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moonlettuceTitle: Bulletproof
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1267
Summary: In which Chris has a bullet with Peter's name on it, and Peter finds it...
Additional Notes: Inspired by a stall at Newcastle Film and Comic Con that engraved bullets, which mean I now own a silver bullet with Peter Hale's name on it.
Bulletproof
Peter lets himself into Chris' apartment, slipping inside and closing the door behind him, sure that Chris won't object to a bit of breaking and entering. After all, Chris may not have given Peter permission, but he also has to know that a little thing like not having a key would never stop Peter.
Unfortunately, Peter's plan to surprise Chris and ride him on the sofa comes to a crashing halt when he realises that Chris isn't there, and the apartment is empty of anyone save himself. There's part of Peter that thinks he should leave. Leave and come back when he knows Chris will be home. That if he times it just right, he can catch Chris coming out of the shower, all warm skin and relaxed muscles. But it seems like such a waste to just leave, especially when he went to the effort of getting into the apartment in the first place. And Chris may not be there, but Peter's sure he can find something to keep himself occupied.
Which is how he finds himself in Chris' office, seeing what interesting things Chris keeps in his desk drawers. And some of the files are amusing reading, but ultimately don't contain any information Peter doesn't already know.
But it's the little black box at the back of the top drawer that catches Peter's attention. Or, more to the point, what's in it.
"You know, pretty sure those drawers were locked." Chris doesn't sound surprised to find Peter in his office, desk drawers open and Peter's fingers firmly inside the cookie jar.
Peter holds up the bullet in his fingers, a claw trailing over the careful engraving on it. "A bullet with my name on it, Chris? Really?"
Chris drops his bag to the floor. "Are you really surprised, Peter. After all, if anyone's going to take you down when you snap, it's going to be me." Chris' voice is steady, like it's already a given that the two of them are going to end like that, end in a flurry of claw and bullets and blood.
"Indeed, Christopher." Peter ignores the way Chris' name tastes like ash in his mouth. He drops the bullet back into its box as he moves away from the desk, brushing past Chris as he heads to the door. "Sorry to have bothered you this evening."
He doesn't stop at Chris' Peter--, out of the apartment and into the stairwell before the sound of the Argents' closing door has died in the air. And Peter should know better, know better than to think that this is anything more than it is. That it's anything more than an itch being scratched. He knows he went into this with open eyes, and that it was nothing more than lust and want driving them forward.
He's a werewolf fucking a hunter, and that was the attraction. That being under Chris Argent, that feeling Chris inside him, is only made sweeter by who each of them are. It's a game that neither of them are ever going to win, and that they decided to play anyway. Peter knows this, he does. What he doesn't know is why that knowledge suddenly hurts so much.
He doesn't go near Chris at any of the pack meetings, doesn't indulge in any of the subtle teasing and touches that he would have previously. He deflects and avoids, arriving just as the meetings start and leaving as soon as they're over. And the pack notices. There are looks and glances, and Peter could almost be convinced some of them are actually concerned, but he ignores it all. And if Peter hears Scott's What's wrong with Peter? as he slips out of the loft one night, then he ignores that, as well.
What he can't ignore is Allison following him, sliding into the passenger seat of his car before he can drive off.
"You're an idiot," she says, not even giving Peter to chance to talk first.
"And you're a teenager with psychopathic tendencies and an arrow fetish." He waves towards the door, because he wants to go home, and can hardly do that with her still in the car. "Now, if we're done sharing--"
"Hunters are superstitious. Rituals, prayers, rabbits feet, lucky socks. You name it, and there's probably someone who does it before they go out on a hunt."
Great. Because a teenage girl giving him a lecture is just what he needs tonight.
"Is there a point to this, Ms Argent? Or have you just decided to try talking werewolves to death instead of shooting them?"
Allison just glares at him. And there was a point in time when everyone in that loft had been terrified of him. Oh, those were the days.
"Dad--" She pauses, before taking a breath. "Dad believes that there's a bullet out there for everyone, one with their name on it. A bullet for every single person. And that bullet's only fate, its only destiny, is to end the life of the person it's assigned to. And maybe some people die before they ever meet their bullet, but that doesn't mean it's not out there."
"I fail to see--"
But Allison doesn't let him speak, just talks right over him. "He hasn't got a bullet with your name on because he wants to use it. He's got it because he knows he never will."
Peter can't stop the frown that crosses his face. Chris having a bullet with his name engraved on it won't exactly stop some other hunter from putting one through Peter's body. And maybe Allison's gotten better at reading people recently, because she just huffs a laugh.
"It's a superstition, Peter. It's not logical." She reaches out for the door handle, stopping before she opens it. "Oh, and one more thing. You hurt him, and you won't have to worry about a bullet in your brain, because there'll be an arrow there first."
She's out of the car before Peter can respond. Out of the car and running over to Stiles' jeep, leaving Chris standing next to his truck.
It's ridiculous. And if that really was the reason that Chris had the bullet, then why didn't he just tell Peter? Because he's about as good at this as you are, his traitorous mind supplies. Because Peter can do the fighting and the fucking and the need to get skin against skin, but admitting that it's more than that has him panicking. Him and Chris both, apparently.
"Fuck it," Peter mutters, getting out of the car and striding over to Chris.
"Peter?"
Chris doesn't get any further. He doesn't get any further because Peter's fingers are fisting into Chris' jacket, as he presses their lips together, tongue lapping against Chris' lower lip until Chris' mouth opens, allowing Peter entry.
Pulling back after long moments, Peter leans his forehead against Chris'. "So, according to your daughter, I'm an idiot."
The breath from Chris' laugh brushes across Peter's skin. "Yeah, she gave me that lecture, too. I'm not sure if we should be horrified that my teenage child seems to have a better understanding of our relationship than we do."
Something in Peter pulses at hearing Chris' words, at hearing our relationship in a way that implies it's something more.
"Take me home, Chris," Peter says. Because he wants to throw Chris down and ride him until they're both sticky and sated and unable to move.
And maybe Chris reads it in his voice, or maybe he just knows Peter, because all Chris does is grin and pull him into the truck.
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale
Rating: PG
Word Count: 1267
Summary: In which Chris has a bullet with Peter's name on it, and Peter finds it...
Additional Notes: Inspired by a stall at Newcastle Film and Comic Con that engraved bullets, which mean I now own a silver bullet with Peter Hale's name on it.
Bulletproof
Peter lets himself into Chris' apartment, slipping inside and closing the door behind him, sure that Chris won't object to a bit of breaking and entering. After all, Chris may not have given Peter permission, but he also has to know that a little thing like not having a key would never stop Peter.
Unfortunately, Peter's plan to surprise Chris and ride him on the sofa comes to a crashing halt when he realises that Chris isn't there, and the apartment is empty of anyone save himself. There's part of Peter that thinks he should leave. Leave and come back when he knows Chris will be home. That if he times it just right, he can catch Chris coming out of the shower, all warm skin and relaxed muscles. But it seems like such a waste to just leave, especially when he went to the effort of getting into the apartment in the first place. And Chris may not be there, but Peter's sure he can find something to keep himself occupied.
Which is how he finds himself in Chris' office, seeing what interesting things Chris keeps in his desk drawers. And some of the files are amusing reading, but ultimately don't contain any information Peter doesn't already know.
But it's the little black box at the back of the top drawer that catches Peter's attention. Or, more to the point, what's in it.
"You know, pretty sure those drawers were locked." Chris doesn't sound surprised to find Peter in his office, desk drawers open and Peter's fingers firmly inside the cookie jar.
Peter holds up the bullet in his fingers, a claw trailing over the careful engraving on it. "A bullet with my name on it, Chris? Really?"
Chris drops his bag to the floor. "Are you really surprised, Peter. After all, if anyone's going to take you down when you snap, it's going to be me." Chris' voice is steady, like it's already a given that the two of them are going to end like that, end in a flurry of claw and bullets and blood.
"Indeed, Christopher." Peter ignores the way Chris' name tastes like ash in his mouth. He drops the bullet back into its box as he moves away from the desk, brushing past Chris as he heads to the door. "Sorry to have bothered you this evening."
He doesn't stop at Chris' Peter--, out of the apartment and into the stairwell before the sound of the Argents' closing door has died in the air. And Peter should know better, know better than to think that this is anything more than it is. That it's anything more than an itch being scratched. He knows he went into this with open eyes, and that it was nothing more than lust and want driving them forward.
He's a werewolf fucking a hunter, and that was the attraction. That being under Chris Argent, that feeling Chris inside him, is only made sweeter by who each of them are. It's a game that neither of them are ever going to win, and that they decided to play anyway. Peter knows this, he does. What he doesn't know is why that knowledge suddenly hurts so much.
He doesn't go near Chris at any of the pack meetings, doesn't indulge in any of the subtle teasing and touches that he would have previously. He deflects and avoids, arriving just as the meetings start and leaving as soon as they're over. And the pack notices. There are looks and glances, and Peter could almost be convinced some of them are actually concerned, but he ignores it all. And if Peter hears Scott's What's wrong with Peter? as he slips out of the loft one night, then he ignores that, as well.
What he can't ignore is Allison following him, sliding into the passenger seat of his car before he can drive off.
"You're an idiot," she says, not even giving Peter to chance to talk first.
"And you're a teenager with psychopathic tendencies and an arrow fetish." He waves towards the door, because he wants to go home, and can hardly do that with her still in the car. "Now, if we're done sharing--"
"Hunters are superstitious. Rituals, prayers, rabbits feet, lucky socks. You name it, and there's probably someone who does it before they go out on a hunt."
Great. Because a teenage girl giving him a lecture is just what he needs tonight.
"Is there a point to this, Ms Argent? Or have you just decided to try talking werewolves to death instead of shooting them?"
Allison just glares at him. And there was a point in time when everyone in that loft had been terrified of him. Oh, those were the days.
"Dad--" She pauses, before taking a breath. "Dad believes that there's a bullet out there for everyone, one with their name on it. A bullet for every single person. And that bullet's only fate, its only destiny, is to end the life of the person it's assigned to. And maybe some people die before they ever meet their bullet, but that doesn't mean it's not out there."
"I fail to see--"
But Allison doesn't let him speak, just talks right over him. "He hasn't got a bullet with your name on because he wants to use it. He's got it because he knows he never will."
Peter can't stop the frown that crosses his face. Chris having a bullet with his name engraved on it won't exactly stop some other hunter from putting one through Peter's body. And maybe Allison's gotten better at reading people recently, because she just huffs a laugh.
"It's a superstition, Peter. It's not logical." She reaches out for the door handle, stopping before she opens it. "Oh, and one more thing. You hurt him, and you won't have to worry about a bullet in your brain, because there'll be an arrow there first."
She's out of the car before Peter can respond. Out of the car and running over to Stiles' jeep, leaving Chris standing next to his truck.
It's ridiculous. And if that really was the reason that Chris had the bullet, then why didn't he just tell Peter? Because he's about as good at this as you are, his traitorous mind supplies. Because Peter can do the fighting and the fucking and the need to get skin against skin, but admitting that it's more than that has him panicking. Him and Chris both, apparently.
"Fuck it," Peter mutters, getting out of the car and striding over to Chris.
"Peter?"
Chris doesn't get any further. He doesn't get any further because Peter's fingers are fisting into Chris' jacket, as he presses their lips together, tongue lapping against Chris' lower lip until Chris' mouth opens, allowing Peter entry.
Pulling back after long moments, Peter leans his forehead against Chris'. "So, according to your daughter, I'm an idiot."
The breath from Chris' laugh brushes across Peter's skin. "Yeah, she gave me that lecture, too. I'm not sure if we should be horrified that my teenage child seems to have a better understanding of our relationship than we do."
Something in Peter pulses at hearing Chris' words, at hearing our relationship in a way that implies it's something more.
"Take me home, Chris," Peter says. Because he wants to throw Chris down and ride him until they're both sticky and sated and unable to move.
And maybe Chris reads it in his voice, or maybe he just knows Peter, because all Chris does is grin and pull him into the truck.
