Only He saw

Return to the Hale House

Slowly blinking, Peter turned his head, taking in the figure next to him, sleeping in the darkened room. Stiles. He looks so peaceful, Peter thought, regretful he hadn't managed to make every single one of his waking moment just as peaceful. Letting the steady heartbeat lull him into the void between sleep and wakefulness, he thinks about Stiles' reaction to Scott's death. He'd gradually come out of his shell again, the ache in his heart diminishing, but Peter knew it would take years to fully abate, and even then, the memories would still be painful.

Peters thoughts drifted back to the time he had suffered the loss of his family, and the pain and hurt that had stayed with him for a decade after. It wasn't easy, still. It never would be. But he'd learnt to mask it, and distract himself, and learn not to suffer the guilt of surviving. He'd made it, and he needed to prove that he could keep surviving!

Looking at the graduation cap hooked on the side of the desk chair, he smiled, thinking about Stiles' excitement for his graduation the next day. After so much pain and suffering, he could finally leave! Peter was so, so ready to leave with him.

Sitting up, he let the sheets pool around his waist as he turned to Stiles. Gently pushing his shoulder, he waited for the teen to wake up. "Stiles..?" He murmured, chuckling at the displeased groan from the unresponsive teen.

"It's to early, come back to sleep!" Stiles mumbled, reaching his hands up to Peter, pulling him down. Peter huffed, and shook his head, grinning as Stiles frowned sleepily.

"I'm going to get some old stuff from the house." He murmured, Stiles, opening his eyes fully, scrambling upright, eyes concerned as he as he stared at Peter.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Stiles asked quietly, squeezing his hand. Peter hummed, and shook his head, smiling lightly, Stiles pouted in mock offence and clutched his hands to his chest.

"I love you, and I want you to stay in bed and sleep like you secretly want to do," He grins, Stiles laughs disbelievingly, prepared to object, before shaking his head in amusement. Peter was right, after all, Stiles did love his sleep. But he loved Peter too! And he would get out of bed at an ungodly hour for him anytime! Maybe?

"Have fun, then, boyfriend o' mine." He sing-songs, retreating back under his duvet until Peter could only see a tuft of hair protruding out of the bed. Snorting, Peter slowly pulled the duvet down to kiss Stiles on the forehead, then left to get changed.

Fifteen minutes later, he shut the front door, letting out a long sigh, happy to breathe in the fresh, forest air again, it never failed to relax him. Crossing the street, he smiles blandly at an elderly lady walking in the opposite way to him, who stares for a second, then returns the grin enthusiastically.

"Good morning, miss," Peter smiles, walking past her, uncomfortably stopping when she slows in front of him.

"Morning! It's Mrs Hutchins, but you can call me Anne!" She says, face kind and mock flirtatious, extending a hand to shake Peter's.

He smiles openly, surprised at the warm, welcoming action, and shakes the hand of the lady enthusiastically. "I'm Peter," He grins, face happy. It had been a long time since people in the Beacon Hills had been at all hospitable to the Were, and he hadn't realised just how much he had missed it.

Smiling shyly, Anne smiles one last time at Peter, then continues down the street, humming to herself as she shouldered her bag. Peter looks after her, a small smile on his elated face. Shaking his head amusedly, he continues down the road towards the woods until he hears a banging.

Looking up in confusion, he sees Stiles banging on his windows, bright smile on his face. Seeing he got the mans attention, he grins, giving him a thumbs up, before waving. Peter laughed, then gave him a thumbs up in return, walking away with a lighter, more content step.

Spotting the dirt path leading into the cluster of trees, he jogged over to it, slowing to a walk as he entered the shade of the forest. Fifteen minutes later, he found himself ducking under the branches and low-lying trees, until he hesitated, seeing the husk of the burned out house filtering through the trees.

Catching his breath, Peter slowed to a halt, only feet away from his old home, now reduced to a mere shell of its former glory. Stepping closer cautiously, he lets out a shuddering breath, clenching his fists in an attempt to stop the onslaught of pain.

Squaring his shoulders, he goes in, staring past the blackened walls and scorched remains of furniture, until he stood crouching in the corner of the quiet room. The lounge. Eyes trained on the burnt floorboards, he gently tests the closest one, shaking his head minutely as it stubbornly stays in place. Going along the wall methodically, he gasps in relief as one of the warped floorboards falls out of place, revealing a dull glint beneath it.

Peter smiles, reaching in and gently retrieving the now dusty ring, so different to how it was the last time he had seen it. It was his brother's wedding ring, made to match Talias. As the thought crosses his mind, he frowns, wondering where the other ring was. Talia and his brother had left them there during the fire, when there was no hope of them escaping, in the hopes that the wood would save them from being obliterated by the fire.

Slowly standing up, he turns around, eyes on the ring in his clasped hand and his face furrowed in confusion. Looking up, his heart jumps, but his face remained impassive. Derek stood in front of him, the usual glare that adorned his face a little more helpless and vulnerable than usual.

"I have it," Derek said softly. Peter quirked an eyebrow, unimpressed before Derek lifted a string that lay around his neck out of the confines of his shirt, weakly showing a similar ring to the one in Peters' hand to him.

"I see. And I suppose you want to keep it." Peter frowns, shaking his head before heading out of the room, passing him. Derek stares, and then moves frantically, his hand outstretched as he grabs Peters arm. Stiffening, he hastily retreats it, as Peter turns around and looks at him questioningly.

"Why do you want them?" Derek asks quietly, not meeting Peters' eyes. Peter goes still, fiddling with the ring in his hands as his gaze is fixed on the one around Derek's neck.

"I have plans in the far future involving the giving of rings, and I wanted to make sure it was special," Peter replied cooly, gaze hard. Derek stared, equal parts flabbergasted and curious. Peter was planning to marry?

"Who?" Derek demanded, striding forward, ignoring Peters harried sigh.

"I see no reason to tell you," Smirked his uncle, enjoying the annoyance on his nephew's face. Derek just growled, waiting for an adequate response. Peter rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "Stiles." He utters, simply, smiling, despite the thought.

Derek withdraws, scowl back firmly on his face. "Oh." He mumbles, fiddling undecidedly with the ring. "Okay." Peter nods warily, unsure how the younger Were will take the news. "I'm sorry, about...everything," Derek whispers, eyes troubled.

Peter stands in front of him silently, eyes hard. "I'm not the one you let down." He glares, heavily hinting. Stiles. Derek nods apprehensively but looks nervous. Peter sighs, shaking his head. "I don't think Stiles wants to see you, or that he ever will. You were the worst of the worst, Derek. Sort your shit out." Derek gapes, flustered, nodding uncomfortably.

"Ok," He mumbles, watching Peter scoff in disgust.

"You really don't care, huh?" Peter asks words dripped in venom.

Derek stands rigid, saying nothing. Peter glares at him, before wilting. "This isn't going anywhere, so I'm going to go. Goodbye, nephew." He says, cooly. before turning away and striding out of the house. Good riddance.

As he reaches the forest line, he hears the soft chink of something falling to the ground, stiffening, he looks down and sees the ring on the ground, the string it was on sitting in stark contrast against the dark soil. Looking back, he sees Derek turning back into the house. Slowly reaching down, Peter grabs the ring and slips it into his pocket with the other. Though he didn't plan to marry Stiles anytime soon, it only seemed right that when they had been settled into their new house for a couple of years, to ask the big question, Stiles and Peter were soulmates! It was literally written in the stars.!

Happily, Peter smiled, turning back to the first path to return to the Stilinski household, wrings sitting heavy against his leg in his pocket. The bands of metal promised love, and acceptance, both of which Peter sorely missed.