Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“What the hell is that smell?”

Stiles glances over his shoulder before going back to work, muttering “Oh good, Peter’s here.”

“Sorry, I didn’t realize I needed your permission to come to my nephew’s house.  So what are you doing that smells so awful?”

“It’s a spell,” Stiles replies.  “And it doesn’t smell that bad.”

Peter looks over to Derek who is sitting on the kitchen counter, as far away as possible from the table by the living room’s window.  He looks miserable, squinting and holding his hand over his face.

“What does this spell do?” Peter asks him.

“It’s a protection spell,” Derek explains. “Or a repellant spell.  It’s supposed to keep supernatural creatures away.  Stiles thinks he’ll be able to make enough to circle Beacon Hills and keep things out.”

Peter cocks his head and asks, “So we don’t count as supernatural creatures?  Or it’ll lock us in?  How exactly does that work?”

Stiles snips a few leaves off a small plant. “It takes into account the person making it.  I’m pack, so it won’t repel my pack.”

“And what smells like a dead baby’s diaper?” Peter pulls Stiles notes towards him and is rewarded with a slap to his hand.  “And why exactly are you spending your winter break here and not at your house or at least at Deaton’s?”

“If it’s any of your business, Deaton is under the illusion that he has a veterinary practice and says I can’t do this until after hours.  And clearly can’t do it at my house because my Dad and this stuff smells.  Although I do worry that you know what a dead baby’s diaper smells like.”

“Maybe just a used baby diaper. Whatever it is, it is not pleasant.  Maybe your inferior human nose can stand it...” Peter says with a shrug and smirk.  “So you’re here by default?”

“Derek approved it and oh yeah, Peter – he’s the alpha, remember?” Stiles smiles sweetly back at Peter and throws a wink over his shoulder to Derek.

“Honestly, I didn’t know it was going to smell this bad or I might not have okayed it,” Derek says.  He’s still squinting, but at least he’s no longer covering his face.  “Stiles wanted room and plenty of light, so this seemed like a good idea at the time.”  Derek’s latest apartment has a large living room with a wall of windows leading out to a small patio, and has become a favorite pack hang-out.

“Yup, lots of light here and since this stuff takes a while to make, it’s good to have room to leave it to sit.” Stiles yawns and stretches, ignoring Peter’s not-subtle glance at his exposed stomach.  “After I get the potion made, I need to let it dry to a powder.  Then grind the powder up and it looks like that stuff right there,” he says and points to a small bowl full of black powder.  “And with the right spell, it should make a good repellant.  We’re gonna do a test run and then when it works, I’ll make a ton of it and we’ll circle the town.”

“Sounds both ambitious and time-consuming.  And who do you test it on?”

“That troll we found last month.  Assuming he’s willing, which I think he will be.  He was totally unimpressed by Stiles, so would probably be willing to try to prove him wrong,” Derek says, smirking.

“So what’s in this mixture?” Peter picks up a small bowl and looks at it skeptically.

“Oh lots of stuff.  Sage of course.  Wormwood.”  He starts to grind the leaves with a small mortar and pestle.  “Five drops of sinister sauce.  It’s both scientific and mysterious. Kinda like me.”

 “Very cute, dear, but…” Peter starts what would probably be a very snarky reply when the door flies open.

“What are you doing in here? The hallway smells like dead bodies!” Erica yells, as she pulls Boyd into the room.

Stiles feel the breeze come from the hallway and before anyone can answer her, there’s a loud thump as Peter falls to the floor.

Chapter Text

“Why isn’t he waking up, Stiles?”

“Well, I don’t know, Derek, I don’t know anyone who inhaled the damn stuff before!”  They’ve pulled Peter out on the patio and Stiles took off Peter’s shirt to get the ash away from his face.  Derek comes back with a pot of water and some towels.  Stiles starts to wash the powder from his face, but Derek grabs the pot and pours it on him.   Peter still doesn’t move.

“Dammit, Derek, it probably won’t help to drown him!” Stiles yells and takes a wet towel, cleaning the last of the wet ash from around Peter’s nose and mouth.

“I called Scott, he’s calling Deaton.  Maybe he can do something,” Boyd says, pocketing his phone. 

“Okay, let’s get him over there.  He’s still breathing,” Stiles says, putting his head on Peter’s chest.  “He’s got a heartbeat and everything, that’s good.”

“Yeah, we can all hear that, Stiles.  It’s just he isn’t waking up.” Derek picks Peter up off the floor, throws him over his shoulder and carries him towards the door.  “We’ll ride with you, Stiles. Boyd and Erica, meet us there. He’ll need everyone in the pack to recover from whatever Stiles did to him.”

The car ride is not peaceful.

Soon they’re all crowded into Deaton’s back room, staring at Peter.  He’s half awake, slouched in an office chair, eyes not quite focused.

“Peter, come on back, say something,” Stiles begs, waving his hand in front of Peter’s face. 

“Sweetie, I’m fine, stop fussing and sit down, you’re making me dizzy,” Peter replies, ruffling Stiles’ hair.

“Sweetie?” Isaac whispers to Scott, who wrinkles his nose at the endearment.

“Drink this,” Derek says, shoving a glass into Peter’s hand. “It’s water.”

“Thank you, I think I’m okay. Let’s go home,” Peter says, looking at Stiles.

“Umm, not sure where you think home is, big guy, but your home is certainly not with me.”

Peter raises an eyebrow and rubs Stiles’ arm slowly.  “Okay, no, it doesn’t seem we live together, it just seems like you’re always around.  Aren’t you?”

Boyd and Erica both snicker and she says, “Yeah he’s around a lot, Peter.  We all like him, he’s a good little human.”

“I’m glad to hear Peter’s awake.” Deaton comes in and looks at Stiles who is standing stiffly next to Peter, with Peter’s arm, wrapped around his waist. “How are you, Peter?  You look like you’re recovering.”

“I’m fine.  I’m not sure why we’re here.  We just want to go home – or wherever we go.”  He looks questioning at Stiles before taking his free hand and gently kissing his knuckles.

“Um, Peter?” Stiles whispers.

“Peter, you know that Stiles isn’t your mate, right?” Deaton asks curiously. 

He studies Stiles intently before responding.  “He’s not my mate, no.  But he’s something.  Obviously, he’s mine.” Peter shrugs and smiles and goes back to nuzzling Stiles’ hand.

“Well, can I borrow him for a minute over here?  Just to talk,” Deaton assures him.

Peter unwraps his arm and lets Stiles loose, trailing his hand down the younger man’s back. 

“This is interesting.  I’m pulling together a few books that have potions and spells.  You can take those and see what you can find.  Mark anything that you think may be relevant.  I’ll look through the book you used for the potion and see if I can see anything that would have created the reaction you got.  I’m assuming this isn’t what you intended?”

Stiles runs his fingers through his hair and looks over his shoulder to Peter, who is sitting and smiling at him, hand now on his chest.  It’s kind of creepy.  “Yeah, good guess.  That’s it?  That’s your great help? I know I followed it exactly, Deaton, it’s not like I was improvising.”

“I’m sure, Stiles.  And we’ll figure it out.  Actually, Peter might be able to help with the research as well; you may as well use him.  And I think it’s a good idea if you stay close to him, he’s obviously bonded with you and I’m not sure what would happen if you got too far away.  It doesn’t seem like something we want to test just now.” Deaton gives what might be meant to be a reassuring smile.  “Give me a minute and I’ll get the books.”

“Come back, Stiles, please?” Peter smiles and Stiles slowly comes back to stand next to him, ignoring the others’ snickers. “You seem uncomfortable,” Peter says and he actually looks concerned.  “Is there something I can do?”

“Yeah, actually, you’re going to help me look through some of Deaton’s books and we’ll see if we can find this spell or something like it or something to reverse it, okay?”

“I can do that, if that’s what you want,” Peter replies thoughtfully. “I really don’t feel like I’m under any kind of magic spell though…well, other than just you.”

“Trust me or trust everyone else here.  We’re almost friends, maybe, and we’re certainly not a couple,” Stiles says, keeping an eye on Peter’s hand, which is back to stroking his forearm.

“You can stay at the loft,” Derek says, and it’s not really a request or suggestion, more of an order.  “Isaac, maybe you can stay with Scott?”

Peter looks at Isaac, sitting quietly next to Scott.  “They’re a couple, aren’t they?  They smell like it.”

“Alright, we’re outta here,” Scott says, jumping up.  He nods to Stiles, “Keep me posted and, um… be careful, okay?”

“Sure, Scott.” He answers, trying and failing at not grinning. He’s thought there was something going on with Scott and Isaac, but since asking about it makes Scott uncomfortable, he’s kept quiet.  Of course Peter has no such qualms.  “So is your house cleaned up, Derek?   Probably not safe to bring Peter back and you shouldn’t be there either if it’s going to make you fall madly in love with me.”

“It’ll be fine, Stiles.  Alison and Lydia are cleaning it up and I think Lydia is already trying to find out what went wrong.  There’s very little chance that I’ll join your special fan club.” Derek steps forward and moves Stiles to the side so he can grab the stack of books that Deaton left on the counter, earning a growl from Peter. 

“No!  No growling at the alpha!” Stiles tells him, and taps his nose, making Peter go cross-eyed.  “Come on, let’s get out of here, we have some research to work on.”

Chapter Text

Lydia greets them back at the loft, studying Stiles to make sure he’s okay and glaring at Peter, as though he somehow planned this to inconvenience her.

“Thanks for cleaning up, Lydia,” Stiles says, looking around the loft. “And thanks for not just dumping everything out; I still think there’s got to be something helpful there.”

“Of course,” Lydia replies, looking at him critically. “We need to keep the original substance so we can determine if there’s something in it that will undo this.” Peter gets another glare, which he ignores, before she says, “So do you feel attached to him? Or is it just one direction only?”

“Ummm… I’m worried about him of course, because we’re all pack, but I’m not under a spell. I want it undone and as soon as possible.”

“We all do, it’s creepy,” Derek declares. “First thing, Peter, go take a shower and be sure everything’s off of you. I’ll find some clothes for you; we’ll toss what you’re wearing.” He looks around the room and focuses on Stiles. “Since Isaac is with Scott for a few nights, you and Peter can take his room.”

Stiles jerks his head to Derek, mouth dropping open. “Excuse me? We’re sharing a room for some reason? I know he’s got touchy-feely issues, but why do I need to be his bunkmate?”

“Well let’s see, Stiles.  Because you’re supposed to be working on reversing the spell. And there’s only two bedrooms. And you’re sure as hell not sleeping on my couch. And because I said so. That work for you?” Derek doesn’t wait for an answer, going into his room, slamming the door. If Lydia blames Peter, Derek certainly blames Stiles. For everything.

Peter stops by Stiles on his way to the bathroom, rubs his arm and whispers to him, “Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the floor. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, that’ll make everything peachy,” Stiles replies, glaring at his back. “Lydia, can you help look at the books as well? Deaton was his usual helpful self, but at least he gave me a stack of books. Maybe with you and me and Peter looking, we can figure out what went wrong. And then all we need to do is figure out how to undo it.” He looks at the stack of books on the table and shrugs. “Or, maybe I broke Peter.”

“Don’t say it like that, Stiles,” she says, looking at the books. “So far, at least, he’s quiet. That’s an improvement.”

They’re interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat behind them and turning around, of course it’s Peter. He’s fresh out of the shower, towel around his waist, and hair combed back and dripping slightly. “As I said, I’ll do whatever Stiles asks of me. Anything. I think though, that maybe I should get the clothes Derek promised first.”

“Yeah, that’s…that’s a really good idea,” Stiles answers, biting his lip and pointedly not watching Peter as he walks toward Derek’s room.

“Hey, Stiles, I’m thinking maybe this won’t be so bad for you after all?” Erica says, smirking.

Stiles shakes his head, and studies the floor, “Well, first no, because it’s Peter and ew, it’s Peter. Plus, he’s under a spell and that’s like…like he’s roofied or something, so even if I were interested – which I’m not – it wouldn’t be right. Right?”

“That’s right, Stiles,” Lydia confirms. “Of course, you’re probably treating him better than he’d treat you, but it’s still the right thing to do. Not that you’re interested in him or anything,” she says, smiling.

Peter’s behind Stiles before he’s able to hear him, obviously the spell hasn’t changed his ability to be sneaky. “I’m yours,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear, causing the boy to jump. “What do you need me to do?”

“I need you to not sneak up on me, for one thing.” Stiles pushes him onto the sofa and hands him his laptop along with a couple of sheets of paper. “Okay, this is the spell I was working on. Try to find anything in your stuff that sounds like the same thing or hopefully something that’ll undo it.”

Peter studies the paper, a photocopy from a book with Stiles’ handwritten notes in the margin. “What language was this in originally, do you know?”

“It’s in English,” Stiles answers. “The book I got it from was in English and I followed it exactly.”

“Yes, I can see that. I’m just wondering because sometimes it’s helpful to know where it originated,” Peter replies gently, with no hint of snark. While his laptop is starting, he reads through the spell again. “Here, for example. Cat’s blood tends to be French. If it were goat’s blood, I’d think Spain. You got a donation from the vet clinic, I’m guessing?”

“Yeah, there was a patient who needed a blood test before his teeth cleaning, so he donated a little to the cause. Glad I didn’t need goat’s blood.”

“There’s ways, if you need it,” Peter says. “Let me know what you need. In the meantime, I’ll see what I find here.”

“Helpful and forthcoming? So why can’t we just keep this version?” Boyd asks, with Erica nodding next to him.

“He’s not Peter,” Stiles says, and sits at the table surrounded by books.

“Stiles. Stiles, wake up. Stiles!” Boyd whispers, shaking his shoulder.

“I’m awake, I’m awake!” Stiles cries, jerking awake in his chair. “Time ‘zit?”

“About two. You should go to bed. Lydia went home an hour ago and Derek crashed just after that.” He gestures to the couch, where Peter’s sleeping with a blanket tucked around him, laptop and several books on the table in front of him. “You can have Isaac’s room to yourself since your boyfriend’s out.

“Fuck that, I’m going home,” Stiles says, standing and stretching, digging in his pocket for his keys.

“Hey, you’re supposed to stay here,” Boyd answers, moving to stand in front of him.

Stiles moves around Boyd and heads for the door. “All I wanted from my break was to hang out with you guys and sleep in my own room in my own comfy bed. I’ll be back first in the morning. I might even bring doughnuts.”

Everyone in the pack knows the fastest way to get around town. The quickest way from Derek’s house to Deaton’s office or from the high school to the Sheriff’s office. Stiles takes the back roads to his house, knowing this is not only the fastest route, but at this hour of the night (or actually the morning) he can go about ten miles over the speed limit without being stopped.

He’s yawning as he heads into his neighborhood, thinking only about his bed and how they can work on reversing the spell tomorrow when his cell phone rings with Derek’s ringtone.

“What now?” he snaps, answering with loud yawn.

“Get your ass back here,” Derek orders. “Peter’s stopped breathing.”

Chapter Text

Everyone can hear Stiles running up the stair as he stumbles into Derek’s apartment in record time. “What happened, where is he?” he pants as he throws open the door.

“I’m here, I’m fine.  Sorry to have alarmed you,” Peter answers quietly from the couch.  He’s pale and quiet and Stiles notes that his lips still have a slightly blue tinge.

“What the fuck happened?” he asks, sitting next to Peter studying him carefully, reaching over to take his pulse at his wrist.  Peter sighs and shuts his eyes, leaning back into the couch cushions.

“I’ll tell you what happened,” Derek answers, pacing in front of them. He’s in a t-shirt and boxer shorts, hair messed from sleep. “I told you to stay here and you had to run off because you just know everything. And then I hear Peter gasping and come out here and he’s on the floor clutching his throat. Because you fucked around with your spell and then couldn’t follow orders to stay here.”

“Hey, buddy,” Stiles says, jumping up and poking Derek in the chest, “I’m not obligated to follow your orders and no one knew that would happen if I left.”

Derek flashes his red eyes at Stiles, which doesn’t affect him, but does make Boyd and Erica back away, heads bowed. “If you’re in my pack, then you are obligated to follow my orders without question and you…”

“Derek, Derek, please…” Peter whispers, putting a gentle hand on the alpha’s leg in front of him.  “Really, it was my fault.  I didn’t think that anything would happen and I fell asleep on the couch without reminding Stiles that he should stay.  And this is the first time he’s created this potion and no one knew what would happen.  It’s an understandable mistake.”

Everyone stops and looks at Peter, who at least looks like his normal self, fully recovered from his trauma. 

“Okay, let’s try to figure out what happened.  Or try to find the kill-zone, sort to speak,” Stiles suggests, with an apologetic shrug, sitting back on the couch next to Peter.

“It all happened really fast,” Boyd answers quietly. “You left and I put the dishes in the kitchen. I was getting ready to go to bed and I heard Peter making noises like he was choking. I went over and Derek came out of his room and Peter started turning blue.” He stops and looks over at Peter, who smiles encouragingly. “Then Derek called you,” he finishes with a shrug.

Derek continues the story, slumped in a chair at the dining room table. “Peter had stopped breathing when I had you on the phone.  A couple minutes after that, he started coming around.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, nodding and studying his phone. “I was almost to the park by my house and then sped back here; I think I broke a land-speed record. It’s hard to tell if it’s time or distance, but maybe we can guess about five miles maximum?”

“That seems likely,” Peter says. “Remember at the time these potions were created, they’d be based on distance, as it’s more reliable.  People on horses or walking, not speeding in a car.”

“I’m not sure how anxious we should be to test that theory out.”  Derek yawns and scratches his ass, walking back to him bedroom, done with the drama. “I’m going to bed, Stiles stay here. No one die, that’s an order.”

“I won’t if you won’t,” Stiles tells Peter.  “Come on, might as well use the bedroom while we can. You must be exhausted.”

“I could sleep. You take the bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

Stiles nods and gestures towards what’s normally Isaac’s room. “Sure, we’ll switch off tomorrow night, if we don’t get this figured out tomorrow.”

The next morning, Stiles wakes up smelling toast and bacon. And coffee. It’s the coffee that pulls him from the warm bed into the kitchen.  Boyd and Erica are already at the table, shoveling in cheese and bacon sandwiches as fast as Peter can resupply them with bacon.  Because Peter’s making breakfast.

“Good morning, Stiles,” he calls, way too happily for the early hour. “We’re out of eggs, but there’s plenty of everything else. We’ll make a list of things we need and do some shopping later.”  Peter puts a plate and cup of coffee in front of him at the table and the first sip tells Stiles that Peter’s been paying attention.  Endearing, but still creepy.

“So the plan for today is trying to figure out what went wrong on the potion and try to figure out how to reverse it,” Stiles says after he finishes his first cup of coffee and his pile of bacon. “Is Lydia coming back over?”

“Yeah, she said she’d be here after breakfast,” Erica answers, putting her and Boyd’s dishes in the sink.

“Allison is coming over as well; she has some things from her father’s records. Perhaps they’ll help,” Peter says, as he starts cleaning up the kitchen.

Boyd gets up and gestures for Erica to follow him out of the loft. “Still think we should keep this version.”

When everyone’s over they set up a plan to look through the books, comparing them to Allison’s texts on potions and Peter’s online encyclopedia. They’re spread out over the dining room table and the first thing they determine is that this is going to be a very long, very tedious project.

Stiles sighs and slams a book shut, raising a bit of dust. “Gentle,” Lydia admonishes, raising an eyebrow. “Some of these are hundreds of years old.”

“Great, I know that,” Stiles gripes. “And none of them have their potions in the same order or called the same thing.  They don’t even call the ingredients the same things!”

“Which is why I asked about the origin of the potion, remember?” Peter says quietly. “Since we think it’s French in origin, we look for ingredients in the other potions and translate them into French. Which Ms. Argent can probably assist with as well.”

“I’ll try,” she says, brows drawn together as she flips back and forth between three books. “Unfortunately, not all of this was exactly in my vocabulary lessons.”

It’s slow going, but they’ve found ingredients in common that allows them to eliminate certain potions, since that seems to be the way to make this work.  See what can absolutely be eliminated, mark ones that are possible and then they’ll narrow those down.  Peter and Stiles are skimmers, Lydia studies every word and Allison is someplace in the middle.  And they’re still hoping that Deaton will come up with something that reverses the spell sooner than their potion might.

Derek has little patience and so far is a complete waste on the project. Man of action, he suggests he’ll go to the grocery store with Peter’s prepared list and will fetch dinner. Peter pulls him aside for a whispered conversation, shoving a note in his hand. This results in much eye-rolling, but with a pained sigh, Derek grabs his leather coat and leaves.

“Well, crap,” Stiles says, checking his phone. “Text from Deaton confirming that he reviewed the book I used and I did the spell right.  I already knew that.”

Peter just nods. “He needed to confirm that himself.  He’s the pack’s emissary and he’s training you. You created a potion that had adverse affects, or at least that’s the perception,” he smiles and squeezes Stiles’ shoulder reassuringly.  “So ultimately, he’s responsible for what happened.  Of course he wants to reassure himself.”

“Great, still doesn’t help,” Stiles moans, putting his head down on the table.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get this fixed,” Allison says, patting his back, while still looking at her book. “We’re starting to understand the set up of all these books and how they’re organized. And Deaton can now concentrate on the fix since he knows that it’s a complete reversal of what you did.”

“We knew that,” Stiles says sullenly.

“Actually we didn’t,” Peter answers calmly, rubbing circles on Stiles’ back. “We suspected that’s what we needed, but there was the possibility that we needed a completely different potion, not just a reversal.  Chin up, love, Deaton is actually a very good emissary.”

Stiles snorts and Lydia raises an eyebrow but stays silent.

Peter cocks his head and gives Stiles an appraising look. “You don’t think so? Did he do something? Did he touch you inappropriately?  Do I need to talk with him?” He smiles and shows his fangs.

“No, no, not at all,” Stiles reassures him. “He’s just never been particularly helpful. He’s not inappropriate at all. Put the fangs away.”

“Peter, how much do you remember before you woke up in Deaton’s office?” Lydia asks.  “You remember all of us and you remember Deaton.”

“I think I remember the past,” he says thoughtfully, looking at Stiles.

“Do you remember the fire? And coming out of your coma afterwards?”

Peter looks at her thoughtfully and Stiles can see the wheels turning in his head before his eyes go wide and he visibly pales. He looks around the table, panic growing in his eyes, then shoves back his chair and bolts from the room, running into the bedroom they’ve been sharing.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles says, going after him. When he finds Peter, he’s shaking, crouched in the corner of the bedroom, head in his hands.  “Peter?” Stiles asks gently, kneeling next to him.

“I remember it, I remember it all.  What I did,” Peter wails, unmindful of the tears on his cheeks. “Oh, god, Laura!”

“It’s okay,” Stiles croons, pulling him in and petting his shoulder. “It was a long time ago and you were…you were insane with grief and anger.  Everyone’s over it and it’s okay.”

“Derek? Derek must hate me; I killed his sister, his alpha. He must want me dead,” Peter whimpers into Stiles’ shoulder.

“Well he did for a while and actually, not sure if you remember it, but we did kind of kill you.  And then you came back and you weren’t a homicidal maniac any more, just a dick.  And Derek’s forgiven you because you’re one of his only family members left,” Stiles tells him quickly, trying to find a tissue or shirt or something to wipe Peter’s face.

“Derek’s back,” Peter says, looking towards the door at something he can hear that Stiles can’t.  “I should talk to him, apologize for what I did.”

“No, let’s not do that, okay?” Stiles says quickly, as Peter starts to move towards the bedroom door.  He steers Peter so he’s sitting on the bed. “I know it’s hard to understand, but Derek’s in a good place right now.  He’s happy with all of us at college, and he’s okay with you, he really is. Let’s not bring up old stuff that’ll only hurt him, okay?”

Derek throws open the door and looks at them both sitting on the bed. “What happened?  I could hear Peter’s heart racing, is he okay?”

Stiles jumps in before Peter can say anything. “Yeah, we’re good, Derek.  Peter’s just remembering some old stuff.  We’re actually thinking that maybe he can remember everything old right up to our real relationship prior to the potion and maybe it’ll bring him back to where he should be.”  He’s sure his heart is pounding, but hopefully Derek’ll just think it’s because of worry about the potion and Peter’s general condition.

“Go have some pizza,” Derek says dismissively to Stiles and watches as he slips past him, looking over his shoulder to where Peter’s sitting on the bed. “You okay?” Stiles hears Derek ask him.

“I’m fine, Derek, thank you for asking. This has just been – a little overwhelming, I guess,” Peter says. “Being told that what I’m thinking and feeling isn’t real is certainly strange.”

Derek nods and cups his hand around Peter’s neck leading him back into the living room. “I’m sure, but we’ll get everything worked out. Go eat.”

Peter shuts his eyes and leans into Derek’s hand for a second before he joins the others.

After everyone is stuffed with salad, pizza, and garlic bread, they sprawl out on the furniture discussing what to do next about The Peter Problem, which Stiles insists be capitalized.

“Well, Allison said that you made some progress,” Scott says, smiling at her. Of course, he and Isaac showed up in time for dinner.

“I think so, we at least got some of the ingredients translated, enough that we’ll recognize the potion when we see it in another language,” Lydia answers.

“The problem,” Stiles says, “is that the books aren’t at all in the same order.  So in one there’s love potions at the front and the next one has them in the back and then there’s ones where they’re spread throughout the book…”

“Some of the books are organized by ingredients or when the potion was created,” Peter explains further.

“And some seem to have no order at all.  So we’re all paging through trying to find something that seems familiar,” Allison finishes.

“Why can’t you just find a good ‘I hate your guts’ spell?” Isaac asks.  He’s sitting on the floor next to Allison eating the last bits of sausage from her pizza.

“We don’t want to change him further, we just want to change him back,” Derek states. “He didn’t hate Stiles before; we just need him back to general snarkiness.”

“I don’t know, I still like this guy,” Boyd says, as he sits next to Erica and hands Stiles a gold-foil covered box. “Here, your boyfriend got you these, you should open them, it’s only polite.”

“Wow, thanks, you shouldn’t have.  Really,” Stiles says to Peter, who looks calm and completely recovered from his earlier mini-breakdown. Stiles opens the box of chocolates and all the wolves’ noses twitch as the smell fills the room. “Dark chocolates are my favorites, thanks.”

Peter nods and gives Stiles knee a gentle squeeze. “I know. I do remember that part.  Nuts and chews, right?”

“Yeah, perfect.” Stiles picks out two and hands the box to Peter.  “Guess I should share, at least with you.”

“I can get your more,” Peter says, smiling gently, looking into Stiles’ eyes until he has to look away, blushing slightly. “Whatever you want.”

“Pass the box, would you?” Erica demands, making grabby hands. “We’ll leave you a couple.”

The box gets passed around, and everyone helps themselves, groaning in delight. 

“You know what else Stiles likes?” Boyd asks Peter, as he chews his chocolate. “Miles Davis CDs. He wants the Fillmore concert from 1970.”

Stiles leans forward and exclaims, “I do not! Geez, Boyd, why don’t…”

“He also likes the Mac 2014 nail polish collection,” Erica adds, shooting Boyd a look. “He’s been raving about it and hoping it would be a gift from his boyfriend.”

Scott takes another piece of chocolate and says, “He wants the Arkham Origins game, too.”

“Oh, yeah, he totally does,” Isaac nods, “he won’t stop talking about it.”

“You’re opportunistic,” Lydia tells the group. “And evil. And I’m going home, I’ll be back in the morning. Thankfully, I don’t have any papers due when I get back, so I’ll be here as much as I can.”  She and Allison hug, then Lydia waves goodbye to everyone else and leaves in a flourish of hair and perfume.

Scott gathers the plates and carries them into the kitchen and Stiles follows with an armful of cups and silverware. “I guess that’s our clue to go, too,” Scott says, yawning and stretching. “You guys are still sharing Isaac’s room, right?”

“Yeah, we are,” Stiles answers.  He grabs a napkin and quickly scrawls, “I guess Isaac’s now sharing your room on a regular basis?”  

Scott blushes up to his hairline and grabs Stiles’ pen and writes “Yeah.  I meant to tell you, but stuff.”

“When this is done, we’ll talk away from ears,” Stiles writes back. Then he grabs his friend and hugs him tight, relaxing into the hug back.

“And I have to tell you about Allison, too,” Scott whispers into Stiles’ ear.

“You are my hero,” Stiles tells him quietly, grinning.

“Your night for the bed and I’ll take the floor,” Stiles announces as he and Peter go into their room.

“Don’t be silly, Stiles, I’ll take the floor,” Peter says, grabbing his pillow from off the bed.

Stiles tries to intercept him and gently push him towards the bed. “No way, we said we’d switch off. Incentive to find the cure, right?”

Peter moves out of his way and puts a hand on Stiles to stop him. “Werewolf, remember? I can be comfortable on the floor and won’t have a backache in the morning.”

Stiles scratches his head and grabs the t-shirt he’s been sleeping in, looking towards the bedroom door. “It still doesn’t seem fair. Maybe you take the bed and I’ll take the couch?”

“If you’re not too uncomfortable with it, you sleep in the bed and I’ll sleep on top of the covers with a blanket. Will that work for you?” Peter asks. “I promise, I’ll be a gentleman.”

“That’ll work,” Stiles says quickly, blushing while he shuts off the light to get undressed, even though he knows it’s pointless if Peter wants to look.  This version of Peter, however, turns his back as well trying to keep Stiles from feeling awkward. Except it’s all awkward.

When they’re both in bed, Peter quietly says, “Thank you, for earlier. For talking with me. I’m remembering more and talking with you helped.”

“Sure,” Stiles says, and rubs his arm. “Don’t worry, we’ll get this fixed and we’ll get you back.”

Peter pats his hand and rolls over, turning his back to Stiles. “I’m not sure I want to go back to who I was.”

Chapter Text

“This is interesting,” Lydia says, pulling two of the books towards her. They started a little later this morning, as Peter wanted to run a couple of errands, which means Stiles has to get up and go with him. Or else Peter dies. Which means that while they’re studying, they’re also eating Stiles’ favorite breakfast buns from the local bakery.

“Maybe finish what you’re eating first,” Peter suggests and hands Stiles a napkin. “I’m glad you’re enjoying breakfast, but let’s not get any butter on the books.”

Stiles shoves the rest of the cinnamonny bun into his mouth and wipes his fingers on the napkin Peter gave him. “M’kay,” he mumbles to Lydia, “what do you have?”

Lydia stops for a minute to focus her thoughts and then takes four of the books they’ve been working on and arranges them on the table in front them. “Okay, we found what appears to be the same potion in these four books. The ingredients are slightly different based on where and when the potion was written down, but translating, these are the same. This is what we think is the first version of the potion,” she points to the book on the far left, in front of Allison.

Allison looks down at the book and reads, “Oh. Oh, I get it. This says, ‘This potion to cleave them unto you.’ What’s the next one say?”

Lydia looks at the book in front of her and says, “Basically the same, it says it’s a love potion to join them to you.”

Peter takes the third book and re-reads the potion they’ve all read a hundred times over the last couple of days. “This is the one that Stiles used. This says the potion is to repel them from you.”

“This one is back to joining them to you,” Stiles says and puts his head down on the table with a thump.

“It’s a contronym,” Peter says looking at his book and back at the one Allison read from. “Cleave. It means to cling to and it also means to sever. At some point, when someone translated the spell into the version Stiles used…”

“They did it wrong,” Lydia says, looking at the books again. “And you happened to get the version that had it with the incorrect translation.”

“Is there anything that shows the antidote to it?” Stiles asks, picking up the first book and flipping through pages, even though he’s seen everything countless times. “You know if I were setting up these books, I’d have one page be a potion and the next page would be the counter-potion.”

“That sounds like a good idea; maybe you should put together that version when we’re finished with this and you have time.” When the doorbell rings, Peter smiles adoringly and says, “Stiles, I think that’s for you.”

“God, what now?” he asks and answers the door, coming back a minute later with a vase of flower wrapped in tissue paper and a large white bow.

“Really, Peter? Flowers?” Stiles asks, setting the vase on the table.

“Oh, let’s see,” Allison says, unwrapping the vase and handing the unopened card to Stiles. “Red tulips, they’re beautiful,” she tells Peter, who looks pleased.

“They are pretty,” Lydia says, gently touching one of the buds that’s just opening. “A declaration of love.”

“Nice, thanks, Peter,” Stiles says, trying to keep his tone sarcastic as he reads and pockets the card. But they are really pretty and no one has ever sent him flowers before. “You know you shouldn’t have, it’s the spell talking.”

“Well, neither the florist nor Visa seemed to care about a spell. And they made you smile, that’s all I wanted,” Peter answers, brushing a hand on Stiles’ arm. Stiles is getting so used to it, he no longer even jerks away.

“I wonder if Deaton can do anything with our new information,” Lydia muses, looking at the four potions again. “Maybe he can use this somehow.”

“Sure, why not. Peter, you up for a field trip?” Stiles asks, grabbing his jacket and heading towards the door. He knows Peter will follow, he has no choice.

Deaton shuttles them into his back room, which Stiles always thinks of as the werewolf treatment room and listens as Stiles explains what they found.

“Interesting,” he chuckles, as he looks at the various books. “Cleave and cleave. Can you imagine the first person who attempted this potion and got the wrong result.”

“Yeah, that’s frigging hilarious,” Stiles replies. “So any new ideas from this? Does this help undo it?”

Deaton sits on the edge of a desk, looking at the potion in first book, scratching his chin. “No. Not really. It does explain why the problem occurred, but I don’t think it helps us with reversing the effects.”

“Great,” Stiles says, deflating and sinking into a chair that Peter quietly positioned under him. “How about if we find ingredients that do the opposite of the ones I used? Could we create a new potion?”

“Umm,” Peter says quietly, raising his hand, “I’m not sure I’m in favor of that. While I trust you, I’m not certain that’s a great idea. There’s a bit of a guinea pig aspect to that.”

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Peter on that.” Deaton continues to look quietly at the book and then studies Peter sitting patiently in front of him and Stiles fidgeting in his chair. “Peter inhaled the potion, but you didn’t do any spell with it, right?”

“Right. I have the spell that I was going to do, but I didn’t do it on Peter. Glad I didn’t.”

“Good. These potions were originally created to be short-term. They were designed to last for a couple of weeks or a month at the most. Long enough to allow someone to marry and possibly take over a person’s wealth or their title. In some instances, only long enough to allow the person giving the potion time to seduce someone, and have it appear to be willingly. Then, even when the potion wore off, if the person who had been drugged was pregnant, they’d end up having to marry the potion giver,” Deaton explains while the two men listen carefully.

“Terrific, so basically a long-term roofie. Great business we’re in, isn’t it?” Stiles asks, anxiously running a hand through his hair.

“Well, these potions and spells are certainly not ones we’d want to use now. And remember they were developed, for the most part, by humans for use on humans.” Deaton turns to look at the calendar on the wall before saying, “The potion was taken after the full moon, right?”

“Yes, just a couple of days ago,” Stiles says nodding. The full moon was over a week earlier.

“That’s good at least,” Deaton says. “Sometimes the moon can…set a potion or spell. On the other hand, there’s a chance that the new moon will cancel the effects of the potion.”

“A chance? How much of a chance?” Stiles asks, leaning forward.

Deaton sighs and looks at the ceiling for a moment. “It’s not an exact science, you know. We have to take into account that Peter’s a werewolf, not a human. How many days in between the full moon and the new moon. We should probably take his death into consideration…”

By this time, Stiles is pacing the room while Peter placidly watches him. “Yeah, all of that, Deaton. Can you guess on a percentage?”

“Seventy percent? Maybe eighty?” Deaton answers. “But again, that’s not certain. I think you should continue to look through the books and see what else you can find.”

“Seventy to eighty percent? We’ll keep looking, but I guess we can hope the new moon will reverse it,” Stiles says, looking over at Peter, who looks as unfazed as ever.  

Deaton smiles at both of them and rises to show them out. “I think there’s a real chance for this. New moon, new wolf.”

Chapter Text

When they get back to the jeep, Stiles stops and sits, thinking about what to do next. That’s answered for him by his “Papa Don’t Preach” ring tone.

“Hey, Dads, what’s up?” he asks cheerfully.

“I’m not sure, Stiles. You’ve been home on break for a week, I see you for ten minutes and you’ve been gone ever since. I know you want to see your friends, but how about you plan to spend some time with your old man?”

Stiles nods, certain that his guilt can be felt over the phone. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right and I’m sorry. How about tonight, are you working?”

“No, I’m not and tonight would be good. I can pick something up if you want, or we can go out, up to you,” his father answers.

“Well….” Stiles looks over at Peter, who is attempting to give him some privacy by looking out the window at the vet clinic. “There is just a little problem. Do you mind if I bring someone for dinner?”

“Little problem?” his father asks, worry in his tone. “Like of the Scott and Derek variety?”

“Great code, Dad, no one would suspect a thing. And yes, that kind of problem. I’ll explain when we get there and we’ll bring something home for dinner. See you in a little bit,” he hangs up and turns to Peter who looks at him attentively. “Guess what, you get to meet the parents.”

“Hey, Dad, we’re home!” Stiles calls, entering the house with Peter behind him.

“Stiles,” his father says, looking over his shoulder at the other man.

“Dad, I’m not sure if you remember Peter Hale. He’s Derek’s uncle.”

“I do remember him. He died, didn’t he? And killed a few people at one point.” Andrew asks, looking at him carefully.

Peter nods. “I went through a phase. I got better,” he says with a shrug.

Andrew seems to think about this for a bit and then wilts into his chair. “Sure. Of course, that’s the kind of thing that happens here. So are we having dinner?”

“Absolutely!” Stiles cries out with too much enthusiasm. “Peter and I stopped at the grocery store and he’s cooking; he’s a great cook. Chef, tell him what we’re having.”

“Pork tenderloin with garlic, lemon and rosemary. Couscous with olives and feta. Green beans with tomatoes and onions. And a very nice Syrah,” Peter says, lifting the grocery store bags.

“Get it, Dad? It’s like a menu with a theme! Greek night! Oh and by the way, Peter inhaled a potion and he’s kind of in love with me. We’ll be in the kitchen,” Stiles says and grabs Peter’s arm to drag him out of the room.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Andrew stands as Peter and Stiles freeze. “Love potion? Are you okay, Stiles? Do you need supervision?”

“Dad, I’m okay and no supervision needed,” Stiles assures him, patting his shoulder. “Really, it’s a very respectful love potion. No sex pollen or anything like that, that stuff doesn’t exist.”

“Yes, it does,” Peter says quietly.

Stiles stares at him for a moment and turns back to his father. “Okay, so maybe it does, but this isn’t it. This is just smooshy lovey stuff and if we’re more than five miles apart, he stops breathing. Me, I’m good. But really, other than that, totally fine.”

“That’s just… It’s … Should you…” Andrew shakes his head and sits back down, grabbing the TV remote. “I get pork, right? And the other stuff?”

“Absolutely. Pork tenderloin has about the same amount of fat as chicken breasts,” Peter answers continuing into the kitchen. “A Mediterranean diet is very healthy.”

Andrew sighs, leaning back to raise the foot rest as he rubs his forehead and looks for a ball game.

Peter unpacks groceries in the kitchen while Stiles paces around the kitchen, peaking into the living room at his father. “Okay, what do you need me to do?” he asks.

Peter hands him a glass of wine and a plate with a pita, some olives, a small bowl of hummus and some cubed feta. “Give this to your father to snack on while we get dinner started. Maybe he has low blood sugar.”

“It’s way beyond that, but wow, you’ll spoil him like you’re spoiling me,” Stiles says with a grin and takes the plate into his dad.

When he comes back, Peter’s busy chopping something. “That helped soothe things. So can I help?”

Peter shakes his head and says, “Have you updated everyone on our visit to Deaton? Maybe you should sit and do that while I’ll take care of this.”

By the time Stiles is done updating Scott, Lydia, and Derek, dinner is cooking and he and Peter sit down for a couple minutes. “You know, perhaps we should take tomorrow off. Skip looking through the books for a day and just do something fun. Since I’m so likeable at this moment,” Peter smiles and raises an eyebrow. “I guess we don’t expect it to last.”

“We could do something fun,” Stiles answers, grinning. And when Peter touches his hand, he doesn’t move away.

Dinner is remarkably comfortable, almost to the point that Stiles is nervous, waiting for some sort of explosion. His father and Peter seem to hit it off finding lots to talk about, including college sports rivalries. Stiles learns that Peter played basketball at UCLA and apparently they have a huge and long-standing rivalry with Pepperdine, his father’s alma mater. After dinner, they take over the living room watching a hockey game and finish the bottle of wine, while Stiles resigns himself to working on a chemistry paper that’s due the week he’s back at school.

“Well, not that it wasn’t fun eating your food and rubbing your face in the failure that is the UCLA basketball program, but I have to work in the morning. And unless I’m completely mistaken, the sofa is less than five miles away from Stiles room,” his father says, rising and carrying his empty wine glass into the kitchen.

“That’ll work, and thank you for your hospitality, I’m sure this is awkward,” Peter says. He turns and smiles at Stiles. “If you could get me a pillow and blanket…”

Stiles nods and heads upstairs to the linen closet. “Sure, I’ll be right back.”

He freezes when he hears his dad downstairs saying, “Is this something that fades away or how is it cured? It is cured, right?”

“We’re working with Dr. Deaton and we think it should clear up at the new moon. And Stiles is still looking at potions that would reverse it. Stiles is…he’s remarkable,” Peter answers him and Stiles can hear the affection in his voice, making him hurry back down the stairs.

“Blankets and a pillow!” he calls out, thrusting them at Peter. “You’ll be okay getting yourself set up and comfortable, right? Of course you will; you’re an adult. Not that I’m not, because I am, we both are. And you know how to work the TV remote and you know where the kitchen is and…”

His father looks at them and shakes his head as he turns towards the stairs. “I thought I’d worry less when you went to college.”

“So tomorrow?” Stiles starts, when his father is up stairs.

“I know you were looking forward to sleeping in your own bed, so tomorrow, let’s sleep in. Then I’ll make breakfast and we’ll have a day out. Think about what you might want to do,” Peter says, spreading the blanket on the couch. Stiles tries not to watch as he kicks off his shoes and starts to pull his t-shirt over his head. “Whatever makes you happy.”

Upstairs, Stiles quickly strips and gets into his wonderful bed, wiggling until he’s comfortable. Although it’s only been a couple of days, he finds that it’s hard to go to sleep without Peter’s steady breathing in the room with him.

Chapter Text

“Stiles? Stiles, I think it’s time for you to get up.”

The voice comes from far away, gently pulling him back to consciousness. That and the scent of coffee from the cup Peter put on the night stand.

“Umm, ‘kay, thanks, Peter. Time ‘zit?” he mutters, covering his mouth so Peter can avoid the worst of the morning breath.

The wolf sits on the side of his bed and helps Stiles hold his coffee for a first noisy slurp. “Almost ten, love. I know I said I’d let you sleep in, but I’m thinking if you sleep much more you’ll end up with a headache.”

“Wow, yeah. I didn’t mean to sleep quite this late. You sleep okay?” he asks yawning again and carefully stretching so he doesn’t spill the coffee.

“Yes, thank you, your couch is very comfortable.” Peter takes the cup and holds it while Stiles pulls himself out of bed. “I made your father breakfast before he left. He asked that you call and give him updates. And said you should have fun today,” Peter finishes with a grin.

“Again, gotta say wow. You and my dad. So do we have plans?” Stiles asks, pulling clean clothes out of his dresser drawers.

“I have an idea. Why don’t you shower and dress while I make you breakfast? Come down when you’re ready,” Peter says, snagging the empty cup. “I’ll bring you up a refill for when you’re dressing.”

“Ah, you just wanna sneak a look while I’m in the shower,” Stiles says, grinning.

Peter raises an eyebrow and says, “Maybe.”

Over the breakfast Peter’s prepared, Stiles admits he has no idea what to do on a day off. He suggests they see a movie and Peter suggests they drive west to the coast.

“I have a friend who lives outside Eureka, so it’s about a three hour drive. She’s an herbalist,” Peter says and holds up a hand when Stiles looks excited. “She’s not a witch, she doesn’t make potions; but she grows wonderful plants. She makes some natural medicines and teas. I think you’ll enjoy meeting her and she’d be a good contact for you in the future.”

“Sounds good to me,” Stiles answers, around his fourth slice of French toast. “You don’t mind driving that much?”

Peter shrugs and starts the dishwasher. “It’s fine, it’ll be a nice drive. We can stop for lunch there and be home at a reasonable hour. Or if you’d prefer, we can take a little longer and get a hotel for the night and come home tomorrow.”

“Can we decide on that part later? I can throw an extra shirt and stuff into a backpack in case we do, but…”

“Of course.  No pressure, Stiles. We can go when you’re ready; I would like to stop at my apartment for a change of clothes as well. And you should probably let Derek know the plan, he worries about you,” Peter says, gathering his coat and heading to the door.

They get on the road quickly, taking Peter’s car. He drives fast, but with his werewolf reflexes Stiles feels relaxed. Peter lets him control the radio and their conversation is easy on the drive out, talking about college and Derek’s plan for the family house. The weather is perfect for January, clear and in the mid-50s.

“So this woman we’re visiting,” Stiles ventures.

“Gretchen O’Fallon,” Peter supplies.

“Gretchen, okay. How do you know her?”

Peter sighs and furrows his brow. “I’m not one hundred percent sure, actually. Meaning, I’m not sure when we met, it’s kind of fuzzy.” He glances at Stiles and back at the road, moving around a car that might be too slow in the fast lane. “I think we had a relationship before, but I can’t quite remember when or how it started or when we broke up. This won’t make you uncomfortable will it? That she’s my ex.”

“No, of course not,” he says immediately. “It’s fine, really. I’m not upset about it if you’re not. You sure you’re okay doing this?”

Peter shrugs and scratches his cheek. “I don’t really remember much about her, so I’m fine. I think the potion might dull memories about any other attachments, because things are fuzzy in that area. She sent me a text a couple of days ago saying that she had a nice supply of pennyroyal and I should come by.”

”Hmm. So we’re going based on the text?”

“Of course not. I phoned her and told her that I really wasn’t sure exactly who she is and asked her for some information.” They pull off the freeway and Peter drives quietly for a minute. “She asked a couple of questions and pretty quickly came to the conclusion that I’d been drugged by something, so I explained what’s going on. She knew things about me. And I trust her. But as I said, she can’t help with the potion. This is strictly a field trip for a vacation day.”

They pull in front of a small cottage, the ocean across a dirt road. It’s windy and foggy and Stiles grabs his sweatshirt out of the back of the car.

“Peter, I’m so glad you made it! And you must be Stiles, it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Gretchen.” She’s pretty, with dark auburn hair and looks to be in about her mid-40s. “Peter, you look great, but that’s not surprising, you never age, you bastard.”

“Gretchen,” Peter sighs and moves to hug her, holding her tightly. Stiles looks away to give them some privacy while they whisper to each other.

“I’m sorry, Stiles,” he says after a moment, “that was rude.”

“No problem. So she looks familiar, I guess?”

“Peter! You mean you didn’t remember me?” Gretchen asks with a laugh. “That must be some enchantment you’re under. Come on in the house and have a drink.”

Her house is small and cozy with plants everywhere. It smells slightly spicy and a little earthy. Stiles doesn’t bother to try to hide his curiosity as he looks into each room they pass on their way to the small living room, which has a view of the gray ocean.

“So will this potion wear off or do you have something to reverse it?” Gretchen asks, pouring them a sweet red tea. “Well, I guess if you had something, you would have used it,” she chuckles.

Stiles takes a copy of the printed potion out of his pocket and shows it to her. “I know you don’t do things like this, but here’s what it is. We’re about 70% sure it’ll reverse with the new moon.”

She looks at the paper and shakes her head. “I recognize some of the things here, but not all of it. Nothing I do has any type of animal blood in it.”

“We knew that, and it’s fine, Gretchen. I thought Stiles might want to see your greenhouse, if you’re willing.” Peter smiles his too-calm smile at her.

“Absolutely, let’s go for a walk.” She leads them through two greenhouses at the back of her property, explaining the uses for the various plants to Stiles and handing items back to Peter who puts them on a tray. After a couple of minutes, Stiles starts taking notes on his phone and asking questions about combining plants and the best way to make them thrive.

“We really shouldn’t take any,” he says, glancing back at Peter and his tray with a dozen small containers. “I’ll be going back to school in a couple of weeks and I don’t think I’ll be able to take care of them.”

Gretchen shakes her head and says, “Don’t worry, Peter’s good with plants. He likes them more than he likes most people. Peter, why don’t you put those in your car while Stiles and I have a chat?”

She walks across the small street and Stiles follows her to sit on a bench facing the ocean. “This is nice here. We’re more forest, you know? But I could do ocean,” he says. “Um, do you mind if I ask how you know Peter? I mean, I know you dated, right?”

“Yes, quite a while ago. Fifteen years, I think? It was serious, at least I thought it was. And he broke up with me and broke my heart. Then eventually we became friends, although not with benefits. Even though I sometimes regret that, but hey, no going backwards, right?” She leans back and studies him and he tries not to squirm under her gaze. “I’m glad that I’m finally getting to meet you, I’ve heard quite a bit about you.”

“Really?” Stiles asks, eyebrows raised. “From Peter? Oh god, I can imagine what he said.”

Gretchen chuckles and pats his arm. “Yeah, well originally it wasn’t always flattering. You were called the one who set me on fire and then the one who’s always around and the clever little shit who is always around. I think it wasn’t until you went off to college that it registered that your actual name is Stiles.”

“He talked about me?” Stiles exclaims. “I mean, that’s interesting.”

“You know, I don’t know a lot about the kind of spells or magic you do and I don’t really want to. But I do think that with most things like that, there has to be some sort of openness or acceptance for them to take. I could be wrong, but that’s my take. Anyway, we should get back.” Gretchen takes Stiles arm and they start to walk back towards the house where Peter’s waiting. “You’ll have to come back again to visit when Peter’s more himself and less…neutered.”

“I’d like that. I guess we’ll see,” Stiles answers and watches Peter smiling at them.

“You drive,” Peter says, tossing him the car keys.

“Really? Where are we going?” Stiles asks, getting into the driver’s seat and adjusting the mirrors.

“Dinner if that’s okay.” Peter replies, settling in to the passenger seat. “Have you thought about staying over?”

“Dinner sounds good, I’m always hungry.” Stiles pulls back on the highway and follows Peter’s directions, heading north. “I’m thinking maybe we should get back home tonight. I know my Dad’ll worry and Derek will, too. Plus there’s the money – and no, you can’t pay for everything.”

“That’s fine,” Peter says mildly. “It’s not a long ride and you can sleep on the way home if you’d like.”

“Maybe, depends on how much I eat. So tell me where we’re going.”

Peter directs him to a small restaurant up the coast. It’s long and narrow so even though the restaurant is busy, they have no trouble getting a table by the window, facing the darkened ocean.

“You like seafood, right? I think I remember that,” Peter asks, looking at the wine list.

“Sure,” Stiles says, reading the menu. “Shrimp. Crab. There’s a few things that sound good. Expensive, but good.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow and smiles without bothering to look up. “We’re not doing that again, are we? Especially in this case, since I’m eating, too.”

When the waitress comes over, Peter quickly points at the wine list and says, “We need champagne. And we’ll start with the caviar. We’ll order after that.”

“Caviar?” Stiles squawks, terror in his eyes. “Peter, I’m not…”

“You’ll try it and if you don’t like it, I’ll eat it,” he says as the waitress pours them each a glass of champagne and places their appetizer in front of them.

“How do you eat this?” Stiles asks, looking to Peter.

Peter takes a pancake and puts a small amount of the caviar on it. “This is a blini and you put the caviar on it. And a dot of crème fraiche. And then you eat it and it’s delicious.” He hands the plate to Stiles and waits.

“Just put the whole thing in my mouth?”

“Open your mouth and put it all in, Stiles,” Peter says, grinning and preparing his own.

Stiles shoves it in his mouth and chews a couple of times before he stops and stares at Peter. “Oh god,” he mutters “this is awful.” He grabs his glass of champagne and downs it quickly.

Peter shrugs and refills his glass, pushing it towards Stiles. “You like the champagne at least?”

“Yes, I like that. A lot.” Stiles sips his drink this time. “Sorry, I didn’t like the caviar. It was too salty and fishy and kind of weird.”

“It’s an acquired taste, I suppose. So there’s more for me.” Peter carefully prepares another for himself. “You know what you want for dinner?”

“Umm…crab? And a salad, I guess.”

“Good choice, I’ll have the same,” Peter replies and signals the waitress to order their dinner.

As they leave the restaurant after dessert, Stiles elbows Peter and says, “Thanks. For dinner and for the day. And for not being mad that I didn’t like the caviar.”

“You like whatever you do. Thank you for trying it. And I know you keep saying this isn’t real, but I do like taking care of you.”

Peter drives home while Stiles sleeps peacefully. He snores.

Chapter Text

The next day, Peter and Stiles look through the books once more, but they’re no more successful than they’ve been before. Lydia hasn’t even bothered to check again because at this point, she knows that there isn’t a potion to reverse the one Peter inhaled.

“This is bullshit. I think we’re going to need to depend on the new moon for the fix, Peter.” Stiles shuts the book he’s been looking at and pushes it aside.

“Told you,” Lydia retorts with a smug smile, sipping her wine.

“That’s okay, it’s just a few days away.” Peter brushes a finger across Stiles’ hand. “You did your best.”

“Isn’t there is a potion to make someone hate you?” Erica asks, poking at one of the books with a bright pink nail. “Since apparently your natural personality isn’t doing it?”

“We don’t want to make Peter hate Stiles, we just want Peter back the way he was. At this point, I don’t care if he’s still in love with Stiles, I’m just tired of the sickly sweetness,” Derek says from where he’s standing in the kitchen, angrily eating leftover garlic bread.

“Really, who would have thought that we’d miss the old Peter?” Isaac asks, nudging Allison.

“Not me, that’s for sure,” she says, but smiles to take out any sting. It’s been years since he killed Kate, which she knows was more than justified. And they all have things for which they need to be forgiven.

Peter looks around the group, all sprawled around Derek’s living room, eating the lasagna he made. “Was I really horrible? I remember some things, but it’s not all clear.”

“Well, I’ve been told when the alpha pack kidnapped Boyd and me, you didn’t think we should be rescued,” Erica answers.

“Now wait, let’s be fair. It’s not so much he didn’t think you should be rescued, more that he didn’t think we should do the rescuing,” Stiles explains, patting Peter’s knee. “Granted, it’s a subtle difference.”

“I fail to see the difference, and I was there.” Boyd says. “And I like this version; he cooks.”

Isaac looks at Peter and grins coldly. “My favorite was the time you locked me in a closet because I apparently did something that annoyed you. And then Scott threw you off Derek’s balcony.”

“In your defense, you didn’t know that Isaac has issues with being in small spaces,” Stiles tells Peter, who at least looks genuinely appalled at Isaac’s story. “We had some time to discuss it outside since you had a few broken bones to heal before you came back upstairs. And you did apologize.” He looks to Isaac and confirms, “He did apologize.” Isaac shrugs and leans his head on Allison’s shoulder.

“I’ll tell you my favorite Peter story,” Derek says, taking a seat in the living room, next to Lydia, who moves over a fraction of an inch. “When I was about 14 - yeah, probably 14…”

“Werewolf ages,” Stiles whispers, rolling his eyes.

Derek continues as though Stiles hasn’t spoken, “My mother found a porn magazine under my mattress. I hadn’t put it there, so I had no idea it was there. But she found it and started asking me if I had anything I wanted to talk about.”

“Oh, porn! I love this story already,” Erica beams, getting cozy under Boyd’s arm.

“Of course, I told her no, no problems, nothing to talk about. And she keeps asking me and having my father ask me about it.” Derek pauses and takes a drink of wine. “Oh, did I mention it was gay porn? Explicit gay BDSM porn.”

“It keeps getting better,” Isaac whispers to Allison, who chuckles into his curls.

“Couldn’t your parents tell that you weren’t lying when they asked you about it?” Scott asks, dropping down next to Allison.

Derek nods. “Sure. They knew I wasn’t lying when I said I had nothing to talk about and nothing was bothering me. So they thought their 14 year old son was perfectly happy masturbating to pictures of leather men shackled to a cross.”

“I’m guessing you’re going to say that I put the magazine there?” Peter asks, rubbing his lips, partially hiding a grin.

“Oh yes, of course you did. At one point, Dad asked if I wanted to talk with someone outside the family, like a therapist. I asked if I had done something wrong because they hadn’t told me they found ‘my’ magazine, so I had no idea what they were hinting about.” Derek tops off his glass and leans forward to pour the remainder in Peter’s. “Luckily, dad’s sister, Marian, pointed out that the magazine had no smell at all. Not mine, not anyone’s and that was suspicious. She also said that magazine would be pretty expensive and questioned where I’d get the money. When Mom heard suspicious, Peter immediately came to her mind.”

“And that’s a good Peter story?” Allison asks.

“It’s funny now,” Derek says, shaking his head and grinning. “And if it had been Cora or Laura, it would be really funny now.” He’s quiet for a minute and then looks over at Peter. “When you’re you, when you’re not a homicidal maniac, you’re okay. Still a dick, but okay. You can be funny. And helpful as long as it’s not inconvenient to you. No, you’re not my favorite person in the world, and you never will be.  But you’re family, and we don’t have a lot of family so I don’t want to lose more.”

Scott punches him in the shoulder and says gleefully, “That might be the most I’ve ever heard you say at one time.”

“Just a couple more days, Derek, and we’ll have old Peter back,” Stiles assures him.

“Hope so,” Derek says, and shuts himself in his room.

“Stiles, are you okay?”

He paces around the loft, rubbing his hands together, looking out the window. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just feeling antsy.”

Scott rubs his shoulder and looks at him carefully, subtly scenting him. “You sure?”

Peter sits on the couch and reads his book, very carefully not watching them. “Maybe you should go out for a bit.”

“Can we?” Stiles asks Scott. “You okay going out, just talk a little.”

Scott shrugs and looks from Stiles to Peter. “Sure, if you’re okay with it. We’ll stay within your five mile limit. No use killing him when the new moon’s so close.”

“Okay, great.” Stiles sits next to Peter, saying, “If you feel at all uncomfortable, you can phone me or someone phones me, okay? And I’ll send a text when we stop and let you know when we’re coming back, okay?”

Allison just grins and says, “Don’t worry, mom, we’ll take good care of him.”

On the way out, Scott grabs Peter’s latest gift, a box of chocolate covered strawberries. “Road food,” he says, slamming the loft door behind them.

When they get in the jeep, Stiles lets Scott drive. He knows where they’re going and Stiles feels too jumpy to drive anyway. “So what’s going on?” Scott asks as they get on the road.

“Hmmmm!” Stiles just points at his ear and turns away. “Too close,” he mutters. “Is there a place we can talk that doesn’t go outside the five mile limit? Probably not, this is pointless. Stupid werewolf hearing.”

“No, I know a place,” Scott says, making a couple of turns. “It’s down a hill, almost in a ravine, keeps things private. Isaac and I found it.”

“I can go to your and Isaac’s secret place?” Stiles smirks and raises an eyebrow.

“Shut up. That isn’t what you want to talk about, is it?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. I’m curious, I admit it. I mean, come on, I told you I thought I was bisexual when I was twelve. You could have mentioned something any time before now.”

“I didn’t know!” Scott exclaims. “It…it kind of snuck up on us. And Isaac is telling me to shut up, so…”

“Okay, so confirmation we’re still within range,” Stiles says looking out the window and checking his phone for the mileage app. “We’re just past three, are we close?”

“Yup, we’re here,” Scott says pulling to the side of the dirt road and getting out of the jeep. “Grab the chocolates.”

Stiles follows him down a steep hill to a small lake, and they both sit on a fallen log. It’s been cool, but still dry and they’re surrounded by trees. While Scott helps himself to a chocolate, Stiles sends a quick text, and checks for a reply. “Is there reception here?”

“Sure, but we’re not quite four miles, he’ll be okay. And Isaac knows where we are, so if something happens, he can get Peter here in just a couple of minutes. He’s fine.” Scott studies him for a minute and says, “You’re really worried about him, aren’t you?”

“What, you mean because he’s like the best boyfriend ever? The new boyfriend standard against which all other boyfriends will be measured? If you add in sex and take out the part about it being completely against his will.” Stiles slips to the ground, resting his back against the log. “I really like having a boyfriend. But I also really miss Peter.”

“That’s what’s bugging you? You miss old Peter?” Scott asks, joining his friend on the ground, shoving the box of berries towards him. “Did you eat any of these, they’re really good.”

“No, because you’ve been eating them all. I’m sure they’re good, Peter’s a good provider. That’s what he’s doing you know. Showing me he’s a good provider. It’s a wolf thing, you should know that.” Stiles takes a strawberry, stopping to admire the dark chocolate and white chocolate stripes before he bites into it and moans.

“Yeah, isn’t it? I gotta get some of these for Isaac, he’s got a real sweet tooth,” Scott says, taking another. “So you’re upset because enchanted Peter is a really good boyfriend and you’re afraid you won’t get another good one? ‘Cause like you said, it’s not real.”

“I know that, Scott. And I like this boyfriend thing. But I miss regular Peter. Snarky, bitchy, smart Peter. The one who barely tolerates me.” He checks his phone and takes another berry. “You know Peter gave me a watch? We were in bed talking and…”

Scott looks at him, berry frozen half way to his mouth. “In bed?”

“Yeah, just talking before we went to sleep and then he takes out a box and tells me it’s because I need a waterproof watch since I keep falling into lakes and things. Which was that one time, by the way.” Stiles stops and looks over at Scott who’s just grinning at him. “What?”

“Just pillow talk in bed?” Scott asks. “Cozy. Cute. ”

“Talking, yes. There’s no reason for one of us to sleep on the floor. And you know Derek hates people sleeping on his couch.” He looks away and chews on his lip before continuing. “We started with me in the bed and Peter on top of the covers, but he’s kinda heavy and I ended up unable to move so we just sleep in the bed. But just sleeping, no cuddling or anything.”

Scott raises an eyebrow and says, “No, of course not, no cuddling. So where’s the watch?”

“I gave it back. It was an expensive watch, and I told him I couldn’t accept it. He said that he’d keep it and give it to me for my birthday or something. The watch isn’t important, Scott. It’s just the whole thing is…” Stiles rests his head on his knees, shaking his head, exuding misery.

“Hey, it’ll be okay. He’ll be Peter again in a couple of days and you two will have a lot to talk about at least.” Scott rubs Stiles’ shoulders and noses into his neck. It used to freak Stiles out, but he knows that it’s Scott trying to be comforting.

“Guess so.” He sits up and pats Scott’s knee, visibly steeling himself. “So do we have time for you to tell me about you and Isaac and Allison?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“What do you want to know? It just kind of happened I guess. They’re my two best friends – two of my best friends – and Allison was dating each of us and then she gets all upset and says that she can’t keep on doing this to us, she has to make a choice.” Scott looks away and Stiles sees his cheeks get pink. “So Isaac says that it’s okay for her to date both of us. And he meant just keep on doing what we were doing, and she’d date each of us separately. But Allison says great, let’s go out on Saturday.”

“Bet you freaked.” Stiles says, grinning. “I would’ve.”

“Little bit at first. I mean, it was like a regular night out, but we all knew it was a date. So it was kinda weird,” Scott agrees.

“And then you three jumped into bed?” Stiles asks around the strawberry in his mouth.

“No, not at first. Eventually. First kinda her and him and then me and her.” Scott looks down again, so uncomfortable that Stiles doesn’t need to be a wolf to tell.

“Do you know how much I want to say ‘It’s not gay if it’s a three-way’? But eventually, you three decided to just roll around all together and it’s working well?” he asks his friend. “You’re happy, I can tell, all three of you. You’re oozing happiness. It’s disgusting.”

Scott hits his arm and sputters, “Dude! Come on, that’s just…Yeah, we’re happy.”

“I’m rude, I know,” Stiles grins. “But hey, I’m glad you’re happy, however it’s working. And you three do seem happy, that’s all that counts.”

“We are. It’s like being in love with your best friends,” Scott agrees, awe in his voice. “Well, best friends like…”

“I know, it’s okay, Scott. Besides I’m your bro, always will be but I do not want to be naked with you. And I really can’t say anything, I’m crushing on a well-known dick-head who might end up wanting to kill me in a couple of days,” Stiles says, sighing. “Did I tell you that we went to see one of his ex-girlfriends? She said it was like he’d been neutered. She didn’t like it either. She also said she thought that he would have to be at least a little willing for it to work.”

“You’re visiting his exes? That seems a little serious. Along with dinner with your Dad,” Scott teases. “But it makes sense, like a hypnotist can’t make you do something you wouldn’t if you weren’t hypnotized. And hey, you know that you can always talk with me. I’m never too busy to listen.”

Stiles stands and wipes his hands on his pants. “I know, Scotty, that’s why you’re my best bro. Let’s get back home, we’re out of strawberries.”

Chapter Text

The day of the new moon Stiles is cautiously optimistic. They’ve given up on finding anything in the potion books to reverse the effects and so the last couple of days waiting for the new moon have been calm. Most of the time is spent under Derek’s watchful eye, but when that gets to be too much, they leave. They don’t have to stay at the loft; they can go anywhere, as long as Peter and Stiles stay within five miles of each other.

So they’ve been to the movies, both with the others and just the two of them. They had another dinner with Stiles’ dad, that was actually pretty fun and damn, Peter can cook.

“So tonight’s the night, as they say,” Peter says, pouring himself and Stiles a glass of champagne. “Nervous?”

“Me?” Stiles squeaks. “Yeah, aren’t you? Either you’ll wake up tomorrow back to your old self or you’ll be stuck like this.”

“I guess I’m lucky, I don’t know what I’m missing. Few holes in the memory, but otherwise…” he shrugs. “I don’t know old me enough to miss him.”

“I’ll miss this,” Stiles says, gesturing at the table, at them together. “Doubt you’ll want to share champagne with me after tomorrow.”

Peter snorts quietly and sips his drink. “From what I understand, you probably won’t want to share a drink with me. Or spend any time with me.”

“I don’t know about that,” Stiles murmurs, with his head down. “I do like the old you.”

Leaning forward, Peter puts one finger under Stiles’ chin and lifts his head up to look at him and Stiles has a quick flashback to a night a long time ago on a football field. “At the risk of sounding like I’m twelve, do you mean that you like me, like me?”

“Yeah, asshole, I might mean that,” Stiles says snorting, pulling his head away. “Not that it means anything, just forget I said anything.”

“That’s not the kind of thing I’m likely to forget. An attractive, smart young man saying he likes me,” Peter says smiling and taking Stiles’ hand. “So you think that if I’m back to being an asshole tomorrow, you might consider me worth dating?”

“Dating? I can’t picture us dating, but yes, I’d like that, whatever it means. If you’re back to being you. Otherwise, if you’re still drugged like this…” Stiles shrugs and squeezes Peter’s hand. “Not that I don’t appreciate this guy, but I’d still feel like you don’t have free will. Not sexy.”

Peter smirks and says, “Interesting. So unless I’m awful, you won’t date me. You know that’s not a very healthy basis for a relationship.”

“Ooo, is that snark? I’m gonna take it as a good sign that we’re getting nearer to the new moon and your real personality is coming back,” Stiles says with a grin and gets up to grab the bottle of champagne from the counter.

Peter’s suddenly behind him, not quite blocking Stiles in. “Kiss me.”

“Peter, I can’t. I want to, believe me, I do, but tomorrow if you still want to, then yes.” It comes out as almost a whine.

“I give you permission, I want you to,” Peter murmurs, running his hand up Stiles’ arm, putting a gentle hand on his neck, fingers playing with his hair.

“That’s the point, you can’t give permission!” Stiles exclaims, taking Peter’s hand and holding it. “You’re not you in there,” he says, tapping Peter’s forehead with his other hand.

Peter quickly grabs his hand and pulls Stiles against him, hard enough to make Stiles gasp. Peter keeps his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and his other hand soothes down his back as he kisses him. Softly at first and then with more passion, tongue sweeping through Stiles’ mouth ending with a tender bite on his lower lip that leaves Stiles breathless.

“Damn,” Stiles pants. “I really hope you’re back to yourself tomorrow.

Peter reaches around him and pours them both more champagne, raising his glass in a toast. “Then here’s to tomorrow and the hope that I’m back to being awful.”

The morning after the new moon, Stiles wakes up in bed alone. Not unusual, Peter’s an early riser. He stretches, thinking that this is probably the last time he’ll wake up in Isaac’s room, which is very welcome. Probably the last night sleeping with Peter though, and even though it was just sleeping, it was nice.

“Coffee’s made,” Erica mutters, pointing to the counter top. Decidedly not a morning person, she’s slumped in one of the kitchen chairs, holding her cup like it’s a lifeline.

“Good morning, Stiles,” Peter says sipping his cup, newspaper in front of him. He very much is a morning person, usually the first one up.

Stiles’ heart drops a little as he smells the cinnamon from the unopened, pink bakery box on the table in front of him.

“Morning,” he mutters and helps himself to coffee.  He sits next to Peter and reaches for the box as he says, “So…how are you feeling today?”

“Fine, thank you,” Peter says and slaps Stiles’ hand. “And keep your mitts off my breakfast, please.”

Erica giggles and smiles at them both. “He’s baaaaack.” She gets up and kisses Stiles on the head before she leaves the room, calling, “Behave yourselves.”

“So you’re you again? New moon, new wolf?” He can barely talk, he’s smiling so hard.

Peter shrugs. “Apparently. Memory unfortunately intact, including the last week or so. Moderately embarrassing.”

“Great. Good. Not the embarrassing part, but the rest. I’ll call Deaton in a bit and let him know that you’re back to yourself,” Stiles says, nodding. “Everyone’ll be happy. Derek’ll be happy to have you back.”

“Hmm, I think so. I have to say, it was interesting finding out how people think of you. Not that most people have been shy in the past,” he says, quirking an eyebrow at Stiles. “And just so you know, normally, I’m not a flowers kind of man. I’ll gladly get you drunk, and often, but don’t expect a lot of roses.”

“So you mean,” Stiles pauses and studies Peter, who is back to reading his paper and pointedly ignoring him. “You mean, if we were to go out?”

“If we were. You haven’t asked me.” Peter raises an eyebrow and shows a bit of tooth.

“Peter, do you want to go out to dinner with me tonight?” Stiles asks. “On a date?”

“Sure. You asked, so you’re paying,” Peter says gleefully, pulling the bakery box towards him and ripping apart the bun inside, then pushing the box towards Stiles.

“Uh, okay. Remember, poor college student though,” Stiles answers, taking a piece of the sweet bun.

“Oh, god, you’re going to take me to Denny’s,” Peter sighs and rolls his eyes.

“How about Applebee’s? They have a full bar,” Stiles offers, bouncing in his chair, unable to stop smiling.

Peter gets up and refills both coffee cups. “How about I pick the restaurant and we split the bill?”

“It’ll probably still be more than my weekly food allowance at college, but I guess you’re worth it,” Stiles answers, putting more sugar into his coffee.

“I should think so, I did check my Visa statement on line this morning,” Peter tells him, eyebrow raised again.

“Hey! No one made you do that stuff!” Stiles exclaims.

“Oh really, great potion master?”

“Well… not all of it,” Stiles says quietly. “I tried to stop you. I didn’t accept the watch.”

“Maybe you’ll earn it later,” Peter says with a smirk.

“Damn, you are back.”

Six months later

“Stiles. Stiles. Get up, I want coffee. And breakfast.”

Peter’s foot goes from gently nudging Stiles’ legs to nearly shoving him out of bed. Fortunately, Stiles has experience with this and rolls on top of Peter to stop him.

“Your turn to make breakfast. And after everything I did last night, you should make me breakfast,” he leers and ducks his head down to bite on Peter’s ear lobe.

“Hmm,” Peter hums, running his hands down Stiles’ back, dragging a finger up his crack. “If I remember correctly, I did all the heavy lifting. Speaking of, maybe you should just have fruit and yoghurt for breakfast today.”

“What?” Stiles cries in Peter’s ear. “Rude.”

“I’m just saying that as the person who had 170 pounds sitting on his face last night,” Peter answers, rubbing his ear, and giving Stiles a quick smack on the bottom. “More reason that you owe me breakfast. Omelette, please. With potatoes.”

Stiles kisses under Peter’s ear and whispers, “Maybe, just cause the face sitting was pretty good. What are you doing at the house today?”

Peter tilts his head back, giving Stiles more room and says, “Sheetrock again, I think.”

“Ugh, I hate sheetrock. You come home all covered in plaster dust and first thing you have to do is shower. Waste of perfectly good sweat.”

Peter turns his head and captures Stiles’ mouth in a slow kiss. “Maybe I’ll see if Boyd wants to swap and let me do some flooring today.”

“Do you know how to do flooring?”

Stiles can hear Peter roll his eyes as he sighs into his mouth. “Who do you think taught Boyd? So what are you going to do today?”

“Oh, it’s great! The guys are coming to pour the foundation for the greenhouse in the back,” Stiles answers, rolling over and pulling Peter with him.

Peter pulls back and looks at him, “So in other words, you’re doing nothing today.”

“I’m supervising! Someone has to supervise.”

“You’re standing around watching other people work,” Peter smirks and kisses him. “Your father’s been doing more work at the house than you have.”

“You just like him there so you can do that weird bonding thing you two do,” Stiles answer, grinning. He never expected his father to get along with Peter, but they do, and Peter isn’t too grabby in front of him.

“Maybe,” Peter concedes and rolls Stiles over and off the bed, making sure he lands on his feet. “Honey love, as long as you’re up, go make me breakfast. Denver omelette with potatoes and wheat toast.”

“Not even a please?” Stiles gripes, shimmying into a pair of underwear from off the floor. He walks down the hall towards the kitchen and calls out “You’re a terrible human being and the worst boyfriend ever.”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way,” Peter yells back.

“No,” Stiles mutters, knowing that Peter can still hear him. “You’re exactly what I want.”

The end