Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles screamed. He hadn’t meant to. He was trying to distract from Erica and Boyd but talking back. He had to!

Another whip slice at his back and Stiles managed to swallow that scream. Things had escalated due to him not screaming like they wanted him to as a species-betrayer. Those were their words, not his. Stiles bit his tongue to bleeding before he managed to force out, “I don’t think this is my flavor of kinky four-play. Maybe we should work on something softer before getting quite so bloody.”

Gerard frowned before gritting out: “I will break you.”

Stiles forced out, “Now that is just no way to talk to someone whose help you’re wanting. Maybe consider the word please? It may not guarantee everything will come out your way, but it’s a good start.”

Another hunter tased Stiles in the side, causing Stiles to seize under the electrical current.

After taking a breath post being electrocuted, Stiles managed to growl out, “What is your problem? I’m human. Aren’t you trying to get rid of the supernatural so there’re just humans left in the world? Or are you just a hateful monster wanting to kill everything you lay your eyes on?!”

Gerard grinned. “Species-betrayer.”

Then, Gerard pulled out a tube of what looked like seasoning. Shooing away the hunter behind Stiles it seemed, Gerard dumped the seasoning over Stiles’ back.

Stiles was confused until he felt it: salt. The bastard had poured salt on him.

Before Stiles could react further, Gerard had a hunter whipping his back again, grinding the salt into his wounds with each strike.

Stiles bit his lip, trying to hold it together, but he couldn’t. He screamed. As they kept going, he just screamed bloody murder endlessly. Time was a blur—it lasted twenty years or just a few seconds. Stiles couldn’t tell.

But then there was rushed stomping down the basement stairs.

Stiles opened his tear-filled eyes to see what he thought was another man.

“What the hell are you doing? Did you somehow forget he’s the Sheriff’s kid?!”

Upon him speaking, Stiles knew it was Christopher Argent. That was not exactly who Stiles would prefer, but it was someone, and he had to try. He forced through his screaming-wrecked throat, “Please… please help us…”
_________________________

Chris had been debating what to do. His father had poor teens downstairs. The two wolves were just kids. They were fleeing a pack if he’d put it together right. Chris knew his father had it out for the Hales, but torturing kids? Even worse, kids who probably didn’t even know anything? It was torture for the sake of inflicting pain.

Wasn’t it bad enough to have been involved in burning out the Hales, children and all, six years ago? Now this? They’d not done anything, and those kids couldn’t help. They needed help, not Gerard.

However, Chris’ arguments with himself, talking himself up in a round about way to say no to his father, to draw a line, Chris heard a scream. Just one. At first, he thought it was a one off or maybe even him mishearing since he’d been distracted.

Chris wanted to be stronger, to charge down there, but he didn’t know if he was just walking to his death and wouldn’t make a damn bit of difference; however, then there was more screaming that was louder, more desperate and undeniable as well as continuous. This was too much! It had all been too much! He was a failure, but he could save these kids even if it was the last thing he ever did!

Unable to hold back, Chris stomped down the basement stairs only to see that the two wolves were unconscious, sagging on the fencing being electrocuted beyond even torturing for information. But more striking and churning his stomach was seeing the very human Stiles Stilinski, son of the Sheriff, strung up from one of the upper beams, dangling while his back was whipped to shreds.

The teen had black eyes, a busted lip and plenty of bruises from being run through quite thoroughly if his blackening rib bruises were anything to go by. The kid was bleeding all over himself and drooling a bit. He had taser burns all over one side on top of all the bruising. The poor teen looked beyond worse for wear.

Not able to stop himself, Chris shouted: “What the hell are you doing? Did you somehow forget he’s the Sheriff’s kid?!”

Then, even worse somehow, opening his seemingly unseeing tearful eyes, Stiles looked at Chris and pleaded, “Please… Please help us…”

The poor kid wasn’t even just asking for himself, but for all of them down there in pain. Worse yet though was the burn. Chris felt it on the bottom of his right foot as his soulmate mark burned as the words of his birthmark ignited as his soulmate pleaded for his help. Not thinking a single thought, Chris pulled his weapon from its holster and shot his father and the other two hunters down there in the head: three perfect shots.

Each shot likely deafening at such close range to the others, but nowhere near as blinding as hearing and feeling his soulmates words uttered in such desperation.

Stiles let out a sob at hearing the shots.

Chris wasted no time approaching the bloodied teen who flinched away from contact. Although he knew he shouldn’t, Chris cupped the kids’ cheeks softly, as he let out his gravelly voice, “It’s okay… they won’t hurt you ever again, I’ve got you. Just give me a moment to get you loose, okay?”

Watching as the soulmate birthmark of Stiles’ ignited on his back, Chris felt so much sorrow and furious rage at what his father had done on top of all the sadness and rage he’d already felt for all of the teens. There was no time for mourning the damage done just yet. Instead, Chris looked around and grabbed a machete sitting on a table nearby. He wrapped an arm around Stiles to support his weight before cutting the ropes holding him up with the blade.

Chris carefully settled Stiles on the ground before moving the machete out of the way. Chris then turned off the electrical current on the two teens on the fencing. Chris then knelt beside Stiles, settling a hand gently on his shoulder, careful to touch none of the open wounds. With his other hand, Chris pulled out his cell phone. Instead of calling other hunters or a clean up crew, Chris did what he both knew and feared was right: he called 911.

When the operator answered, Chris started by giving his address. He then said, “My name is Christopher Argent, the address I gave is my house. I am in the basement. You should contact the Sheriff and an ambulance as I have shot three people, defending my mate and two other teens that were being tortured my Gerard Argent.”

Although his voice was calm, distant even, Chris could hear the emotion and shock on the other end of the line before they got a hold of themselves and tried comforting him and assuring him help was on the way. Chris didn’t want comfort. He didn’t deserve it. “I don’t need comfort. Just get them here fast, Stiles is bleeding a lot.”

Chris then ended the call before fully sitting down. He didn’t care about the blood. It was the least he deserved. He helped Stiles get into a position where he could be more comfortable without pulling on the more painful wounds. Chris felt like he should cry: this was simply too much for that. He was too weak. Not only had he allowed his one and only daughter to be brought into this even though he didn’t want that, but now his soulmate?!

Hearing as the front door to the house was kicked in and a series of steps rushed in, Chris raised his voice: “DOWN HERE!”

But he didn’t dare move. No, Chris sat beneath a now splayed over his lap sobbing Stiles. Chris carefully ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair, aware the teen may not be consenting to this—too overwhelmed likely with trauma and pain based on what all Chris could see, could feel. Chris just wanted to impart whatever little bit of comfort he could to Stiles.

Chris didn’t even move as deputies and EMTs rushed down the basement stairs.

As the deputies approached the teens on the fencing, Chris said numbly, “I turned off the electricity after I got Stiles down.”

Soon, the Sheriff rushed down those stairs to the soundtrack of the deputies getting the other teens loose with one EMTs’ guidance on being careful of possible wounds.

The other EMT was trying to assess Stiles’ back, but every time it was touched, Stiles cried harder, flinching away.

Chris just stayed still, being Stiles’ possibly unwelcome rock.

The Sheriff approached, tears springing to his eyes as he saw the scene of his son. Swallowing past something, the man looked to Chris, demanding, “What happened?”

“So much,” Chris said, his own eyes a bit vacant. “My mate… my soulmate… was tortured.”

Even though in his head he sounded smart, Chris knew he was going into shock. From the moment their marks ignited, Chris started to feel Stiles’ physical pain, and that on top of the existing and growing emotional trauma? Yeah, Chris was fading into himself more and more. What could he say? Where could he go? His mate was being tortured, was hurt beyond what Chris’ was willing to comprehend. How could this happen?

Christopher had been so careful, had hid this one piece of himself. Gerard had not been a kind or gentle father. The abuse was intense, especially when Gerard had caught Chris dating one Peter Hale. If only people knew that was a hate crime… but Gerard believed that he had beaten the gay out him. Apparently, Gerard had failed on that front.

But Chris had always hidden his soulmate birthmark. He knew it could be a weapon; a weapon his father could use against him. Chris’ mother had known too. Gerard had beaten her for as long as Chris could remember up until her death, which Chris had always believed his father’d had a hand in as well. Chris’ mother even had him in socks from being a little baby as a form of protection even before Chris knew he needed it.

Chris even grew to be an annoying man who had sex with his socks on. That had been considered a quirk by Victoria, but it was simply protection. It was a precaution so that the last little bit of Chris could be safe, especially after the things that’d happened with Allison. He had to protect the birthmark of his soulmate’s words on the bottom of his foot more and more by the day, hour, minute, second… but he’d failed to protect what it represented.

The next thing Chris knew, some people were helping Stiles up to get him face first on a stretcher to be carried up to the ambulance. Even though he felt weak, Chris didn’t let it matter as he forced himself onto his feet. Even as he swayed, Chris tried to follow only for the Sheriff to take him by the arm to stop him.

Chris was about to fight the hold when it tightened and the Sheriff said, “Just wait. Let them get him up. Then I’ll help you up.”

Nodding numbly, Chris watched his soulmate be shuffled up the stairs by the EMTs and a deputy who helped angle them as needed.

Once that was done, the Sheriff helped Chris up the stairs out into a second ambulance. Chris pulled on where his arm was held and supported—“I have to go with him.”

The Sheriff shook his head. “No, they need the room to work on him. I’m going with you in the second ambulance since I can’t go with him either. We’re going to meet him there though.”

Without waiting for Chris to respond, the Sheriff manhandled Chris into the other ambulance and got him sitting on the stretcher in the back with the help of another EMT who was already in the vehicle.

Soon they were speeding off, the sirens blaring.

Chris barely registered the noise, lost in his own mind, feeling even more distanced from himself and lost in his thoughts. Stiles, Stiles, Stiles… Stiles Stilinski, son of the Sheriff, mischievous best friend of Scott McCall, the idiot dating his daughter. Stiles … Stiles… a teenager. It ran in a loop in his head. How could this be happening?

Before he knew it, Chris was being led into a hospital room. When did he get out of the ambulance? How long was the drive? How did they even get here? Weren’t they parked? Where was the Sheriff? Stiles?

Where was Stiles? Stiles?!

Chris was pressed into a seat just before a bed was being rolled in with an unconscious but very bandaged Stiles laying on his stomach with his head laid on his folded arms.

Unable to stop himself, Chris reached out to softly touch Stiles’ arm. It confirmed two things for Chris: Stiles was alive, and Stiles was going to live. After a deep breath, Chris pulled out his phone with his bloody hands.

Before he could dial a single number, the Sheriff stepped into the room looking ten years older with what all Stiles had been through. The man looked to Chris before holding up a hand to stop Chris from speaking, “I need to say two things to inform you and then ask two questions before you say anything. One, Stiles is going to pull through. Two, Stiles’ birthmark was badly damaged. My first question is did you in ANY way hurt my son?”

Chris swallowed. “Yes. I didn’t go down there soon enough.”

Frowning, the Sheriff then asked, “Are you claiming that you murdered those three men in defense of your mate?”

Chris nodded. After a deep breath, Chris said, “I would like to give my interview now. I... I don’t want to be separated from Stiles right now. I… I can’t take it. The guilt is already bad enough, but I would like to give an interview not only about what happened in that basement that I called 911 for, but about years of abuse, the Hale fire, and my failings. Then, after all of that, privately, between just you, Stiles, and myself, explain what has been going on around in town for the past few weeks and why it’s happening.”

Frowning harder, the Sheriff straightened up. “Let’s start with the official statement. Let me grab another officer, as I would be considered biased.”

Chris nodded, muttering absently, “More than you know.”

After stepping out of the room for a few minutes, the Sheriff returned with another deputy and a tape recorder. The Sheriff moved to stand on the other side of Stiles’ hospital bed from Chris while the deputy approached Chris.

The deputy pulled up a chair near Chris, saying, “My name is Deputy Reed. Is it okay for me to record this?”

Chris nodded.

Deputy Reed turned on the tape recorder, then said, “This is Deputy Reed in Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital with Christopher Argent. Sheriff Noah Stilinski is also in the room as well as his son Stiles Stilinski, who is currently unconscious in his hospital bed. Christopher, can you please start from the beginning?”

With another nod, Chris said, “Please, call me Chris. It started some time before I was born, I suspect. People do not just wake up a monster one day. I chose to believe there is either a build up or major event that triggered it. I refuse to believe that people are born that way now that I have a child of my own. Who could ever see a baby and believe that they were evil in any way?’

“My father, Gerard Argent, abused me for as long as I can remember. He sometimes called it ‘punishment’ for wrong doings or showing his ‘dominance’ like when it was him doing it to my mom whom he also abused for my entire life until she died, which although I have no proof of, have always believed him to have been involved in, especially with his paying off the coroner to rush her cremation before there could be any question of an autopsy. He sometimes called the abuse ‘making a man’ of me.’

“He once called it ‘straightening me out’ after he discovered that I was in a homosexual relationship with Peter Hale as a teenager. My father nearly beat me to death before forcing me and the family to pick up everything from Beacon Hills and move to the other side of the country where he quickly put me into an arranged marriage with my late wife Victoria.”

The deputy held up her hand to stop him. “Are you saying that the Hale fire was a hate crime?”

Chris nodded. “Of course. It was both a hate crime and was led up to with a sex crime I only recently learn of.”

“A sex crime?”

“Yes, my younger sister Kathrine Argent, better known as Kate Argent, seduced and sexually violated a minor—Derek Hale—to learn intimate secrets of the family house like it’s lay out and even some emergency tunnels for in case something happened for them to get out safely. I assumed, when I found out about it, that it had to do with an uncle Peter once mentioned off handedly when we were younger who was incredibly paranoid.’

“But, using that knowledge, Kate managed to block the exits, so that when the fire broke out the family couldn’t escape out the tunnels, and by the time they realized they couldn’t escape that way they’d all be severely burned if they’d not already having succumbed to smoke inhalation.’

“It was horribly cruel and beyond anything I would have ever imagine my little sister doing, let alone under my father’s orders.”

The sheriff then cut in, “And why didn’t you come forward with this knowledge sooner?”

“I only learned it within the last week or two, and Gerard threatened my daughter, Allison. He said if I came forward, what he did to the Hales would seem like mercy next to what he would do to her,” Chris said without shame. “I had to protect her from what I went through with that man and my wife.”

“Your wife abused you?” Deputy Reed asked.

Chris shrugged. “Not physically. She was more manipulative and emotionally abusive. I was primed for it in many ways. I was denied so much love and care after my mother died. She used affection as well as my love for my daughter to keep me in line.”

Shaking his head at himself, Chris let more out. “I know that I have been a failure in so many ways in my life. But seeing that he was trying to take my daughter down the same road as Kate despite my coming to heel was too much, and then hearing him was torturing someone in my own fucking basement?”

Chris rubbed his face with his hands before dropping them limply into his lap, Chris continued, “I couldn’t take it. I was about to run down there and put an end to it even it is cost my life, but then I heard screaming. It was so pained, scared, just so much… I rushed down there, yelled at my father when I saw not only was there more than one person down there, but three teens. Even worse, one of them was the Sheriff’s kid! They were electrocuting the two on the fencing whipping the back of Stiles. Then… then Stiles asked for help… he spoke the specific words of my soulmate birthmark on the bottom of my foot. It ignited the mark on the bottom of my foot. I didn’t even think. I unholstered my weapon and fired it at all three men doing the torturing—my father, the one doing the whipping, and the one turning up the power on the electrified fence.’

“I got Stiles down, settled on the ground first, and then I stopped the electricity for the others. After that, I joined Stiles on the ground. Next thing was my front down getting kicked down and people rushing down to help. I’m sure everyone else knows the rest.”

Deputy Reed nodded before asking, “Are you aware of the identities of the other teens?”

Chris shook his head. “No, I don’t. I… I worry though if they’re okay. Are they okay? Was I fast enough for them to be okay too?”

Holding back his numerous questions they couldn’t answered as well as so many other things, Chris sighed, exhausted. He rubbed his face with his hands before he took some deep breaths. He was so screwed at this point.

Deputy Reed said, “I believe they are, but if it changes, I’ll see if someone can inform you. Do you have anything else to add?”

Chris shook his head.

With a distinct nod, deputy Reed ended the recording before standing up. “If we have any other questions, we will get ahold of you.”

Nodding himself, Chris said, “Okay. Thank you.”

Deputy Reed gave him a sad look before nodding again and heading out.

Sheriff Noah Stilinski kept looking at Chris with a frown.

However, things got more chaotic when Stiles startled awake. He seemed to see Chris first, saying in rapid fire, “I’ve got to go. My dad can’t find out! It’ll put him in danger! Are Erica and Boyd okay?”

Chris held up his hands in surrender, saying, “Slow down. You’re in the hospital getting treated. Your dad will be safe. I killed Gerard and the two others that were torturing you and the others. Erica and Boyd are in the hospital too. Deputy Reed said they’re okay.”

Stiles stared at Chris—“You called the cops?!”

Despite being plugged into monitors and having an IV in, Stiles started moving like he was about to walk out.

Chris was on his feet in seconds, careful not to startle Stiles if it could be helped. “No, you need to stay here. You have serious wounds.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Serious wounds my ass. The Jackson lizard is still out there, and so are the others… and fuck, I’ve got to get out of here!”

“Is that right?” Noah said, finally making his presence known.

Stiles went wide eyed, shifting to look at his father. Swallowing hard, Stiles then said, “Okay, no fair Chris, not warning me he was here, anyways, I have to go.”

“Like hell—” Noah started.

However, Chris held up a hand to stop the man. “Why do you have to go Stiles?”

“Are you kidding me? Even with Gerard dead, no one is pulling Jackson’s strings, and last I knew he was still evolving! He’s a huge danger! He’ll kill them! Hell, he’ll kill all of us, too,” Stiles responded like Chris was a moron.

With a decisive nod, Chris said, “Okay, we’ll do this, but I need two things from you if this is what you need to do. One, you’re bringing me with you. Two, we’re bringing your dad.”

“What?” Stiles and Noah said at the same time.

Chris put up both his hands again, “I know, Sheriff that this doesn’t make any sense to you right now, but you should know. Please let us explain. Stiles, on the drive, you need to tell your dad what’s really been going on.”

Both looked at Chris like he had two heads.

The hunter took it in stride, saying, “Sheriff, we need you to head out of the hospital like you’ve been called in or are needed elsewhere. Meet us around back in your vehicle. We’ll meet you there shortly. I promise, on the drive, everything will be explained.”

The sheriff gave Chris, and then Stiles, stern looks before he walked out.

Stiles then turned on Chris. “What the hell are you doing?! You’re going to get him killed!”

Chris gathered calm, saying, “Quiet down. Him not knowing will get him killed. I understand keeping him in the dark. I really do. I’ve done it myself with things, but you’ve already seen how that’s gone with Allison. Will your dad start hunting? No, probably not, but he will charge into something to protect you someday and end up dead due to not knowing. The time for secrets on that front is up, so… I’m going to help you tell your dad and in exchange, you can be there when I lay the law down on Allison. Deal?”

Stiles stared at him like he lost his mind before saying, “Fine, but you get to deal with whatever Scott has to do as a consequence.”

Tilting his head a little bit, Chris realized that Stiles got him a bit at a loss there. Even though he didn’t know what all that may entail, he shrugged and said, “Sure, now, let me get you out of here and to your dad, so we can deal with things.”

_________________________

Stiles couldn’t believe it. He was in his dad’s service vehicle, having to have the supernatural conversation while making his dad and Chris aware that they needed to go get Lydia. While his dad was not taking the supernatural well, Noah was at least trying to listen. He even let Chris and him pick up Stiles’ vehicle when they grabbed Stiles some clothes from home.

Even though he wasn’t at one hundred percent and hurt like crazy, Stiles was not letting people down. Instead, he’d convinced his dad and Chris of a three-pronged attack: the Sheriff’s cruiser, Chris’s SUV, and Stiles’ Jeep. It would be good. No deaths, ideally!

As much as he knew the other two hated the plan, Stiles took Lydia in his vehicle as if he got caught speeding, he’d be in far less trouble than the others. As a result, Stiles and Lydia beat the other vehicles there and managed to slam the Jeep into Jackson-the-Lizard in time to save a life.

Stiles was quick out of the vehicle, despite feeling weak. He made it around to Lydia’s side of the vehicle in time for her to use the magic of love on Jackson after Derek and Peter (how the hell was he alive?!) had stabbed through him with claws and got nowhere with it.

Chris bust onto the scene as did his dad from different directions at an angle from Stiles’ arrival.

Both the Sheriff and Chris came out of their vehicles with their weapons out.

While Gerard wasn’t there, a few hunters eager to take over control of Jackson were present and armed, opening fire on the sheriff and Chris.

Chris took two out with head shots, and the sheriff got the other two in the their knee caps.

Derek had some serious attitude about an Argent being there, but he had to keep it down with the Sheriff there or so he thought.

Stiles stared dangers at Peter as he came up to the teen, saying, “Hmm… where have you been? You smell like blood.”

Chris shot Peter in the shoulder.

The Wolf growled at Chris, not seeming to care about the sheriff being right there.

Derek went to intercede, but he stopped when the sheriff shot Peter just in front of Peter as a warning shot.

The sheriff said coolly, “Careful Hale, wouldn’t want to mess up and have Chris kill another person tonight to defend his mate.”

Stiles facepalmed at that.

Peter actually looked surprised. He then looked at Chris before he demanded, “Who?”

“Gerard… and a couple other hunters who were there. Gerard caught Stiles, Erica, and Boyd. He was torturing them in his—my basement.”

Derek, Peter, Isaac, and Scott growled at that.

Stiles pointed at Scott—“Don’t you dare.”

Scot frowned. “Not getting after them, too?!”

“They didn’t turn over all of my evidence against Gerard TO Gerard. Also, I’ve helped kill Peter once… can I not have a break before anyone tries to again?”

Peter grinned.

Now Stiles pointed at Peter—“No flirting. That was not flirting.”

Looking at Stiles, Noah said, “Are you serious? Mentioning killing someone—again—is flirting?”

Shrugging, Stiles said. “What? The man tried to werewolf marry me. I’ve got to draw some lines somewhere.”

“WHAT?!” pretty much everyone but Jackson and Lydia said at once.

Except also, of course, Peter who just grinned wider as if getting caught only made it better.

“I mean it, Peter,” Stiles said.

Peter shrugged. “That mean it’s still a no now that you have more information?”

“Yes, it’s still a no,” Stiles said, visibly exasperated. “Now, dad, can you please take Lydia and Jackson home?”

The sheriff looked at his son with skepticism as if to ask ‘seriously,’ but then just sighed and shook his head.

Derek seemed far more perturbed, moving to Stiles side, though notably not touching or pushing Stiles around. “Are you okay with this? I know he’s… older. I could stop this if you wanted.”

Looking at Derek with such care and sympathy, Stiles said, “It’s not like her. We’ve not even talked about what being mates means. I’m okay, and if something happens, I promise to talk to you about it.”

Derek nodded before herding Peter and Isaac away.

Scott was left to fend for himself since no one went out of their way to help or guide him one way or another beyond Stiles’ dad giving the teen a dirty look that screamed he’d be talking to Melissa.

_________________________

About forty minutes later…

Stiles had been questioned. Chris too. Together with the Sheriff, they’d helped stop more of Gerard’s men from abducting and hurting two other teens. The sheriff promised it wouldn’t lead to the supernatural, but he was clear that Stiles was grounded for at least a week.

Chris took Stiles back to the hospital, apologizing profusely to the nurses and others as he came clean about helping Stiles sneak out. It was a necessary risk, but he was still sorry. It was weird. Chris felt like he’d explained himself and his actions more in the last six hours than he had in a very long time. The closest would be him trying to defend himself against Victoria, but even then, he wasn’t so open about his own feelings in the matter.

Aware it couldn’t be just having a mate, Chris wondered if Stiles’ openness was already rubbing off on him. Shrugging at himself, Chris went with Stiles to his room. Previously, they’d been waiting for him to regain consciousness to answer some questions, etc. But now, they need to re-examine him to make sure he hadn’t further hurt himself and nothing had been ripped or torn, especially once Chris made Stiles share that he’d been in a car accident while out of the hospital.

While they waited for the testing and imaging that they’d forced Stiles into to come back and be reviewed by the doctor, Chris and Stiles got to spend some time alone together.

Once again in so little time, Chris was unable to help himself. This time, it was to say, “Has anyone ever told you that in the right light, your eyes look golden, like fresh honey in the sunlight?”

Stiles shook his head like Chris was ridiculous, but blushed bright pink no less.

It made Chris smile.

Playing with his fingers, Stiles sighed, “Look, I get the whole myth of the whole soulmate thing, but I’m going to be honest, after seeing how it killed my dad to lose my mom, I’m pretty afraid. The realities of the supernatural and all… I don’t want to lose you or have you lose me. It’s brutal.”

Chris nodded in understanding. “I understand, but that won’t stop me from wanting to be in your life and somehow make it the best it can be.”

Stiles nodded. “Figured it may be the case. What’re… what do you want this to be? I mean, you are a hunter, and I am very much not.”

Smiling softly, Chris said, “Well, I’d like to take you on a date, but I think you may be too young for—”

Stiles shook his head. “No, I am not too young for that!”

Chris sighed, “You’re still in high school, Stiles.”

Shaking his head, Stiles said, “Oh well! I am eighteen. So, old enough.”

Chris frowned. “I thought Scott was—”

Stiles shook his head again, “No. I got held back when my mom got sick when I was younger. I’m eighteen years old, legal all the way.”

After chuckling a bit, Chris said, “Okay, okay. Well, then maybe a date. Someplace nice that you’ll like.”

Nodding in success, Stiles asked, “What kinds of things do you like? Beside hunting, of course.”

“Well, I like camping, I guess, though mostly the fishing part of that. But I think cooking and food are my passion,” Chris said.

Stiles asked, “Does that mean you would’ve become a chef if you’d not been raised a hunter?”

Chris shrugged. “We’ll never know, but I do know that my mom made a delicious roast lamb’s leg with goat cheese salad. She taught me many recipes. I’m sure some time I could cook for you.”

Grinning widely, Stiles said, “I’d like that.”

Chris stepped closer to where Stiles sat on the hospital bed and placed a soft, chaste kiss on his lips. “Consider it a promise, then.”