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When had he become a suburban fixture? When had these people stopped being afraid of him and instead came to ask his advice on things like how to propose to their child bride? He pulled back the curtain and sighed at his hatchback in the driveway. How far the mighty had fallen.
He made a face before spinning back around. Scott was sitting on Peter’s couch, leaned forward with elbows on knees and hands clasped loosely between them. How in God’s name had this child made it to his mid-30s?
“So…” Scott drew out.
“Why are you asking me? Shouldn’t this be Argent’s burden?”
Scott’s laugh bordered on hysterical. “Because I need you to help me figure out how to do this in a way that will keep Chris from killing me. He’s been…touchy,”
“Well, I can’t imagine why.” He took pity on Scott and poured the both of them a tumbler of scotch. “It’s not like you’re a 35 year old man wanting to marry a 19 year old that was dead for almost 20 years, right? A 19 year old that’s missed an entire generation of cultural and political change and will now be trading the opportunity to freely figure out who they are as an adult for a lifelong commitment to her high school boyfriend? While parenting a teenager barely three years younger than her? It’s not like either of you are attempting that .
Scott’s cold glare was a reminder that he actually did manage to survive to adulthood when so many of his peers did not. Peter holds a sip of scotch in the back of his mouth and purposely does not think of Derek.
“You know it’s not that simple.”
Peter conceded. “I do. And somewhere in his overprotective, just got his one decent family member back from the dead brain, I’m sure Argent does as well.”
“And that’s why I came to you. You and Chris get each other. You’ll know how I can make this right for him. Because I can promise it won’t be by walking away from Allison. That’s not happening.”
Peter respected that level of obsession. But the rest - “All the blows to the head have finally come to fruition. You should talk to your mother if you want that kind of understanding. They slept together for years.”
Scott shook his head and fixed Peter with a look that made his skin crawl. “Chris stabbed you with wolfsbane and you just bitched and moaned while he tossed you the antidote and mom patched you up. The two of you went with the parents’ club to hockey. Mom said you shared nachos . Neither of you even try to sell the blood feud anymore.”
Peter’s lips tingled as the ghost of Chris’ one, angry, never to be spoken of ever, kiss made an unwelcome appearance. He drained the remainder of his drink to let the bitterness of the scotch wash it away before speaking. “You have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Scott’s mouth twisted wryly. “It’s almost like it’s not as simple as people think.”
“Touché, McCall.” Peter slouched into the armchair across from Scott. “Your delusions aside, you have to remember that Argent, more than anything, wants his child to be safe and happy. He wants almost everyone to be safe and happy. Truly one of his most concerning flaws.”
“Questioning your understanding of the word ‘flaw’.”
Peter ignored him. “So how do you expect him to stand aside as you take that happiness from Allison? As she loses the chance to discover who she is as an adult? To explore this new world she woke up in? To travel and grow and change?”
“I don’t want to take that away! I want to support that! I can’t wait to see her change and age and explore and finally figure out she doesn’t have to use the search bar to find something on the Internet! I just want to be beside her as it happens!”
“Ah,” Peter looked at Scott meaningfully. “Then perhaps start by telling Christopher that.”
Scott stilled and sat up. “Holy shit, you’re right.”
“Usually am.”
“Seriously, though. Thank you.”
He was being serious. “Thank me when I’ve actually done something.”
Eli chose that moment to wander into the room, phone in hand and earbud in one ear. He caught Scott’s eye and Scott gave what he probably thought was a subtle nod. Eli pulled the earbud out and cradled it in the palm of his hand.
“Uncle Peter, can I stay the weekend? We’re doing a family history project in ELA and I have some questions about dad.”
Peter inhaled sharply. “Of course. We can order chinese. It was Derek’s favorite when he was your age.”
“Cool.” Eli returned the earbud to his ear and wandered back out.
Peter had less grace than Scott. “Thank you,” he forced out, his voice rusty around the words.
Scott smirked. “Thank me when I’ve actually done something.”
*****
He was showing Scott the door when his phone sounded the sharp ding of a text coming through. Malia.
<Jordan got called into work and I’m just finishing my meeting in SF. Can you watch Dyson?>
He made a face and walked into the kitchen to see Eli was scrolling through the delivery menu. “Try the walnut shrimp.”
Peter’s thumbs flew across the phone’s touchscreen. < Still not forgiving you for naming my grandchild after a vacuum cleaner. But yes.>
Should he buy a carseat to keep at the house? Toys? Fuck.
He pulled up his contacts and took a deep breath before typing again.
<What the hell do I need for an infant?>
It was fine, he assured himself. Fine . This was a matter of desperation.
Argent texted back almost immediately. < On my way.>