#infecianimus

        “To what do I owe the pleasure of you invading my privacy Uncle Peter?” Cora grumbled from the bed she was using as a study desk.

She knows he’s telling the truth. She knows he could have any person he wanted,and despite it all, he wanted her. Her arms stayed crossed at her side, head tilted just slightly because he was too tall to stare at head on. The tension in her eyebrows loosened so that they unfurled. 

She doesn’t know what to say back to that. Derek had been the most popular boy in school, and she had always thrived off of knowing every cheerleader wanted him and she still had him. But this wasn’t highschool anymore, and Peter wasn't Derek. 

❝ This thing. ❞

   beige extremities prudently familiarize themselves with the aforementioned object whilst terrestrial spheroids scrupulously consume its foreign appearance. an unmistakable tone of uninhibited inquisitiveness purposefully carries forth a solitary query.

   “What,” it’s a sharp hiss. The hunter rarely got     enough sleep, and this bed was so comfortable.     Blue eyes are flittered open, to turn his body to     look at his boyfriend. “What do you want Peter?”    As a sleepy hand lifts to run over his eyes, it     bumps across the band,and it all clicks in place.    The werewolf is met with a wide, now fully awake,     stare. 

(x)

Chris Argent did not get drunk. At least he never did before, but that was before he was snaking drink after drink away from Peter. The camp spot had become their place. The place they went they needed to get away from it all, the place they went when life was too tough, the place they went where they could just be alone.He should've clued in after his fourth bottle, when he had to lay down in the tent because the world was becoming dizzy. But he was dumb enough to grab a fifth. Chris Argent soon learned he liked to talkwhen he got drunk.

He's laying on his stomach, head propped up on his elbow. This was also the night he learned werewolves can't get drunk.  His eyes are half-lidded, and there's a small smile on his lips. "You made me gay. I never even looked at a boy until you came."  

From then, his mouth was unstoppable. Half the words that floated were Chris telling Peter how good he looked, how hard it was to act civil when he was around, how sometimes he just wanted to push him against a wall. Then his head dipped, resting on Peter's chest, and the tone of his words changed, softer, scared.