Warnings: Graphic violence, kidnapping, character death, murder, forcing someone to hurt someone else, threats of death, torture, stalking

Pairing: Chris Argent/bobby Finstock

Prompt: Something is watching you

The first time he notices the sensation of someone watching him, he's picking up lacrosse equipment left on the field by careless players (damn it, Greenberg). The hair on the back of his neck stands up and he can practically feel the eyes boring into him. He turns around and sweeps his gaze across the bleachers, but there's no one there. He looks back around at the tree line, but there's no one there either.

He tries to shrug off the feeling, but it persists until he's inside the locker room. He heads for his office, dumping the equipment in front of Greenberg's locker, and sits in his chair, glaring down at his slightly trembling hands. he clenches them into fists and huffs an irritated sigh. There's no one watching him or anything like that. He's just getting paranoid apparently.

He shakes it off and goes back to grading economics papers and grumbling about students and their horrid writing skills. He manages to push the incident out of his mind, finishing up the stack of papers and cheerfully failing several students.

Night has settled over Beacon Hills by the time he gets out to his car. He's humming under his breath slightly when the hair on the back of his neck stands up and his skin prickles with the sensation of being watched again. He looks out over the parking lot, seeing just Harris' car there and no one in sight. He stops humming and pulls out his keys from his pocket, flicking through them to his car key, hitting the unlock button and listening to the chirp.

His breathing speeds up and his nerves are on edge as he walks to his car, refusing to give into the impulse to run. This is stupid. There's no one out there. There's no one watching him. He gets to his car and turns back to the school, looking across the parking lot again for someone out there. There's no one.

When he turns back around, Chris Argent is standing in front of him.

"Christ!" Bobby drops his keys and presses his hand against his chest, feeling his heart racing under his fingertips.

Chris frowns at his reaction. "Something wrong?"

"Yeah, you scaring the hell out of me with your ninja impersonation." Bobby snaps, nerves shot to hell and back, picking up his keys.

Chris looks around the parking lot. "What were you looking for?"

"Nothing. It's stupid." Bobby shakes his head and opens his car door, shoving his bag into the passenger seat.

"Tell me." Chris presses the issue.

"I just felt like someone was watching me. There's no one here. Happened earlier after lacrosse practice, but there was no one there either. Probably just crazy." Bobby mutters, straightening up and turning to face Chris.

"Hmm." Chris hums, still looking out over the empty parking lot.

Bobby glances over his shoulder. "See? No one there."

"Right. Well, my place or yours tonight?" Chris asks, backing Bobby up against the car.

Bobby never would have thought that one drunken night of sex with Chris Argent of all people would lead to this thing they have going on. He doesn't call it fuck buddies because they're not exactly friends and calling it a relationship feels odd and makes his heart feel weird and so he calls it a thing and they don't really talk about it.

"Mine." Bobby answers, tipping his head up slightly as Chris presses his mouth to Bobby's.

The scrape of Chris' stubble against Bobby's smooth skin makes him shiver, fingers curling into Chris' jacket as Chris boxes him in against his car, hands on either side of him. Bobby makes a broken noise in the back of his throat as Chris licks into his mouth, teasing him.

"We should take this to your place." Chris says when he pulls away from Bobby.

"Probably." Bobby agrees, letting go of Chris' jacket as he straightens up and takes a step backwards.

"See you in a few minutes." Chris says with a nod, turning and walking back to his SUV and getting in as Bobby gets in his own car, sitting for a moment and watching as Chris' tail lights head out of the parking lot. He starts his car and follows, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth.

Peter Hale watches him go from the edge of the building, a smirk on his face and a wicked gleam in his eyes. He knows how to destroy Chris Argent and oh, how fun is it going to be.

The next morning, Chris slips out of bed, careful not to wake Bobby yet. He gets dressed silently and then leans over Bobby, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Bobby rouses himself enough mutter some sort of farewell before falling back asleep.

Chris allows a small smile to cross his face before slipping out of the house and heading home. He heads inside, checking on Allison and finding her still asleep as it's the weekend. He smiles at her and slips out quietly, making a pot of coffee. He leans against the counter and debates what he wants for breakfast. Things have been quiet around Beacon Hills since he's come to an uneasy truce with Derek Hale and his werewolves. Too quiet. It makes his skin itch.

He pushes those thoughts away as Allison comes into the kitchen and pours herself and him cups of coffee and settles at the table with some fruit and toast and yogurt. She skims over the newspaper as she eats, handing the sports section to him. It's a quiet morning and he appreciates that.

Allison goes out later on with Lydia and Chris wanders around the house, alone for the first time in a long time. He looks at pictures of his wife and misses her until he manages to pull himself together and he sits at the table for a while, thinking about everything and nothing in particular.

He texts Bobby, but gets no response which isn't too odd because half the time Bobby forgets he even has a cell phone. He thinks about going over there, but when he calls, he gets no answer and he sighs, discarding that idea. Instead he goes into the garage and picks out his favorite gun and a few spare clips and heads out to the shooting range, hoping that some target practice will get rid of the itch under his skin.

Bobby is not having a good morning, thank you very much. He'd woken up later, after Chris had left, and stumbled into his kitchen, intent on getting coffee. He fixes a new pot and waits for it to be done, glaring impatiently at the coffee maker.

Soon it's finished and he's rewarded with a fresh cup of coffee. He skims through the newspaper and then heads into the bathroom for a shower. He dresses, then digs through his bag for the papers that need grading before realizing that he's left his phone and the papers at the school.

He curses, but slips into his shoes and grabs his keys, getting into his car and making his way to the school. The parking lot is empty, save for Harris' car and Bobby wonders if the man ever goes home. He shakes his head and decides that he probably doesn't.

As soon as he gets out of the car, his skin breaks out in goosebumps again and he feels eyes on him, staring him down. His gaze sweeps across the parking lot, but there's no one there. He grumbles to himself and stomps up to the doors and unlocks them, wrenching them open with more force than is strictly necessary and storms to his classroom.

He digs around in his desk for a moment, grumbling about his lack of organizational skills, when he feels it again. Someone is watching him, he's sure. He goes over to the windows and looks out, seeing no one. He closes the blinds anyway and goes back to his desk, finding the stack of papers that need grading. He searches his desk some more for his phone, but he can't find it. He must have left it in his office in the locker room.

He locks his room up and heads for the locker room, running into no one, not even Harris. The hairs on the back of his neck are still standing up though and he still feels like there's someone watching him. He can't shake the sensation, but there's no one around in the school. No one outside either as far as he can tell. He sighs at himself and forces himself to a leisurely pace to his office.

When he gets there, he spots his cell phone on his desk and grabs it, tapping the unlock button. He sees the missed call from Chris and the text from him too. He debates calling him back, but decides to wait until he gets home. He tucks his phone in his pocket and gathers up the papers on his desk and heads back out to his car.

The feeling of being watched only intensifies when he gets outside and he looks around again, but there's no one that he can see. He clenches his teeth and heads for his car, hunting for his keys in his pocket as he goes. Just as he reaches out to unlock his car, something smashes into the back of his head and his world goes dark.

Peter Hale looks down at the crumpled form of Bobby and tilts his head.

"Well, that was easy. Humans." He scoffs.

He bundles the coach into his car and takes off with a screech of tires.

When Bobby wakes up again, he's in a dark room, arms stretched out above him, wrists bound with chains, duct tape over his mouth. His head throbs and pounds in time with his heartbeat and he groans weakly, wondering just what the fuck is going on.

There's no one around, at least nowhere that Bobby can see and that's a small relief. He tries to look around the room he's in, but there's no light in here, save for a narrow beam of sunlight cutting through the gloom from a tiny window. He thinks he's maybe in a basement. He can't really tell.

All he remembers is going back to the school for his phone and those stupid papers and feeling like he was being watched. He remembers going out to his car and then something hitting him and then nothing. He wants to know where the hell he is and who the fuck brought him here and what they want. He can't remember pissing anyone off lately, at least not enough that they would want to kidnap him.

His arms ache and his head throbs and he's pissed and slightly afraid of whoever is here. Not that he'd admit that last one. He sighs and tips his head back to look at his wrists, already bleeding, dripping blood down his arms as they strain with the effort of holding him up.

Clearly today is going to be an amazing day.

Peter waits, watching Chris from afar as he shoots, posture perfect as was drilled into him by his father. He empties one clip and is loading another one when Peter approaches him.

Chris stares him down, no emotion showing on his face. "What do you want?"

"Oh, it's not what I want. It's what you want because I have something of yours." Peter smirks, amused.

"You touch one hair on her head-" Chris starts, anger bleeding through.

Peter cuts him off. "It's not Allison. I have no interest in her."

"Then what?" Chris asks, snapping the clip in place.

"Not what. Who." Peter smirks again, having too much fun with this.

"If it's not Allison, I don't care. Let the other wolves handle it." Chris turns back to the target, taking aim.

"You wouldn't even save that handsome coach you've been sleeping with? Pity, I thought you were better than that." Peter shakes head and turns to leave.

"What did you do to him?" Chris turns around, a glare on his face.

"Oh, nothing yet. But he looks like a fun toy to play with. I wanna know what his screams sound like." Peter confides, leaning into Chris and hissing the words at him.

Chris shoves him back. "Where is he?"

"That's for me to know and you to figure out. You have until sundown to find him and maybe I'll let him live. If not, well, I'm sure he'll taste delicious." Peter licks his lips.

Chris looks ready to shoot him right then and there and so Peter takes his leave, walking out and disappearing before Chris can catch up with him.

Chris swears loudly and gathers up his gun and the last clip before climbing into his SUV and driving back to his place. He's pretty sure he knows where Peter is keeping Bobby, but he wants to be sure.

He calls Allison.

"Hello?" She answers, sounding distracted.

"Allison, have you seen Derek today?" He asks.

"No, just Scott, Lydia, and Stiles. Why?" Allison asks, focusing on him.

"I need to talk to him. Get Scott to call him and have him meet me in the woods. It's not about him, but I need some information." He says.

"Dad, what's going on?" She sounds worried and Chris winces, hating having to lie to his daughter, but he's not going to get her mixed up in this. This is his fault. He has to make this right.

"Nothing, Allison. I just need some information, okay? I'll talk to you later. Have fun with your friends." Chris hangs up before she can ask anymore questions.

He heads out into the woods to the edge of the Hale property and finds Derek waiting on him.

"What do you want?" Derek asks, folding his arms across his chest.

"Where's Peter?" Chris gets straight to the point.

Derek frowns. "Why?"

"Because I need to know. Just tell me." Chris snaps.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him except in passing for the last few days." Derek says with a shrug.

"Damn it." Chris growls, turning away from Derek.

"Why do you need him?" Derek asks, curious.

"Because he took something of mine and I'm getting it back." Chris says, stalking off.

Derek watches him go, a frown on his face. Something's wrong here. He intends to find out what.

Sharp, biting pain slices through his side and Bobby screams as Peter slides the knife along his exposed side. He grins and licks the blood away from the knife, admiring the cut he's made.

"Are you having fun? I know I am." Peter says, tracing the tip of the knife along Bobby's chest.

"Fuck you." Bobby snaps, panting harshly, sweat dripping down his brow.

"Now, now. Be nice. That' s no way to treat someone." Peter tsks and drags the knife down over Bobby's ribs, pressing it in deeper, dragging it slowly, making sure he feels every burning inch of it cutting into his skin.

Bobby screams, a harsh strangled sound, voice hoarse and breaking and Peter is glad he decided to take off the duct tape. He doesn't want all the glorious sounds Bobby is making muffled. They're absolutely delicious.

He pulls the knife back and raises it to his mouth again. The blood lands on his tongue, salty and metallic, heavy and sweet.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Bobby gasps, as soon as the pain fades just enough.

"Oh, how rude. Forgive me. I'm Peter Hale. I'd say pleased to meet you, but I have the feeling the sentiment is not mutual." Peter smirks.

"What do you want with me?" Bobby asks, wincing in pain.

"You're being used as bait for Chris Argent. You're my revenge against him." Peter's smirk turns darker.

"Why do you want revenge against Chris?" Bobby's confused.

"Because he killed my family. Oh, that's right. You don't know. Well, let me tell you. Werewolves are real and your boyfriend is a werewolf hunter. He killed my family in this house. Burned it down. Well, his sister did, but she's dead. I still want revenge." Peter's smirk fades and he glares.

"You are a psycho then. Werewolves and werewolf hunters don't exists." Bobby sneers, still unwilling to show his fear.

Peter stares at him and then changes, letting him see other form for a moment before changing back. "See? We do exist."

Bobby stares at him, shocked and now significantly more terrified.

"Do you think he'll come for you? I don't, but then again, you know him better than I do." Peter asks, walking around Bobby.

Bobby doesn't answer, just glares at the other man, defiant.

"He didn't seem to care. If it wasn't Allison that I had, then he even told me himself that he didn't care. To let others handle it. Maybe I should have taken his daughter. He obviously doesn't care about you." Peter says contemplatively.

Bobby doesn't answer and Peter shrugs, raising the knife again. He pushes the tip of the blade far enough into Bobby's chest that it breaks the skin and then drags it downward until he gets to the bottom of Bobby's rib cage.

Bobby bows his head, arms cramping with the strain of being held up by them, side and chest burning from the cuts that are getting deeper and wonders if he'll survive this. He wonders if Chris is coming, if he wants Chris to come because this guy is clearly a psycho and he has no clue why he wants Chris. He struggles to breathe through the pain, shoving it down, so he can't feel it.

"Don't you know it's rude to ignore people?" Peter asks, slashing the knife once more, this time across Bobby's stomach.

Bobby whimpers. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Well, surely you must have some idea." Peter says, walking around Bobby and examining the smooth skin of his back.

Bobby can't feel his hands anymore. He grunts and shakes his head. "Look, just let me go. I won't even say anything about this."

Peter clicks his tongue and smirks. "I was wondering when you'd start begging me to let you go."

Bobby inhales sharply and there's darkness edging in at the corners of his vision and he wonders if he's going to pass out. The burning is only getting worse and he can feel the hot slickness of his own blood running down his skin. Sweat mixes with it, getting into the open wounds and stinging even more.

"I was rather hoping you'd be more fun than this." Peter says, bringing the knife up and carving a spiral into Bobby's back, between his shoulder blades.

Bobby groans between clenched teeth and the darkness creeps in more and more until it takes over. Peter laughs, licking the blade of the knife again. Foolish humans.

Chris knows where Bobby and Peter are. That's the only place Peter would have taken Bobby for something like this. He knows it's about getting back at him, hurting him, taking away something precious to him. He wonders why he didn't take Allison and is glad they didn't. He supposes Scott has something to do with that reason, but he doesn't have long to ponder it.

He texts Allison, telling her to tell Scott to tell Derek not to get involved with anything tonight at the Hale house because it's between him and Peter and immediately, she's calling him, demanding to know what's going on.

He tells an edited version, that Peter wants to settle things between them for their families and she demands to be there, but he shuts that down and gets promises from everyone not to get involved, werewolf and human alike. He doesn't really trust them though and brings mountain ash with him to spread around the house. It'll keep the werewolves out and they'll keep the humans out.

He grabs his rifle and the wolfsbane bullets, loading them into the gun. He'll be damned if he's letting Peter live after this. He gets into his SUV and drives to the Hale house. He gets out and grabs his gun and the mountain ash and pauses, listening. He doesn't hear anything, but that doesn't mean a thing. He begins to spread the ash around the house and once that's done, he goes inside.

"Peter!" He shouts, breaking the silence of the seemingly empty house. The stairs to the basement creak and Chris turns around calmly and raises his gun, pointing it at Bobby's face.

Chris lowers the gun and Peter steps out from behind Bobby, a gun of his own pressed against Bobby's head. "Hello, Chris. Glad you could make it."

Bobby stares at him, confusion, pain, and anger in his eyes. Chris takes in the gashes across his chest and stomach and ribs and feels sick. This is his fault. He did this just a surely as if he had been holding the knife himself.

"Give me the gun." Peter says, holding out his free hand.

Chris hesitates for a moment.

"The gun or he dies." Peter snaps, pressing the gun harder against Bobby's head. Bobby winces.

Chris sighs and hands over his rifle. Peter grins.

"The real party is downstairs. After you, Chris." Peter smirks, nodding his head towards the basement stairs.

Chris can feel Bobby's eyes on him the whole way down, but he goes downstairs, willing to play along with Peter for now if it keeps Bobby alive.

Once they're all downstairs, Peter handcuffs Bobby back to the chain hanging from what's left of the ceiling, but lets him keep his arms down now. He leans the rifle against the opposite wall, out of reach.

He keeps the gun aimed at Bobby's head, but passes the knife to Chris, still wet with Bobby's blood. "Your turn."

"What?" Chris stares at him.

"Your turn. I've already had my fun with him. Now you can." Peter smiles at him, all charm and good humor now.

Chris takes the knife and stares down at it for a moment before looking up at Bobby. "I can't."

"You can and you will unless you want to see his brain spattered all over that wall." Peter growls, eyes flashing.

Chris closes his eyes for a second before looking up and meeting Bobby's eyes. "I'm sorry."

He presses the blade into Bobby's side, trying to make the cut as shallow as possible, but Peter presses his free hand down over Chris' and forces the blade deeper, slicing through layers of skin, blood coming to the surface instantly and Bobby inhaling sharply, jaw clenched so tightly, it looks like it might break, face pale. His eyes never leave Chris' face though and Chris almost wishes he would look away or close his eyes because he can't take this guilt, the guilt of being forced to hurt someone he cares about.

"More. This is my show and I want to be entertained." Peter steps back, keeping the gun aimed at Bobby's head.

"I'm so sorry." Chris breathes, pressing the knife against Bobby's skin again and again, slicing as deep as he dares, hoping to keep Peter from doing it himself.

Bobby never says a word and doesn't make a sound. He just clenches his teeth and tries to breathe through the pain, aching with Chris' whispered apologies and the cold bite of the blade.

"Maybe I'll have you kill him, Chris. Slowly. Painfully. I'll make him bleed out in your arms, just like your wife did." Peter smirks.

Chris refuses to answer or react, keeping his eyes on Bobby's as Bobby's blood flows over his hands, hot and slick and too much and too red.

"How did that feel, by the way? Your wife in your arms, dying because of you, because you weren't there to save her. That's your fault. Her blood is literally on your hands. So is his. I'm surprised your daughter is still alive. Your sister's death is your fault too. Everyone dies because of you. What a shame." Peter tsks behind him and Chris struggles to ignore him, whispering apologies like a prayer to Bobby as the knife shines red.

"Maybe I'll just kill you instead and keep him. I bet that mouth could be put to some good use." Peter says, laughter in his voice.

He walks up to them, the gun still leveled at Bobby's head, circling them. Chris watches him, waiting for an opportunity.

"I see why you like him, Chris." Peter presses up against Bobby's back, lowering the gun and making Bobby hiss as Peter aggravates the wound there.

Peter nuzzles the side of Bobby's neck, fangs lengthening. "Who knows? I might just kill you and take him for my own. He's certainly pretty enough for it, am I right?"

He opens his mouth wide and lets his fangs brush against Bobby's neck, making him cringe away. Chris uses this to his advantage, reaching around Bobby and shoving the knife into Peter's stomach, jerking the handgun from Peter and shooting him in the knee, knocking him down as he runs for his rifle. Peter curses and begins to change, but he doesn't get the chance to do anything as Chris fires and shoots him in the head with a wolfsbane bullet.

Chris stares down at him and empties the rest of the handgun into his corpse. Bobby flinches with every shot. They're silent as Chris picks the lock on the handcuffs and catches Bobby as he starts to fall, dizzy and weak with the loss of blood.

They don't say anything as Chris helps him up the stairs and out of the house, only to find Derek and the rest of the pack and Allison with him just getting there.

"Dad!" Allison rushes towards them along with Stiles and Lydia as they catch sight of Chris and Bobby. The mountain ash stops the werewolves, but they watch as Allison stares at Bobby and the blood on her father's hands.

"What happened?" Lydia asks, shock on her face as she stares at all the blood.

"I'll tell you everything later, but right now, he needs medical attention." Chris says, more sharply than he intends.

"Scott, call your mom. We can't take him to the hospital." Allison turns to her boyfriend. He nods and turns away, pulling out his phone.

Chris breaks the circle of mountain ash as he crosses it, allowing the werewolves access to the house.

"Peter is dead." Chris informs Derek as he passes him.

Derek looks at Chris and Bobby, opens his mouth to say something, catches sight of the spiral on Bobby's back, and then nods.

Later, after Melissa McCall has stitched up and cleaned every cut Bobby has, and Chris has told the story to them as they piled in Melissa's living room as she did her work on Bobby and everyone knows the story, Chris stares at himself in the bathroom mirror after scrubbing his hands clean of the blood.

He knows that this is his fault. That Peter was right and everyone's deaths rests on him. Victoria, Kate. Almost Bobby now. He breathes in and out and stares at himself in the mirror.

It's best if he just lets Bobby go. He can handle being alone. He deserves to be alone after everything he's caused. Hell, Bobby will probably be glad to get rid of him after this.

He sighs and leaves the bathroom, going up to the guest room and slipping inside quietly. He leans against the door after he closes the door. He watches Bobby sleep, eyes tracing over the stitches, dark against Bobby's pale skin.

He sits on the edge of the bed and lightly trails his fingers over the stitches, careful not to wake Bobby.

He leans down and brushes his lips across Bobby's slightly parted ones. Bobby stirs slightly and squints up at him.

"Chris?" He asks, voice hoarse and rough.

"Shh, go back to sleep." Chris murmurs softly.

Bobby blinks up at him. "Mm, stay."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Chris says, pulling away.

Bobby grabs his wrist weakly. "I don't care what they think."

"I'm not talking about them. I think it's better if we just end whatever this is now before you get hurt because of me again." Chris gently pulls away from Bobby and heads for the door.

"This isn't your fault. If you end this now, the only thing that will change is that you'll be alone again and so will I." Bobby says, surprisingly coherent, despite the pain killer.

"I'm not going to argue with you about this. I can't do this to people I care about anymore." Chris says, trying to be firm.

"I love you." Bobby says, staring up at Chris.

"What?" Chris says, shocked.

"It's okay if you don't love me, but I've loved you for a while now. I never thought it was the right time to say anything because, well, you know, but I just thought you should know that before you leave. Don't let it keep you from leaving though, if that's what you really want. I'll understand. Well, that's a lie, I won't understand and I'll probably not like you for a while, but I still thought-" Bobby babbles before Chris cuts him off with a deep kiss.

"You talk too much sometimes." Chris mutters fondly when they pull apart.

"Yeah, well." Bobby shrugs and smiles.

"You really love me?" Chris asks, reaching out a hand and stroking Bobby's cheek, a rare show of open affection.

"Yeah, I really do. Stay? At least for tonight?" Bobby asks, not even trying to hide his hopefulness.

"Yeah, I'll stay." Chris nods.

Bobby scoots over on the bed and Chris kicks off his shoes and slides out of his jeans before sliding into bed with Bobby, curling around him protectively, careful not to tug on any of the stitches.

Sleep comes easy after that.

In the morning, Melissa pokes her head into the room and isn't surprised to find both Chris and Bobby curled together so tightly that she really can't tell where one ends and the other begins. She smiles, happy for them, and closes the door gently.

When Chris wakes up, he realizes that he doesn't need or even want to move from bed and he knows that he's okay with waking up like this every morning, next to Bobby, warm and content. He's not happy, not yet, but he thinks he could be. Maybe.

It will just take some time. That's all.