Peter’s words stung, they made her chest clench with the painful memories that Peter had left her–the restless nights, the tears, the fear. For a second, an all too long second, the emotions flickered across her face before she immediately shielded them from his view. He didn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing what he had done to her, how it had effected her on the inside.
“You know, Peter,” Lydia mocked, tilting her chin up in defiance, “for someone who pretends to be so powerful, you sure are pathetic enough to manipulate someone who was already vulnerable in the first place. So cowardly.” She spat back at him. Peter knew she was afraid of him, he knew he could use that against her, use it to break her down–to strike fear into her. He knew that Allison, Stiles, Jackson, Scott, that they were all pulling away from her and she was alone, left in the dark. So of course anyone showing her attention was going to get her attention.
At his last words, she visibly jerked back, a million emotions flickering across her face. Her lips parted in disbelief. Perhaps she shouldn’t have expected anything less from Peter Hale. Maybe she thought there were redeeming qualities within him, maybe she was wrong.
Even if Lydia did think Peter hadn’t seen a dozen emotions dancing across her face, she would have been a fool to think he couldn’t smell them radiating off her body. Fear was the most predominant one, but there was something else in there, something like pride which Lydia seemed to beam with when she called Peter out. He could have smirked if it wasn’t for the now all to familiar twang of guilt that seemed to be taunting him ever since he’d escaped Eichen. He now owed Lydia his life twice -- and one of those times, she’d had a choice. A choice to leave him for dead. A choice she hadn’t made. He swallowed, almost nervous, but remained standing just as tall and defiant as Lydia.
“I don’t pretend to be powerful, Lydia, I am powerful.” Peter snarled, and, as if to prove himself, took a stride closer to Lydia. “I didn’t need to take advantage of you when you as good as let me in. You think I was taking advantage of you, Lydia?” Peter clicked his tongue in mock pity and struggled to hide his triumphant smirk. “We took advantage of each other.”
The smirk should have broken through at that moment. At the point where Lydia’s lips hung slightly parted in sheer amazement and disgust at his words. At the point where he knew he had, once again, gotten the better of Lydia Martin. But where would the triumph be in breaking her again? He’d done it far too many times and it was beginning to grow old. Or perhaps he was beginning to feel guilty for it almost constantly? He tilted his head to the side and studied Lydia’s face for a moment before he reached down and tugged his shirt up slightly to reveal his side -- stitches removed, not even a scar in sight. He lowered his shirt back down, and even though he struggled over the words, finally managed to murmur, “Thank you.”
Lydia rolled her eyes and sat the supplies on the bed next to Peter, “Yes, I know what I’m doing.” She said, voice trailing on thin patience. She disappeared into her bathroom to retrieve peroxide and a handful of towels. When she got back to the bed, she immediately dropped to her knees to get a better look at the wound. She flicked her eyes up towards him briefly before she grabbed the peroxide and dumped a generous amount on one of the towels. “This will probably sting.” She said, and without hesitation she pressed it against the wound. Whether he would heal from infection or not, Lydia still needed the wound to be cleaned from dirt and grime before she could begin to stitch him.
Peter countered Lydia’s easy roll of her eyes with one of his own. He was half-tempted to shout some snarky remark at her, to opine about how most people nowadays assumed a few hours in front of Netflix watching Grey’s Anatomy suddenly made them neurosurgeons. He began regretting that he had Lydia break his arm -- he could stitch at least ten times as well as she thought she could. But Peter kept his mouth shut and waited as patiently as possible until Lydia returned. He made to say something he’d wanted to say since Lydia started helping him -- though it was probably the wolfsbane that wanted to say it, but then noted the overflow of hydrogen peroxide Lydia was dumping on one of her fluffy pink towels. His eyebrows shot up as he remarked, “I think that’s more than en--” Peter cut off with a snarl as Lydia shoved the towel up against his side. He tilted his head back and clenched his teeth, before looking back down at Lydia. “You know, I was almost going to thank you until this little display.”
Lukas offered out his hand, readying himself to support the older male down to the hospital. Honestly, he didn’t know how he’d been able to maintain his weight, but he guessed it was something to do with the demon blood running through his veins that had given him the strength to do so. “We better get going then, you look awful. No offence.”
A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his head nodding in agreement to him leading. If the guy wanted to lead out in front then so be it, but Lukas was pretty sure he wouldn’t get very far without his help. “If we find you a wheelchair, we can play it off that we’re visiting someone or you’re getting bionic legs or something. Plus, I won’t have to carry your heavy arse all over the place.”
Peter stared curiously at Lukas’s outstretched hand. Nobody had ever really offered to help him before -- not in the recent past at least. He continued to scrutinize the gesture, wondering if perhaps this was some kind of joke. If he took Lukas’s hand, would Lukas simply shove him back to the ground? Would this gesture of trust only be something Lukas used to hurt him now or later? To kill him? Demon kid. Demon kid with no control. Who in the hell knew what he would do? Wordlessly, Peter reached out and allowed Lukas to pull him to his feet.
That’s when he heard the boy’s suggestion. A wheelchair. “No.” Peter said firmly, shaking his head. He didn’t need a fucking wheelchair, he was very adamant about that. There was no way, none, that he would put himself willingly back into the very device that carried his lifeless body around for six long years of hell. But when he thought about it, it made sense. That would put Peter in the lead, better hide his wounds, and avoid suspicion. He was far from happy about it, and part of him wondered if it would trigger any awful memories, but that was the most logical suggestion he’d heard thus far.
“Fine.” Peter snarled. “But I do this under protest.”
Almost as soon as Prada was pushed into her arms, the small dog was wiggling her way down. Lydia barely had time to set the dog on the ground before Prada was scurrying back into the house, yapping happily as she went. Lydia watched her go before she turned back to Peter.
She narrowed her eyes, calculating him. He was patronizing her, and that was one thing that really irritated her. Lydia was not a child, she was not an idiot, and she didn’t deserve to be treated like one. She cocked her head to the side and pursed her lips, “Really? Because, the last time you were in my yard like this you were about fifteen years younger and asking to kiss me.” She said, boldly.
“The last time I was in your yard,” Peter snarled out, rounding on Lydia with a certain sort of contempt resting behind his gaze. “I was willing to do whatever it took to control you into bringing me back to life.” He could practically see the aura of satisfaction coming off of Lydia, as if she were proud to be calling him out on one of his numerous, dark past escapades. As if she thought that standing up to him now would make up for the past, when she’d let him trample all over her, inhabit every dark and far-reaching corner of her mind, bite her -- make her his. He began to wonder, as his thoughts drifted, if she still had the scar he’d left her with. The physical one, not the plural mental ones. Part of him begin to well up with guilt. He swallowed it down and regained his apathy.
“You know, Lydia,” Peter finally managed to say, offering his most annoyingly condescending smile to the banshee in front of him. “For someone with such a high IQ, you sure can be so easily manipulated. So gullible.” Perhaps he should stop speaking, stop while he was ahead. After all, Lydia Martin was the reason he was alive. Not just because she had literally raised him from the dead, but because she had just saved him from death only days ago. She could have stood there and watched him bleed out, but she brought him into her home -- the place he’d invaded as well as her mind -- and nursed him back to health. He studied Lydia for a minute, wondering if he should just turn and leave instead of letting her get the better of him. But his mind always seemed to move a little bit faster than his brain whenever he got a bit too riled up.
“Tell me, Lydia, which psychotic piece of trash tasted the sweetest to you? The venomous Kanima -- Jackson, was it? The murderous Alpha twin?--- Or me?”
Who was the last person you held hands with? Technically speaking, Lydia...though she only did that to break my arm, so...
Are you outgoing or shy? Outgoing.
Who are you looking forward to seeing? Nobody.
Are you easy to get along with? Ha.
If you were drunk would the person you like take care of you? I don’t like anybody, thanks.
What kind of people are you attracted to? Compulsively drawn to cute but narcissistic women
Do you think you’ll be in a relationship two months from now? Ha.
Who from the opposite gender is on your mind? Nobody.
Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable? I don’t talk about sex that often.
Who was the last person you had a deep conversation with? Cora
What does the most recent text that you sent say? An apology, if you can believe that.
What are your 5 favorite songs right now? I don’t exactly listen to music.
Do you like it when people play with your hair? No. Unless it’s sexual, then by all means, have at it.
Do you believe in luck and miracles? No.
What good thing happened this summer? I’m no longer in the psych ward, so...
Would you kiss the last person you kissed again? Yes
Do you think there is life on other planets? Do you think there are werewolves on earth?
Do you still talk to your first crush? No.
Do you like bubble baths? Guilty.
Do you like your neighbors? I currently am homeless.
What are you bad habits? What are my good ones?
Where would you like to travel? Anywhere.
Do you have trust issues? My nephew’s girlfriend burned my whole house and family to ash, so you tell me?
Favorite part of your daily routine? The part where it’s time to go back to sleep.
What part of your body are you most uncomfortable with? My eyes.
What do you do when you wake up? Run.
Do you wish your skin was lighter or darker? Neither.
Who are you most comfortable around? Derek and Cora.
Have any of your ex’s told you they regret breaking up? I don’t date.
Do you ever want to get married? No. Someday.
Is your hair long enough for a pony tail? It used to be.
Which celebrities would you have a threesome with? I don’t do threesomes, but I’d love to get Ellen Pompeo.
Spell your name with your chin. No.
Do you play sports? What sports? Used to be captain of the basketball and baseball teams in high school. Don’t have time for petty things like sports now.
Would you rather live without TV or music? TV
Have you ever liked someone and never told them? No. Yes.
What do you say during awkward silences? Moving on.
Describe your dream girl/guy? Tall, strawberry blonde, gorgeous, and I love a good screamer.
What are your favorite stores to shop in? H&M, Gap, American Apparel
What do you want to do after high school? I am out of high school, idiot.
Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance? I have to.
If your being extremely quiet what does it mean? I’m calculating.
Do you smile at strangers? Do I look like my nephew? I smile at everybody.
Trip to outer space or bottom of the ocean? Ocean.
What makes you get out of bed in the morning? The thought of climbing back in it later.
What are you paranoid about? I’m not Stiles, I don’t get paranoid.
Have you ever been high? No.
Have you ever been drunk? No.
Have you done anything recently that you hope nobody finds out about? I let Lydia Martin take care of me.
What was the colour of the last hoodie you wore? I don’t wear hoodies, that’s something teenager like McCall and his ragtime team of misfit toys wear.
Ever wished you were someone else? No.
One thing you wish you could change about yourself? Eye color.
Favourite makeup brand? Whatever she wears.
Favourite store? H&M
Favourite blog? No.
Favourite colour? Green.
Favourite food? Pasta.
Last thing you ate? Bread.
First thing you ate this morning? Bread.
Ever won a competition? For what? Free throw champion and home run derby in high school.
Been suspended/expelled? For what? No, I’m too handsome to be thrown out.
Been arrested? For what? Technically no...?
Ever been in love? No.
Tell us the story of your first kiss? She kissed me, I kissed back, crazy concept, isn’t it?
Are you hungry right now? Always.
Do you like your tumblr friends more than your real friends? What the hell is a tumblr?
Facebook or Twitter? What is this shit?
Twitter or Tumblr? Stop.
Are you watching tv right now? Do people keep forgetting I am homeless?
Names of your bestfriends? I don’t have friends.
Craving something? What? Someone.
What colour are your towels? In Eichen, they’re white. I am homeless though, so I don’t own towels now.
How many pillows do you sleep with? Derek gives me one flat one when I crash at his loft.
Do you sleep with stuffed animals? No.
How many stuffed animals do you think you have? None?
Favourite animal? Really?
What colour is your underwear? Grey.
Chocolate or Vanilla? Vanilla.
Favourite ice cream flavour? Cookie dough.
What colour shirt are you wearing? Black.
What colour pants? Jeans.
Favourite tv show? I don’t watch tv.
Favourite movie? Back to the Future.
Mean Girls or Mean Girls 2? Mean Girls.
Mean Girls or 21 Jump Street? Mean Girls.
Favourite character from Mean Girls? Everybody from the sexually active band geeks table.
Favourite character from Finding Nemo? Gil.
First person you talked to today? Derek.
Last person you talked to today? Lydia.
Name a person you hate? Argent
Name a person you love? Laura, Derek, Cora, Talia, etc.
Is there anyone you want to punch in the face right now? Scott McCall.
In a fight with someone? Derek and Cora
How many sweatpants do you have? Too many.
How many sweaters/hoodies do you have? Not much.
Last movie you watched? The Breakfast Club.
Favourite actress? None.
Favourite actor? None.
Do you tan a lot? Not exactly.
Have any pets? No?
How are you feeling? Fine, thanks.
Do you type fast? Yes.
Do you regret anything from your past? Laura.
Can you spell well? Yes.
Do you miss anyone from your past? Laura. Talia. Dad.
Ever been to a bonfire party? Yes.
Ever broken someone’s heart? Yes, but not romantically.
Have you ever been on a horse? No.
What should you be doing? Not this.
Is something irritating you right now? These questions.
Have you ever liked someone so much it hurt? No.
Do you have trust issues? I know for a fact that this question was already asked.
Who was the last person you cried in front of? Nobody.
What was your childhood nickname? My dad and sister used to call me “little cub”.
Have you ever been out of your province/state? Yes.
Do you play the Wii? No.
Are you listening to music right now? No.
Do you like chicken noodle soup? Yes.
Do you like Chinese food? Yes.
Favourite book? 1984.
Are you afraid of the dark? Hardly.
Are you mean? I can be.
Is cheating ever okay? No...
Can you keep white shoes clean? Not for long.
Do you believe in love at first sight? Yes.
Do you believe in true love? Yes.
Are you currently bored? No, just annoyed.
What makes you happy? Simple things.
Would you change your name? No.
What your zodiac sign? Scorpio.
Do you like subway? Yes.
Your bestfriend of the opposite sex likes you, what do you do? I don’t have one.
Who’s the last person you had a deep conversation with? This was already asked too.
Favourite lyrics right now? “Hold yourself, howl and scream, finally feel everything joining underneath”
Can you count to one million? If I didn’t have a life, maybe.
Dumbest lie you ever told? Not sure, there are plenty.
Do you sleep with your doors open or closed? open.
How tall are you? 5′10″
Curly or Straight hair? Either.
Brunette or Blonde? Blonde.
Summer or Winter? Winter.
Night or Day? Night.
Favourite month? October.
Are you a vegetarian? No.
Dark, milk or white chocolate? None.
Tea or Coffee? Tea.
Was today a good day? Sure.
Mars or Snickers? Neither.
What’s your favourite quote? I don’t have one.
Do you believe in ghosts? Yes.
Get the closest book next to you, open it to page 42, what’s the first line on that page? I don’t have any near me.
Lydia didn’t comment on Peter’s words–he had been there before, after all. And right now, she really wasn’t up to taking a trip down memory lane. She watched his back until it disappeared before she quickly rushed to the guest bathroom. After some rummaging through the cabinet, she found the first aid kit. It had only been cracked open once, but it still had all the necessary supplies that they needed.
She was in her room within a few minutes time, and she closed the door softly behind her. Now that they were in the light and Lydia could actually see, she could see the extent to the damage. “Sit.” She instructed, “Unless you’d rather use that–” she nodded to his still broken arm, “to stitch yourself up.” She sat the kit on her vanity and opened it, pulling out gauze, suture, and forceps.
“Sit?” Peter asked, confused. What, like Lydia was going to play nurse to him? The last nurse he had was arguably more psychotic than he was and he had taken a bit too much pleasure in killing her, but perhaps that was something Lydia really didn’t need to know about right now. “Sit.” he repeated again, following Lydia’s gaze to her bed. So much for not bleeding on her duvet -- though, he’d still try not to. He plopped down on her bed and just about moaned at how soft it was. It was like sitting on a cloud and he was tempted to fall asleep there -- at this rate, though, he probably wouldn’t wake up. He checked his arm to see that, while still not perfectly set, it was doing much better and was about to argue that he could stitch himself up when he noticed Lydia already taking out supplies. “Do you even know what you’re doing?” he asked skeptically.
As Derek started to lead Peter back to the loft, he looked at his Uncle. Ready to threaten his throat again, he was surprised at the words that really came out of his mouth. “Yeah, whatever, start hobbling I’m not doing all the work.” Okay maybe he meant to say something else, but he wasn’t really used to saying anything nice anymore.
Peter shuffled around awkwardly, not really used to leaning on Derek for any kind of support, seeing as it had always been the other way around. Hell, he leaned on Lydia in the recent past to bring him back to life, but he still refused to lean on Derek. Especially not literally like now. “You can definitely tell,” Peter said, wincing as he moved with Derek. “That your Alpha strength is gone.”
Scott clenched his jaw as Peter appeared behind him, arms coming to cross against his chest. “Some people are trying to go for a run, not be accosted by murderers.” His eyes narrowed at Peter, trying to rack his brain with reasons he would be out here and not locked away in a cell at the Eichen House. “Aren’t you supposed to be in a straight jacket and behind bars?” Scott huffed loudly. All he had wanted was a nice, quiet run through the forrest, to maybe be able to wolf out and enjoy the decent weather they had been having. Instead he got psychotic Peter Hale and his eternal assholery. Just what he’d always wanted. Great.
“Accosted, huh? Somebody’s been studying their SAT vocabulary.” Peter gave Scott a sickeningly fowl smile. “But if you knew the real definition of the word ‘accosted’, little Scott, you would know that it means ‘to approach boldly and aggressively’ -- and I, myself, think I approached you rather kindly.” Peter walked around Scott, his eyes never straying from the boy. He had no intention of hurting Scott, but he had no clue if Scott wanted to hurt him. Being an Alpha changed something in wolves -- he wondered if Scott could feel it yet? Peter fought back the temptation to flick his claws out and form long, large, paint-peeling cuts in Scott’s bike. Maybe some other time. “You know, for a true Alpha, you really are agonizingly stupid.” Peter commented, rolling his eyes. “Does your SAT vocabulary not extend to the word ‘breakout’?”
“Welcome back..Welcome back!?” Cora’s anger often got the best of her, so she bit her tongue and stopped herself from going any further into her rant. She wasn’t here to yell at him, and she wasn’t here to raise the tension between the two even higher. Talk, she wanted to talk. Mustering up the courage to turn to face him. Decidedly crossing the room to the couch, she tentatively sat on the opposite end and propped her chin up in the palm of her hand, leaning her elbow against the arm of the couch. “How’d you do it – get out alive, I mean.” She’d like to do how he did a lot of things.
Peter kept his eyes shut against Cora’s little outburst. If he stopped focusing so much on everything around him, he could almost fall asleep. The soft pitter patters of the rain tapping their beat against the windows of the loft was becoming oddly comforting, like a lullaby. He could breathe in the scent of familiarity and peace and for once fall asleep and hope he wouldn’t be plagued by more night terrors. Yet he felt the couch give under new weight and noted that Cora had sat down also. “I almost died if that makes you feel any better?” Peter shot back, though his tone was far from scathing.
