Petopher Oneshots
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“You think I’m dating someone,” Chris said slowly, “because she touched my elbow.”
Peter threw up his hands. “And you let her! That’s basically second base for you!”
Chris blinked, deadpan. “What’s first base? Prolonged eye contact?”
Peter narrowed his eyes. “Don’t be cute.”
“I’m not,” Chris said, stepping closer again. “But I am confused. Because for someone who claims not to care, you’ve practically declared war on a grad student I once shared a Google Doc with.”
Or -- Let's not pretend I work on these summaries
Series
- Part 1 of Petopher Oneshots
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Chris clears his throat. “There were contributing factors—”
Peter leans in. “Like sabotage.”
Chris turns to him, incredulous. “You smiled when it exploded.”
“I’m photogenic under pressure.”
Or the one where I am still not doing my WIPs
Series
- Part 2 of Petopher Oneshots
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And then—
“…Peter.”
Spoken low. Almost like a breath.
Peter froze.
Not because it was his name. But because of the way it sounded—gritted, quiet, like the shape of it caught on the edge of something that meant.
Not Hale. Not “you bastard.” Not the usual contempt he wielded like a shield. Just Peter.
Intimate.
Heavy.
Peter didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched.
Series
- Part 3 of Petopher Oneshots
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“Don’t,” Chris growled, breath close enough to stir the front of Peter’s shirt.
Peter didn’t lean away. Didn’t challenge.
“Oh,” he said, like a revelation.
Chris’s jaw ticked. “I have never wanted to shoot a sheriff before.”
>> this one excerpt of the story I won't write, as Chris is way out of his usual alignment.
Series
- Part 4 of Petopher Oneshots
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“Wrong number,” he said, the words tight, clipped off before they could waver.
There was a pause, a faint crackle of static in the line, and then the voice came back, softer, edged with something that felt like it had been waiting five years to be heard.
“Right voice.”
Series
- Part 5 of Petopher Oneshots