#stilesxpeter

Song drabble ficlets - AO3

Song 21 : Stronger by The Score. Steter Word count: 896

He's the only one who notices it, he can tell that...could tell that early on. He feels the guilt of course, after all, he was one of the people who helped burn Peter alive for the second time.

But he sees the way that the older Hale flinches ever so slightly near an open flame, see's the way his eyes change slightly at the feeling of being too hot, the cloudiness of memory and phantom pains. He is the one who sees the way that Peter will avoid anything above a certain temperature, the way that he will jerk as if something had suddenly reminded him of the past, of the fire...the crackle of something cooking, a scent of certain meats being charred on a wayward barbecue in the town somewhere.

He see's the way that his shoulder's slump just by a small fraction when the rest of the pack make plans and he's once again left behind, forgotten on the sidelines, his ideas dismissed as the rantings of a man once mad.

Stiles knows this all, he sees it all. He has his own traumas to battle, his own misgivings to fight over and make good on. He owes so much to Peter, so many apologises to made amends. After all, how are you meant to say sorry to the guy you helped another Argent set fire too.

But he knows at the same time, that while Peter has his weaknesses towards fire, towards heat and anything that reminds him of the fire, of his family that he lost.

He knows that he came back stronger too. His mind is sharper, wonders sharper again. For all the hiding he does behind his smirks, his armour, there is strength there. He sees it in the way that Peter stands his place in the pack, the way he takes the threats and the snide remarks bitten under breathes, he collects them all and builds his shields up with them, layer upon layer, fixing them together with connections that no one else sees.

But Stiles does.

It's another day, another pack meeting in the middle of summer, another creature prowling through the heat ridden preserve. The wolves are all convinced that they know what it is...and they are sort of right. The last meeting, Peter had commented on a creature but like normal, the others dismissed him, and Stiles had watched as the older Hale rolled his eyes and leaned further back in to the shadows.

It wasn't to do. Stiles brings up the creature that Peter spoke about, he had researched it himself and agreed with the older wolf on it, he tells them that it's easy to catch and easier again to make leave the land. The creature isn't out for threats or destruction on a harmful level, it's more of a trickster, looking for enjoyment in the annoyance of others.

They listen to him, and it rubs him wrong. He frowns deeply as they start to divvy out the roles to each member of the pack.

''No.'' The word is leaving his mouth before he can realise, he's spoken, he sees the way the pack freezes and turns towards him, blinks as he breathes out. ''Peter and I already have plans, and you don't need either one of us for this creature. You have all the information you need.'' Stiles speaks as he nods, conviction in his tone as he stands and brushes off imaginary dust from his jeans.

They try to argue, that they need him, that he was the one who figured it out. But he just holds a hand up and silences them all. ''Peter is the one who came up with the creature, I just agreed with him. This could've been sorted out last pack meeting, but you didn't want to listen to him, now we have plans, so if you excuse us both, we're going to leave before we're late.'' HE nods before turning to look at Peter who's staring at him with a raised brow but a slight smirk curling his lips.

It isn't until they are both in his jeep and driving away from the loft that he finally feels Peter's eyes on the side of his face. It adds to the heat already in the air as he reaches out for the air conditioning, turning it towards Peter even as he smacks his hand against the dashboard to get it working. It's another ten minutes before he's pulling up outside of the ice rink that Peter chuckles.

He looks over at the wolf then, his eyes dropping down to take in the light weight top he's wearing, the jeans he knows are thin too before his eyes lift back up to meet knowing blue ones. They remind Stiles of the ocean in the heat, of the sun sparkling off the surface of the water as he nods and they both climb out of the jeep and head towards the doors.

I'm in the process of rewriting the entire story. I have the first few chapters done and will upload when I feel completely satisfied. I was just beginning to write back then, and I have grown so much and feel it's such a good story that I need to revamp it with writing that is much more refined and within my style. Plot is changing a bit, it's more of a slow burn.

Tagging a couple loyal readers that I miss:

@twothumbsandnostakeincanon

@twistedamusement

Should have them all up by the end of the month! I got super bad imposter syndrome and left the fandom because I felt I wasn't any good and was just getting pity likes/kudos/comments.

Feral werewolves have become rather common in the past year. Individual werewolves had been targeted and driven from their packs, with no connection to the world.

See, wolves were tactile creatures, needing frequent contact, a reminder of their safety and that they are surrounded by their pack. Without touch, they grew monstrous, and started deforming hideously, and beyond recognition, even to their own alpha.

This, everyone believed, was how the world would end.

Somewhere in California, however, in a small town, named Beacon Hills, was a boy. His mother had possessed a Light, which resided in her right hand. The Light helped her See. Many sought to have this Sight, and therefore needed the Light in Claudia Stilinski's right hand.

She knew when it would happen, for she had Seen it, and in the last moments she had shared with her son, she passed the Light to him by a spell as he wept and pleaded for her to stay, and taught him another spell, to hide his light; "Hush now, my beautiful Mieczyslaw, for you must be clear of mind to remember these words, as they will protect you. Goodbye my son."

Mieczyslaw's father, the then deputy of Beacon Hills, was blissfully unaware of supernatural beings of any kind, much less knew of his son's secret. Claudia's passing was believed to be an attack by a group of drunken men, a puncture in her right hant and three stab wounds to the heart.

As the boy, now nicknamed Stiles, grew older, he started educating himself in the field of magic and the light. And when, as a sixteen year old boy, his best friend was Bitten by the first feral werewolf, newly dubbed The Abandoned, that Stiles had ever met, an Alpha, no less, he knew he could no longer keep the truth of supernatural from Scott.

He taught the boy all he knew, but his lessons fell on deaf ears, as Scott's mind was constantly fixated on the one who would start the end of the world.

---

To avenge her mother and aunt, Allison Argent, drunk on grief, started to hunt. She refused to let any hinder her of her goal, which was to mark werewolves as a wild and uncontrolled species, to convince all humans of the need to eliminate each and every last wolf. Even her grandfather, darkened and twisted as he was, tried to put an end to her madness, aided by his son, Christopher. They were rewarded with death by her hands for their efforts.

No, there was no stopping Allison Argent. And Stiles had Seen it all, and prepared himself for the inevitable, for the Great Huntress of Wolves was sure to put an end to the protectors of Beacon Hills.

Stiles swore to prevent it, as there were already only three of the original protectors remaining, that had only just reconciled with each other.

So he prepared, and trained, and coaxed his 'wolves into vigilance, even as they hadn't any ideas as to why.

Stiles' Sight allowed him to See the future, along with people's souls, pasts, as well as their names. And, in the future, this gift from his mother, unbeknownst to him, would save the world, along with all of the Abandoned. For the only way to save an Abandoned, was by speaking its name.

Stiles had insured himself a position of high ranking in his pack, granting him the loyalty of each member, as well as the ability to convince his Alpha to reconcile with the Alpha's uncle and younger sister. That said uncle of the Alpha, a man by the name of Peter Hale, was to be Stiles' mate and lover for their days, was yet to be discovered by either.

Stiles kept the pack together and content, for which he was adored and protected by all, and by Peter the most. So when the day came, his warning of danger was heeded. Sure enough, in the late afternoon, the Forseen Abandoned came barreling through the trees, and his 'wolves set about protecting him and trusting that he did have some crazy plan for this feral 'wolf.

True enough, as soon as Stiles Saw the Abandoned's name, he called it out with consolation and promise of safety.

The newly healed werewolf became Pack, and, soon enough learned to love Stiles as dearly as the others did.

The pack steadily grew, what with Stiles saving and healing each and every Abandoned to cross their path, by calling their names. Never once, was he doubted.

---

Stiles expected the day where he would battle the Great Huntress, and still dreaded the moment. He was prepared, he told himself, there is no need to fear. It was true, he needn't have worried, as miss Argent hadn't anticipated magic to be a factor in her battle, and lost.

Stiles knew, of course, that she had only driven people mad; the humans with fear, and the werewolves with isolation. Knew that she had only her father and grandfather's blood on her hands, a burden that was punishment enough. And Stiles knew that she and Scott loved each other dearly.

With a simple touch to her forehead, she was unconscious, and Stiles gathered her body in his arms before carrying her to the pack's home. She awoke in the comfortable bed, with food and drink within her reach. She seemed surprised to not have been tied up.

"As you still allow me to move my limbs, I shall give you a chance to explain to me why my heart still beats, in return."

Stiles considered her for a moment, then said, "I seek to remind you of the woman you once were, and the center of your sanity."

The huntress merely tilted her head to the side, an indication for Stiles to elaborate. But he simply stood up and left, and the door remained ajar.

In came a sight she thought she would never behold again, and with it, a flood of memories. Through the river of her tears, she reached for her love, and was embraced immediately.

---

The danger still lurked, known by none but Stiles. Yet the boy remained silent with it. He decided to let fate choose his path, as his loved ones would die, should he try to fight.

And as he had predicted, a man came to him while he was alone in the forest, a man he recognized instantly; the single scarred eye, an injury by his mother's hand, gnarled flesh, by the fire from his mother's light, and the smirk born from his mother's last breath.

A rush of feelings coursed through his being. Fear, from the memory, anger from the event in itself, and resignation from knowing his fate, and recognition of the inevitability. He simply exhaled - sending a silent prayer for the stars to protect his wolf, protect his mate, protect Peter - and opened his arms, his body now vulnerable and at the mercy of Claudia's murderer. The man grinned, wild and ugly, lifting his weapon, before several howls sounded from several directions. The man jumped and dropped the weapon and Stiles merely stood there, waiting patiently for the man to gather his wits and reach his goal, as Stiles knew he wouldn't be quick enough were he to flee now. The howling, however, did not cease. In fact they were closing in, surrounding him and his murderer-to-be.

In a second, he was shielded by a familiar body, and clutched him tight, as though he would disappear. He could not see past his shield, but he could hear the screaming, and the sounds of flesh tearing, blood spurting and spraying, the sound of bones snapping, cracking, breaking as limbs are torn from each other. Only when silence fell, was he startled from his trance by a gentle touch to his fingers. And at once he broke down, sobbing tears of relief as his knees buckled beneath his weight, his body only held up by the strong arms of his love, his protector, his Peter.

The Alpha, Derek, was at their side in an instant, followed by his right hand and sister, Cora. One by one, the members of his pack surrounded him once more, regarding him silently. And when, at last, he smiled, a chorus of joyous howls broke the quiet. A flaming arrow was released into the air by a grinning Allison.

These photos give me Ballet dancer Peter Hale, renowned for his different styles and career before an accident had him turning to teaching.

In my mind, he’s a little like Ido (check out Matthew and Ido on Facebook, they are hilarious together)

Snarky but amusing and not afraid to make his students laugh, he looks strict at times as he walks around the room, but Peter knows just how to push enough for students to reach their bests without pushing too far.

"Stilinski... I heard about that picture. Well, I should say I got texted that picture.

"Gotta say... Nice rump, Kid."

"Feel free to keep it cause you're not seeing that beaut' again for a long, long time." Stiles winks and shoots the oldest Hale a wave. "Thanks though - I'm sure you've seen a lotta ass in your day."