H O W L

Peter Hale || 38 || Doctor || Werewolf

[you-make-me-wander]

And even somebody as burned and dead on the inside as me knows better than to underestimate the simple yet undeniable power of human love.

Peter Hale, 2x11 (via you-make-me-wander)

[rosesandcharms]

R E C O N C I L E

[dr-hale-blog]

dr-hale:

rosesandcharms:

Being in Peter’s apartment again made Lydia feel slightly awkward, especially because while it wasn’t a new experience, it was still something that hadn’t happened in a long time. She watched Peter as he made his way towards the closet, and she didn’t know what made her do it, but as soon as his shirt came off she subtly looked away, like she wasn’t allowed to see him nearly half-naked.

After a few seconds, though, when she was sure he wasn’t really paying that much attention, she let her eyes wander back to him. She flicked her eyes over his back, down his arms, across his shoulders. She rubbed her lips together before subconsciously biting her lower lip. She forced herself to look away, and searched for anything she could do with her hands to keep her focused on something other than the thought of touching Peter’s skin.

Lydia’s eyes drifted back to Peter, the urge to drag her fingertips across his skin increased. After a few moments she decided to give into the temptation to be closer to him. She closed the short distance between them. She pressed her hand on his back, between his shoulder-blades, and lightly dragged her fingertips down his back. With her other hand, she tugged gently on his bicep in order to get him to turn towards her. “Hi,” she said quietly, lifting her hand to gently cup his cheek. 

“You can relax,” she said encouragingly, “It’s just me.” A small, soft smile spread across her face and she leaned up, gently sliding their lips against each other in a soft and brief kiss. 

Relax.

Such an unfamiliar feeling; he couldn’t remember the last time this body felt anything less than tense, his muscles anything more than tight knots beneath his skin. 

Relax.

When he was younger, away at college, he had been forced to read Paradise Lost in a core literature class. He never understood how Adam and Eve, upon realizing their nakedness, could be so embarrassed as to conceal their bodies from each other — was it that they believed themselves to be aesthetically ugly, undesirable, deformed? It had never made sense. 

Now it did. 

It’s just me.

And it was just Adam. It was just Eve. They were lovers, ashamed of displaying their bodies, and Peter understood why. It wasn’t that they thought they were physically unattractive, rather it was that the weight of their sins held them back; they had destroyed each other, and they couldn’t handle being naked, exposed, vulnerable, without worrying the ugliness of their sins would show. They hid themselves because they were ashamed of what they’d done. Of what they’d destroyed. Paradise. Obliterated in a moment of weakness; a moment of weakness that they rationalized was one of strength.  

"How,” Peter looked down at Lydia, searching her face with his pale blue eyes, trying to find some flaw in her smile that proved it was fake; some stutter in her heartbeat that gave away the truth — that she didn’t want him; he found nothing but the genuine curve of her full lips, a soft glimmer behind her hazel green eyes. She was looking at him, despite how much he wanted to hide himself from her in shame — she was looking at him, and because he was desperate to give her everything he hadn’t given her before, he would stand there and let her look at him. He owed her that much.

“How can you still look at me like that?” He whispered, brushing his fingers across her cheek, catching stray strands of soft hair away from her face. “How can you still look at me like you think I’m—”

Beautiful. Human. Yours.

The urge to kiss Lydia overwhelmed him, compelled him to graze his lips delicately, teasingly, over hers for the briefest of moments as he whispered against them, “How can you still love me?”

[crack-shipped]

You’re in love with him, and he’s in love with you, and it’s like a goddamn tragedy, because you look at him and see the stars, and he looks at you and sees the sun. And you both think the other is just looking at the ground.

[catvampcrazines-deactivated2023]

[dr-hale-blog]

@rosesandcharms

[rosesandcharms]

R E C O N C I L E

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Being back in Peter’s apartment was like a rush back in time. She entered the small, dark apartment once Peter got the door open. It was just as small as she remembered, and even after she flicked on the lights and walked down the short hallway, the black walls and midnight sky still made the apartment seem dark. Even though it wasn’t bright, Lydia still considered a lot of memories that happened within these walls to be good and bright moments.

She slipped her jacket off, glancing around the orderly place. “Have you moved anything?” she said, a slight tease in her voice as she turned around to face Peter. She draped her coat on the edge of the couch and flicked her eyes across the familiar setting. She moved toward one of the taller windows that extended nearly floor to ceiling. There were still a few fireworks shooting off in the distance, but for the most part the celebration seemed to have calmed down a bit and wasn’t quite as intense.

Lydia folded her arms across her chest, eyes flicking over the buildings in the distance before she turned back to Peter. Now that they were completely, totally alone the apartment seemed smaller than she remembered. She found herself starting to become nervous. Not in a bad way, but in a way she hadn’t felt since the very first time they were alone in his apartment. 

She watched Peter carefully where he stood, trying to calculate what he might be feeling in this moment. “Are you going to stand there all night?” She asked him, a quiet yet playful laugh left her lips. 

Moonlight, pale and ethereal, poured in through the three massive casement windows lining the back wall of the apartment; it mingled with the dazzling sparkle of the occasional firework, casting dancing shadows around the dark studio apartment that Peter called home. His fingers fumbled in the darkness against the wall beside him, finally resting on a dimming switch that he slowly slid up, cloaking the room in a soft amber glow. He never found much use for the light; his days were spent enjoying the way the sun’s natural rays poured in through his windows, and his nights were spent at the hospital, where he could avoid a restless night of tossing and turning in a bed too empty for him.

Not tonight.

Jaw tense with a nervous bite, Peter watched as Lydia strode over to the windows, so close to his bed. The first time she had shown up at his apartment and latched on to him, they had cascaded carelessly onto his sofa only moments before their clothes came off. He could still remember the leather sticking to their bodies, the way Lydia said his name...

“No,” he said after a brief moment registering what she’d said. He could have stood there all night and watched her, but what kind of terrifyingly predatory impression would she receive from that? 

Peter offered Lydia a mischievous smile in return — anything to mask the way his heart raced with anxious, sporadic beats pounding in his chest — and crossed the small space from where he stood, still transfixed at the front door, to his closet, where he hung up his lab coat on a stray hanger. He’d have to ditch the green scrubs he had on as well; usually he’d throw on some sweat pants and a t-shirt, but when he looked over at Lydia and saw how gorgeous and elegant she looked — well, he couldn’t exactly let himself look like a slob. He took a breath in through his nose. The scrubs reeked of antiseptic and illness; it didn’t take a wolf’s sense of smell to tell him that. 

Back still turned to Lydia, Peter lifted his scrub shirt up over his head and tossed it in the small, black wooden laundry bin in his closet, saying. He opened his mouth to speak, found no words would come out, and then closed his mouth again.

For the first time in quite a while, Peter Hale found himself speechless.

[dr-hale-blog]

“Come home with me?” Peter breathed, trailing his lips slowly over Lydia’s forehead, along the sharp curve of her jawline, against the soft skin of her neck.

Lydia pulled away, trailed her hand down his arm until she could thread her fingers through his own. “Let’s go...” she said, a small smile crossing her face.

Edit based on this post, featuring @rosesandcharms and my 3x3 indie RP 

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Lydia pulled away from Peter and pressed her forehead against his. She dropped her hands to curl them around his biceps, too afraid that if she let him go he would walk away from her. She kept her eyes closed, wishing that she could stay in this moment forever, or at least a few hours, instead of having to pull away and face reality.

Even though reality still had the possibility of including Peter, it was still something she wanted to put off for as long as she could. With a soft, shaky sigh she pulled away only enough to look him in the eyes. She swallowed thickly, “Was that..okay?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper but she knew that through the yelling and singing of those around her Peter would still be able to hear her. 

She had no idea what would come next for them, she knew Peter loved her but that didn’t mean he had to be with her. Should they even jump straight into a relationship or ease into it? Would this be just like the office party, a kiss that’s never mentioned again? Lydia wasn’t even sure what she wanted. She wanted Peter, but even that was vague in her mind.

Shaky and feeling like he was ready to fall over, Peter sighed as he felt Lydia’s forehead resting against his own. He hadn’t noticed that they’d stopped kissing, and his eyes were still shut; there was a genuine fear brewing inside of him that had him convinced that, were he to open his eyes, Lydia would be gone, and he would be standing alone in a crowded street wondering whether she had ever really been there at all. He couldn’t take that risk. Not when they were both clinging to each other like literal life support.

He wondered who was more afraid of losing the other? He continued to wonder while he nodded, brushing his forehead more gingerly still against Lydia’s, breathing in the scent of her perfume and her shampoo and her makeup and her very being. The fear was washing over him, crashing in waves along his body, reminding him that the last time they had kissed, Lydia pretended it never happened. Maybe, considering she was the one who’d kissed him tonight — and she was the one who professed her love — things would go differently. But, once again — he couldn’t take that risk.

“Come home with me?” Peter breathed, slowly kissing his way from Lydia’s forehead down to her jawline, then onto her neck. He didn’t want to tell Lydia that he still had half a closet full of her clothes, or that her socks — mismatching ones and all — were still inhabiting a draw of their own; he didn’t want to own up to the half-empty glass jar of foundation sitting on his bathroom sink, or the coffee mug stained with her lipstick that he hadn’t washed in months sitting somewhere in his kitchen cupboards. But he wanted Lydia and there was a place for him in his home. And his life. And always his heart.

“I love you.”

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Even though Lydia hadn’t quite poured her heart out, she still threw herself over a ledge without knowing if anything was going to be there to catch her once she got to the ground. She could have gone the extra mile, she could have told Peter how much she loved him but what would have happened if he had enough of her? What if she made herself vulnerable only to put herself in the way of getting hurt once more? 

She realized what her problem was–she kept thinking what if. Every time she had a moment to reconcile with Peter she talked herself out of it, listed out all the negative outcomes. How would she get anywhere with talking herself out of things?

Peter’s reactions to her words wasn’t what she quite expected, then again, she hadn’t known what to expect from him. Of course when he turned his back on her she immediately jumped into action. 

Not this time.

She tightened her grip on his arm, though he didn’t seem to be pulling away but she didn’t notice that. Her heart jumped in her chest, the prospect of watching Peter walk away again was too much for her–it wasn’t an option. She didn’t want to end another conversation between them like this, with things unsaid and feelings left unresolved. 

“No.” She said firmly, slipping in front of Peter so she could catch his eyes (and so she could block his path). She flicked her eyes over his face, trying to catch any slip of emotion he might have. “Let me finish, and if you still want me to go then I will.” She said, her face hardened. “You hurt me. A lot. For no reason, too. I had a right to be angry at you. I had a right to want to shut you out. You don’t get that right. You don’t get to shut me out. I don’t care how mad you are at the world for screwing you over–okay, you get to stand there and look me in the eye while I tell you how much I love you.” She said. To be fair, Peter hadn’t shut her out, yet, but she thought it was important for her to reiterate that from this point forward, if after this moment there was going to be a point after this, that Peter wasn’t going to close off from her again.

By this point, the massive groups of people scattered about had started chanting down from ten, but Lydia wasn’t paying attention to that, only to Peter’s face. She had made her decision. “I love you, Peter.” With that, she pushed forward, giving him to time to respond before she was kissing him. She dropped his arm in favor of cupping his cheeks. Surrounding them was drunk men and women, popping confetti and bellowing cheers while fireworks shot off in the distance, celebrating the turn of the year. 

There it was. All his past transgressions, coming out into the night air like dirty little secrets. Lydia was pouring her soul out to him, and destroying his own in the process. If it weren’t for his sudden onset of muteness — the way his vocal cords felt as if they’d snap with the weight of all the words he wanted to say: the apologies on repeat like a broken record, the confessions of love like some sick Shakespearean sonnet, the self-depreciation — though he was doing that mentally the whole time he stood there, waiting for Lydia to finish, wondering if she ever would.

I had a right to want to shut you out. You don’t get that right.

Every thing she said rang true in his ears, rang so loud he hoped he’d go deaf so he wouldn’t have to hear any more. What happened to him? That was a trick question, though — he knew what happened. When his family died, he went with them, and he allowed himself to be consumed by guilt for living while they suffered to death, and hatred for the woman who took his world and quite literally burnt it to cinders on the ground, and pain because he didn’t know what else to feel — he just knew he didn’t deserve to feel happy.

You get to stand there and look me in the eye while I tell you how much —

I hurt you, he thought.

— I love you, she said.

Peter blinked slowly, stupidly. He knew Lydia loved him, wanted to hear her say it, but now that she did, it felt different than he’d imagined. So much better. He drowned out the noise around him — the screaming and singing and laughter; the confetti flying, the sparklers sizzling and spitting light. He wanted to say it back, but he was afraid that if he opened his mouth and tried to speak, the lump in his throat would come out in a relieved sob, and the last thing he wanted to do was cry. He’d never been more thankful, more content, than in that moment when Lydia grabbed hold of his face and pressed her lips to his. With no hesitation, Peter wrapped his arms around her waist and held her close to him, lifting her slightly from the ground.

It was sickeningly cliche, straight out of a romance novel — one Lydia had probably read and adored — but Peter didn’t care; any story that ended with Lydia Martin kissing him was a good one.

[wolfinlionskingdom]

I’ve always been the alpha.

[catvampcrazines-deactivated2023]

Lonely is the room, the bed is made, the open window lets the rain in. Burning in the corner is the only one who dreams he had you with him. My body turns and yearns for a sleep that will never come.

It’s never over, my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder.  It’s never over, all my riches for her smiles when I slept so soft against her. It’s never over, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter. It’s never over, she’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever.

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Lydia slowed to a stop at Peter’s request, a slightly confused look on her face as Peter shrugged on his lab coat once more. She watched silently the exchange between Peter, the boy, and the nurse. And though she couldn’t hear the conversation, she could only guess what it was about. 

She immediately knew what Peter was doing, even if she couldn’t see the way his veins would have darkened as the obvious sign he was taking the child’s pain. 

A rush of pure, unadulterated love flooded through her.

She had never really seen Peter at work at his job, despite the time she found him in the NICU, and seeing him again, now, in this moment, only made her realize one of the many reasons why she fell in love with him in the first place. Peter wasn’t the bad guy everyone made him out to be. That had always been obvious to her, but her perception of him twisted and distorted each time he had hurt her. She was so overwhelmed with pain that she completely shoved any other feeling she had associated with him out the window.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes never glued to where he was standing. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as he approached him, eyes widened slightly. And that’s when he apologized.

His words caused her heart to twist in her chest. She had caused her own self pain these past few months. She had been purposely pushing Peter away despite how much she knew she wanted him. And now she wasn’t sure if she had really screwed up. She was torn between keeping her pride and not running back to him, and giving in to the temptation of allowing herself to love him again. 

She didn’t exactly have time to think, though, all she knew was that she wasn’t ready to let Peter walk away from her tonight. So she followed him. She quickened her pace so she could catch up to him, and followed him outside into the biting cold air. 

Outside was drastically different from inside the hospital. As the clock ticked closer to midnight, it seemed the louder and more rambunctious people got. There were people running along the sidewalk, shouting gleefully and calling out the time to each other. “Peter, wait.” She called, grabbing his forearm and tugging to get his attention.

She bounced on the balls of her feet and looked down, rubbing her lips together while she gave herself a mental pep talk. “I know. I mean, I’ve known. You didn’t have to–” she gestured back to the hospital doors, gesturing back to what he had said inside. 

She looked away from him, down the crowded street and shook her head. “God, this is just–this whole time I’ve been convincing myself that all you’re good for is bringing people pain. Causing me pain. And that’s not true. I mean, look at what you just did in there. That’s not the actions of someone who’s out to curse the world. That’s why this has been so damn hard and tiring.” She gestured between them, a bitter laugh leaving her lips. “And I just, I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you for deserting me. For leaving me. But when I saw you after you had gotten back I just, I hated myself because I didn’t hate you. I could never hate you because I lo–” she cut herself off immediately. She realized she was digging her nails into his forearm, holding onto him like if she let go he would run the opposite direction and disappear out of her life for good. 

When Peter exited the hospital and stepped out into the night chill, he didn’t know whether or not to expect Lydia to follow him on his trek back to his apartment only a few blocks away, or to go straight to wherever she had parked and hop in her car and drive off into the night. It would seem more like Lydia — at least in keeping with her recent behavior — to drive home, trying to convince herself that she hated him the entire way. 

He heard her before he felt her. It made him falter some in his steps, kept him suspended there among the throng of drunk or excited — or both — LA citizens fleeting through the streets and sidewalks with cries of ‘eight minutes left’ and bubbling laughter. When her fingers wrapped around his bare arm, he felt a surge of warmth where he’d been otherwise ghosted by the cool air of the wintery evening. As much as he wanted to turn around and look at her — as annoying as it was to see all the happiness around him when there was so much bitterness inside of him — Peter kept his eyes glued to the frivolity surrounding him; anything to distract him from the searing temptation to grab Lydia and tell her he wanted her, and that the sooner she stopped lying to herself and admitted she wanted him, the sooner she could reach out and take him.

He didn’t stop to think that maybe, with her nails slowly tightening into his skin, that was exactly what Lydia was doing.

Even when she started telling him exactly what he wanted to hear, something kept him rooted to the spot, transfixed and intent on focusing all his attention elsewhere. It was too easy — too easy to want something and then suddenly get it. No matter what Lydia was saying, regardless of what she was admitting to — her pettiness in attempting to hate him, her desire to see him as the monster he really was even though she only ever saw the good in him — there had to be a catch. Would she really just let him have her; let him turn around right there in the street and hold her? Would she let him kiss her and touch her; let his finger tips rediscover every inch of her body? Would she let him love her?

Would she let herself love him?

Peter turned around and looked down at Lydia. In the distance, somebody screamed something about ‘three minutes left’, but he didn’t register it. His ears were trained on Lydia’s heartbeat — faster than normal, but unwavering, steady. She loved him, yes. But she couldn’t even say the words. 

She’s not ready.

He wouldn’t force her.

“Happy New Year, Lydia,” Peter said, turning back away from Lydia, though he couldn’t bring himself to pull away from her hold on his arm. “Go home.”

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Lydia had expected Peter to put up a fight–she had prepared to be here for a while, not just five minutes. He had left the stethoscope with her, on purpose, so she had expected him to refuse the gift. But instead he gladly accepted it with ease. 

She narrowed her eyes cautiously at Peter, head tilted slightly to the side. She flicked her eyes over his face, calculating if this was a joke or not. She pressed her lips together, shrugging inwardly and nodded. “Oh-kay.” She said slowly. 

She slowly moved past Peter, keeping her eyes on him until she was out of the door. She flicked her eyes over at him before she began walking beside him to wherever it was he was headed. “So, what exactly are your plans for tonight?” She questioned. 

Her own plans consisted of more than likely consuming a bottle of Moscato while binge watching whatever TV show she could find interesting. It wasn’t all that exciting, but she couldn’t exactly celebrate with Jordan since he was off doing whatever with Drew, nor could she spend it with Stiles, she and Allison hadn’t spoken in weeks. When it came to a social life, Lydia’s consisted of virtually no one outside of work. And Peter. She had forgotten how good it felt to be in Peter’s company. And now that he was thrust back into her life, albeit not the way she wanted, it felt good. It felt right.

Whatever Peter thought his night would consist of, it certainly wasn’t this. He preferred it to the alternative, which most likely involved him alone in his apartment with a large glass of wolfsbane-laced whisky watching the ball drop and pop stars prance around on stage half-dressed without a care in the world. Typical for someone like him. What he couldn’t figure out was why Lydia was walking around the hospital so close to midnight. The idea that she wasn’t out celebrating with friends, showing off some brand new sparkling cocktail dress just for the occasion, seemed far beyond Peter.

It was New Year’s Eve. Why was Lydia looking for him?

The last time they’d seen each other, he’d kissed her and she’d walked away and never once looked back. Walking beside her now, casually acting as if that had never happened, had Peter suspicious. He noticed he was looking sideways at Lydia, an eyebrow cocked in confusion, so he tore his attention away from her; as he did, he caught sight of the little boy from earlier being wheeled in their direction, which made sense as the X-Ray unit was back close to where he and Lydia had just come from. The boy’s arm looked purple and his face looked scared — parents weren’t typically allowed back in X-Ray. Neither were brothers. The boy was alone.

"Give me a second,” Peter said to Lydia out of the corner of his mouth. He hurried to throw on his lab coat, covering his arms that were otherwise exposed by his short sleeved green scrubs, and then held up a hand to halt the nurse.

“He’s what — five? Six? Christ...” Peter said quietly to the nurse as he placed a hand gingerly on the boy’s shoulder. Immediately, he began to take the child’s pain, then said through gritted teeth, “Get a family member for him. Now.”

With nothing but a sudden rush of affection for the boy — the thought that he could have been Leon’s age, for all he knew — Peter offered him a reassuring smile and a wink, then tousled his hair. When the nurse exasperatedly wheeled him off back from where they came, the boy had a hint of a smile on his own face, and Peter found he felt good. Maybe pain wasn’t the only thing that made him human, after all.

Shrugging off his lab coat and carelessly throwing it over his shoulder once more, Peter turned back to Lydia. The clock on the far back wall that he could see just over her shoulder told him that it was only about ten minutes until the new year. He didn’t want to end 2016 without saying every thing that needed to be said, so he focused his blue eyes on Lydia’s green ones and said, “I’m...sorry...Lydia. For...whatever that’s possibly worth to you — even if it’s little to nothing at all, I —”

No. He had said it once, and he knew she’d heard it. If she wanted to say it, she would have done so by now. He wasn’t going to say it again, make himself look like a damn desperate fool, an idiot, in his own workplace. He’d acted stupidly enough for one year — why add to the list so close to the end of it? With a sigh, Peter tore his gaze from Lydia and headed for the sliding glass doors to the front entrance of the hospital grounds.

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

“Well, you weren’t exactly discouraging her so I wouldn’t blame her.” She remarked back. “Unless you just like the attention.” She accused. Or at least she didn’t see him trying to counter the doctor’s words. Anyone within earshot would have known it was obvious she was trying to hit on him, and since he got off at midnight Lydia assumed she probably wanted to leave with him, too.

As much as Lydia hated it, Peter was right. Though she pulled a face at his eye roll. Lydia wasn’t just there to make small conversation and figure out when Peter was getting off work. She shrugged, “No, it’s not why I’m here.” She said, digging her hand in her purse to pull out the stethoscope. She brushed her thumb over the cold metal, where his name was engraved. She thought briefly about the last encounter they had over the stethoscope.

She didn’t wait for Peter to take it, she stepped forward and pressed it into his hand. “I don’t want this. It’s not mine, it’s yours. So take it. I don’t care if you don’t even use it–it’s yours.” she said, dropping her hand though she didn’t step away to open the space between them.

She flicked her eyes over his face, standing this close to him reminded her of yet another event with Peter, what happened the last time they were together–the kiss they shared and more importantly, what Peter had said to her. She glanced down at her watch, “Okay well, I don’t want to keep you from going home, so.” she gestured to the door where Peter was standing, blocking her exit. She wanted to leave before Peter could try to give the stethoscope back to her.

Liking attention? That was rich coming from Lydia. Peter almost said so, too, but thought better of the impending argument that would ensue if he did and kept his mouth shut. There was also the small voice in the back of his head, whispering snide little remarks insinuating that Lydia was right. He was confused by Jennifer’s advances, slightly off-put, but there was still some part of him that acknowledged how nice it felt to be wanted. Even if it was by some druid coworker. 

After all, he was only human. Part wolf, yes, born and raised, but part human, too, and the instant Lydia’s hand brushed against his chest, Peter was painfully reminded of just how human he really was. At a young age, he had taught Derek control, and he had always reminded his nephew that there was one thing that distinguished man from wolf — one thing that brought you back:

Pain.

Pain?

Yes, Derek, pain. Pain makes you human.

Ironic — that he’d almost forgotten his own little lessons until Lydia showed up, standing so close to him, reminding him. Peter wasn’t sure if he was raising his hand to grab hold of Lydia’s while it was still on his chest, or if he was going for the stethoscope; she dropped her hand as his came up, and he almost shuddered at the way he felt when their fingertips brushed lightly across one another, even for the briefest of moments. Then his hands were touching cold titanium, lifeless metal. He grazed his thumb over the tiny notches in the headset, feeling the letters that spelled out his name. He should move over, let Lydia leave him. He could shove the stethoscope back deep in the same drawer that held the cufflinks Talia had given him, and the birthday card Leon hand made, and the silver bullet Michael had given him as an inside joke...

“You won’t,” Peter said, finally speaking up. He shrugged out of his lab coat to and slung it over his shoulder before draping the stethoscope around his neck. “Because I’m leaving now.”

Peter turned and opened the door before looking back at Lydia, waiting for her to leave with him, “Well...?”

Are you coming or not?

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

[dr-hale-blog]

rosesandcharms:

Lydia’s mouth dropped open slightly at Peter’s comment, a look crossing her face as if he had just insulted her with his insinuation. “I did not!” She hissed back, wiggling out from beneath his hands. “And if I did then so what? Maybe now she’ll learn it’s not attractive to have slobber hanging from her mouth when trying to carry on a conversation–or whatever that was.” She said, narrowing her eyes at Peter as she passed him to step into the empty exam room. 

She pressed her lips together, eyes drifting towards the door where said doctor stood moments ago. She cleared her throat and shifted on her feet, glancing down at the floor. “So, your coworker..” she said, wondering how she was going to find out if they were just coworkers or something more. “she seemed very..” Lydia trailed off, suddenly finding all the positive adjectives in her vocabulary disappearing from her mind.

She decided to just change the topic instead. “It figures you’d be working on New Years Eve. How late will you be here?” She questioned, though she knew it was none of her business it might at least give her insight to if he had plans tonight, especially if they were plans with anyone specific.

It was almost a reflex at this point — whenever Lydia would get sassy with him, Peter would roll his eyes at the ceiling. It had nothing to do with her annoying him. It was the only mechanism he’d been able to pick up on to keep Lydia from thinking he genuinely cared, or that any thing she said could actually hurt him. Though he missed the days where Lydia made him show emotion like he’d never seen or felt before; now every thing between them was forced down into the past, made to seem as though it never happened, like nothing had ever existed between them. Nothing but petty spats and rolled eyes and jealousy and pain.

Even though Peter knew there was more.

And apparently so did Lydia. She was getting a feel, trying to suss out whether or not he and Jennifer were really just co-workers, or if they were something more. Peter wasn’t like Parrish — he knew not to shit where he ate. Even if he had been interested in Jennifer — which he wasn’t — he wouldn’t ever dream of hopping into bed with her. It just wasn’t wise. Nonetheless, watching Lydia try to coyly act apathetic was starting to become painful — she wasn’t half as good at appearing cool and collected the way he was. Peter rolled his eyes again and said, “She seemed very forward, yes. I know.” 

Because “forward” was the only word that came to mind.

“And I’m leaving at midnight; but I highly doubt you came here just to ask when I leave,” Peter continued, shutting the exam room door behind him. He held out his hands as if expecting Lydia to give him a concrete answer, instead of skirting around every topic of conversation like some skittish little animal. 

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

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rosesandcharms:

The list of excuses Lydia had for not returning the stethoscope days earlier were incredibly long. Not that she was purposely waiting around to return it at the right time, she was just busy with work and such. She had taken the night off, though as the clock ticked nearer and nearer to the midnight mark, and more and more people got drunk, the more Lydia started thinking about how she didn’t want to spend the night alone and exactly who she would rather be spending the night with.

That’s how she found herself standing in the lobby of the emergency room, stethoscope stuck in her purse, watching a dark-headed doctor blatantly hit on her Peter.

Honestly, Lydia found it almost humorous how desperate the doctor was acting. She folded her arms across her chest, head tilted sightly to the side as she watched the exchange play out in front of her. She could feel the jealously heat curling inside of her, and though she tried desperately to shake it off, it wasn’t exactly working.

“This is pathetic.” She said to herself, huffing and crossing the empty space between her and Peter, her heels echoing off the ceramic tile floor. 

She sidled next to Peter, pink lips stretching into an impatient smile, “Hi. I need to talk to you.” She said before turning her attention to the doctor who was drooling over Peter mere seconds ago. Speaking of drool – ”Oh, you got a little something,” she gestured to her own mouth and chin area before waving her hand and saying, “Never mind.” 

She twisted her attention back to Peter, “We need to talk. Now.” She repeated, glancing over her shoulder one last time, “Would you mind? Thanks.” She said, not waiting for a response before she gestured impatiently at Peter.

Jennifer Blake looked as though she had been hit by a freight train; then she looked as though she were the freight train. The last thing Peter needed was to be stuck between two alpha women, both of whom were interested in him; even if that was every other man’s wet dream. And the last thing Peter wanted was to intervene on Jennifer’s behalf when Lydia very subtly began hinting at flaws in her appearance. 

“Okay,” Peter said hurriedly, cutting off Lydia not only with his voice, but also by placing his hands on her shoulders and lightly steering her toward the preliminary exam rooms situated across the waiting room floor. He thought of mouthing an apology to Dr. Blake, whose face seemed to be stuck in a sort of grimace that suggested she was permanently smelling old gym socks, but decided that he would rather not acknowledge Lydia’s remarks as being derogatory. At least not to Jennifer.

“What in the hell was that,” Peter hissed through clenched teeth as soon as they were far enough away from Jennifer. “You just insulted a co-worker of mine who happens to be a very important person in this hospital!”

Mentally, Peter felt he shouldn’t have been so harsh with Lydia. But a large part of him was still reeling with the pain she caused him after they last saw one another, and whenever he looked at Lydia now, he saw her walking away from him once more in his mind. He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face, and said, “You can’t just show up at my workplace and insult the people I work with. However...insanely annoy—” 

A more important thought crossed Peter’s mind that made him break off mid sentence; his hand stopped, frozen in place on the door handle of an empty exam room in from of him as he wondered — Lydia was jealous. Of course, he already knew that the moment she came over to him and started on Jennifer, but he hadn’t really absorbed what it meant. She sought him out, and when she found him with another woman, she grew jealous. Without even knowing the context. Peter didn’t say another word. He pushed open the exam room door and gestured for Lydia to enter, trying to keep the smug smirk off his face.

[dr-hale-blog]

R E S O L U T I O N

The new year was minutes away, but that didn’t stop the injured from piling up in the ER waiting room at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. A good number of the people being rushed in, either by ambulance or worried family members, had some form of burn or explosion wound from carelessly or drunkenly messing around with fireworks. Peter had some small amount of pity for them, but the majority of him was grateful that most of those idiots had only injured themselves and not others. He didn’t have much patience when it came to people burning others, even if it was accidental.

“Dr. Hale?”

Peter turned around, white lab coat billowing slightly behind him. He had been staring at a family sitting nervously in the corner of the ER waiting room — a young boy of about five was holding his arm gingerly, sniffling to himself, while what Peter assumed to be the boy’s older brother kept his arm wrapped around him in a protective embrace. It reminded Peter of himself and Derek. Now, though, he was meeting the gaze of a coworker.

“Doctor Blake,” Peter nodded at the woman beside him and turned his gaze back to the family just in time to see the little boy escorted back to fast track, his brother beside him.

“What is the head of Cardiology doing in the ER on New Year’s Eve?” Jennifer asked. Peter saw her raising an almost promiscuous eyebrow at him through his peripheral vision. “I thought you took the night off.”

“Well,” Peter said, still not looking Jennifer Blake in the eye; he wanted to watch the door close behind the family. “I had nothing better to do.”

“Nobody to spend tonight celebrating with?”

With that, Peter turned his full attention to Dr. Blake. He expected to make some witty, but otherwise off-putting remark to her somewhat blatant advances, when he caught a glimpse of something auburn just over Blake’s shoulder. He’d know that golden red color from anywhere.

“Well?” Jennifer Blake asked.

“Lydia.” Peter replied.

@rosesandcharms

[dr-hale-blog]

C O N S U L T

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cunningandbeautiful:

Drew rolled her eyes at Peter’s petty comments and the way he looked her over–”Childish”, she repeated to him once more before rolling her eyes but moving to sit down on her couch. At least the could act civil, hopefully, for the next nine months. It was going to be a long, long nine months.

She pressed her lips together, “Before we discuss anything, I need you to not mention this to Jordan. Not yet.” She wanted to be the one to discuss this with him, she didn’t want Jordan to find out from someone else and get the idea she was going behind his back.

Memories of standing in the NICU with Lydia drifted back to him as Peter watched Drew take a seat. That was the closest he ever came to working with babies while on the job — now he was expected to play supernatural obstetrician to a baby conceived with succubal genetics and...whatever the hell brand of supernatural Jordan Parrish happened to be. That, Peter thought, would be something he’d get onto Jordan about later — how he foolishly conceived an offspring without knowing what powers he’d be passing onto it.

He had also planned to chastise the lieutenant for impregnating a succubus in the first place, having not known the truth about their nature; and then Peter planned on revealing that nature to Jordan. But with Drew staring up at him, swallowing her pride — the worst thing she’d probably ever swallowed — he realized perhaps it wasn’t his place. For the first time ever, Peter decided to stay in his lane, and said, “Fine. I won’t tell. I trust you will anyway. He may be an idiot, but he’s hardly brainless. He’s bound to realize something, especially considering we’ll be seeing so much more of each other than usual.”

So, so much more.

Falling into his characteristic pacing, Peter brushed his hand over his mouth and the stubble of his face before he turned back to Drew and said, “While we’re on the topic of things Parrish should know...”