sassiopath | Beginnings:: Sick Fantasies verse

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Beginnings:: Sick Fantasies verse :: For sarcasticdefence

The first time it happened had been the mechanic that had purposefully gouged Stiles on a transmission overhaul in the Jeep. The Sheriff had covered the cost, and been a bit surprised to find nearly half the money paid refunded to his credit card. Especially when he got a call the next day to come to the mechanic's.

Someone had used a drill and gouged holes throughout all of the equipment.

No one put two and two together.

The second time had been a senior, a new transfer in, who thought taking pot shots at Stiles the way Harris did was the quick route to make friends at Beacon Hills High.

Leaving the school that day, he'd been jumped somewhere between school and home. The resulting beat down had left him with two broken ribs, a busted nose and his jaw wired shut.

Those gifts were subtle though. The first open gift had been when Harris came into his room during his break and found his desk on fire.

Yet each time Peter made sure he wasn't around, that he wasn't seen. Despite them being gifts for Stiles, he knew if the boy connected him to them, it would go badly. So it was he just happened to be in the same grocer's the boy was that afternoon. Entirely accidental run in, of course.

Coming around a corner, he very nearly literally ran into the boy.

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Nothing had given Stiles greater delight than someone setting fire to Harris' desk.

Harris had tried to blame him, but having the entire lacrosse team and coach able to vouch for him meant that he got to sit back and watch the fireworks of his least favourite teacher spazzing out.

He was shopping for cooking that night, shoving things into the basket and barely paying attention when he slammed into someone, sending him sprawling and spilling the contents of his basket.

"Mother fu- I'm so so- Peter?"

He hadn't expected things to go quite that way. If he'd thought ahead he would have planned it that way. Then it's on Stiles, not himself.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," he said, dropping down to gather things up, shoving them into the basket until he heard his name. "Wha... Oh." HE sat back on his heels, blinking at Stiles.

"I'm sorry, Stiles. Are you all right?"

Stiles grabbed his basket, shoving the rest of his goods back in. "I'm fine. Great to see you, school's fantastic, small talk done, you're free to go back to whatever it is you do when you're not hunting people down or driving people crazy."

He sat back on his heels, watching Stiles for a long moment. His head cocked to one side, considering his words carefully.

"Actually I was shopping for Derek and his runaways. Not like they can be seen in public. Of course, bit harder when we have no fridge or stove," he said, shrugging one shoulder. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine!" He hugged the basket to him, scrambling to his feet and standing taller, taller than Peter. He didn't like being below him and the memory of those claws.

"You're pack shopping..."

He slowly rose, watching Stiles and the way he scurried. He could well imagine what had him like that. It was what he'd be overcoming now. If he could.

"Someone has to. Left to their own devices they would would live on fast food." His nose wrinkled at that.

"Not like it's going to give them heart attacks." But he shifted slightly. "Yeah, no. They can't do that. Or shouldn't. I can't imagine feeding appetites like that is easy though."

That earned a sharp look. "So I should go back to rude comments and uncaring gestures," he asked, giving Stiles a confused look as if not understanding his point though his sarcasm proved her did.

"At least I'm only expected to help with one appetite," he said with a roll of his eyes. "They're a bit... right. Sexual."

"I figured you were doing that while feeding them. Oh God, why did you tell me that?! Do you think I don't know that?!"

"I would think knowing they're not hitting on me would be a good thing," he pointed out, shrugging one shoulder. "And you really are kind of skittish, aren't you? I thought it was just when you were being threatened," he noted, curious now. "Is that all the time?"

"You sort of terrify me. You mauled my friend, killed a bunch of people, tried to kill us, tried to make him kill us, killed a few more people, mauled Lydia, drove her insane and came back from the dead. Oh, and kidnapped and terrorised me in amongst that. Yeah, I don't feel particularly relaxed around you, you are both capable and willing of doing horrible things to me."

He was quiet, listening. "I would note that most people are, Stiles. I just have better means and motives. Consider Jackson. His very nature turned him into a monster. Or the Argents. You are above that which makes you the noble exception, not the rule."

"Let's not consider Jackson, he's a poisonous little toad." Stiles looked away. "And the Argents are fucked up. We all know that. And yeah, they kind of terrify me too."

"So really, you're kind of terrified or hateful of most people around you," he asked, arching a brow. "I guess that puts me in the same class as most. Though I like to think I'm a better class."

He glanced at the basket, then raised his gaze back to him. "You cook?"

"I don't have a brilliant opinion of humanity as a general rule," he agreed.

He looked at his basket. "Who do you think feeds my Dad? Mom died years ago and given the choice, he'd load up on fast food that'd do his heart in."

"There is an outlook we share, though I would worry about someone your age, with your life, having that outlook. Doesn't speak well for the future," he admitted, wincing a bit at the idea.

"I... Admit I never thought about it. Hadn't with Derek until I got so sick of burgers and pizza I threatened to choke them all with it." He said it lightly, with a laugh. Wasn't true, right?

"You don't know anything about my life," Stiles countered. "You don't really know anything about me."

He didn't laugh. He didn't believe it was a joke.

He fell silent, considering that.

"And if I'm willing to learn," he asked softly, challenging Stiles in that way.

Stiles blinked. "Yeah. No. Your idea of get to know scares me. It probably involves vivisection."

Again that roll of the eyes and a heavy, annoyed sigh. "How about we get someone to torment and torture you and see how well you recover mentally. Not that I would let that happen to you. You have to realize that we're all works in progress, Stiles."

"Yeah, I did the torment thing for years with Jackson and the beating the shit out of me as well, but I'm still not killing people, am I?"

He paused, taking a deep breath and then shaking his head. "I won't make you think about what I heard that day. It's horrible enough I endure it every moment of every day."

He started to say something else and then just shook his head again, harder. "Right. Good day, Stiles. I thought, given this run in, I would try. I see that my past will not change. No reason to try and be a better man. Thank you for that reminder."

"If you place your self worth on this one guy, you have bigger issues than the mass murder."

"It wasn't my self worth I was placing on you. It was an attempt at showing I could control myself, control those instincts that Kate brought out in me. Who else should I try with? Most would have tried to kill me by now, expect Derek. He keeps me around to feed his guilt."

"His guilt? Of surviving?" Stiles was curious, despite himself. "And I remember your nurse's body still. And that whole trying to get Scott to kill us."

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