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Deucalion first notices him at a pack gathering. The gift, some say curse, had been good to this one. He looked a boy-- but was sipping champagne like he was an old hand at it. Or perhaps he was as young as he seemed but simply cheeky.
Their eyes meet from across the room and all Deucalion can see is blue. Big blue eyes like sapphires set in an ivory face.
The boy smiles and winks at Deucalion, draining the flute.
Someone brushes against Deuc's side and he turns only a moment to mumble a quiet "Pardon me". When he looks up, the boy has vanished into the shadows.
Yes. Cheeky, he decides.
=-=-=
His name is Peter Hale. Deucalion finds this out incidentally when the packs line up for a group photo and the boy stands at Talia's side when the Hales are called up to the steps. Peter slides an arm around Talia in a fraternal gesture and doesn't look Deuc's way at all.
Weeks later, back in New York with his pack, he receives his framed copy of the photo. Deucalion sits back in his easy chair in his apartment, rubbing his chin in thought.
Peter Hale's eyes are turned, unmistakably, towards him.
=-=-=
Catch me if you can.
Deucalion stares at the note scrawled across the cocktail napkin that has suddenly appeared in front of him. The script is distinctly masculine in slant and he wonders at it a moment before looking up.
Framed in the back door of the little dive bar Deuc and his pack had chosen for an evening of frivolity, features lit by the street lamp flickering outside, is Peter Hale.
There is no mistaking him. Nor the signature manner in which he disappeared in the blink of an eye.
Deucalion's up from the table before he can even question the strangeness of this meeting. Before he can take a moment to hesitate, to wonder at the young Hale's motives. The animal takes over the man, eyes flashing red, cutting through the dark as he exits without a word to his pack.
Deuc is an Alpha-- he never walks alone. But now, he chooses to.
It is nothing to pick up Peter's trail, the scent of Burberry and chicory coffee light on air that is somewhat damp even in the crisp of winter. Deuc follows it down alleys that get more narrow and industrial as he stalks through them speedily, all fours when it gets stronger.
The gate is nothing to leap over and Deuc lands in a shipping yard, crates surrounding him. The scent is gone so he must rely on his other senses. He listens intently for the beat of a nervous Beta heart, for the quickening of breath exhausted from the long chase. He looks around-- there will be no hiding for Peter, Deuc's Alpha-enhanced vision cutting through the dark.
Or so he thinks.
The attack does not come from the ground nor from the air.
Deucalion's legs crumple beneath him when a claw slices through tendon viciously, pain shooting up through them, pain when his face crashes into the gravel. He rallies, twists and swings a claw with a ferocious snarl, face ridged and fanged.
It doesn't connect, Peter blocking it with the grate he'd been hiding beneath, Deuc's fingers sliding into the grooves harmlessly. There is nothing harmless in how Peter twists it to break said fingers before casting it aside, pinning Deucalion with his full weight. Peter's knees press to Deuc's shoulders painfully, a clawed hand around the Alpha's throat.
Peter is red-cheeked and his golden stare is victorious and vicious and proud. His chest is working like a bellows and he seems so satisfied in that instant that Deuc can't help but think that he was born to be an Alpha.
Peter's clawed thumb traces Deucalion's bobbing adam's apple slowly, thoughtfully.
"That's you dead." he announces.
"You think you have what it takes?" Deucalion questions in return, "Do you think you can be an Alpha? Then take it from me. Kill me now, if you are so certain."
Peter looks hesitant, eyes darting over Deucalion's face. It is an opening and Deuc takes it, not above being unfair himself as he bites Peter's inner thigh.
The boy howls in pain and jerks away instinctively. Deuc uses his momentum to roll them, wincing only a little as the movement jostles his healing legs. They flop over Peter, useless dead weight, but they will be working soon.
Peter doesn't look away as Deuc roars his victory. He stares down his death without fear, face whiter from blood loss. Deuc's bite will not easily heal and Peter knows it. Knows he cannot break away or run now, clever and fast as he is.
So he will use other means. Whether he knows it or not.
"Not bad." Peter whispers, head back, throat bared. He is beautiful and Deucalion cannot find it in himself to finish this.
He tells himself later, as he lifts Peter up, that it is because he does not want a vendetta to form between his pack and the Hales. He tells himself it has nothing to do with how much he wants to know the boy, how much Peter fascinates him with how he moves in shadow and still looks the part of an angel.
He will tell himself that it is nothing of importance, nothing of consequence when he takes Peter to his home instead of back to the small studio apartment Peter is renting while he goes to school. That it means little when he cleans Peter's wound, first with warm water and then a warmer tongue.
The coppery taste chased by the bitterness of Peter's come washing across his palate does not have significance, nor does the way Deucalion snarls and leaves another bite on Peter's shoulder as he comes, rutting between Peter's opening, welcoming legs.
And there is nothing, nothing of value in the way he does it again and again until Peter is littered with bruises and teeth marks, nothing to note in how they pleasure each other to exhaustion.
Deucalion just barely convinces himself that there is nothing to how he lets Peter's head rest on his chest, the boy swathed in the covers he'd stolen seconds ago. Nothing to how he holds him and kisses dark waves of hair until he too, falls asleep.
=-=-=
Peter is not only cheeky, he is intelligent. A dangerous combination even without the debacle of the night prior.
Luckily for Peter, Deucalion admired intelligence. Their conversation over breakfast (Peter had cooked) turned to another session of sex (slower this time) up against the counter, Peter swathed in Deucalion's robe (it looked better on him).
The shower took forever and by the time they were done they felt peckish enough to venture out. They went for lunch together at a cafe that Deuc frequented. Deuc learned that Peter ate like a bird instead of a wolf and that he scowled prettily when teased about it. Peter learned about Deuc immigrating from England after his pack had been scattered by the European hunters.
Peter was in his last year at Parsons and lamented that he'd be returning to California on a more permanent basis.
"You could stay." Deuc said before he could catch himself.
Peter arched a brow at the older wolf and smiled demurely into his oolong tea.
"A little soon, don't you think? Next thing you know we'll be picking out china patterns."
"That's not what I meant, Peter..."
"It's okay." the boy replies, wise eyes winking at Deucalion. "I know."
After Deucalion pays the bill, they walk out. Deucalion has just slid his arm through his coat when Peter captures his hand. People look at them and Deuc has no chance to pull away without causing a fuss, so he holds Peter's hand back.
And they walk out that way, hand in hand.
Deucalion's eyes are only for the bright bruise that Peter's scarf doesn't hide at all and he squeezes the other wolf's hand tighter as Peter happily points out all the little places in the fashion district that he frequents.
=-=-=
"You need to get your landlord to fix the bloody air conditioner. How do you even live like this?" Deuc complains, Peter's sheets sticking to his skin, soaked through from their fervent activities.
"Stop trying to get me to stay with you." Peter responds muzzily, face planted in his pillow. Deuc curls up to his side, game given away and kisses at Peter's shoulder.
He gets kicked out of the bed onto his rump when Peter grumbles about how he's making him too hot by clinging to him. Deucalion almost gets up to get dressed-- he's an Alpha he doesn't have to take this-- when Peter crawls down onto the floor and straddles him.
"...it's actually cooler down here." he notes and then kisses and sucks at Deucalion's lips like he's dying for it.
=-=-=
It's the end of the summer and Peter is finishing the last of his packing, his trappings scattered over Deucalion's apartment where he has been living for two months after his lease ran out.
Peter holds up a coffee mug of his that Deuc bought him. It is horrifyingly ugly, some strange configuration of acid green and blood orange with taupe stripes. He knows Deuc picked it out on purpose, a joke Peter had made about him being 'utterly color blind' when it came to design. Peter' s drank from it every morning since Deuc bought it and always would wash it instead of simply picking out another mug.
Peter leaves it behind intentionally and takes the one sweater from Deucalion's closet he declared to be 'not entirely hideous'.
=-=-=
Deuc doesn't move the mug from its place of honor by the coffee maker and waits for a call that never comes.
He doesn't know if he should be shocked or hurt when it was supposed to be nothing but fun.
He should probably be relieved.
Probably.
=-=-=
Peter doesn't wear the shirt, just keeps it beneath his pillow, inhaling deeply when he's frustrated from living with his 'perfect' sister. She will never be his Alpha.
That title has already been taken.
=-=-=
They don't meet until a few years later, when the threat of overly bold hunters necessitates another pack gathering. Deucalion is too preoccupied with negotiating with the other Alphas to recall that Peter is still around.
It is only when Talia, wise Talia with her dark knowing eyes, speaks to him, that he remembers.
"Peter asked about you."
=-=-=
Peter is just as he recalled when they finally catch one another. He's quieter then Deuc recalls, stealthier. Stronger too, when Peter lands a rather impressive blow before Deuc wrestles him to the wall.
"Why are you here?" Peter demands to know, impertinent as ever, heat from his face tangible as he raises it to Deucalion's.
"Why do you care?" Deucalion replies, petulantly, edging nearer.
"Why do you think I care?" Peter responds. His heartbeat isn't controlled for once, so startled by the encounter, and Deucalion can hear it thundering in his ears.
"Why do you care if I think you care?" Deucalion whispers like a threat, breath away from Peter's lips.
Their mouths mash together viciously and afterwards they agree that they don't know who moved first and they don't care either.
=-=-=
"Don't do it." Peter says, fingertip ruffling the light smattering of curls surrounding Deuc's navel, tracing every ripple of his abdomen.
"I have to. If there's any chance for peace, I must make the first step towards it." Deuc replied, cradling Peter's head to his and kissing him with affection. "I'm not going alone, pup. I have my pack."
"And Gerard has his hunters." Peter said, eyes ringed gold, burning bright. "You can't trust the Argents."
"They're better than most hunters, Peter. They have a code, they follow it, just as we follow our own." Deucalion explained patiently, knowing Peter would recoil from being talked down to.
Surprisingly, he didn't, just staring at Deucalion with an unreadable expression.
"Don't go." Peter's voice was small. "Please. It's a trap."
"Peter." Deuc says, silenced by a kiss.
"Don't go." Peter repeats against his lips. "Don't." Peter kisses his neck, his shoulder, draping himself over Deuc like a living shield. Deuc feels overwhelmed. Nothing has become something, somehow and he wants to cry from the sound of Peter casting aside his pride and begging him. "Please, Deuc."
Deucalion gives a fierce growl and upends the beautiful Hale boy, kissing him into the mattress, framing his face with his hands. Peter doesn't think him strong enough, Peter doesn't see his vision.
Deuc will convince him, with tongue and teeth and limbs. He will convince Peter that he will be fine and the peace that they struggle for will be won, will begin with him. He will convince him that they can be something instead of nothing, together.
Peter is unconvinced, but he 'aaa's and 'oh's all the same.
It is the last time Deuc sees him-- the last time he sees anything.
=-=-=
"I told you so." he hears Peter sneer with disgust in his voice from the corner of the clinic's small operating area.
Deucalion throws a jar of something in Peter's direction, hearing it miss, crash into the wall.
And then Peter's gone, but Deucalion can swear he tastes the salt of tears in the air.
=-=-=
When Deucalion hears that voice again, it is older and rougher than he knew.
"So what is your endgame?" Peter asks, feet crunching in the leaves.
Deucalion doesn't turn, doesn't need to. Even before he was blind he was more than a match for Peter and his handicap matters little with all the power he's gained.
Taken.
For a moment, he's transported to a cold New York night, claws trailing over his throat. He casts it aside immediately. It meant nothing.
"Wouldn't you like to know? From what I hear, you have your own subterfuge and deceptions to deal with. I wouldn't burden you with mine, Peter." Deucalion said with a slow smirk.
Peter stuffed his hands into his pea coat, sighing in a put-upon way. Obviously he's just come from talking to Derek. Deucalion had smelled the younger Hale and his beta running through the forest, along with Scott McCall.
"Well, I can't help but wonder... thusfar you've captured my niece and tortured her through three full moons now, taken my nephew's beta and turned him feral against his alpha... and to top it off, you're trying to kill Derek as well-- I can't help but wonder if this is a little personal, Deuc." Peter goaded, walking a slow circle around Deucalion.
Deucalion didn't move. All he did was give a twitch of a smirk.
"After all these years, it's still all about you, isn't it, Peter?"
Peter made a soft, scoffing sound, more distant now, obviously retreating.
"What's wrong with that?" he said and was gone.
=-=-=
"Better keep that one on a tight leash." Peter advises, watching from a distance as his niece rushes to Derek's aid, the gaping wound left by Kali shoving a pipe through him knitting together slowly. Derek's lucky he's an alpha, otherwise there would have been no chance.
"Kali does as she's told, unlike some people." Deucalion states, not even sparing a glance Peter's way. It's not like he could see him anyways, unless he shifts, which is unwise now that he's out of Derek's gloomy loft.
He can practically hear Peter's slow smirk unfolding.
"Or you're still as gullible as ever." Peter mused and Deuc feels the urge to punch him. Luckily the other wolf is gone before he does.
=-=-=
Everyone is expecting Peter to betray them, this he knows as the 'schemers are scheming'. The plan is terrible, as are most of Derek's plans, but that's not why he objects.
"You can't beat a pack of Alphas." Scott argues, blandly moralistic as always.
"That's why we're going after Deucalion." his niece says and Peter's face remains carefully blank. "Just him."
And that's what he objects to.
"Cut off the head of a snake and the body dies." Boyd oversimplifies. He's a nice enough kid but not all that bright-- Peter questions Derek's taste once again before speaking--
"Only this isn't a snake. It's a Hydra. And like Scott says, they're all alphas."
"Deucalion's still the leader." Derek responds, giving Peter a sort of searching look. Peter makes sure he sees nothing.
"Well let's hope so." Peter says, although he knows so. Because he knows Deucalion well, even this twisted version of him. Kali is toeing the line as is Ennis. One of them is going to be real dead real soon. "Because you know what happened when Hercules cut off one of the heads of the Hydra?"
"Two more grew back in its place." Scott intones severely and Peter can't resist--
"Someone's been doing their summer reading." he says with a smirk and the knowledge that Scott will do all the rest on his own. The preemptive assault on Deucalion's apartment will not happen.
=-=-=
Peter still feels a dull ache when he watches his nephew plummet eight stories down. Despite all that had happened between them, all that hatred and hurt, Derek was still family.
There is no body when he goes to search. Cora intercepts him there and he is appalled at his own suspicion of his niece for a moment. But it goes away.
And as they search out Derek together, as they watch Kali scream to the heavens of Ennis' death-- as Peter places a firm hand on his niece's shoulder and guides her away with care...
It's almost like they're family again, even for a moment, barriers of mistrust broken down.
Death will do that to people.
=-=-=
Derek lives and Peter suspects that more than alpha healing is at work.
He thinks about going to Deucalion, but doesn't.
Let him deal with it on his own.
=-=-=
It's when Cora gets sick that Peter finally cracks. It's not Deucalion or his pack's fault-- not totally-- but Peter does take it personal this time.
And he fights for someone other than himself for once.
Deucalion watches this, watches Peter throw himself at the twins through a red tinted gaze, through the monitors.
He cannot make out Peter's features, but he remembers those snarling teeth curled in a vicious mouth well.
"There." Kali says, pointing to a camera showing a nearby hallway. Jennifer Blake's form scurries down the hallway. Kali's nails clack along the linoleum hurriedly.
Deucalion knows she is trying to save face, to correct her error.
He'll let her do so and then kill her.
Meanwhile, Peter tries to correct some of his own errors-- for once even uncertain of his own motives.
=-=-=
There is nothing noble in Peter's next move. Or at least, he's fairly certain.
As he watches the power drain from his nephew, he feels relief at seeing the paleness leave Cora's skin. She was always his favorite.
But more than that, this meant the Hale throne was ripe for the taking.
A long time ago, Peter had thought he might be content. Anger and jealousy of his sister had seemed to fade once.
A knowing touch, a gentle smile and a warm, accented voice had been enough.
Not anymore. Everything was going to hell and Peter didn't care.
He'd already burned twice-- what was one more time?
=-=-=
Deucalion watches as all the pieces fall into place, one after another.
One threat will destroy another.
It was a lesson Gerard taught him well.
I told you so.
Deucalion slams the point of his spear into the earth in a fit of pique. Scott sends him a questioning glance, but is fortunately smart enough not to speak.
Peter did know how to pick them.
=-=-=
The eclipse comes and they are both so helplessly human that of course, the thought crosses both their minds--
Is he alright?
They try to dismiss it. It is nothing, all wolves think on that during the eclipse, worry about their own.
It's nothing.
=-=-=
Peter roars his victory to the skies as Jennifer Blake bleeds out beside the nemeton.
"A bit dramatic, don't you think?"
He turns, chest heaving, face blood speckled.
Deucalion stands before him, no walking stick in hand, eyes unblemished.
Peter can't stand it, the pity in his stare. He wipes blood and flecks of his own spittle from his face, breaking eye contact first.
"Maybe..." Peter mused, smirk empty. "So-- aren't you going to tell me I'm a sight for sore eyes?" he asked, stepping towards Deucalion.
Peter's older-- they both are-- but it shows. Compared to the fresh-faced youth Deuc once know, this man is practically a stranger.
Except the eyes. Big blue eyes that hint of madness, but still shine with intelligence and cunning.
Deuc crosses the short distance between them, wary. Peter doesn't stop him, save to turn his head away when Deuc moves in for a kiss.
"...you're too late." Peter stated as Deuc's lips grazed his temple. "There's nothing there."
Deuc smiled wearily against Peter's sweat soaked skin, nose and brow bumping against Peter's hair.
"And yet somehow... we always manage to make something out of nothing." Deucalion said. "We always come out on top."
Peter looks up at that, uncertain, not something he was used to feeling anymore. It gives Deucalion the opportunity to take the kiss he'd sought earlier. Peter doesn't resist.
"And I am nothing if not patient."
"I assume this means I don't have a choice..." Peter said after a breath, body already orbiting towards Deucalion's like it was the most natural thing in the world.
"No." Deuc replied. "But even if you did-- you'd still choose me."
Peter's blue eyes are shadowed with grief and pain beyond compare. But they still light up at the words, just a little.
It didn't matter that the world wouldn't forgive them for what they'd done.
They'd forgiven each other.
It was enough.