Chapter Text
It started half a year ago.
~
Chris remains aware of his surroundings at all times. Being a hunter, being an Argent, forces him to be focused. Vigilant. Cautious. So, when he spots Peter Hale at a downtown bar, he notices. Of course he does. It’s hard to miss the wolf’s broad shoulders and designer jacket.
On one hand, he wants to turn around and leave to find a new bar. On the other, this is the bar he has been returning to on the anniversary of his wife and daughter’s death... on the night of his father’s death.
Which was tonight.
He wants to drink, to toast the end of a tyrannical man’s reign, to smile at the few rare memories he has of his father that are decent. Good. A complete juxtaposition of what he really was.
What he trained Chris to be.
And even if he chose to leave, that would leave a bitter taste of defeat in his mouth. Avoiding Peter Hale? He’s better than this.
So, he makes his way to the bar. He mentally prepares himself for the swarmy attitude, the cocky smirk and cutting words. And just as he’s about to grab a seat, he notices what’s on Peter’s screen.
A women with high cheekbones and black hair, laughing at the camera and holding an annoyed looking young man with a blurry, soon-to-be hug. It looks like a graduation photo of sorts, specifically with the clothing the man was wearing and the crowds around them.
Blue eyes. Dark brown hair. A familiar scowl. He recognizes the boy as Peter.
That woman must be his mother. Chris thought, frozen in place. She looks a little young to be his mother.
He considers leaving again. It feels as though he’s intruding on a special moment; on something that’s suppose to be intimate.
But, Chris is not a man of mercy and he doesn’t like Peter enough to extend it. He sits down one chair away from the wolf and waits patiently for the bartender to take his order. He asks for an Old Fashioned and keeps his eyes firmly locked onto the football game on the overhead screens.
Peter, of course, cannot resist pestering him. “Oh, fancy seeing you here.”
“I didn’t come here to chat.”
“No one goes to bars to chat.” Peter spit, as if it was sour on his tongue. “Least of all men like you.”
Chris gritted his teeth, looking away begrudgingly from the game to stare daggers.
Peter stared back at him through the sides of his eyes, then shrugged and polished off his own drink. “Am I wrong?”
No. He was not wrong. But, Chris hates how in control Peter is right now. So he reaches for what he thinks will make him lose that edge.
“So, you came here to look at pictures of your mother on your phone?” He challenged, “The bar is the ideal spot to browse your photo library?”
Peter huffed, smiling to himself like Chris had said something funny. As he laughed, the glimmer and shine of orange-gold lights flitted across his face, the reflection of warm-tone lights complimenting the cool blue of his eyes. “Sister. Nice guess, though.”
Chris’s shoulders squared, fisting his drink as the bartender slid it to him.
The woman in the picture was Talia Hale.
“When did you graduate?” He found himself asking, since Peter now knows he saw the photo as context.
“Are you trying to figure out my age?” Peter crossed his arms on the counter, nose wrinkled in distaste. “During the era of high school when the sport men wanted to play was basketball and not whatever lacrosse is.”
Chris bristled at his tone, feeling the need to be contrarian. “I like watching lacrosse.”
“Forgive me if I say I’m unsurprised.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Peter smirks. He stands up, sets a bill on the counter, and takes his leave.
Chris doesn’t chase him, doesn’t call after him or demand an answer. He just rolls his eyes and takes a gulp of his watery old fashioned and tries to forget ever seeing that pretentious asshole.
.,.,.,.
Two is a coincidence. Chris does not believe in coincidences.
He’s buying more wolfsbane, needs it for this new pack threatening Beacon Hills. Nothing like the Alpha Pack, thank god, but still annoying all-the-same. Talking about harnessing the power of the moon, taking Scott’s spark through his first beta, yada yada. At this point, it’s all apart of routine.
Or, it was.
Seeing Peter at the same small shop was annoying, but not surprising. The shop had plenty of books and artifacts a sleaze like him would want to hoard for future bargaining chips. What did surprise Chris was seeing the— tightly packed —bundle of raw wolfsbane flowers in his hands.
It startles him into speaking. “What are you doing with that?”
“A women can’t reveal her beauty routine without a price.” Peter chirps back, annoying and vague all at once. “A simple compliment will due.”
He sneers, “Planning to off yourself?”
“Couldn’t even pretend to compliment my hair? Or my shoes? They’re expensive. There’s only twenty of these in the world, you know.”
“Why are you buying poison?”
Peter sighs, as if Chris is the one being difficult. “A little side-project, if you must know. Don’t worry, nothing should impact you or your little rag-tag team of misfits... and Stiles.”
Once again, Chris has no clue why he feels the need to continue a conversation with this freak. “Did you separate Stiles from them because he’s human?”
Peter gave him a look of disgust, apparently affronted by his question. “No. It’s because he’s interesting.”
Note to self, Chris thought as he watched Peter pay for his bundle of wolfsbane, keep an eye on Stiles when Peter is around.
“See you around.” Peter tries to breeze by Chris, but he grabs his arm before he can saunter off. He steps closer, making sure he’s in the werewolf’s face so that their noses are almost touching.
Chris speaks quietly, squeezing down on Peter’s arm as each second passes between them. “If you’re planning anything against those kids, you drop it right now.”
Peter’s eyes, usually a clear blue, were stormy — clouded with thoughts or trying to think his way out of this confrontation. “So, if I’m planning against someone else, it’s okay?”
“I’m not in the mood, Hale.”
“Relax.” Peter rolls his eyes, but that distant look doesn’t shake off. “Nothing is going to happen to them or any other unwilling party. May I go now, Christopher? Or, do you plan to make an even bigger scene?”
Chris glances around — a few others in the store hurry to look away. He glances at his grip on Peter’s arm and lets go. Just as he was about to threaten more, the wolf was already out the door.
There, then gone without a word. Almost as if he was fleeing the scene.
Peter Hale doesn’t flee. He thinks, something like concern making his skin crawl. He bides his time.
... Then why did it feel so different this time?
.,.,.,.
Third is a pattern.
The pack was still around — harnessing the power of the moon didn’t go too well considering they misjudged the phases of said moon. But, they kidnapped Scott. It took days before anyone could figure out where he was, and even longer to find out how to save him.
At least, until Peter walked into the McCall family home and declared himself of use.
Melissa had been against it— duh— but Stiles admitted that he contacted Peter for help. Things seemed to work out annoyingly well after Peter inserted himself into the mix — all the way to Scott being saved from a moonlight-withdrawal induced coma.
Peter played doctor where Melissa couldn’t — then stepped aside with her to have a few words. Chris tried to listen in, but the conversation was too hush and finished before he could so much as step closer to the hallway. Peter was gone, and Melissa was standing still with her eyes locked on where he left down the staircase.
“What did he say? Did he threaten you?”
“No.” Melissa’s eyebrows furrowed and she looked at him with an odd sort of concern, “But, that was...”
Chris frowned.
“He just told me to make sure Scott sits in the moonlight every day for a few weeks, then left. That’s strange, right?”
He was down the stairs faster than Melissa could finish her sentence but, by the time he stepped outside, Peter was gone and there was zero explanation to be had for his timely sense of morality or care.
What the hell is he planning?
Derek shares his thoughts and concerns. They spoke for a while about it, trying to figure out if this was Peter testing the waters about rejoining through Scott’s good grace. The kid is a bleeding heart — full of good where most couldn’t even dream it. And already, McCall is talking about how Peter must have turned a new leaf and become reformed.
“I’m not sold on that.” Derek said, “It’s not like him to do things without expecting something in return.”
“Did Stiles promise him anything?” He asked. It would not be unlike Stilinski to do anything for his friends.
But Derek shook his head. “No. He showed me the texts. Peter just... showed up.”
“Did you ask him why he helped?”
The young man’s shoulders tensed for a moment before he leveled Chris with a too-collected look, “We don’t talk like that.”
Then why the hell did he show up? Chris wonders, fidgeting with a bullet in his palm. What is he planning?
.,.,.,.
He tries a different approach.
He began to visit the bar more frequently — hoping that one night, he’ll find Peter there. And, surprisingly, he does.
Peter’s still staring at his phone, but this time the picture is different. It’s his younger self, a pre-teen girl, and a baby. Chris doesn’t know enough about the Hale family to know who the other two are, but he recognizes Peter’s younger self.
He also recognizes that the photo on his phone looks like it was originally a polaroid picture with burnt edges, which means someone took a digital picture to preserve it.
“What are you reminiscing about this time?” He asks, sitting right next to Peter.
It brings Chris a warm pleasure to see Peter lean away from him.
“Stalking me?” The wolf raises an eyebrow before clicking his phone off and setting it screen-side down. “It’s me and my nieces, nosey.”
He orders his drink — an Old Fashioned — and continues his rapport building, “When was that taken?”
“Is this another attempt to find out how old I am?”
“No, asshole.” Chris glares before he can stop himself, “I’m trying to learn about you.”
Peter rolls his eyes and rests his arms on the bar table, “What a boring subject to open with... ask about my times in Europe, or which concerts I attended in high school.”
“I’ll ask about those when I catch you looking at pictures of them.”
“Did you need something?” Peter levels him with a sort of look. The smirk is there, but it feels more like a snarl than anything.
He cuts to the chase, “Why did you help Scott?”
“Because Stiles asked me to.”
“Bullshit.”
“Because I owe the brat a favor.” Peter scoffs, “He pointed me in the direction of that little wolfsbane shop, so I owed him one. He owes me two, for how much work it was getting Scott free.”
This makes sense, but it doesn’t satisfy Chris’s instinct that there is something more going on.
“What are you planning?” He asks.
“I told you, nothing is going to happen to the kids, or Derek, or you—”
“Then who is it going to happen to?”
Peter’s smirk is back, much more real but still equally as dangerous. “Me, of course.”
Chris’s hand jerks to where his gun is, “If you become an alpha again, Peter, I will not hesitate to put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Save your bullets.” Hale waves his hand, as if the threat was a mere fly in his general area, “No form of alpha-ism comes without a true alpha spark, or killing another alpha. And, if you’ve noticed, there are no available alphas around me to kill.”
“Already cutting yourself out of the true alpha option?” He cant help but taunt.
The look Peter gives him is priceless. It makes him fight back a laugh. But, the moment was short-lived as his Old Fashioned was swiped from his hands and gulped down in a matter of a second.
“This was fun.” He said, “Let’s see if you follow me to the next bar I frequent. Seems this one has a pest problem.”
And while the bartender muttered frantically about how there was definitely not a pest issue, sir, please do not mind him, Chris watched Peter walk out of the bar.
He ordered a second drink.
It gets addicting, catching Peter off guard like this. It happens every few weeks, sometimes twice a week, where Chris will catch him looking at a picture on his phone. All of them predating the fire.
Pictures of vacations, of domestic moments between family, snapshots of life. All of them were taken by somebody else, always either from a distance or blurry with motion. Either way, he has caught Peter staring at them. Once, he tested how long the wolf would stare at his screen without interruption... nearly forty minutes, and that was only cut short due to Chris stepping in out of impatience.
It’s startling humanizing to see someone like Peter Hale doing this.
And each time Chris intercepts, he brings it up. He finds out Peter had a close relationship with his own uncle — not through words, but by seeing the photos of them together — and what Derek looked like as he was growing up. He never sees any photos of Peter with his parents and the wolf changes the subject every time Chris asks.
Seeing glimpses of Peter like this makes Chris feel... strange. Clearly, he’s going through some sort of existential crisis regarding his past, but beyond that Chris feels a sense of familiarity with Peter that is so uncomfortable it’s impossible to ignore.
So, when he stops seeing Peter at the bar for weeks on end, he notices. It’s been half a year since he and Peter had begun this back and forth — practically a routine for them, by this point. He checks around, even asks Scott if he knows anything, but there’s no information. He’s just... gone.
Derek graciously offers to go with him to Peter’s apartment, but he asks for the address instead and says he’ll go alone.
And he does.
He knocks once, twice, then three times and waits. He can’t hear past the front door, but he has a feeling Peter is home because both of his cars are parked outside.
Chris waits a few more minutes before knocking again.
The door opens, with Peter blocking the entry in. “You’ve got the wrong add— Oh. Hello, Christopher. Scott’s not kidnapped again, is he?”
“No. He’s not.” Chris resists the urge to growl, even if he’s irritated that Peter is treating this all so casually. “Get wrong addresses often?”
Peter’s eyes darken, “The invention of food delivery apps was a mistake.”
“I’m surprised you don’t just take the food and leave it at that.”
“I tried that once, but I was swiftly given my due karma with their extra-mushroom toppings.” The wolf shuddered in disgust before glancing around Chris’s shoulder and then tipping his head at him, listening with his keen supernatural hearing. “Why are you here alone?”
“Because I can handle you just fine alone.”
“Yes, but no. What is it?”
Chris realized he hadn’t exactly came up with an excuse to be here. He fumbled for a half a second, then collected himself. “Checking in on you.”
Peter gave him a look of confusion and exasperation, “Checking in on me?”
“You’ve been avoiding people.”
“I’ve been avoiding people? Please, Chris, just ask why I’m not going to the bar instead of making it seem like this big conspiracy.”
He can feel a flush coming to his cheeks. “It’s not?”
Peter stares for a little bit, then smiles with a sort of pleasure that brings warmth and annoyance to Chris’s chest. “Just a little, but I wasn’t lying when I said it would only effect me.”
“And what exactly is going to effect you?”
“Please, Christopher, you’ll hardly notice or care.” Peter shrugs his shoulders, avoiding the question as if it was a senseless one to begin with. “Find a new bar buddy. One you can actually get drunk with.”
“This is weird, you know that right?” He asks, “You’re acting weird.”
“You should enjoy that!” Peter chirps, moving to close the door, “Plenty more weird to come, I think.”
Chris stared at the front door as it closed before sighing and making his way back to his vehicle. He passes by a delivery boy on his way down the stairs and turns his head to see which door the boy knocks on.
When he sees its the same front door that was just shut on him, Chris turns away with a smile.
He’s not letting this go, either.