[There are parts of this entire exchange that feel like a very funny fever dream. The very physics of it seem utterly absurd when he really lays out the specifics. More absurd, perhaps than Peter being in his twenties (maybe), is Peter acting the opposite of what Chris has come to expect. He isn't being unfair, with that assessment. Or Argent-Biased.
The fact that he himself laughs (as ironic as possible) surprises even him, though maybe it shouldn't. He's laughed enough at Scott's bad jokes now that maybe every bad joke will just be funny, through exposure. ] Peter Hale, broke twice in his life by his own hand. You know, [and there is, here, the first real genuine expression of amusement.] If I didn't know any better, I'd say maybe you like making things difficult for yourself.
[Maybe he doesn't actually know better. Who really knows Peter Hale, truly? Grief does strange things to people. Chris knows better than most, now.] You better stay in the car if we go grocery shopping. Someone might recognise you.
[ Peter leans against the car, gazing at Chris attentively now rather than keeping an eye out, and makes an ugh sort of grimace for the news that he's had his money stolen before. So someone found the school vault. No wonder he'd made a new one. People are so rude, honestly. ]
Well, we do like a challenge.
[ He agrees mildly. Differentiating between himself and the older Peter, and why not? Even if it inadvertently gives the impression that the older Peter is still around, just off somewhere, doing whatever it is he does when he's not trying to kill Scott. As opposed to this one, here, whose challenge evidently involves Chris. ]
Come on, no way. Who would recognize me? And even if they did, what would they do about it? Fight me in the cereal aisle?
I don't know if you've noticed, [with his hand on the door handle and the other on the roof, bracing against it. ] But people don't leave Beacon Hills. Besides, it's -- [He's back again, then, to the predicament of the current situation. The precariousness of it all. He grinds his teeth for a moment and then pulls the car open. ]
It's hard to say. What anyone might do. The fountain of youth might be one hard pill to swallow too far. [How much of the kept information might become dangerous later, he wonders. How much might be too much before they fully understand the cause and reason for Peter's current. Situation. He thinks Derek might be blunt about it. ] Come on, get in. I'll fill you in on the last year. [Or, rather:] Or at least why so many hunters came at you last night. We might need a drink.
[ Whatever the reasons for the way the older Peter comports himself, it probably has a lot to do with what this, the younger one, is accustomed to. He visibly shelves his complaints with a glance away, not even a passive-aggressive eye roll or sigh in evidence. You don't say no to Talia. You obey when she's watching and you try to be smart later when you're doing what you were told not to do. Chris hardly has the same standing, but he's more invested in maintaining a certain level of good opinion here. ]
You're the boss.
[ The faintest sing-song quality is all that remains of his disagreement as he opens the door (up front this time, ha ha) and gets in. Going into the supermarket is not his hill to die on, and he will simply make fun of Chris if Chris fails to buy sufficient groceries; he's willing to bet, however, that Chris won't, that he's perfectly capable of it, and just hasn't. Until now. ]
You're the worst kept secret this side of California.
[He doesn't mean Peter specifically, but, well. Maybe Peter is technically still legally dead. Who even knows. As he starts the ignition, Chris finds himself sighing, like there's nothing else for it.] Few months ago Gerard started recruiting new hunters. Started branching outside of his usual sources and went local.
[The glance he spares Peter's way is ... regretful. Guilty. ] Really local. He gave a gun to anyone who stepped up. Everyone knows, Peter. We're supposed to be in a truce, but -- [Gerard's manipulations have always been infamous, and he's always been the kind to inspire the kind of hatred that sits in the bones to fester. Kate's the poster child for it. ] Fear changes people. It makes or breaks them. Some of them can't move on.
[He's looking at the road again.] Some of the younger ones might not recognise you, but the older ones -- the Hale's have been here a long time, Peter. I really don't need to fish out a bullet from you just because someone saw you look ten years younger and decided to panic shoot you. Or me.
[ The seat is already pretty far back, which Peter supposes could be due to the missing boy who wore some of his clothes before him, or any of the other werewolves Chris has to run around with these days. He stretches his legs out, listens, absorbs. So the guilt is layered, and anything Peter knows that the Argents have done is mere substrate; this most recent stuff is rich crumbly topsoil, and likely a huge factor in Chris treating him so well. Well, every cloud of all out supernatural war must have its meager silver lining. ]
And you're saying you're not a target as well? A bigger one, considering they wouldn't even be expecting me?
[Used to being the family disappointment. Used to dealing with the aftermath of Gerard's great manoeuvres. Gerard might be dead, but his legacy isn't. His hatred isn't. He glances again, taking a sharp turn. Peter might recognise the streets. The layout hasn't changed much. New stores. The same families. ] I'm just trying to avoid as many complications here as possible.
[He's only human, Peter. ] If I don't let you come in, are you going to sulk about it? [He might have some experience with this. Not just as an actual dad. ]
[ Now Chris does get an eye roll, though it's purely for show. Auditory show, even, since Chris is driving and presumably won't really catch the expression. ]
I'd "sulk" if you came back with twenty cans of corn. And anyway, if I'm kidnapped out of a car at crossbowpoint, you'll just never know until it's too late. Vice versa if they come up behind you and stick a gun in your back while you're picking up milk. I'll just be sitting here.
[ He doesn't seem too concerned about scenario one, and even scenario two strikes him as pretty ballsy for inexperienced hunters no matter how tense the situation is right now. So he won't protest too much about being made to wait, but on the other hand, if Chris gives in, he'd prefer to come along. ]
Corn is versatile. [This is not the hill to die on, Chris. ] But fine, you can come. It seems like a lot of work to rescue you from a crossbow kidnapping, especially knowing you'd probably be fine getting away on you're on.
[What is Wolvesbane against a young werewolf, powered up on the power of forbidden future knowledge? But to the grocery store they go. It is about as bland and dated as Peter probably remembers it. Maybe the paint is a different colour, and maybe the fridges are a little more sophisticated, but overall not much has changed. Chris isn't strictly from anymore, so the fact that it is the exact same as when he was early thirties is lost on him.
His shopping habits, Peter is now about to find out, are very I have been grieving for like five years and show no signs of stopping. That is to say, he may not pick up corn, but he does pick up such delicacies as: canned tuna, beer, wine, canned tomatoes, two steak cuts that might be? Average? And the best of all: one onion. He will not actually protest whatever Peter adds, because he doesn't imagine it will go to waist. Peter's appetite is formidable, even if Chris' is not.
There's something less depressing about this entire experience when he considers that he is not going home alone with all this stuff alone. There's also something vaguely strange about not actively planning to be out working later that night. Not in the way he's become used to, anyway. It will be incredibly embarrassing if Peter Hale is the one to convince that he should do things like look after himself and stop only calling people about shady hunters.
When they're home, the house Chris is occupying is slightly different in the daylight. That is: it's much more obvious how sparse it is. Like he moved in, and then never unpacked.]
[ The smile Peter halfheartedly hides by looking out the window is probably still visible in some reflective surface, or readable in his body language, if it even registers with Chris at all. Still, he has standards of behavior here, and they include not outright gloating over meaningless victories.
As for the shopping itself, Peter doesn't quite wrestle the cart away from him because it'll be for the best if they don't actually bicker, playfully or not, in the middle of the store. (If he recognizes it, he doesn't say anything.) There are some sighs, some judgmental looks, and a lot of supplementation: more onions, Chris, what the actual fuck. A bag of potatoes. Pasta. Stuff that, in the event that Peter disappears like smoke in the night, Chris may actually still be able to use if he finds the time and energy. And some actual vegetables, even if they've been pre-chopped and put in a bag; this decision is only justified further to him when they return to the house and Peter has to confront all the observations he made the night before without the weak excuse of darkness. ]
Is this meant to be temporary or are you considering going off the grid, really growing out that beard, that kind of thing?
[ Rude questions are a kindness between them, he's pretty sure, allowing Chris to sidestep whatever difficult traumas have created this situation to begin with, and anyway, he's being helpful while asking. Putting away food, and ah yes, wandering back over to the sink to see if that chunk of metal Chris pulled out of him is still there. ]
[He is placing a shopping bag on his kitchen counter when he turns, eyebrows raised a very unironic sort of way. He gives the kitchen and the adjoining living room a sweeping glance, and then shrugs as he starts to empty the bag out. ] I wasn't planning on sticking around for too long.
[Things, as Peter will know, sometimes have a way of not going according to plan.
He has been wondering, lately, about whether he'll go back to Europe. He might, if only to also bring Isaac back. He might not, too. The duality of the Beacon Hills experience is sometimes stifling. It's hard to be anything but both fond of the people and absolutely miserable while inhabiting the space. Besides all that, Chris can't remember the last time anywhere felt like home, however fake-deep that concept is. He's just tired of moving around, for now. The energy has been sucked out of him. He keeps giving his soul to this place, and every time he leaves, it drags him back.
(The metal is still there, though slightly cleaner with the tap having been run on and off.) ] I haven't really made my mind up about staying.
Hm, I've been thinking that way myself. But there's always something.
[ Can't leave the family behind. Can't leave Derek behind, however sick they both are of Peter having to play babysitter and how bad he is at it anyway. Sure, he saves Derek's life. Arguably more often than he ruins it. Is that kind of thing really quantifiable? Wouldn't he possibly be doing them all a favor if he did leave, go elsewhere to university, take the burden of his personality problems off of Talia's hands?
He doesn't know how different things would be if he had.
His unknowing echo of Chris' experience is as offhand as most things he says, though he spends a few moments too long examining the bit of metal, turning it over in his fingers until he stirs back to attention and pockets it. ]
Where would you go? If. [ Peter gestures. ] All this were settled to your satisfaction.
[It's surprisingly easy to talk about, actually. Maybe it's the intangibility of this Peter's existence. Like maybe it's okay to be slightly more honest, knowing he could revert in the blink of an eye. He's freed some bags of vegetables, which he starts moving to the fridge. ] I don't know. I left Isaac there, against my better judgement.
[They'd get along, he realises. This Peter and Isaac. He thinks Isaac probably got along with the other Peter too. Similar personalities, just with different directional pulls. Different loyalties. He's surprised that Peter's thought about leaving, though, and he feels bad, again, about knowing what the future holds for him. That he knows that Peter will never really leave. ] Where would you go? I can't remember if you ever went to college. I know Derek didn't.
[ France and Isaac are new-except-not-new pieces of information that Peter spends a moment thinking about, without too much emotional investment. Separation, and someone else whom Chris perhaps considers family. The impulse is there (it doesn't ever actually leave) to make sure things don't go a certain way. He shrugs it off, though. There's no telling how long he'll be around, and it doesn't make any sense anyway.
He's out of sight while finding a place in the pantry for potatoes and onions, and his voice, floating back from around the door, has that same easy lack of real emotion. Talking about hypothetical things, to a person whose safety lies in their inevitable irrelevance, same as Chris. ]
I managed it. Don't really have a place in mind, though. I thought it might be nice to wander with someone, but. That hasn't worked out.
[ There is zero hint that he means Malia's mother and it's kind of questionable when they met anyway, and yet — it probably is her that he means. That hypothetical other universe where Peter and Corinne roadtrip it up is probably no better than this one, considering the potential chaos involved. Bad things would simply happen elsewhere.
Perpetrated by this fresh-faced, chipper young man who emerges from the pantry to check on what else needs to be put away? What a world. ]
At least in France it'd be like, illegal for you to live like this.
[Chris does give him a look when Peter says that hasn't worked out. He doesn't put any pieces together in any special way, more than he thinks about how that must just happen to Peter every time he tries, otherwise Malia wouldn't be here. He's trying not to think of Malia, though. He imagines having Peter as a dad is hard enough without him being somewhere between 21 and 35, with that face. To the other thing, he rolls his eyes. ]
In France the diet is wine and cheese. Corn is healthy. [Not that he lived off wine and cheese, but it'd be easy to assume he did, having to live with Isaac as his ward. ] Can you finish putting that stuff away and quit nagging me about my adult choices.
[It's not even that it's particularly annoying. What is annoying is that he's realising that he might have been missing this. The back and forth; the vague interest in his well-being, and god help him, he's not going to dwell on it during what is absolutely a temporary situation. Not sober, anyway. ] You want to nag someone about their life choices? Call your nephew.
Stop making it so easy, then. And I'm willing to bet Derek still doesn't eat vegetables.
[ Yes, yes, they're werewolves, and they are legally required to mainline protein in order to maintain their ridiculous abs... Peter, at this stage of his life, is not doing that. The abs correlate with trauma, probably, and even relatively untraumatized, he's strong enough, which Chris found out for himself earlier. Current main occupation is judging the hell out of people's lives, which he is engaging in even as he continues talking and putting food away. Also, rearranging some of Chris' kitchen, sorry not sorry. Just locating things like pans and cutlery. ]
Or did you mean some other decision? Did he go blond?
[ Easy option that he purposefully leaves out: dating someone questionable? Let's not go there. ]
[How much of his stress would not exist if Derek had gone blond instead of dealing with his grief and anger the way he had? So many! You cannot change the past, though, no matter how much Chris wishes. Experiences make you who you are, etc, and the Derek he knows now is ... A friend? A good friend, he thinks. Good enough that Chris has him saved on his phone as Derek and not some generic name like Werewolf 3. ]
Derek is -- He's always, you know. Frowning, even when he's in a good mood. Was he always like that?
[He knows the answer. It just seems like, well. Conversation. ]
[ Going blond instead of drowning in anger-sadness hasn't occurred to Peter as an option, so he's having some trouble parsing Chris' apparent preference for Derek to be blond. This necessitates that he pause in rooting around in a cabinet to give Chris a judgmental-bewildered look that maligns his ... random aesthetic preferences? Ah, a reasonably sized skillet. This will do for the steaks, unless Chris is hiding a grill somewhere. ]
He can be stubborn, once he's decided something is the right thing to do. Or the right way to be.
[ Finished with his rummaging and rearranging, Peter wanders back over towards the couch and flops his entire body onto all of it, one hand lifting automatically to settle over his mostly healed wound and poke around gently with his fingers. ]
I think it's more about trying to move on. Find a greater purpose.
[There is no grill, but to Peter's bewildered expression he offers: one eyebrow raise, which is more or less a are you telling me Derek has not always been bad at life choices. It's hard to believe; Chris is related to one of them.] He might be different, from what you'd remember. Hairier.
[Chris must be different, too, though, and Peter's handling it fairly well. It might easier, though, if you've only known the person through word of mouth.
He finishes what he's doing, which is. Not much, except trying to keep his hands busy, and folding the bag, he turns to lean back against the table. His eyes are drawn to where Peter pokes at his healing wound; instinctual curiosity that's stayed with him since Allison got her first scraped knee, probably. He nods to it.] How is it? Healing?
[ While Chris is arguably right about Derek, the person who would make that argument, Peter, is incredibly biased, and the wrong person to ask. The truth is, this Peter seems remarkably cavalier about Derek's current life, almost disinterested despite his inquiry, and now he's turning over unknown things in his head as he lounges, seemingly untroubled by any of it. ]
It's all right, I guess.
[ The same old werewolf nonchalance about major gut wounds. Classic Beacon Hills. Peter squirms around on the couch to pull the t-shirt up, and cranes his head to look down at his stomach. Nothing much has changed since the morning, the skin there pink and raw-looking around the puncture. He lies back, just leaving the shirt as is, his fingers splayed over it as if he could assess the progress moment by moment. ]
So we're not on great terms, I'd imagine. Derek and I.
[Werewolf healing really is fickle, he's learned. Scott heals fast, more often than not. Derek, too. His eyes staying on the wound a second longer than is maybe necessary isn't a sign that he's especially worried, even if he is, a little, that he might have missed something. That he might get up in a second, for example, and turn around to find Peter passed out on the couch or something else equally as mortifying.
His jaw clenches, and when he finally looks back up, it's followed by a shrug. ] I'd say you were pretty amicable, these days.
[Not a lie. You can love someone and be unable to stand them. Chris knows.] He holds a grudge, but he's pragmatic and sentimental, even if he'd deny it. [Not that he's doing self-reflection here, but it's probably why he and Derek get on so well, these days. Chris is nothing if not extremely sentimental and quite pragmatic.] He'll probably think you're annoying. Try not to take it personally, he thinks everyone is annoying.
[ He could see it both ways — that only someone outside the family would consider the relationship Chris describes as "amicable," compared to how they once were, or how they were once supposed to be. Simultaneously, however, he knows he did a lot deliberate work to ruin that exact thing, regardless of whatever that thing really was, and that's before getting into whatever has happened in the unknown interim of the past few years. So "amicable" is about as accurate as any other word. ]
Oh, no, I've spent Derek's entire life annoying him. That's business as usual.
[ Not that anything about this situation fits that particular bill. Peter's voice implies he has no worries about it. Just the indifference/avoidance, the gentle scratch of his fingernails over his injury, the vagueness of his thoughtful expression. ]
So you really feel you have to keep an eye on me? Aren't I keeping you from... stuff?
[Stuff. He could be out of the house, he supposes. It's early, still. Too early for patrolling, or intelligence gathering, which he could also be doing later. Sure, there's other stuff too, but Chris has made his life a minefield of awkward self-sabotage, so calling Melissa and going out on a date is like, something he needs exactly fourteen days to work up the courage to do. Unless he gets shot and ends up seeing her in the hospital --
Anyway: ] I can do stuff any other night. Besides you getting into more trouble, I'll feel a lot better if that heals all the way and I know there's no extra side effects about to rear their head.
[Like, if Peter starts getting even younger? Starts speaking in Latin, head spinning? Continued memory loss? Chris is not a doctor, but those seem like logical causes of concern. ] Sorry if you were hoping to have my house to yourself or sneak away while I was patrolling.
[ He sighs loudly as he gives an exaggerated stretch, not particularly cat-like other than the sheer attitude, and lets his arms cross behind his head. The sigh is one of only mild exasperation, more like he's humoring Chris, and like any impatience is pretended for the fun of it. ]
And if Derek takes his sweet time getting here? If this... Scott and the others, they need your help?
[ Did Chris actually say Scott's name? Peter could have gotten it from the other werewolves who were allegedly around and told him where to go. ]
[Ha ha ha ha. Maybe he did say Scott's name; he hears it so often that it doesn't particularly weird that Peter would know it. Maybe Derek said it on the phone, and Peter just overheard. Chris is thinking, sort of wearily, about how Malia might be with Scot, and how she might just.
Well. In a long day of feeling sort of sorry for Peter, he would just feel even more sorry for him, in that instance. ] You're about to find out that the life of a solitary hunter is incredibly boring, Peter. You might even be relieved if he looks at you with his big puppy dog eyes and you end up part of his ragtag group of think later teens.
[Mentally, he's rounding back onto what he might usually do, in this odd circumstance and his normal circumstances, and thinks, sort of blandly, that maybe he could go for a run before he settles into anything too sit-down heavy like, googling time travel??? and looking at his cover business's profit margins.] What exactly did you used to do, when you were [a sort of vague hand wave towards Peter's whole everything,] This age? I'm not cruel enough to keep you cooped up, staring out the window. Yet.
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The fact that he himself laughs (as ironic as possible) surprises even him, though maybe it shouldn't. He's laughed enough at Scott's bad jokes now that maybe every bad joke will just be funny, through exposure. ] Peter Hale, broke twice in his life by his own hand. You know, [and there is, here, the first real genuine expression of amusement.] If I didn't know any better, I'd say maybe you like making things difficult for yourself.
[Maybe he doesn't actually know better. Who really knows Peter Hale, truly? Grief does strange things to people. Chris knows better than most, now.] You better stay in the car if we go grocery shopping. Someone might recognise you.
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Well, we do like a challenge.
[ He agrees mildly. Differentiating between himself and the older Peter, and why not? Even if it inadvertently gives the impression that the older Peter is still around, just off somewhere, doing whatever it is he does when he's not trying to kill Scott. As opposed to this one, here, whose challenge evidently involves Chris. ]
Come on, no way. Who would recognize me? And even if they did, what would they do about it? Fight me in the cereal aisle?
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It's hard to say. What anyone might do. The fountain of youth might be one hard pill to swallow too far. [How much of the kept information might become dangerous later, he wonders. How much might be too much before they fully understand the cause and reason for Peter's current. Situation. He thinks Derek might be blunt about it. ] Come on, get in. I'll fill you in on the last year. [Or, rather:] Or at least why so many hunters came at you last night. We might need a drink.
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You're the boss.
[ The faintest sing-song quality is all that remains of his disagreement as he opens the door (up front this time, ha ha) and gets in. Going into the supermarket is not his hill to die on, and he will simply make fun of Chris if Chris fails to buy sufficient groceries; he's willing to bet, however, that Chris won't, that he's perfectly capable of it, and just hasn't. Until now. ]
So what is it this time.
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[He doesn't mean Peter specifically, but, well. Maybe Peter is technically still legally dead. Who even knows. As he starts the ignition, Chris finds himself sighing, like there's nothing else for it.] Few months ago Gerard started recruiting new hunters. Started branching outside of his usual sources and went local.
[The glance he spares Peter's way is ... regretful. Guilty. ] Really local. He gave a gun to anyone who stepped up. Everyone knows, Peter. We're supposed to be in a truce, but -- [Gerard's manipulations have always been infamous, and he's always been the kind to inspire the kind of hatred that sits in the bones to fester. Kate's the poster child for it. ] Fear changes people. It makes or breaks them. Some of them can't move on.
[He's looking at the road again.] Some of the younger ones might not recognise you, but the older ones -- the Hale's have been here a long time, Peter. I really don't need to fish out a bullet from you just because someone saw you look ten years younger and decided to panic shoot you. Or me.
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And you're saying you're not a target as well? A bigger one, considering they wouldn't even be expecting me?
[ Not this version of him, anyway. ]
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[Used to being the family disappointment. Used to dealing with the aftermath of Gerard's great manoeuvres. Gerard might be dead, but his legacy isn't. His hatred isn't. He glances again, taking a sharp turn. Peter might recognise the streets. The layout hasn't changed much. New stores. The same families. ] I'm just trying to avoid as many complications here as possible.
[He's only human, Peter. ] If I don't let you come in, are you going to sulk about it? [He might have some experience with this. Not just as an actual dad. ]
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I'd "sulk" if you came back with twenty cans of corn. And anyway, if I'm kidnapped out of a car at crossbowpoint, you'll just never know until it's too late. Vice versa if they come up behind you and stick a gun in your back while you're picking up milk. I'll just be sitting here.
[ He doesn't seem too concerned about scenario one, and even scenario two strikes him as pretty ballsy for inexperienced hunters no matter how tense the situation is right now. So he won't protest too much about being made to wait, but on the other hand, if Chris gives in, he'd prefer to come along. ]
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[What is Wolvesbane against a young werewolf, powered up on the power of forbidden future knowledge? But to the grocery store they go. It is about as bland and dated as Peter probably remembers it. Maybe the paint is a different colour, and maybe the fridges are a little more sophisticated, but overall not much has changed. Chris isn't strictly from anymore, so the fact that it is the exact same as when he was early thirties is lost on him.
His shopping habits, Peter is now about to find out, are very I have been grieving for like five years and show no signs of stopping. That is to say, he may not pick up corn, but he does pick up such delicacies as: canned tuna, beer, wine, canned tomatoes, two steak cuts that might be? Average? And the best of all: one onion. He will not actually protest whatever Peter adds, because he doesn't imagine it will go to waist. Peter's appetite is formidable, even if Chris' is not.
There's something less depressing about this entire experience when he considers that he is not going home alone with all this stuff alone. There's also something vaguely strange about not actively planning to be out working later that night. Not in the way he's become used to, anyway. It will be incredibly embarrassing if Peter Hale is the one to convince that he should do things like look after himself and stop only calling people about shady hunters.
When they're home, the house Chris is occupying is slightly different in the daylight. That is: it's much more obvious how sparse it is. Like he moved in, and then never unpacked.]
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As for the shopping itself, Peter doesn't quite wrestle the cart away from him because it'll be for the best if they don't actually bicker, playfully or not, in the middle of the store. (If he recognizes it, he doesn't say anything.) There are some sighs, some judgmental looks, and a lot of supplementation: more onions, Chris, what the actual fuck. A bag of potatoes. Pasta. Stuff that, in the event that Peter disappears like smoke in the night, Chris may actually still be able to use if he finds the time and energy. And some actual vegetables, even if they've been pre-chopped and put in a bag; this decision is only justified further to him when they return to the house and Peter has to confront all the observations he made the night before without the weak excuse of darkness. ]
Is this meant to be temporary or are you considering going off the grid, really growing out that beard, that kind of thing?
[ Rude questions are a kindness between them, he's pretty sure, allowing Chris to sidestep whatever difficult traumas have created this situation to begin with, and anyway, he's being helpful while asking. Putting away food, and ah yes, wandering back over to the sink to see if that chunk of metal Chris pulled out of him is still there. ]
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[Things, as Peter will know, sometimes have a way of not going according to plan.
He has been wondering, lately, about whether he'll go back to Europe. He might, if only to also bring Isaac back. He might not, too. The duality of the Beacon Hills experience is sometimes stifling. It's hard to be anything but both fond of the people and absolutely miserable while inhabiting the space. Besides all that, Chris can't remember the last time anywhere felt like home, however fake-deep that concept is. He's just tired of moving around, for now. The energy has been sucked out of him. He keeps giving his soul to this place, and every time he leaves, it drags him back.
(The metal is still there, though slightly cleaner with the tap having been run on and off.) ] I haven't really made my mind up about staying.
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[ Can't leave the family behind. Can't leave Derek behind, however sick they both are of Peter having to play babysitter and how bad he is at it anyway. Sure, he saves Derek's life. Arguably more often than he ruins it. Is that kind of thing really quantifiable? Wouldn't he possibly be doing them all a favor if he did leave, go elsewhere to university, take the burden of his personality problems off of Talia's hands?
He doesn't know how different things would be if he had.
His unknowing echo of Chris' experience is as offhand as most things he says, though he spends a few moments too long examining the bit of metal, turning it over in his fingers until he stirs back to attention and pockets it. ]
Where would you go? If. [ Peter gestures. ] All this were settled to your satisfaction.
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[It's surprisingly easy to talk about, actually. Maybe it's the intangibility of this Peter's existence. Like maybe it's okay to be slightly more honest, knowing he could revert in the blink of an eye. He's freed some bags of vegetables, which he starts moving to the fridge. ] I don't know. I left Isaac there, against my better judgement.
[They'd get along, he realises. This Peter and Isaac. He thinks Isaac probably got along with the other Peter too. Similar personalities, just with different directional pulls. Different loyalties. He's surprised that Peter's thought about leaving, though, and he feels bad, again, about knowing what the future holds for him. That he knows that Peter will never really leave. ] Where would you go? I can't remember if you ever went to college. I know Derek didn't.
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He's out of sight while finding a place in the pantry for potatoes and onions, and his voice, floating back from around the door, has that same easy lack of real emotion. Talking about hypothetical things, to a person whose safety lies in their inevitable irrelevance, same as Chris. ]
I managed it. Don't really have a place in mind, though. I thought it might be nice to wander with someone, but. That hasn't worked out.
[ There is zero hint that he means Malia's mother and it's kind of questionable when they met anyway, and yet — it probably is her that he means. That hypothetical other universe where Peter and Corinne roadtrip it up is probably no better than this one, considering the potential chaos involved. Bad things would simply happen elsewhere.
Perpetrated by this fresh-faced, chipper young man who emerges from the pantry to check on what else needs to be put away? What a world. ]
At least in France it'd be like, illegal for you to live like this.
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In France the diet is wine and cheese. Corn is healthy. [Not that he lived off wine and cheese, but it'd be easy to assume he did, having to live with Isaac as his ward. ] Can you finish putting that stuff away and quit nagging me about my adult choices.
[It's not even that it's particularly annoying. What is annoying is that he's realising that he might have been missing this. The back and forth; the vague interest in his well-being, and god help him, he's not going to dwell on it during what is absolutely a temporary situation. Not sober, anyway. ] You want to nag someone about their life choices? Call your nephew.
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[ Yes, yes, they're werewolves, and they are legally required to mainline protein in order to maintain their ridiculous abs... Peter, at this stage of his life, is not doing that. The abs correlate with trauma, probably, and even relatively untraumatized, he's strong enough, which Chris found out for himself earlier. Current main occupation is judging the hell out of people's lives, which he is engaging in even as he continues talking and putting food away. Also, rearranging some of Chris' kitchen, sorry not sorry. Just locating things like pans and cutlery. ]
Or did you mean some other decision? Did he go blond?
[ Easy option that he purposefully leaves out: dating someone questionable? Let's not go there. ]
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[How much of his stress would not exist if Derek had gone blond instead of dealing with his grief and anger the way he had? So many! You cannot change the past, though, no matter how much Chris wishes. Experiences make you who you are, etc, and the Derek he knows now is ... A friend? A good friend, he thinks. Good enough that Chris has him saved on his phone as Derek and not some generic name like Werewolf 3. ]
Derek is -- He's always, you know. Frowning, even when he's in a good mood. Was he always like that?
[He knows the answer. It just seems like, well. Conversation. ]
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He can be stubborn, once he's decided something is the right thing to do. Or the right way to be.
[ Finished with his rummaging and rearranging, Peter wanders back over towards the couch and flops his entire body onto all of it, one hand lifting automatically to settle over his mostly healed wound and poke around gently with his fingers. ]
So he's given up on Beacon Hills finally?
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[There is no grill, but to Peter's bewildered expression he offers: one eyebrow raise, which is more or less a are you telling me Derek has not always been bad at life choices. It's hard to believe; Chris is related to one of them.] He might be different, from what you'd remember. Hairier.
[Chris must be different, too, though, and Peter's handling it fairly well. It might easier, though, if you've only known the person through word of mouth.
He finishes what he's doing, which is. Not much, except trying to keep his hands busy, and folding the bag, he turns to lean back against the table. His eyes are drawn to where Peter pokes at his healing wound; instinctual curiosity that's stayed with him since Allison got her first scraped knee, probably. He nods to it.] How is it? Healing?
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It's all right, I guess.
[ The same old werewolf nonchalance about major gut wounds. Classic Beacon Hills. Peter squirms around on the couch to pull the t-shirt up, and cranes his head to look down at his stomach. Nothing much has changed since the morning, the skin there pink and raw-looking around the puncture. He lies back, just leaving the shirt as is, his fingers splayed over it as if he could assess the progress moment by moment. ]
So we're not on great terms, I'd imagine. Derek and I.
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His jaw clenches, and when he finally looks back up, it's followed by a shrug. ] I'd say you were pretty amicable, these days.
[Not a lie. You can love someone and be unable to stand them. Chris knows.] He holds a grudge, but he's pragmatic and sentimental, even if he'd deny it. [Not that he's doing self-reflection here, but it's probably why he and Derek get on so well, these days. Chris is nothing if not extremely sentimental and quite pragmatic.] He'll probably think you're annoying. Try not to take it personally, he thinks everyone is annoying.
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Oh, no, I've spent Derek's entire life annoying him. That's business as usual.
[ Not that anything about this situation fits that particular bill. Peter's voice implies he has no worries about it. Just the indifference/avoidance, the gentle scratch of his fingernails over his injury, the vagueness of his thoughtful expression. ]
So you really feel you have to keep an eye on me? Aren't I keeping you from... stuff?
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Anyway: ] I can do stuff any other night. Besides you getting into more trouble, I'll feel a lot better if that heals all the way and I know there's no extra side effects about to rear their head.
[Like, if Peter starts getting even younger? Starts speaking in Latin, head spinning? Continued memory loss? Chris is not a doctor, but those seem like logical causes of concern. ] Sorry if you were hoping to have my house to yourself or sneak away while I was patrolling.
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And if Derek takes his sweet time getting here? If this... Scott and the others, they need your help?
[ Did Chris actually say Scott's name? Peter could have gotten it from the other werewolves who were allegedly around and told him where to go. ]
Guess you'll just have to take me with you, huh?
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[Ha ha ha ha. Maybe he did say Scott's name; he hears it so often that it doesn't particularly weird that Peter would know it. Maybe Derek said it on the phone, and Peter just overheard. Chris is thinking, sort of wearily, about how Malia might be with Scot, and how she might just.
Well. In a long day of feeling sort of sorry for Peter, he would just feel even more sorry for him, in that instance. ] You're about to find out that the life of a solitary hunter is incredibly boring, Peter. You might even be relieved if he looks at you with his big puppy dog eyes and you end up part of his ragtag group of think later teens.
[Mentally, he's rounding back onto what he might usually do, in this odd circumstance and his normal circumstances, and thinks, sort of blandly, that maybe he could go for a run before he settles into anything too sit-down heavy like, googling time travel??? and looking at his cover business's profit margins.] What exactly did you used to do, when you were [a sort of vague hand wave towards Peter's whole everything,] This age? I'm not cruel enough to keep you cooped up, staring out the window. Yet.
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