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“So you’re not gonna kill me?” If Stiles were a normal teenager, he would regret the question the second it escapes his mouth. Of all the stupid things he could have done, drawing the attention of a psychopath that is about to leave Stiles alone and alive surely ranks pretty high on the ‘idiot’ listing. The thing is, Stiles is not a normal teenager, and so he does not regret the question. He wants Peter’s attention.
Peter freezes for a brief moment before turning around, face twisted in something resembling pained exasperation. Stiles is familiar with that expression – his dad wears it more often than not – but he is not fooled by it. Peter’s eyes give him away. Peter’s stare is too curious, too intent, and too monstrously gleeful for Stiles to believe in any way that this is not in some way pre-scripted, that Peter thinks he understands him to such a degree that nothing Stiles does or says will be a surprise.
“Don’t you understand, yet?” Peter says. “I’m not the bad guy here.”
Stiles raises an eyebrow, thinks about giving the obvious answer - giant monsters with red eyes and fangs are always the bad guys – and decides against it. See, the thing about Stiles is he is smart, too. He is in no way oblivious; he keeps his eyes and ears open, and he is an old hand at thinking outside the box. He does his research, covers his bases, and figures things out.
He thinks.
A lot.
Peter, Stiles is coming to understand, is something of a tactical genius, someone who did not like to play chess because there is no challenge in it, not like there is when one plays with people. Unlike chess pieces, people are not bound to rules of movement or rationality. People are fluid, changeable, and often insane or emotionally driven. Playing with people, Stiles privately thought, is often like playing chess with a board full of Queens. And Peter has had a lot of practice playing this game, and he is clearly playing the long-term game right now. The short-term goal is vengeance, but after? What comes after? Stiles thinks he knows. After all, Peter and Stiles are not at all that different from each other, even if Peter is not quite aware of that just yet.
Revenge is not going to be enough; it will never be enough. Peter is not going to stop killing once Kate bites the big one. That vendetta will spread first to Chris and Victoria and Allison, and then to any other who dares bear the name Argent. From there…? Well. There is a whole world full of people who are alive and well and happy while Peter’s family is naught but ash and remembered screams. Peter needs a pack, because he is right in that a pack will make him stronger, more capable of dealing with threats as they come. He also needs a pack to help rebuild, because there is no greater revenge than living and living well. More importantly, if Stiles remembers his lore right, Peter will need a mate, an equal to act as both anchor and foil, someone equal but opposite.
And thus, here they are, and here Peter is. Stiles can see the way this will play out if he cooperates with Peter’s machinations: some banter, a bit of seduction, followed by an offer made all the more tempting for everything Peter will not say. It is an intricate game Peter is playing, but….
Stiles would be more impressed if it were not for the fact that the person Peter is trying to play technically does not exist. ‘Stiles’ is nothing more than a reflection, a misdirection to keep others from understanding just how broken he really is inside. So instead of giving Peter the obvious answer, the answer a self-absorbed teenager would give, he does the opposite. He drops all his masks and pretenses, sheds his false skin, and peels off Stiles.
Peter cocks his head, face so exquisitely blank, but his eyes …his eyes are burning alpha-red. Peter is smart. Peter is observant. Peter is more than capable of adapting to new challenges as they arise. That is part of being able to play the game; only rank amateurs are incapable of rolling with things. And Peter is no amateur.
Peter smiles, slow and mischievous.
Genim smiles in return. “Aren't you?”