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“Excellent wretch! Perdition catch my soul But I do love thee! and when I love thee not, Chaos is come again.”
///
“We’re meeting at the veterinary clinic,” his daughter flashes him a smile, sunny and happy and so very Allison it takes him a moment to gather a reply. He says it’s okay and to stay until the curfew.
Things have changed. Chris laughs at the euphemism and it’s a giggling sound not appropriate for a man his age.
He has his daughter back. She’s happy and with the wereboy. Chris pretends he’s okay with it and maybe he even is. Sort of. The old, eventless and small town atmosphere is back in Beacon Hill and they don’t have to worry about supernatural killers, which is a nice break.
“Give Deaton my regards,” the words sneakily slip through his lips. Before he can change them, Allison is out of the door.
////
Allison only remembers her father words half-way through helping Scott and Deaton feed newborn kittens that had lost their mother. They need food every two hours and there were 6. "Oh! Mr. Deaton, my father wanted me to give his regards."
"Well, that's unexpected of him." Deaton leads a Doberman female who had given birth about 6 months ago to lay down with the kittens. "You can tell him regards are best given in person."
"Sure?" Allison glances at Scott for an explanation of his bosses' strange behavior. The wolf is no help and he’s currently cooing over a black and white splotched kitten and misses the entire exchange.
///
He doesn’t go to visit after Allison tells him Deaton’s reply. Because what could he do? Just go in here and say hi? They have seen each other briefly, at the grocery, or sometimes at the gas station. It’s a small town after all.
Chris avoids his daughter every time she say she’s going to see Scott at work. She’s a smart girl, but love has struck her blind to all else in the world. She rambles about school and Scott and finally she gets back around to Deaton.
"The kittens are getting homes and Deaton is taking one home for himself. You should have seen it, it was adorable. It perched up on his shoulder the whole time he was organizing his shelves."
A glass shatters and Chris has to look down to realize it was his. The pieces are scattered around the floor in an impossible to reconstruct mess and Chris groans in frustration. He never was particularly fond of metaphors.
"Dad? What's going on?" She takes out the broom and dustpan.
“Nothing, love,” he answers her question. “Just an old feud that doesn’t seem likely to end.”
"Is this about Deaton helping Derek and the pack?" Allison frowns. "Maybe you can patch it up? Deaton is a good man."
“I don’t doubt it, darling. There’s nothing to patch up though.”
"If you say so." Allison looks at her father through the corner of her eye. "You know it feels like everything is getting back to normal. Or maybe what normal is supposed to be like. The pack is rebuilding the Hale house. Stiles has family night with his dad every thursday. Mrs. McCall and Mr. Stilinski are dating. Even Deaton has a boyfriend."
His head snaps up so fast he’s surprise he doesn't hurt himself. “Deaton has what now?” It comes out nearly as a growl and he can say his daughter is taken aback. He smiles tightly and nods at the clock. “You’re going to be late.”
"Oh! I have to change. I'll be back before midnight, promise." Allison runs up the stairs to prepare for her date, leaving her father to his thoughts of the past.
***
The bell for the door rings.
"You know I own this place and I don't get overtime. Just once I'd like to go home at a reasonable hour." Deaton grouses as he walks from the back into the front of the shop. "Argent."
“Why, you have someone waiting for you?” He openly glares at the man, challenging him to try denying it.
"Not tonight. Friday is usually the teen date night and the restaurants are filled. We tend to choose Saturday instead." Deaton explains calmly. "There are a few T.V. shows I like to catch tonight if you don't have anything else to say."
“So, when’s the happy day? Or are you going to omit me during invitations?” He comes through the reception and stands in front of the man with arms crossed over his chest.
"I don't think a proposal is appropriate during the second week. But, if it makes you feel better, I don't intend to keep you out of the loop when I do marry. You aren't an ex-boyfriend after all."
Chris cocks his head to the side. “Am I not now? Didn’t you cry about how I left you and ruined men for you last time we talked?”
"I might be surrounded by teenagers too often. It sounds like we were enacting a lifetime movie script." Deaton keeps his cool, but the corners of his mouth turns down.
“Tell me at least who’s the vaguely lucky guy.”
"Why? So you can put a bullet in him to check if he's a werewolf?"
“I prefer arrows. The wound can’t heal when the fragments are still stuck in the flesh,” Chris says lightly. “So which is he? Who are you sucking off, the older Hale or the younger? Not many possibilities in this town.”
Deaton smiles without mirth and punches Chris across the face. "I've wanted to do that for years."
The Argent recoils and glares at the man. “Took you long to grow balls and do it.” He slams into the man, grabbing at his shoulders and shoving him at the wall.
Deaton grunts and pushes himself away. "I was never the coward of the two of us. What are you doing? Why are you here?"
“I asked you a question.” He shoves at the man again.
"I don't feel obliged to answer bullies." Deaton slips his hand into his pocket and his fingers are painted with a blue powder. He brings his hand up and pushes it against Argent's chest. The hunter flies backward into the far wall. "Did you forget my calling?"
The back of Chris’ head slams into the hard surface and pain blinds him for a moment. He whimpers trying to get up and blinks rapidly to get the world back to focus. “What did you do to me?”
"Nothing permanent." Deaton shows Chris his fingers. "Just one of the many tricks of this witch. Now leave. My relationship will never be your business."
Chris presses the palm of his left hand to his head hoping to relieve the pounding inside. “I don’t want you dating people,” he spit out finally.
"I don't care. I'm not yours to control. I haven't been since I was too young to know the difference between caring and controlling." He crosses his arms over his chest. "Are you trying to make me a better offer?"
“I don’t even have to try. Whatever wolf you might have is a downgrade, even for you.” He gets up on shaking legs, standing wobbly inches from the other man. Whatever the fuck was the powder the witch used, it has to have some effect on his nervous system. He winces trying to tense the muscles in his legs.
"Unlike you, I consider werewolves the same as human as far as dating potential. They even have a little advantage. Possessiveness is in their nature rather than a flaw of their personality. You use the wolves as an excuse. You would be just as stupidly obsessed if it were a human. Hiding behind your hunter's racism again."
He scoffed. “Or maybe I don’t enjoy the thought of him losing control and attacking you during full moon. So it’s Peter, right? The murderer? For fuck’s sake, you must have a self esteem of a teenager to fuck that.” He grunts suddenly feeling his knees buckling.
"I fucked you. Peter's a leap up." Alan watches as Chris goes back down. "The spell works as a muscle relaxant. Just stay down."
“Fuck you.”
"Not if you paid me."
He smirks and gets up on his knees. At least he can force his upper body to comply. “You make it sound like you’ve ever been anything but desperate for it.” His hands sneak around Deaton’s calves, ready to gnaw at them if he were to move.
Deaton looks down and sighs. He lowers himself down to sit on the floor beside the Argent. "Can you stop projecting long enough to tell me what you actually want from me?"
Argent rubs at his eyes. “I want you to fuck off. Leave me alone, finally,” he says quietly. “Just... stop.”
"I have." Deaton sighs and looks up at the heavens for help. "I have left you alone. And I think that's your problem. You're alone."
“Alan.” He says the word soft and timid, as if he’s scared of it.
The vet gives an almighty sigh and takes the hunter's hand. He laces their fingers together. "Chris. You are the most stubborn idiot. You ever consider trying something like asking me out?"
“No.” He says simply. The veterinarian rolls his eyes but Chris doesn’t wait for the response. His fingers tightens over the man’s and he leans toward him, cupping his cheek with other hand and forcing it in his direction. He freezes, waiting for Deaton to make the leap.
"I can't do it for you." Deaton lets himself hope, for one moment Chris' palm on his cheek felt like a new start. "I'm not going to make the jump only to watch you let me fall alone again."
“Please...” He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against Deaton’s.
Alan closes his eyes too. He can feel the heat coming off Chris' body like a furnace. He'd be lying to think he doesn't want Chris. "No, Chris. I'll help you to the car and drive you home."
Home. Chris grimaces. Home, when Allison is surely still on her date, his home with its empty walls and painful memories. He opens his eyes and closes the small distance between their faces. His lips press over Alan’s and he sucks on them lightly before breaking the kiss just to trace the upper lip with his tongue, gingerly asking for more.
Deaton never thought Chris was capable of taking that first step. He’s unable to stop his body's response. The witches' tongue sweeps over Chris' mouth, opening the man for a deeper kiss.
Chris clunches the man’s shirt in his weakened fingers, tugging him closer and shifting to press against him. He pushes at Deaton’s chest a moment later, awkwardly balancing on his knees and trying to make him lay down while still fighting the haziness in his mind.
The vet wants it to last forever. But that isn't possible. He breaks the kiss and then presses his lips to Chris' forehead. "I can't."
“Yes, you can,” Chris whines. “Please. Alan. Don’t just... Please.” He bows his head to hide the tears.
"I am truly sorry, Chris. But I'm taken. You know I've always been staunchly monogamous. I can't just abandon what he and I have because you show a moment of progress."
“A moment of progress?” Chris grinds his teeth together. “Okay. Sure. Go back to your wolf, I hope your consolation prize proves worthy.” He makes an attempt to stand up and succeeds on second try.
"Let me call you a cab." Alan pulls his cell and moves to support Chris' back. "Chris, would you be able to take me home and introduce me as your lover to Allison?"
Chris stumbles a little and turns to glare at the man. “And what would I tell her? That I had a thing for guys all these years? And that now she’s gonna have two daddies?” His voice is pure mockery. “Three months after her mother died? For fuck sake, have some common sense.”
"I am. You are still grieving. As it's normal. So is she. Bringing me into your family is going to be disruptive and damaging. So... Now that you know I hold affection for you. And I know you hold it for me. The adult thing to do is to go back to our separate lives with that knowledge and make the most of the future before us."
“Oh, fuck you and your holier than thou speeches,” Chris says. “I should have known better than to come here.”
"I'm setting you down on the bench outside my office." Deaton ignores the hunter's bitterness.
The man shoves past him and nearly loses his balance. “I can walk on my own.”
"If you're found in a ditch I am banning you from my office for the rest of your natural life." Alan deadpans as he positions Chris back on the bench. "Sit or I call Allison."
Argent leans on the wall with a grunt. “Don’t.”
"Wait for the cab and I won't have to resort to it."