop for good measure before he answered the phone.
"Peter, Peter, Peter," Deucalion said the second Peter accepted the call. He sounded like a disappointed father.
"What now?" Peter got out of his chair, he needed to move for this conversation. He highly doubted that Deucalion was calling with a peace offering. But on the other hand, he already had put a price on both Braeden's and his head, what else could he do?
"I heard Stiles is back," Deucalion said. "You don't happen to know the reason for that?"
"I don't know." Peter stepped over to the window. He made sure to not be able to be spotted from the street when he had a glance left and right to see if he saw anything suspicious. He did not. "You were the one who sent those pictures of him and me to his husband. I don't know, he might have taken it personally."
It was not the case but Peter had no intention to tell Deucalion that.
"Let me guess," Peter continued before Deucalion had a chance to say something. "You didn't know that. To you, he was only my nephew's husband, right? But then somebody with working eyes and long enough in the business to know Stiles pointed it out to you."
The silence on the other end was a tad too long, confirming that Peter was spot on with his conclusion. It was a satisfying feeling even if he was talking to the man who wanted him dead and had the power to actually pose a threat.
"Heard he's a college professor these days." Deucalion glossed over Peter's statement. "Has settled down with a husband. He's gone soft."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that." Peter defended Stiles even if he'd thought the same. Stiles had been out for years. The world had moved on without him. He couldn't just come back and pick up where he'd left off.
"Tell him to leave it," Deucalion said. "Tell him to go back to his domestic life with grading papers and cheating on his husband. What kind of doormat is your nephew anyway?"
He did sound curious for a moment here but Peter was not going to explain Stiles' and Derek's relationship to him.
"Or what?" Peter challenged him. "You put a price on Stiles' head as well?"
"I don't know what he thinks he's doing here but he should stop before he gets hurt," he continued. "Or his husband. I don't think Stiles cares much about him but he's still your nephew, the only family you've left, you don't want that something happens to him, do you?"
This was bait, Peter knew that, Deucalion wanted to get a reaction out of him. It was still hard to bite back the threats he wanted to hurl at him, though. Peter gritted his teeth.
"You do care about him." The smug smile was audible over the phone.
"You are afraid," Peter realized. This was all smoke and mirrors to disguise the fact that Deucalion was afraid of what Stiles would do. "What does Stiles have on you?"
"I've never even met him." Deucalion dismissed him. He tried to make the idea sound ridiculous.
Stiles had said the same but that didn't mean that he didn't have anything on Deucalion. One didn't come to power without some skeletons in the closet. In most cases quite literally. And Stiles had made it clear that he knew about a lot of skeletons.
"I'm not a violent man," Deucalion said. "But I demand some respect. And you, Peter, you have not shown me any respect. Maybe I should pay your nephew a visit. Maybe that will help you learn your lesson."
It didn't make sense. If anything it felt as if Deucalion was lashing out in every direction. Kind of like a frightened animal.
As amusing as it was, it made him unpredictable. Peter had no clue what he would do and how far he was willing to go.
"Derek is not just my nephew," Peter reminded him in hope to knock some sense into him. "He's Stiles' husband. Believe it or not, they are so sweetly in love, it makes my teeth rot."
Deucalion snorted at that.
"Point is, if you come after Derek Stiles will destroy you." He might be laying it on thick here but they wouldn't have this conversation if Deucalion wasn't worried about what Stiles might do in the first place.
"So what's your solution?" Deucalion asked. "That I look away and let you do whatever you want? Do I have to remind you that one of my guys is dead?"
"Now we're running in circles." Peter pinched the bridge of his nose but resisted the urge to remind him that technically Deucalion owed him.
"I'm not a violent man," Deucalion said. "But I demand some respect. And you, Peter, you have not shown me any respect."
"Give me a week and I'm gone," Peter offered. He had no intention to follow through with that idea but it might gain him some time. "I have a few things to finish up and then Braeden and I are going to leave."
"It's a bit late for that."
"One week. That's all I'm asking for."
"What about Stiles?" Deucalion came back to the initial topic.
"This is a thing between you and me," Peter stated. "I want your word that you won't come after Isaac or Derek, those are the two Stiles cares about. He will back off once he knows that they are safe."
"He doesn't care about you?" Deucalion asked, amused. "You want me to believe that?"
"I fucked up when I touched Isaac," Peter admitted. It was the first honest thing he'd said in this conversation but it might help to get him that week. A little breather would be nice. "I'm surprised Derek didn't tell me to leave and never come back."
"Since you're so good at taking that hint," Deucalion said with a bitter edge in his voice. "But fine, you have one week. Put Stiles on a leash and I want you and Braeden out of my territory by next week. This is your last chance, my patience is running out."
Peter did not ask what patience he was talking about.
"Wonder what else I could have asked of him," Peter mused once he'd ended the call. Deucalion was worried about what Stiles had on him and what he intended to do with it, that much was clear.
Peter didn't even wait for the screen of his phone to go dark before he called Stiles.
"What the hell do you have on Deucalion?" Peter asked when Stiles picked up the phone.
"What?" Stiles asked, not following. "Why?"
"The blind man just called me," Peter said. This conversation was less intense so he got comfortable in the chair and stretched out his legs. "He was pretty tame, only half-heartily threatened to kill us all."
He gave Stiles a short recap of his conversation with Deucalion.
"Do you intend to leave next week?" Stiles asked. He sounded disappointed but that might just be wistful thinking on Peter's part.
"Do you want me to stay?" Peter asked just to test the waters. He did not intend to leave. At least not until Derek or Stiles told him to get the hell out of their lives.
"The sex was good," Stiles said. Peter could hear him shrug over the phone.
"Admit it, you would miss me."
"Let's take down Deucalion and we'll see after that."
Which brought them back to his initial question.
"What do you have on him?" Peter wondered. "He sounded worried."
"As he should be," Stiles said darkly. "I'm still working on getting things in motion but for starters let's call him Al Capone."