#wolf!peter

I’m low-key thinking of making this a long fic from Stiles’ perspective. 

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The wolf doesn’t know where he is or where he is meant tobe.  He just remembers waking up in the colddirt and needing to run; escape from the overwhelming feeling of betrayalpainmesery that had been clingingto the house and the limp body on the floor. So he ran and kept running untilhe could no longer smell the decay and rot that surrounded that place.

He knows something isn’t right with him, that something ismissing on the inside, but he doesn’t know what it is or what to do to fix it.Instead he finds a place to rest for the night and keeps an ear out for anydangers lurking between the trees. It’s in the early morning, before the sunhas fully woken, that he smells the body again. The wolf runs again.

In the next couple of days it almost becomes a game to him,only it’s a game he can’t let himself lose. He keeps finding small andridiculous places to rest and waits in almost giddy excitement for the body tocome and try to find his hiding hole. There have been a few times that the wolfhas made fake trails in order to double back around and stalk after the person.It’s during one of these times that he catches a scent that makes his heartleap in his chest.

He may not be able to feelthe bonds, but the wolf would know the smell of pack anywhere and this is it.It’s a sweet smell that wraps around his whole body and cocoons him in ablanket of warmhomesafe. The wolfpeers around to make sure the person is preoccupied; he is with his foot stuckin one of the hidden holes, before he chases after the scent.

The pack scent leads him around the small town that bordersthe forest that the wolf has been staying in. He travels to a few differenthouses first before he manages to find the rightone; the one with a tree in the backyard that easily reaches the bedroomwindow. He lets out a happy ‘yip’ as he settles onto the soft bed, prepared towait for his pack to return.

He’s just falling into a light slumber when he smells them;one of them producing the warmhomesafesmell while the other one smells similar, but also warped and wrong. Not quitepack, but close to it. The wolf turns his lazy gaze toward the door and let’shis tail gently thump against the pillow in excitement.

“Night, Dad.”

He watches with rapt attention as the man boyjuvenile steps into the room and closes the door behind him. He doesn’t seem tonotice the wolf in the room as he strips off a ridiculously red jacket and tossit toward a pile of dirty clothes. He makes it walkway toward the bed before henotices that something is wrong; he lets out a startled yelp and races backtoward the door to flick on the light and bathing them both in the artificial light.

The pair stare at each other in silence. The wolf wants torace toward the boy, he decided on boy because no juvenile could be so naiveabout their surroundings, but he can smell the fear wafting off of him and hearhis heartbeat doubling. The wolf whines and it seems to snap the boy out of histrance.

“What the fuck?” He takes a few hesitated steps forward. “Whyis this not the weirdest thing that’s happened to me tonight? Pffft. If this happeneda year ago I’d probably piss myself, but now? Now I just kind of want you tomove over so I can sleep.”

The wolf watches as the boy steps closer and has his ownwide, brown eyes staring at the open spot next to him. He lets out a huff, butrearranges himself so that the boy has room to rest next to him.

“Why do I get the feeling you can understand me?” His boygasps. “You caaaaan. Ohhhhhh,  I wonderwho you are under there. You’re not going to bite me, right?”

His boy sits with his back against the headboard and eyestrained on him; he rests his head on his boys long legs and lets his tail thumpgleefully. His boy brings his hand up and lets it hover above his head for amoment before letting it fall and pet at his fur.

“Ohmygod. You’re so soft,” he scrunches up his nose as helifts his hand back up. “And dirty. I’m going to have to wash my sheetstomorrow.”

The wolf lets out a small growl and closes his eyes; he’smore than ready to finally get some real rest as the pack warmhomesafe and protectprotectedprotectprotected washes over him.The something wrong with him feeling that he first had has been replaced withthis. The hand caressing his fur and the fierce need to keep is boy safe fillshim up until there’s no more room for the ugly emptiness that was there previously.

His boy gently tugs at one of his ears. “Don’t think you’reoff the hook just yet, Creeperwolf. We’ll be talking about this later.”

Panic rushes through the wolf Peter as the words seemto click something inside of him. Memories rush forward, but everything is ablur of colors and shapes. The only solid thing is the pain that seems to beburning over every inch of him and his boy Stiles standing before himwith his Bambi eyes filled with malice.

“Hey shh, shh. It’s alright.” Peter wasn’t aware that he wasmaking a noise, but now he can hear the whines and whimpers escaping from histhroat. Stiles rearranges them so that he’s on his side and curling almost protectivelyaround Peter. “It’s okay. I gotcha.”

It was undeniably colder in Northern California than down south. But even so, they didn’t get snow very often in Beacon Hills. Maybe a few days out of the months long winter, and it would never say that long. Which was why when Stiles was woke up to snow for the first time all year, he was excited. He jumped up and out of bed as soon as he realized what tha strange muffled not-sound was, starting his wolf who was curled up beside him. Mr. Wolf picked him head up and watched as Stiles pressed his hands and face against the glass, looking out at the powdery white landscape.

“It’s so pretty,” Stiles said with all the tireless, childlike glee that came from seeing snow.

Eventually Stiles pulled himself away from the window and went to his dad’s room, Mr. Wolf reluctantly getting up off the bed and padding after him with quiet steps. “Dad,” Stiles whisper-yelled as he pushed open the door enough to lean through. “Dad, you gotta wake up and come see this. It’s snowing. Dad, come on.” Stiles walked over and nudged John, shaking his shoulder with both hands until his dad finally came to with a groan, swatting at Stiles’ hands.

“What, kiddo?” John asked around a yawn. Stiles smiled brightly and grabbed his hand, pulling on it, trying to drag John out of bed.

“It’s snowing! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!”

“Oh alright,” John sighed. He shared a look with the wolf, a silent agreement that neither of them wanted to get up, but they would for Stiles if it would make the boy happy. John got up, popped his back, then let Stiles lead him out of the room, down the stairs, and out onto the porch so that they could look out at the snow.

It was peaceful. The kind of peace that only came from heavy snow cover. Like the world stood still, quiet. It was because the snow muffled sound, John new, but it made something in Stiles seem calmer as well. Or maybe that had something to do with Mr. Wolf sitting beside him, leaning heavily into his side while Stiles leaned into John.

“It’s pretty,” Stiles whispered, like he didn’t want to disrupt the scene.

‘Yeah, it is.”

They stood there for as long as they could stand the cold (only a couple of minutes sadly) before going inside. John went to start breakfast, while Stiles dutifully got down mugs to make hot chocolate for them both.

Shortly after breakfast (which Mr. Wolf was included in because he was picky, and refused to eat dog food) John’s phone rang. He went upstairs to answer it, and when he came downstairs, he had a solemn look on his face.

“What’s wrong?” Stiles asked, hands going to Mr. Wolf’s fur. Holding onto it, carding his fingers through the coarse-but-soft strands, centered him even as he felt his worry beginning.

“I’m afraid… school was cancelled,” John said, shaking his head seriously. Then he cracked a grin and Stiles grinned right back, jumping in excitement.

“Snow day!”

“C’mon, why don’t we get into something warmer and we can go play outside for a while, maybe go for a walk.” Mr. Wolf would, of course, be joining them.