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“Honey! Darling!” Peter calls with a smile.
“If you call me honey one more time Hale, I’ll put a knife in your-”
“ -sweetums! I found us two seats together!” Peter can hear Chris’ unimpressed grumblings all the way over from the other side of the movie theatre. His smile gets broader as quite a few people start staring at him and Chris due to all the drama, and Chris turns a delightfully pink shade of blush. The hunter hates it, and it does nothing but make Peter want to act up.
“Did you have to make such a- what the hell?”
“Darling,” Peter smirks, after planting a kiss on the side of Chris’ mouth, “these delightful women moved up for us so we can sit together.” Peter turns away to his little audience of thirtysomething ‘yummy mummies’, “his eyesight isn’t what it was, it’s why we need something at the front.”
“No matter!” Smiles a dark bob cut with a navy sweater, “The more the merrier.”
Peter turns around to Chris and smiles in triumph, enjoying the way the man still looks like he just wants to sink through the floor.
“What’s your names?” Says a leggy blonde with bad bangs.
“I’m Peter,” he answers, “and this is my husband Ru-”
“Ryan!” Chris pretty much shouts, clearly desperate to get some say in the charade. It’s a shame, Peter had looked forward to calling him Rupert.
“How nice,” replies the dark bob. Going on to name the group of women she is with. The two at the end they already know. Meredith and Rose. The two they suspects are wiccans and the cause of supernatural drama that he and Chris have been investigating.
The credits begin and Chris pulls them down into the seats, his arm pinching Peter’s. It’s hard enough that Peter would bruise if he could.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing Peter ?” Chris at least knows that he can keep his voice incredibly low without worry that Peter will miss what he is saying. This is not their first recon mission, and it is definitely not Chris’ first experience talking to werewolves.
Peter smiles at him, all smirk and mischief. The hunter’s misery is like candy. He leans forward so he can whisper in Chris’ ear, his hand on the man’s chest and his voice close. “Making friends.”
“And why exactly aren’t we sticking to the plan?”
“Because I heard Rose inviting them back to her house after the movie. And I wanted us invited.”
Chris’ lips pinch. He’s unhappy but he approves of the plan all the same, Peter can tell.
“And just why did I have to have a different name?”
“Because since when did I ever make your life easy Argent?”
He gives Chris an overly affection head bump to the cheek, and then sits back in his chair so he can talk again to bob cut. Or as she’s generally called: Jennie.
By the time the film is over Peter is best friends with three of them, and made dates with another two. Even Rose ‘call me Rosie’ seems smitten. This is easy for Peter, he loves women. They always were much more fun than men. More willing to see Peter’s playfulness as an endearing than a threat akin to most of the men he knew. It helped that Chris couldn’t stand it. Stuck out on the end, unable able to drudge up the same easy camaraderie. Too embarrassed to laugh loud, throw popcorn at the screen, and boo when the nasty piece of work ex boyfriend turns up on screen.
Peter loves being good at things when there’s someone around to be better than. And that’s doubly true when it’s Argent to show off to.
By the time they are climbing into the car to follow the others back to Rosie’s house Chris is positively stewing.
“Do you have to be so…”
“Good at this?”
“I was going to say obnoxious.”
Peter rolls his eyes, “funny how you think making friends is so offensive. Really speaks to your personality.”
“You’re lying to them Peter, you’re not their friends.”
Peter rolls his eyes again, “you’re such an old man. Lying is half the fun, you need to learn to live a little, sweetums .”
Chris’ jaw ticks at he turns the steering wheel (Chris refuses to get in a car that Peter is driving) and Peter is again struck with the thought that Chris would make a magnificent wolf. So much control and repressed anger locked away in little mannerisms. Letting it all out would be a hell of a sight… If it wasn’t for all the self hatred and suicidal urges that would probably come with it. Chris really did have a habit of ruining all his enjoyable ideas.
“What’s your plan?”
“The usual, mingle. Have fun. Poke around to see if anything witchy is about. There’s no way she’s practicing magic and I won’t catch a taste of it in the house.”
Chris nods, letting his grip on the wheel loosen a little. Good old Argent, as long as there’s a plan, a higher cause, he can get his head around using people. As long as he isn’t enjoying it. That’s what he hates most about Peter, the fun of the hunt.
It’s not as easy to poke around as they hoped. The house is big, and for the first few hours everyone is in the livingroom. Unfortunately there’s a toilet just opposite them, so even the excuse of nipping to the loo doesn’t get them far.
Peter drinks, unworried about getting drunk. Makes cocktails and encourages everyone to some impromptu wine tasting. Chris sulks in the corner, playing the role of dutifully sober driver.
Peter can’t help but notice that Chris spends a lot more time watching him than he does the other occupants of the room. At first he assumes that Chris is just keeping his eyes on the biggest threat. Typical hunter. But he begins to realise that the more other people love him: laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, flirt with him, the more Chris watches. Peter wonders if he’s jealous, probably not for Peter (although.. All that underlying sexual tension has to burst one day …) but more because of him. Chris has becomes more awkward in his age, no longer with his little entourage of hunters and happy family. The man has become more and more isolated, cut off from his power base. It must rankle him how easy Peter finds this.
By the late evening everyone is quite sloshed, and Peter wanders over to Chris’ chair.
“Done?” Chris asks, annoyed.
“Just starting,” he says with a smirk, taking Chris’ arm and winking at whoever is looking at them.
He takes Chris upstairs and begins opening up doors, looking for traces of wicca. Chris follows him about dutifully, at least here deferring to Peter’s abilities. Peter opens a few cupboards, finds the woman’s box of sex toys, and her sexy lingerie. (Chris is not pleased). In the next room discovers nothing but a dull study. The bathroom and nursery are also losses, and then there’s only the spare bedroom. He walks in and sits on the bed, shrugging, “like I thought, no wicca.”
“What do you mean: like you thought? ”
“I couldn’t scent anything from downstairs, and normally wicca is strong enough to permeate the whole house.”
“Hale! I do not want to hear that we have been wasting our time!”
“We didn’t waste our time, we found out lots of stuff.” Peter gets up into Chris’ personal space, he loves seeing the man get angry. The war between suppressing the violence or letting it out. It’s his favourite game to play.
“Like what?”
“Oh, you know… Like how Rosie has known Claire and Mandy for years. They all went to highschool together. They picked up Jennie through work, and Elise through mothers and toddlers yoga.” He’s playing with Chris’ shirt, enjoying the way the man’s skin is burning hot with frustration. “Meredith though… No one can really remember how they met. They love her though. She always brings the best food . Gives the best advice. In fact… None of them can imagine living without her.”
“It’s Meredith then.” Chris snaps.
“Probably, she left two hours ago.”
“I saw.”
“We’ll probably need to wait until the new moon until she contacts her actual covan.”
“Indeed.”
“So, everything worked out. And I got to have fun, honey. ”
Chris snaps and pushes Peter back against the wall. A thump of fourteen stone werewolf hitting plaster. He puts his hand around Peter’s throat, “you’re a piece of shit Hale, you know that?”
“I know-”
Chris squeezes his throat, “everything you do is a fucking lie. Another way just to mess with someone. It makes me sick. You never think of anyone but yourself.”
“That’s not strictly true.”
“Oh yeah? You lie for other people too?”
“Sometimes. Like right now, I let you pretend that you can pin me to this wall, and I couldn’t get out of it in a second.”
“Why don’t you just try it Hale.”
“It makes you feel good,” Peter can’t help but stare at Chris’ lips. They’re so close. What was that about underlying sexual tension… Chris’ scent a caustic mix of anger, rages and lust. It is like ambrosia to Peter. “You felt powerful when you put down wolves… Did you and Victoria go home and fuck in celebration every time you killed one?”
Chris growled, it was gorgeous. Peter imagines him again as a wolf, a beast. Something dangerous and unstoppable. They’d be able to have the fight the two of them always itched for under the skin, without the concern that Peter would gut Argent.
“You shut your mouth about my wife.”
“Dead wife. It’s a shame I wasn’t there, I’d have fucked you in celebration.”
Chris snapped, there was a small wolfsbane knife on his belt. Nothing strong enough to poison, but enough that it’d hurt going in. And it did, when Chris stuck the trailing point blade into his kidney and dragged down.
Peter closed his eyes and whined. In pain, in pleasure from seeing Chris’ anger, in remorse that he couldn’t throw Chris down and rip his throat out.
The next second however, the door began to open.
They didn’t have much recourse to do but get closer. Chris’ shameful erection pushing against Peter’s thigh as he uses his frame to block the knife and blood.
“Oh!” Cooed Rose, “sorry! I was just worried where you got to.”
Chris was frozen. A mixture of shame for forgetting himself and being caught in such a way.
“Sorry dear,” Peter said with a laugh, “had a bit too much to drink and dragged him up here to celebrate.”
“Don’t mind me! This is why we have a guest room!” Rosie said with a laugh, “maybe make use of the lock though.”
They both stay still for a second, silence but for the sound of Rosie’s sling back heels clicking back down the hall. After the moment Chris goes to retrieve the knife for Peter’s gut.
Peter smiles at him, all teeth, “don’t you want to keep hurting me?”
Chris takes out the knife but pushes his thumb into the wound. “Yeah, I do.”
Peter bites him. Softer than he wants. The wrong kind of teeth from what he wants. But on the jaw all the same. Chris moans in return and thrusts his cock against Peter desperately. The smell of sex and blood is so heavy in the room Peter feels drunk with it.
He brings up Chris’ bloody hand licks it clean. Sucking on the digits, his sharp real teeth threatening the soft fingers. Chris uses his free hand to cup Peter’s cock, squeezing it. Less in an attempt to give pleasure, more to ensure that this is an equal playing field. That Peter is just as eager for it.
Peter is, fucking hell he is.
His wound is already healed, but his stomach is still damp with blood, when he dives in to retrieve Chris’ hard prick from the man’s trousers, it slides across the slick surface.
“ Fuck .” Chris cries, his hand leaving Peter’s mouth and returning to Peter’s throat, but only to bring their foreheads together. He looks deep, maddeningly deep, into Peter’s eyes. Anger, lust, a slice of revulsion, and so much pleasure, marring his features. He keeps thrusting, more erratically now.
Peter brings out his own cock, coupling the two erections together. Eased by the dampness and the slick of their precum. He’s so hopped up it’s painful. Peter doesn’t move his eyes from Chris’ even as he becomes undone. Gripping his prick harder to rut through his climax. Pleasure rippling through him. Chris looks mesmerized. His eyes eating up every feeling Peter gives him.
Peter is panting, “do you feel powerful, Chris?” His voice is wrecked.
Chris bites him. Vicious, and on the jaw. An answer to the bite Peter gave him before. Cumming messily in Peter’s hand and into his bloody shirt.
They both pant through the aftermath. The room smells even more like sex, and it’s quiet again now that the action is over.
Peter isn’t sure how to play this. He knows how he wants to play it. He wants to rile Chris up again, cover the intensity of the moment with his own brand of humour. But he’s also curious as to what Chris will do if left alone to smart over what has happened. If he’s unable to flinch away in anger.
The man mostly looks confused. Like he’s not completely sure what just happened. It’s a feeling that Peter echoes.
Finally, he steps away. “You’re a piece of shit Hale,” he spits. Unoriginal, his heart racing a mile a minute. He doesn’t have as much conviction as normal, but Peter rolls his eyes all the same. He shouldn’t have expected more from the hunter.
“Charming.”
They slip out the house. Peter has Rosie’s number and texts her saying that they needed to get home to clean up. He doubted she expected to see him again that night. The rest of the girls probably know already what they went upstairs for. Well… Not what they really went upstairs for, but what happened all the same.
The car journey home is quiet. Peter is still unsure how he wants to play this. Chris is smarting for a fight, at one point he thinks Chris is disappointed he isn’t saying anything. Disappointed that he isn’t playing the antagonist that Chris can rile against.
Not this time hunter, your hands are just as bloody as mine.
There is a lot of blood still, they look like the murdered a box of kittens between them.
When Chris pulls up outside Peter’s apartment they still haven’t said anything. Peter is already residing to chalk this up to a strange aberration that he can now bring up as an ace in an argument, because Chris is clearly so mortified it happened that he’s been struck dumb.
In an attempt to mock him he leans of an plants a kiss on the side of Chris’ mouth, like he did at the beginning of the night. Chris flinches, before grabbing the back of his head and responding with a deeper kiss.
Peter hadn’t expected it, but enjoys the play of their wills as they jibe for control. Kissing Chris is like fighting. His blood already feels hot again.
Finally when they lean back for air he looks in Chris’ eyes he sees that confused look again. It’s annoying.
“Good night Argent.” He says, rolling his eyes.
“Hale - Peter - wait. ”
Peter stops, getting frustrated when he’s met with silence.
“You can stop beating yourself up about this Chris. We fucked, you lost control for a second. It was glorious and out of character. You can go back to your will of steel persona now if you want to.”
The jaw tick comes back.
“You’re really… Fucking annoying, you know that Hale?”
“It does the job.”
“Yeah.”
More silence.
And then, “tomorrow. Come around tomorrow. Bring beer, something you can drink too.”
Peter wasn’t expecting this.
“Is that you asking me out on a date Argent?”
“Get the fuck out my car Hale… And let me go to bed. But yeah, something like that.”
Peter kisses him again, “whatever you say honeybun.”