Chapter Text
*** PART 1 ***
Things had sucked in Peter’s life for what seemed like forever now. He always played a good game, putting on his snarky face, joking at the most inopportune and inappropriate times, hiding his upsets but this ought to stop at some point! Honestly, he didn’t have to create a list of all the fucked up things that happened to him to know that getting stuck in a different dimension and a freaking railway station waiting to head to oblivion couldn’t end up well.
Of course it had to be Stiles that made him aware of the situation; the little shit always was good at figuring things out but what the heck? Peter was strong, and cunning, but the situation with the Riders was incredibly overwhelming.
Step by step, they explored this stupid station, and with every arrival or departure, they knew more than before. What really sucked was how powerful the Riders were. Peter wasn’t used to be that low on the totem pole of Supernatural creatures roaming his world; what was the point of being the villain if they could overpower his mind, his were side, his will?
Everything about the Riders was upsetting his inner being. The fact that they had no leaders for starters, there was nothing more grating to his Alpha frame of mind. However, he had a grudging appreciation of their work as a team, and stubbornly admired the fact that they could be as successful as a wolf pack was, not that he’d seen many of those lately.
That was where Stiles came in. Void Stiles had been a force to be reckoned with, and the person that emerged now, sure of his strength, and certain of his allies, was positively easier to admire. The kid was bound to be plagued by nightmares, maybe as many as he had, but he was moving forward. The teen's mind, working a hundred miles a minute; made connections most other people couldn't, and he had a shrewdness that was so like his own that rather than being appalled by it, he felt it calling to him, like a moth to a flame.
Together though, magic happened. Always. Neither of them wastes time judging the other, instead building upon each other's smarts, and the multi-layered arcane knowledge they accumulated. Suddenly, Peter didn’t have to feel powerless once more. He may not have all the answers but he had a reason now to be proactive, to reclaim the power he didn’t even realize had been stripped of him.
And that is what brought light to his long standing darkness. Stiles understood the one thing he couldn’t live with; being a has-been, letting others walk all over him, having no leading purpose, or strength to follow the path he carved for himself.
Since Stiles arrived, no codes or rules seemed to limit their behaviors; just as Peter liked it. That sense of defiance radiating from Stiles was just so alluring, the werewolf kept thinking about all the things he loved about the young man, and how much of himself he was recognizing in the human.
It wasn’t going to be easy to get him to see Peter as a potential hook-up but Peter had no doubt that he could crank up the charm, if not the snark, to have Stiles notice him and his interest. Of course, at this point, it wasn’t the most urgent of things. Surviving was primordial, but suddenly, what should have been a dramatic life and death situation, was merely a challenge; one that he had no doubt they would overcome.
The more time they were spending together, the more confident he became in their chance of success.
*** PART 2 ***
Stiles couldn’t believe it. Out of all the people he could have met or recognized, creeper wolf had to be it. He should stop calling Peter that; after all he isn’t creepier than most of the things they’ve been battling in Beacon Hills these past years. Plus he kind of killed the guy, and well, now he feels a bit uncomfortable with that.
In any case, the good news was that, like him, Peter wasn’t the kind of guy to wait around for things to happen. If push came to shove they would move the world around, and they would turn this place upside down, but they would find a way out.
And Stiles wasn’t afraid to come up with plans, one after the other, not afraid of failures. He'd learned from Peter that a fiasco is nothing more than a disappointment on the path to survival, and some new definition of success.
There was nothing better in his mind that pairing up with Peter god damn Hale when the tough got going. Because if there was one thing he could trust the werewolf to do was to find a way to survive. If Scott had been there he would have cast a doubt on the escapade they were trying to pull, bringing in some of the insane actions of the born wolf but now Stiles was another man, one that had to fight his own demons, a freaking consciousness older than time occupying his mind and body, showing the buried dark side he was as capable of letting loose.
Yes Stiles wasn’t the Nogitsune, he wasn’t deranged, he wasn’t a psychopath, but he also wasn’t naïve or beyond the idea of sacrificing a pawn or two along the way. At some point in one’s life, one has to admit that the end certainly may justify the means, and who better than Peter to have his back on this treacherous path? It was dangerous and unhealthy but so exhilarating!
The Ghost Riders were the kind of enigma he would have given much to be able to read about. As a concept, they were simply fascinating. Having to fight against the tidal wave though was a whole new ball game, adding scars to the hidden ones they both carried, making him drown in doubt, forcing him to rely on someone else's wit, on someone else's perspective and warped perception. Shocking altogether!
There was something fulfilling in working with someone as ruthless as Peter Hale. There was such awareness between them, a sense of trepidation always present in the undercurrent of their public display of antagonism that Stiles didn’t know how to label, assess, or manage. He wouldn’t be caught dead showing respect and appreciation for Peter's suggestions and approach to things, yet he recognized a bit of himself in the ex-Alpha. Given the circumstances, the Argent's unrelenting determination to wipe the Hales of the surface of the earth, he couldn’t fathom coming out of such confrontation sane or the least bit cordial either.
But this was neither here nor there… They had a blank slate to use, just had to put their heads together and make the impossible possible; get back to Beacon Hills, save the day, have a chance at a future rather than disappearing in the ether, lost and never remembered