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“Was the part of student loans and debt enough? I thought it lacked something, especially about shifter kids.”
“It was perfect, Peter, really. State of the Union quality stuff.”
“Sarcasm is not appreciated right now. We may have won reelection, but speeches still matter. This was him rolling out his plan to help millions of people, to help the young voters that helped us get elected.”
“I never knew you were so into helping.”
“More like winning. I want do not want to lose another policy battle with the Republicans.”
Peter and Stiles’ quick banter continued as they walked through the hallway of the Rosslyn convention hall. President Scott McCall had just delivered his speech to a room full of seven thousand people, mainly millennials about his plan to make college more affordable and to give debt relief. Whenever there was a big policy shift or announcement, Peter was on edge. He worked so hard on this speech for weeks, consulting with Scott and many others, but he never knew how well the speech was going to be received until the President was up on that podium and the crowd applauses.
Every rational part of Peter told him that he had nothing to worry about, the crowd ate it up and the Lydia, their Press Secretary, was handling the reporters with the expertise she had in spades.
“We’re going to win this, Peter. We’ll have the votes in Congress and the support of the people. Your speech was great. You and Liam did a fantastic job as always. You won’t disappoint the shifters.” Stiles knew him long enough to know that anything shifter-related in policies meant a lot to Peter. He was determined to do as much as he could for his kind while he had the power. The young Chief of Staff always had the backs of the staff.
“Liam wrote all the bad parts, like that joke in the beginning.” Peter muttered, feeling the need to shift the blame on the Deputy of the Communications Department, his underling. He liked the kid, but he was sometimes too idealistic for Peter’s tastes. Being constantly upbeat and positive grated on his nerves. It’s why Peter liked Stiles, who was an awful cynic at times, because he knew when to be positive and when to scale it back.
Stiles laughed, “I liked that joke.”
They were now outside, crowds of people have gathered in hopes of seeing the President who was several feet ahead of them flanked by secret service.
“You would.”
“It was funny! “People say I’m-“
Stiles wasn’t able to finish that sentence because loud bangs rang through the air. People were screaming and running around in a panic. The President was being pushed into a car by the secret service. Loud noises everywhere. It took Peter a few seconds to register that they were being shot at. He instantly reached out for Stiles’ hand and tried to pull him to behind a nearby statue to try to use it for shelter.
As soon as the shooting happened, it was over. Peter had his wits together enough to realize that the secret service agents would’ve taken out the shooters in seconds. He was still breathing heavily, but he was relieved that he was okay, not that it would matter since he was shifter and most likely would’ve healed from any bullet.
“Stiles? Are you okay?” He asked, looking over at the brown haired younger man who was sitting next to him. He didn’t get a reply so he looked closer.
His heart nearly stopped. Not only did he smell the blood, but he saw it. It was spread all over Stiles’ chest, dying his white dress shirt red. If it wasn’t for the fact that he could still hear Stiles’ faint heartbeat, he would have been in a full blown panic.
“I need a doctor! An ambulance! Anybody! The Chief of Staff is down!” He shouted as he touched Stiles hand again and attempted to take some of the pain away. It was probably a fruitless attempt since Stiles was in pretty bad shape, but Peter felt the need to do something, anything.
Seconds after he shouted and the team of the EMTs came rushing over. Peter backed away and watched as they began to work on Stiles’ wounds. For the first time for as long as he could remember, he felt completely numb. He knew that because of pack dynamics, if Stiles and one of the others were hurt, he would feel awful like he had lost a limb. This was something else, this felt like his body was on fire and there was nothing he could do.
This was not supposed to happen, especially to Stiles. They were supposed to be heading to get drinks and he was heading to the hospital.
Earlier that day…
Peter glanced over at the computer screen that was capturing Stiles’ attention. Upon seeing the site he tried his hardest not to laugh, and was failing spectacularly at it.
“Sultry Stiles.com? Are you looking at porn of yourself on government servers?” Peter asked, surprising Stiles with his presence. The young man nearly jumped from his chair.
He looked up at Peter. “No, it’s a legit fan site dedicated to me. To me! Can you believe these people exist? I have a fan base!” Stiles said excitedly as he clicked through the forum. “Look at this one! Style78 wrote ‘I feel a lot better about our government knowing that Stiles is working in the White House’. These people love me!”
Peter rolled his eyes. The Internet was truly a weird place.
“Yes, and below that the super original poster, PolSci, posted “Two days ago Stiles was on Nightline and said ‘we’ll be asking for a GAO study of Medicare drug pricing’. Apparently, no one told Stiles that only Congress can ask the GAO to do anything”. It would seem your fans are also a bit critical.” Peter said with a sly smirk.
Stiles pouted a little as read over the post. He leaned back in his chair and looked up at Peter once again. “Good, they aren’t blind followers. You have to admit that it is cool that they know what the GAO can and cannot do.”
“Yes, informed citizens are a rare breed,” Peter drawled, “Why don’t you close the tab for now and come back to work. We have a problem with the Poet Laureate.’
Stiles looked affronted by the prospect of leaving the site. “I have to reply to my people! They may be informed more than most, but they are wrong.” He replied, completely ignoring the second part of Peter’s sentence.
“No. You really can’t reply. I will get Lydia after you if you even think about responding.”
“But, Peter--”
Peter held his hand up, not willing to listen to any argument he could possibly come up with.
“You know Internet fandoms better than most. You know how toxic forums can be. Do not do it.” Peter said seriously. He knew Stiles really wanted to write on the board to further boost his ego, but the last thing they needed was questions from reporters about things Stiles wrote on that site.
Stiles remained silent, looking down at his keyboard as if he was inspecting the dust it collected on it.
“What’s is it?” Peter asked.
Stiles gave a slight shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Well, technically I outrank you.”
Peter’s eyes narrowed. Stiles very rarely pulled the rank card, and when he did Peter usually listened to him, but not on this issue.
“Remember when you gave that press conference when Lydia was sick and I was out of town?”
Stiles paled. He looked much more uneasy now because he knew exactly what Peter was talking about. It was one of the biggest press disasters they had to deal with in their first year in office.
”It’s not my fault that the press are demons! They contort whatever you tell them! It was a joke, and they knew it.”
“A secret plan to fight inflation! You said the President had a secret plan to fight inflation. Do I need to remind you how much lack we got because of that? And who had to fight that criticism?”
“No…” Stiles trailed off. He knew full well of how awful his slip up ended up being. After that incident Lydia and the President banned Stiles from giving another press conference (Lydia wanted it to ban him from the press room all together, but that seemed to be too much). He never heard the end of jokes about it for a month.
“I won’t post on the forums.” Stiles finally said.
Peter nodded, pleased by the decision. “Good. Now, the Poet Laureate?”
“See if she is willing to change her mind about making remarks at the dinner that oppose the administration. If not, offer her some time with the President, getting a few minutes with him would probably help her agenda than anything else, and it wouldn’t hurt us.” Stiles replied. Peter could tell the wheels were turning in Stiles’ mind because it was one of his favorite looks on him.
“Okay. I’ll let her know.”
“Is that it?”
Peter shrugged. “Are you going to the rally in Rosslyn tonight?”
“Yeah. We on for drinks afterwards?” Stiles asked with a grin. It was a common tradition the two of them had after attending events with the President, and a hard day’s work.
“Of course. I’ll see you, later.” Peter replied, smiling too. He started to walk away, but then turned back around just in time to see Stiles starting to type something on that message board.
“None of that!”
Peter doesn’t remember much of the ambulance ride over to the hospital. He remembered calling Derek, Deputy Chief of Staff, now acting Chief of Staff, of the event. He remembered how the outside of the convention hall looked in the aftermath, President McCall signs littering the ground, abandoned by those who ran for their lives. He remembered seeing Stiles wheeled into the ambulance.
The ten minute ambulance ride is what he couldn’t remember, probably because he thoughts were too consumed by the amber-eyed boy that laid unconscious in front of him. All the things he should have said or done ran across his mind.
He and Stiles had long ago acknowledged their chemistry and connection. They knew they made a phenomenal team and the sexual tension was there, but they let their careers take the wheel and pushed their feelings down.
It wasn’t until now that Peter realized he loved Stiles. He never regretted putting his career first, and he knew that Sties was just as prideful about his job. But, now seeing Stiles in such a bad condition, well, it put things in perspective for Peter.
He wasn’t sure what higher power he pissed off, but he must have done something awful. Karma really was a bitch.
The hospital was in absolute chaos when they arrived. Nurses and doctors scrambling to get all non-priority patients transferred to other hospitals as per protocol when this happens. The President apparently arrived a half hour ago and was already being prepped for surgery. As much as that concerned Peter, his focus was solely on the spectacle in front of him.
Stiles, lying on a gurney, surrounded by nurses and doctors as they wheeled down a hallway. He was much paler than usual, probably due to bloodlust. Peter was determined to follow them until he was told he couldn’t anymore.
“I should be in New Hampshire.” Stiles muttered, almost incoherently. The nurse was already putting the oxygen mask on him.
“We went to New Hampshire. You got me and we both went.” Peter knew that Stiles was clearly not thinking straight and yet he couldn’t help but reply. He said more to himself than to anyone else as he they wheeled Stiles through two big doors with a sign on top of them that said only patients and staff were allowed pass them.
He remembered the day that Stiles found him in New York like it was yesterday. It was the day that the doe- eyed boy came crashing into his life and changed it forever.
Seven Years Ago…
“We’re getting the contract done. There’s nothing to discuss here. The Bookings Group are one of our biggest clients and they are going to remain one of our biggest clients.” Peter said, leaning back in his chair at the weekly staff meeting. Some newbie named Sam was trying to argue against the ethical issues that the new contract may have posed. He obviously hadn’t been at law firm long enough to understand that money and profits meant more than the liabilities that the new ships they were insuring for the Bookings Group may have caused. He looked over every aspect of the contract, the likelihood of something happening to the ships and the people aboard them were slim, and even if something did happen they would not be held accountable.
“But sir, why not let them look at the possibilities of acquiring better ships?” Sam asked once again.
Peter was becoming exasperated. “Because we are not in the habit of losing money. This is one of the top law firms for a reason. If you want to go make a difference go lend your talents to a non-profit.”
The young man looked like he was about to argue with Peter once again so he quickly added, “That is it for the meeting. We’ll meet back here next week.”
He stood up, collecting his papers, not even looking in the direction of Sam in hopes that the younger man would give up. Rarely did anyone who argued with Peter win, Sam would have a long way ahead of him before he could match wits with him.
He made his way back to his corner office, walking passed his secretary Erica who was seemingly hard at work typing away on the computer.”
“Did I miss any calls while I was in the meeting?”
She looked up at him and gave a sly smile, “Nope, but there is a cute guy in your office.”
Peter sighed, “Does cute guy have a name? And why are you letting strangers in my office?”
“Stiles Stilinski, he said he was an old friend so I didn’t think it was a problem. Though I do have some questions for you. How can you be old friends with someone so young? You’re not a cradle robber, are you?” She said with a wolfish grin. It was years of working together that made Peter let it slide. He just rolled his eyes and walked away, curious about the new visitor.
He knew the man sitting in his office because he used to date Peter’s nephew Derek years ago. They only dated for a few months and the break up was amicable. He only met Stiles twice so he didn’t think that constituted ‘old friend’ status but he curiosity was peaked regardless so he didn’t care that much.
He walked into his office to find Stiles tossing the stress ball that Peter kept on his desk in the air. He was completely unaware of Peter’s presence.
“Hello, Stiles.”
The younger man’s attention snapped to Peter, forgetting the stress ball was in the air which fell and hit his face. It looked like something out of a comedy movie. He was wearing a white dress shirt and slacks which was pretty much uniform in the business world, but somehow Stiles made it look special.
“Hey. How’s it going?” Stiles said, trying not to grin. Peter really wanted to kill him.
“I’m fine,” Peter said dryly. “Look, I’m a busy guy. Is there something you need?”
“Scott McCall is impressed with you.”
Well, that stopped Peter in his tracks. Scott McCall was a Democratic presidential candidate, and before that he was the Governor of California. Peter had seen some his speeches on television and he had to admit that he was good. If he had a chance at the nomination Peter could see himself voting for him. However, his rival, Jackson Whittemore the likely winner. He had the money, the experience, and had already been considered the nominee for months until Scott’s campaign began to gain momentum.
“I am an impressive guy.” Peter said, trying to brush off the pride he was feeling that McCall knew about his work.
“He liked that work you did with that liberal fundraising group with the stupid name.”
Peter smiled, he knew exactly which one he was talking about, and it had been some of his best work despite the silly name. “Progressive Punch. I really only picked it because It was the more fun names out there. Everyone else is so on the nose.”
“Nothing about how influential they were and how much it was springboard it could be for your career? Not to mention they paid you a hefty sum too.”
Peter chuckled, “That may have had something to do with it too. So McCall is impressed with me?”
“Yup. He wants you on the team as Communications Director. You’re a big part of the success strategy.” Stiles said. Peter could hear his heartbeat tick up ever so slightly, enough to realize that Stiles was lying.
“He has never heard of me. Try again.”
Stiles looked surprised that his lie was caught, but he didn’t try to keep up his charade. “Alright. I want you for the campaign. I’ve seen how you can spin gold out of straw. If we’re going to win this election we’re going to need the best people, and you’re one of them.”
Peter raised an eyebrow, still utterly unconvinced. “And what are you to the campaign? An intern?”
Stile’s brown eyes narrowed, his brows knitted and Peter noticed even his mouth tightened a little. He obviously didn’t like being underestimated because of his age.
“I am his campaign manager and if all goes right I’ll be his Chief of Staff, not that that even matters. I’ve been a political operative since I graduated college. I have been the architect behind four successful senatorial campaigns. I am here to see if want to a chance to do something more with your life than working at this law firm.” Stiles said as he stood up. His ears were tinged red and Peter knew he hit a nerve. If it wasn’t for the fact that Stiles looked even more delectable when he was mad, Peter might’ve regretted his words, but probably not.
“How much does it pay?”
Stiles calmed, “You’re considering it?”
“How much does it pay?” Peter asked again.
“$600 a week.” Stiles shrugged. A significant pay cut then. Peter wasn’t surprised, but he was disappointed.
“I’m about to make partner here, you know. I don’t know if I can just drop everything for a guy who is third place.” It was true. Maybe if McCall was winning Peter would’ve had jumped at the chance, but although Peter liked a lot of policies McCall was proposing, he couldn’t help but get the sense that the guy didn’t have any drive.
“Come help get him to first place then. If all goes right the power you’ll have will far outweigh any paycheck.” Stiles said.
He had a point. Being Communications Director for the campaign could lead to a west wing office. It also would mean he would be in a position to shape policy. It was a very tempting offer.
Stiles must have caught on to his internal debate because he added, “Besides, he’s a good man. I’ve known him since college. He is the embodiment of sunshine, it is almost nauseating.”
Peter almost laughed. That was last reason that would bring him aboard. He would didn’t care if you’re good or bad. He just never had any delusions that he was good person himself, he really only worked based on his self-interest, something that he wasn’t ashamed of admitting. The world worked in shades of grey and a lot of the time it was everyone for themselves.
“I’m going to need some time to think about it. Can I have a day?”
Stiles grinned as if he knew what Peter was already going to decide, which Peter didn’t particularly like because he didn’t know what he was going to decide. He watched as Stiles pulled out a business card and hand it to him.
“Sure. What you really should do is come to New Hampshire to one of the town halls. We’re having one tomorrow. The news shows clips of his speeches, but it’s nothing like really being there.”
“I’ll have to check my schedule, but thanks for stopping in. This is definitely something… something to consider.” Peter acknowledged. Stiles gave another knowing smile as he held out his hand for Peter to shake.
“I’ll see you soon.”
Ten minutes after Stiles left his office Peter informed Erica of his pending resignation and offered her a job with the campaign as well. It wasn’t really his place to ask her, but he had a feeling he could wrangle Stiles into having her on staff. She jumped at the chance since she was apparently a very big McCall supporter and couldn’t wait to travel. Soon after Peter handed in his resignation. This was the next step in his career, not a partnership with the firm that frankly didn’t care much for him. He had always been ambitious, even if he didn’t have a permanent ultimate goal in mind.
For now his ultimate goal was to help get Scott McCall elected for President of the United States.
Roughly five years had flown by then. It was not as easy of a job as Peter expected it to be, but it was as rewarding. All of their hard work during the election had paid off. Many people wrote off McCall and his staff because of their age, but in the end McCall brought in the most youth votes in the nation’s history. The president and he didn’t always get along, especially in the first several weeks on the campaign trail, but they got past it and worked hard. Along the way Peter had become close to the people he worked with. Lydia was as intelligent as they came and worked the press room marvelously. He and Liam initially clashed because the kid was far too idealistic sometimes for Peter’s liking, but he was a great writing together they made quite the team.
But, Stiles? Stiles was the best of them all. They kept each other on their toes. They fought for votes to get legislation passed together. Stiles is the reason they were where they were at now. He brought them all on this adventure a campaign, including the president.
Peter knew what being in a pack was like, his family was a very tight pack before their untimely deaths, from then on it seemed like Peter was meant to be an omega, but then he got this job and got to know these people.
A kind nurse had shown him room that he could wait in for the time being. He had only been in there for a few minutes before Lydia came whirling in.
“What happened?” She was dressed to succeed as always in a blue blouse and matching pencil skirt. Her facial expression showed the devastation she felt.
“Stiles was shot. We were talking when the bullets started flying. I- I tried to pull him to safety but I wasn’t fast enough. The doctors took him into surgery.” He said matter-of-factly.
He could hear her heart pounding. He thought she might tear up, but she was Lydia and she held it together. If he was any other person he would have gotten up and hugged her or said some reassuring words, but he wasn’t like that and he knew she most likely wouldn’t care anyways.
She sat down in a chair across from him and put on a determined expression.
“What about the President?”
“The bullet hit his side, it got lodged in there, I think. They’re doing laparoscopic surgery, I think, to make sure everything is fine. The First Lady and Isaac are in an observation room watching it. It doesn’t matter that it was laced with wolfsbane, he’ll heal in no time.” He should have been more concerned, he knew, but his mind was on other things. Besides, Scott was a shifter and Stiles wasn’t so his focus was on the more fragile of the two. Lydia seemed to understand as she nodded.
She pursed her lips. “We know it was laced with wolfsbane?”
Peter hummed in response. “It had to be strong stuff or else it would’ve healed by now and they wouldn’t have to go through all this.”
They sat in silence for a few moments before Lydia broke the silence.
“I don’t want to jump to conclusions but-“
“It sounds like the work of some moronic anti-shifter fanatic?” Peter finished for her. He had been thinking about it while trying to get Stiles out of his mind.
“Yeah.”
“Obviously we have to wait for the investigation to tell us the findings and I’m sure the secret service will let us know as soon as they know something, but yeah, that’s what I’m thinking too.”
As if on cue, the head of the Secret Service, Duke Alion, came into the room. He was around Peter’s age, dark hair and dark eyes. Peter never had much interaction with the man but he seemed beyond capable of his job.
“What do we know, Duke?” He was the first to ask.
“The Vice President, First Lady, and acting Chief of Staff have already been briefed. There were two shooters in that window, we got them both from the roof, but there was a signal. We’re still looking for their accomplice” He said in his British accent. Peter was glad to know that at least two of the perpetrators were dead. He wished he could end the accomplice.
“Do we know who the shooters were?” Lydia asked.
Duke shook his head. “The shooters must have known they were going to be shot down so they didn’t have any identification on them. One did have a tattoo on his wrist, a symbol for a local group out here that preaches anti-shifter rhetoric. It’s all speculation though. We’ll know more in the next few hours.”
That was enough to confirm Peter’s suspicions. He really wanted to rip something, or someone, to shreds at that moment.
“Thanks, Duke.” Lydia replied, and with that the lead secret service agent left the room.
They all knew the risks of being high profile employees at the While House of all places, and the risks of being around the President, but Peter knew that Scott McCall brought on more danger than most Presidents because he was a shifter. They all heard of the death threats that would be sent every day and every week to the White House, but no one besides the secret service took them that seriously. The President being a shifter was great, but there was plenty of controversy around it. For one thing, he was entirely honest in his first campaign about his status. No one knew until mid-way through his first term that he was the first Shifter President.
He remembered when he himself found out and how furious he had been. He could only imagine how it agitated all the so called ‘Human Pride’ groups.
Three Years Ago…
‘You wanted to see me.” Scott said from his desk in the Oval. It had been a long time since Peter felt awkward in the room, and even longer since he felt jealousy towards Scott, and although a very large part of him wanted to feel both of those things right now, he did not allow it to happen.
Peter stepped forward, striding into the room with all the confidence he had. “Yes, forgive me Mr. President but I think it is time we talk about what has gotten Stiles and the First Lady in such chaotic moods. Well, more chaotic in Stiles’ case. Not to mention the not so clandestine trips down to the White House Senior Council’s office.”
A look of nervousness passed Scott’s face for a brief second but he hid it quickly. ‘Please, have a seat,” He said, getting up from the desk and making his way to one of the couches. Peter took a seat across from him. “I was going to tell you tomorrow.”
“I already know.”
“Know what?” Scott asked, trying to keep his calm.
“I have had my suspicions but nothing was confirmed until recently with the outburst last week coupled with Tate’s trip to New Hampshire. I connected the dots.”
Scott looked at a loss for words. Peter could hear his heart rate pounding, but he did have to admit he was looking composed. “I’m a shifter.”
It took a lot for Peter to not make a biting remark, but he reminded himself where he was standing and who he was talking to. He respected Scott. He knew Scott was highly intelligent and ultimately good for the country. Peter wouldn’t be working night and day for this administration if he didn’t believe that Scott and his fellow co-workers. However, sometimes people could be really stupid, even the President of the United Stiles.
“Did Stiles tell you?” Scott asked, snapping Peter out of some of his thoughts.
Peter shook his head, “No. Stiles is loyal to you. He didn’t betray your trust. No one did. Like I said, I had my suspicions.”
“But, how? I thought I kept it under wraps so well.”
Peter nearly snorted, “You really didn’t. At least not around here and not to shifters.”
“We don’t have any shifters on senior sta-“ Scott’s eyes then went wide with realization, “You’re a shifter, too?”
“Yes, sir.” Peter said evenly. This probably wasn’t the best way to go about this, but it was as close to payback as he was going to get. He cared for the president, but deep down inside Peter knew he cared for the other staff members more and this secret the President had been keeping put them all in jeopardy.
“Elaborate, Peter. How does no one know about this? How did Stiles not know? Or does has he been keeping that from me? What about Derek?” Scott seemed to be on heightened alert. Peter could only imagine the thoughts going through his head.
“No one knows because I keep it under wraps, same with Derek. Our family had such a history with discrimination, many family members being killed because of it, that we didn’t want it out. For the record, we never lied about it during vetting either. Being a shifter isn’t illegal. There’s no laws against my employment here. The only issue with you bring a shifter is you covered it up so you could win the election, and lets not accuse Stiles of anything. He had no idea I am a shifter when he hired me and he still doesn’t know. When did you tell him? Did he know you were implicating him in a mass conspiracy to lie to the American people?”
He may have gone a little too far on that last point but he was very protective of Stiles. Their feelings for each other were pretty transparent, inspiring countless rumors and supplying the office with an overabundance of gossip. They never acted on their feelings though, they were both to emotionally stunted for that step, probably Peter more so than Stiles. Not to mention they were far too focused on their careers.
Peter was also being more hostile than he would typically be, because Scott had the opportunity to be a role model, to really change things. They all had the power to change things, but Scott had more power than them all. He was a great president and he could have been greater. He had an opportunity to change the discourse around shifters for the better, and he wasted it. Especially with reelection coming up. Especially with morons like Gerard Silver touting he was going to ‘Make America Great Again’. If this controversy caused a landslide win for Silver than Peter was going to jump into a vat of acid so he doesn’t have to see what the world would become over that idiot’s so called leadership.
Scott straightened up his back, his eyes meeting Peter’s. “I told him last year. I never asked anyone to lie for me. Nothing illegal was ever done.”
“That may be true, but you put everything we worked for in jeopardy, the American people are going to feel betrayed and furious, and rightfully so for once.” Again, it may have been harsh, but it was the truth. If Scott couldn’t handle Peter’s honesty then the next several days were going to be even more of a hell than he expected them to be.
“You think I don’t already know this?” Scott asked quietly.
Peter sighed. Scott was kind hearted. It was his nature, it was part of the reason he got elected. It was also one of the reasons that their personalities didn’t always mash up. He decided to change tactics no longer feeling his anger was appropriate no matter how much he wanted to continue to be bitter. He could always be angry when he got home with the added benefit of having scotch.
“We’ll need to get ahead of this. Come out to the public this week on our own terms. We’ll do it live. Wednesday night on all the network, in the Mural Room with the First Lady. I’ll talk it over with Lydia, but that should work.” His mind was now whirling with the possibilities and plans. There was a very fine line they had to walk to make this work. This seemed like the best they could do. Scott nodded along, seemingly agreeing. Peter continued, “It’ll have to be followed by a press conference. You are going to have to answer the question about running for reelection.”
Peter heard Scott’s heart rate pick up once again. They were all in over their heads.
“I’ll have answer to you by then.” Scott replied, attempting to sound reassuring. Peter wasn’t sure if he was trying to reassure Peter, or himself, but he guessed it was the latter.
Peter nodded, “Good. I’ll go get started on some prep. Should I let Lydia or do you want to handle that?”
Scott cracked a small smile, “You can do it. There’s a thing in the Situation Room happening in twenty minutes that I need to go take care of.”
Once again Peter gave a curt nod and left the room.
It seemed like a lifetime ago. Stiles had found out about his shifter status shortly after and much to Peter’s relief, he took it extremely graciously. A few dog jokes here and there, but all in good fun and nothing that ever bothered Peter.
By some miracle they had gotten through the election cycle and won. Of course there was a lot of backlash, but they managed to get through it together. It seemed they had come out of it unscathed, at least until now.
Now, Peter was sitting in the hospital waiting room. Peter hated hospitals. Hated them more than anything else in the world (which was saying something since he hated a lot of things). The smell was one thing. The medicines, the illness, his werewolf senses heightened them all and it was almost intolerable. It was also because nothing good ever warranted a hospital visit. Chalk it up to another reason he valued his abilities, he never had to spend much time in them due to the fact that he didn’t really socialize with people very often. His life was his work, and the people he worked with were his friends which is to say he only had a handful of friends. Before his career took off all of his friends were also shifters, in short, trips to the hospital were few and far in between.
Yet, here he was sitting in the makeshift private waiting room that the nurses had provided for the members of the west wing. The First Lady was there, along with Isaac, and Liam. Derek and Lydia were already back at the White House handling things from there. Peter had never felt so useless in his life, but he checked and there was surprisingly little for him to do unless Derek was hiding tasks from him which was a real possibility.
If he was being honest with himself he wasn’t really in the right condition to work anyways. His emotions were running far too high for shifter, for anyone in general really. It took years of practicing self-control to keep himself from lashing out, and that’s exactly what he wanted to do. He wanted to rip the waiting room apart, he wanted to yell at Scott for running for president and putting them in this positon, he wanted to find anyone the shooter ever loved and kill them all.
He should have told Stiles how he felt, work be damned. Office romances could work, he should have never let his ambitions get in the way of his feelings. He should have just kissed Stiles in one of the many times he had the opportunity to, he should have made love to him one of the many nights they stayed up late working. He should have told him how intelligent he thought he was, and how he loved his mind at work.
He should have told Stiles he loved him.
“Peter?” A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. It was Liam. He had shown up a hour ago right after Lydia left, almost as if they were coming and going in shifts. He looked even more like a lost puppy than usual. “Should I be writing something for this? I feel like I should be doing something.”
Well, he was in the same boat as a lot of people. They all should be doing something, but this was a completely new situation for them.
“Yeah, you can prepare some remarks for Lydia and see if you can help Derek with anything too. He has Braeden but he could probably use any help he can get. I’m going to stay here for another hour and then I’ll be back to help out too.” Peter said because he would leave in an hour. He definitely would. This would not hinder his ability to be one of the best communications directors the White House had seen. There was absolutely no way.
Liam looked doubtful but didn’t say anything contradictory. He simply nodded. “Okay. I’ll let you know if any problems come up.”
The younger man stood up from his chair, before he let through the door he turned to Peter. “He’s going to be okay. He’s a fighter.”
Normally, Peter would make a scathing remark that would take down Liam’s self-esteem a few pegs, but his heart wasn’t in it right now. Instead he just gave a curt nod.
Six Years Ago…
Peter was beyond excited. They had gotten the early exit polls and it appeared that Scott was going to do the impossible and win the California primary. Months ago no one would have thought it possible since he was running against a much more established candidate who had tons of funding behind him. However, the McCall campaign seemed to have prevailed. It had been a very tight race, but it seemed that tonight was the night they would clinch the delegates they needed.
He approached Stiles’ door, exit poll papers in hand, and knocked. Soon enough Stiles opened it wearing a blue Captain America t-shirt and sweatpants. His hair was mussed up like he had been sleeping.
“What’s going on?”
“Exit polls. Stiles, we’re going to win. Tonight he gets the delegates he needs. He’s going to become the youngest presidential nominee.”
Stiles’ eyes widened. “You’re kidding. Let me see.”
Peter handed the papers over and watched as Stiles looked them over. Peter was couldn’t stop smiling as Stiles looked up, still in shock. “We did it! They still have to vote, but we did it!”
He pulled Peter into a hug and did the unthinkable. He kissed him. It was a really good kiss, Peter found himself leaning into it. Stiles tasted sweet and like all things good. Peter wanted more, but Stiles instantly pulled away.
“Oh god. What did I did I do?” He asked and before Peter could say anything he retreated back in his room and shut the door.
Peter was left standing in the hallway wondering what the hell just happened.
Hours later Peter and most of the other staff was anxiously awaiting the results of the primary. Some were pacing about and keeping busy, some were glued to the television. Peter was with Liam putting the final touches on what he hoped would be the speech Scott would be giving to a ballroom full of people, his acceptance speech.
“CNN can confirm that Scott McCall will win the California primary putting him over the number of delegates needed to win the Democratic nomination. He is now the presumptive nominee.” A news reporter said on television.
The penthouse suite they had all taken up residence in had erupted in cheers. All of their hard work had paid off. Lydia was turning up the music, ‘We Are the Champions’ playing throughout the room. It may have been too much, but this was a big moment. Peter had his doubts they would actually get here, but they won.
Everyone was laughing, smiling, singing along. It was a good feeling. Even Derek was grinning, a rare sight to see.
Peter looked around the room trying to spot the one person that he really wanted to see, Stiles. Ever since hours ago when they kissed his mind had been on the other man. He hadn’t seen Stiles since, he seemed very good at avoiding people if he wanted. At first he thought he may have been with Scott, but he spotted the newly crowned presumptive nominee dancing with Allison, their friend Isaac watching the two of them. Stiles was nowhere in sight.
He searched all around the apartment and there was no sign of Stiles. No one even seemed to know where he went. It wasn’t until he went outside to the hallway that he found him sitting on the ground, looking completely lost. Peter could feel despair and sadness radiating off him, two emotions that he shouldn’t have felt. All thoughts of the kiss they shared had disappeared.
“Stiles. What happened? We won. That usually calls for celebration.”
He seemed to not have heard Peter. He was so lost in his own thoughts. Peter moved closer to him knowing that something was definitely wrong.
“Are you okay?”
The proximity snapped Stiles’ out of his reverie. He looked at Peter and Peter could tell he had been crying. His amber-whiskey eyes were tinged red. It was not a look that he ever wanted to see on Stiles.
“My dad died…”
Well, that was unexpected. He knew that Stiles and his father had a rather strained relationship, but that Stiles still loved his father very much. He was always adamant about his weekly calls to his father no matter what condition the campaign was in.
He sat down next to Stiles on the floor. Peter was never good at dealing with grief or talking to people about their problems. He would often say the absolute wrong thing and make things worse. He always left other people to deal with emotional turmoil, he’d just repress everything and most likely go drink the most expensive alcohol he could find.
As bad as he was with helping people with their problems, he felt like he needed to try with Stiles.
“What happened?”
“He, uh, had a heart attack. He was always having heart problems, but I didn’t know it was anything serious…”
“Are you going to go head to Beacon Hills then?”
“Yeah, I already told Scott, but I’m going to be back as soon as possible. We can finally focus on the general election.” He straightened up a little.
“Stiles, despite what you might think, the campaign will not fall apart without you. It might actually be better.” Peter said, settling back into his snarky ways. It was much more comfortable than trying to be sympathetic.
Stiles nearly cracked a smile, “Wow. Thanks, Peter. Are you saying that Derek would be a better campaign manager?”
Peter chuckled, “No, but maybe Liam.”
“Liam would be eaten alive.”
“You’re probably right.”
They sat in silence, the faint celebratory music still playing from inside the hotel room. The rest of the staff was still having a very good time.
“Do you think he was proud of me?”
“You do realize I barely knew the man. Besides that one run in with him as a teenager when he was a Deputy—You know what, yes. He was proud of you. You have accomplished more than most people and in such a short time, and you’re not a bad person. He was proud.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.” Stiles gave a small smile.
“I’m nothing if not a good stand-in therapist.”
“Somehow I doubt that.” Stiles rolled his eyes. Then he seemed to realize something. “Wait you got in trouble with my dad? What did you do?”
Peter just laughed as he stood up. “Oh look at the time. I have to prep Scott for his acceptance speech. You have a flight to catch.”
Both of them being the unhealthy individuals that they were decided to push aside their feelings after that night. They never talked about the kiss and they wanted to put work first.
Five hours had passed before Peter finally convinced himself that sitting in the waiting room was pointless and he needed to go do something productive. The First Lady and Isaac had left twenty minutes ago to check on the President. He caught Lydia’s press conference on TV and although she did great, he knew she and Liam would be needing help. Derek was probably trying to keep the White House from burning and regretting his life choices up until this point. He would need some level-headed guidance too, not that Peter was completely level-headed right then. He was just gathering his things when one of the doctors came in the room, a short woman with platinum blond hair.
“Mr. Hale. I’m happy to report that the surgery was successful. It appears that Mr. Stilinski will be fine.”
Peter let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. This was a relief, but his nerves were still on edge. He needed to see Stiles with his own eyes. ‘When will he be able to see visitors?”
The doctor gave a small smile, “He’s sleeping right now, the drugs are pretty potent, but you can sit in his room if you’d like. Also, keep in mind his still has a long road of recovery ahead of him.”
“Well, no shit.” Peter thought. He hated when people stated the obvious, even if it in this case it was completely necessary. It did not matter that he was extremely exhausted.
“Thank you so much, doctor.” He said, pushing all negative thoughts aside. For now, he was just happy he could see Stiles again.
“Right this way.” She led him down a few hallways. Secret service agents were still all over the place as the President was still undergoing a procedure as well. They finally got to room 447 which appeared to be Stiles’ room.
He entered the room and was met with mixed emotions. He was beyond relieved to see Stiles alive and relatively okay, however he couldn’t help but feel worried by all the tubes and machines that he was hooked up to. He looked smaller than usual to Peter, most likely due to his condition and to the fact that he was sleeping. Peter had never seen Stiles sleep. He was usually full of energy and caffeine, never slowing down even for a second. Yet, here he was, blissfully passed out and unaware of all the internal strife he was causing Peter.
The doctor checked two of the machines and then said to press the button next to the bed if he needed anything before leaving him alone with an unconscious Stiles.
He looked at the sleeping form in front of him and felt very unsure of himself, a new experience for him. He decided to take up residency in the chair across from Stiles’ bed. There was about 500 things he could have been doing, but the wolf in him was finally content for the first time since the bullets rained down upon them. He was not going to move from the chair unless he was really needed to.
After several minutes of nothing but the beeping of the machines. Peter decided the room was going to drive him crazy very quickly if he kept this up. He had seen people on television talk to unconscious people in hospitals before, mostly coma patients, so he thought there was no harm in talking to Stiles right then.
“I wonder what the SultryStiles fans are doing now. Probably losing their minds and holding candlelight vigils for you. Well, everyone except the ones who didn’t like you meddling with the Medicare report.” Peter began to say out loud to himself. It was a strange feeling, but got over it quickly. One thing he loved was the sound of his own voice.
“There is one silver lining to all of this, Derek is beside himself with stress. He has no idea what he is doing,” Peter leaned back in his chair, voice low. “Okay, obviously he knows what he’s doing because you mentored him, but he’s so stressed.” Peter smiled a little. No one would be surprised to learn that he took delight from his nephew’s misfortune.
“Scott is fine. Wolfsbane bullet hit him but the doctors got it in plenty of time. He’s in recovery like you except he is up and talking. The First Lady and Isaac are already with him. I swear there is something going on between those three. Anyways, the point is, it takes a lot more to kill a shifter.”
Peter moved around in his chair a little bit. “Which is why the bullet should have hit me. You know I would’ve healed. Meanwhile, you’re a fragile human. I would give you the bite if it weren’t for the fact that you’d kill me. Legality wouldn’t bother me, you know that. It should be legal to give the bite in life or death situations, but that’s a policy opinion we’ll keep between us.”
He decided that was enough talk for now. He would just go shut his eyes and maybe get some sleep. That was no longer an option as Stiles let out a groan.
“Peter?” He rasped from where he laid. Peter had never been more thankful to hear his voice.
Peter instantly stood up and rushed to the bedside. Stile’s eyes were blinking open, adjusting to his surroundings.
Peter held his hand without even thinking. “Hey, yeah. I’m here. You’ve pulled some really stupid stunts, but this tops them all.”
Stiles coughed instead of laughing like he intended. “S’not my fault. I didn’t want to get a whole in my chest like Iron Man. Unless I could actually be Iron Man because that would be cool.”
Peter ignored his comment. “You can’t do this again, no more getting critically ill. I like the staff, you know I do, Lydia, Liam, Derek, even the President are all pack, but you are the only one that really matches up to me. We both decided long ago to put all our feelings aside for this job. I don’t know if it was your idea or mine, but it can’t work anymore. I can’t lose you. “
He sighed after he let it all out there. He had a plan to be much more tactful about it all. He wanted to be the eloquent speaker that he was, creating moving speeches was his job, and yet he felt like he just spoke a rambling mess.
Stiles seemed to digesting the words. Peter thought that perhaps he should have waited until he was off some of the painkillers.
Then Stiles smiled, “You’re right. We went about this all wrong. I love you, Peter.”
Peter leaned down and kissed Stiles. It was such a good kiss that it almost washed away all the pain and turmoil he had felt for the past hours. He pulled away and they were both smiling now.
“I’m going to have to write about this on SultryStiles.com. The fan girls will go wild.” Stiles said.
Peter knew that things weren’t going to go back to normal after this event, but normal was always overrated. This was much better.