Twenty minutes.

That's all the time Peter gets before his sister puts her damn foot down and demands he takes Stiles home, claiming the Sheriff won't wait forever and that the last thing they need is to get in trouble with the law enforcement. She's right, of course, but it doesn't mean Peter has to be happy about it, so he makes sure to growl lowly at her as he gathers his mate in his arms and takes him to the garage.

Once there, Peter eyes the keys hanging on the wall, desperately wishing he could drive his own car, yet reasoning with himself that Stiles should probably sit in one of those special seats for kids that Talia and Adam have in the backseat of their cars. He would survive the short drive. So, deciding to be responsible for once, Peter reaches for the SUV's keys, doing his best to stifle a sneer of disgust. Before he gets the chance to snag the goddamn key and be done with it, though, his mate calls for his attention.

"Wow, Peter, you have Batman's car!" He says, in awe, pointing at Peter's car while pulling on his sleeve. "Is it yours? It is, isn't it? That's so cool. Can we please go on that one? Please, please?" Stiles pouts, his golden eyes flickering between the car and Peter, and he's already leaning forward in Peter's arms, trying to direct them to where he wants to go.

After that, it's not even a debate anymore. With a swipe of hands, Peter grabs his fucking key and walks toward the black car, stopping in front of it when Stiles makes a move to caress the hood. "It's an F Type 400," Peter explains, an amused smile on his face. "A Jaguar. I don't believe Batman drives one, however."

"Nuh uh," Stiles shakes his head. "He does, too. This is just like Batmobile, I'm sure. I'm a huuuuge Batman's fan, Peter, I know."

"I see," Peter agrees easily, conceding the point. He opens the passenger's seat door and sits Stiles there, leaning closer to buckle him up. "Unfortunately, I'm not all that well informed about the DC universe. Guess you'll just have to teach me, hun?"

Stiles bobs his head up and down, excited at the idea. "Sure! You can come to my house, and we'll watch the movies together, and you'll read me the comics. I have, like, loads of 'em. My momma always buys me one when I behave, and she says I'm a good boy, so I get, like, this many comics every month," he explains, opening his arms in what Peter believes to be a theatrical exaggeration to show just how many comics he gets. "I have Batman sheets in my bed, too. You'll like them."

There's no possible way for Peter to explain how permanent of a visitor he'll be to Stiles' bedroom from now on, especially without the unknown variable of the kid's parents and how they'll deal with Peter's presence, so he settles for a grin and a nod. His mate doesn't look concerned by the lack of verbal response, as he carries on talking about his favorites superheroes, even as Peter closes the car door and walks over to the other side, sliding inside with ease.

The second he turns the engine on and the car purrs under his hands, a unique brand of satisfaction curls inside Peter's chest. He's a possessive man, and of all his possessions, his Jag was one of his favorites—sharing it with his mate only enhanced the experience.

He begins to drive out of the garage, and Stiles' words die in his lips. "Dude, you look badass driving it. My dad says I have to wait until I'm sixteen to drive, though, and it'll take me forever to turn sixteen." God, Peter sincerely hopes not. "It's so unfair."

"You wanna drive now?"

Stiles' eyes widen so big it's a wonder they don't pop right out of their sockets. "Dude, yes!"

Peter immediately stops the car and pats his lap. "Come here, then."

The words are not even done crossing his lips, and Stiles is already unbuckling himself and jumping back into Peter's lap, his small hands flying to the steering wheel. "My dad says we can't do this. It's dangerous," he whispers, almost as though he's afraid Peter will change his mind if the words are loud enough. Still, in contradiction with his own words, Stiles presses back against Peter's chest and grips the wheel even tighter, clearly ready to fight for his right to stay where he is.

Luckily for him, Peter is riding high on Stiles' scent of excitement and happiness. "I'm not your father," he says with a mischievous grin, whispering the words in Stiles' ear, "and I like danger." Peter nibbles the shell of that ear. "Let's go, little driver."

He steps on the accelerator and begins once more the drive to the Sheriff's house, with Stiles sitting on his lap, one hand controlling the wheel and the other rubbing his mate's back, trying to get as much of his scent into him as possible. It isn't difficult for him to drive with someone in between him and the car—Stiles has absolutely no strength to speak of, so with only one hand he can pretty much drive normally.

To be honest, his mate's presence makes being in the city he hates damn near bearable, which probably translates into him behaving like a more pacific driver instead of a lunatic with nothing to lose. The county of Beacon Hills should be forever indebted to Stiles.

"This is the best day of my life," Stiles declares, tilting his head back to look at Peter upside down. "I can't wait 'till I tell Scott that I drove a Batmobile. He'll be so jealous!"

Peter bites the tip of his button nose. "I heard that making other people jealous is not polite behavior."

Stiles giggles and nods. "My dad says I'm not a well-behaved kid, anyway. I'm a troublemaker."

"Troublemaker? Is that so? Why am I not surprised?" Peter asks, fondly, just as he's about to turn a corner, and suddenly Stiles' head snap to the side, his smile vanishing from his face. It's absolutely not Peter's fault when his voice is sharp when he demands, "what?"

Stiles points to the house with one chubby finger. "I know who lives here. He goes to my school. His name is Jackson. Jackson Whittemore. He doesn't like me a whole lot."

Without missing a beat, Peter offers, "Would you like me to kill him?" And it's a serious offer, too, although Peter's not usually in the business of murdering kids—he would make an exception this time, for a kid who made his mate feel bad.

He winces as soon as the words leave his mouth, however. He knows humans don't understand the concept of mates and bonds in the same way as supernatural creatures do, and so, offering to kill another human because they upset your other half was, at the very least, very frowned upon. Maybe his suggestion would freak his young mate out, or make him afraid of Peter—which was the last thing he wanted. If he had to convince Stiles to like him, it would only complicate his life.

To his complete surprise, Stiles shrugs, his face turned back to the road, so Peter couldn't see his expression. "Nah. Lydia shared her juice with him the other day, and she lets him sit at her desk, so I'm pretty sure she likes him. And Lydia is very pretty, you know? Like, a princess. She wears pigtails and dresses, and it's amazing. I don't want her to be sad."

Great, now Peter is jealous of a little girl. Awesome.

"Hun. I see."

"Scott dad's a real jerk, though," Stiles adds, taking one hand off the steering wheel to settle it on Peter's thigh. "If I get to, you know, choose."

And Peter laughs. He laughs because he finally—fucking finally—met his mate, and honestly, Stiles is perfect.

Just perfect.

Author's Note: Apparently, people like this? Like, a whole lot. I cannot thank you all enough for the amazing comments you've left on the first chapter — which was originally a one-shot, I guess, but not so much anymore.

So, by popular demand, I've written another chapter to Peter and child!Stiles story. I love them and it was too much fun to pass. I'm still not sure about making this a multi-chapter story, maybe I'll just leave it here, but make sure to tell me what you guys think, alright?

I love you all. Xoxo.