Sparks, Flowers and Plaid Shirts (Book Two in the 'Plaid Shirts' series)

The Offer - (Peter POV)

The world comes back into focus as swirling colours make up the solid appearance a road in Beacon Hills, on of the streets near the school. The pack are all standing, or to be more specific hovering, like some sort of mockery of Stiles' earlier floating at the side of the road. Isaac seams to figure out how to move himself the first as he floats to Scott who seams to be freaking out over the fact that his feet are not touching the ground. "Just think about where you want to go and you will float there, Isaac supplies and the majority of the pack start to float towards one another. I think about going to stand beside Derek and suddenly it feels like someone is tugging at my ankle. I try to kick the invisible pull off but almost tip backwards, when I give up on pulling against it, it drags me though the air with a strange swooshing feeling towards Derek.

"Ughh, this is horrible. Why does this have to be the method for traveling through memories", Cora exclaims. "Stop whining Cora and start looking around for Stiles, we need to figure out who's memory link this is with.". That's when myself and the wolves hear the rumbling and the jeep comes into view down the road. "No need Nephew, I think he is coming to us". As the jeep speeds towards us  there is the noise of the gears being shifted too roughly and the familiar frightened thumping of Stiles' heart. There is another swooping feeling and a pulling in the bottom of my stomach then I feel like my floating form is being pulled to the jeep.

As the wind shield comes into view it become apparent that this will be my memory and I wince in recognition of the clothes Stiles and I are wearing. "Ugghhh, I still have coma hair", Lydia gives me a look and I roll my eyes, "What, it is quite obvious we are away to see one of the many terrible things I did while insane. The least I can do is mock myself for my fashion choices". Lydia just nods. "Stiles is wearing what he wore the night that he took me to the dance.... the night you attacked me", she glares at me but I just try and give her the sorry eyes, there is only so much apologising one man can do in his life time.

"But is this is the night that you attacked Lydia, why are we seeing after and not during, surely that would be the memory?", Boyd asked always the intelligent one. I dragged my hand over my face as the strange pulling occurs again and we are dragged into the back seat of the jeep which had been strangely elongated by magic for us to witness a conversation to be had by a past Stiles and I. "Peter... What else did you do or say to Stiles that night?!", Derek growls slightly. All I can do is sigh. "I fucked up so often during that time", Derek just growled at me but gave me a pitting look. The low growl from his throat continued until Stiles huffs in the front seat and my past self begins to speak.

"Don't feel bad", I can feel the pack looking back and forth between my past self and I, "If she lives she will become a werewolf", for some reason in my insanity I must have thought the dramatic pauses between words we frightening or something. "She will be incredibly powerful", Lydia scoff and Jackson pats her thigh encouragingly and I can help but agree with the younger man, if I had known how much power the girl already had due to her intelligence I would not have questioned her power or even suggested she needed more. Stiles voice was laced with sarcasm as he replies to past me, "Yeah, and once a month she will go out of her freeking mind and try and tear me apart. The younger version of the boy looks into the mirror as if checking for any cars that might see it strange that the well known Sheriff's son id in the car with an escaped coma patient.

Past me raises his eye brows and smirks, "Well actually, considering that she is a woman", past ,e gives another dramatic pause, "twice a month". Stiles mouth is hanging open in the direction of past me and when he turns back to the road Lydia leans over and slaps me hard across the cheek. I wince rubbing the probably red cheek, "I deserved that". She huffs, "If I was standing that would have been a kick to the balls", I just nod to her, "fair enough".