Teen Wolf - Peter/Stiles, PG13/R, AU
Title: all in a twilight, you and I alike
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning
Warnings: killers killing and not being at all sorry; mentions of violence/blood/gore; mentions of dub-con and future dub-con; grief; characters mindfucking each other left, right, and center
Rating: PG
Pairings: Peter/Stiles, mentions of Kate/Derek, (mostly) onesided Derek/Stiles
Wordcount: 2050
Point of view: third
Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Second Sight’
previously
They start with Chris Argent, out combing the woods in a bout of grief- and rage-filled insomnia.
Stupid. So stupid. Maybe he’d have been a threat a month ago, but he’s been spiraling since Allison died. Scott has spent hours at the Argent house, grieving in Allison’s room, the only person who was able to go in; Stiles goes with him, sometimes. Offers his condolences to the family. Even talked to Allison’s amazing Aunt Kate, who Allison had so adored, about ancient practices of grief. He researched it on the internet so he could help Scott.
Amazing Aunt Kate. Most of his mind was on the conversation. The rest was painting her in blood, and wondering what Derek would do. Was capable of doing.
Stiles hopes it burns.
But Chris Argent, Allison’s overprotective and terrifying father, he’s in Alpha’s woods. Hale woods. Alpha’s in his mutated alpha form (Derek had explained about halfshift vs fullshift, but he couldn’t give a reasonable explanation for Alpha’s form being so different from Laura’s) and Derek’s wearing his wolf, too, but Stiles hasn’t shifted yet.
“Do you want him?” Alpha rumbles and Stiles looks away from the human stumbling against a tree.
“If you’ll let me have him,” Stiles replies, fingers itching to grow claws, fangs itching to come out. He wants to howl so loud it knocks the hunter down, but he holds it in.
The moon is waning tonight. The hunters are gathering forces.
Chris Argent should’ve stayed home with his crazy sister, scary wife, and evil dad, but instead he’s sobbing in the woods.
“Take him, beta,” Alpha orders.
Stiles circles around him, silent as moonlight, and then pounces on him from behind. Argent yells as he goes down and Stiles shoves his face into the dirt. Argent struggles ineffectively for a few minutes, until his body realizes it’s not getting enough air. After Argent’s arms still, as his body settles, Stiles pushes all the way down - until his claws go through Argent’s head, digging into the brain that thought hunting was a fine thing to do.
Stupid human.
Stiles stands up and licks at the claw on his thumb. He can hear Alpha laughing, but Derek is grumbling under his breath. Stiles looks back at them, as Alpha lopes up and Derek slowly follows. “Well done,” Alpha tells him, reaching for his hand.
Derek looks away and Stiles whimpers as Alpha methodically and carefully licks each of Stiles’ claws clean of Argent’s blood and brain matter.
“Derek,” Peter orders when they’re all wearing human faces again, “tidy up the trash. Stiles, go home and get some sleep.” He gently pats Stiles on the cheek. “You have school tomorrow.”
Stiles doesn’t glance back at Derek gathering up the body; he wants to howl the whole way home because this was the easiest kill yet.
.
Next was Victoria Argent, on the way back from reporting her husband missing. She didn’t want to; Stiles had heard her arguing with Gerard and Kate, while he sat with Scott in silence, huddled together on Allison’s bed, and after it was done, he reported gleefully every horrible thing Gerard had shouted, everything Kate hissed.
The town was watching them, since Allison’s death. She’d been well-liked around Beacon Hills and her tragically cut-short life was all the gossips could talk about. And since everyone knew how protective her father had been…
Well, people would notice if they didn’t see Chris Argent for a while. And since no business could have pried him from town while whatever killed his daughter was still loose -
So Victoria Argent, holding onto her sister-in-law for strength, walked into the sheriff’s station and her voice broke when she told the sheriff that her husband hadn’t come last night.
While they were talking to Stiles’ dad, Gerard and most of his men started combing the woods again, though they hadn’t found anything last time, or the time before that. Derek’s apartment was in the middle of town; Peter still lived at the long-term care facility. And, Stiles - well, he lived with the sheriff. There was nothing in the woods for hunters to find.
Except for the ashes in the Hale basement, covered in dirt. No human nose would be able to tell the difference, and no dog would go near the place, so Gerard and his goons were just SOL.
Kate dropped Victoria off at the house and headed for the woods. Derek was at the apartment and as soon as Peter slipped into the Argents’ back door, that’s where Stiles went, too.
.
“Do you,” Derek starts hesitantly, not glancing up from the floor, “do you - like? What Uncl-Uncle Peter is doing?”
“Dude, are you crazy?” Stiles laughs. “I fuckin’ love it.”
Stiles looks up from his laptop to catch Derek’s flabbergasted stare. “I have his memories of that night, Derek,” Stiles says, dropping all levity. This is a side of Stiles Derek hasn’t met much; back when he was luring Derek in, Stiles was all smiles and babbling. But now that Derek is pack, Stiles doesn’t feel the need to hide what he’s really feeling, and right now - right now, he’s feeling a lot. “I heard them howling and screaming; I burned. I tried to save them and barely survived. Often, I wish I hadn’t.”
Derek flinches, looking away, jaw clenched. “I know that Alpha is not your Uncle Peter,” Stiles continues. “Your Uncle Peter burned. He died with most of the pack. But he is Alpha. And I am his beta.”
When Derek keeps his eyes away, Stiles says, “Look at me, Derek.” Slowly, Derek turns his head back to meet Stiles’ gaze, and Stiles tells him, “Until Alpha’s vengeance is satisfied, I will do whatever necessary. And I will enjoy the shit out of it.”
Derek still looks conflicted. Stiles doesn’t really understand it; from what he knows, what he’s guessed, and what he saw through Peter’s eyes, Derek (more than most) should be baying for Argent blood.
Stiles bounces off the bed, leaving the laptop, and goes to Derek. He stands so close their chests brush each other, and curls his arms around Derek’s neck, caressing the back of his head with claws. “Tell me, beta, what you want,” Stiles murmurs, looking Derek straight in the eye.
Derek shudders, breath caught. Stiles waits. He’s Peter’s second, right hand, favorite. Derek is bloodkin of Alpha, but he’s not loyal, not all the way, not yet.
He’s looking at Stiles’ mouth. Trembling in Stiles’ grip. Stiles can smell the want, practically taste it. “Derek,” he says again, gently pressing his claws into the fragile skin of Derek’s scalp. The same claws Alpha thoroughly cleaned of Argent filth.
“I want Kate,” Derek admits, voice shaking. “I want her blood, her guts, her death. I want to tear her apart, and then tear those pieces apart, until nothing is left. I want her to scream and beg and choke on her own juices, and then I want to resurrect her and do it all again.” By the end, he’s breathing heavily, voice filling the room, and Stiles just keeps stroking the back of his head, down to his shoulders, and up again.
“So you see the rightness of what Alpha is doing?” Stiles asks softly.
Derek nods, leaning a little against Stiles.
“C’mon,” Stiles says, backing up towards the bed without unwinding his arms. Instead of pulling away, Derek follows. Stiles carefully falls onto the bed, leading Derek down. “C’mon,” Stiles says again when Derek just lays there like a log. “Cuddle,” he tells Derek, shoving the laptop to the side, up under the pillows. “It’s fun,” he cajoles.
When Derek doesn’t get the hint, Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing in disgust, and pounces on him. “Cuddle,” he commands, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his packbrother.
It’s a long few minutes before Derek holds him in return, but by the time Peter walks in the door, Derek’s asleep in Stiles’ arms. It’s sleep he definitely needs, too, because he doesn’t wake up at Peter’s entrance.
“Two left,” Peter says. “I’ll let you boys rest,” he continues, turning to go. “Tomorrow, after school, we’ll be having a pack meeting at your house.”
“Oh, and Stiles,” he adds in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, at where Derek is mostly on Stiles, “now that my nephew is in the pack, there will be no seducing. Is that clear?”
Stiles nods. “Yes, Peter,” he says.
Derek wants Stiles. Stiles doesn’t want Derek; he wants Peter. He mostly has Peter, but Peter won’t do certain things (not yet, he told Stiles, when Stiles asked why), but Stiles can wait. Of course he can.
Maybe that’ll be the celebration, when the Argents are all dead.
Derek is in the pack now, so Stiles doesn’t have to convince him by any means necessary.
Derek’s nose and mouth are pressed into Stiles’ neck, one hand rests over Stiles’ heart, and he’s asleep. Despite everything -
Stiles closes his eyes at the realization that Derek trusts him.
Shit, he thinks. Derek wants him, and Derek trusts him, and this is not the time. After the Argents are dead, when Peter expands the pack -
Maybe then.
(Maybe never.)
.
To get rid of Gerard Argent’s army, Stiles takes Scott into the woods. Derek is the bait; he catches one of the hunter’s eyes then lopes away, in the general direction that Stiles and Scott are hiking. When they hear the gunfire, they both panic, calling 911 and Dad’s cell simultaneously.
Considering how close the town is to flipping the fuck out, a dozen men with only two gun permits between them, semi-automatic weapons, and two kids who were almost killed - well.
The fact that Gerard’s granddaughter was torn apart and his son and daughter-in-law are missing doesn’t give him a free pass for illegal weapons, or the armory he has no legal right to have in his son’s house.
Or the fact that some of the weapons seized solve well over twenty cold cases all over the country.
Half of Gerard’s army flees Beacon Hills. Three are arrested and extradited to stand trial for murder. The rest are terrified of Kate more than they fear the law, and that’s the only reason they stay.
But now, the sheriff is watching them. Now, the clock is ticking.
Scott doesn’t go back to the Argent house. Stiles spends an entire hour laughing, slumped against Peter (ignoring the way Derek watched them, pretending he couldn’t smell jealousy and desire).
.
Kate is easy, half out of her mind with hate and rage and grief. She’s shooting at the old Hale house and Stiles stumbles into the meadow that used to be the backyard, and he ducks when Kate swings around, shouting, “It’s me! Scott’s friend! Please don’t kill me!”
“Stiles,” she shouts, “What the fuck are you doing here!” She turns back to shoot at the house and Stiles stands up smoothly, smirking.
He quickly pulls the act back around him to say, “I was out walking, heard the shots. What are you doing, Ms. Argent?”
She doesn’t look at him as she drops the gun to replace it with another, cursing under breath about monsters.
Monsters. Stiles clenches his fists because she has no right to talk about monsters.
“Kate,” he calls, closer than he was when she turned her back, “there’s someone who’s been waiting for you.”
Peter’s roar fills the air and Kate spins around, but Stiles grabs the gun from her. She looks at him in shock and disbelief, and he grins, baring all his teeth, letting his true eyes shine out.
“Your brother and sister-in-law are in that house,” he tells her. “And after my packbrother is done with you, if anything is left, that’s where you’ll go, too.”
Kate lunges for him, but he dodges, grabbing all the guns on the ground as he does.
“Derek,” Alpha says. “See to your present, nephew.”
Kate screams in hatred, in fury - in fear, by the end. Alpha and Stiles watch. Alpha says, “This is justice, letting her dupe have her. Don’t you agree, beta?”
“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles answers.
When Derek is done, panting for breath and spread out beside Stiles on the grass, Alpha chuckles, “And then there was one.”
Disclaimer: not my characters; title from Browning
Warnings: killers killing and not being at all sorry; mentions of violence/blood/gore; mentions of dub-con and future dub-con; grief; characters mindfucking each other left, right, and center
Rating: PG
Pairings: Peter/Stiles, mentions of Kate/Derek, (mostly) onesided Derek/Stiles
Wordcount: 2050
Point of view: third
Prompt: Placebo’s ‘Second Sight’
previously
They start with Chris Argent, out combing the woods in a bout of grief- and rage-filled insomnia.
Stupid. So stupid. Maybe he’d have been a threat a month ago, but he’s been spiraling since Allison died. Scott has spent hours at the Argent house, grieving in Allison’s room, the only person who was able to go in; Stiles goes with him, sometimes. Offers his condolences to the family. Even talked to Allison’s amazing Aunt Kate, who Allison had so adored, about ancient practices of grief. He researched it on the internet so he could help Scott.
Amazing Aunt Kate. Most of his mind was on the conversation. The rest was painting her in blood, and wondering what Derek would do. Was capable of doing.
Stiles hopes it burns.
But Chris Argent, Allison’s overprotective and terrifying father, he’s in Alpha’s woods. Hale woods. Alpha’s in his mutated alpha form (Derek had explained about halfshift vs fullshift, but he couldn’t give a reasonable explanation for Alpha’s form being so different from Laura’s) and Derek’s wearing his wolf, too, but Stiles hasn’t shifted yet.
“Do you want him?” Alpha rumbles and Stiles looks away from the human stumbling against a tree.
“If you’ll let me have him,” Stiles replies, fingers itching to grow claws, fangs itching to come out. He wants to howl so loud it knocks the hunter down, but he holds it in.
The moon is waning tonight. The hunters are gathering forces.
Chris Argent should’ve stayed home with his crazy sister, scary wife, and evil dad, but instead he’s sobbing in the woods.
“Take him, beta,” Alpha orders.
Stiles circles around him, silent as moonlight, and then pounces on him from behind. Argent yells as he goes down and Stiles shoves his face into the dirt. Argent struggles ineffectively for a few minutes, until his body realizes it’s not getting enough air. After Argent’s arms still, as his body settles, Stiles pushes all the way down - until his claws go through Argent’s head, digging into the brain that thought hunting was a fine thing to do.
Stupid human.
Stiles stands up and licks at the claw on his thumb. He can hear Alpha laughing, but Derek is grumbling under his breath. Stiles looks back at them, as Alpha lopes up and Derek slowly follows. “Well done,” Alpha tells him, reaching for his hand.
Derek looks away and Stiles whimpers as Alpha methodically and carefully licks each of Stiles’ claws clean of Argent’s blood and brain matter.
“Derek,” Peter orders when they’re all wearing human faces again, “tidy up the trash. Stiles, go home and get some sleep.” He gently pats Stiles on the cheek. “You have school tomorrow.”
Stiles doesn’t glance back at Derek gathering up the body; he wants to howl the whole way home because this was the easiest kill yet.
.
Next was Victoria Argent, on the way back from reporting her husband missing. She didn’t want to; Stiles had heard her arguing with Gerard and Kate, while he sat with Scott in silence, huddled together on Allison’s bed, and after it was done, he reported gleefully every horrible thing Gerard had shouted, everything Kate hissed.
The town was watching them, since Allison’s death. She’d been well-liked around Beacon Hills and her tragically cut-short life was all the gossips could talk about. And since everyone knew how protective her father had been…
Well, people would notice if they didn’t see Chris Argent for a while. And since no business could have pried him from town while whatever killed his daughter was still loose -
So Victoria Argent, holding onto her sister-in-law for strength, walked into the sheriff’s station and her voice broke when she told the sheriff that her husband hadn’t come last night.
While they were talking to Stiles’ dad, Gerard and most of his men started combing the woods again, though they hadn’t found anything last time, or the time before that. Derek’s apartment was in the middle of town; Peter still lived at the long-term care facility. And, Stiles - well, he lived with the sheriff. There was nothing in the woods for hunters to find.
Except for the ashes in the Hale basement, covered in dirt. No human nose would be able to tell the difference, and no dog would go near the place, so Gerard and his goons were just SOL.
Kate dropped Victoria off at the house and headed for the woods. Derek was at the apartment and as soon as Peter slipped into the Argents’ back door, that’s where Stiles went, too.
.
“Do you,” Derek starts hesitantly, not glancing up from the floor, “do you - like? What Uncl-Uncle Peter is doing?”
“Dude, are you crazy?” Stiles laughs. “I fuckin’ love it.”
Stiles looks up from his laptop to catch Derek’s flabbergasted stare. “I have his memories of that night, Derek,” Stiles says, dropping all levity. This is a side of Stiles Derek hasn’t met much; back when he was luring Derek in, Stiles was all smiles and babbling. But now that Derek is pack, Stiles doesn’t feel the need to hide what he’s really feeling, and right now - right now, he’s feeling a lot. “I heard them howling and screaming; I burned. I tried to save them and barely survived. Often, I wish I hadn’t.”
Derek flinches, looking away, jaw clenched. “I know that Alpha is not your Uncle Peter,” Stiles continues. “Your Uncle Peter burned. He died with most of the pack. But he is Alpha. And I am his beta.”
When Derek keeps his eyes away, Stiles says, “Look at me, Derek.” Slowly, Derek turns his head back to meet Stiles’ gaze, and Stiles tells him, “Until Alpha’s vengeance is satisfied, I will do whatever necessary. And I will enjoy the shit out of it.”
Derek still looks conflicted. Stiles doesn’t really understand it; from what he knows, what he’s guessed, and what he saw through Peter’s eyes, Derek (more than most) should be baying for Argent blood.
Stiles bounces off the bed, leaving the laptop, and goes to Derek. He stands so close their chests brush each other, and curls his arms around Derek’s neck, caressing the back of his head with claws. “Tell me, beta, what you want,” Stiles murmurs, looking Derek straight in the eye.
Derek shudders, breath caught. Stiles waits. He’s Peter’s second, right hand, favorite. Derek is bloodkin of Alpha, but he’s not loyal, not all the way, not yet.
He’s looking at Stiles’ mouth. Trembling in Stiles’ grip. Stiles can smell the want, practically taste it. “Derek,” he says again, gently pressing his claws into the fragile skin of Derek’s scalp. The same claws Alpha thoroughly cleaned of Argent filth.
“I want Kate,” Derek admits, voice shaking. “I want her blood, her guts, her death. I want to tear her apart, and then tear those pieces apart, until nothing is left. I want her to scream and beg and choke on her own juices, and then I want to resurrect her and do it all again.” By the end, he’s breathing heavily, voice filling the room, and Stiles just keeps stroking the back of his head, down to his shoulders, and up again.
“So you see the rightness of what Alpha is doing?” Stiles asks softly.
Derek nods, leaning a little against Stiles.
“C’mon,” Stiles says, backing up towards the bed without unwinding his arms. Instead of pulling away, Derek follows. Stiles carefully falls onto the bed, leading Derek down. “C’mon,” Stiles says again when Derek just lays there like a log. “Cuddle,” he tells Derek, shoving the laptop to the side, up under the pillows. “It’s fun,” he cajoles.
When Derek doesn’t get the hint, Stiles rolls his eyes, sighing in disgust, and pounces on him. “Cuddle,” he commands, resting his head on Derek’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around his packbrother.
It’s a long few minutes before Derek holds him in return, but by the time Peter walks in the door, Derek’s asleep in Stiles’ arms. It’s sleep he definitely needs, too, because he doesn’t wake up at Peter’s entrance.
“Two left,” Peter says. “I’ll let you boys rest,” he continues, turning to go. “Tomorrow, after school, we’ll be having a pack meeting at your house.”
“Oh, and Stiles,” he adds in the doorway, glancing over his shoulder, at where Derek is mostly on Stiles, “now that my nephew is in the pack, there will be no seducing. Is that clear?”
Stiles nods. “Yes, Peter,” he says.
Derek wants Stiles. Stiles doesn’t want Derek; he wants Peter. He mostly has Peter, but Peter won’t do certain things (not yet, he told Stiles, when Stiles asked why), but Stiles can wait. Of course he can.
Maybe that’ll be the celebration, when the Argents are all dead.
Derek is in the pack now, so Stiles doesn’t have to convince him by any means necessary.
Derek’s nose and mouth are pressed into Stiles’ neck, one hand rests over Stiles’ heart, and he’s asleep. Despite everything -
Stiles closes his eyes at the realization that Derek trusts him.
Shit, he thinks. Derek wants him, and Derek trusts him, and this is not the time. After the Argents are dead, when Peter expands the pack -
Maybe then.
(Maybe never.)
.
To get rid of Gerard Argent’s army, Stiles takes Scott into the woods. Derek is the bait; he catches one of the hunter’s eyes then lopes away, in the general direction that Stiles and Scott are hiking. When they hear the gunfire, they both panic, calling 911 and Dad’s cell simultaneously.
Considering how close the town is to flipping the fuck out, a dozen men with only two gun permits between them, semi-automatic weapons, and two kids who were almost killed - well.
The fact that Gerard’s granddaughter was torn apart and his son and daughter-in-law are missing doesn’t give him a free pass for illegal weapons, or the armory he has no legal right to have in his son’s house.
Or the fact that some of the weapons seized solve well over twenty cold cases all over the country.
Half of Gerard’s army flees Beacon Hills. Three are arrested and extradited to stand trial for murder. The rest are terrified of Kate more than they fear the law, and that’s the only reason they stay.
But now, the sheriff is watching them. Now, the clock is ticking.
Scott doesn’t go back to the Argent house. Stiles spends an entire hour laughing, slumped against Peter (ignoring the way Derek watched them, pretending he couldn’t smell jealousy and desire).
.
Kate is easy, half out of her mind with hate and rage and grief. She’s shooting at the old Hale house and Stiles stumbles into the meadow that used to be the backyard, and he ducks when Kate swings around, shouting, “It’s me! Scott’s friend! Please don’t kill me!”
“Stiles,” she shouts, “What the fuck are you doing here!” She turns back to shoot at the house and Stiles stands up smoothly, smirking.
He quickly pulls the act back around him to say, “I was out walking, heard the shots. What are you doing, Ms. Argent?”
She doesn’t look at him as she drops the gun to replace it with another, cursing under breath about monsters.
Monsters. Stiles clenches his fists because she has no right to talk about monsters.
“Kate,” he calls, closer than he was when she turned her back, “there’s someone who’s been waiting for you.”
Peter’s roar fills the air and Kate spins around, but Stiles grabs the gun from her. She looks at him in shock and disbelief, and he grins, baring all his teeth, letting his true eyes shine out.
“Your brother and sister-in-law are in that house,” he tells her. “And after my packbrother is done with you, if anything is left, that’s where you’ll go, too.”
Kate lunges for him, but he dodges, grabbing all the guns on the ground as he does.
“Derek,” Alpha says. “See to your present, nephew.”
Kate screams in hatred, in fury - in fear, by the end. Alpha and Stiles watch. Alpha says, “This is justice, letting her dupe have her. Don’t you agree, beta?”
“Yes, Alpha,” Stiles answers.
When Derek is done, panting for breath and spread out beside Stiles on the grass, Alpha chuckles, “And then there was one.”