Peter was on the couch, watching Stiles pace the floor of the loft. He was waiting to take Cora out on their first official date, and the poor kid was wearing a footpath in the floorboards. Peter didn't have the heart to tell him that Cora would be able to hear every last nervous step.
He started to get exhausted just following Stiles' frantic pacing, so he picked up the television remote and idly flicked through channels.
"I'll be damned. Singin' in the Rain," Peter cooed reverently, setting the remote down on the cushion next to him. "It's been too long since I've seen this."
Stiles materialized next to the couch, wrinkling his nose at the screen and then turning to look at Peter from beneath raised eyebrows. "And again I ask, how old are you?"
And Peter couldn't even bring himself to be mildly affronted. These days, kids see an old movie and they recoil. It's a class of uncultured babies, for the most part, and Peter really couldn't be bothered to expect that Stiles would be any different.
Peter scoffed, turning his attention back to the opening credits. "Everything can't always be about jackasses and superheroes, Stiles."
"I can't even-" Stiles said, flailing his arms exasperatedly before opening his mouth like he was about to try anyway.
"Then don't," came Cora's voice from the staircase, and she crossed the loft and scruffed him by the back of his plaid shirt, tugging him towards the door.
Peter eyed them with a knowing smirk. "You behave, now."
"Not really sure if you're the guy to be telling me-" Stiles started, but Peter lifted a hand to silence him.
"I wasn't talking to you," Peter said, shifting his gaze pointedly to his niece.
Cora froze where she was putting on her jacket, eyes going wide and Peter was almost certain that she was starting to blush. "Shut up," she said, ducking her head to hide her smile as she grabbed for Stiles' hand and pulled him out the door after her.
It was just as well that they left when they did, because Cosmo Brown appeared on the screen just after the door clicked shut, and Peter thought he probably wouldn't have been able to help but vocalize a comparison between Cosmo and Stiles. Because there were similarities. But that would have been unacceptable, if only just because it was a compliment that would be thoroughly lost on Stiles.
Peter let his head loll back against the couch, mouthing 'dignity, always dignity' along with Don Lockwood.
Peter was engrossed in the movie, but not so much that he didn't notice Derek moving in his peripheral. He turned his head lazily to look at his nephew, freshly showered and clad in gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt. And Peter couldn't help smiling, because it looked right. Derek looked how he should always look. Like he was finally comfortable enough to let himself relax a little, in soft clothes and an even softer demeanor.
Derek regarded the screen with a quiet huff and what might've been a slight roll of his eyes as he walked by.
And oh, how jaded and stubborn Derek has become over the years. Because Peter could recall a time when it had been Derek's favorite, too. Could vividly remember curling up on the couch in the old Hale house, back when Derek was still in high school and everything was still intact and wonderful. He remembers placing a pillow in his lap and Derek resting his head there, Peter's fingers stroking languidly through Derek's hair as they watched Gene Kelly and Donald O'Connor dancing with fiddles.
It was a beautiful memory, perfect even. But certainly unattainable now, should Peter ever want to recapture it. And so, along with many other fond memories of a life that had long since been reduced to ruins, Peter preferred to put it out of his mind. It always ached more than it warmed him anyway.
Derek puttered around for a few minutes before he made his way to the couch, sinking down into the spot farthest away from Peter. And maybe that stung a little, but much like Stiles' abysmal taste in movies, Peter couldn't bring himself to expect anything different.
They watched in relative silence, Peter mouthing most of the dialogue along with the actors. The few times that Peter glanced over at Derek, he looked like he wasn't completely sold on his decision to sit there, like he might uproot himself at any moment. Peter tried not to want too hard for him to stay.
"Make 'em Laugh" started, and after about a minute of Cosmo dancing and flailing around with frenzied energy, Derek started to quietly laugh.
When Peter looked over at him, Derek just shook his head and mumbled, "Stiles."
"That's exactly what I was thinking earlier," Peter said, lips quirking up into a soft smile.
And then Derek smiled back, and it kindled something in Peter's core that spread warmth through him the likes of which he hadn't felt since back when all of those carefully locked away memories were still being made.
They went back to watching the movie, falling back into silence, but everything felt lighter now. It was kind of amazing, really, how one smile from Derek could lift a weight that was so ever-present that Peter had almost forgotten it was there.
Peter was ready to blame this entire night on nostalgia. It's a solid defense, he thought, as he pulled a throw pillow into his lap. He didn't look at Derek, didn't take his eyes off of the screen. But the gesture was there, awaiting Derek's interpretation.
He was just starting to contemplate shoving the pillow back into the space between his body and the arm of the couch when he felt Derek shifting next to him, and then he felt the comforting pressure of Derek's head settling into the pillow.
Peter didn't lose his breath. He didn't. He was simply holding it, trying to be as still as possible. This wasn't something he ever thought he'd see again, Derek trusting him enough to be this close. Derek trusting him at all, really. But the alpha was curled up on his side, head resting in Peter's lap as onscreen Don serenaded Kathy.
"You're like a plaintive melody, that never lets me be."
Peter didn't dare move, unwilling to do anything that might make Derek remove himself from where he was. Because it felt right. Like soft clothes and Derek finally letting himself be comfortable. It felt like it had years ago.
It felt like home.
And then Derek was sighing and reaching out, searching until his fingers closed around Peter's hand and guided it to his head.
Peter let out a chuckle that was decidedly more awestruck than it was amused and wove his fingers into Derek's faintly damp hair, carding slowly through.
Derek made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a whimper and a purr, and Peter was indescribably thankful as he grazed his fingertips lightly over Derek's scalp.
They stayed like that, Peter's fingers softly stroking Derek's hair until it lulled Derek to sleep. Peter's eyes drifted closed sometime before the end credits rolled, heavy under the soothing sound of Derek's soft, rhythmic breaths.
Hours later, Cora and Stiles came back and found them, one of Peter's hands resting in Derek's hair and the other one clutched tightly to Derek's chest.
Stiles put the pictures on facebook.