It was times like this that Peter sorely missed having alpha powers, namely the healing. It seemed the general populous had quite the fetish for wanting him on the crispier side of cooked, something that caused the werewolf to even avoid fucking tanning beds. But, as fate had had it, even driving a car down the goddamn road seemed to label him a target for getting roasted alive. He wasn’t dead, though. Plus, Chris and Silver thankfully hadn’t been in the car. There were small victories he supposed.
He’d been drifting slightly in and out of consciousness for a while now, the first time having been when he felt Derek leeching his pain away. Even though Melissa was keeping him on a high (werewolf level) dose of morphine, it was pure agony just laying there as his body slowly healed itself.
He knew he looked like a damn mummy, all wrapped up in gauze which he knew was multi-purposed to keep his supposedly delicate skin infection free, and to keep the regular doctors and nurses from seeing his accelerated healing.
Every time Chris entered the room, he tried to make his body cooperate. All he wanted to do was reassure the man who absolutely reeked of worry that he’d be fine. Though the comparison was vile, Peter couldn’t disagree when people likened him to a cockroach. He was pretty damn hard to kill.
Chris had been sitting next to him for a few hours now, no doubt having left their daughter with Allison or one of the pack members. Finally, Peter could feel that the tight, burned skin around his mouth had healed enough and he forced every muscle in his body to move, shaky bandaged arm reaching up to yank the breathing tube from his mouth with supernatural strength.
It was times like this that Peter sorely missed having alpha powers, namely the healing. It seemed the general populous had quite the fetish for wanting him on the crispier side of cooked, something that caused the werewolf to even avoid fucking tanning beds. But, as fate had had it, even driving a car down the goddamn road seemed to label him a target for getting roasted alive. He wasn’t dead, though. Plus, Chris and Silver thankfully hadn’t been in the car. There were small victories he supposed.
He’d been drifting slightly in and out of consciousness for a while now, the first time having been when he felt Derek leeching his pain away. Even though Melissa was keeping him on a high (werewolf level) dose of morphine, it was pure agony just laying there as his body slowly healed itself.
He knew he looked like a damn mummy, all wrapped up in gauze which he knew was multi-purposed to keep his supposedly delicate skin infection free, and to keep the regular doctors and nurses from seeing his accelerated healing.
Every time Chris entered the room, he tried to make his body cooperate. All he wanted to do was reassure the man who absolutely reeked of worry that he’d be fine. Though the comparison was vile, Peter couldn’t disagree when people likened him to a cockroach. He was pretty damn hard to kill.
Chris had been sitting next to him for a few hours now, no doubt having left their daughter with Allison or one of the pack members. Finally, Peter could feel that the tight, burned skin around his mouth had healed enough and he forced every muscle in his body to move, shaky bandaged arm reaching up to yank the breathing tube from his mouth with supernatural strength.
It was times like this that Peter sorely missed having alpha powers, namely the healing. It seemed the general populous had quite the fetish for wanting him on the crispier side of cooked, something that caused the werewolf to even avoid fucking tanning beds. But, as fate had had it, even driving a car down the goddamn road seemed to label him a target for getting roasted alive. He wasn’t dead, though. Plus, Chris and Silver thankfully hadn’t been in the car. There were small victories he supposed.
He’d been drifting slightly in and out of consciousness for a while now, the first time having been when he felt Derek leeching his pain away. Even though Melissa was keeping him on a high (werewolf level) dose of morphine, it was pure agony just laying there as his body slowly healed itself.
He knew he looked like a damn mummy, all wrapped up in gauze which he knew was multi-purposed to keep his supposedly delicate skin infection free, and to keep the regular doctors and nurses from seeing his accelerated healing.
Every time Chris entered the room, he tried to make his body cooperate. All he wanted to do was reassure the man who absolutely reeked of worry that he’d be fine. Though the comparison was vile, Peter couldn’t disagree when people likened him to a cockroach. He was pretty damn hard to kill.
Chris had been sitting next to him for a few hours now, no doubt having left their daughter with Allison or one of the pack members. Finally, Peter could feel that the tight, burned skin around his mouth had healed enough and he forced every muscle in his body to move, shaky bandaged arm reaching up to yank the breathing tube from his mouth with supernatural strength.
Chris’ head shot up when he heard a noise, jumping out of the seat. “Are you insane?!” he exclaimed; not exactly the first words he wanted to say. He was hoping The moment would be more of a happy one, attuned to when he met his daughter for the first time, both of them. Instead he felt like ripping the mans arm off to get him to stop pulling at the breathing tube.
Times like these he wished Melissa didn’t take his gun when he came into the hospital; he knew it was because he was on edge and any slight move would be cause for him to pull it out. But right now he wanted to shoot Peter to get him to stop. Violent yes, but he knew the man would heal quickly. With one hand struggling with his he reached over head, knowing Melissa would see the notice and be the one to come. “Good to know your alpha qualities didn’t get burned away.” He muttered, giving up the struggle and pulling away from him.
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