Chapter Text
Stiles sucked in breath as Peter tightened his hand in his dominant hand, and cursed Theo Raeken’s name under his breath. Although they were bonded together, Peter’s own dominant hand seemed fine thanks to his werewolf healing powers. He himself unfortunately did not inherit that ability, as nice as it would have been.
Currently, they were now hidden away in the secret root cellar that Peter had decided to disclose personally. Though, it wasn’t really the biggest surprise in the world. He was known to keep secrets, and this eerily similar lair was just the one underneath the stupid tree. He could only hope this one didn’t bury them alive.
Peter had diagnosed it as broken, possibly fractured or shattered. While the idea of going to the hospital to actually get it taken care of had crossed his mind, immediately he’d decided against it. Melissa was bound to see him, and he knew she wouldn’t let him leave like that. He’d be unable to ignore her, not like he’d been able to do with everything else.
Stiles could physically see the black trendles traveling up through Peter’s veins. Although he’d seen it multiple times on others and his own arm, this time he was actually more invested watching it. The black substance was the physical manifestation of his own pain, and Peter was absorbing it all.
Scott and Derek had always had their own pained expression, but Peter’s face was stoic. He'd always thought that when they took away the pain, just maybe they also unknowingly were consuming the feelings of that pain. But, maybe he was wrong this time.
“You can stop now, it doesn't h—” Stiles cut himself with an agonizing cry of pain. If not for the already strong grip, gripping on tightly, he would have already wretched his hand away from him. “God, you didn't give two shits earlier.”
“I didn’t, but I can’t have you giving off the smell of a little animal dying.” Peter shrugged, concentrating without a flicker of emotion crossing his face.
“Fine. It does, hurt. But, it’s okay. You don’t have to do that. I mean, doesn’t it hurt you to do this?” Stiles interrogated, having seen both Scott and Derek before in different states when they absorbed pain.
“I’m not human.”
Stiles blinked, wondering why he was stating the obvious and avoiding his question. “Yeah, but you can still feel pain. Even if you’re not showing it, I know it must do something to you inside.”
“Pain makes you human, and I figure you should want to feel something like that after the last couple of days.” Peter rolled his eyes. “After all, I just killed an annoying, pompous little hybrid animal for you, when I do things like this you’re all after me for what a terrible person I am.”
Stiles was about to argue with him, but stopped himself because it was true. Peter wasn’t a nice person, and there wasn’t really anything he could say to make it feel like he was. Sure, he’d comforted him at one point, was doing this, but it wasn’t for him. Everything Peter did was for his own gain. “Okay, I get what you’re saying, you’re not a nice person.”
“Glad we’ve established that, and you’ve talked enough to make this go quicker. It’s healed, not entirely, but good enough for right now.” Peter carefully wrapped his hand in bandages that he’d found in a first-aid kit, tucked away in the backseat of the truck.
“Thanks, I think.” Stiles ignored the hold that had disappeared from his hand, and made it a point to tell himself he hadn’t just liked the idea of Peter holding his hand. Nope, it was probably just the comfort seeking emotion inside of him.
Looking to Peter’s hands that were working with cleaning up the mess he’d made looking for the bandages, Stiles wondered for a minute if Peter’s hand was actually alright. Sure, Peter healed faster, but Theo had relatively been dead for forty minutes.
Reaching over to grab it, he pursed his lips when the wolf hid it quickly behind his back. “Peter, let me see.” He sighed, and reached forward with his left hand, wrapping his hand around Peter’s wrist. The second his hand was gripping lightly onto Peter’s wrist, his back immediately met the wall of the root cellar.
Peter had him pinned to the wall of the root cellar, glowering at him threateningly. “Let go, If not, I will bite your hand off.”
Ignoring the threatening gaze and words above him, he figured he had nothing to lose really. Looking it over calmly, he gently brushed his fingers along the bruises covering it. “Sorry, you’re taking care of me, even though you really don’t want to be taking care of me.”
Glancing upwards, it looked like Peter seemed to relax, and the weight that pinned him to the wall eased up just a little. Stiles quietly compared their right hands together, noting the bruises in the exact places, but his own was still definitely more battered. “Does it hurt?”
Peter rolled his eyes, and pulled his hand back, Stiles didn’t try to argue with him as he watched him head for the entrance of the root cellar. He’d gotten what he wanted, and now Stiles did kind of a feel bad for being the cause of his hand bruising like that, even if he could heal rapidly.
Pushing open the cellar door, Stiles watched as Peter dramatically decided to jump straight out of the root cellar which was a good height all by itself. “I’m not human, but you’re my human Stiles. It means that I’m going to be caring you until I see no more use.” He commented.
Stiles’ face entirely dropped, and walked over to where Peter stood seconds ago. Shaking his head, he began to carefully climb the steps up to follow Peter. “Yeah, like I told the guy that’s now dead, dramatics don’t suit you, just like nudity didn’t suit him.”
They’ve been on the road already for about two hours, and Stiles feels so relieved to finally be out of Beacon Hills. He knows what he’s doing is stupid, insensitive, and he’s probably left open wounds over the last couple of days in the people who care about him. Maybe, one day he’ll actually apologize.
He’s leaving everything behind, and small pain feels his heart realizing that he’s left the one thing he promised to never abandon. Roscoe, his old bruised and battered Jeep is sitting inside of the storage along with everything else Peter helped him store. The payments for the storage will automatically be withdrawn from a bank account that holds the money he received for the house.
He gave up everything for revenge, and the only thing Stiles wishes he would have done differently was put a bullet of wolfsbane through Theo’s head the moment that he stepped into town. He should have trusted his gut, but reluctantly he let himself fade into the background.
Glancing over to Peter, it’s settling in a little more now that he’s going to be with him probably until the man eventually gets tired of him. But, that plan will backfire because of the bond. From what he knows, there isn’t any sort of reversal to this all. It’s entirely permanent.
“Do you have an idea of where we’re going?” Stiles asked him, and didn’t expect for Peter to actually answer him.
Peter tapped his fingers against the steering wheel, “I figured some place with no supernatural creatures, out of California.”
Stiles wonders if he could be just a little more specific, but guesses that is better than nothing.
“Scared?” Peters asked, clear amusement in his tone.
“No, you’ve seen what I should be scared of. The idea of a new town isn’t.” Stiles points out, pulling his pillow out from behind his head to lay it half on the window.
“Well, you’re not wrong. Make sure that door is locked, we don’t need you accidentally falling out and killing yourself.”
Stiles sheepishly flushes, and reaches underneath his pillow to push down the lock. With his luck, he probably would accidentally fall out.
The next thirty minutes that pass are in complete silence. The lights of other cars traveling down the same road sometimes illuminate the darkness when they pass them by, and every now and then he sees Peter’s eyes instead of just nothing. He’s never been scared of the dark, and the Nogitsune wasn’t able to scare him to the point of fearing it either.
Closing his eyes, Stiles lets the sound of silence lull him to sleep. He listens to Peter’s fingers that gently tap against the steering wheel every minute or so, and that’s enough for the darkness to drag him under.
When he wakes though, he’s lying atop of a lumpy, uncomfortable mattress in an unidentified room. Panic is quick to set in, but subsides when he sees Peter is lying behind him, looking to be asleep.
Sighing, he moves quietly to lie back down despite knowing that Peter’s ears are very good at catching everything. “Sorry, did I wake you?”
“You didn’t, I’d never sleep in a dump like this.” Peter comments, opening his eyes.
“So, why did we stop then?” Stiles asks, and rolled over onto his stomach.
“You needed the sleep, and you’re not small enough to curl up in the front seat like that.” Peter smirks.
“I could have just dealt with it, you could have kept on driving instead of bringing me to get some sleep. Be careful, one might think you actually care about me.” Stiles smiled, and reached out in front of him to stop the oncoming hand to the face he’s already predicted from Peter.
Peter simply grasps Stiles’ hand, gently guiding it down. With his fully healed once, he places it atop of Stiles’ head and gently rubs. “Ulterior motives are my specialty, and you were more appealing when you slept.”
“You want me, don't deny it.” Stiles yawns, and rolls his body over to where his back is against the wolves chest.
“I already own you, I don’t need to want.” Peter clarifies, and releases the hand he’s still holding, to possessively hold the boy.
Within the next couple of minutes, Peter is listening as Stiles falls right back into sleep.
Quietly observing him, Peter scolds himself for letting the human out of everyone in. But, his human isn't just any human. He's curious, observant, and too smart for his own good.
Peter knows he is never letting Stiles go.