Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/2013939.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Rape/Non-Con, Underage
  Category:
      F/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Chris_Argent/Victoria_Argent
  Character:
      Chris_Argent, Victoria_Argent
  Additional Tags:
      Canon-Typical_Violence, Alternate_Universe, semi-related_one_shots,
      Serious_Injuries
  Series:
      Part 2 of Chess_Metaphors_for_(Supernatural)_Living
  Stats:
      Published: 2014-07-24 Chapters: 1/? Words: 1856
****** Off the Board ******
by calibratingentropy
Summary
     A series of one-shot extras and tangents to Passed Pawns. These are
     'what if's to the main story, bits of character study, deleted
     scenes, and other miscellany that demanded to be written. All
     chapters are their own little piece, and attempts to describe the
     content will be in chapter titles. None are canon to the main story
     unless explicitly stated; just little bits of fun musing.
     Can probably be read as stand-alones. Tags will change constantly as
     new pieces get added.
     Stories:
     1. Chris Loves Victoria, or, Hunter Domesticity
Notes
     While working on chapter ten of Passed Pawns, this kept intruding,
     and once finished, I was pleased with it. This should not be taken as
     canon events in the story, but as an exploration of Chris's and
     Victoria's relationship instead.
     There are more 'what if's banging around and wanting to come out, so
     I'll probably post one-shots exploring them eventually.
     All pieces are one of the following:
     A) a 'what if' describing how events in Passed Pawns could have gone
     differently
     B) a moment of character study, showing things narrator!Stiles would
     never get to see
     C) extra, deleted, or otherwise unnecessary scenes to the story
     D) experimenting with other modes of storytelling/POVs or possible
     story elements
     E) a combination of some or all of the above
The words were bitter ash. “Can we just...”
Chris was not ashamed to turn a pleading look on his wife. “Later? Let’s finish
this first. Allison will be awake soon.”
That was enough to get Victoria to nod and lay off the questioning. “We have
time; she didn’t sleep well.”
That was almost enough to make him laugh. “No one in this neighborhood did.
This house is too close to the old Hale property.”
“A strategic advantage.” Victoria turned her back to pull out more dark colored
towels. Just the sight made Chris’s mouth turn up. Allison had complained about
the color, and he might have enjoyed watching her face off with her mother on
the issue too much for his own good. Definitely too much, especially
considering the venomous look his wife had shot him when he’d failed to cover
up his laugh completely, knowing all too well they couldn’t explain the real
reason.
It was hard not to hiss as the towel was put in the place of the awkward and
hurried field dressing that had more than soaked through. It soaked up blood
easily, and a good washing would have any lingering stain invisible to any but
the best trained, or supernatural, eyes. It was soaked through and replaced
with another far too quickly. It might even need to be burned with the shirt.
“These are very deep.” It was subtle, but the purse of her mouth, and the
tugging down of the corners, along with a deepening of the lines around her
eyes, betrayed Victoria’s concern.
He knew she would never, but he had to raise an eyebrow and tease anyway. It
distracted him from the pain. “Are you suggesting the hospital instead of your
very capable hands?”
“She will not find out this way.”
For a second Chris worried she’d taken the joking suggestion seriously, but
then her mouth curved into a smile he knew all too well, and fingertips danced
along the edges of his ribs. “I wouldn’t trust the nurses to keep their hands
to themselves, anyway.”
It was hard not to groan as she tied the towel down with string and tape, so
her hands could be free to make preparations. Fire lit along his arm and
shoulder, along with the heavy wet and numbness he was hoping was only blood
loss. His skin had gone clammy at some point, and Chris felt cold. “I’m
probably going to need blood.”
“You certainly will. The arteries and subclavian vein were missed, but the
cephalic vein was damaged. That I can stitch and cauterize; let’s just hope
there isn’t serious nerve damage.”
Nerve damage would be almost impossible to explain as a simple accident and
even more difficult to hunt with. It almost made Chris seriously suggest the
hospital. If the last victims hadn’t gone to the police and been publicly
treated... But the nurses and staff would be on alert for more mauling damage,
and Chris doubted he could come up with a creative enough excuse to explain
away four deep parallel gouges in his shoulder and arm.
Watching her set out the supplies to sterilize, the needles and thread and an
internal vascular sealant that technically hadn’t passed clinical trials yet,
wasn’t enough to distract. Chris shifted and hissed through his teeth.
Victoria turned, head tilted, and her frown back. “Anesthetic?”
Unwise, even in his own home, especially when pain meant his nerves were
working at least mostly properly. Chris shook his head, but couldn’t help the
wince. “I’m afraid my pain threshold isn’t quite as impressive as yours.
Distract me instead?”
“And what, exactly, should I distract you with?” There was the smile again,
even if it made him want to shiver, paired with the so very sharp knife in her
hands.
“Well, while I was dealing with wrangling our soldiers and hunting down leads
you did get to pick up our daughter from school.” It was a lot for Chris to
hope for, that Allison might be taking this better than the last move, but he
had to hold onto that hope for his daughter’s sake.
“Mm, yes, I did.” Victoria ran a hot flame over the needles she was arranging
until the metal glowed. “She’s made a friend, and they spent most of the
afternoon going through Allison’s clothes with a ferocity I’d fear to see on a
werewolf. At least she’s getting unpacked more quickly than last time.”
The comment made Chris laugh, and it was good to focus on. The pain didn’t
leave, but he felt lighter and more in control. “I suppose we should be glad
that werewolves don’t typically lust for clothing.”
Victoria moved a corner of the towel and began wiping some of the blood away.
Chris put his all into focusing on her face and her voice as she worked.
“They had quite the riveting conversation while doing it,” Victoria didn’t have
even a flicker of remorse in her tone for eavesdropping, “about a certain
lacrosse player that’s caught Allison’s eye and his merits. Apparently he’s
fresh-faced enough to be dubbed a fixer-upper.”
The pain ebbed and spiked, and Victoria laughed lightly. “Lydia, the friend,
had choice comments to make about his status and clothing choices, but then,
she seemed to have similar comments to make about most of the school. They
agreed that Allison should take advantage of the situation and ask the boy out,
then launched a strategic attack on the logic of our curfew, for the purpose of
Allison taking the boy to Lydia’s party this Friday. I’m impressed. If not for
the stakes I might have had to let them take the day.”
That made cold seep into his center. With just the lone feral Alpha and a
single victim, he might have eased the restrictions eventually, or not even
made them at all, but the very public news story about the kids was doing what
he’d feared and luring far more dangerous monsters to town.
Allison could not be allowed out on the full moon. Period. One slip, one word
overheard, and a roaming alpha would have the perfect weapon against them with
a single bite. Chris couldn’t risk his daughter’s death like that; too many
alphas were so good at pretending to be human that even a party wouldn’t be
barrier enough.
“We’ll have to make it up to her once this is over.” The stink of burnt flesh
made his nose wrinkle. It’d cling. “And maybe bacon for breakfast.”
Victoria hummed as she removed another section of towel. “Bacon and french
toast, do you think? Oh! By the way, Allison may be on her way to another
friend. A boy named Stiles who knows a surprising amount about perfumes and may
have a crush on this Lydia’s boyfriend.”
Chris locked eyes on her face as she dug deep to get to the still freely
bleeding vein. Her smile ticked up, and up.
“This Stiles is the Sheriff’s son, and has a drive to know things.”
The pain faded in the rush. “We could use this. Our man on the inside is only
alienating himself and not getting the information we need.”
“I was thinking we might suggest Allison throw a little dinner party for her
new friends instead of moping about the curfew. Lydia won’t be able to come, of
course, but the boys might be swayed. And since you care so much about their
safety--”
“--I would personally drive the boys to and from our daughter’s gathering
myself to make sure they’re safe. Have I told you I love the way you think yet
today?”
“Tell me again when I’m done with this.”
Chris had to bite his lip bloody as she dug the curved needle deep into the
muscle to pull rent flesh together. Crying out risked waking Allison. He
wouldn’t, couldn’t, do this to her.
There was no more talking or distraction. Chris had run out of words, and he
could tell Victoria was concentrating on leaving him as much use of his arm as
was possible, outside a hospital. He was grateful, more grateful than anything,
that his mother had set up the match between them before she’d died. Victoria
might have given up being a Baumhauer, but she gained the title of matriarch
where she’d only been a third daughter before, and the Argents gained a
staunch, and numerous, ally in the never-ending fight.
That Kate, who had developed, or maybe just got bored of hiding, a worrying
tendency to shoot first and ask questions later, was kept out of power was a
bonus. A bonus Chris was also grateful for, and he hoped to whatever god
watched over hunters that Kate wouldn’t spot a paper or an internet article
about this until it was too late for her to come in guns blazing.
Victoria pulled back, and Chris let out a breath, dizzy and shaking. She leaned
against the counter for a moment, bloody from face to waist, then turned
smartly and marched to the locked mini-fridge Allison thought was their liquor
cabinet. The blood packet was pulled out with no need for words and the stick
didn’t hurt at all. She held up the bag so that it would drain into him and
Chris leaned against her.
When her hand came up to cradle the back of his neck, smearing blood even more,
Chris smiled. “You are the most beautiful woman in the world.”
She laughed at him. “Flatterer.”
He got his other arm up to mirror the touch on his neck. “Har--”
She kissed him quiet; he kissed back. They drank each other’s laughter and the
bag was empty before Chris knew it. He felt better, comparatively. He’d
definitely been hurt worse; he just couldn’t remember when right now.
He took the time to admire her, so calm and in control even while he’d lost
blood all over the counter and the floor, as she finished up and dried and
cleaned off enough of him to put bandages over the stitched wounds, and then
tape plastic over that. Another kiss.
“Go shower; you stink like wolf.”
“I’d rather stay here.” It’d give him another moment to figure out if he could
get his legs under him without falling and ripping all the stitches.
She rolled her eyes and shoved a trash bag into his chest. “Allison’s alarm
rings in fifteen. And remember to bag all of those. Shoes too.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He wobbled only a little when he stood, and turned back to watch
her bagging all the evidence. Chris knew she’d sort and reclaim what could be
salvaged later, when Alison was at school. She was quick and efficient, even
stripping out of her own bloody clothes as she cleaned. Chris could not have
done better if he’d tried.
“I love you.”
She stared at him. They didn’t say it often, hardly ever, but today...
Finally, something softened about her expression and her stance and she waved
him off with a little laugh. “Thirteen minutes! Go.”
Chris mustered the strength to tackle the stairs, riding on the unspoken words.
I love you too.
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