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The Stray
Every one of the kids was talking at once, making Peter’s sensitive ears ring, and he didn’t even have the hands to cover his ears. After the latest group of hunters came through town, which was ultimately uneventful, Peter found himself stuck in full shift. Some stupid witch, who had decided that working with the hunters would benefit her, had done… something, Peter was unable to shift out of his wolf.
It had been years since he had been able to shift to his wolf to begin with, so the fact that he was stuck was a very weird experience.
The kids were all talking over each other, because they were trying to figure out who was taking care of him. If he could talk, he would tell them all he was fine, thank you very much, but, like the lack of hands, he was just at their mercy.
“Absolutely not! Derek, he’s your uncle, you deal with him!” Stiles shouted over everyone.
“For the last time, I have to leave in a couple days, and I am not taking him with me. Stiles, just take him home,” Derek said flatly, with no room for arguments.
“How? My dad doesn’t know about this shit, and we’ve all agreed I shouldn’t get him involved, so what am I going to say?” Stiles asked, of course still arguing despite Derek’s tone.
“Tell him you found a stray dog,” Scott offered.
“Yeah, that’ll go over super great,” Stiles said, voice dripping in sarcasm.
Sadly, for Stiles, it was a losing battle arguing with everyone, especially since most of the pack had slipped away, back to their cars. Stiles eventually sighs, plopping down on the burnt porch. Derek and Scott had left as well, leaving Stiles alone with Peter at the remains of the Hale house.
“Okaaayy. So… I’m just going to tell my dad that I found you outside on the side of the road and decided to bring you home. So just… act like a normal dog, okay? And if my dad refuses… I don’t know what we’ll do, but we’ll figure it out. Okay? Do… anything if that works for you,” Stiles babbled, looking expectantly at Peter.
Peter didn’t feel like playing along, he actually felt like walking away from Stiles and trying to figure out how to break into his apartment as a dog, but Stiles seemed stressed enough… And Stiles had always been Peter’s favorite. So, for Stiles’ sake, Peter just placed his front paw on Stiles’ leg to show that he understood, before walking towards the jeep.
“Oh, thank god,” Stiles sighed loudly. “My dad is going to be difficult enough so, thanks for cooperating.”
As they drove off, Peter realized that he had actually never met Stiles’ father. Or at least, not at a time that he would remember. From what Stiles has said, the man seemed busy, but Stiles spoke of him fondly, so he assumed they had a good relationship. And Peter had seen the man around town and had definitely heard plenty of people talk about the man. He was popular around town, which made Peter very… curious. He supposed if he can’t get anything positive out of this experience, he could at least learn a little bit more about Beacon County’s Sheriff.
Couldn’t hurt.
When they pulled into the driveway, there was a Sheriff’s cruiser already parked there.
“Oh, fuck,” Stiles mumbled. “I was hoping that he wouldn’t be home… Alright, just be… cute, I guess. I don’t know, this is going to be a disaster.”
Peter jumped out of the car when Stiles opened the passenger door, waiting for Stiles to lead the way. The TV was on when they walked in, the volume soft, playing some football game, but there was no one sitting in the living room.
“Hey Dad!” Stiles greeted, kicking his shoes off and throwing his backpack to the side.
“Hey, kid! I’m in the kitchen!”
Stiles signaled for Peter to wait as he walked into the kitchen. Peter could hear them talking about mundane things, Stiles’ heart racing.
“You hungry? We could order some Chinese?” Stiles’ dad asked, footsteps approaching the living room.
“Uh yeah sure! But uh, can I talk to you about something Dad?” Stiles said quickly.
The footsteps stopped.
“Yeah of course, you okay?”
“Yeah! Totally fine, totally fine.”
“You… sure? You’re acting really squirrelly. Or I guess more than you usually are,” the man chuckled a little bit.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m weird. It’s your genes to blame though, so I don’t want to hear it.”
“Stiles, you can’t put the blame on me for this, that is 1000% your grandma, I mean she was-”
The Sheriff stopped mid-sentence, having begun walking back into the living room, and immediately seeing Peter.
“Stiles.”
His name wasn’t a question, it was just a very, very short statement. Stiles appeared next to his dad, both of them staring at Peter.
“Yeah dad?” Stiles asked, his face a mask of innocence.
The Sheriff was just a little shorter than his son, with sandy blonde hair and bright blue eyes, which were a bit squinted in the man’s confusion. He was dressed casually, not wearing the police uniform; instead, he was in plaid pajama pants and a faded sweatshirt. The look on his face was equal parts confused and intimidating, making Peter nervous, despite being a wolf in that moment and not this man’s kid.
“Stiles,” the man said, sharper this time.
“John,” Stiles said back, mimicking his father’s tone.
All John had to do was give his son a look and Stiles crumbled.
“I found him!”
“You found him? Stiles, that is a wolf!”
“He’s not a wolf! I think he’s like a husky or something. He’s super friendly!” Stiles insisted.
“I don’t care how friendly he is! That is not someone’s dog, he has to be feral!”
“Dad, I promise he’s just a lost dog. Like I said, he’s super friendly,” Stiles said a little more forcefully, giving Peter sideways glances.
Oh, right, the cute thing.
Peter walked up to the Sheriff, nudging the man’s hand with his nose. John looks at Peter for a moment, the anger dissipating slightly, before scratching behind Peter’s ear.
“Stiles… we can’t keep him,” John insisted, despite the scratching not stopping.
“Please? Just until I can find someone to take him. You know the shelter in town is shit!”
“Language,” John warned, but all the anger and bite was gone from his tone.
“I’ll take care of him! I’ll get the food, keep an eye on him, everything.”
John sighed.
“He is pretty cute…” John said.
Peter sat down, leaning against John’s legs. He was trying to play up the cute thing, but he also couldn’t deny that the attention and pets felt nice.
“Fine, he can stay for a little bit. I’ll buy the first bag of food, but you need to give him a bath, God only knows where he’s been. And you’re responsible for him, if he chews anything up, it’s your fault. Okay?”
“Yes sir!” Stiles grinned broadly, hopping on his toes a little bit.
The Sheriff disappeared upstairs for a moment, returning after having changed into jeans and having put on shoes. He told Stiles he was going to go get food, for both them and Peter. When the front door shut, Peter and Stiles waited until the sound of the car drifted away.
“Alright… I am going to have to give you a bath…” Stiles said quietly.
Peter growled softly, standing up and backing away slowly.
“Come on! Please? We just worked so well together; you were so cute! I actually believed for a moment that you can be nice.”
When Stiles went to grab Peter, he moved quickly out of the teen’s reach, causing him to stumble forward.
“Peter, I’m not joking! That was so much easier than I thought it was going to be. My dad wants you to have a bath, can you just work with me a little bit more? I promise not to tell anyone! And I promise to not put a collar on you?”
Peter just sat there for a moment. He really, really was not fond of the idea of a bath… but if Stiles was promising to not tell anyone, and to, God forbid, put a collar on him, he supposes he could allow it. Although… Stiles did seem a little desperate. He could probably get more…
“Okay, okay. I’ll do both of those things, and I’ll… owe you a favor?”
Oh, that could be good.
Stiles seemed to sense that Peter gave in, because he smiled and sighed before he started walking up the stairs. Peter followed closely behind, resigned to his fate.
***
The bath actually wasn’t that bad.
Although Peter would never be admitting that to Stiles.
The kid made it quick, and to be fair, Peter was caked in mud. The wet feeling was a little strange, but it luckily went away pretty quickly, Stiles having tried as hard as he could to get Peter dry.
The food on the other hand? That was disgusting. Peter ate it, because he was starving, but it took several intense looks from Stiles, a gentle order from John, and a lot of protest.
Luckily though… John was apparently a big softy, despite the stern exterior.
All Peter had to do to get bites of the man’s dinner was to lay his head on the man’s lap and stare up at him. Stiles had a lot of trouble holding in his laughter, which John assumed were directed at him, but Peter knew it was at him.
He was going to bite that kid later if it was the last thing he did, but it was all worth it for some real food.
When the two Stilinski’s went to bed, Peter didn’t follow them up the stairs, making himself comfy on the couch.
It was interesting, seeing Stiles away from his friends. He was quieter, less boisterous. Still sarcastic, there was no doubt about it, but it seemed like Stiles was just more… comfortable around his father. Which made sense, but Peter was surprised that he wasn’t like that around Scott at all, the two having been friends for so long. But no, it seems this version of Stiles was reserved exclusively for his father.
Peter thought he was going to have no trouble falling asleep that night, having gone through so much during the day, but he had trouble settling into his new form and settling his mind.
It had been so long since he had been a wolf, that it felt unfamiliar, and a bit uncomfortable. And he didn’t understand why he was able to shift now.
It had happened in that moment.
One of the hunters had gone after Derek from behind, ready to shoot him in the head. Peter had reacted instinctually, fully shifting and attacking the hunter. The witch had retaliated, hitting him with some weird spell before running away.
And now he was stuck.
And there was a storm rolling in.
As cliché as it was, Peter didn’t like storms. Not as a person, not as a wolf. It had been storming the night of the fire, one of those summer storms with thunder and lightning, but no rain. So, the thunder brings back bad memories, and normally on nights like these, he would distract himself. Reading, working, or even finding someone at a bar. But all of his normal coping mechanisms weren’t available to him. A particularly bad clap of thunder propelled him off the couch and into the kitchen.
He paced for a little bit, before heading up the stairs. Both bedroom doors were shut. From Stiles’ room, Peter heard the steady heartbeat and soft snores coming from inside. So, he was a no go. From inside John’s room, he heard shuffling, and there was the faintest light coming from underneath the door. In desperation, he scratched against the door. When no footsteps approached, he scratched a little bit more urgently.
That did the trick.
John opened the door, which Peter pushed through immediately, not waiting for permission, and hopping up onto the bed.
“Woah, okay. I guess you can sleep on the bed, bud.”
John scratched underneath his chin, getting back into bed, leaving the door open enough for Peter to get out if he wanted to. The man had reading glasses on and had picked up a book from the bedside table, opening it back up. Peter moved closer to John, immediately laying his head against the man, curling up in a tight ball.
He normally would not do this. For fucks sake, he just met the man not even five hours ago, but the storm was throwing him even more off kilter than he already was, and he was craving any kind of comfort he could get.
“Don’t like the storm?” John asked quietly.
Peter whined softly, burying his nose into John’s side.
“Here, I’ll read to you.”
Peter drifted off to John’s deep, soft voice reading The Hobbit of all things, one of Peter’s favorites from his childhood. The next thing Peter acknowledged was John getting out of bed, sunlight coming from the top and bottom of the curtains.
Both in his favor and disappointing at the same time, Peter was of course still a wolf. He hadn’t thought about that very much when he had wandered up to John’s room last night, but he’s not sure what he would have done if he transformed back through the night.
Again, he was both lucky and unlucky to still be a wolf that morning.
He followed John downstairs, sticking close to the man as he made his coffee and breakfast. It seemed to be early still, based on the amount of sunlight coming in, and the fact that it sounded like Stiles still hadn’t moved.
The morning was quiet, and Peter just found himself trailing after John. Laying under the kitchen table at John’s feet. Sitting outside the bathroom door. Following John back downstairs for Peter’s breakfast. Wandering only briefly away into the backyard before running back inside. Stiles came down eventually, finding Peter curled up next to John.
“Uh, morning, dad,” Stiles said slowly, confusion in his voice.
“Morning,” John said distractedly, focused on the news playing on the TV.
“So… Scott is working at the vet today, he said that Dr. Deaton agreed to scan the dog and see if he has a chip.”
That got John’s attention.
“Oh yeah? Make sure you say hi to Deaton for me, I haven’t seen him in a while. And behave! Don’t get into anything you shouldn’t.”
“Come on, dad, how could I cause trouble at a veterinarian office?”
John sighed and closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I… honestly don’t even want to imagine. Just, be good, yeah? I’m looking forward to a quiet Saturday.”
Stiles promised before nearly dragging Peter out of the house. Deaton wasn’t exactly Peter’s favorite person… and the visit didn’t exactly help that, as they accomplished absolutely nothing. According to Deaton, he couldn’t figure out what the witch did. That the pack would have to find her to figure it out… in the meantime, his solution was to just have Peter wait it out.
Which definitely pissed Peter off.
He sulked the entire car ride home, barely listening to Stiles’ rambling. When they made it back to the house, Stiles let him in before quickly running off, shouting to his dad that he would be back later.
“So…” John started.
It amused Peter immensely that John had just immediately begun talking to Peter, despite believing that Peter was just a dog.
“I guess it’s just us today, huh boy?”
The day was spent much like the morning. John did mostly… nothing. Which Peter figured made sense, especially considering the number of phone calls the man took through the day, the majority of which would end with: “I’ll look at it on Monday.” The man was clearly very busy during the week, so of course he would want to do nothing. Peter stayed close to John the entire time, never allowing him to wander away too far.
By seven, Stiles had called to let John know he was staying overnight at Scott’s. Peter knew that the kids were trying to track down the witch, and it irritated him that he wasn’t able to help.
Although…
It was nice doing nothing with John.
Peter didn’t want to admit it, but it had been a while since he had just relaxed, especially in the company of someone he didn’t dislike to some degree.
He found the pack exhausting. Not because they were children, or because he inherently hated all of them. No, it was more that they all treated him like he was just going to murder someone at any time. Which was offensive. First of all, he was smarter than that. Second of all, he hadn’t murdered anyone since he had come back from the dead.
He hadn’t been able to contact any of his friends from before the fire, so it wasn’t like he had any actual friends to talk to.
And random women and men from bars just weren’t… substantial.
John was interesting though.
The man was so unphased by everything. Not by his son’s oftentimes erratic behavior. Not by the many calls he received from his deputies on his day off. And not even when his son brought home an actual wolf, claiming it was a lost dog.
He was also intelligent. What made this whole experience bearable was that John liked to fill the silence much like his son: with talking. But the age difference was evident. Stiles was often erratic with his ramblings, but John just seemed to be lazily talking to Peter, sharing whatever came to mind.
It made Peter feel a little… bad. The man was sharing some pretty intimate thoughts with him, making Peter feel like he was invading. Overall, Peter got the feeling that the man was just a little… lonely.
Which Peter could relate to.
It had been so long since he had felt a true, strong pack connection to someone, and after only one full day, he felt a stronger one between him and John than the one between him and Derek, his own family.
All very concerning.
But Peter figured he could think about it more once he was human again.
That evening, when bedtime rolled around, Peter didn’t even pretend that he was going to try to sleep on the couch, following John up to his room and waiting for the man to get comfortable before curling up next to him.
Peter’s next two weeks were spent in a similar fashion.
Stiles would give him a rundown in the mornings before going to school, leaving the TV on for Peter (thank GOD), where Peter would sleep most of the day until John got home, and then he would practically attach himself to the man and follow him around.
He would feel pathetic if he wasn’t enjoying the attention and company so much.
John seemed like he enjoyed it as well. He began inviting Peter into his room at night after the first three nights. And it was easy for the two of them to be in each other’s company, especially since Stiles was just gone most evenings, only coming home by 11 o’clock to sleep. It honestly… It made Peter’s heart hurt a little bit. It made him realize how much of Stiles’ time was consumed with pack business, and seeing John so unsurprised by his son’s absence, it squeezed Peter’s heart in an unfamiliar way.
It just spurred Peter to stay even more glued to the man.
As they approached week three of Peter stuck in shift, Stiles dragged him back to Deaton.
Who was… just as unhelpful as the first time.
“Honestly? Even though the witch is still missing, Peter should be able to shift back by now. No spell from a witch is that powerful. He may just enjoy being in wolf form,” Deaton explained.
If Peter could, he would have loudly protested that no, he did not want to still be a wolf. He enjoyed his human body just fine thank you very much.
“Well… how can we convince him to shift back? It’s getting weird having him in my house,” Stiles complained from where he was leaning heavily on the examination table.
Deaton just stayed silent, staring at Peter.
“What did you say he had been doing at the house all day?” Deaton asked, ignoring Stiles’ question.
“Umm… nothing? I mean, I’m pretty sure he’s glued to my dad whenever he is home but other than that? Nothing,” Stiles explained.
The entire pack wasn’t there that day, it was just Peter, Stiles, Scott, and Derek. It meant the entire thing was a bit more bearable. And a lot less embarrassing.
“If I may suggest…” Deaton began.
Yes, perfect, an actual solution.
“I think Peter may have become too attached to your father. It may speed up the process of him shifting back if he stays with Derek.”
NO.
“Absolutely not,” Derek said flatly.
“Derek, come on. Peter needs to shift back!” Scott finally interjected, nearly pleading with Derek.
“… Fine,” Derek forced out; an intense scowl plastered across his face. “But I’m not putting him in my car, you’ll need to drop him off.”
Peter decided that he had heard enough. As soon as the door to Deaton’s clinic opened, he darted out, running off and away from the shouting voices behind him. It wasn’t that… It wasn’t that Peter was attached to John in any way. No, no. It was that Peter would feel bad about abandoning the guy. He was clearly lonely; Peter couldn’t allow that! It had nothing to do with Peter’s own feelings.
Not at all.
Well… maybe a little bit.
Besides, Deaton’s theory was bullshit. Peter would have shifted back already if he could. He’d much rather be enjoying John’s company as a man and not a damned wolf. He outran the kids very easily, Derek even struggling to keep up. He knew John wouldn’t be at home, so he ran straight to the Sherrif’s station. Even then it wasn’t hard to get in, he just slipped in the door behind one of the deputies.
“Hey! Dog!”
Peter, who had stopped running, picked up the pace a bit, following John’s sent to the man’s office, dodging the many hands trying to grab him.
“Yeah, I can send someone to come take a look, Mrs. Horton. Was there any extensive damage done to your yard or are the gnomes just missing?”
Peter ran up to John’s desk, shoving his snout under the man’s arm. The Sheriff jumped, but he continued his conversation.
“Yes, I’ll send a deputy over right away… I’m very sorry, Mrs. Horton... I know, those kids have been bothering you… Have a great rest of your day.”
John hung up the phone, rolling his chair back to give Peter more room, who quickly scurried under the desk when a deputy ran in.
“Oh, uh, guess you found the dog, Sheriff,” the man said, taking a step back when Peter let out a growl.
“Hey, that was mean,” John said, pulling Peter’s face up to look at him, a stern expression on his face.
Peter whined, giving John kisses in apology.
“Sorry, this is Peter, a stray dog Stiles found several weeks ago. He’s been staying at the house. Although… I have no idea how he got here, Stiles isn’t here, it he?” John asked in confusion.
“No! He followed Adams in the front door. Also… are you sure that’s a dog? He looks like a wolf…”
“Stiles swears Deaton told him he’s a husky mix but… yeah, he looks like a wolf. I have a feeling that someone adopted a wolf mix, dumped the dog aaand now I have a dog,” John laughed, rubbing Peter’s head.
“You’re probably right, there was that breeder that was busted a couple counties over… are you sure he’s friendly? He doesn’t seem to like me…”
Peter growled again when the man got too close, shoving his body into John.
“Usually he’s a love bug, but something might have spooked him… hence why he’s here. I’ll give Stiles a call. Thanks Campbell, sorry about the dog.”
“No worries, Sheriff, you’ll just have to forgive me for… keeping my distance.”
The man all but ran out of the room, shutting it gently behind him. Once enclosed in the Sheriff’s office, Peter relaxed. John gently rubbed Peter’s ears, making little cooing noises at the wolf. Picking up his office phone, John only had to press a few numbers before Peter could hear ringing.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Stiles. You missing something?”
“Ummmm… no??”
“No, nothing furry?” John asked, grinning down at Peter.
“Oh my God! What th… Is Peter with you? He ran home?”
“No, not home… what phone did I call you from?”
“He ran to the STATION?! We were at Deaton’s! I’ll be right over, I am so sorry, Dad. Give me…”
“Listen, it’s all good! He can stay at the station… although if he keeps growling at Campbell, I may have to give you a call to come get him, okay?” John offered.
“…Are you sure? I can come…”
“No, you’re fine, Stiles. You can use this time to figure out how you’re going to tell me the truth about how you found Peter, though.”
“The truth…? I already told you the truth!”
Even through the phone, Peter picked up Stiles’ nervousness. Hell, even Peter was getting a little nervous. Obviously, he knew that they had been acting weird. Stiles shows up with a wolf, insisting it’s a stray dog, and then he starts hanging out at Deaton’s and disappearing most days? Yeah, not normal, even for Stiles and pack business.
Still, Peter hadn’t given much thought to the whole after… once he changed back, what was he going to do? Introduce himself to John saying “oh you’ve never met me before, but I know some very intimate details about your life, like how you shower at night and have been reading a lot of Stephen King recently even though you don’t really like horror movies. Hi, I’m Peter! Want to go on a date?”
Yeah…. No. That would go over so terribly it’s not even funny.
“Yes, the truth Stiles, I know you haven’t told me everything, and when I get home tonight at 6, I expect an explanation,” John said sternly, bringing Peter out of his thoughts.
“Okay, Dad… Sorry.”
“You’re not in trouble, Stiles… yet. Not in trouble yet. I have no idea what you’re going to tell me, so I don’t want to make any promises.”
John sighed as he put the phone back on the console, rubbing his face, looking tired.
“Alright, Peter. You get to stay in the station, but you have to be nice to everyone, okay? No growling, especially at Campbell. I think you’ve terrified the poor man,” John laughed, rubbing Peter’s head.
Spending the day at the station actually wasn’t bad. Although, he stayed distant from the other deputies, refusing to give up his dignity for anyone except John. Campbell had tried to pet him once, and the loud growl Peter let out made the man fall out his chair, causing the other deputies to laugh but also made everyone give Peter the space he wanted. He followed John around as the man practically never sat down during the day, except to make pointless phone calls and hear ridiculous complaints.
When they finally arrived home (and wasn’t that a concerning though, that Peter was considering the Sheriff’s house his home), Peter could smell the intense anxiety coming from Stiles, the nervousness from Scott, and the annoyance from Derek. It didn’t take a mind reader to figure out what truth the three of them had decided to tell John: the actual one.
Peter never really understood why Derek was so against telling the Sheriff. Well… no, he did understand. After the life Derek had, the boy had every right to be distrustful of humans, but John seemed like a good man. Regardless, every time it was brought up, it was always voted that the pack was going to keep the Sheriff in the dark. Guess today was the day Derek lost that vote.
“Alright, who wants to start?” John asked, looking at the three kids sitting in the living room.
***
“So… let me get this straight… Derek is a werewolf whose whole family was killed by hunters in that house fire. And not deer hunters, there’s a whole community of werewolf hunters. And after the fire, Derek’s uncle, Peter, was in a coma, but then he wasn’t, and he bit Scott who is now also a werewolf? And then you all killed Peter who was dead who was then alive who is now the dog that has been sleeping in my bed for the past several weeks?” John asked, looking at Stiles and Scott like they were crazy.
“He’s been sleeping in your bed?” Derek asked where he was sitting on the couch.
“That is absolutely not what you should be focusing on right now!” John shouted. “Stiles, are you really telling me that you’ve been running around the woods with a bunch of supernatural creatures, fighting other werewolves, witches, and people with guns? That’s what you’ve been doing?”
“… Yes,” Stiles admitted quietly.
“Does your mother know about this?” John asked, directing the question to Scott, who just nodded. “Oh! Great! So great! Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s none of your business,” Derek said, but immediately shrunk when John whipped around, his anger directed at Derek.
“It’s none of my business that my son is possibly in danger? I think that’s very much my business. Actually, more importantly, why have you not been taking care of your uncle? Why is it that he’s been at my house this entire time? If you cared so much about me not knowing, why were you risking him shifting back in my house?”
Derek stayed quiet. He had never been good with confrontation, but he especially was not able to argue against points that made sense. Derek just shifted uncomfortably, refusing to meet John’s gaze.
“Alright…” John started, taking a deep breath. “Derek, Scott, please just go home. Stiles, I need a shower, food, and some sleep, and then we can talk again in the morning, okay?”
Derek and Scott got up to leave, before looking between Peter and John, clearly unsure of whether to take Peter with them or not. Peter slunk back behind John, who despite his very stressed state, allowed the movement.
“Peter can stay here, it doesn’t make any difference at this point,” John sighed.
Nodding, the two left quickly, leaving Stiles alone with John.
“Dad, I’m really sorry. I wanted to tell you sooner, I promise,” Stiles whispered, his voice wobbling as tears gathered in his eyes.
“Stiles, I’m not mad. I promise, I just… this is a lot to take in, kid,” John said, pulling Stiles into a tight hug. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.”
They stood there for a while before John pulled away, sending Stiles off to bed. The sigh that came out of John once he was alone in the living room was loud and long. Peter felt like he was intruding in that moment, and he felt unsure of how to act. A week ago, he would have bumped his head against John’s legs, offering him the only comfort he could in this state. Now that John knows Peter isn’t just a dog though, he’s not sure what he should do. Before he could decide anything, John walked up the stairs, leaving Peter actually alone.
He could hear Stiles up in his room, definitely not sleeping, but instead sounded like he was panicking. Peter hurried up the stairs and much like the first night he was there, scratched insistently on the bedroom door. Stiles opened it, allowing Peter inside.
“Hey Peter,” Stiles said miserably, plopping down on his bed. “This is… I mean it went better than I thought it would but that still wasn’t great. We probably should have told him weeks ago… you have been sleeping in his bed. That’s weird, man.”
In retaliation, Peter shoved his cold nose against Stiles’ exposed side, making the boy let out a wet laugh.
“Rude!”
Stiles laid there for a minute, deep in thought. He soon got up, switching all the lights off before climbing into bed, under the covers. Peter jumped off for a moment, but once the boy was situated, he jumped right back on, curling up at the end of the bed.
“You sleeping in here tonight?” Stiles asked, voice sounding like he was already drifting off.
Soon enough, the boy was snoring gently. Peter laid there, making sure that Stiles was fully asleep. He was debating whether he should stay there when the door opened, letting in a sliver of light from the hall. John popped his head in, seeing that Stiles was asleep. Peter made a decision at that moment, gently getting up and trotting into the hall. After shutting the door behind him, John stood there with his arms crossed against his chest, staring down at Peter.
“This is infinitely weirder now that I know you’re Peter Hale.”
Peter chuffed, bumping his head against John’s leg.
“Fine, come on. You’ve already been sleeping in my bed, doesn’t really change anything if you stop now.”
Peter thought that John would have fallen asleep quickly, but instead the man sat up, staring off, very, very deep in thought.
“God this is just… this is crazy. And I know this is your life, so I’m sorry if this is rude, but it’s insane. I know you probably don’t remember me, because you were already unconscious, but I went with you to the hospital after they pulled you out of the fire. The Sheriff at the time was worried that if it was arson, you could be in danger, so I watched over you for a week before we decided that it was unnecessary. So, it’s just… it’s crazy that you’re currently a wolf. Or you’re a werewolf that’s currently in… full shift? I think that’s what Stiles said.”
If Peter had been human, he would have had a stunned expression on his face. He had no idea about the police detail, let alone the fact that it was John. What a small world…
“And now you’re telling me I have to be concerned every time Stiles goes and hangs out with Scott? Fuck, I always just figured he was fine. Scott was the one that kept him from doing stupid shit! Or… kept him from doing the really stupid shit. And Derek? No offense, your nephew is a piece of work. I’m sorry, I’m just rambling at this point…”
Silence enveloped the room. John, once again, sighed and clicked off the lamp on his nightstand, finally laying down to attempt to sleep. Peter had almost drifted off to sleep when John’s voice broke the silence.
“I honestly don’t blame you for not shifting back; I wouldn’t want to be dealing with any of this shit either.”
That snapped Peter awake, and suddenly flooded him with guilt. It’s not like he hadn’t been trying to shift back, he really had, but he suddenly realized how complacent he had become with the whole situation. He had allowed himself to enjoy John’s company too much that he had just… accepted him fate. But seeing John so stressed, he felt the guilt get more intense at not only throwing the man into this world but also leaving him to deal with it on his own.
Whining, Peter got up to reposition, laying his head on John’s side.
“It’s okay, Peter. We’ll figure it out,” John assured.
As John gently rubbed Peter’s ears, they drifted off to sleep.
***
When Peter woke up, he was a little cold. He shifted, moving towards the warm lump that he assumed was John. Curling up, Peter nuzzled his nose into the base of John’s neck, deciding that a little more sleep wouldn’t hurt.
Of course, it wouldn’t have, except Stiles screaming really ruined that plan.
“What the fuck! Why do you have to be naked? I’m going to be scarred for life!!”
Peter shot up, John not behind him, knocking slightly into him. Stiles was standing in the doorway, his hands covering his eyes. John seemed to be taking a moment to figure out what was going on, why his son was screaming, and who exactly was the man in his bed. He looked down, eyes immediately shooting back up to the ceiling.
“Oh, Peter, here,” John said, flicking the blankets over to Peter so that he could cover himself.
Oh.
He looked down at his hands, his very human hands, and sighed in relief. As much as he didn’t mind being a wolf, it was nice to have apposable thumbs again. John was standing next to the bed, a slight blush across his cheeks as he refused to look at Peter. Stiles was still groaning about being traumatized.
“Stiles, I shifted into a wolf, I didn’t magically keep my clothes!” Peter said loudly, trying to talk over the dramatic boy.
“Well duh, but why did I have to see it! And why did you have to be near my dad! That’s nasty! He’s probably traumatized too!” Stiles continued to shout, pointing at Peter accusingly.
“Stiles… it is too early for the dramatics,” John groaned. “And I’m no more traumatized than the time I had walk in on you-”
“Don’t tell him about that!” Stiles squawked, running down the stairs.
“Make breakfast! I’m hungry!” John called down, laughing as he did.
“I’m curious now,” Peter grinned.
“No way, not actually telling you,” John laughed, digging through his dresser. “Here, I’m not sure if they’ll actually fit you, but here are some pants and a shirt so that you can stop “traumatizing” Stiles.”
After handing Peter the clothes, John left to give him some privacy, saying that he was going to make sure Stiles was actually making breakfast. The pants luckily fit, but the shirt was a bit tight. He wandered downstairs, feeling once again unsure, the lightness and relief receding to anxiety and stress.
“I feel like that shirt isn’t much better,” Stiles grumbled.
“Well, I don’t exactly have many options right now, dear boy,” Peter countered, taking the plate of eggs from John.
“Hey, I’m traumatized, tone down the sass!”
“Stiles, seriously. Still too early for dramatics. Peter, eat your breakfast. Stiles, I have to get ready for work and head in early, so take Peter home when he’s done, okay?”
“Sir, yes, sir,” Stiles saluted.
John gave Peter one last awkward smile and disappeared upstairs, leaving Peter feeling oddly… dismissed.
***
Peter was once again surrounded by the idiots he called pack.
After Stiles had taken him home, Peter had tried to return to his normal routine, but he just… couldn’t. He sulked around his apartment for a few days before Derek summoned him to a pack meeting. They were… honestly, he had no idea what they were discussing. He had tuned them all out as soon as he got there.
“Peter!” Derek shouted, bringing him back to the present.
“What?” Peter asked flatly, bored.
“How did you shift back?” Derek asked, rolling his eyes.
“For the hundredth time my darling nephew, I don’t know. I shifted back in my sleep, it was nothing conscious I did,” Peter explained slowly, tired of saying the same thing.
“And can you still fully shift?”
“I haven’t tried. As you can imagine, I’m not too eager to try again and get stuck.”
Derek rolled his eyes, deciding to just move on. Luckily, nobody looks at Peter when he decides to go outside to the porch, needing the fresh air.
He knew he was being silly, but he missed John. It was ridiculous how quickly John had become an integral part of his day and his life. Now though, as he tried to adjust back to his normal life, he felt like something was… missing.
The pack came streaming out. Oh yes, he forgot they all decided to go for a run together, something Peter would be… skipping. He was considering just leaving, but as everyone ran off, Stiles stayed behind and sat down next to Peter on the porch steps.
“So, uh… are you okay, Peter?” Stiles asked quietly.
“Why would I not be, silly?”
“I’m being serious,” Stiles insisted, tone uncharacteristically somber and soft.
“I’ve… I’ve been better,” Peter admitted.
Stiles nodded, being uncharacteristically quiet. Peter knew that Stiles would probably be able to help, would know how to help Peter approach his father. Because Peter had no idea. All of the time Peter had spent with the man was as a dog. Everything he had learned about him had been incredibly one-sided. But knowing Stiles, he wouldn’t ever be willing…
“Stiles, do you remember what you promised me when you had to give me a bath?” Peter asked.
“Uh… yeah? I promised I’d never tell anyone, I wouldn’t make you wear a collar, and… oh… no, Peter, no!” Stiles started, a little panic in his voice.
“I’d like to cash in that favor,” Peter said, a large conniving grin on his face.