Back Again » Peter Hale

11

acquiesce
(v.) to accept or agree to something, often without really wanting to

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Andrea sat perched in the corner or the Hale's loft, her feet tucked underneath her with a thick leather-bound book held tight in her grasp. Dainty, thin-framed glasses sat low on her nose, Peter had never seen her wear them once before but she looked pretty in them—she looked so domestic almost. Even with her lips pursed and eyes squinting in a way that actually made her seem pretty angry, but it was cute. "What are you reading?"

"Did you know that there are thirteen different species of kitsune?" Her voice was soft, clearly too distracted or fascinated by the words before her. Internally though, she was more worried about the fact that she had identified the nogitsune and hadn't spoken up. Afraid that maybe she would speak too soon and hurt everyone, maybe even hurt the body he was inhabiting. "There are even types of kitsune that can ward off demonic entities."

One hesitant hand raised to rest on her shoulder to provide some sort of comfort to this clearly hard time but he stopped before he touched her, fearful of overstepping his boundaries. "Is there a type of kitsune that wards of nervous entities, like myself?"

Finally, she tore her eyes from the withered pages, the look in her eyes undistinguishable. "Why would you be nervous?"

"Truthfully, I haven't exactly been the most welcoming of people."

"No kidding."

The look he shot her was comical, Peter was obviously trying to seem less like an asshole and more like an actual person. For quite some time he had succumbed to his own hatred and misery, that before Andrea had returned, he was positive that he wouldn't have given a rats ass about who was possessed by what. Now that she was here, it felt a little different, now he had ties holding him down to a place that he once felt to be expendable to his plans. "I won't waste your time with a sorry but I just wanted you to be informed that I still have feelings." His words were adorably choppy, clearly laced with nerves, "For you, I mean."

His hands started sweating, the completely stoic countenance she bore was unlike any pokerface he'd ever seen. "What kind of feelings?"

Daring to step closer, he filled the space between them, sitting directly in front of her. The eye contact she held was intense, like the sharp azure in her eyes were staring directly into his soul, digging around and checking for all his dirty secrets—he hated how on display he felt.

"I feel ashamed for not getting back to you that night." The words were hushed, laced with worry that if he spoke too loudly he'd somehow have to face his inner demons sooner—a fight he wasn't sure he'd win. "I felt anger that your brother knew you were alive for so long and didn't let me help sooner. I feel love for you, a love that you earned from me as teenagers." Peter glanced down at his shoes, his dark lashes slightly damp from the emotion he harbored. "I feel a lot, things I can't put a title to so can you tell me what you feel as well so I am not the only one feeling naked and exposed here."

Oh, how the tables had turned, the spotlight moving from the handsome man before her and directly into her face.

Slightly caught off guard, she cleared her throat. It had been years, the love they shared was obviously never lost but the thought of her promising him pieces of her that she wasn't sure would remain was nagging at her. "Peter, I might not survive when the nogitsune dies."

"Might doesn't exactly instill a lot of confidence."

"Honestly, I'm just winging it." Sighing deeply, her hands running through her tangled dirty-blonde tresses. "I have feelings too, ones that I can't put a title on either," One nimble finger reached forward to test the waters, their hands touching and soon intertwining with one another.

Their chemistry was still present like a crackling fireplace, filling the room with its light and warmth. "That's enough for me, for now."

Swiftly changing the subject, Andrea reverted the attention back to the book before them, pages and pages of information on the problem at hand and very little positive outcomes. "This kid, Stiles Stilinski," The syllables of his name rolled off her tongue like a forbidden word, the seemingly normal teenage boy being taken control of by a thousand year old spirit. "—is he a good kid?"

"He's an annoying one," Peter flicked a few pages, his blue gaze skimming over the words, lips pursing. "—but sure, he's a good kid."

"Then we have to save him, it's only right."

"How? The scales aren't exactly tipping in our favor."

Sighing deeply she nods, he wasn't wrong. The promise of a hopeful ending wasn't seeming very high, but she forced herself to remain optimistic. If the nogitsune decided that her own vessel wasn't sustainable and she made it out intact, Andrea was determined to give Stiles the same outcome.

"Then we'll gain some perspective," Packing up her books and a notebook, her leather jacket being thrown over her arm as a left hand scooped up a jingling pair of shoes. "Come on, let's go."

Peter's head fell back a little in disbelief that she was dragging him further into a situation that he didn't care much for but for her he trudged forward, grabbing his own leather jacket from the coat hanger. "Where are we going?"

"You won't like it and it will possibly be dangerous."