Stiles had never before been at Peter's apartment. Not once. That thought had crossed his mind before, but now, on his way home after a long day, it hit him like a hammer.
Everyone knew where he lived and he knew where everyone else lived. Everyone, but Peter.

He probably shouldn't read too much into that fact, but it nonetheless hurt to know Peter didn't trust him enough yet.
Maybe it was some kind of self preservation not to let him know where he lived. This way Stiles at least wasn't able to burn the house down.

Stiles tried to convince himself that it didn't matter. It was just natural for Peter to be cautious, even if they had been together for almost two months now.
Well, he wasn't even sure whether they were together. They had just met a few times but Stiles enjoyed Peter's company and he thought he had made that clear, wondering whether they could go out again after that first time.

At some point after their arguments had turned into banter, each one teasing the other, Peter had asked whether he wanted to drink a coffee with him. It was plain and innocent, just them going into a cafe they both liked.
They had talked, about school and the Pack, about movies and books, about anything and everything. They had also been able to sit in silence, looking out of the window they sat next to or watching the people in the little cafe.
It was not the tense silence from before, no, Stiles had felt calm and content. He hadn't felt the need to fidget, hadn't felt the urge to fill the silence between them and talk his head off.

It was a simple 'we should do this again' that he offered, when leaving. Stiles had felt Peter's eyes boring in his back then, but he hadn't turned around. Two days later they were eating ice cream, strolling around the city and taking a walk through a nearby park.
There weren't many people that Stiles could have serious discussions with, just to laugh the next moment about some snarky comment or an inside joke about their little world. It was nice to talk freely, not having to keep werewolves a secret in front of his father, not having to keep his snide remarks to him when planning with Scott, not having to try and impress Lydia.

He had learned some things about Peter, too, though, of course, the other one would not just open up. Stiles hadn't expected him to and he wasn't sure what he had expected at all.
Their hands had brushed, they had sat together, but it was Stiles who had snuggled up to Peter, so he would put an arm around him. It was Stiles who had first kissed Peter, a thank you after a great evening. In fact, most of the recent happenings had started with him.

Pulling over in the dark, Stiles grabbed his mobile and blindly started dialing the by now familiar number of Peter, trying to ignore the tears starting to form in his eyes and the trembling of his hands.
Before he could reconsider what he was doing, he had pressed the call button. He could only hear his rapidly drumming heartbeat, but far too soon his thoughts were interrupted when Peter answered, "Stiles?"

"Peter, we -", he started only to stop. Stiles didn't knew what he wanted to say. Hist mind was blank, his voice sounded too rough and he desperately tried to choke back his sobs.
"Is everything okay? Stiles, are you all right?" He shook his head, realizing too late Peter couldn't see it. The concern in his voice made his heart ache just that little bit more, longing for some reassurance.

"I need to talk to you", he managed to whisper at last.
"Where are you? Stiles?", the voice at the other end of the line paused, "Do you want me to come and get you?"
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Stiles again shook his head, "No, you ... don't need to do that."
"Okay. Then look into the glove compartment."

"What?"
"The glove compartment, Stiles. I know you have one and I can hear the engine of your jeep, so you should be able to -"
"Why?", Stiles interrupted. He certainly wasn't up for one of Peter's games right now.
"There's the key for my apartment."

Stiles couldn't breathe. For a brief moment he stared through the front window out into the dark night, motionless, before he began to giggle hysterically, "But I don't even know where you live!"
"I know, I'm sorry", Peter hesitated once more, "but there is a key tag with my address."

Stiles almost lost his mobile in his haste to get the keys, but as soon as he held them in his hands they felt like home, a heavy weight that he did not ever let go of during the drive to Peter's apartment.