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spikecentric
Title: ⟫ Souls AflameFandom: ⟫ Teen Wolf
Characters/Pairing: ⟫ Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Chris Argent/Derek Hale, Peter Hale & Chris Argent
Masterpost: ⟫ here
Rating: ⟫ Mature
Graphic: ⟫
skargasmChapters: ⟫ 2
Warnings: ⟫ N/A
Summary: ⟫ Tired of how meaningless his working life has become – being a defence attorney is proving to be far too easy – Peter Hale is wondering what to do with himself. A fire that almost kills his whole family makes him realise that his calling in life is to help other people! An unexpected friendship and a chance encounter with his soul-mate that leaves him searching for the person meant to complete his life makes things so much more interesting than they had been before!
Derek turned when the hospital door opened, a tired smile crossing his face when he saw that it was Chris bearing what smelled like hot chocolate. Chris walked directly to him, leaning down and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips before handing him one of the cups.
“Has he woken up yet?”
“No, not yet. Mom said he’s fine – just a bit too hard a knock to the head. But I wanted to make sure he had pack around him even while he was out for the count,” Derek replied, sniffing at his drink appreciatively.
Chris dragged one of the other chairs over so that he could sit next to Derek, then they both looked at Peter in silence for a while.
“Do they know what set off the fire?” Derek asked, shifting his foot so that it was pressed against Chris’s.
“Not yet – everything was a bit insane there for a while but the Inspector is looking into it. Maybe Peter will be able to give us some information when he wakes up,” Chris replied, dropping his hand to rest on Derek’s thigh.
“Any news on the guy Peter saved?”
“He’s in a coma I believe. To be honest, everyone injured on scene got taken to so many different hospitals, it’s hard to figure out who’s who. Doesn’t help that we couldn’t get any documentation out of the car before it went up in flames,” Chris said, his hand sliding from side to side on Derek’s thigh and distracting him from his questions.
“Well, I hope he isn’t some complete douchebag – it would suck if Peter got hurt helping someone who didn’t deserve it,” Derek grumbled, shifting sideways to give Chris better access. The two of them rarely got to spend time together alone – the carriage-house was cramped with the five of them sleeping there, and the building of their own house seemed to be taking far too long. Derek was all for taking things slow, but this was beginning to feel glacial.
“Nature of the job – its not always the most deserving we end up helping,” Chris replied, leaning down to put his cup of finished hot chocolate onto the ground next to the leg of his chair. He reached out and took Derek’s cup from his unresisting fingers, placing it on the floor before turning to face Derek fully. “Peter did a really good job – once the captain has finished roasting him, he’ll probably get a commendation,” Chris continued, one finger tracing Derek’s eyebrows in a move that Derek found endearing.
“That’ll just make him more insufferable,” Derek said, his arms reaching around Chris’s waist. “Can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“Why are we talking about Peter when we could be – doing more interesting things?” Derek leaned forward and kissed Chris, tasting the hot chocolate he’d just consumed as well as a hint of mint.
“Ah, well – I wasn’t sure if you’d think I was a dick if all I wanted to do is make out with you when you’re uncle is lying there in a healing coma,” Chris replied with a smile, kissing Derek back and pressing a little harder.
“Uncle Peter is a major dick anyway – I’m sure he’d understand!” He pulled on Chris until he got to his feet and he could kiss him properly, the chairs no longer in the way. He loved the way Chris kissed him – like he needed Derek more than air, urgent and almost desperate. Everything about Chris pleased him: the firmness of his back beneath Derek’s hands; his scent that retained a hint of smoke from his job but also the crisp fresh air that Derek associated with the Preserve; the tight grip he took on Derek’s face so that he could hold him where he wanted for the kiss; the urgency of his tongue as it delved between Derek’s lips and tasted him.
The kisses became more urgent, Chris’s hands sliding from Derek’s face to his neck, their groins pressed tightly together, breath loud in the quietness of the night.
“Oh God, I’m lying here half dead, and you two are trying to eat each other! What does a guy have to do to get away from your disgustingly sweet romance?”
“Uncle Peter!” Derek pulled away from Chris’s arms and leaned over his uncle, relief rushing through him as he took in how clear the familiar blue eyes were. “We were so worried about you!”
“Speak for yourself – I knew he was doing it for attention!” Chris said, reaching out and grabbing Peter’s hand and squeezing it.
“It’s not my fault I’m a natural born hero, Christopher,” Peter said, his voice only a little croaky.
“Yeah, or a natural born idiot!” Chris retorted before taking his seat again. “I better call the doctor.”
“No – not yet. Let me get used to being awake again first please,” Peter protested. “Doctors have a tendency to use any opportunity that a supernatural is within their grasp to run lots of tests.”
“That’s true,” Derek said, remaining close to his uncle and quietly assessing his health. He seemed fine – his Mom had been right, he had just needed a healing sleep.
“What the hell happened anyway?”
“We were kinda hoping you could answer that,” Chris replied. “You were getting the patient out of the vehicle when there was some kind of spark and – “
“Holy shit! Yes – he was my match!”
“What?”
“The guy – the patient – he was my soul-match! I touched his chest and a fucking huge spark went off and – “
“Peter – are you sure? It could have been something else – “
“No, seriously – I can feel him – in my chest! Like a string or something? It’s like a pack bond but – more intimate, personal,” Peter protested, struggling to sit up. Derek operated the bed mechanism to lift the head part so that Peter was sitting upright. “Where is he? Is he okay? What happened – “
“Calm down, Peter!” Chris said, getting up and moving to the wall to press the button that called for the medical staff. “Let’s get you checked out and then we can find out where your guy went and how he is.”
“What do you mean, where he went?”
“You know how many people were injured and ferried off to hospitals? This may not be as simple as you hope to track the guy down,” Chris replied gently.
Nodding, Peter turned to Derek. “Can you call your mother please?” He obviously wanted to get out of the hospital as soon as possible.
“Sure thing,” Derek replied, turning away from the bed and taking his cell out of his pocket. His mother’s cell barely rang before she answered and Derek could tell from her voice that she hadn’t been asleep. “Uncle Peter’s awake and get this – the guy in the car was his Soul-match!”
The Sheriff’s department receptionist was about to be mauled. And Peter would be completely justified.
“What do you mean, you can’t release that information?”
“I’m sorry, sir, as I’ve explained to you several times now – I’m not permitted to release information about any of the vehicles in the impound yard,” the receptionist replied, beginning to look slightly fearful.
“I just want to know who it belongs to – is that too much to ask?”
“Well – yeah, it is,” the little shit replied and Peter growled beneath his breath. Derek tugged on his arm, pulling him away from the desk and stepping forward.
“Look – Officer Greenberg is it? All we want to know is – “
“I know what you want to know!” Derek smiled despite Greenberg’s whiny tone and Peter marvelled at his nephew’s ability not to simply jump over the desk and rip out his throat.
“We’re with the Fire Department – “
“Oh, well why didn’t you just say so!” Greenberg smiled back at Derek and took a book out from beneath the desk, flipping pages until he reached the right spot. “It’s signed in under the Sheriff because it’s under investigation because of the accident.”
“The Sheriff?” Derek asked.
“Yep – Sheriff Stilinski. It’ll be released once they’ve gone over whatever evidence they can find – not that it’ll be much, I mean that thing is completely crushed!” Greenberg said with what Peter felt was unnecessary relish.
“Well, thank you so much Officer Greenberg, and you have a great day,” Derek said, turning and tugging Peter out of the reception area. He did manage to send Greenberg a glowing-blue glare before he was once more out in the sunshine. “Well that was a bit of a bust,” Derek continued, moving towards the parking lot. “Sorry Uncle Peter.”
“Not your fault, nephew,” Peter managed to reply, restraining himself from throwing an epic tantrum. Ever since his release from the hospital – whilst on mandatory leave from the fire station – he had been trying to track down his soul-match and this was just another in a long string of disappointments.
Firstly, they had been unable to track down which hospital he’d been sent to – the receptionist at the Cannock Creek hospital had been a fiery, evil hag who had sarcastically asked if Peter would like her to examine every patient within the hospital on the off-chance that they were who he was looking for. It hadn’t helped that they’d been unable to describe his injuries – there had been no external marks as far as Peter could recall, and the description of a young male, mid-twenties, with brown hair and pale skin, had garnered several disbelieving looks from staff trying to assist them.
“Somebody has to know something,” Peter said, reaching the car and unlocking it before remembering that he still wasn’t allowed to drive. It was ridiculous – he was a werewolf for God’s sake! He was physically and mentally fine, and this mandatory health shit was completely unnecessary.
“We haven’t exhausted everything just yet,” Derek said, cheerfully climbing into the driving seat of the Cobra. Peter gave his nephew a dark look, knowing that he was enjoying driving his car far too much. He walked around the vehicle and climbed into the passenger seat, doing up his seatbelt whilst grumbling under his breath. “What did your captain say?”
“He said that it was an ongoing investigation and I wasn’t allowed to look through the files. Christopher hasn’t managed to sneak a look either,” Peter said, watching as his nephew expertly navigated the small parking lot and merged with ongoing traffic. “All I want is a name – “
“You have to remember, some people don’t want to find their soul-match,” Derek said, giving his uncle what felt like a pitying look. “I mean, he must have felt it too but there have been no enquiries at the fire station. I know that’s not what you want to hear, Uncle Peter, but maybe – “
“Just shut up and drive, Derek!” Peter said, staring gloomily out of the window and wondering what his next move should be.
”I’m glad you’re getting out of here,” Noah Stilinski said, watching as his son packed his small bag. Stiles was moving stiffly but otherwise appeared fine, although there was obviously something on his mind. “What’s up kiddo?”
“Hmm? Oh nothing,” Stiles replied, the tips of his ears going pink in a tell-tale sign that he wasn’t being quite truthful. Noah would never tell Stiles about his ‘tell’, simply because it was hard enough keeping up with Stiles at the best of times. He’d find a way to get around it and then his Dad wouldn’t have that very useful weapon in his arsenal.
“Stiles – if you’re not feeling well, if there’s something – “
“No! Oh, no, I’m good – all ship-shape and ready to get out of here,” Stiles replied, scratching his head. His hair had grown out a little whilst he’d been in a coma following the accident and he looked a little shaggy, what Noah thought of as his scrubby little beard having filled in. “I just – “
“What is it, Stiles?” Noah sat next to the bed, glad that this would be the last time he would have to sit at his son’s hospital bedside. The shock of seeing Stiles’ Jeep in a crumpled heap at the scene of the accident had almost given Noah a heart attack, the flames being put out by one of the fire trucks. One of the firemen had grabbed Stiles out of the vehicle just before it exploded, saving his life, and Noah had resolved to find the man and thank him personally.
“Do you know if – do we know what started the fire? I’ve heard bits of gossip – that a spark caught?” Stiles refused to meet his gaze, playing with the clothes at the top of his bag.
“You think this was your fault?”
“No – I mean, maybe?”
“Stiles, you have more control over your Spark then a good 90% of the sparks in California! I really don’t think you should be blaming yourself for something that happened when you were unconscious! Besides, what could have set it off?”
“I don’t know. There was – I felt something while I was unconscious – someone’s touch – “ Noah sat straighter, realising what was bothering his son.
“You think it was your soul-match?”
“I dunno. I mean, the whole time I’ve been in hospital, I’ve been touched by so many people! I am seriously beginning to feel all touched out! But none of them has made me feel that again – maybe I imagined it,” Stiles replied, looking glum.
“I guess there have been a lot of people involved in your treatment. It would be difficult to track them all down, but it’s not impossible,” Noah said, thinking hard. “You’d maybe have to do a list – people at the scene – “
“Trauma doctors and nurses – “
“Radiologists – “
“Anyone who took my blood – “
“Nurses taking your stats,” Noah continued, realising the scale of what was ahead of them. Stiles slumped onto the bed, rubbing his face wearily and Noah decided that now was not the time, especially given Stiles’ propensity for going off on research binges. It was what made him an excellent FBI consultant, especially when it came to leaps of intuition, but it wasn’t conducive to recovering from a life threatening car accident. “We can start looking into it when we get home,” he said, getting to his feet and zipping up Stiles’ bag.
“But Dad – “
“A few hours sleep won’t hurt, Stiles – you look like shit kiddo and you scared your old Dad,” Noah said, knowing that if Stiles thought he’d worried Noah he’d be more likely to listen.
“Fine, fine – maybe some food and then a bit of sleep. But no take-out – I can only imagine what you’ve been living on since I’ve been in the hospital!” Stiles said, heading towards the door.
“I swear, nothing but salad has passed these lips – “ Noah began, appreciating the laugh Stiles gave.
“Careful, Daddio, there’s a bolt of lightning with your name on it heading this way if you keep up those lies!”
three
o X o X o
