Chapter 7
Peter
Arriving back home to a hero's welcome. The witches, wizards, sparks and the other magic infused people who helped are lining the streets. The exhausted but relieved faces, waving and greeting them.
The one person I want in my arms right this second is running straight toward us. Breakneck speeds past me. I’m not crying about that. Tears well up in my eyes. Samuel, my darling boy in my fiance's arms. Stiles lifts him off the ground.
These past few years haven’t been easy. My life hasn't been smooth sailing.
My dear Eleanor, my high school sweetheart and wife burned alive. Her terrifying screams hollow out my ears. On repeat, record playing non-stop for five years. My family burned, screaming alive with her. Melted skin, red raw sore swell delicate skin. Trapped within a cage in my mind for five torturous years.
It was unthinkable to love another person. Women or men. Ring finger bare.
Meeting a rambling young man, a shining light in a dark tunnel. Not forgetting I killed my blood flesh and blood niece. Long tally Beacon Hill residence.
Leaving Beacon Hill’s in my rear mirror. Entering a brand new chapter, the crap show called my life.
My bond with Derek strained, Cora is my supportive cheerleader. Sector 7 is our new home.
In Section 7 hallway an old enemy or ally matters what day it is, standing out like a sore thumb, with a lost lamb expression on his face, Stiles. My light in a dark tunnel is back, now I’m not the one in the dark tunnel.
Eleanor is not my only love anymore. The mischievous, too loyal, scatterbrain is my boyfriend. He was sneaking around in his own flat. Behind my back. Sleeping over at his place. Helping myself to his sock drawer, hard glass buried under socks. Empty alcohol bottles.
This is not a one-night thing; past excuses, piling up, connected to each other. Stiles is an alcoholic. At a loss at what to do. Seeking Cora’s help now a fully fledged therapist.
Years after rehabs, relapses, AA meeting and getting sober. A picnic, 4th July fireworks in the distance. Ring box in my hand and getting down on one knee.
The crap show turns into a new leaf. Little Samuel joins our life. No sleep filled with giggles and love, chasing after tiny legs.
Stiles passed Samuel into my arms.
The table bursts with family around the table. Stiles next to me, Malia who was born when me and Eleanor broke up temporarily and my sister claws mind wiped the information. Derek, Cora, Henry, Loki sitting next to Samuel distracting the toddler playing peek-a-boo. Loki is a regular to family Sunday dinners.
Loki has now been in Haven for six months with no sign of leaving, works with the magic users in Sector 7.
The sun shining above, cloud white and puffy. A beautiful day for a wedding.
The ceremony platform is crisp and modern with a traditional twist. White and pink flowers hang from the wooden white arch. White lace curtaining the platform.
Rows of white bowed chairs line the luscious green grass. The edges of the white carpet aisle lined with white and pink rose bushes.
Family, friends and most of Haven fill the seats. The Avengers sitting together.
Cora, reluctant Malia, walks down the aisle in their rusty pink sweetheart dresses. Malia made it perfectly clear she hates the dress. Would wear it for them. She is not a big fan of public displays. Malia is our bridesmaid.
Cora is my best man, renamed best woman.
Derek standing at the altar as Stiles' best man. That did not thrill Tony. Tony thinks biological brother over trump's Stiles and Derek's iron strong bond, shared heart-grief, joy and agonising pain.
Stunning Stiles in his sharp navy suit, pink square pocket. Henry giving him away, a man who has been there for Stiles in his darkest hours since his army days. Not his dirt-bag dad, biological or not. Arms looped to each other.
Little Samuel toddling down the aisle in a miniature version of their matching suits. Ring box clutched in his hands. Smiling up at them. Handing the rings over to them. Making his way over to Loki, sitting in his lap.
Stiles smiling his heart out.
Four seconds away from marrying again. Stile brought love back to my love, after being trapped in my brain for five years and a rained of revenge.
Their hands in each others. The minister begins the ceremony.
“We are here to celebrate two lives joining into one. The lives of Peter Hale and Mic-zy-slaw.”
Laugher washes over the crowd. The well known Butchering Stiles real name.
“Stiles. Just Stiles.” said Stiles.
The Section 7 employed minister carries on.
“The lives of Peter Hale and Stiles Stilinski.”
Squeezing Stiles hand, “Stiles you are my light in darkness. Love me even though you know what I have done. Stand by me at my lowest. Darling, you're loyal to a fault. Funny, mischievous, we are raising a child together. At your darkest point you outgunned your demons. In richer or poorer in sickness and health, I will be by your side. Cheer on your achievements, wiping your tears.”
Tears roll down Stiles' mole kissed cheeks.
“Peter, meeting you wasn’t love at first sight. No whirlwind, skipping off to Paris. It was memorable. Before loving you, we were opposite sides of the fence. Then ally, friends, and the love whirlwind swept me off my feet. You're an old romantic. Make me smile everyday. Helped me, supported me, when I didn’t even want it. I wouldn’t be alive, healthy and happy if it wasn’t for you. I take you today as my partner, my confidant, my other half and will love you for the rest of my life.”
Misty-eyed welled up.
The minister steps back onto the platform.
“Peter and Stiles; do you take one another as partners, from this day forward, as husband and husband?”
“We do!”
Slipping the ring on Stiles's slender finger. Stiles smiles, pushes the ring on my finger. The Hale pack symbol engraved on the silver traditional rings.
“By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you married. Now kiss the groom.”
The world stops. His soft cupid's bow lips touch mine. The kiss lasts merely seconds, the mind-blowing kiss has to end. My heart wants to stay in this moment, no matter who's watching. Shut the world out.
Cheers and confetti explode around us.
The bright blue sky descends to the moon.
The first dance in Stiles arms is heavenly, sweet melodies, swaying to the beat. A simple one step to the left and back again. Stiles' head in the crook of my neck, whispering delightful streamy tail tonight's endeavours.
Two more lovey-dovey slow dances played, departing from the dance floor. Stiles is still there, dancing to upbeat songs with the younger crowd. Stiles and Malia dance together; in a jokey manner, waving limbs in every direction, definitely not to the beat, dad's dancing.
Striding back to the table, beelining passed the two Avengers snogging behind the ice swan statue. Head leaned forward, avoiding the unpleasant greedy snog. Not coming up for breath.
Drink in hand, sitting next to Derek. Watching Loki swing little Samuel in his arms, dancing on the dance floor. The toddler giggling his head off. Stiles checking on Samuel every few seconds. Malia, Cora and Stiles dancing together.
“That's your daughter, isn’t it? She gets on with Stiles very well. You have a cute little family,” said Steve, apparently coming up for air. Tony wrapped around his waist.
“She is, Malia was friends with Stiles before we got together.”
Derek coughs and mumbles,”more than friends.”
“What. Stiles has been with your daughter.” said Tony. Steve racks his arm, giving him the stink-eye.
“Well, that was long before me and Peter got together. Me and Malia never really got together, we were both in an unpleasant place at the time. This is a wedding, let's party, paint the town red.” Stiles carrying Samuel in his hip.
Cora drags Derek to the dance floor. I follow suit, not really keen on being dragged. We packed the dance floor to bursting. Two gods, assassins, billionaire, war hero, scientist/raging monster, werewolves, werecoyote, witches, pixies. Other creatures in all different shapes and sizes.
Life isn’t perfect. Family isn’t perfect. We make the most of what we have. Make our own family.