Teen Wolf Imagines

Nightmares (P. H)

Every night for the last few days, Peter had woken up screaming.

And every night, he'd take about five minutes before silently stepping out of his room to make himself coffee, taking a seat on the three seater couch and indulging in another book, refusing to go back to sleep.

And every night, (y/n) heard his desperate wails. Every night she tried to gain the courage to comfort him, but she found she could never move from her spot on the bed.

She felt guilty, and tried justifying it with the fact that there were two other werewolves living in the loft. Until she realized that neither Derek nor Isaac really cared about what happened to Peter.

Tonight was no different - he woke up screaming, crying audibly. (y/n) tried to hold back painful tears of her own, not bearing to hear her love in so much pain.

Once she heard footsteps going down the stairs, she bolted for the door, determined to help him this time. She couldnt bear the thought of him being in so much pain again.

Seeing him walk silently in his red plaid pajama pants and a white v-neck that showed off his muscles a little too well, to the kitchen counter, she followed. Stopping only when she was right next to him.

He didn't acknowledge her, instead he just took a cup from the top cupboard, intending on making a cup of coffee. She gently took the cup out of his hands and put the kettle on, getting a box of teabags from the cupboard behind her.

"Go sit down, love." she whispered, trying not to wake the other weres. Peter gave her an irritated look, but before he could open his mouth, she gave him a glare that would send even a nogitsune down the darkest hole.

He growled, but didn't protest.
After a few minutes, (y/n) walked back into the living room, handing him the steaming cup and taking a seat next to him.

"Chamomile tea. For the nightmares," she winked at him, cuddling into the plush cushions of the velvet-colored couch. He didn't say anything, only staring ahead, a haunted look in his eyes, slowly sipping the tea.

After a few moments of silence, she asked him, " Wanna talk about it? "
He gave a subtle yet slow shake of his head, never removing his eyes from the suddenly very interesting desk in front of him.

"mmkay," she said quietly, and repositioned herself so that her head was on his shoulder, legs folded and touching his knees. She kept a delicate hand on his back, lightly drawing random shapes.

"What are you doing?" his voice raw and slightly shaky. "Cuddles," she happily replied. Not wanting to move from this rather comfortable position.

"I don't like cuddling," he attempted, trying to sound cold, but his voice was quiet and shaky. "Well, I do. And since I took the liberty of making you a wonderfully amazing cup of tea, I think that's the least you can do for me," she joked, leaning up to plant a sweet kiss on his cheek.

That was it. His cup fell the floor, tea spilling everywhere, as he grabbed (y/n) and held her tightly against him.

" Hey, hey. It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay, you're so strong Peter. You don't have to this alone. I'm here, Im right here and I'm not leaving you," she breathed, tears rimming her eyes as she spoke the last part. That was a promise she would never break.

And the flood gates opened. Peter's body was racking with his violent sobs. For years he held everything in, he couldn't save his family, he went insane trapped in an endless torturous cycle of punishment, only to be woken once again, to kill another family member for power.

He hurt the pack several times because he was too selfish, too power hungry. And he couldn't bare it.

(y/n) had no idea how long they sat there for, but between comforting Peter and holding back her own sympathetic sobs, she didn't pay much attention to time.

****

After a while, his sobbing stopped. He was now lying across the couch, head in (y/n) 's lap as her delicate fingers gently raked through his golden locks.

She looked down at him, and smiled a soft smile. Her other hand gently caressed his cheek and he didn't even stir.

She felt like a huge load she didn't know she was carrying was finally lifted off her shoulders.

She hated seeing him hurt, seeing him in pain. And she was beyond relieved and thrilled to be the one to help him.

****

As the sun gently made its way through the windows of the loft, a tired Derek tip-toes his way downstairs, yawning and rubbing the night's tiredness away.

When he reached the bottom of the stairs though, he had to pinch himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

A tired, yet peaceful looking (y/n) slept soundlessly, one hand in his uncle's hair, the other resting across her eyes as her head lay against the back of the sofa.

Peter had the softest of smiles on his face and Derek knew it wasn't in any way malicious. For the first time in a long time, he saw his uncle. The one that he knew before the fire.

And Derek smiled to himself. These two will be good for each other. If only they weren't so bloody oblivious.

~~~~