Jules of Nature
ellievsbear
Today's Document
if i look back, i am lost
shark vs the universe
Misplaced Lens Cap
tannertan36
Kiana Khansmith
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styofa doing anything
Cosmic Funnies
JVL
AnasAbdin
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
NASA
Janaina Medeiros
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ojovivo
will byers stan first human second
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from Argentina
seen from Poland
seen from Türkiye
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Finland
seen from Switzerland
seen from Türkiye
seen from T1
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Türkiye
seen from Canada
seen from Italy
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seen from United States
seen from Japan
seen from Germany
seen from United States
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@petopher-events
AU | if sheriff stilinski has to even look at one of peter and chris’ children again, he’s going to start demanding child support payments. because he doesn’t get paid enough for how often he has to arrest them, clothe them, and deal with their never-ending drama.
(but also, he’s emotionally adopted them all and everyone knows it, no matter how much he feigns annoyance)
For the Rest of My Life
Petopher, 6k, hurt-comfort and also domestic fluff
Summary: Chris Argent's normal mourning routine is interrupted by a bleeding werewolf who has snuck into his house.
Written for the @petopher-events even though I'm late lol woops
Excerpt below:
Chris froze the second he stepped into his bedroom and cursed silently to himself.
A person sat slumped in the armchair in the corner.
Chris took two quiet steps toward his bed. The easiest gun to reach was the one hidden on the back of his headboard. All of the others would involve opening a drawer or closet, which would not only create noise but also extra steps.
As Chris slid his fingers over the gun, the figure in the chair finally lifted his head and Chris froze again. “Peter?”
The werewolf huffed out a sound that might have been a laugh, but was far too weak to convey actual humor.
“You look terrible,” Chris said conversationally as he finished lifting the gun from behind his bed. He ran through a quick check and confirmed that it was loaded and functional.
“And you are very naked,” Peter replied softly.
“You’re bleeding,” Chris countered.
“Quite a lot,” Peter confirmed as he looked down at the hand covering his stomach. “Although it’s slowed down a bit. That probably just means there isn’t much left, because it definitely isn’t healing.”
“Why are you here?”
Peter tilted his head back and stared at Chris appraisingly. He had a fleeting moment to wish he had at least tied the towel around his waist. “Because you’re the only one who can save my life.” Chris snorted and Peter smirked faintly. “And if you won’t, then you deserve the kill. Much more than that infant who shot me did, anyway.”
Chris couldn’t help but lift both his eyebrows. “The great Peter Hale… was taken down… by an infant?”
Read the rest on ao3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Born Blue: Bonus Scene
Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Locker Room, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Scars, First Meetings, High School, Original Character Death(s), Death in Childbirth, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs
Added Tags for this chapter: Licking, Lots of Licking A little bit extra for Petopher Event 2023
Summary: Bonus Scene: Chris has a hangover and more scar licking
@petopher-events
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Peter sighs for the third time in as many minutes.
It doesn’t phase Stiles, this is merely the prelude to his self-proclaimed angel investor’s most annoying habits.
Day 7 | magic
@petopher-events
Long Road to Home [FIN]
Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6]
Prompt: Magic
Tell him that you will never know any better. Pretend to understand why that isn’t good enough.
Start Here by Caitlyn Siehl
Erica and Boyd are welcomed into the Pack without issue, complaint, or concern. Allison takes the time to apologize, fingers twisting in front of her, voice quiet, and there's tension there that lingers in the air around them like a black rain cloud. There may always be but Chris sees the moment they get through the first hurdle, Erica calling his daughter Hawkeye before shoving a bowl of pasta at her and returning to the opposite side of the room. Allison's hand wrapped around Isaac's has to help and the night continues on.
Their wariness around him isn't much better but at least he's done this before. Derek and Cora trust him well enough now and he can do it again, slowly but surely. They have the time and while they wait, they begin plotting out what to do next. Derek suggests pulling down the old Hale house finally, as it's been used far too long by unsavory sorts as a meeting place and it really isn't all that safe to be in. They all agree and Peter has a field day with designing what should go in its place and how they’ll approach patching up the lake house (they decide on a greenhouse with rooms to train underneath it and Chris thinks that’s a wonderful idea, a peaceful but meaningful monument to one Hell of a family).
"Mind you, this is all mostly because my humble penthouse isn't going to hold all of us much longer. God knows you two don't like returning to that house in the suburbs and need someplace to go on the weekends. No, we need to take care of the lake house first and make sure we have all the necessary wards and security that entails while we clear the land. Perhaps we can speak about it more at length at dinner, say Friday at six? You are, after all, a security expert, dear Christopher."
Allison laughs at him when he realizes the day before dinner that Peter has asked him on a date.
"Aw, come on, Mr. A. It won't be that bad."
"Why are you in my room, Erica?"
"Cora is downstairs playing with guns." Chris is already moving at that, long strides carrying him through the house as Erica calls out after him, "She's in with the safe and Allison is with her, she'll be fine. She said you wouldn't mind and would need help picking out an outfit anyways!"
"I mind!"
The giggles of three teen girls surround him as he rounds a corner and Chris can't help but smile, even as he admonishes Cora for trying to sneak an assault rifle out of his house. He hands her a high tension sling shot instead, shaking his head as Allison pleads to go to the shooting range at the edge of town. He agrees on one condition: they allow him to dress himself.
(He should have been more specific about date and time, or known something was up when they all agreed easily - they are tricky people, especially when together, and they get to go to the range AND he ends up with a judge panel while changing the next day, a Henley that 'brings out his eyes' being thrust over his head, Erica catcalling from the corner as his daughter and Cora all but manhandle him into the bathroom, and he's never been so happy in his life as he's shoved out the door by Boyd and Isaac into Peter's awaiting chest).
There may be making out in the back of his truck like their teenagers before they return home. There may also be a disgusted look on Derek's face when they come back, the young man horrified at the state of his uncle's hair and clothes and scent. There may be a shovel talk at the dinner table from the entire Pack afterwards, which strangely focuses on Peter and a loud declaration of, "You hurt Mr. A and we'll seam rip all your nice suits so subtly that they will fall off you whenever you wear them next." It’s creative, he’ll give them that.
They have kept their heads down in town through it all, stayed out of the way of everyone else, and life continues on as if this is the way it's always been. Midterms come and go, college applications start to get filled out by those who want to do so, and Derek picks up a job, a mechanic assistant at someplace local that they celebrate with cupcakes that Chris most definitely baked with Allison and didn't buy behind Peter's back from the German bakery on the other side of town (the look of amused betrayal Peter gives him when he finds the box is easily wiped away by pinning him to the nearest wall with a promise of a long night ahead). The newer pups get keys, and Allison smiles more while complaining about school work less. A construction company is hired to tear down the old house, after a few weekends where the Hales go to clean out what's in the different rooms, take the time to finally see what's left (they've asked to do it on their own but the Pack still follows at a distance, waiting on the trails nearby while leaving them to it, but stepping in when they step out with their boxes and haunted eyes, arms open wide and picnic lunches ready, conversation carried on without them until they are ready to come back to them). Somewhere in there Derek gets a girlfriend who hasn't lied to or enchanted him. Everyone is ecstatic and welcomes her to dinners when she’s in town but still asks Chris to run a background check on Braeden, just in case.
The lake house is a personal project, all elbow grease and trips to the hardware store, a project that only Pack hands touch. A shared office is the first room done, Chris and Peter immediately starting to work out of it so they can run around during the day and fix the little things. Next is the kitchen and living spaces. By the time the bedrooms are done, everyone is over at the house all the time anyway and shifting Peter, Derek, Cora, and Isaac's things is hardly work. It's only when Allison approaches their Alpha late one week as they gear up for the fall holidays that things once more shift on their axis.
"The house has a lot of memories but they aren't good ones. Can we maybe come here? To stay?"
"Allison…" She hasn’t talked to him about this and Chris doesn’t want to impose, but she scowls at him and shakes her head, braided hair flopping around slightly with the venomousness of it.
"Dad, we practically have to drag you out of Peter's bed on the weekends when we want to go somewhere with you." With her hip out and her arms crossed, she reminds him so much of Victoria it hurts for half a second before the relief that his wife is still with them in some way rushes in. "It's time. Let's do it."
Peter accepts as graciously as he ever does, which means he immediately spirits away his daughter to choose a paint color for her room and bemoans the wardrobe that will be combined with his own. Chris doesn't mind all that, not when Peter tugs him close at night and whispers to him about the future of the Pack, about their future as a pair.
"One of these days I'm going to ask you to marry me," Chris warns the morning after their first night in their room and he's frying eggs for the adults who have work that morning, meaning Peter and Derek. "I'm not going to tell you when but you'll probably figure it out anyways. Better tell me now if that's not what you want."
"Oh Christopher, I will be delighted whenever it comes to pass. Now, I will kill you if you don't move out of the way of the coffee machine. And I will regret nothing."
Still not a morning person. Still one of the best things he's ever allowed himself to have.
When the holidays arrive, they can no longer ignore the rest of the town, nor do they really want to. Apparently, the Hales do big Christmases and they are constantly out, snapping up deals and painting the town red. They see performances at the local theater, volunteer at the long-term ward at the hospital, and drink what has to be gallons of cider. The lights that go up on the house are elegant but all encompassing to make up for lost time, so much so that Chris goes out and gets Allison black out window shades so she can sleep. There is music constantly somewhere, traditional folk music he's never heard before drifting on the air with the scent of cookies he can't place the kind of, and then there's the tree that requires everyone's help to decorate. Tradition, that’s what Cora says, eyes glittering in the multi-colored lights as she stares up at the fir tree and pretends she’s not thinking of her parents. Allison is the one that tucks into her side then, handing her an ornament, and they’re inseparable for the rest of the night.
It's a good day, the Saturday they dedicate to celebrating and decorating cookies, despite the mess that the colored frosting leaves. Everyone gets their own ornaments and stockings. Ice cream is also acquired later that night after some fancy risotto dish Peter puts in front of them, the whole lot of them jamming into two cars and somehow getting to the parlor that Chris remembers from a lifetime ago (and someone has to be sitting on someone's lap, surely, since there are eight of them and no Hale has ever had a practical car). It takes grace and coordination to get them even across the parking lot, Cora jumping on her brother's back for a ride while Erica walks backwards to tell a story about one of her finals getting interrupted by a bird through the window, Boyd trying desperately to make sure she doesn't trip. Allison is tucked under his own arm, her hand in Isaac's while his is clasped in Peter's. The world is cold and dark, air leaving them all in soft puffs of white, and the chatter doesn't stop even as Chris slows, glances through the windows and sees ghosts at an empty table. It dispel quickly with a shriek from Cora as Derek dumps her backwards into Peter, who thankfully is fast enough to catch her, laughing openly and carrying his niece into the place like a princess, much to her dismay.
Chris holds the door, ushering everyone else inside where it’s not warm but is warmer, and misses the way they attract a few stares. At least he does until he's about to step through as the last one in and hears a familiar voice.
"Uh. Mr. Argent?"
"Hello, Scott."
There are quite a few of them there watching the Pack through the windows as they argue over flavors and toppings (two scoops of sprinkles for the girls, extra chocolate sauce for the boys, spoiled, all of them). Some wear anger on their faces, some concern, and then one or two open curiosity. There are some kids behind Scott that Chris doesn't know, younger teens that he'll ask the pups about later. Right now, his hands simply slip into his pockets and he rocks back on his heels, all easy slopes of shoulders and a small smile.
"Something I can help you kids with?"
"What. What's going on? Why does it feel like… Peter can't be-"
"We're just out for ice cream. We'll be back in our territory after."
"No. That's not. You can get ice cream, it's just. You all feel. Different."
Different. Chris pays closer attention at that, having become used to his Pack being his whole world for a while now and unconcerned how they look to outsiders, so long as those outsiders don't mean them harm (and Scott is many things, Chris thinks, but he doesn't think he'll start a fight here, if he wants to start one at all). Glancing through the glass doors beside him, he sees the head tilt of Peter that says he's waiting for him, sees Isaac scrunching his nose as he orders the monstrosity Chris likes his milkshake to be - there's nothing wrong with key lime and pumpkin, thank you very much - and nods slowly as he realizes what they've done.
They acted like there was no one else in the world but them, even when just going to get ice cream, gazes flickering between each other and smiles flashing in the holiday lights. Even from where these kids would be watching they should be able to feel how connected they are, not just see it. It is a radius of effect, a vibration in the air, that speaks of more than just family but of Pack. There is power in each and every one of them that stems from that connection, their Alpha strong because the rest are stable, the rest are happy.
Chris smiles at Peter and gives a head bob. His wolf rolls his eyes and turns away, pleased that he doesn’t have to come rescue him from overly curious teen wolves.
They'd done that. They'd done this.
They made it.
"We're a Pack, Scott. We're meant to feel different to you. Maybe especially you, since you're another Alpha."
"Another. So there is-"
"Peter is Alpha of the Hale Pack, yes. Remember, our property and the Preserve is our territory. We agreed to that."
"But. Derek-"
"Was there as a representative of our Pack, as we told you when we got there. He would have been a great Alpha with the rest of us behind him, would have been able to juggle the responsibilities, but he doesn't have to now. He was allowed to make that choice. It's been good. I see you've expanded as well?"
"Uh. Yeah. Some more lacrosse players."
"Good, good. You'll have enough to make your own team soon. Let us know if you need anything, alright? You should still have the Pack email. Boyd checks it regularly, as does Peter. If it’s urgent, you still have Allison and Isaac’s numbers, I presume. But, I should get going before Erica attempts to add anything to my milkshake. Have a good night."
He disappears inside without any preamble and slides an arm around his wolf's waist, sipping at the milkshake he's given before herding everyone to two tables separated by a narrow aisle.
"Don't blow straw wrappers at each other, please. You're teenagers, not children."
He gets a wrapper to the face for that and Peter laughs outright, even if Chris is somewhat impressed with Derek's accuracy considering the projectile. There's no way to miss the other group of teenagers that make their way slowly into the ice cream parlor for their own dessert but, for the most part, the Pack focuses on themselves and their holiday plans. There are a few head nods in acknowledgement but beyond that, it's talking about TV shows Chris has never heard of and discussions about what kind of cookies to bake despite having nearly half a dozen flavors at home already.
"You know, the new moon of the new year tends to make a good time to celebrate new pack bonds." Quiet doesn't descend all at once, but it does settle warmly over them, eyes turning to their Alpha at his nonchalance and lowered voice. "We'd have to find a druid or other magic user to conduct the ritual but it would allow the Argents among us to be fully bonded to everyone here. If that is something they wouldn't mind as a holiday gift."
Ah. Chris shakes his head as he places what has felt off about Peter's entire sentence. The reason for the nonchalance, just in case they reject his offer, a mask to hide behind - they’ll have to work on that. Chris glances at the excitement in Allison's eyes and leans right in to press a kiss to Peter's lips before grinning, himself (if there's a startled yelp at the action from somewhere on the other side of the room, only Isaac is momentarily distracted as Allison rolls her eyes in a way that is disturbingly similar to the man next to him). It's the last step, isn't it? Of this thing they started. It won't be an ending, just a new beginning. Stability, solidarity, and the last thing they can do that isn't taking on the Bite and become wolves themselves.
"As if we'd say no, Hale."
"Well there's no way of telling with you people. One day you're chasing me through the woods, the next you're in my kitchen making french toast. One does wonder, Christopher. One does wonder."
"I would like to point out that having us chase you was your idea."
"Well, the pups have to learn to track without relying only on their enhanced senses somehow."
"You didn't seem to mind being caught, either."
"By you? Never."
The chorus of disgruntlement from around their two tables and Cora's mumbled "gross," has both men laughing, content. Chris gets why Talia didn't mind Laura wandering to his side that day so long ago now, sees why she wasn't concerned. They're here, together, and nothing can touch them. Oh, they'll take precautions because they know better than to pretend they're invincible, but right now, at this moment? They're good. He's good.
And when the new year rolls around and Chris feels the sucker punch of warmth as a witch releases his wrist, the affection and love from his Pack deep in his chest settling brighter than before, when he sees Peter grinning at him over the heads of all the pups and feels the wave of affection from his wolf, he's even better.
@petopher-events
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Born Blue
Chris Argent/Peter Hale Locker Room, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Scars, First Meetings, High School, Original Character Death(s), Death in Childbirth, Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs
For Petopher Event 2023 Day Six: Predator and Prey
Summary: Talia forces her anti-social little brother to attend High School and make friends. When he finds Chris in the locker room, he decides on a very interesting way of making a friend.
~~
When they came up for air, the guy asked, “I haven’t seen you before, are you new?”
Peter licked a stripe across the guy’s jaw and then answered, “Yeah, started today.”
His prey nodded and tilted his head back to give Peter better access. “Where’d you go before.”
“Homeschooled,” Peter answered between kisses to the guy’s throat. “My sister said I need to make friends and learn how to socialize.”
@petopher-events
Long Road to Home [6]
Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4] [5]
Prompt: Predator and prey
Here is your humble offering, obliterated and broken in the mouth of this abandoned church. He has come back to stop the world from turning itself inside out, and you love him, you do, so you won’t let him.
Start Here by Caitlyn Siehl
Cora agrees to assist with acclimating Allison to the idea that her father is in a Pack and it’s not the one she thought he’d be a part of. At all. It’s begrudging, which means the young girl’s jaw muscle twitches a little more than normal when asked if she’d be willing to do it, but she takes one look at Chris and gives a curt nod all the same. That he’s surprised must show on his face because the girl tentatively brushes by him on her way out of the house and allows her arm to wrap around him just a tiny bit before disappearing after her brother, who does no such thing but has allowed himself to be in the same room as two Argent family members for the evening, so Chris actually thinks that’s a major step forward.
Allison dislikes the scent-marking more than the suggestion she needs to spend time with a Hale Chris thinks from the purse of her lips, the redness that flushes her cheeks.
At least now she knows and Chris feels a bit of weight lift off his chest, though he wonders if it may have come to rest on his shoulders instead. Even if it did though, Peter has begun to poke and prod at him to assist where he can, takes on part of whatever weight he's carrying, dragging the hunter out for patrols around the Hale property and showing up at seemingly random times to take him out for coffee, lunch, or shopping (Peter never does anything at random but Chris can’t find the pattern, or at least he can’t find it until he looks at his own schedule and realizes that his little notations to himself on his calendar are being shared out, the other email address one he recognizes, and warmth spreads through his chest when he realizes that the Hales are sharing a calendar because they are healing and mending bonds and pushing boundaries that should have perhaps never been drawn, but it also worries him that he’s on it because he’s on uneven ground and he doesn’t know what that means, not really - pack, his mind supplies, and that little voice in the back still sounds like Peter but he begins to listen to it more and more as he requires strength to move forward). What this also means though is that the rest of the teenagers find out that the Hales are rebuilding their pack. Immediately, Chris is inundated with messages of fear, panic, and aggressiveness from those who are hearing something third or even fourth hand, and don’t understand the situation.
“No, Scott. He’s not going to go on a rampage. None of them are.”
“But Mr. Argent, they’re dangerous."
"No more than I am."
"But Derek bit Mrs. Argent. And Isaac! And Boyd, and Erica. How could anyone want this?” Strange question from the boy that seems to use his powers just fine to make first string on the lacrosse team and control his asthma, or to sneak into his daughter's room from time to time, though that stopped when she started dating Isaac. Chris swears he’s developing a twitch in his right eye.
“Derek asked them if they wanted the Bite. They said yes. Do we normally want to wait until they’re of age? Yes. But Erica was in a bad way, Isaac needed a different type of strength to feel safe, and Boyd said yes all on his own as well. They made a choice, Scott, one you didn’t get and I’m sorry about that. But you don’t get to decide for them just because of that.”
“He manipulated them, just like Pet--”
“Don’t, Scott. Not to me.”
They were at the grocery store, for God’s sake, and some of these bitten wolves really do not understand that they need to be careful. They don’t understand that as soon as they make themselves known as ‘other’ to a human then hunters will have the right to come in and take care of them to keep the populace ‘safe’ from them. Never mind that Scott would rather harm himself than harm a fly, the point still stands that they are not keeping their voices low enough, they don’t have cover stories, and they need to be trained in subterfuge.
Again, the Hale family could help them with that. Again, they will not take them up on that offer and so Chris takes a step back and requests that Allison be the liaison from then on if they need something from him or the Pack.
His Pack. God, they’ve come a long way, haven’t they?
Chris doesn’t feel giddy about it, it’s just a fact now that it is out in the open. Melissa and Noah look at him different when they catch sight of him but there are no butterflies of anxiety in his chest, sweaty palms, or turning stomach. There hasn’t been any of those since he went to visit the Hale family graves (except for when Peter glances at him from the corner of his eye, all charming smile and assessing look up and down like he’s starving for him, then the sweating starts and Chris flees the room, shuffling out on unsure feet and trying to find one of the kids to talk to as a shield, seemingly to his wolf's amusement). Instead of all that, he stands on his own two feet and brings Allison with him for Sunday dinners around an inviting and cloth covered table. They talk about school projects and hobbies, quiet evening conversation that leads into warm nights. While the weather is turning colder, the warmth comes from Pack and the den Peter has set up his apartment as with soft blankets and hot drinks, floor pillows and quiet music.
Considering the space they have, it’s only a matter of time before they start to adjust priorities again, this time with a few more hands. The first step had been to bring them together to common ground and now, it’s time to start actively and intentionally building bridges. As such, Chris begins teaching Cora how to use one of the spare guns he's been keeping around, her pressed into his side at the coffee table as he shows her the pieces of it and how to clean it first. She has promised that all her school work is done before they begin and Peter believes her every time, truthful or not (spoiled, entirely spoiled, and Chris remembers two scoops of sprinkles and smiles this time at the memory instead of flinching). Derek has taken to sitting across from them during these moments, not involved or asking questions, but still supervising the hunter’s time with his sister. It takes about two weeks before he’s bored though and starts to flip through books he finds on Peter’s shelves, which leads to new books on mechanical engineering appearing there for his perusal. Both are becoming more comfortable around him and Cora will even brush by him in small spaces where she may have an excuse, scent-marking him subtly, while Derek can look him in the eye without anger leaking out of every pore.
Peter is Peter and he’s everywhere, all the time, if Chris is in his home. He takes up all the air in any room he’s in and Chris can’t help but travel slowly in his orbit, letting him rub his hand through his hair or lean a cheek onto his shoulder. While he’s still not sure how or when to reach out, himself, he’s doing better with accepting these advances, the marks his Pack makes to ensure everyone else knows who he belongs with.
There are hiccups. Allison, who doesn’t trust Peter at all, shadows him around his own apartment when she’s there for dinner. Cora has even needled her until she appears after school sometimes as well, as if to show she’s not afraid of being there without him. When Peter leans into Chris, she is right there with her arms crossed and a frown on her face, even if the other man is trying not to flaunt the bonds they share, tries not to ‘poke the bear’ as his nephew mutters on occasion. His wolf has taken to including his daughter in the cooking to counteract the glaring, admitting quietly to giving her chopping duty in the hopes that having a sharp implement of destruction in her hand would help ease her discomfort. All Chris sees is an opportunity for Peter to get himself stabbed and it puts him more on edge than he’s willing to admit - the others notice and Derek is the one to put his hand on his shoulder that night, shaking his head (they are not who they once were even a month ago and Chris presses into Derek’s hand instead of freezing or shrugging it off, taking the comfort where he can and breathing deep in the process as he focuses inward on the comfort his wolf pack gives him). Scott has already determined that they are a threat, he doesn’t want that thought confirmed by Allison taking matters into her own hands and blood being spilled in their home - he’d never forgive himself if that happened, even if Peter may forgive him in the long run.
“She needs to feel in control. We all understand that desire. Let her have her weapons, Christopher. Walking into a wolf den full of those you see as the enemy, no matter how stylish and uptown that den is, is no small feat and she’s still willing to, is still doing so for you. The least we can do is give her the comfort of the idea that she can protect herself.”
“You’re not the enemy. I just wish I could make her see that.”
“She will, in time.” Peter wraps an arm around Cora and grins at the three before him, mischief in his eyes. “And if not, then she has her own wolves to attend to her. Quite a few, it seems, I hear little Scottie bit someone, which we really should ask her about. To think, the last two Argent’s this side of the Atlantic are part of werewolf packs and they aren’t even the same one! Some ancestor is rolling in their grave, I’m sure. Well, on both sides of the family, though I suppose we Hale’s have more of a history of accepting hunters or really anyone into our midst than your side accepting wolves. Now, who wants chicken marsala? I’ve tried a new recipe and this one promises to have a better balance of wine in it, thank God.”
What Chris finds at war in himself though, despite all the words of peace and acceptance, is that he has stopped feeling the need to protect himself from these wolves for a while now. These days, he only wants to protect them from the outside world, a world that has been nothing but ill fated for them. The Hale’s were known for their capacity to do great things, for their ability to think outside the box, come up against hunters and win, and then they were gone and their legacy was turned to ash. That is not what he wants for his Pack: soot and fading memories of grandeur. They are still a force to be reckoned with and he wants to bolster that. So he doesn’t think twice as he offers a hand to help Derek up from the floor as they chat about books, doesn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around Cora when she’s done poorly on a test she studied hard for and is disappointed, doesn’t consider how it looks to smile cheekily at Peter and make him laugh.
Allison sees it, she has to, and Chris decides to lead by example. He’s not a very good leader, this he knows. He is militaristic in his approach, sometimes direct and blunt when he could be softer and more congenial, and he is used to working with adults, not children. Still, he wants to be the best he can be for his daughter and so he walks backwards on his path so that he can continue to reach backwards towards her, knowing his Pack will watch where he’s going and steer him should he wander.
Peter at some point hands over keys to all of them.
It’s when Isaac begins to come around more and more, even without acting as Allison’s bodyguard, that Chris has to stop and think about what they’re doing again. The plan, the kernel of an idea that had popped up one night in a fit of lonely passion, has been in place and working for some time now. The Hale Pack is rebuilding, they have a new place to live, and Chris is a part of it this time. That was the extent of his initial thought process and they haven’t really sat down to adjust what they're doing as time has passed. But if Isaac is coming and going on his own, if the voices on his phone are really the two wayward wolves he thinks they are, then they're going to have to consider that they are missing a vital piece of a Pack.
They are missing an Alpha.
"Derek?"
"Yes, Mr. A?"
"I need your help with something."
They go out to meet with Scott one weekend after discussing at length how to approach the other wolves, requesting a Pack Treaty with a document to sign and all, the formal words ones that Derek knows from his training as second to Laura. All they ask is for their home back, that they can have the Hale property as their territory come what may, and Scott can have the rest of Beacon Hills if he wants it. They're willing to take on more if he doesn't, and they settle on the Preserve ending up as part of their territory as well, with the town and extended county as McCall's. They agree to sharing information on Big Bads that wander through, to assisting each other when asked, and dealing with problems their own way on their own territories (important to both of the Hale Pack sitting at the table because they need that freedom to do what they need to and Chris knows that hunters are coming, that they may already be here, and that it's going to get bloody in a way Scott won't appreciate). The last may have become a sticking point if they hadn't worded it exactly right, if Chris hadn't couched it in terms of him taking responsibility for those under his care. Everyone in town that is in the know is wary of the Hale's and he can take on this 'burden' for them if it gives them all relief, Scott thinking he doesn't have to worry since a hunter is on the case and their own Pack free of scrutiny because they're no longer under a microscope. Win-win in Chris' opinion and it's the first time he's seen a genuine smile on Derek's face when he returns home and shows his uncle and sister the work they've done.
Peter celebrates with dessert and hesitant praise, working on being better about not letting his tongue fly with unwarranted opinions in times of emotional peaks. Cora is succinct in her approval and nods along, then asks what they're doing with said land if they live in the apartment right now. Chris doesn't think they'll rebuild the main house, probably will end up at the lake house over a decade after it was refurbished to be a family home, and says as much. Peter looks shell-shocked at that and Chris thinks it's time, knows this next part is going to be worse but he plows on anyway.
Pulling out his phone and passing it around so everyone can see the email he's pulled up, Chris waits until it gets back to him to speak his mind.
"There's a rogue Alpha in Montana, according to a hunter family out that way. They have one that needs handling and we need one. So, which one of you wants to take on the weight Talia carried? It's your choice this time. No surprises."
Waiting for the perfect moment has been hard and Chris has been sitting on this information for some time, tracking wolves and ensuring accuracy of hunter accounts. He knows this is not a little thing but it's something only he can offer, something he can finally contribute. He feels a bit like a cat offering a dead bird to the people who have taken him in and sits tightly coiled in his seat, perfectly still. The murmured conversation around him is fast and furious, and though he can hear it, it doesn't register until Peter says his name that he's even in the running for this particular mantel.
"No. No, I." This was not what he wanted and he starts to grind a heel into the floor before Peter pets through the hair at the back of his head (Chris doesn't fight it, hasn't been fighting it, and melts a little even with the sparkle in Cora's eyes as she stifles a laugh). "Thank you but that's not where I see myself going. I'm better as I am. I can protect us better as a human."
Wolfsbane would be much harder to handle if he wasn't, after all.
Peter wants Cora to take the Alpha spark, citing Derek and his own misfortune with it. He also claims she's a good mix of her mother and father, which will help them in the long run. Cora claims her brother has come a long way from being an "egghead" and reminds her of their mother, says his full-shift would enable them to gain allies and respect easily. Derek… Derek doesn't participate much until after they move into the living room, tea or cocoa or beer pressed into hands.
"I think. I think Peter should be Alpha," Derek suggests while staring at his drink, peeling the label on the bottle.
"Why?" Peter breathes, shaking his head in horror. "I don't. Derek, I'm not. I would have followed Talia into Hell and back again. I only wanted the spark because I thought I was the only one left - I couldn't feel anything, not until it was too late. That's done, we're not in the place anymore. I'm not there anymore. I want to live my life, protect you unendingly, and help rebuild what we lost in our family's memory. But I don't need to do that as an Alpha."
"And that's why you should have it. You're the only one that remembers, Uncle Peter. Mom and dad… they would want you to have it, I think." Peter will never admit to crying but there's no other word for the choked noise he makes at his nephew calling him uncle for the first time since they've started this, for the wet eyes that he fights off. Chris takes his hand and holds on tight. "Now that we know everything, dad was preparing you for something. To fight, to lead, something. Maybe this was it? Maybe he didn't want his girls to have to take on this responsibility if something happened suddenly. He certainly never wanted me to have to deal with that responsibility, his little basketball star that was going to go off to college on scholarship. He would be proud of us if it came to it, God knows he was of Laura, but. We need a strong and maybe even vicious leader after everything that's happened. You and Chris can be that and since you're the wolf part of whatever this is, it should be you. Sorry, Mr. A."
"No offense taken, Derek. None at all."
Peter goes to argue but he's cut off and Chris tugs him closer to his side, shakes his head. He agrees with Derek and Peter can tell, pouting a bit where he's slumped over his tea.
"Cool. So Uncle Peter will get the spark and Isaac can stop hiding out in the hallway as if he's not allowed in when we're talking," Cora says with finality, raising her voice just slightly and waiting until an angelic head of hair with wide eyes unlocks the door and peeks in. Pointing at a floor pillow at her side, she glares. "You could have knocked at any point. This affects you, too. Get in here."
"You really are just a mini-James aren't you, dear niece," Peter bursts out, incredulous. Chris is the one laughing in the background, if anyone were to ask. Still, his wolf can't hide how pleased he is as Isaac does as he's told, getting up to retreat to the kitchen with a, "Sit, Lahey. I'll get you some chocolate."
They make travel plans. Derek and Cora are placed as their seconds in the event that something happens, in case something goes wrong and someone doesn't come home. They make contingency plans for everyone including their newest pup, they prepare for others in town to feel the connection they may not have known how to break before as it surges back to life. Allison is even tentatively brought into the loop beforehand, informed about the hunt and that Peter is going with Chris to deal with the threat. They don't give her all the specifics but she figures it out on her own because the day they go to head out at 4AM, her bag is next to Chris' in the back of the truck. Peter is surprised and Chris more so, but they accommodate the extra person and stop by the grocery store on their way out of town to grab her favorite snacks.
"I want in. If we're doing this, we're doing this together," she all but snarls at them at the first rest stop, fiddling with a loose arrowhead and refusing to make eye contact. "You're taking care of Isaac and. And I want in. All in."
The wind leaves her sails all at once and Peter reaches out before he really realizes what he's doing. He must be relying on instinct, Chris thinks; all he's seeing is a pup upset and he reacts accordingly, arms going around Allison and tucking her into his chest. She sniffles there, stiff for a long moment before laying her forehead on his shoulder.
"I still don't like you."
"No. Many people don't. I don't expect you of all people to. Still. Welcome to the family. It's unfortunate, isn't it?"
Two hunters and a wolf make quick work of the rogue Alpha and no one is the wiser. Allison being there has thrown the hunters in the area off, ensured they don't think Chris is acting on his own, and they willingly give over the problem to their care as Peter hangs back unseen in the shadows. They make the kill quick and as painless as they can with fangs buried in their wolf's shoulder. They bury the body properly after that, eyes closed and wrapped in white, make sure that they grab a name so they can give closure to any family. Peter has a few moments of control issues as the spark makes itself at home in him, but Chris and Allison stay with him through the surges, talk him down, even sedate him once just enough to allow them to get him in the car and back on the road. That they get insider knowledge on what it takes to become an Alpha, the disorienting increase in noise and other senses, the roaring only Peter can hear that comes from the spark not being familial, is just another thing they get through as a Pack.
Chris is Peter's first Beta this time around and that's expected, planned for.
Allison being his second isn't.
"Oh! Oh…"
"Strange, isn't it?" Chris asks, arm around his daughter's shoulders as she rubs a bit at her chest. "Those are Pack bonds."
"This isn't. Scott didn't… This is different."
"I think there's a lot you have to learn about werewolves, baby girl. I think there's a lot we both have to learn."
"But you'll be there?" Allison glances sideways at Peter who is hanging back, watching warily. "You both will, right?"
"Until the end."
Hugs are becoming more familiar to Chris and he finds his daughter in his arms far more often that before now that they're connected in a supernatural, magical way. Allison, in her eagerness to explore the new bonds she feels and ask all the questions she knew Scott and his pack probably didn't have the answers to, ends up halfway in Peter's lap at almost all times until they hit California again. It makes sense, he's her Alpha and his draw must be stronger than the rest, but it's also a little funny to watch the wide-eyed terror on his wolf when she crawls into his lap like a little kid. Almost immediately, when she can feel the acceptance and stability for herself, her hostility drops a significant degree (and there she is, not the matriarch that his father tried to make her but the little girl he and Vicki raised, the one that skipped alongside him when they walked through Paris, the one that still rolls her eyes at his bad jokes). She asks her questions, listens with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, and huddles under one or both of their arms whenever they're out of the truck.
She all but smacks into Isaac's chest when they roll back into town, tackling him effortlessly with a smile Chris hasn't seen for what feels like a long time. Isaac stares at her in startled wonder from where he's flat on his back and it's so affectionate Chris has to look away. She is, after all, still his little girl and her dating, werewolf or not, is something he's still trying to accept. He doesn't miss Allison's own wonder though as Peter pulls them up from one of the only grass patches in front of his home, hands them off to Derek and Cora with a chuckle of his own.
"I can feel all of you!"
Well. It's good to know that kind of surprise is a family trait, her words echoing Chris' desperate ones from the night he gave into what he assumed would be a fantasy but had to try to grasp anyway. When they get up to the apartment, when they realize two more wolves are peeking around the corner and helping with dinner, it's almost like nothing has changed at all.
@petopher-events
Through All the Seasons, You’ll Never Be Alone
oasis = a shelter serving as a place of safety or sanctuary.
After the Hale fire, Chris takes all the surviving kids in and makes sure Peter is never alone.
(Written for the May 2023 Petopher Event. Prompt: Comfort)
@petopher-events
Long Road to Home [5]
Chapters: [1] [2] [3] [4]
Prompt: Comfort
There is so much to forgive, but you do not know how to forget. When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you are the reason it has become so mangled.
Start Here by Caitlyn Siehl
Chris wakes up to pancakes, Cora at the stove flipping them as Derek uncomfortably shifts around the kitchen behind her, setting up plates and cups and drinks. Starting and stopping in their process, they must know he’s there but continue on their way, though it’s like they’ve forgotten how to be a family with the way they move around each other. They can ignore him up until he steps more fully around the corner, pulls out his favorite brand of tea from a cupboard, and they have to acknowledge he is more accustomed to their uncle’s space then they are. They stare at him and Chris wills himself to not let the fear he sees deep inside their eyes affect him but it’s hard, knowing that it’s the right reaction to have despite his last couple months building something else with Peter. He now has to build bridges with these two, for they are Hales and they need a pack.
His Pack, both of them, and he breathes deep (breathing at all is still a new feeling).
When Peter stumbles out of his bedroom and practically face-plants into a coffee cup though, Derek’s lips twitch and Cora full out grins, even if it does have too many teeth (he’s just like this all the other mornings they’ve had together and Chris wonders if he always has been, a good memory that they can all share now and maybe make something more out of). Cora is the one that folds into her uncle, having been so far away for so long that she doesn’t have the same type of hold ups that the others her age or her brother would have. Looping an arm around Peter’s waist and trading his cup for the spatula so that he can do what he wills at the counter, she stays there for a second and just holds herself still, seemingly enjoying the novelty of it. She is also the first one who speaks something more than a grunt, eyes rolling so far into the back of her head at her brother that it has to be a learned reaction in her childhood from Peter, himself, from how many times Chris has seen the same expression on the older Hale’s face.
“What are you two doing here? I feel… different now.”
They all do he’s sure, and Peter shoos them out of his kitchen to the table until such a time that his caffeine addiction has kicked in (they should talk about it, they need to talk about it, but even Chris doesn’t want to talk about it if it means he might lose the man he stands next to, plating up eggs and bacon on top of anything else they can make to postpone this).
Plying Peter with more coffee than normal is the only way they get through the whole situation, his wolf antsy and the bitter beans just enough to focus him. Chris admits some things about himself to these two children that he wishes he didn’t have to but knows is the only way forward (and Derek is still a child, he can’t be anything other than that in this old/new dynamic they have now, and Chris hopes the young man can find something resembling stability in these connections, a stability that he cannot get from his old bonds, the ones that still linger, tattered, that burn at times according to Peter). They learn about how Chris approached Peter, about Peter’s somewhat acceptance of the idea, and what the ritual Derek stumbled into previously actually did - their horror at the missing memories is icing on a very fucked up cake. Peter reaffirms for them that Talia was good and proud and strong in ways they have to remember, that she would be proud of them, same as they learn that she was manipulated and quick to anger sometimes, a regular contributor to the curse jar their own father had to set-up, and just as much of a talker as Peter still can be on good days. They learn she couldn’t cook, that her jokes were atrocious, and that Peter misses his big sister with everything he has.
They learn that there is regret deep within their uncle and no need for forgiveness, if they never want to give it to him. Peter knows what he did to Laura, knows what he’s done to them, and he’ll not ask for anything they cannot or will not give.
Neither of the younger Hales say anything either way and Chris thinks it’s a start.
Catching up on all the memories, the ones they have their side of and the ones only Peter has, takes time. They cover the Nemeton, the twins, and the ‘old guard’ of wolves in the house that wormed into their minds and took things from them that they can’t replace. Chris leaves with a promise to return somewhere in the middle so that he can pick Allison up from the hospital and take her home (not his home though because this place is home now, a den of wolves and their shadow, their hunter, a place warm and welcoming and made for patching up wounds together, but Allison isn’t ready, won’t be ready for that for some time, so Chris instead takes her back to an empty house and tries to make it echo less and not seem too put out that he’s missing something that is taking place somewhere else). By the time he gets back a few days later, one of the guest rooms is covered in trinkets from South America and no longer for guests.
Cora is waiting for him in the living room, Derek and Peter elsewhere. That should worry Chris, if it turns out they’re together, but he’d seen the way the younger man had looked at his uncle when he realized that he could have the man from his memories back. Derek jumps into things with both feet, many times without looking from what Chris has observed, and this appears no different. Tentative, terrified, but no different.
Unlike Cora who doesn’t hesitate, just goes for his jugular. Almost literally, by her stance, and Chris is thankful that she’s holding herself back.
“What do you get from this? Are we just a little project for you to feel better about what Kate did to my brother? Maybe a test to see what a hunter can find out about pack bonds so you can exploit them?”
“No. I’m not - I may have intended to try and make up for what my family has done when I first approached your uncle, but now. Now…” Different times, same issue. Chris is just not a talker, certainly not about himself, and Cora is a lot harder to talk to than Peter. He doesn’t have words for this, never has, and he struggles as he hands over a bag of groceries and tries not to think about dinner instead, tries not to give himself the distraction. She deserves that much. “I don't want to use these connections for insider information about the pack, at least not as a hunter would. I’ve told you how I saw the Hale’s around Beacon Hills and wished I was a part of your family more than my own. I focused on you because your mother seemed stronger than my father, and I thought if it came down to it, she’d be safer to live with, nicer to live with. I won’t go into how I was raised but it was nothing like you and Derek, more along the lines of Maggie raising Peter. Much more… physical and less verbal, though. It was a flight of fancy, a wish that I knew would never be reality. And then I moved here after a lifetime of bad choices, and there was Kate and Peter was the Alpha and everything felt like it imploded. I'm trying to pick up the pieces now. You’re right in that I do get something from this, but I’m not looking to take anything from you, Cora. Just gain. Gain something real, something solid.”
“How can he trust you?” Good question and one that he’s sure the others are mulling over as well (late at night he asks himself the same question too, how can Peter trust him, how can he allow hands covered in his family’s blood to reach out for him, how can he accept gun powder coated fingers against his pulse, accept Chris after all he’s failed to do to protect him). Cora and her brother have been tracking their budding relationship since they first noticed it, and while he may not know what conclusions they’ve come to, they’re certainly taking actions that speak of private conversations and agreed conclusions based on context clues. “How can we ever trust an Argent?”
He doesn’t miss the use of ‘we’ but tries not to let himself hope (hope is dangerous and he has so little in him that can respond to it anymore that it feels like pain).
“I don’t know. But I think he does and I hope that I can prove I’m more than just my last name to you and your brother. I’m not like my father or sister. I don’t want to be. It’s why I wanted to be a part of another family growing up and it’s the same reason I’m doing this now. I'll tell you the same thing I told Peter: I don’t want to be like that, Cora, and I’m afraid I’m just a little too close for anyone’s comfort right now. You’ve heard about what I’ve done since I moved to Beacon Hills. I don’t want to hide that from you, but I don’t want it to be what you know me for.”
“And this has nothing to do with what the others call my uncle’s insanity?”
“No. Not anymore.”
She isn’t entirely convinced and Chris doesn’t blame her, as he isn’t entirely convinced either that his motives are coming from the right place. His family is the reason this pack is like this and he can’t forget that, shouldn’t forget that. There is a part of him that wants Peter stable, yes, but it’s not because he’s afraid of what the wolf will do if he isn’t. It’s more a need to make sure the Pack is well taken care of (Chris has never been allowed to care about others, not Katie, not even really Allison, he was brought up to listen and obey and not ask questions, not to offer a helping hand or allow himself to be leaned on - any hunter that had to lean on another was as good as dead Gerard had said, they couldn’t rely on others for their survival, they had to accept that sometimes ‘trimming the fat’ was necessary for winning the war, and Chris wonders if his father hated everyone, not just werewolves, with that kind of rhetoric). Needing to make sure Peter is alright comes with the territory and if he maybe spends a bit too long watching the wolf make his way around the apartment some days, entranced while he talks, if he spends just a little too long with his fingers wrapped around Peter’s wrist just to feel his pulse and remind himself that he is alive, that they are here and present and finding a way to be whole again, then that’s his cross to bear and not the Pack’s.
Derek peeks in a few hours later with more groceries and a duffel bag of clothes, which Cora takes immediately and deposits in the other guest bedroom. Chris steps in to assist with where things go in the kitchen, pointing out systems of organization and tossing ingredients at the other two from bags across the way, finishing in record time - normally, he and Peter get distracted when doing more menial tasks, end up chatting while the ice cream is melting on the counter next to them, laughing as the basil wilts in the sun from the window.
Dinner is on said stove by the time Peter returns, done up in a suit that makes Chris’ mouth go dry before he shakes it off and asks where he’s been (not the time, not the time, most definitely not the time to admire the way the jacket stretches across thick shoulders and tailored pants fit strong thighs and oh God, this was not how this was supposed to go, this was not part of the plan). Turns out it was an interview at a local community college for an adjunct instructor and Peter shrugs one shoulder, grin just barely there at the corner of his lips and eyes alight with wary joy, as if this might be taken away from him at any second. It’s something to see, Peter at home and mostly at ease, his family surrounding him, and the world shifts just a bit on its axis as he laughs at something Cora says offhandedly, Derek even snorting in the background.
Chris finds it hard to breathe and decides he can’t stay for dinner. Allison will miss him if he’s gone for too long from the house, after all, and Peter’s gaze is calculating as he flees. Driving is easy, dinner is quiet, and then his daughter is folding her hands over the table like a business woman and staring him down.
“Where have you been, Dad?”
“I've been helping Peter Hale with a few things.” No lies, just not full truths either. Argents are good at this half-speak and he’s better at it than most. “Did you want cherry or --”
“Don’t.” A hand is held up and hunters are matriarchal, so Chris goes silent at the command from the last female Argent in his life, biting into his tongue almost hard enough to bleed. “Peter Hale? Really? He bit Scott, nearly drove Lydia to the same type of madness he’s a part of, and only does things for himself! How can you be sure you’re not playing into his hand?”
“Allison…”
“No! I haven’t said anything about him following after you like a shadow. But I’m saying something now because you're worrying me, being out of the house so often. We made a deal. We protect those that cannot protect themselves. He’s creepy, popping up where he’s not wanted. He does things with no thought to the consequences. How is helping him with anything protecting anyone?”
“Peter has been more stable ever since-”
“Stable? You call that stable? What he did to Lydia-”
“Allison!” He hates to raise his voice but she won’t allow him a word in edgewise and while he may have been taught to submit, he is still her father. Allison jumps a bit, the tone unexpected, and Chris shakes his head, links his fingers together in front of him (tries not to wish there was another set between his own, strong and only sometimes tipped with claws). “What he did to Lydia is something tragic and she deserves closure for it. But I’m not Lydia. And I've been out of the house just as often as you have. And maybe we should move, if we can't stand to be here, but that's a conversation for another time. I know you don’t understand right now, but he’s the one that made sure you got to the hospital in time. He’s the one that pointed out that chess is Stiles’ game and that the Nogitsune plays Go. He has access to what is left of the Hale library, where we found out more about what was happening when you were blacking out, and how what Jennifer was doing with all those bodies may have affected the other issues.”
“As much as you may hate it, as much as the others in Scott’s group may hate it, Peter is just as sane as the rest of us these days. He hasn’t been in the way, he’s been open with his assistance and knowledge, and he hasn’t been my shadow Allison. We work together, outside of what you and your friends do.”
"You're right. I don't understand. He's not. Dad, he can't…"
"He is allowed to live his life. Unless you plan on putting him down yourself? And at that point, we'll have to discuss exactly how Derek, Cora, and I will step in to stop you."
"You're working with Derek!? He killed mom!"
"No, Allison. Your mother made a choice. Don't take away her agency in that. She was a strong, capable woman and she made a choice."
"One she wouldn't have had to make if that, that monster hadn't bit her."
Chris flinches back, shaking his head a bit to clear the cotton that seems to have gathered in his ears at his daughter's outburst. They stare at each other, Allison's hand over her own mouth as if she's said too much. Face crumpled in pain, he does understand that she is looking for someone to blame. He, on the other hand, knows who to blame (their parents, the code, anything that made Victoria believe it wasn't alright to stay with her family if she shifted) and is straight backed, staring ahead, keeping her in his peripheral vision but not looking directly at her.
"He was protecting Scott. Your mother was trying to kill a child for daring to care for you, and I wasn't much better. I'm trying to be better though and yes, that means working with Derek to understand." Hands flat on the table, Chris pushes himself to standing, voice even as he packs everything that matters away in his chest (harder to do these days when he's allowed himself to feel, to breathe, with Peter but still a skill he uses that allows him a reprieve from the onslaught of denial that he wants to throw across the table to shake understanding into Allison's head). "Derek isn't a monster. He was a new Alpha trying to do the right thing. He was protecting someone else, someone innocent. If you want to believe werewolves are monsters because they have the ability to protect themselves with teeth and claws, then we disagree on a very fundamental level, sweetheart. I'm still learning but I've come to this understanding - your mother could have lived as a werewolf, stayed with us despite it, and chose not to. I didn't argue with her decision, as much as I thought we could make it through, because at the end of the day it was her decision. I don't blame Derek, and I hope he doesn't blame himself. If you condemn that boy for biting your mother, then you also condemn Scott to dying by her hand. I can't fathom that, Allison. I don't want to live in a world where your mother succeeded."
"Daddy, I-"
"It's okay. I'm okay, but there are things we're going to have to work out. I thought allowing you to stay with your friends would help you adjust, allow you to see the supernatural through a different lens than I was raised to." (Wrong, maybe worse than just wrong, and how many bad decisions does he have to make until his daughter is completely lost to him?) "I can see that isn't the case. I want to help you learn and come to terms with everything that has happened, Allie. So. I'm going to go to my office and start creating a plan for us. I haven't been around, I get that, but I'm in a better place now than I was so I can carry what you can't. Alright?"
She nods, head ducked and eyes on the wood grain instead of him. That will have to be alright for now. That is something they can work on. Reaching across the table, Chris loops his fingers around Allison's wrist, giving a gentle squeeze.
"You rest. You're still healing. I love you. I won't let us fall apart just because we disagree on this. Okay?"
"Okay."
Steps, slow and measured, take him to his desk and for most the night and into the next day, there he stays. Allison hovers sometimes in the doorway watching him but not approaching, then Scott peeks around the corner, and Chris is sure they'll say something before both are gone. The house is quiet for hours after that, and he secludes himself away, turns off his phone, starts to pick up pieces of a life he had unintentionally left behind as he checks emails and arranges meetings. He's been neglecting a few things and this will give him time to straighten that out.
Then the shadow that falls across his work is too long, too solid, to be his daughter and Peter's hand is wrapping around his own.
"Come with me?"
Chris almost resists, having worked himself into a hole over the course of the night, but he knows his wolf. Peter is as stubborn as he is and so he sighs, gathers up his jacket and shoes, and heads out on the other's heels. It’s the first time he’s ridden in Peter’s Miata and it’s a smooth ride but he can’t enjoy it like he would want to as he watches suburban homes turn into cabins, turn into long stretches of conifers. The dirt road is one he’s taken himself a time or two and then they’re pulling up in front of a burnt out home and Peter is climbing out of the car, waiting for him by the broken steps up to the house. His own footsteps are slow to follow, eyes downcast as he catalogs the noises around the house, trying to see if they’re alone (force of habit, one that he can suppress from time to time but it’s instinct at this point, considering his age, and Chris wants to sigh all over again at the idea that he’ll never fully be rid of all the things he wants to rip out of himself to start over).
Peter takes his wrist and drags him around the back, which is not where Chris thought they were going. Another couple yards and they’re in a garden, or what may have used to be a garden, though it seems someone is taking care of the creeping vines slowly but surely now that he’s taking a closer look. There are sections cordoned off here and there though, large stones that peek out from the wildflowers, and oh.
Those are gravestones.
“They didn’t have any until last month,” Peter murmurs as he flexes his fingers against Chris’ pulse. “I’ve been making sure they’re appropriately set, now that I have the time. Time you gave me, I would like to point out. Time you’ve taken no thanks for.”
“I don’t need-”
“Shh. I’m the one talking now.” The thumb brushing by his lips brings Chris up short and he goes quiet, already weighed down by his own family issues on his shoulders and unwilling to put up much of a fight considering where they’re standing. He certainly doesn’t need any thanks for doing what is right, for reestablishing something his family tried to destroy. “You really don’t want any thanks, do you? Well, that’s unfortunate. I have plenty of ways to say thank you, most of which I imagine you’d enjoy.”
“Peter…”
“Ah, ah. What did I say about me talking? You can be annoyed with me later.” Over the last few days, Peter has been more and more sharp with him, and Chris thinks they may be coming to a crossroads where the old and new have melded enough that he’s no longer needed as a catalyst. It pains him to think their time is coming to an end (but he honestly was waiting for it, waiting for this to be nothing but penance and absolution and nothing like family, pack, and desire - oh, how he was so sure that last one would go away, disappear overnight, only to find it brewing in the pit of his stomach now for weeks). “Right now, I think it’s about time we did something about your incessant need to be the pillar of support through this entire fucked up ‘road to redemption’ as my niece so succinctly called it when you all but ran out of the house the other day when we could have offered you the same. While that fits with your Papa Argent persona, not allowing me to do the same is rather one-sided, Christopher. And I won’t allow our Pack to suffer because you refuse to take what you need from us and only give what we need from you.”
“Talia and James would never have allowed it and since they’re not here,” at this, Peter gestures to one of the larger gravestones and then back between the two of them, “I suppose I have to be the one to get you to listen to reason and accept that you don’t have to do whatever it is you think you’re doing at home alone.”
Chris remains frozen as the other man stops, mostly because Peter has decided that to finish his little statement, he’s going to tug him right into his chest and crush him there, all the while nuzzling into his neck like he belongs. As a hunter, the move should have caused his fight response to unsheathe the knife at his belt and bury it into the soft belly of the wolf in front of him. As an Argent, the same response would suffice but should come with a lot more disgust, a little more repression of certain feelings, like the denial of the warmth in his chest. As Chris -- just Chris, just himself, just the man trying to make better choices than yesterday and find people he can rely on -- he buries his head into the offered shoulder and shakes as he’s lowered to the grass underfoot. This is the first time they’ve touched more than setting shoulders together, tightening fingers around each other’s, and it’s overwhelming in a way Chris didn’t expect.
(Has he ever been held like this? Has he ever been gently taken care of? Isn’t this what he wanted? Why does it feel like agony? Why does it feel like relief?)
“She would have loved you,” Peter whispers, petting over his hair as he holds him tight. “Talia would have dragged you home like a lost pup if she had known what was happening. She would have demanded so much from you, but only because she wouldn’t ever ask for anything she wouldn’t be able to give back twofold. James would have been right there, ready to open the doors, ready to ply you with food until you stopped counting all the exits and stopped waiting for the other shoe to drop. Laura would have asked all sorts of inappropriate questions and you’d find her where she wasn’t supposed to be, in your room or worse, right behind you when you’ve said something embarrassing. Elizabeth would have made sure you felt at home, Marcus would have tried to impress you. Derek and Cora were still so young, still needed people to look up to. I cannot fathom a home that I have been a part of that would not have welcomed you into it, Christopher. We need each other, we cannot do this alone. Stop fighting, let it go, come home. This is what Pack is for, sweetheart.”
Tears are running down his cheeks and Chris doesn’t know when he started, but he finds it hard to stop as he shudders out broken sobs.
He mourns his family in that graveyard, the ones that took the wrong path that he had no hope of saving, the mother he should have held closer while she was there, who he should have emulated more and forgotten less. He mourns the wife that gave everything she had and it still wasn’t enough for them, for the daughter who lost something over the last few months and still can’t find her way back. He mourns the Hale family that still is so much stronger than he feels he’ll ever be, the ones that should be there but are not, and the ones that are left who will never be the same. He mourns for himself, the lost boy that wanted to make his father proud, who wanted his sister to be just like him, who never got the chance to really figure out what he wanted to be and so wished to be someone different.
Peter sits with him for who knows how long, until the trails on his cheeks dry and then beyond that until his breathing evens out, and only then does he allow him to sit up and wipe at his face. Not that he doesn’t help, thumb brushing over stubbled cheekbones and eyes searching. By the time Chris is upright and cleaned up, his wolf is standing and holding out his hand.
They go from grave to grave and Peter introduces him to each of them in turn, fingers tangled in Chris’ own as they walk. He tells him stories that no hunters would ever have heard, he interjects with his own commentary, and when they come back around to the entrance of the garden, he walks them right out and back into the world without hesitation.
“Allison called, you know. Well, she had Stiles call Derek and then talked to him. Said someone had to come get you, that something was wrong, and Derek said he’d send me your way. I don’t think she particularly likes the idea that I’m the one that gets a call when you need something. I suppose none of them would.” Humming, Peter shakes his head and pulls them to a stop beside his car, staring up at Chris with bright, laughing eyes that are softer around the edges in a way he’s only seen around his family. “I’m still the Big Bad Wolf to your daughter, Christopher. She thinks I’m going to eat you up and yet, she still reached out. For you.”
“She’s… a good kid.”
“One of the best, yes. And I don’t say that lightly, mind you. I do have some standards.”
“I know. So are you?”
“Am I, what?”
“Going to eat me.” The side eye that he gets from his wolf is toe curling and Chris blinks into the stare, trying to decipher if Peter is doing it on purpose or if it’s just how he is now, naturally. “I’m not exactly Little Red.”
“No. You’re much more than that and yet, still just as lost.” Peter brushes a kiss to his cheek with the quiet words, a sly smirk crossing his lips as he pulls away before waving Chris towards the passenger side door when he appears in too much shock to get a move on himself. “Get in, we’re picking up dinner at that Italian place you like and going back to your place. Derek and Cora are going to meet us there and Allison has agreed to stay long enough to chat, so long as she’s allowed to keep Isaac with her. We of course agreed - Isaac is a good puppy, after all, and we’re quite fond of him, or at least Derek is. That’s quite good enough for me.”
It doesn’t go unnoticed that Peter has not answered the question. Chris thinks he doesn’t have to though, not when his hand unerringly finds his throughout dinner, not when he presses up against him from behind when he’s trying to do the dishes, and certainly not when he rubs his nose into his shoulder when wrapping him in his arms to say goodnight. No, Peter doesn’t have to answer the question because Chris doesn’t think he could handle a truthful answer to it, not if he’s already consuming him whole.
@petopher-events
Fun fact: almost this entire story was written on my phone while waiting at various airports and planes over the last few days. When I finally post it to AO3, I swear I'll edit it because I'm pretty sure grammar is not holding up as it should in many, many places.
@petopher-events prompt - predator/prey
Long Road to Home [3]
Chapters: [1] [2]
Prompt: Time
Start by wiping the blood off of his chin and pretending to understand. Repeat to yourself “I won’t leave you, I won’t leave you” until you fall asleep and dream of the place where nothing is red. When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it. Oh, when you used to sing it to sleep.
Start Here by Caitlyn Siehl
Missing pieces from Peter’s life come together in a kaleidoscope of sense memories. Chris is there every step of the way, a washcloth pressed to the wolf’s nose that smells of mint, lilac, and a hint of wolfsbane to bring him back to the present when needed. He almost always comes back by himself though, quieter than the last time, clinging to reality but much more lucid that Chris remembers his eyes being back when he was an Alpha. Chris asks in those moments of clarity if Peter wants him to put some walls back up for him, he’s sure they could do it, but he receives a strong no and even a thank you, Peter determined to not lose these new pieces of himself so soon after getting them back.
Still, it must unsettle the wolf to be back in that head space of being unable to control himself. Chris stays close to help ward off some of the worst of it, catching Peter when he staggers into the kitchen for water or wrapping a blanket around him tight when it seems like he needs someone to hold him (Chris could do that he realizes, he could reach out and tug Peter to his chest and hold him close, but he doesn’t know if the wolf would accept that kind of offer and he isn’t really sure that he’s ready to give that kind of assistance, ready to pay that price even though he’s been reaching for it every day since he walked into the Preserve and found Peter wandering, even if he knows it would help, even if he remembers the way the Hale Pack closed ranks physically when moving together through the world, arms around shoulders and waists, hanging off of one another - there’s a voice in the back of his head that sounds just like Peter snarling the word ‘coward’ at him, but he ignores it harder than he normally does because that voice used to sound like Victoria and he doesn’t know what to think about the change).
Derek glares from the sidelines, rubbing at his chest like it hurts. He startles sometimes at the noises or words floating around them, stops to stare at his uncle with emotions crossing his face that Chris can’t categorize at the moment, and then grumbles that Peter is dangerous.
Chris always counters that the wolf has yet to even flash his eyes through this whole process.
“I won’t leave him.”
“Of course you won’t. He’s easier to kill like this.”
“Is that why you’re still here, to make sure I don’t kill your uncle? Or are you waiting to do it yourself now that he’s down for the count?”
He doesn’t get an answer but then, he doesn’t expect to.
Allison doesn’t really notice he’s gone either (he’s checked in with her after being out of the house for two days, and his baby girl is grappling with something herself and maybe if he can figure this out, she’ll have something to come home to again, but for now they’re too different, too alike, and she just doesn’t notice he’s not even there and it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s anything but fine). It’s not like it matters though because even the younger Hale that refused to leave their side since he stomped into the end of the ritual disappears soon after his uncle begins to twitch and mumble things of Talia, of Laura, of Derek, himself in his delirium.
That slowly comes to a stop and after those first two days, Peter is awake and coherent and quiet as a Church mouse. That is the unsettling bit, the way the wolf seems to be looking at the world around him like he’s seeing it for the first time, judging it for the first time, and maybe he is. There’s something guarded in his expression now and it’s a long way from open, bright and laughing, but it’s not the stone wall Chris is used to either. Improvement.
“I remember everything, I think. I’m ready to talk about it. If you have the time?”
“For this?” (for the possibility of family and home and connection, for Pack, for Peter?) “Always.”
Peter ensures that they start off on the right foot, clearly stating that nothing before he was eighteen seems to be amiss or new. He doesn’t think that there was anything there that was worthy of being taken from him, as it is all childhood fantasies and high school hormones and the steady background noise of basketball. Hesitantly, Peter does admit that he was happy with his sister’s family, confirming what Chris has known all along. He details how he remembers running into Chris that first time, how he had picked Derek up in that parking lot because he had been unsure about the smell of blood and wolfsbane,. He remembers how James had shook his head, told him that they were being followed by a hunter and not to worry about it because he knew this one, and this one wouldn’t hurt them. (Talia’s husband is named James and Chris about loses his mind when Peter confirms he was a bitten wolf, brought into the family by his father when he was only two and James was fifteen - Chris already knows the other’s age though because he’d been to the funeral and given his condolences to the Fitzwilliam matriarch at the time, and God their whole way of doing things really was a dumpster fire if a boy could walk into a Pack without issue but be considered dead to his family for the exact same thing.)
What comes first in the timeline of events is a woman who meets Peter a month or so before his eighteenth birthday, who he asks out after that in the hopes of keeping her attention for himself. Peter gets a little wistful when he talks about her, describing dark hair and wild eyes that he felt he could let himself loose around. She was a coyote, the Desert Wolf, and he thought she’d understand his need for Pack and home. Apparently, the girls and boys he dated before required his full attention and Peter just wasn’t able to give them that, family more his concern. For awhile, he thought they really had something despite the age difference (and Chris grinds his teeth at the similarities between this man and his nephew, despite Peter at least being legal while Derek was not, but there’s something else there that isn’t just disgust at the thought of imbalances of power and experience, a black pit in his stomach that can’t believe this Desert Wolf has put her paws on his Pack, on his wolf, and it’s that last thought in particular that he decides he doesn’t want to touch right now and stores away for later).
Then comes Corinne almost skipping town, a lake house redesigned to be a family home, and the healthy wailing of a pair of twins.
“Jackson Kit and Malia Candice. I chose their first names, she chose their middle ones. Jackson is older by four minutes.” Peter speaks their names reverently, his eyes sad and lost as he looks away. Chris folds his hand over the other’s wrist, a hand to hold the same but only connection he’s been willing to give throughout their days together, and is surprised when Peter is the one to link their fingers, the one to lean in for more support. “My family tree had twins all over our second and third cousin branches, but I don’t know what happened to mine. Wouldn't it be funny if one was the Jackson we know, the prideful little boy who ran away to London? No points for guessing where he got that from. It was clearly from Talia. But Maggie thought it was a disgrace to have someone my age with children in the family. Her and Natalie convinced Talia to take my memories and put them up for adoption, I’d assume. I remember arguing for them. We had the nursery and we had the Pack. Laura was old enough to help out, so was Derek. Cora could have grown up at their sides, a constant companion. I’d been helping out with them since I was younger, they could help me, right? Talia was going to allow it, she wanted nieces and nephews just as badly as I wanted them, but then one day… she stopped wanting it. And then they were gone and I was recovering.”
“Recovering? From what?”
“The attack.”
Rogue Omega attack according to Talia, their mother, this Natalie woman, a first cousin named Marcus that had come to live in the lake house, and no one else in the family. Marcus was already planning on moving (which is why the lake house was under renovation, not because it was going to house Peter and his two children, and Chris has to admit that the cover story and placing another person into the equation to take the heat off of the loss of memories made sense in the same way that his father’s tirades against wolves made sense at one point in his life, and he can’t shake the feeling that he’d like to wring all their necks for what they’ve done to his wolf). What really happens though is that Corinne finds herself weakened after birth, because that’s how it works with were-coyotes apparently, and attacks to try and take her strength back. Peter protects his family, like he always has, like he always will, and down he goes while that woman slinks into the night to lick her wounds.
Two people join the Pack after that, one to protect and the other to advise. Marcus stays. Natalie stays. Maggie comes by the house more, ‘concerned’ for her son.
Talia forgets there were children to begin with, or at least Peter thinks she does. It’s hard to tell when he was also unaware at the time but he can’t shake the feeling she doesn’t remember, herself, when he's going through the memories. Chris finds it odd that an Alpha would lock away their own memories, especially when Talia was the one that made the decision to adopt them out for Peter.
“I don’t think she made the decision though. Remember how I said Talia helped me paint the nursery? That she bought them those little booties with moons on them? We wanted the twins. But my mother didn’t, not if I was eighteen and single. She hardly trusted me to handle myself, there was no way she was going to allow me to raise any more Hales, especially with my involvement with Talia’s kids. Maggie never intended to have two children, told me she did the best she could moving on from that mistake when I was twelve and dad had been gone for a while, and was furious that Talia chose me over the perfect little life she’d imagined for her. Talia adopted me when I was five, you know, took me out of their house because dad was sick and couldn’t care for me, and Maggie wasn’t exactly doing a great job on her own. They signed for the change in guardianship when Talia was nineteen. I cannot deny my mother taught me things though, mostly through action and consequence. There were always consequences with my mother for every perceived slight, and she could play the long game. I guess I finally messed up enough for Maggie to feel like she had to step in, so she sent in the calvary. She could allow me being a glorified babysitter for Talia’s kids so long as I kept out of the way and didn’t tarnish the family legacy. As soon as I did that, it was time to take action.”
Some of the things Peter details about his mother for background, to make Chris understand, sound very much like what he’s overheard Peter say to Derek (of course they are, Peter did not become Peter in a vacuum and Chris wants to grind the woman to pulp because the only people who would notice are dead and gone, the only people that would have understood are buried by the blackened skeleton of their family home, and now he carries this knowledge on his shoulders and he wills himself to keep moving, to keep going forward to untangle this mess, instead of trying to figure out how to bring someone back to life just so he can shoot them dead again). It’s all good to know but it breaks his heart a little the way Peter talks about how he always intended to have children eventually, how he’d already mapped out a plan on how to go to college part-time and raise the twins on his own. Corinne could have left and they wouldn’t have followed after her. Peter may have loved her but honestly, by then, he just wanted to be left to his own devices.
Then there’s the idea that Talia Hale, Alpha of the strongest pack Chris has ever come across, may have been having her memories toyed with. What a disturbing thought but it made sense, in some twisted way. He can remember getting updates from his sister while in France, and she always included the Hales in her time with him because they were her ‘white whale,’ so to speak. Talia had become more erratic before the fire, setting up patrols only to have them disappear in a few days' time. She became more passive about her own territory, despite her advice to other packs still being decidedly proactive, encouraging solutions that relied on technology and allowing room for old rites like revenge and retribution because they were still werewolves and some traditions were there to protect them (Peter has mentioned before that he butted heads with Talia over what to do about hunters in Beacon Hills and now Chris can see that she listened when she could, but this will have a ripple effect across all their twisted paths and eventually, when they are settled and stable, they’ll need to address how this might have affected the children, how Derek and Cora are going to handle this). She was building a network, a strong coalition that could stand up to hunters en masse, a core of strength that all supernatural creatures could build from. No wonder his family wanted her dead, though it worries Chris that her own mother also seemed to want that to stop.
At the end of the day though, both probably should be more worried that none of the teenagers that have dogged their steps over the last few months make an appearance during this whole shebang they have going on. One or two seem to be ghosting after them from time to time but they never approach, are never seen. Chris talks them both down from the flare of panic that realization inspires and points out that neither of them are in a state to be much help right now anyways. They need to finish what they started before they can take on anything else invading their territory (and it is theirs, if Chris has anything to say about it, because the Hales have been here since the town was founded and he wants to make sure they always will be a part of Beacon Hills as a giant FU to his own family for taking away their chance to recover from their own damn drama - that getting the chance to redeem himself starts to matter less and less the more time he spends learning about the family he’s always wished to have, always aspired to be like, is not an unnoticed side effect but Chris doesn’t know what to make of it either, so it gets shoved in a box and put away for a later date).
It takes three more days to figure out what else is new in Peter’s memories. It feels like years have passed but when they look back, it really has only been a week.
Natalie Dumont is a constant in Peter’s life after the attack, an overly long shadow on his path. She often argues with him over his suggestions on how to protect them all, mocking his ‘paranoia’ alongside his own mother, and Peter seems to forget why he was angry at her and Maggie by the end of it. This leaves a lot of rage unattended and unsatisfied in the young wolf, despite starting college and being able to remove himself from the situation (Stanford, Peter had gone to Stanford, and Chris wonders just how the Argent family missed that one because that is no small feat and Peter deserves recognition for the threat he was before he ever took up fighting, he deserves to feel pride for the fear that should have inspired in hunters when they learned they were going up against not only werewolves with super strength and speed on their side, but also brains). It takes a hot second, but they also find out Natalie Dumon is a mixture of something and something, Chris recognizing the last name and tracking it down in the Argent Bestiary to be a chimera. Well, that at least explains how she was able to manipulate Talia’s memories when Peter doesn’t remember anything about her being a wolf. She's not, God knows what she actually was, but she was not a wolf.
She continues practicing on Peter so that things work smoothly on Talia and the erratic nature of both of them becomes crystal clear. Peter can remember the times he was approached to have his memories removed now, how Talia seemed just as out of it as him, and how they always woke up curled into each other on the couch, in the forest, in the corner of the basement. Never alone, never without one another until Peter woke up in the hospital. Despite everything, they still tried to protect each other. Despite everything, they always were ready to hold onto each other.
"I was her first Beta. Even if I didn't know why, I would have known she was different, that something was wrong. James did too, I think, but I'd believe that was his own instincts. It's why he started to work with me, train me in things he'd learned growing up. No one but Talia, our mother, and I knew his family history. He was a good mentor, and a better father and friend. I hero worshiped him, I think that's the right way to say it, and I absorbed all he told me like a sponge. I was good at hand-to-hand with a weapon. He was proud of me for that one, well for a lot of things but he took real joy in teaching me that. I don't know if you've noticed, Christopher, but most wolves don't know how to use fighting knives, relying on their teeth and claws."
"Believe it or not, I had noticed."
They can chuckle about it now, when they're once more meeting for lunch and trying to normalize their routine. Peter had insisted, wanting to ensure they were available for the kiddies if something came up. Chris hadn't exactly wanted to be available, a bit more protective these days over the man in front of him, but saw the logic in what he was saying. They were the strongest allies these kids had and were more willing to get their hands dirty, a necessary skill in their world. Still, if the teens notice anything different about Peter and deign to say something, he'll handle it himself. He likes this Peter, the quiet and thoughtful one that carries his sadness like a holy mantel across his shoulders, who doesn't gnash his teeth when mentioning the past. He doesn't want to lose him like he's lost everyone else (this is the Peter that his family must have known, the one that ran after pups and learned trick shots on the weekends and wanted to study History in college, this is the Peter that would be willing to do anything for his family, anything, even let himself burn and bleed and die just for the chance to satisfy his revenge, even if his actions turned him into a monster in the process).
College Peter remembers fully except for a few nights where he may have tried to poison himself to see how much alcohol a werewolf could have before his liver shut down (Chris demands he never try again, doesn’t look too hard at the why of that one either with Peter agreeing wholeheartedly, grinning at him across the table). A first cousin named Elizabeth who had popped into the world as human and was determined to stay that way, came to live in his room at the house to help with Cora while he was away. She stayed far longer than that though, a good sort of person and willing to be a core part of their little family instead of on the fringes. She was sweet and nerdy, according to Peter, and ends up a middle school teacher at the local school once the youngest Hale begins going there for kindergarten. Then Peter graduated with honors, history with a focus in folklore, and he returns home, picks up Cora from school everyday and starts to teach her things about wolves like her mother should be doing. More and more, he and Talia argue over what to do about the hunters that seem to frequent the edges of Beacon Hills. More and more neither of them seem to remember the arguments later and nothing gets done in the meantime. Even Maggie moved into the house despite Talia always having said she wasn't allowed and the rest, they suppose, is history.
Strangely, Peter's mind still gets a little hazy when he mentions the nights at the Nemeton. He remembers catching an arrow, the barbs slashing his palm a bright point of pain that is easy to recall. He remembers hiding in the roots of the tree, Talia coming for him and Derek later. He also describes it being harder to control himself after that, his quicksilver tongue already loose from years of his emotions mounting without resolution that Peter can't fathom if some of the things he remembers are thoughts or spoken aloud.
When those memories come to light, vague though they are, they change from lunches to dinners to account for the need for liquor.
"Peter, I need you to think very carefully. Did you bleed on the Nemeton?"
"I can't remember, Christopher. I honestly can't. Everything was happening so quickly and I could only focus on getting us home." A pained look crosses his face before it solidifies into something resolute. "Derek might though. I'll ask him."
"Not without me."
Peter watches him from the corner of his eye, pretending to focus on a basketball game on TV, the gaze bright and sparkling in the dark of the wing's place they're eating at. Something catches in Chris' throat at the way the look makes the air around them shiver, just for a moment, the feeling surrounding him and crawling up his spine as he takes a deep draw from his beer bottle to cover the twitch of his own lips (was this what he wanted when he pleaded for Peter's help, this feeling of being pinned under his attention and laid bare like the other can see inside him, as if Chris hasn't been dreaming of that very thing for a few nights now, not willing to tell the wolf next to him about his shifted focus - there's something freeing about thinking of being pinned by the other, of red eyes and canine teeth at his throat sinking in, destroying him, changing him, proving that monsters get second chances too).
"No. I suppose I can’t do that alone, now can I. Together, yes? Tell me, Christopher, what time are you free this Saturday?"
@petopher-events
If you're wondering about the Nemeton, Peter's blood sacrifice, and where it came from, it's because I read this meta by athenadark. It sparked half an idea in my own brain that I then poked and prodded until it became something that made sense of some of the timeline / character choice stuff that I'd always struggled with in TW in regards to Peter, as well as was far more elegantly worded than my keysmash headcanons that take up residence in the back of my brain and only come out when tired.
@petopher-events Moon and Stars
This is from the early days of their casual sleeping/flirting phase. Chris was hunting down a rogue and injured his foot (amongst other injuries) and somehow decided to call Peter.... just two days after arguing with him how did not need anybody or anything-he was self-sufficient. Peter is so smug about it (but he was also so fucking worried, he had ran towards Chris in whatever he was wearing i.e. pajamas and socks)
I'm Sorry (like a pipe through the gut)
Petopher | Teen+ | 1,675 words | 1/1 chapters
He takes solace in the fact that even if they can’t be saved - even if it’s too late for them - Peter still loves him. Peter still loves him.
For @petopher-events May 2023, Day 3 "Time"!
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Living Memory
Chris Argent/Peter Hale
De-Aged Peter Hale, Witches, Magic, Pack Dynamics, Playing fast and loose with Canon ages and timeline, Pack Bonding, Pack Cuddles, Post-Canon, Petopher, Mild Hurt/Comfort-ish, If You Squint
For Petopher Event 2023 Day Three: Time Day Seven: Magic
Summary: Peter is hit by a spell and is de-aged to 20. The pack gets to know Peter as he was and they fix some things along the way.
@petopher-events
candles and crystals
When Chris opened the door, his confusion only intensified. The lights were off—but several flickering candles placed around the room dimly lit the space. Peter and Jackson were laying on Allison’s bed, while the girls were on the floor—all of them in the same position, on their backs with their eyes closed and palms turned upwards at their sides. Seven stones, each of a different color, were purposefully situated along their bodies.
“What’s…going on?” Chris asked carefully, unsure of what sort of ritual they would be attempting in his absence.
read on AO3 (or under the cut)
Considering Chris had a perfectly good two-car driveway in front of the house he single-handedly bought, he figured it was kind of unfair that he always ended up having to park his SUV along the sidewalk in front of the neighbor’s house. Peter’s Mustang and Jackson’s Porsche stole the driveway most days, “because they’re too expensive to be on the street,” Malia’s truck very rarely left the curb in front of the house, and Allison’s car always managed to squeeze in just behind it—leaving not a single foot of room for Chris’ own vehicle. On his own property.
He wished he could be more annoyed by it. He wished it didn’t make a small, hidden spot in his chest light up with a comforting warmth that whispered, “Family.”
If someone were to ask him how his life turned out this way—how or when Peter Hale and his two long-lost trouble-makers decided to move into his home—he couldn’t tell them. All he knew was that he definitely hadn’t invited them. Perhaps it was his own fault for buying a four bedroom house for just himself and Allison. The stragglers were bound to claim the empty spaces.
And Chris would be a damn liar if he said the sudden liveliness wasn’t—in his quietest, most secret thoughts—comforting and welcomed and appreciated. It wasn’t until silence and peace felt unbearably uncomfortable to him that he realized the oddly-heartening chaos that came with a house full of teenagers and werewolves was what family was supposed to feel like. Quite frankly, he had no idea how he’d survived without it for so long.
Peter Hale was a very unexpected addition to Chris’ life. When the majority of the pack went off to college, someone had to protect Beacon Hell—and that responsibility fell to Chris and Peter, whether they liked it or not. Their partnership began with pointed jabs and sneers, like knives being spit across the room at each other, as they spent long nights researching the creatures that decided their town was a good place to terrorize. A few boxes of old books from the Hale Vault ended up in Chris’ bookshelf, and Peter bought a new couch for his office, since the one Chris already had was apparently, “unendurably hideous and excruciatingly uncomfortable.” Those long nights occasionally stretched to early mornings, with both men afflicted by exhaustion and all-encompassing headaches. Chris had an expensive coffee maker, and lots of fun syrups to play with, and Peter was remarkably talented at making eggs in far more styles than Chris had even known existed. The sharp remarks never ceased, but they softened—their edges turning more blunt with each passing day, until they fell from smiling lips.
And then a wendigo took a bite out of Chris’ side, and he woke up in a hospital with a blood-covered Peter at his bedside. He was slumped over, face buried in his palm, clearly hanging onto consciousness by a thread —but firm black lines continuously snaked up his arm from where he was holding onto Chris’ wrist.
Things were different after that. Not immediately, but gradually—in a way Chris’ didn’t really notice until they’d already happened. Peter started grocery shopping for him, and stopping by with recipes to tackle most nights a week. He started replacing or adding furniture to the house as he saw fit. He changed the drapes, because they apparently blocked too much light from the living room. One day, Chris came home to find paint swatches laid across the table with a sticky note reading, ‘For the downstairs bathroom. Sea Green is the correct answer, but I’m sure you’ll prefer something unbearably tacky.’
At some point, there was a touch that lingered a bit too long—and then a kiss that burned so fiercely against their mouths that Chris thought he might die unless he let it consume him, and so he did.
Peter floated around Chris’ house like he belonged there, as if he’d bought the place himself—and Chris forgot what it was like without his presence. He never wanted to remember.
When Chris let himself into the house, he paused. It was oddly quiet for a Friday evening—especially since everybody’s cars were there. There was no laughter tumbling down the stairs, or fights booming in the walls, or televisions blasting. Dinner wasn’t cooking.
As he made his way towards the stairwell, he picked up on something. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the hall that he recognized it as some sort of soft instrumental music coming from Allison’s bedroom. It wasn’t something she usually listened to, so he almost wasn’t sure if he wanted to knock. If he interrupted her and Scott doing anything, he was going to have an aneurysm.
“You can come in,” Peter’s voice came from inside, clearly hearing him.
When he opened the door, his confusion only intensified. The lights were off—but several flickering candles placed around the room dimly lit the space. Peter and Jackson were laying on Allison’s bed, while the girls were on the floor—all of them in the same position, on their backs with their eyes closed and palms turned upwards at their sides. Seven stones, each of a different color, were purposefully situated along their bodies.
“What’s…going on?” Chris asked carefully, unsure of what sort of ritual they would be attempting in his absence.
“We’re meditating,” Jackson whispered.
“With rocks?”
“They’re crystals,” Allison corrected. “We’re unblocking our chakras and finding stability.”
“I see.”
Peter gave a dramatic sigh. “Allison thinks I need healing.”
“We all do,” Chris agreed, utilizing his lifetime of hunter training to maintain his composure in the face of this ridiculousness. He’d seen a lot of things in the supernatural world, and he’d be willing to believe a great deal more—but there had to be a line drawn somewhere. He was drawing it at crystal healing. “And you all think this will work?”
“I believe in nature,” Malia said simply.
“We’ve spent too much money on crystals, chakra candles, sage, and whatever else Allison put in the cart, to not believe in them,” Jackson mumbled. “We have to now.”
“Well, carry on,” Chris said with a nod. He looked around the room a final time, then backed out and shut the door. As he headed for the stairs, he called out, “I’m ordering pizza for dinner!”
“I want pineapple!” Jackson shouted.
“Shut up!” Allison hissed. “You’re ruining the meditative vibe.”
Chris was too old for this shit.
@petopher-events prompt - time (like going back in time, in my mind) & comfort
young Chris and Peter were supposed to hangout/ have a mellow date but Chris was too tired from the training and dozed off. And Peter - the doting boyfriend he is- is dutifully lending him his soft, warm and comfy fur.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
I'll Alway Come Back
Chris Argent/Peter Hale
Canon Compliantish, Canonical Character Death, Canon Temporary Character Death, Spiritual medium, Clairvoyance, 5 Times, 5+1, Petopher, Rated Teen because I have a potty mouth
For Petopher Event 2023 Day Two: Candles and Crystals
Summary: Chris visits a medium after Peter dies.
or
5 times Chris calls Peter’s spirit + 1 time he doesn't.
@petopher-events
