Chapter Text
Peter parked the Camaro in the local church's lot, then walked three blocks back to the Stilinski house, not wanting to give anything for the Sheriff's neighbors to talk to him about later on. He doubted that he would be welcome there, anyway - Stiles had made that much clear to him. But he wasn't there to see Stiles, so he was ignoring the boy's warning.
When he reached the house, he knocked on the front door and sighed when Stiles opened it and glared at him.
"Why are you here?"
"No thanking me for knocking like a civilized person, then?" Peter waited, then rolled his eyes when Stiles still hadn't thanked him a minute later. "I'm not here to see you. Can daddy's little arsonist come out and play?"
"You're sick." Stiles scowled and shook his head. "I don't wanna know how you know about that, but even -"
"Stiles." Summer interrupted, nudging her brother out of the way. "What do you want, RePete?"
"You don't seriously care what he wants, do you?" Stiles demanded, gaping after his sister when she ignored him and walked out onto the porch. He liked staying behind the scenes when he could, when it came to doing things that would get them into trouble. Summer had always preferred the direct approach, and he couldn't protect her when she was voluntarily putting herself in danger. He sighed when she leaned toward the door to pull it shut, backing up to get out of the way.
"I'd like to offer my gratitude for what you did. I would have preferred to say so much sooner, but I was sidetracked by being dead. I know you're the one who set the fire at the Argent house."
"I didn't do it for you. I did it because she killed kids that never had a chance to live. Besides, my mom was friends with your sister. I was named after her. I would have liked the opportunity to get to know everyone in your family a little more, but Kate Argent took that away from me." Summer stared at Peter as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Was that all you wanted? Because you can leave now. You're welcome, I guess. But like I said, it wasn't for you."
Peter gave her a knowing smile. "Then why bother coming out here onto the porch and closing the door on your brother? Were you hoping for me to say something else?"
"What else would you even have to say to me?" Summer shrugged a shoulder at Peter. "I just thought that..." She faltered. "That you would rather not say whatever it was in front of Stiles. You know he hates you, right?"
"Believe me, I'm aware. But you don't hate me? After all, you are friends with Lydia as well."
"You knew you were going to die." Summer blurted. "That's why you did it. At least, that's all I can figure. You knew something about Lydia being immune, and you used it to your advantage."
"I know things about a lot of people. Yourself included." Peter put his hands on her shoulders, studying her to see how she would react. When she didn't move, he relaxed, leaving his hands where they were. "Like the fact that you're drawn to fire. That should be the thing that repels me when it comes to you, but perhaps there's more of a masochist in me than I would like to admit."
"Do you..." Summer licked her lips as she made eye contact with his own. "I want..."
"Yes?" Peter smirked.
"Do you like me, or are you playing a game with me right now?" Summer asked self-consciously, then took a step back, away from Peter. "Why am I even asking? You wouldn't tell me if you were trying to screw with me, would you?"
"I don't believe I'd have to tell you if my intent was to screw with you." Peter chuckled when Summer blushed. "Now, what was it that you were saying you wanted?"
"N-nothing." She stammered. "Those were just words that happened to be said in a certain order. They didn't mean anything."
"So if I were to lean in and kiss you, that would be a bad idea." He watched her bite her lip, knowing that he was making her question where her own loyalties were. "Your brother isn't your keeper, you realize?" He winked when she looked up at him, her expression revealing that she was still uncertain. "One kiss wouldn't be so terrible."
"Do you think that's what Judas told Jesus?" Summer's lips twitched as she smiled hesitantly. "You're a lot older than me."
"You're not saying no." Peter countered. "You could consider it a thank you. Just someone showing their gratitude for... we'll call it services rendered."
"That makes it sound worse than it is." Summer protested. "And I told you. I didn't do this for you. You didn't answer my question, either. Is this just some sick way for you to amuse yourself?"
"It's funny how you Stilinskis like to twist your words around or change the subject in an effort to confuse someone that you're not sure you want to have a conversation with. I didn't hear a single no anywhere in what you just said."
Summer closed her eyes. "Okay." She murmured. "You... you can kiss me if you want to."
Peter leaned in to kiss her cheek. He whispered in her ear. "Yes."
Summer opened her eyes to see Peter walking down the steps of the front porch. "Yes, what? Which question gets the yes answer?"
"You're an intelligent young woman. I'm sure you can figure that answer out." Peter called over his shoulder.