Visionary Part 2

                                    

                                          
    I listened with intensity to the story. Peter had his arms splayed across the back of the couch while Cora sat on the desk. Stiles and I sat in chairs near each other. His hand was playing with his lips as he listened. 
                          
    "Okay, so if Derek was a sophomore back then, how old was he?" Stiles asked, his investigative side forcing through. 
                          
    "How old were you?" I asked to Peter, wanting to sound like I thought he was old. Instead, I probably sounded the way I looked. Hooked into the story. 

                          
    "How old are you now?" Stiles asked, sounding the way I wished I had sounded.
                          
    "Not as young as we could've been, but not as old as you might think," Peter answered.
                          
    "Okay, that was frustratingly vague," Stiles replied. I looked over to see Cora staring at Stiles, and I rolled my eyes. He pointed to her. "How old are you?"
                          
    "17."
                          
    "See, that's an answer. That's how we answer people," Stiles griped, pursing his lips at Derek. I glared at Cora, who smirked at me. Why was she so infuriating?
                          
    "Well, 17 how you'd measure in years," Cora added.
                          
    "Alright, I'm just gunna drop it," Stiles replied quickly, holding up his hand to say enough. It was my turn to smirk at her. No matter how hard she tried, he would still be mine, and she couldn't take that away.
                          
    "So, what happened with Derek and Paige?" I asked, hugging my knees to my chest as I leaned forward in my seat in anticipation for the story. I was pretty sure I saw Stiles smile at me from the corner of my eye, but I couldn't help the fact that I was a helpless romantic. 
                          
    Peter didn't seem to care about my need for the romance, because he replied, "What do you think happened? They were teenagers. One minute, it's 'I hate you, don't talk to me', the next it's frantic groping in any dark corner they can manage to find themselves alone in for five minutes." 
                          
    Stiles scooted his chair a little closer to me and draped his arm across me. I was too deep in the story notice it consciously, but subconsciously, I was leaping for joy.
                          
    "Their favorite dark corner was an abandoned distillery outside of Beacon Hills."
                          
    Derek pulled Paige into the building, and almost instantly, they were in each other's arms. Their lips would touch and it would stop the world for a second, and it made Derek crazy every time her skin touched his. Her lips were so soft, it seemed like he was simply making up a figment of his imagination. They-
                          
    "Alright, hold up," Stiles interrupted. I sighed heavily, placing my forehead on my knees for a second as I was, once again, dragged out of the tale. "How do you know all this? You just said that they were alone." I lifted my head to peer at Peter. Had he been spying on them? Watching them... you know? And suddenly the story was less romantic. 
                          
    Peter leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Back then, I wasn't just Derek's uncle. I was his best friend. His closest confidant. That's how I know." 
                          
    Whether or not that was true, I was quick to believe it. I smacked Stiles' arm gently.
                          
    "Yeah, Stiles. His confidant. Now, stop interrupting," I said, giving my undivided attention back to Peter while Stiles chuckled lightly and rubbed small circles on my back. 
                          
    Paige pulled away from the kiss, sighing. 
                          
    "What?" Derek asked, concern clouding his features. Paige stepped back and squinted up at him, her little mole jumping with the movement.