Chapter Text
“Hello, handsome.” Deucalion smirks as he descends the defunct escalator. “Why so stoic?” he continues heading straight for Peter ignoring Derek and the pups until he stands directly in front of Peter. He pats Peter’s cheek condescendingly, “A pretty face like yours shouldn’t wear such a frown.”
Peter shrugs away from him appearing nonchalant, “Hello, Deuce. It’s been a long time. And my, how things have changed.” He says cuttingly. Playing with fire again. “Demon wolf now, I hear. Congratulations. It’s very catchy. I especially liked the touch with the lightning; did you have to wait for a storm or is cheap melodrama one of your new demon powers?”
Deucalion smirks and quirks his head, but before he can reply Derek interrupts with a growled, “You know him?”
Deucalion tsks and Peter rolls his eyes, “You haven’t told them?” Deucalion asks, feigning surprise.
“If you’ll recall, there’s nothing to tell, Deucalion.” Peter says through grit teeth.
“Oh,” Deucalion says with mocking surprise, “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten all those hunts we ran together.” he says as he circles Peter slowly, “all those nights out under the stars. All. Those. Moons.” he says, dragging his long white cane in a small circle around Peter’s feet.
“I remember” Peter says, “more than just the two of us.”
Deucalion’s smirk melts away as he completes the circle.
Peter ignores the warning and adds, “Oh and your eyes still worked then. The years haven’t been ki-” Deucalion slaps him and the blow takes him to his knees. His ears ring and his face is hot and stinging. Derek growls but doesn’t move to defend him. The packs posture and shift their stances as lines are drawn. He is on the wrong side: in enemy territory. He meets Derek’s eyes for a scant second before Deucalion’s torso fills his vision. He is in enemy territory and no one is coming for him.
Deucalion’s clawed hand fists in his hair and pulls back, exposing his throat to a room full of werewolves. Peter struggles but Deucalion shakes him and then there are claws at the back of his neck in a particular vertical pattern and he knows what that means and freezes even as Deucalion quietly tells him to hold still if he wants to avoid another coma, but there’s no time to move or struggle or even brace himself before Deucalion is in his head and everything takes on a trance-like quality, hazy and distant.
He comes out of it face down, lying on his belly. There are voices, but it takes a moment to make sense of the words.
“Why should we let you have him?” Derek asks and Peter must be coming to slower than he thought because it takes another moment to realize that Derek is talking about him, about letting Deuce have him.
Deucalion laughs at Derek, but it sounds like scoffing, “You hate him.” he says with his silky, deep voice and Peter knows he’s in trouble because he knows just how persuasive Deuce can be (and also how easily swayed and manipulated Derek can be. Gullible.) “He killed your sister. He’s weak. He’s a liability to you.” Deucalion continues and he makes it all seem so natural, so casual.
Peter rolls onto his side. He needs to start making a case for himself because fuck him if everything Deucalion has said isn’t true and he isn’t even trying yet.
“He doesn’t care about your pack.” Deuce continues, “After all, you can always make more werewolves,” he says, throwing Peter’s words back in his face. Words he only knows because he stole them right out of Peter’s own head.
“Derek...” Peter chokes out as he pushes himself to his knees, but Deucalion interrupts him with a hand fisted in his hair again.
“Come on, Derek. You can let us take your murderous uncle, who’s almost certainly plotting against you, off your hands or” and Deucalion’s other hand wraps around his neck, “I can kill him now and we can all have a skirmish and your pack will sustain heavy casualties and you still won’t have dear Uncle Peter to help you in the future.”
Derek growls loudly and Peter tenses. Derek had come here intending to fight. He wasn’t thinking about casualties he just wanted blood. He probably wouldn’t have killed Peter with his own hands without provocation, but for a moment Peter thinks Derek will do it, will let Deucalion rip his head off just to start an unwinnable war.
But he doesn’t and Peter’s heart is beating very fast but he’s thinking faster. A plan is coming together, pieces are beginning to fit. There’s a history to this dance that Derek doesn’t know but there’s a newness and a desperation too. There are questions buzzing through his mind, so many questions, missing puzzle pieces, but he can solve this if he just gets the answers. His eyes flick up to Deuce’s face. The answers are in the lion’s den. So that’s where he’ll go. Deucalion wants him for a reason, that’s for damn sure, and it has nothing to do with their personal history. He’s going to find out why. And more hopefully.
He gives Derek what he hopes is a significant look. Derek seems to interpret it as desperation and loyalty and growls loudly. Peter sighs and restrains himself from rolling his eyes. He really didn’t want to do this, but Derek is too simply loyal, too sentimental, too out of sync with Peter to realize Peter’s intentions from a pointed look alone.
“If you’re trying to save my life, Derek, I’ll probably be safer in the alpha pack than with you and your gang of high schoolers.” he drawls, trying to look disdainful while on his knees.
Derek looks utterly stricken for a very brief second before his brows return to their usual furrowed position. Peter does not allow himself to flinch at the hurt expression. But he gets exactly the response he wants.
“What do we get out of this?” Derek asks, folding his arms across his chest like an arrogant businessman. He comes across as a petulant child. Peter does allow himself a flinch at the terrible negotiation opener.
Deucalion gives raises a single eyebrow and smirks. One finger strokes Peter’s neck absently and he says, “Well, I’ll let you all walk away from this derelict structure with not even a scratch. That must be worth something, considering you came to challenge us.”
Derek growls and digs himself deeper, “You killed one of my betas!”
Peter interrupts the tete a tete with a snort. “Negotiation really isn’t your strong suit, Derek. Allow me.” Peter says. “Our offer is complete amnesty for the pack, including McCall, for their families, for their friends and minimal collateral damage for the bystanders.”
Deucalion nearly purrs, but his smirk clearly broadcasts the pleasure he’s experiencing from the situation.
“And my terms are you, fully and completely. You will join my pack and you will submit to me as my beta.”
Derek opens his mouth to...Peter doesn’t know, but it doesn’t matter, “Done.” He says, with finality and Deucalion hauls him to his feet, releasing the hold on his hair, but keeping a hand on his nape. Peter shivers under his touch.
There is a stand off for a few brief moments. Derek hadn’t quite agreed and he was the alpha. He could still start something but with the safety of his pack now guaranteed he couldn’t afford to let this bargain go. Even if it involved selling a blood relative to their enemies.
Derek looks wrecked, shocked and conflicted. He didn’t like Peter. Hadn’t trusted him. Hadn’t cared to fight for him. But now, now that he knew Peter was on his side, was willing to make the sacrifice for the pack, for Derek’s pack and now that he was in a position that he couldn’t afford to defend him...it was one more failure on his part to save someone, anyone. Peter being family only made it worse. And of course he realized now that Peter had played him. That his words only moments before were to make him angry, to force him into this choice. Their eyes meet and hold for a moment.
“Go home, Derek.” he says and looks away. Deucalion tugs him around by the neck and they walk away. Deuce runs his hand along Peter’s shoulder and down his arm and finally settles on a grip high on Peter’s forearm. Absurdly the position reminds Peter of a prince escorting a princess, but the sudden image doesn’t make him feel like laughing. Instead he feels a seeping sickness deep in his stomach that he didn’t expect as he walks slowly further away from his pack.
It feels like homesickness.