
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/544146.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Peter_Hale/Isaac_Lahey, Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Isaac_Lahey, Peter_Hale, Derek_Hale, Stiles_Stilinski, Scott_McCall,
      Danny_Mahealani, Jackson_Whittemore, Lydia_Martin, Alpha_Pack_-_Character
  Additional Tags:
      Consent_Issues, Grooming, Past_Abuse, Peter_is_creepy
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-10-23 Words: 9241
****** In the Shadows of Night ******
by Miya_Morana
Summary
     When Isaac signed up to be a werewolf, he didn't know the deal
     included sharing a roof with a creepy undead thirty-something guy who
     might be trying to seduce him. And Peter can be very persuasive and
     surprisingly considerate when he wants something. As Isaac tries to
     figure out his treacherous feelings while battling nightmares about
     his father, Derek is looking for the Alphas and trying to protect his
     pack. And if that means spending most nights with Stiles doing
     research, well, it's really none of Isaac's business.
Notes
     Written for the undeadbigbang.
     Basically this one is entangled_now's fault for making me want to
     write Peter/Isaac in the first place. Huge thanks to maybemalapert
     and morganoconner for being the most awesome alpha-readers and
     cheerleaders ever, this fic wouldn't have been as good without you
     (and akadougal's job would have been harder too :P). Big thanks too
     to entangled_now for her support and akadougal for the beta. ♥
     Heard_the_owl made some great art pieces for this fic. You can find
     it all here as well as embedded in the story. Go and drop her a word!
     :)
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/171544/171544_original.jpg]
When Isaac signed up to be a werewolf, he should have asked to see the fine
print. There are a lot of things that shouldn’t have been part of the deal, but
apparently were. The first one had been being accused of his father’s murder,
though granted that hadn’t been Derek’s fault. Well, not entirely, since it was
kind of partially his fault that Jackson had turned into a kanima.
Then there was the kanima, and the living in an abandoned subway station, and
now in that creepy, burned-out house, and let’s not even talk about the pack of
territorial alphas here for... Well, they still weren’t quite sure what the
Alpha pack wanted, but it couldn’t be good. Because it was never good.
One thing Derek had been up-front about at least had been the Argents, though
he hadn’t been ready for Gerard’s particularly psychopathic brand of werewolf
hunting. He knows Derek is a bit in over his head and trying to do his best
with everything that’s thrown at him. Still, Isaac wishes someone had warned
him he was stepping into a world in which it was almost normal to share a roof
with the undead.
It could be easy to forget, when you look at Peter Hale’s calm and collected
demeanor, that he used to be a sociopathic killer on a revenge murder spree
before he became a crispy corpse. Especially since Isaac hasn’t witnessed any
of it. But Isaac never forgets, not for one second. Because there’s something
creepy and powerful and scary about Peter, something in his sly grins and his
elegantly raised eyebrows and the way he just looms over everyone and
everything that screams “predator”. Something that just screams of danger.
Isaac knows of broken men who like to feel powerful, and his father only had
Matt’s almost-drowning on his conscience. Peter’s story, which Isaac put
together from bits and pieces he managed to get out of Scott and Derek and even
Stiles, is so much worse.
The man witnessed his entire family’s death while fire devoured his flesh. It
took him years to escape the prison of his own mind, only to wake up with his
niece’s blood on his hands. And then he was set on fire again and killed by his
own nephew. “Broken” can’t even begin to describe what Peter must be.
Isaac’s instincts should tell him to run away as fast as he can from that man.
But he feels lonely, and even bad company is better than no company at all,
apparently. So if he only squirms uncomfortably when Peter walks into the
living room instead of leaving, that’s just because Derek is off at Stiles’s
again, harassing him for research as if Peter’s laptop couldn’t get the job
done.
Also, there’s no electricity in his room upstairs and he doesn’t like doing his
homework in the dark, werewolf night vision or not.
Isaac watches with a careful eye as Peter runs a finger along the spines of the
books on the shelf. They’re Boyd’s books, mostly, or were until he ran away
with Erica. It started with classic novels, then he brought some textbooks on
anatomy, and when Isaac added a few of his favorite comic books to the
bookshelf, Erica stuck a pile of romance novels next to Boyd’s complete Jules
Verne collection
Peter looks at the titles for a little while before dragging a book out and
settling down on the couch, where Isaac is currently trying to understand the
chem assignment laid in front of him on the wobbly coffee table. And either
Peter has no notion of personal space or he just enjoys making Isaac
uncomfortable, but instead of sitting at the other end of the couch he sits in
the middle, right next to Isaac, his leg pressing against Isaac’s, warm and
firm and just too intrusive.
Isaac tries to ignore it, swallowing reflexively as he concentrates on his
homework. Or tries to. The sound of pages turning, the small amused breaths
that Peter huffs every now and then, the arm constantly brushing against Isaac
are just distracting, and when he glances in Peter’s direction, half of the
time he finds the older men meeting his eyes. And there’s something in them,
something that makes his heartbeat quicken in a mix of fear and...something
else. Something he refuses to even think about, because he’s too afraid of what
he might find.
Discretely, Isaac tries to see what Peter is reading, because he’s curious and
he doesn’t really care about chemistry anyway. But neither the name of the
author nor the title is printed at the top of the pages, and it’s difficult to
actually read enough of the text in just a few quick glances to get a real idea
of what it’s about.
“You know, Isaac, if you want something, you should ask,” Peter says casually
as he flips the next page. “It’s only polite, after all. You are polite, aren’t
you?”
He looks at Isaac sideways, mockingly but almost fondly, and Isaac swallows
around his discomfort. There’s a blush creeping up his cheeks, but he wills it
down.
“I’m sorry,” he breathes out. Then, after a silence, “What are you reading?”
In answer, Peter half-closes his book and lifts it to show Isaac the cover, on
which he can see The Picture of Dorian Gray written in big silver letters.
Isaac doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he’s still surprised.
“Have you ever read it?” Peter asks, leaning a bit closer to Isaac, who shakes
his head. “Do you know what it’s about?”
“A guy whose painting grows old instead of him?” Isaac replies softly, because
he might not have as much culture as Boyd but it’s a classic, so he knows that
much.
“Not exactly,” Peter says, and his voice is as low as Isaac’s had been. Isaac
leans almost unconsciously closer. “The painting doesn’t only take his years,
it also leaves him free of any trace of his sins. Gray can do anything he
wants, there will never be any proof of it on his perfect face. He keeps
looking so lovely, no one would ever suspect him of doing any wrong. It’s the
most powerful thing in the world, the ability to charm people, to seduce them
into trusting you.”
Their heads are so close to each other’s that Peter’s breath is lightly
ghosting over Isaac’s face, almost intimate. Isaac doesn’t say anything, his
words stuck in his throat as he doesn’t know how to react to the current
situation. He should straighten up, away from where Peter’s eyes are pinning
him down expectantly, because there’s something so wrong and off, and that’s
fear making his breath falter, he knows it is, but he just can’t move.
“Of course, it all ends badly for him,” Peter smirks, eventually breaking the
silence. “Because stories need to have a moral of sorts, and Oscar Wilde was
smart enough to know that. It didn’t prevent him from getting into trouble with
justice anyway, but that’s an entirely different story.”
He chuckles, like it’s a particularly clever joke or something, a deep sound
that makes Isaac swallow around the lump in his throat and finally lean away
from the older man. Slowly. Carefully.
“I, um, should get back to this,” Isaac says, waving vaguely toward his
homework. “Or Harris will have my skin.”
Peter’s jaw clenches at that, his eyes going hard and his knuckles whitening
where he’s clutching the book. Isaac isn’t sure exactly what he did to set off
this reaction, but he doesn’t look away from Peter, watching him take a deep
breath and close down his book. Peter gets up and leaves, without another word.
Isaac shakes his head after a few seconds spent staring at the door. No use
trying to figure out what’s going through Peter’s mind. He’s pretty sure he
doesn’t really want to know. He completes his Chemistry assignment then. It’s
sloppy, but Chem’s never been his strongest class and it’s not like he actually
cares. As long as he has something to show Harris, he’ll be left alone.
Isaac gathers his papers and puts everything back in his school bag, so he’s
sure he doesn’t forget it in the morning, then looks down at the book Peter
abandoned on the couch. He lets his fingers trail over the cover, lifts it up,
and opens it to the first page. He stares at the words a moment, hesitating.
There’s a noise upstairs and Isaac jumps to his feet, startled.
When the noise is only followed by silence, Isaac sighs, rubbing the back of
his neck. He closes the book and goes to put it back in the bookshelf, but
eventually just leaves it on the coffee table in case Peter changes his mind at
some point and comes back looking for it.
The clock on the wall says it’s ten to five, which means it’s actually already
past midnight and he has to wake up early for school, so Isaac heads for the
kitchen. The bathroom upstairs is miraculously in relatively good state, but it
still has no water, and the one downstairs is basically just a charred hole
with a blackened and twisted showerhead, so Isaac brushes his teeth and washes
his face over the kitchen sink before climbing the stairs to the first floor.
Only two bedrooms still have four walls, a floor and a ceiling, and Isaac can
hear Peter’s breathing in Derek’s room. He’s not asleep yet, and Isaac can just
visualize him lying on the mattress on the floor, staring up into nothingness.
He’s glad Derek put the extra mattress in his own room and not the one Isaac’s
claimed for himself. He doesn’t know how he would have coped with Peter’s eyes
on him while he tries to sleep.
Isaac strips down to his boxers and sits down on his bed, wincing at the noise
the old rusty frame makes under his weight. He checks that the alarm clock on
his cellphone is on and slips under the covers, trying not to make too much
noise even though it’s not like it would wake anyone up. Derek’s still not
back, but if he needed him he would have called.
Isaac briefly wonders if Derek will let Stiles get any sleep tonight or if
Stiles will be snoring in Harris’s class, before shrugging the thought away.
Closing his eyes, he slows down his breathing until he reaches that slightly
less tensed state in which he can find sleep, and drifts off.
It’s been weeks since the last time he had one of his nightmares. They had
decreased when Erica had joined the pack and started spending most nights with
them, and had completely disappeared with Boyd’s arrival. It’s really a
blessing it took them so long to come back.
Isaac wakes up from the dream memory of being trapped inside their old freezer
– fingernails bleeding as he tries to scratch his way out, lip stinging where
his father’s blow has opened it – and there’s a warm hand on his shoulder,
rubbing his upper arm in the dark. Isaac can feel where the bed dips under
Peter’s weight, can hear the shushing sounds the older man makes, can smell the
almost familiar scent of his skin, and it anchors him in the present, shreds
away the remnants of the nightmare.
He should recoil from Peter’s touch or shrug his hand away. That’s what his
body tells him, what his instinct tells him. Peter isn’t safe. But he’s still
better than the nightmare. Isaac keeps his eyes firmly on the wall in front of
him, not looking at Peter, and doesn’t move. After a minute or two, he can feel
his muscles start to relax. Peter’s hand keeps stroking his arm soothingly, his
fingers brushing Isaac’s side every now and then. It almost feels like a
caress.
“Do you want me to leave?” Peter asks quietly in the darkness.
Isaac takes in a shaky breath, then exhales slowly, shaking his head. Peter
moves behind him, lifting the sheets to slide in against Isaac’s back. Isaac
has to wiggle a little as Peter settles in, wrapping an arm around his chest.
He tries very hard not to think of what the older werewolf is doing as
spooning, because no, just no.
He doesn’t know why he didn’t nod, or even muttered “yes” and maybe “thanks”.
This is such a bad idea, for so many reasons. One of these reasons is that
Peter is completely naked, and people say nudity makes you vulnerable but with
Peter it’s almost the opposite. Isaac is the one feeling vulnerable and
intimidated. Also, just so slightly turned on.
Which, God, Peter can probably smell on him. This is mortifying.
“Relax,” Peter breathes quietly against his neck, sounding vaguely amused.
And then that bastard moves even closer, plastering his body against Isaac’s
back. The hold of his arm on Isaac’s chest tightens and he flattens his hand
Isaac’s stomach with a small sigh.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” Isaac complains, and Peter chuckles.
“Of course I am,” he admits, shamelessly pressing his half-hard cock against
the curve of Isaac’s ass. “But I won’t do anything you don’t ask me to, you
have my word.”
Isaac is aware of the small noise that escapes his throat. It’s half grateful
and half desperate, and makes Peter huff amusement against his shoulder. But as
promised he doesn’t do anything else, and after a little while Isaac’s
heartbeat slows down a little. He eventually drifts off to sleep again, and
this time if his dreams are restless it’s for entirely different reasons.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
There’s something kind of surreal about watching Peter Hale eat soggy cereal in
the ruins of the kitchen. They’ve been doing basic repairs to make the house
livable, which is why they have electricity and water downstairs now, and a
small fridge which Isaac doesn’t want to know where Derek found, but the
kitchen walls are still blackened or even crumbling in places.
Once again, it occurs to Isaac that Peter almost died in this house. And then
actually died right outside of it. And now he’s here again, munching on
Cheerios with too much milk, his long legs stretched out underneath the cheap
table and pressing ever so lightly against Isaac’s calf.
It’s distracting. And making him feel uncomfortable. Which is probably the
whole point. He can’t make himself be angry at Peter though, not really,
because he remembers how reassuring Peter’s hand had been on his shoulder when
he woke him up from his nightmare. Of course, then he remembers how warm the
same hand has been against his stomach when Peter held him through the night,
which leads him to think of Peter’s naked body wrapped around him, and really,
the breakfast table is not an appropriate place to have a morning erection.
His ears pick up the sound of a car approaching, and soon he recognizes the
characteristic roar of the Camaro’s engine. Isaac finishes his bowl and gets up
to wash the dishes, glad to have an excuse to put a little distance between him
and Peter. He can hear Derek walk into the house, stop in the hallway for an
instant, then come towards the kitchen to join them.
The door opens with a loud bang and Derek, frowning, takes a deep breath. Then
his eyes turn red and he moves alpha-fast to grab Peter and slam him against a
wall, which crumbles a little more.
“What did you do?” Derek growls, glaring at Peter like he’s going to rip out
his throat.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Peter smirks.
Derek narrows his eyes. “Don’t play this game with me, Peter. You two smell of
each other.”
“And you smell of Stiles.” Peter shrugs. “Yet do you see me make any sort of
accusation?”
Derek makes a sound of pure fury that makes Isaac almost want to crawl into a
corner and hide. He doesn’t move, though, because the anger isn’t directed at
him. From where he is he can see Peter clench his jaw, the only sign that he
felt the wave of Derek’s power hit him.
“What. Did. You. Do?” Derek grits through his teeth, his hand tightening around
Peter’s neck.
“He didn’t do anything!” Isaac blurts out.
Derek’s head snaps towards him, and Isaac looks away when he meets the Alpha’s
red eyes. He’s not trying to challenge Derek’s authority. Instead, he looks at
Peter, who’s smiling at him approvingly.
“Then explain,” Derek commands.
“I had a nightmare,” Isaac says, trying not to blush from embarrassment. “A bad
memory. He helped. I’m not a weak little boy who needs to be protected anymore,
Derek, you made sure of that.”
Derek stares at him, as if trying to read Isaac’s thoughts, or maybe smell
them, who knows. Slowly, he loosens his hold on Peter’s throat. Peter steps
away from the wall, lazily stretching his back.
“If he does anything,” Derek says slowly, “or makes you do anything against
your will, you come to me. Anything, understood?”
Isaac nods. It’s obvious from Derek’s scowl that he doesn’t like it, doesn’t
like any of it, and Isaac hopes it’s because he cares about him, not just
because he’s a control freak. But whatever the reason, it’s nice to know that
if things get out of hand, if Peter gets out of hand, Derek will have his back.
“Grab your things, I’m driving you to school,” Derek says.
There’s no arguing with that tone, so Isaac picks up his school bag and follows
his Alpha out. The drive is silent, and though Isaac’s grown used to Derek’s
taciturnity, this time it’s more tense than usual, and Isaac starts chewing on
the nail of his right thumb, nervous.
Derek stops in front of the school and Isaac reaches to open his door when a
strong hand grabs his arm. He turns his head back to face Derek, who still
vaguely looks like he wants to murder someone.
“Listen, I know you think it’s not my business,” Derek grits out, “but it is,
because I’m the Alpha and I don’t trust him. Not completely. And neither should
you.”
“I know,” Isaac says.
And it’s the truth. Peter still makes him uneasy, even a little bit scared. The
problem, he suddenly realizes, is that he kind of likes that. He doesn’t want
to think too much about what that means about him.
Derek lets go of his arm and grunts out a “see you later” as Isaac climbs out
of the car. Isaac watches the Camaro pull away then heads to class.
He was right about his Chem homework. As in, he got it completely wrong. But
Harris was too busy chewing up Stiles, who hadn’t done his at all, to really
notice. Stiles is slouched in his chair, like he’s trying to sink under the
table and away from Harris’s half-hidden insults and the other students’
stares. The smell of his embarrassment is so strong it almost hides Derek’s
scent on him.
Almost.
When Harris finally turns his back on them to write something on the
blackboard, Scott leans close to Stiles and starts whispering. It’s too
tempting to listen in on them, especially since the first thing out of Scott’s
mouth is Derek’s name.
“Derek had you steal what?” he asks, obviously continuing a previous
conversation.
“Borrow,” Stiles corrects, stifling a yawn. “He had me borrow one of my dad’s
old uniforms, from before he was elected sheriff. And then we went to the
station and he looked up some police reports, checked records of abandoned
buildings where the pack might be hiding out, stuff like that. Took a good part
of the night.”
“Did you get any sleep at all?” Scott scowls, because Stiles looks positively
exhausted.
“Not really,” Stiles says, looking away.
“Mr Stilinski, if your conversation with Mr McCall is so important, the two of
you can finish it in detention,” Harris interrupts.
Isaac feels sorry for them, he really does. But the identical groans and
desperate faces they make are kind of too comical for him not to smile.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
Isaac spends several hours that night going through empty warehouses with Derek
and Peter, looking for the Alpha pack. They don’t find any trace of them, but
Isaac comes to think that the abandoned subway station Derek had made their
previous hideout wasn’t that bad, after all.
Derek calls off the search a little bit around 2 am. He hasn’t slept for over
40 hours, but he sends Isaac and Peter home while he plans on stopping by
Jackson’s and then Scott’s to recruit them for the search. They might not be
pack, but this concerns them too, after all.
Isaac stretches his back as he walks into his bedroom, then takes his shirt
off. When he turns around, he notices Peter leaning against the doorframe,
looking at him with a smile that speaks volumes of what he’s thinking about.
Isaac suppresses a small shiver and sits on his bed to kick off his shoes.
“It’s a bit creepy when you do that,” he says, to fill the silence.
“I’m just admiring the view,” Peter replies, his smile growing wider, more
predatory. “Do you want me to leave?”
It’s the same question, the exact same words that Peter used the previous
night. Isaac is tempted to say no, to invite Peter into his bed and let him
wrap his body around him.
“Yeah, if you don’t mind?”
Peter pouts exaggeratedly, which makes the corner of Isaac’s lips curl up. He
shakes his head slightly and Peter sighs almost dramatically and turns around.
Isaac bites his lip for a couple of seconds before calling after him.
“Peter?”
The older man is back in the doorway in an instant.
“Yes, Isaac?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
“If...If the dreams come back, will you...?” Isaac doesn’t know how to finish
that sentence without sounding either pathetic or like he’s hitting on Peter,
but Peter’s smiles is softer, understanding, as he nods.
“Of course.”
“Thanks,” Isaac breathes out.
He strips down to his boxers, slides under the covers and falls asleep almost
at once. Only to wake up gasping for air and shaking after another nightmare.
Peter is sitting by his side on the bed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders,
and Isaac instinctively buries his face against Peter’s chest, fighting back
the tears threatening to fall.
He clings to Peter for a while, getting his breathing back under control as the
older man rubs circles on his back, making small shushing noises. Peter’s body
is strong and solid and real, more real than the memory of his father’s drunken
beating.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Peter asks eventually, when Isaac’s breathing
is back to normal.
“No,” Isaac whispers against Peter’s skin. It feels almost more intimate than
when Peter had been pressing against his back. “No, I really don’t.”
“Okay,” Peter replies, tracing a finger along Isaac’s spine, slow and
deliberate. “Then tell me what you want.”
Isaac’s breath catches in his throat, and his hold on Peter’s other arm
tightens slightly, reflexively. Peter’s finger dips lower, to the small of
Isaac’s back, stopping just shy of his underwear, all silent suggestion. Isaac
can feel his own cock grow hard, can smell the scent of arousal on Peter’s
skin. He knows what he wants. He also knows he probably shouldn’t want it.
“Touch me.”
“I already am,” Peter chuckles, but he presses his hand flat against Isaac’s
skin.
“You’re going to make me spell it out?” Isaac complains, straightening up to
look Peter in the eyes, going for a glare but not really managing it.
“I’m not making you do anything,” Peter smirks. “You heard our Alpha’s command
just as well as me. I’m just making sure I don’t do anything you don’t want.”
“Don’t talk about Derek now,” Isaac says, knowing perfectly that it’s just an
excuse to play with him. It’s intimidating and ever so slightly humiliating,
but damn, does it turn him on. “Touch my dick,” he breathes out, feeling a
blush color his cheeks.
Peter drags the back of his hand over Isaac’s stomach, then hooks a finger into
his underwear and leaves it there, smirking. Isaac squirms, rocks his hips
upwards, just a little. The fabric of his boxer shorts tears and the garment
falls around his thighs, revealing his erection and, over it, the long claws on
Peter’s morphed hand.
“Fuck!” Isaac exclaims.
“That’s the general idea, yes,” Peter comments, amused.
Then he carefully strokes the length of Isaac’s cock with the blunt back of a
claw, from the base all the way to the head. Isaac grabs Peter’s shoulder for
support as he moans, loud in the empty house. Peter looks smug, and totally
composed, even though another glance down tells Isaac just how hard the other
man is.
“You like what you’re seeing?” Peter asks with a throaty laugh that sends
shivers through Isaac’s spine.
“Yeah,” Isaac nods. “Can I...?”
“You can touch,” Peter says, low and sultry. “You can taste. You can do
whatever you want.”
He wraps his fingers –human again– around Isaac’s cock as he speaks, giving it
a little tug that drags a broken sound out of Isaac’s throat. His other hand
gently grabs Isaac’s wrist and drags it toward his own dick. Isaac bites his
lip, then slowly wraps his fingers around it. Peter makes a greedy noise as he
pushes up into Isaac’s hand.
It’s slow at first, and Isaac rests his forehead against Peter’s temple as he
just feels. He’s not sure which one of them picks up the rhythm and which one
follows, but after a little while he’s panting against Peter’s cheek as they’re
both moving their hands faster and jerking their hips up to meet each stroke.
The tension’s building in Isaac and he can feel his jaw widen, his teeth turn
into fangs, and it sends his heart pounding with panic.
“That’s okay,” Peter grunts, tightening the hand he has on Isaac’s waist. “We
can work on your restraint later.”
Isaac growls, and it sounds animal, feral, even to his own ears, but Peter just
keeps jerking him off. Isaac scrapes his teeth on Peter’s jaw, resisting the
urge to bite down on the bone structure, and Peter makes an encouraging noise
that sounds like a yes, and that’s it, Isaac tips over the edge. He comes with
a full-body shudder, a small howl in his throat and the taste of Peter’s skin
on his tongue.
When he comes down from the high of his orgasm, he finds Peter watching him as
if he’d want nothing more than to devour him. Isaac’s hand on the other man’s
cock has stilled, so he starts moving again. His eyes stray to Peter’s lips,
slightly parted as Peter breathes shallowly, occasionally exhaling a word of
encouragement or approval as he thrusts up into Isaac’s hand.
Peter comes with a low groan, suddenly burying his face in the crook of Isaac’s
neck. He stays there as he catches his breath, smirking against Isaac’s skin.
Isaac stares down at his come-covered hand, thinks they should get up, clean
themselves up a little, but he doesn’t want to move.
He’s trying to wrap his head around the enormity of what he just did. Other
than have the best orgasm he can remember. He doesn’t know what the
consequences of this are going to be, but he doesn’t doubt that there will be
consequences. Because this is Peter, and because this is a world where nothing
ever comes free.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
Isaac isn’t sure at first what wakes him up, because it’s still dark outside
and Peter is still wrapped around his back, holding him possessively, his
breathing betraying that he too is awake. The uncertainty doesn’t last for
long, though. He can feel his Alpha’s presence. Isaac raises his head and looks
over Peter’s body, and sure enough Derek’s there, looming by the door, all
tight anger.
“If you aren’t going to challenge my claim, o mighty Alpha, I’d suggest you
stop lurking over there,” Peter quietly says, not even bothering to move his
head from the pillow. His arm around Isaac’s chest tightens a little.
Derek glares at them –or just at Peter, it’s hard to say– but eventually he
turns around and stomps off. Isaac waits until he can hear the sound of Derek’s
door slamming shut, even though the Alpha can most likely still hear them if he
wants to.
“Your claim?” Isaac asks, soft, trying not to sound too freaked out. Does Peter
see him as a thing that he owns now?
“He really didn’t tell you much about how packs work, did he?” Peter sighs.
“It’s the middle of the night, we can have the lesson on pack dynamics and
Alpha privileges tomorrow.”
“What if I want a lesson now?”
Peter groans, but he sits up on his elbow, looking down at Isaac who’s now
lying on his back. In the dark, it’s difficult to read his expression.
“There are so many things I could teach you,” he says, sultry and low. “I’m not
sure you want to know all of them.”
Isaac swallows around the lump forming in his throat at the tone of danger
creeping back in Peter’s voice. It occurs to him, suddenly, that even though
Peter says he won’t do anything Isaac doesn’t want, the older man will do as he
pleases, he’ll just make Isaac want it first.
And he’s really good at that.
“As an Alpha,” Peter says, slowly dragging a finger down Isaac’s chest, “Derek
could claim any member of his pack as his mate. And before you ask, no,
werewolves don’t necessarily mate for life.”
“But you said you had a claim. On me.”
Isaac swallows, then sucks in a breath when Peter tugs on the curly hair just
under his belly button. Peter doesn’t reply, doesn’t say anything. He just
keeps his fingers moving on Isaac’s stomach, playful and possessive at the same
time.
Peter is no Dorian Gray. He looks the opposite of innocent and pure. He looks
like sin and danger, with a touch of insanity, and yet Isaac finds it so much
more appealing than, say, Scott’s puppy eyes and earnestness.
“Do I have a claim on you?” he asks eventually, his voice low and a little bit
rougher than he expected.
“Do you want to keep me all to yourself?” Peter asks back, and his fingers are
claws grazing Isaac’s skin again. “Do you want mark my body as belonging to
you, mark it with your scent and your teeth? Do you want me to belong to you?”
Isaac whimpers. He doesn’t know when or how it happened, though he’s pretty
sure Peter did it on purpose, that he seduced and manipulated him into it, but
yes, he wants these things. And that should scare him, but Isaac can’t feel
past the wave of want washing over him.
Peter is kissing his shoulder, not-quite-human teeth scraping his skin, and
Isaac slides a hand into his hair, curls it, tugs on it a little. Peter looks
up at him, eyes electric blue and mouth a little bit too wide, too full of
teeth. He lets Isaac drag his head up, lets him press their lips together. The
kiss is harsh and forceful, a fight of lips and tongues and teeth. It taste of
blood when one of them cuts himself on sharp fangs, and Isaac’s nails dig into
Peter’s skin where he’s holding the man against him.
Isaac gasps when their mouths finally part, and Peter looks at him with
satisfaction, like a cat who finally caught the mouse he was after. It knocks
the breath out of Isaac, torn once again between fear and lust, and he squirms
under Peter.
“You should get some sleep,” Peter tells him. “You’re getting up in just a
couple of hours.”
Isaac really doesn’t feel like sleeping, which he demonstrates by rubbing his
erection up against Peter’s thigh with a soft moan. Peter smirks, tightening
his grip on Isaac’s arm.
“You said there were things you could teach me?” Isaac says, feeling wicked,
and Peter’s eyes gleam in the dark.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
Isaac hides a yawn behind his hand when Finstock turns his back to draw a
diagram on the blackboard.
“You too?” Danny comments, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t know what you guys do,
but maybe you should avoid school nights.”
He’s sitting next to Isaac, scribbling notes on the Invisible Hand of Market,
because Danny has no trouble following an Economics class while talking softly
with his neighbor. A few months ago, Isaac would have been impressed, would
have been incapable of doing the same. A few months ago, Isaac would have
blushed, as he always did when Danny talked to him.
“What do you mean?” he asks softly, trying not to attract attention to them.
“Jackon’s been irritable for a few days, like he always is when he doesn’t get
enough sleep. Stiles looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Even Scott was
yawning in English Lit this morning. Seriously, whatever it is you guys are
doing, remember that human beings require sleep to function correctly?”
“We’re not doing anything,” Isaac declares with a frown.
He knows why Stiles is exhausted (Derek), and he hasn’t slept much at all last
night himself (not that he’s complaining), but Scott and Jackson? Okay, Derek
said he’d stop by to talk to them, but the Alpha got back a couple of hours
later, and werewolves don’t need that much sleep.
“Yeah, right,” Danny sighs. “You know, I’m not completely stupid. I’m not
buying Jackson’s excuse about nightmares, and I know all of you have some kind
of big secret. I’m not going to push this, but I’d appreciate it if you just
told me “sorry, we can’t tell you” instead of all the lying.”
“Jackson’s having nightmares?” Isaac asks, forgetting to keep his voice low
enough.
“Lahey, move to the front desk,” Finstock calls.
“But...”
“Now!”
Isaac sighs, grabbing his things. He gives Danny one last inquisitive look as
he gets up, but Danny’s looking down at his notes, so he reluctantly goes to
sit down next to Greenburg. It’s probably nothing, he thinks. Jackson is
allowed to have nightmares. Just because he’s been having bad dreams too
doesn’t mean there’s a connection. But maybe it’s worth checking out.
He sits next to Stiles in Math class, which is their last period before lunch
and a class they don’t share with Scott. Stiles looks at him warily, then
shrugs it off. He still looks tired, but less so than he had the last few days.
At least he must have had a good night sleep while the pack was out looking for
the Alphas.
“Do you know if Scott’s been having nightmares?”
“What, not even a ‘hello, Stiles, how are you?’” Stiles complains, rolling his
eyes. “And what the hell is it to you if Scott’s having bad dreams, anyway?” He
frowns, looking suspicious. “How do you even know?”
“He has?” Isaac breathes out, half surprised. He was really expecting to be
wrong, but this is just too much of a coincidence. “Damn.”
“Isaac?” Stiles presses, sensing there’s actually something important going on.
“What is this about?”
“I... I’ve been having nightmares lately,” he says, looking down at the desk in
front of him. “And according to Danny, so has Jackson.”
“Holy Moly,” Stiles exclaims, and then just nervously smiles around as everyone
looks at them.
Fortunately the bell rings then and the class starts, sparing them having to
give any sort of random explanation. God knows what Stiles would have come up
with.
“What about Derek?” Stiles asks in a whisper, pretending to take notes.
“I don’t know,” Isaac replies, leaning towards Stiles so that his human ears
can catch his words. “He hasn’t exactly been spending most of his nights home.”
Stiles’s neck turns a bright pink and his scent gives off a whiff of
embarrassment. This is... okay, not entirely surprising, but still, he had no
idea anything was actually happening between them.
“So,” Isaac teases, “does Derek sleep well when he’s with you?”
“Derek doesn’t sleep when he’s with me,” Stiles blurts out, looking even more
embarrassed.
Isaac raises an eyebrow at that.
“Oh God, that’s not what I meant, you stupid, pervert werewolf. We
don’t...we’re not...”
He’s fumbling for words, looking lost and flushed, and it’s just hilariously
adorable. Isaac can’t help the corner of his mouth to stretch into a half-
smirk. Stiles shoves his foot hard against Isaac’s leg under the desk.
“Jerk,” he says, glaring.
“Sorry,” Isaac chuckles. “But there is something going on, right?”
“I don’t know,” Stiles groans. “One minute I could swear he’s flirting with me,
and the next he’s back to the death glares of doom. But that’s not the point.
The point is wolfy nightmares. That you may or may not all be having.”
“I don’t know if Peter... I’ll ask him, and I’ll ask Derek. Any idea of what
might be causing it?”
Because Stiles is becoming a research expert and he definitely knows more about
most werewolf stuff than Isaac does. He wonders if he knows about Alpha
privileges when it comes to mating.
“Well duh, the Alpha pack, obviously,” Stiles says, like Isaac should have
known.
“Yeah, okay, that would make sense, but how?”
Stiles looks at him with a surprised look on his face, then relaxes a little.
“Sometimes I forget you weren’t there for the whole psychotic Peter thing,” he
breathes out, and Isaac grits his teeth. “Alphas can really mess with their
Betas’ heads. Like try and make them do things, or make them dream about
killing people. Maybe a whole pack of them can affect Betas from another pack.
Perhaps even another Alpha?”
“I had no idea,” Isaac admits, looking away.
“Yeah,” Stiles breathes out. “Derek is a good Alpha. A bit clueless, but with
good intentions. I wish Scott would see that.”
“So do I,” Isaac says. He really does like Scott.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
When Isaac gets to the parking lot at the end of the day, Derek is sitting at
the wheel of the Camaro, looking pissed off at the entire world. Nothing
unusual there, so Isaac walks up to the car and opens the passenger door to
slide on the seat.
“Stiles told me you blew him off when he texted you,” Isaac says as Derek
starts the car.
“Why are the two of you interested in my sleeping schedule?” Derek asks with a
glare.
“Not your schedule, your dreams. Jackson, Scott and I have been having
nightmares. Stiles thinks–”
“All three of you?” Derek interrupts, frowning, and Isaac nods. “Damn it! I
should have seen this.”
“How could you? “ Isaac shrugs. “It’s not as if any of them would have told
you, and you know I used to have nightmares before.”
“Yes,” Derek grits out. “But yours coming back at the same time as mine? I
should have known the Alphas were behind this.”
Derek takes a sharp turn to the right, towards the center of town instead of
the direction of the woods.
“Where are we going?” Isaac asks, frowning.
Derek’s only form of answer is an irritated grunt, but soon Isaac recognizes
the street they’re on. And sure enough, they take another right and park in
front of the animal clinic. Derek doesn’t wait for him as he walks into the
clinic, and Isaac follows him. There’s a woman with a cat on her lap in the
waiting room, and the cat hisses at them.
“Maggy, I’m going to have to close early,” Dr Deaton says, calmly, from the
counter. “I’m very sorry, it seems an emergency has come up.”
“But-” the woman starts, her eyes going back and forth between Deaton’s polite
smile and Derek’s furious stare.
“I will give you directions to get to the clinic in Greenville,” Deaton cuts
in. “It’s only a fifteen-minute drive from here and I can assure you Dr. Wilton
is very competent. I will call ahead to let them know you’re coming.”
The woman tries to object, but Deaton very smoothly and efficiently ushers her
out. As she walks out, Scott arrives. He looks surprised to see Isaac, and then
his brow furrows when he spots Derek.
“What are you doing here?” he asks, and it sounds almost like an accusation.
“You need to call Jackson and tell him to come,” Derek demands. “Issac, get
Peter.” Then he turns to Deaton, who is patiently waiting for an explanation.
“It seems we have a lead on the Alphas, but we’re going to need your help.”
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
It takes them several hours to get everything, because apparently this is going
to be more complicated than creating a mountain ash circle supernatural
creatures can’t cross. They also called in Stiles and Lydia to help, both for
the magic itself and to serve as anchors for Scott and Jackson, because they’re
the closest thing they have to a pack.
It’s already well past midnight when Deaton declares them ready. There are
arcane symbols drawn on the floor, candles and incense burning, and there’s
some kind of static electricity in the air that prickles all over Isaac’s skin.
He sits at the center of a chalk circle with Derek, Scott and Jackson. It’s
awkward, because Derek keeps glaring at Scott, who avoids the Alpha’s eyes, and
Jackson looks like he’d rather be anywhere else right now.
“I’m not sure I can do this,” Lydia whispers, leaning toward Stiles, but it’s
Peter who whispers back.
“You will do just fine. Believe me.”
He smiles at her, half reassuring and half predator, and a wave of
possessiveness washes over Isaac. Next to him, Jackson growls, and Peter’s
smile widens, but he takes a small step back and nods at Isaac, which settles
the wolf in him slightly.
Peter is going to be his and Derek’s anchor in the waking world. Isaac isn’t
quite sure why, he thought at first that he would be the one sitting out,
because obviously Peter is stronger, older, so he would fare much better than
Isaac. But the Hales had just looked at each other and silently decided this
would be how they’d do it.
“Take your places,” Deaton says, as calm and professional as ever, and Peter,
Lydia and Stiles sit down on the edge of the circle.
Deaton is walking around them, and Isaac tries to follow his movement, has to
strain not to turn around when the vet walks behind his back. He’s murmuring
things that are clearly not in English, and the sound of his voice is almost
hypnotic.
No, strike the “almost”, it is hypnotic. Isaac’s eyelids are heavy and he can
feel his head starting to droop. The last thing he sees as he slips into the
darkness of Not Sleep is Peter throwing a handful of dust in the air.
The Not Dream place is mostly darkness and loneliness at first. Isaac can’t
feel his body, can’t feel anything but the chill of thoughts swirling around
him. He knows, just knows that his nightmares are lurking around him, on the
edge of his consciousness -or rather his unconsciousness.
So he holds on tight to his pack bond. He can feel Peter’s solid presence far
away, grounded but tormented, slightly wrong. Isaac almost wants to go after
it, to follow it back to reality, where the monsters in your head can’t hurt
you. But he can’t. They have a purpose here.
Through the bond he also finds Derek. It pulls them together in this Not Place.
Derek feels less solid and real than Peter, but more whole. There are monsters
lurking around him too, Isaac can see them at the corner of his vision (he
doesn’t have eyes here, but still he sees). They take the shape of a beautiful
and monstrous girl made of flame and cruel laughter, the shape of a chopped-off
corpse with accusing eyes. Isaac doesn’t want to know what his own monsters and
ghosts look like to Derek. He’s pretty sure they all wear his father’s face.
Finding Scott and Jackson is harder. They’re not pack, there’s no bond to
follow to them. But maybe because their bodies are so close, or maybe because
they do share something –Isaac and Scott’s tentative friendship, the fact that
Derek was the one to bite Jackson– they finally all end up at the same Not
Place.
What now? Isaac wonders, trying to ignore the things whooshing around them.
Now we get past them. It’s not Derek’s voice exactly, but it’s Derek. All the
way back to those who sent them.
Them. The terrors that have been keeping them awake at night. They’re still
circling their little group, whispering in the dark. Space doesn’t work the
same here, so it’s like they’re at one specific spot even though they seem to
be all around at the same time. It takes everything out of Isaac to purposely
move in that direction, even though the others’ presence is reassuring.
The things that go at them first are faceless. A man and a woman with claws and
a scaled tail, hissing at them. As they move, a cold air follows them, seeping
through Isaac. I don’t belong here, he can’t help thinking. I don’t belong
anywhere. I don’t matter. I’m not wanted.
It’s things he’s thought before, they resonate somewhere deep in him. These
aren’t his demons – the kanima aspects of them makes it clear who they’re here
for – and yet Isaac can’t move forward. He feels his breath catch in his throat
somewhere far away, somewhere where breathing matters. Emotions are swelling in
him, familiar and demeaning. Loneliness, inadequacy, worthlessness.
No. Laura wanted me. Laura loved me. That’s Derek’s not-voice, strong and
assertive. My family loved me.
But they’re gone, all gone, the things whisper. Like Isaac’s mom. She left
after the second time his dad hit her. She left and didn’t fight for him.
My mother’s still here. It’s Scott this time. She’s here, and she cares.
Allison cares, too, even after everything. And Stiles. Stiles cares about me,
and he cares about Derek, too.
Isaac can feel Derek’s strength grow, and Scott’s a solid presence next to him.
It helps steady him a little, helps him remember the way Scott smiles at him,
the way Derek is sometimes overly protective of him. The feel of Peter’s arms
around him.
I might have been abandoned, but I found a new family. However messed up it is,
he thinks. And Jackson has Lydia.
Yes. That’s Jackson. For the first time since these nightmarish images came to
them, he seems to start pulling himself together. Even if she’s all I have,
she’s worth it. She’s worth everything.
And you have us. That’s Derek again, surer, stronger. If you want us. When you
want us. We can be pack to you, and you to us.
There’s a warmth coming off of Derek, that familiar Alpha acceptance that he
lets Isaac feel on occasion. It wraps around them all, and the monsters scurry
away. Isaac feels relieved beyond words, like a weight was lifted off his
chest, even though he has no physical sense of himself. He feels like yes, they
can beat these demons.
The rest isn’t easy though. Derek’s guilt over the death of his family, his
sister, it hits Isaac hard. If he hadn’t called Matt that night, nothing would
have happened. His dad wouldn’t have turned into a monster, and neither would
have his friend. Scott’s fear of the people he loves getting hurt – his mother,
Allison, Stiles – is less hard on Isaac and Jackson than it is on Derek and
Scott, obviously, but they all have a tough time pushing through it.
When the wraiths of Scott’s loved ones scatter away, Isaac’s fear kicks in
before anything else happens. Because he knows what comes next. They wait in
silence for it, tension rising in the air.
It doesn’t come in the shape of his father holding out a belt. It doesn’t
whisper demeaning words to tell him how worthless, useless and weak he is. That
he could have faced, he could have found the words and the feelings and the
strength to fight. Instead, it creeps up on them, until Isaac can feel panic
close around him, trap him.
If he had fingers, he would try to claw his way out. If he had lungs, he’d be
screaming for help until his throat hurts too much. The blunt terror of being
trapped feels almost worse in this incorporeal world than it did in the
basement. Isaac can’t think, can’t feel past it.
He doesn’t know for how long he stays lost in that feeling, it could be minutes
or hours or years, really. But suddenly he feels something else, like a tug. At
first it only adds to the terror, because something’s trying to get at him
while he can’t do anything. There’s a presence at the other end of the tug,
something that feels like ash and rot and wrong. Almost like something dead.
But not quite. There’s also warmth and want and freaking concern. The memory of
a soothing hand on his shoulder.
Peter.
Peter is tugging on the pack bond. He’s calling to him, and calling to Derek.
Isaac clings to it, to the feel of Peter in his mind and of Derek’s
consciousness close to him. He joins his not voice to Peter’s in calling their
Alpha, pulling both Derek and himself out of the isolating terror. When they do
shake it off, Isaac tries to convey thanks and reassurances back through the
bond, then concern for Scott and Jackson. Because he can feel their presence
now, and feel them panic. He doesn’t know how to reach them.
I’ve got this. Derek sounds both resolute and unsure at the same time. I’ve got
them.
And Isaac can feel Derek’s presence – aura? – grow stronger, more powerful,
just more, while he starts feeling slightly weaker. It’s okay though, because
Derek’s strength can protect him, it wraps over him and Scott and Jackson like
a warm blanket. So that’s what it feels like when an Alpha calls on the
strength of his pack.
For a moment, as the two Omegas grasp on the pack bond to pull themselves out
of the terror, Isaac can feel them all: Derek and Peter, Scott and Jackson, and
through them even Lydia and Stiles. For a moment, they’re all his, all pack.
But once the terror dissolves –the angry voice of Isaac’s father hissing in the
emptiness of the Not Dream before disappearing– the new bonds kind of fade away
as Scott and Jackson retreat, shutting themselves from the bond. Not
completely, which is better than nothing, Isaac supposes, but enough for him to
barely be able to feel them.
The next step is easy. The Alphas’ minds are almost like a shining beacon in
the emptiness that’s left behind after the monsters’ departure, and they’re not
expecting to be attacked from here. Their move had been subtle, trying to
unsettle the Beacon Hills werewolves so they could take them out, or recruit
the strongest of them.
Their little mind game has left them open and vulnerable. It’s easy to slip in,
to rummage through their memories and their fears, to push the worst ones to
the forefront of the Alphas’ minds, blowing them out of proportion.
The hard part is to get out of there on time, to not let these new monsters and
terrors drown them too. Because if the things they faced earlier were bad,
what’s lurking in these Alphas’ minds is so much worse. Isaac clings to the
pack bond, lets it pull him back to reality.
He can feel himself shaking when he opens his eyes. He’s holding tight to
Derek’s arm, half-sprawled over his Alpha, and he can feel the weight of Scott
on his legs. They’re all stirring, they’re all safe, but Isaac can’t stop the
trembling of his hands, the chatter of his teeth
“Can we...?” That’s Lydia’s voice, all shaking worry.
“Go ahead,” Deaton tells her, and Isaac can hear her and Stiles rushing to
them.
When Isaac raises his head, he can see Jackson burying his face in Lydia’s
neck, Stiles wrapping his arms around Scott and smiling softly at Derek over
his best friend’s shoulder. A warm hand lands on the back of his neck, and
Isaac leans back into it. Peter’s thumb rubs circles on his skin and Isaac
turns around, wraps his arms around Peter’s shoulders and buries his face in
the older man’s chest.
“Why did it have to be me?” he asks, still shaken up. He knows it makes him
look weak, but right now he feels weak, and terrible. “Why couldn’t you do it?”
Peter rests his chin on the top of Isaac’s head, caressing his back. Either he
doesn’t care that everyone’s looking at them or he’s actually enjoying the
audience, Isaac couldn’t say, but it doesn’t matter right now.
“I didn’t get nightmares,” Peter says after a small silence. “I couldn’t get to
that place you went if I had tried. I don’t sleep, Isaac. Ever.”
It should come as a shock, a reminder of exactly how broken Peter is. But
Isaac’s never forgotten that. Even now, pressed against Peter’s warm chest, he
can smell the very faint traces of ash and death under everything else that
makes up Peter’s scent.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/172272/172272_original.jpg]
The Alphas are found by the local police in the end. They’d been hiding out in
a motel a few miles outside of town. The owners call the cops when they hear
the screams from inside after they knock on the door a few times.
It makes the headlines, because it’s not every day you find six people mostly
catatonic except for a few violent outbursts. Especially people who had been
acting normally until then, even though they seemed “a bit shady”, in the words
of the motel owner.
The positive outcome of that terrible night is that Jackson and Scott start
hanging out at the Hale house. They’re not quite ready to join the pack yet,
not fully, but it’s a first step, one that makes Isaac smile happily when he
thinks no one can see him.
The nightmares don’t come back, but he lets Peter back in his bed anyway, let’s
the other man teach him the many ways to feel good. Even the ones that leave
him shaking and begging for release while Peter chuckles against his skin. Even
the ones that send his pulse racing, half in fear. He especially loves those.
And if it makes him broken, he doesn’t care, because Peter is broken with him.
He lives in a world where there are werewolves and kanimas and hunters and God
knows what. A world where veterinarians are magic experts and you can walk into
someone else’s worst nightmares. He lives in a world where you can share a roof
and a bed with the undead. But it’s a world where he’s strong, where he always
seems to win in the end. It’s all worth it.
[http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/miya_tenaka/5880025/171777/171777_original.jpg]
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