Chapter Text
It’s been a while since Chris has spent a whole night in the forest.
He sets his camp up on the very same clearing where he often met up with Peter. The night is cold and he has to wrap himself up in several blankets to stop shivering. He spends a few hours outside, sitting on his bedroll, watching the dark forest around him. The sky is clear and starry above him. A few smaller animals sometimes pass the clearing, sending curious glances into his direction. A fox, some rabbits, a lot of mice.
Peter doesn't show up.
Eventually, when he can't keep his eyes open anymore, Chris goes to sleep inside his tent. His sleep is fickle, interrupted by suddenly cracking branches and the calls of an owl. He tosses and turns, finally catching some hours of deeper sleep in the middle of the night. It's dreamless.
In the morning, Chris wakes up with aching limbs. His throat feels dry and his mouth tastes like something died in there. He crawls out of the tent with a groan, stretching for a while, until he can move better again. He goes to the nearby stream. The flowing water is clear. Clean. Chris kneels in the frozen grass and splashes the cold water into his face. After, he scoops some of it into his hands to drink and get rid of the foul taste in his mouth. There's some noise nearby. Leaves rustle and branches crack. Chris knows it's Peter before he even sees him. He just knows.
When he raises his head, the wolf stands on the other side of the stream, staring at Chris. A blackbird sitting on a nearby branch starts to clamor loudly.
“Good morning,” Chris says. Peter just huffs and lowers his head to drink from the stream as well, never taking his eyes off Chris. Then the wolf gets some water into his nose and sneezes, the long fur at his neck wiggling. Chris snorts and chuckles. He can’t help himself. The noise and seeing Peter shaking his head to get the water out is just too adorable. Peter raises his head and glares, and God, Chris thinks he would be able to tell the wolf is Peter, even if he didn’t know it already. That is definitely a Peter glare.
"Don't worry," he teases with a grin. "You're still very majestic. A true apex predator."
Peter chuffs. He throws his head up, turns on his heels and disappears again. Chris sighs. That's what he gets for teasing a wolf. He should know better. He shakes his head and gets up on aching legs, going back to his small camp.
When Chris is preparing some sandwiches around noon, Peter returns, standing in the distance and sniffing the air.
“You want one?” Chris asks, raising the sandwich in the air. The wolf hesitates, but then he comes closer slowly, his eyes on the sandwich. Chris tries not to laugh again, when Peter stretches his neck long and takes the sandwich between his teeth, carrying it away a few metres and then sinking down into the grass to eat it. He’s basically inhaling it in seconds, licking his muzzle to get rid of the last crumbs. Chris eats his sandwich much slower and then makes some more for them, since Peter stares at him with his ears up, like he's waiting.
A little while later, Chris looks at his phone and sees that Derek wrote him a message.
Did you find anything?
Chris hesitates. He looks over to Peter who has his head on his paws and his eyes closed. He looks peaceful. Serene. Calling a wolf by his full name would change him back to human, Chris knows. But he can’t do it. Not yet. Not when Peter is obviously happy like this. At least the wolf doesn’t seem to be depressed. In the end, he types:
I found Peter. As a wolf. He’s fine. But I don’t think he’s ready to shift back yet. Don’t tell Noah anything.
A long pause. Then:
Thank you.
Nothing more. But Chris can imagine how relieved Derek is now. He puts his phone away and leans back against a tree, watching Peter and getting sleepy himself.
Chris hates that he can’t tell Noah anything. He can’t tell the Sheriff that Peter is still alive. So he has to watch helplessly and silently, when a heartbroken Noah tells Derek and Laura they couldn’t find their uncle, when the two young werewolves have to act like they’re shocked and sad. He has to reassure Noah they will be alright and has to agree to attend a symbolic funeral in the near future.
When Noah is at the station and Stiles at Melissa’s house to visit Scott, Chris goes to talk to Laura and Derek.
“He really is a wolf?” Laura asks, surprise and confusion in her eyes. And maybe a bit of jealousy, Chris thinks, but he’s not sure. “An actual wolf? I thought only Alphas manage to do the full shift.”
“I have never heard about a beta that could do it either,” Chris admits. “But apparently, he was in such an emotional distress, that his wolf took over completely, shielding him from the pain.”
“We could change him back by saying his name,” Laura says, crossing her arms. “I … I am his Alpha now. I can’t leave him alone, right?”
Derek shakes his head. “Don’t do it, Laura. You know how he’s been the last few weeks before he shifted. He hated the hospital and all these people touching him. I heard Melissa talking to Noah back then. She said she’s afraid he could become suicidal. Maybe being alone and far away from everyone is what he needs now.”
Laura looks doubtful, but Chris nods. “Derek is right. Don’t forget that he suffered a severe trauma. This was his coping mechanism apparently. If you pull him out of it violently, it could be another kind of trauma, only making everything worse. Just wait.”
Laura bites her lip. “How long am I supposed to let him prowl around in the forest, all alone? For years?”
Chris lays a hand on her shoulder. He gets her fear, her worries. “At least he’s alive and close, right? I don’t think he’s going to run away. Peter can look after himself, you know that. And I know it’s hard, you two want your uncle back, but we shouldn’t force him. He’s happy like this. Leave him be, until he returns on his own free will.”
Laura still doesn’t look convinced. “What if he doesn’t return at all? Or … what if he’s seen by the wrong people and they start to hunt him?”
That’s a thought Chris has had too. A single wolf would certainly cause a lot of fuss in the town, since California has been free of wild wolves for a long time. But he has trust in Peter when it comes to that. “Peter is smart enough not to catch attention,” he assures Laura. “And I will keep an eye on him. It’s going to be fine.”
“Okay,” she says quietly, although she still looks concerned.
Derek just looks at Chris, like he's considering something. But then, he goes upstairs in silence.
Chris is sitting on his bedroll, reading a book, when Peter comes to him the next time. He breaks out of the undergrowth, shaking his fur out and glancing over at Chris, his ears twitching. Chris doesn’t react. He just focuses on the page he’s on.
Peter approaches until he’s closer than ever, so close that Chris can hear him breathing. He looks up and sees the wolf sniffing at his duffel bag for a generous amount of time. Eventually, he lays down beside it and yawns, exposing his impressive set of white sharp teeth. Chris watches as he lays his head on his paws and closes his eyes. From up close, he can see the light brown splotches mixed into the grey and white of the wolf’s fur, as well as the almost black line leading from snout to forehead.
Chris has never seen an actual wolf. Not in real. It is certainly impressive. And a little bit intimidating. He can get why people would be scared by a wolf, by the large paws, the strong jaw and the teeth that can crack bones in seconds. He watches as Peter lazily flaps his tail to chase away a buzzing insect and smiles. “This is not so bad, you know. At least I don’t have to listen to your snarky comments all the time,” he jokes.
Peter opens one yellow eye and makes a rumbling noise.
Chris chuckles. He leans back against the tree behind him and continues reading. A few hours pass in comfortable silence. When the sun starts to sink slowly, Chris packs his book away. Peter opens his eyes and watches him attentively.
“Laura and Derek worry about you, you know,” Chris says carefully. Maybe, reminding him of his remaining family will prompt Peter to come back. Maybe.
The wolf's ear twitches. He sighs and starts to lick one of his paws.
“I just want you to know, that you’re missed. There’s someone waiting for you to come back," Chris continues.
Peter gets up and snaps at a fly, turning around and trotting away.
Chris tries not to feel disappointed. Because, he gets it. He gets that Peter keeps his distance. His whole life went up in flames and he isn't the same anymore. He surely worries his remaining family will see him differently now. Chris looks after Peter until the wolf disappears behind the trees and decides not to try that again too soon.
The evening is cold. Colder than the ones before. Chris shivers even in his many layers of clothes. His stomach rumbles and he considers setting up a trap, but before he can decide if it's worth the effort, he hears fast approaching footsteps.
Peter drops a dead rabbit in front of him. He looks up at Chris and pants, the fur around his muzzle sticky with dried blood. Chris looks down at the mangled animal and clears his throat. “Is that for me? Thanks.”
He takes his knife out to skin the animal and severs one of the upper legs. He offers Peter the rest and the wolf sinks into the grass, happily tearing away at flesh and effortlessly cracking bones.
Chris definitely won’t eat raw flesh, so he automatically prepares a fire. He collects the right kind of wood and leaves like he has learned so long ago, piling them up and pulling out a match. When he’s about to light it, there’s a quiet growl. He looks up and sees Peter standing there and watching him wide-eyed, the fur at his neck bristled and his flews pulled back slightly. Chris’ stomach sinks. Fuck. He didn’t even think about it. For a moment, he considers just taking the rabbit leg home and cooking it there. But a part of him thinks that maybe, he can prompt Peter to start to deal with his trauma instead of running away from it. Not all fire is bad, after all. He clears his throat. “Sorry, but I need the fire. I can’t eat the rabbit raw like you, you know that. And it’s getting colder with every night too. I have no fur to stay warm. It’s not dangerous, okay? I’ll have it under control the whole time. It’s safe. It won’t hurt you.”
Peter growls again and takes two steps back. Chris still lights the match and throws it on the heap, blowing gently to encourage the flames to grow. Smoke floats up and wood crackles. Peter whines and retreats further, his ears setting back. He stares at the fire, his eyes reflecting the flames.
Chris sharpens a tree branch and sticks the meat on it, holding it over the fire. It’s getting darker while the rabbit leg roasts and drips grease. Peter starts to pace restlessly, always staying behind the circle of light the fire is throwing. He makes unhappy growling noises. Chris tries not to feel bad. The fire is giving him the warmth he desperately needed today. The roasting meat starts to smell good, making his mouth water. When he deems his dinner ready, he pulls the stick away from the fire and arches his brow at Peter. “Want some?”
The wolf stops in his pacing, one paw in the air and body tense. He looks from the fire to Chris back to the fire, and makes a pitiful noise, that actually causes Chris’ stomach to clench. Before he can say so much as Peter’s name, the wolf turns and runs away, disappearing in the woods.
Chris doesn’t see him for a whole week.
But Peter comes back and when Chris makes another fire, he stays. He’s still pacing and growling constantly, but he stays. It’s progress.
On a snowy Sunday, when Chris’ fingers feel numb even though the flames are close and tall, Peter appears with prey again. This time though, it’s not a rabbit. Chris is quite sure his jaw drops when he sees what Peter is dragging through the snow. It’s a whole female mule deer. And it’s heavy, judging by the way the wolf’s muscles strain while pulling at it. “Dear God,” Chris murmurs. Peter drops the deer quite close to the fire, looking up and panting, his open mouth exposing bloodied teeth. He looks over to Chris and tilts his head. Chris immediately gets the request directed at him. He gets up and drags the deer the last few metres towards his camp. The animal is heavy and even though the distance is short, Chris feels breathless when he’s done. Peter circles the fire and, to Chris’ surprise, approaches the camp, sitting beside the deer and looking up at Chris, his tail wagging a few times. Chris chuckles. He kind of has the feeling the wolf wants to brag. “Well done,” he says, and Peter’s tail wags faster. “That’s going to feed me for days.”
He pulls out his knife to get to work, while Peter lays down and observes him, throwing glances at the fire from time to time, his ears twitching at each crack of a branch. But he’s staying. And he’s close. Chris is glad. He starts to skin the deer and discovers the wounds at the neck, where Peter must have killed it. The teeth marks are deep, almost going to the bone. He shortly imagines how fast a human neck would give way under these teeth.
It takes a long while until he can roast some meat over the fire. Peter gnaws at one of the deer’s leg lazily, obviously not that hungry, which means, he mainly thought of Chris when he hunted. Working on the animal warmed Chris up. Still, when it starts to snow again, he groans and pulls his jacket around his body tighter. “You know, I kind of wish, you could have shifted in summer,” he murmurs. Peter just rumbles.
A few cold moments pass, while the fire crackles and an owl calls out in the distance. Eventually, Peter moves and gets up, slowly walking over to Chris. Chris is surprised when the wolf sniffs at his shoes, but he doesn’t move, just waiting what will happen. After a moment, Peter huffs and lays down again, putting his massive head on Chris’ thigh and closing his eyes with a heavy sigh. Chris tries to resist the urge, but he can’t help himself. He puts a hand on Peter’s head and rubs between his ears carefully. The wolf barely even flinches. Feeling encouraged, Chris continues, stroking through the thick fur, freeing it from burs. He could get used to this, he thinks. But at the same time, he still wonders if Peter will ever change back to human again.
Time passes like it always does and they fall into a rhythm.
Chris spends most of the days and some nights in the forest with Peter. He reports back to Laura and Derek, reassuring them that their uncle is fine. Almost too fine sometimes, he thinks amused, when he watches Peter rolling around in snow and dirt or sneaking up on a poor mouse and chasing it, his tail wagging wildly.
On every second weekend, Chris spends all his time with Allison. His little girl … She makes his world warmer and brighter. She asks him if he will come home, and his heart clenches. It clenches when he remembers her age and that his family won’t hesitate to make a hunter out of her, just like they did with Chris. He can’t let that happen. He tries to push the worries aside when he’s with her. He wants to enjoy it.
When he returns to the forest after these weekends, it takes him ages to find Peter. The wolf doesn’t spare him a second glance and Chris rolls his eyes, telling him to stop being jealous.
Sometimes, Chris meets with Noah for a cup of coffee, always feeling bad about not being able to tell the Sheriff, that the man they buried not that long ago, is in fact alive. He wonders what they are going to do if Peter decides to shift back, now that there’s a gravestone with his name. He probably will need a new identity. But right now, it doesn’t seem like Peter has any intentions to change anything, even though Chris sometimes talks to him about his niece and nephew. Sometimes, Chris asks himself if Peter would even be able to shift back by himself.
Time passes and the days get warmer, to Chris’ great relief.
Spring makes the snow melt and life reawakens in the forest. Peter starts to behave a bit strange. He paces restlessly, growling and snapping at everything that moves, and Chris wonders about it for quite a while, until he realizes with a shock that it’s probably because of the rut. Then he panicks briefly, wondering if Peter will run off, trying to find a mate somewhere. He doesn’t, thankfully. Instead, he brings Chris dead rabbits, wolf-grinning at Chris' praises.
In summer, something remarkable happens.
On a Sunday, Vic stands in front of Chris’ house, Allison in her arms. “Take her,” she says when they’re inside, something in her voice breaking like he has never experienced it before. “Why now?” He asks, his heart pounding.
Vic looks over at Ally, who is sitting at the kitchen table, completely focused on the image she’s painting, and sighs, running a hand through her short hair. “Gerard called. He’s eager to start her … her training. She's still so young. Chris, after everything you told me, after everything I saw and heard, I can’t stand the thought of him getting his hands on her. I cut him off and I bet he's going to try to find us. She’s safer with you. I’m going back to France. To my own family.”
Chris frowns. “You’re sure?”
She nods curtly. A hint of pain appears in her eyes. “Yes. You’re better with her than I could ever be, anyway. You know me, Chris.”
Chris shakes his head and lays a hand on her shoulder, feeling the need to comfort her. Even after everything that happened, he wouldn't ever be able to hate Victoria. “She loves you too, Vic.”
She nods curtly and sighs. “I’m not going to be gone completely. I’m still going to call and visit, if you allow it.”
“Of course.”
Vic looks at him calmly, her eyes searching his face. “Thank you, Chris. I’m aware you were never really happy with what we had. I wasn’t happy too. But I could always count on you. I hope it was the same for you. Apart from what happened with the Hales. I sometimes wish I could have gotten over my feelings and told you. It would have been the right thing to do. I'm sorry.”
She doesn’t say much more. She says goodbye to her daughter and leaves fast, probably before she can change her mind. Chris looks at Allison and feels only joy, but also a bit wistfulness. Oh, how fast things can change.
“I can no longer be here all the time,” Chris tells Peter a little while later. “I have my daughter now. I have to take care of her. And I can’t bring her here, to you.”
Peter glances up at him from where he’s laying over Chris’ feet, like he wants to say, “Why not?”
Chris sighs and strokes through the wolf’s fur. “Don’t you think you could change back to human? Things would be so much easier, you know? We could talk. I miss your voice.”
Peter huffs and gets up, shaking his fur. He walks away without a glance back, drinking at the nearby stream and then walking through it, disappearing in the woods again. Chris looks after him, chewing on his lower lip. He runs his hand through the grass and frowns at how dry it is.
Everything is dry only a little while later, when the sun burns from the sky mercilessly. Chris walks through the forest barefooted and without a shirt. Peter’s fur gets shorter. He’s still panting all the time, lapping at the little rest of liquid in the stream. Chris knows he has to walk greater distances now to find proper water, so he always brings a few bottles with him, letting Peter drink out of them.
Everything is dry and brittle, and then, it’s wildfire season.
To Chris’ immense relief, they are spared from a fire for a long time. He almost thinks they are going to pass the summer without one, but then, on a weekend, the reports about an approaching fire come in. It’s huge. Chris watches the news and his throat feels tight, when he sees the orange flames licking up the dry fir trees. Fuck.
The same day, he searches for Peter futilely.
The wind doesn’t change direction and they start to be able to sense the fires as they come closer. The sky is milky. The air feels rough in Chris’ lungs. His heart sinks. He hurries through the forest, calling Peter’s name a few times, without a result. He even howls a few times, hoping his voice carries wide.
He almost loses hope, when, finally, Peter breaks out between the trees, approaching him fast, his ears erect and his tail between his legs. He whines and when he comes closer, Chris can see the white of his eyes. Chris crouches down and opens his arms, almost falling backwards when the wolf presses against him, nuzzling his neck. Chris hugs him. “Hey, you’re alright. It’s alright. That fire won’t hurt you.” I won’t let it.
Chris can feel Peter trembling. He breathes in deeply and frowns at the ashen taste in his mouth. The fires are still coming closer … He makes a fast decision. “Come on,” he tells Peter. “Come home with me.”
Peter looks at him and nervously licks his nose, but when Chris goes back to his car, the wolf follows. He opens the backdoor for Peter and he jumps in without hesitation, curling up on the leather seats. Chris starts the car. If he has to, he’s going to take Allison and Peter to the coast, far away from the fire. This is different from his little campfires Peter got used to. This he can’t control.
He takes Peter home, and when the wolf follows him into the house, his body tense and head lowered, Allison gasps and stares. “Dad, where did you find that dog? He looks like a wolf,” she says in awe. Her babysitter frowns at Peter, especially when the wolf puts his paws on a chair and jumps on it, sitting there like a human. Allison laughs. “Uh,” Chris scratches his neck. “I found him in the forest. Guess he ran from the fires. He was quite scared.” Peter shoots him an offended look. Allison hums. “I can get being scared of the fire. It's scary,” she says and carefully reaches out. Chris involuntarily tenses when her little hand gets so close to Peter’s strong jaw, but the wolf only rubs his cheek against it, making a rumbling noise in the back of his throat. Allison laughs again and Chris feels a bit guilty for being so concerned. But well. It's his daughter. It isn't easy to forget what a wolf's teeth can do.
The babysitter, an elderly woman, shakes her head. “You shouldn't touch him, Allison. Maybe he’s got rabies. He looks feral.”
Peter growls at her and Chris tenses again, but then Allison says to the babysitter, “Don’t insult him. He just needs a bath.”
Peter doesn’t growl at Allison. Instead, he gives her a toothy wolf grin and bumps his head against her hand again, like an oversized cat. Chris arches his brows. The babysitter purses her lips, but shrugs, preparing to leave. She makes a big circle around Peter, who gives her a last growl and Chris shakes his head. Allison however, seems to be absolutely in love with the wolf. “What’s your name?” She asks him, leaning over the table and holding his huge head in both her small hands. He lets her. “Peter,” Chris says from where he’s standing in the kitchen, making some sandwiches. “Peter. Like in Peter And The Wolf,” she says and squeals when she gets a wet wolf kiss. “Ew. You stink, Peter.” The wolf huffs.
When it gets dark outside, Chris can see the flicker of flames in the distance. He closes the curtains and hopes the wind will change direction this night. Or that they get one of the carefully announced rain storms.
Peter follows Allison everywhere. He sits in the bathroom while she is brushing her teeth, looking up at her attentively. “Are we going to keep him?” Allison asks when Chris puts her into bed, her eyes pleading. Chris bites back a laugh when Peter pushes the door open with his head and his claws click on the wooden floor. He nuzzles and licks Allison’s hand. She giggles. “Maybe,” Chris says and Allison beams. “But he’s going to need a collar,” she says sternly and Chris thinks he can see a hint of alarm and horror in Peter’s softened eyes.
“Goodnight, little monkey,” Chris says and gives Allison a kiss on her forehead. “Come on,” he tells Peter and leaves the bedroom, followed by the wolf. He leads him into his own bedroom, shaking his head and sighing. “What am I going to do with you? I can hardly put you on a leash, right?” Peter huffs and glares, baring his teeth a little. Chris smiles weakly. “Don’t worry. We’re going to find a solution, until these fires stop. I’m going to keep you safe.” He starts to strip and puts on a shirt and sweatpants for the night.
Meanwhile, Peter walks to the bed, eyeing it for a moment. He jumps on it and turns on the spot a few times, before curling up in the middle and laying his head on his paws. Chris’ looks at him and arches his eyebrows. “Where am I supposed to sleep now?” He asks. Peter glances at him and his shoulders pull up in the version of a wolf shrug. Chris snorts. He sits on the bed, pushing at Peter. “Come on. Give me some space.” The wolf reluctantly shifts. Chris lays down and ends up with his head close to Peter’s. He grimaces. “I should brush your teeth. Smells like something died in your mouth. And Allison is right. You totally need that bath.”
Peter grumbles. Chris sighs and looks up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering how he ended up in this situation. Eventually, he falls asleep, thinking he senses a cold snout on his skin for a moment, giving him the imitation of a goodnight kiss.
Everyone loves Chris’ “dog”.
Thankfully, Peter plays along most of the time, obviously not too keen on returning to the forest as long as wildfire season is going on.
But while Peter lets Allison and her friends pet him, even allows them to fed him treats, Chris doesn’t dare to put a collar on him, so he tells Peter to stay in the house and the garden, hoping the wolf won’t start running around in the neighbourhood. He doesn’t, thankfully. Peter is too smart to catch attention and let someone put him into some animal shelter.
Chris is surprised about how close Peter stays to Allison, looking at her like she is the moon. But then, he thinks maybe she reminds him of the kids he was looking after before the fire. When he allows Allison to sleep with her head on his back, Chris cocks an eyebrow and says, "You act all dangerous, but basically you're just a big softie with sharp teeth, aren't you." Peter only chuffs and closes his eyes.
On a weekend, when the news tell them that the fires won’t be any danger anymore, Chris does something he has been avoiding because he isn’t sure how Peter would react. He invites Derek and Laura over.
Peter is laying in the garden when they arrive, holding his face up into the sun. His ears twitch and he sniffs the air when they approach, turning his head, but not standing up.
Derek and Laura stare, their stance unsure. “That’s really him?” Derek asks, his eyes wide.
Chris nods. “Call him,” he suggests, eager to see the wolf’s reaction. “But not by his full name.”
Derek takes a deep breath. “Hello Uncle Peter,” he says, quietly but of course still perfectly audible for a wolf. Peter’s ear turns into Derek’s direction. He stares, but still doesn’t move. “It’s good to see you, Uncle Peter,” Laura says, a bit louder than her brother. She gets the same reaction. The twitch of an ear and a firm look.
“Flash your eyes at him,” Chris says.
Laura complies. Her eyes turn crimson. Peter looks at her and then, for a volatile moment, his eyes flash bright blue. Laura exhales shakily. She still hesitates, but when she takes a step towards Peter, he finally gets up, shaking his fur and slowly walking over to her, licking her jaw when she crouches down and rubbing against her, scent-marking her. Laura buries her face into his fur for a moment, closing her eyes.
Chris and Derek watch the scene silently.
“He’s staying here?” Derek eventually asks, his eyes glued to the wolf.
“Yeah. I thought he would return to the forest when the fires are gone, but so far, he doesn’t seem too eager to leave,” Chris says, grinning weakly. “If he shifts back, I’m going to have a horrible lot of explaining to do. My daughter adores her, uh, wolfy dog.”
Derek laughs. It's such a sudden and unfamiliar noise, it makes Chris smile and Laura looking back over her shoulder. Peter nudges her cheek.
A few more weeks pass.
By now, Peter’s presence in the house and garden is normal. Familiar. One evening, when Chris is reading in bed, Peter joins him. He curls up and puts his head on Chris’ stomach with a sigh.
Chris smiles and scratches between Peter’s ears. “You know, it’s alright if you stay like this. No one is going to be angry. I mean … I miss talking to you. There’s a lot I would tell you. I sometimes remember the good times. When we were young and still thought we could take on the world. The world and our families. Maybe we should have. I know Talia never really liked what you had with me, but she would have accepted it. Not like Gerard.” He sighs heavily. “So many mistakes. So many things I did just because I was afraid. I never wanted to hurt you. But I did. And I’m sorry. I don’t dare to ask for another chance. I don’t deserve it. I know that.” That’s true. He knows. That doesn’t keep it from hurting. Peter looks up at him with attentive eyes. Chris hesitates, then he says softly, “When I went to talk to Derek, he said you were waiting for me. That you refused to find a mate. See, I wish I could talk to you about that. Because, if you were really waiting, I think I did the same damn thing. I was waiting too. Only, different.” He sighs. “Oh I don’t know. I’m dead tired …” He closes his eyes and feels the exhaustion reaching for him. “Goodnight, Peter,” he whispers. Sleep comes quick. It’s dreamless.
In the morning, something feels different.
Chris doesn’t really comprehend the feeling first. He rises up from sleep slowly, and his hand reaches for Peter, reaches for the wolf usually sleeping curled up beside him, only, he doesn’t find fur, he finds skin. He frowns and opens his eyes, blinking into the early sunlight. When they finally focus, his eyes widen in surprise.
Peter is still curled up beside him, only, he’s not a wolf anymore. He’s very human and naked, his hair ruffled and his eyes still closed in sleep. Chris stares, not really sure if he’s dreaming or not. After a while of wondering, he slowly reaches out to run his hand through Peter’s soft hair. Peter stirs and opens his eyes. He makes a confused noise and blinks. “Hey,” Chris says softly.
Peter looks up at him and frowns. He raises a hand to touch his own face and grimaces slightly, when he strokes over skin, stubble and scars. “Chris,” he says, his voice hoarse from disuse.
They stare at each other and time seems to stand still. Chris got so used to seeing Peter as a wolf, it feels surreal to see him like this, to see the man he knows and yet is so different from the boy he once aggressively kissed in a locker room. Peter eventually sighs heavily and closes his eyes again. Chris clears his throat. “Did you want to shift back?”
Peter hesitates. “Not all of me,” he finally admits, opening his eyes again. “A part of me wanted to stay the wolf forever. I don’t know if I would be able to do the full shift again. It was good. It was good to be the wolf, to not be ... like this. I’m damaged, Chris. I’m damaged and I don’t know if I can put myself together again.” His voice sounds choked now. He looks like he wants to say more, but can't.
Chris reaches out again to touch Peter’s cheek. The scarred one. Peter flinches, but he allows the touch, even carefully leaning into it. Chris looks into blue eyes and they are filled with so much pain, he can feel it as an echo inside himself. “You don’t have to set yourself together alone,” he says. “I’m with you. Like I was for the last months. And Laura. Derek. Noah. My daughter who learned to love your wolf form and now has to learn about your human form. You’re here and I know it’s going to be tough, there is going to be pain and setbacks and sometimes it's going to feel like you can't do it, but you have already gone such a long way, and now you decided to go it further. It’s going to be alright.”
Peter looks at him and nods slowly. “Thank you,” he says quietly, his voice still hoarse and Chris decides to get some water. But when he sits up, Peter’s voice holds him back before he can get up. “I was. I was waiting for you,” he says barely audible. Chris’ breath falters. He looks back at Peter, who stares at him, his eyes filling with careful hope. Chris nods and reaches out to cup Peter’s cheek. “Me too. I was waiting too,” he says and closes the gap between them to kiss Peter gently.
“Mate,” Peter whispers when they part, pressing his face into the crook of Chris' neck. It’s only one word, but it seems to comprise a world. A very new world. Chris nods. “Your mate," he agrees.
Their world.