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Peter does not understand his daughter. Malia is nothing like him, running head first into dangerous situations, trying to help people for no reason other than the idea that they’re friends. Ridiculous.
He knows she’s his daughter because he took hair from her hairbrush and had the DNA tested with his own. There was a hope that maybe she wasn’t his, but the results came back that she’s absolutely his child. Without his intelligence or winning sense of humor or instincts for self-preservation. Or good looks and probably other things as well. Don't get him started on her fashion sense.
And now, released by the Ghost Riders, she seems to think they have a relationship. Sure, he protected her as best as he could, saved her once or twice, but there’s no need to start planning Daddy-daughter lunches.
“For god’s sake, Peter, stop being a stubborn jack-ass and just come to the pack meeting, okay? Scott says you should be there; if you’re not really pack, you’re… pack adjacent,” she says, pacing in front of him while he sits on his sofa, reading a book. How did she even find out where he lives?
“I have no reason to go and listen to Scott ramble about how the infants are going to be in charge of Beacon Hills when he goes off to college.” He puts down his book and cocks an eyebrow at her. “How did he manage to get into college anyway? From what I’ve heard, he barely attended high school this year.”
“Yeah, well, Stiles helped him study at the end and he passed all his exams, so…” she sighs and says, “You should come. Stiles is gone and Scott’s going. You’re going to be the senior wolf around. We might need you.”
He picks up his book again and says, “Well, color me flattered, but not interested. Besides, I can’t promise I’m going to stay here. This city is toxic and I think Stiles was right -- get as far away as possible.”
Malia sits on the couch, not quite within touching distance and studies him. “You’re leaving? Really? Where? When?”
He closes the book again, sighing. “Yes, really. I’m not sure where, I haven’t decided. And I haven’t decided when yet. But I am definitely going; honestly, you should leave, too.”
“I can’t,” she says, turning her face away and frowning. “First, I have to finish summer school. And I think I’m going to do some community college here. And… I live here. My Dad is here and Stiles’ dad and Melissa … I live here, Peter.”
“I’m sure there’s schools in other cities, but you do what’s best for you.” Peter watches as she stands and heads to the door, head down and smelling miserable. “Oh for god’s sake,” he says and slaps the book down on the end table. “I’ll go with you, at least so I can gloat about how much of a blood bath you’re all in for.”
“Thanks,” she says, practically bouncing on her toes.
“I think Liam is an idiot, but Mason has potential. I might even be willing to give him a copy of the beastiary.”
Malia grins and says, “He’s already got it; Stiles gave it to him before he left.”
“That figures, I knew I liked that boy,” Peter says, nudging Malia out of his apartment and locking the door behind him.
“I know you do,” she says and studies him. “Are you going to DC? Do you really like him?”
He looks at her and sees the smug, sneaky look in her eyes and thinks maybe she is a little bit of a Hale after all. Cora, not Derek. “I’m not sure where I’m going. I wish the east coast were warmer.”
She grins again, flashing her eyes. “I think you’d be comfortable there, with your cold heart.”
“You’re a brat,” he says, leading her down the hall to wait for the elevator. “You’re certainly not my spawn.”
He’s surprised and stiffens when she puts her arms around him and pulls him close for a hug. When she rubs her cheek against his, scenting him, he relaxes and hugs her back.
Peter raises an eyebrow and flashes his eyes at her. “Do not do that again.”
“You liked it,” she snips back.
“Not my spawn,” he states, and he puts his hand on the back of her neck, just to be sure she doesn’t get lost on the way to his car. Maybe he has family here after all.