The Pack Sees Everything
Harry wasn't stupid.
He knew the pack was watching.
Knew they had felt the shift.
Because the next time he walked into the loft, everything was different.
Lydia smirked at him like she had won something.
Malia looked smug.
Derek gave him one of those silent nods—approval, acknowledgment, acceptance.
And Stiles?
Stiles grinned.
"Finally," Stiles said, flopping onto the couch like this was the best day of his life.
Harry rolled his eyes. "You act like this is some big event."
Stiles snorted. "Dude, we've been waiting for you to stop fighting it for months."
Harry scowled. "I wasn't fighting anything."
Lydia arched a perfect brow. "Harry, you have literally been fighting this since the day you got here."
Malia shrugged. "It was annoying."
Harry crossed his arms. "I hate all of you."
Stiles grinned wider. "No, you don't."
And, okay. Maybe he didn't.
But he wasn't going to admit that out loud.
Peter's Version of a Confession
Peter wasn't one for grand gestures.
He didn't do romantic confessions.
Didn't do feelings the way normal people did.
But when Harry found himself standing in Peter's living room that night, something unspoken settled between them.
Peter leaned against the kitchen counter, watching him with those sharp, knowing eyes.
"You still think you don't belong?" Peter asked, casual as anything.
Harry sighed, rubbing his temples. "I never said that."
Peter smirked. "No. But you thought it."
Harry exhaled slowly, glancing around. The space was comfortable, familiar in a way that terrified him.
Because this?
This felt like home.
And that?
That was dangerous.
Because the last time Harry had called something home—
He had lost it.
Peter's voice cut through his thoughts.
"You're not going to lose us."
Harry stilled.
Peter's gaze softened, just a fraction. "I know that's what you're afraid of."
Harry clenched his jaw. "You don't know me."
Peter stepped forward, slow and deliberate. "I know enough."
Harry swallowed hard. "And what if you're wrong?"
Peter smirked, reaching out to brush his fingers along Harry's wrist—just enough contact to make Harry ache.
"I'm not."
Harry inhaled sharply.
Because, damn it—
Peter wasn't wrong.
And that?
That was the most terrifying part of all.