Chapter Text
The world outside was covered in white and the sun stood high above the treetops, it was a beautiful day Chris thought as he came to a stop near the backdoor of the house he’d come to call home. There was a peacefulness to the world suddenly that Chris hadn’t felt before or perhaps he’d never stopped to appreciate it enough to recognize it. The hunter stood there breathing in the scent of this unfamiliar world he now found himself standing in, the chopped wood seated heavily in the wooden crate that he continued to hold even while the dull ache in his arms increased.
Since his husbands departure one which Chris had pestered him about doing much sooner, Chris had kept himself occupied as best he could which was not an easy task to do since their home even during Chris slump was kept in immaculate condition since both Chris and Peter were of the same mind when it came to keeping house, still Chris had done what he could to keep his mind from wandering to worrisome thoughts that always seemed to carry the same dreadful idea that Peter wouldn’t come back, or that he would but without their son, which was perhaps the reason why Chris continued to pester his better-half with requests for updates on Peter’s travel. Chris would’ve asked about their son too, asked for pictures but there was always a danger there that held Chris back from asking about their son.
They had to be extra cautious Peter had said, after all their little boy hadn’t been living with a man who made his living flipping burgers but a Sheriff, a man of the law had friends and supporters a burger flipping nobody had. Still Chris wished Peter could’ve just returned straight home instead of making detours and changing cars while Chris just waited uselessly.
Honestly Chris wanted to beg Peter to just come home already, he was itching to ask the man for whom he’d killed without thought or regret to stop being so overly cautious. There was also a selfless part of Chris that wanted Peter to cut the journey short since the possibility of their little ones medication taking a wrong turn increased the longer it was allowed to enter the small body of their child, Chris just couldn’t take losing yet another child.
Chris wanted his husband and child home where they would be safe, where there was no risk of either one being captured, Chris wasn’t sure his heart would be able to take it if he saw his mates face on the evening news handcuffed or their son in the arms of this of the man who’d found his wife dead and the child he called his son gone; it would be the deathblow to Chris to see his son in the arms of this man who would never devote as much time and love on Chris’ son as Chris would, it would destroy Chris to see Peter treated like some common criminal.
It wasn’t easy for Chris to feel this useless and alone, unable to contribute made him feel small and weak.
The hunter kept himself busy as best he could during days, chopping wood to last them for days and checking on the fence surrounding their property, he’d cleared the road leading up to the road , he’d happily unpacked the new set of clothes that had arrived for their son and washed and dried them before ironing away any creases before folding them all nicely up before placing them all in their rightful place; Chris couldn’t wait to see his little boy all dressed-up in his fine new clothes, Peter had spared no expenses when it came to Allison’s clothes and clearly the same would continue with their son and Chris didn’t mind it all after all they should spoil their son rotten.
He’d spent hours on hours making sure that the house was as welcoming as possible for both Peter and their little boy, he’d also managed to get all the presents all wrapped-up for Christmas most of which were for the little boy that he really wanted to spoil rotten, especially now that he knew how easily one could lose a child; the thought of Allison still stings his heart fiercely but he thinks she would want him to find happiness again with her baby brother, and so he shakes the grief off and heads inside the house that he and Peter had spent days preparing for the arrival of their beautiful son.
When Peter had told him that he’d found a child for them Chris hadn’t felt anything, he’d just gone along with Peter’s wishes like he’d done since the moment they’d lost Allison, Chris didn’t eat without Peter prompting him to do so, but then their son had appeared asking for his help and suddenly there had been hope and happiness once more to be seen through the dark clouds; Chris had known the moment he’d seen his little boy standing there in clothes that were far too big for his little body and with cheeks flushed that this was his son, and he’d wanted him and Peter always got him what he wanted.
Breathing in slowly and steadying his grip of the rough wooden crate Chris began to make his way back inside the house, he’d been outside long enough for a slight chill settle into his body; it simply wouldn’t do for him to get sick now when their son was soon to come home, Peter would need Chris to be at his best during the somewhat trying adjustment period and Dylan as they’d decided the boy should be called would also need Chris to not lay in bed with a cold.
Walking into the kitchen Chris was reminded that the adjustment period for their son might be a truly trying one since the boy had spent nearly four years in the hands of the Stilinski’s, the child had grown to believe that Claudia and John Stilinski were his parents and would so naturally fight both him and Peter when it came to accepting that it wasn’t the truth, the highchair with the straps was a stark reminder that they had to be extra vigilant when it came to making sure their son didn’t do something foolish like try and run away from them; Chris didn’t like the idea of having to bind their son to the chair or his for the night and naps, but Dylan would be confused and even afraid for a bit and it was up to his daddies to make sure he didn’t do something foolish.
Chris didn’t like the idea of having to strap his son down and hoped Dylan wouldn’t need to be tied down or punished for a lengthy period of time, he didn’t want to hurt or distress his baby boy but at the same time he understood the necessity of it all and being a parent wasn’t always fun after all.
Leaving his boots by the door next to door Chris made his way into the living-room where a fine Christmas tree already stood decorated and ready to greet Dylan, here and there upon the green branches were some of the decorations Allison had made during her short-span of life, she was gone but not forgotten and even though it pained him still to look upon the frozen images of her smiling face Chris could not bare to part with all the framed pictures of his beloved daughter; and although her room would now be that of her little brothers Chris would always love and cherish her even though she’d disobeyed him and ran down the stairs when she knew better, but then again Allison had showed Chris how dangerously frail a human child was and so unlike with her he’d agreed to allow Peter to give their son the bite once he was settled and old for the bite to take, and the bite would take because Peter had promised him it would.
Setting down the crate of wood next to the great stack of firewood he’d brought inside earlier that day Chris glanced over at the old grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room, a slightly frown creasing his brow as he began to realize that Peter was running late and not by minutes but an hour no less from the time Peter had assured him that they’d be home an hour ago with their son. Of course Chris understood that the traffic could always play against them as could the roads themselves, and yet Chris worried. Throwing a log into the dwindling fire Chris had made before leaving the house and focusing on all the work that needed to be done outdoors, he ponders about calling his husband just to make sure everything was alright but then again if Chris was in Peter’s shoes he’d already would’ve already snapped, and so all he can do is wait for Peter to come home or to just send a message or call.
With a heavy sigh Chris turns his back on the fire and the warmth it provides, still Chris pulls away from the warm embrace that has somewhat chased away the chill in his bones and hands.
He starts to remove his jacket as he walks across the living-room floor, the crackling of the fire giving much needed sound to the otherwise silent house, the first day after Peter fetched their son Chris had kept the TV or the kitchen radio on all the time but by day two he no longer could stand seeing or hearing the Sheriff beg for the safe return of what he called his son; of course there was a part of the hunter that pitied the man who failed at keeping stoic when he began to speak about the Chris’ little boy, how could Chris not pity the man when he would weep, `Please. Please bring my son home to. He’s all I’ve got now. Oh God please don’t hurt my son.´
Chris did feel bad for the small town Sheriff that was suddenly famous as the man who found his wife dead and his son missing when returning home from work one morning, but unlike Chris and Peter this tearful man could remarry and have as many little babies as he wanted while there was just one child for Peter and Chris left in this world to have.
While remove his jacket and discarding it next to one of his husbands, Chris wishes that the Sheriff would wise-up and move on soon after all there was no reason for the man to waste his life away chasing a ghost, after all if Chris and Peter could move on after Allison’s death then so could Mr. Stilinski.
`Oh Peter where are you?´ Chris sighs as he leans in towards the old leather jacket of his husband, he breathes in the scent of old leather and Peter, even to his huma411g4ftyn nose the distinctive scent of his husband could never go amiss to his senses; there was something earthy and wild about Peter’s scent, and since the fire there seemed to be an ever linger scent of burned wood to Peter’s scent. Chris presses the old leather against his nose and inhales the familiar scent, this old jacket had been around for the moment Peter set his whole family and pack ablaze, it had been a show of love and devotion like none Chris could’ve ever imagined being worthy of. Chris knew a lot of people would’ve been horrified by such an act but not Chris because he’d known then that Peter would always do whatever it took to ensure their happiness.
Chris had never regretted choosing Peter over his own family, not once, and he never would, after all Peter provided him with everything he needed to be happy while asking so very little from Chris in return.
The gentle knock on the door startles him a little where he stands hands fisting the old jacket up against his face, thinking about the past and present of their life together, but the jacket is quickly forgotten with Chris’ focus shifts to the locked door. The moment the knock was heard Chris’ heart leaped into an unfamiliar beat.
Chris knows there is very little to fear, he knows Peter would never even under torture betray him, and yet he worries a little as he unlocks the door. He fears that outside this door stands men wearing badges and claiming to serve and protect, after all what if Peter and their son had been in a terrible accident? Chris pauses for a second once the last lock had been turned, breathing in slowly and exhaling even slower before opening the door and ready to face either great joy or unimaginable disappointment.
The sight before him brings up a lot of emotions the greatest one pure joy. Seeing his smiling husband standing there with their little boy all wrapped up in a soft looking blanket, set his heart soaring. The sight of his son and husband right there was just a little bit too much for the hunter to take in stride, and so without warning Chris begins to cry tears of tears of joy and reaching out towards the child he’d been yearning for with both his heart and soul.
`Oh my God.´ Chris cries in tearful repeat, and with shaky hands that had never felt as unsteady as they did not go between reaching for the child and gesturing for Peter to hand him over. Chris honestly knew not what to do, or what to say at that moment when he was so overcome with a happiness he’d imagined forever lost with the death of his little girl.
`We’re home.´ Peter says softly before handing the little life into his mates waiting arms, and as soon as Chris feels the weight of the little boy in his arms the waterworks truly start since now it all seems so very real to him. Chris barely reacts to Peter kissing him as he peers down at the beautiful and peacefully sleeping child.
`Oh God, he’s even more perfect than I remembered.´ Chris whispers as he leans down to kiss the soft little cheeks of his little boy.
`I take it you are happy my love.´ Peter laughs softly in his ear before dropping down the backpack Chris had packed for him and their son days ago, Chris can’t even answer his wonderful husband because he’s all chocked-up, `So I think you are happy with my Christmas present this year.´ again Chris can only nod his head because he is happy, he is beyond happy there isn’t even a word to describe how he feels at the moment.