![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
moonlettuceTitle: The Path Between The Stars
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: PG
Word Count: 654
Summary: In which Chris asks Peter to dance...
Additional Notes: Inspired by this post on Tumblr: http://rosenregen.tumblr.com/post/75641005252
Title taken from 'As The World Falls Down' from Labyrinth, as sung by David Bowie. (Because, in my head, that's the song that's playing.)
Please note, this is schmoop. Unrepentant, diabetes-inducing schmoop.
The Path Between The Stars
"Dance with me."
Peter looks up at the sound of Chris' voice, ignoring the fact that he didn't hear the other man approach. Ignoring that Chris Argent has apparently become such a part of his life that his senses no longer register the scent of wolfsbane and cordite as dangerous. (Even if Peter knows it's not the wolfsbane and cordite. Knows it's the scent under that; gun oil and leather and that ridiculously expensive aftershave that Chris keeps in the back of the bathroom cabinet that all blends together in safe and yes and Chris.)
Chris' hand is outstretched, and the tie he'd been wearing earlier has been abandoned somewhere, allowing the top button of Chris' shirt to be opened, exposing the base of his throat. (Not that Peter's looking. He's not. Because if he looks then he remembers how his mouth fits there perfectly, teeth and tongue and lips all working together until Chris' skin is red and hot.)
"Sit down, Chris." The words are barely a hiss out of Peter's lips, heavy with the concern that any minute now, someone is going to look over and wonder what's going on. Or, even worse, they're going to look over and know what's going on. Because they've talked about this, about keeping what they are to each other to themselves. (It's why Peter drives two towns over to get the ingredients for the spell to mask the fact that each of their scents is ingrained in the other's skin. It's why he mixes herb and root and flower, even though his wolf howls every time he does so. Because he wants Chris to bear his mark. He wants to walk into pack meetings and have every single wolf there smell Chris on him, have them know exactly who Peter belongs to.)
But Chris doesn't move, doesn't drop his hand and doesn't stop looking at Peter.
"Peter, I just walked Allison down the aisle and watched her marry the man she loves. I watched her stand in front of everyone and declare this is the person I'm going to be with."
Chris' other hand reaches out, fingers running carefully through Peter's hair.
"You're not a dirty little secret, Peter. You're the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I would like to dance with you at my daughter's wedding."
Wiggling the fingers of his still outstretched hand, Chris smiles. "Please."
There are a hundred reasons why they shouldn't do this, a hundred reasons all sitting heavy in Peter's throat. A hundred reasons that all vanish into the ether in the weight of Chris' smile, in the weight of the blue eyes looking at him like Peter means something, like he means everything.
Taking the hand still waiting for his, Peter curls his fingers around Chris', allowing the other man to guide him between tables and onto the dance floor. There's a brief moment of awkwardness as both of them automatically move towards leading, before Peter shakes his head with a smirk and defaults to Chris. (And it's hardly the first time Peter has followed where Chris had led, is sure it won't be the last.)
The rest of the pack are scattered around them, and Peter can feel each of them watching the two of them. But there's no shouting, no recriminations. He glances over to where Allison is dancing with Isaac and a beat passes where Peter thinks he should have just stayed sitting down. But all Allison does is nod and smile, and Peter's starting to believe that this maybe isn't as big a surprise to her as he'd thought it would be. Maybe it's not a surprise to any of them.
The song that's playing is soft, slow, and it's easy for Peter to turn into Chris' warmth, to rest his forehead against Chris' and just breathe.
"We should dance more often," Chris murmurs.
Peter doesn't disagree.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: PG
Word Count: 654
Summary: In which Chris asks Peter to dance...
Additional Notes: Inspired by this post on Tumblr: http://rosenregen.tumblr.com/post/75641005252
Title taken from 'As The World Falls Down' from Labyrinth, as sung by David Bowie. (Because, in my head, that's the song that's playing.)
Please note, this is schmoop. Unrepentant, diabetes-inducing schmoop.
The Path Between The Stars
"Dance with me."
Peter looks up at the sound of Chris' voice, ignoring the fact that he didn't hear the other man approach. Ignoring that Chris Argent has apparently become such a part of his life that his senses no longer register the scent of wolfsbane and cordite as dangerous. (Even if Peter knows it's not the wolfsbane and cordite. Knows it's the scent under that; gun oil and leather and that ridiculously expensive aftershave that Chris keeps in the back of the bathroom cabinet that all blends together in safe and yes and Chris.)
Chris' hand is outstretched, and the tie he'd been wearing earlier has been abandoned somewhere, allowing the top button of Chris' shirt to be opened, exposing the base of his throat. (Not that Peter's looking. He's not. Because if he looks then he remembers how his mouth fits there perfectly, teeth and tongue and lips all working together until Chris' skin is red and hot.)
"Sit down, Chris." The words are barely a hiss out of Peter's lips, heavy with the concern that any minute now, someone is going to look over and wonder what's going on. Or, even worse, they're going to look over and know what's going on. Because they've talked about this, about keeping what they are to each other to themselves. (It's why Peter drives two towns over to get the ingredients for the spell to mask the fact that each of their scents is ingrained in the other's skin. It's why he mixes herb and root and flower, even though his wolf howls every time he does so. Because he wants Chris to bear his mark. He wants to walk into pack meetings and have every single wolf there smell Chris on him, have them know exactly who Peter belongs to.)
But Chris doesn't move, doesn't drop his hand and doesn't stop looking at Peter.
"Peter, I just walked Allison down the aisle and watched her marry the man she loves. I watched her stand in front of everyone and declare this is the person I'm going to be with."
Chris' other hand reaches out, fingers running carefully through Peter's hair.
"You're not a dirty little secret, Peter. You're the man I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I would like to dance with you at my daughter's wedding."
Wiggling the fingers of his still outstretched hand, Chris smiles. "Please."
There are a hundred reasons why they shouldn't do this, a hundred reasons all sitting heavy in Peter's throat. A hundred reasons that all vanish into the ether in the weight of Chris' smile, in the weight of the blue eyes looking at him like Peter means something, like he means everything.
Taking the hand still waiting for his, Peter curls his fingers around Chris', allowing the other man to guide him between tables and onto the dance floor. There's a brief moment of awkwardness as both of them automatically move towards leading, before Peter shakes his head with a smirk and defaults to Chris. (And it's hardly the first time Peter has followed where Chris had led, is sure it won't be the last.)
The rest of the pack are scattered around them, and Peter can feel each of them watching the two of them. But there's no shouting, no recriminations. He glances over to where Allison is dancing with Isaac and a beat passes where Peter thinks he should have just stayed sitting down. But all Allison does is nod and smile, and Peter's starting to believe that this maybe isn't as big a surprise to her as he'd thought it would be. Maybe it's not a surprise to any of them.
The song that's playing is soft, slow, and it's easy for Peter to turn into Chris' warmth, to rest his forehead against Chris' and just breathe.
"We should dance more often," Chris murmurs.
Peter doesn't disagree.
