Food Court

A/N: Prompt from RoxasIsReal13

Summary: Why are all the Mom's at the Mall giving Stiles sympathetic looks?

CHAPTER BEGINS

"Okay, we're here," Stiles announced the obvious once he parked the car, or, well, van because that's what it was. A dark blue minivan, which Derek had bought so that Stiles could fit everyone in one car. It wasn't his baby, but Stiles could appreciate the van, especially when it had better gas mileage and no one complained about being cramped – well, almost no one, but Jackson and Erica apparently were as unable to not complain as Stiles was unable to not stop talking.

"Every stay with your partner," Stiles ordered, pleased he'd had the idea of putting the child-locks on before starting this adventure, stopping the chatting teenagers behind him from rushing out. "The Buddy-System is imperative."

"Yes, Mom," Erica snarked. "If we get lost, we'll go find an adult... Or, wait! We have these nifty devises called cellphones, maybe we'll use them!" Stiles blinked, turned, and stared at her.

"...You've been spending too much time with me," He announced, bemused. Then he paused. "Or maybe with Jackson," he amended, earning an annoyed "Hey!" from the very back. "Okay, everyone, you're free to go," he announced after climbing out of the car and opening the side doors. "And remember, we're meeting at the food court in three hours!" They lunged out, Lydia and Allison pausing in order to kiss him on the cheek before leaving together. Jackson and Danny were already halfway to the doors, which was pretty amazing since they'd been in the very back of the van. Isaac and Scott were trotting after them, side-by-side, and Boyd and Erica were mocking them behind their backs... Or, well, Erica was. Boyd was doing his usual stoic-and-silent thing. That left Stiles with Peter, because Derek was out doing... Derek-Things. What did he do when he wasn't with the Pack? Wallow in a pool of wolfy angst? Try to get drunk (which was nearly impossible, Stiles had found out. The Werewolf system burnt through the alcohol really fast. They'd have to drink enough to make a human die from alcohol poisoning to get more than a small buzz.)? Maybe he just walked around naked since he didn't have to worry about anyone walking in on him.

"Are we going to enter the building any time soon, Stiles?" Peter drawled from beside him, lifting an eyebrow. Stiles rolled his eyes slightly and nodded, leading the way towards the Mall. When they entered, Stiles was forced to trot after Peter as he freaking power walked towards the nearest mens' clothes store. The immediately set about browsing, and Stiles found himself standing a little awkwardly outside the door, waiting.

"What do you think," Peter asked, appearing in the doorway and holding a dark blue dress shirt and a pair of black slacks up, cocking an eyebrow. Stiles bit back a sigh, studied the clothes, then shrugged.

"If you get another trench coat or duster or whatever, it would look great," he told the former Alpha; a flash of some sort of emotion crossed Peter's face, before it disappeared behind the return of his 'you want some candy, little boy?' smile.

"Excellent," he announced, before going back inside. He returned not even two minutes later, holding up two different coats, one a dark black and leather, the other one clothe and a charcoal black. Stiles pointed at the charcoal one, , and Peter disappeared back inside.

He reappeared nearly fifteen minutes later, carrying a bag of his old clothes and wearing his new ones, a look on his face that Stiles could only describe as shy. Stiles smiles at him with as much approval as he can muster, and watches as the former relax, that look slipping away to be replaced by Peter's usual 'Like a Boss' kind of expression, the one that's smug and smirking slightly, and always ready to lift an eyebrow in sardonic mockery of whatever he deems needs it. It's a look that's habitual, and Stiles is the one who leads the way around next.

"Hey, Stiles!" Erica calls, her and Boyd popping up and giving him a freaking heart-attack. The blond holds up a pale blue blouse with slight ruffles down the middle, leading from the bottom up to the low-cut neck. "Would this make me look slutty?" She asked, and held it up to her front. Stiles blinked, looked it over, and pursed his lips.

"If you wear it with black jeans and that leather jacket of yours, I think you could pull of the 'bitch, please' look," he offered; he had to blink when the girl beamed at him, thanked him, and then dragged the silent Boyd back into the crowd, disappearing. Stiles looked up at Peter, then shrugged when all he got was that eyebrow-raise he mentioned earlier. Ten minutes later, Scott and Isaac show up, both holding shirts and asking for Stiles opinion. Scott had a dark green shirt with BITE ME written in large red letters, with a punk'd out looking smiley face that had arms, which were crossed as it smirked off the shirt. Stiles approved, and turned to Isaac, who was shyly holding out a blue-and-gray striped sweater. Stiles took it and pressed it against the other teen's chest, lips pursed.

"I like it," he told him. "It brings out your eyes, and will make your torso slimmer." He smiled at Isaac's shy look, and gave them both a hug before they left. Not five minutes later Allison and Lydia appeared, and dragged him (and, as a result, Peter) with them to the Pet Store to try to convince him that the Pack needed a mascot, and tried to bribe, threaten, and beg him to convince Derek to get them a puppy, specifically, a husky puppy that had pale blue eyes. Stiles thought it was cute, he'd admit, but put his foot down and told them no. The sulky glares he got from the two girls, didn't faze him at all, and he left them.

"Okay, that was seriously out of character," he muttered as he wandered aimlessly.

"They're menstruating," Peter told him from slightly behind and off to the right. Stiles flinched, stopped in place, and slowly turned to face the former Alpha with a look of horrified disgust on his face.

"I really don't want to know why you sound so sure about that, and, just for the record, ew! No talking about, about girl problems when they don't bring it up themselves! That is the new rule for this Buddy-System, okay?" Peter gave his usual Creeper Smile ™ and shrugged. Stiles gave a shudder and returned to walking around. He hadn't really needed anything, and he wasn't going to the Arcade with Pedowolf in tow, that was just begging for creepiness. Jackson and Danny interrupted his thoughts by showing up with two pairs of shoes each, showing them to him.

"I don't know which to get," Jackson muttered, scowling slightly; Stiles blinked and looked at the stylish, expensive sneakers, staring.

"Get both," he suggested. "Wear one pair for school, and the other for lacrosse." The jock pursed his lips and stared at the shoes, before nodding and giving Stiles his half-smirk, half-smile.

"Which is better for Training?" Danny demanded, looking a little frazzled; Stiles looked at the shoes again, peering at the brands, and pointed at the right pair.

"That brand tends to last longer, even if you use them a lot," Stiles told him; Danny nodded, flashed him a relieved grin, before dragging Jackson back to wherever they'd been, arguing about something Stiles didn't bother listening to. Making his way to the kitchen store, Stiles waved Peter away when the Wolf told him he'd be sitting on the bench outside, just telling the Wolf not to leave that bench or else Stiles wouldn't be able to find the rest of the Pack if there was an emergency.

Wandering around, he admired the newest equipment, and stood with a handful of women and two men to watch a video demonstration of a few of the latest tools. Someone tugged lightly on his sleeve, and he dragged his fascinated eyes away from the screen to find that Isaac was shuffling in place beside him.

"Erm, Stiles," Isaac said, and hesitantly held up a soft-looking red flannel shirt, freshly bought. "I got you this," the boy muttered, cheeks flushing and eyes lowered and away in submission. Stiles blinked, and then beamed at him, hugging the boy close and accepting the shirt.

"It's awesome, Isaac, thank you," he said warmly, making Isaac smile and snuggle against him. "Wear's Scott?" He asked, frowning slightly; Isaac pointed through the window, and Stiles saw Scott and Peter eying one another... Or, well, Scott eying Peter and Peter being, well, himself. He sighed and nudged the Wolf cuddling against him a bit. "You should probably go grab him and drag him somewhere... Far away from Allison. She'll convince him to buy her the puppy that she tried to get me to get her." Isaac nodded, kissed his cheek abruptly, and all but ran from the store. Stiles shook his head, amused, and turned to find himself being stared at by an old lady.

"Kids," he told her, beaming. "They're always so full of energy and spontaneity, aren't they?" She blinked, and then smiled, wrinkled face lighting up.

"My grandson is the same way," she told him, and Stiles nodded. "How many do you have?" She asked; Stiles blinked.

"Um, I sort of adopted eight teenagers, and recently took in a friends uncle who just got over a bad case" of insanity "of pneumonia. And, we're all basically living at that friends house. I make the food and do the laundry, and he pays the bills." The old woman nodded and another woman was looking at him with interest now.

"How old are you?" She asked; Stiles blinked.

"Never ask a lady her age," he told her primly, and grinned when she laughed. "I'm in high school," he told her.

"You're too young to be taking care of so many children," the old woman announced; Stiles shrugged.

"It's cool, they're awesome, so," he shrugged, draping his new flannel shirt over his shoulder.

"Stiles!" Erica called from the front of the store.

"Here!" He called back; the blond appeared with a slightly frustrated expression.

"I need help," she told him; he frowned worriedly at her. "Should I use Bloody Valentine or Passion?" She demanded, holding up the two tubes of lipstick. Stiles stared at her, and then sighed, holding out his hands. She dropped them into her palms as Boyd rose up behind her like some shadow, eyes broody as he watched Stiles. Stiles peered at the two sticks, before handing her Bloody Valentine.

"I was tempted to say this one just for the name's sake," he admitted. "But, honestly, the dark pinkish red will look better than the dark red, less slut and more... Chic badass, you know?" Erica grinned, happy, and immediately applied the lipstick.

"I bought both, just in case," she told him, and stepped out of the way so Boyd could hold up the two books and give Stiles a questioning look. Stiles took them and sped through the summaries, before handing the Wolf the supernatural horror.

"Plot's better," he informed Boyd, and tapped the other book with his free hand. "This one turns into a cliché romance you can see a mile away, and you'll get frustrated. Believe me, I can tell." Boyd grunted a stoic 'thank you' before taking back the other book and the two of them left. Stiles sighed and checked his watch.

"I better go," he told the two women he'd been talking to. "Peter's probably getting antsy by now."

"Is Peter your boyfriend?" The younger woman asked; Stiles choked, eyes going huge.

"No!" He yelped. "A whole world of no! He's my friends uncle and that would be... Ugh, I don't even have the words!" His face was on fire, he knew it, and the lady was grinning, amused.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry for suggesting it," she said, amused. Stiles shuddered and bid them both goodbye before making a tactical retreat. A fast tactical retreat, one that would put Wile E. Coyote to shame. He could probably catch the Roadrunner, he was moving so fast.

"We're going somewhere," he told Peter, grabbing the mans hand and dragging him away from the store. "Don't know where, don't care where, we're just going." Peter was silent but didn't resist his tugging, so Stiles kept going until they were practically on the other side of the Mall, and only then did he stop, panting slightly from the fast pace.

"Would it be so horrible?" Peter asked suddenly, voice more curious than anything else, head cocked to the side when Stiles looked up at him, confused.

"What?" Stiles asked him; Peter had his 'I'm Plotting' look of concentration on his face.

"Being my mate," the man said; Stiles blinked. "Or, as the woman said, my... boyfriend," he said, with a hint of disapproval and distaste in his voice. Stiles gawped at him.

"What?!" squawked, gobsmacked; Peter nodded, looking like he had just found the most interesting bug and was going to dissect it. He was practically radiating Creeper Vibes.

"I don't believe it would be so horrid," Peter mused, eying him thoughtfully. "You're smart, loyal, excellent maternal instincts. You'd care for any cubs we had very well, in fact, you already are. You have a sense of justice and a set of moral standards that I sometimes lack. You understand most of what being a Werewolf entails, can use our body language to calm and sooth. Yes," he said with a satisfied look. "You'd be a most satisfactory mate." Stiles felt a chill speed down his spine, goosebumps rising all along his arms as the hair on the back of his neck stood up.

"No," he said, voice a little strained but still managing to come out firmly. Peter cocked his head again. "There will be no mating. No boyfriends. Nothing like that between us, Peter Hale," he said, and that chill was replaced with a roll of anger in his gut, his eyes narrowing. "I will help you, feed you, care for you and offer comfort and advice, because you're Pack, but nothing else. I do not like you like that, I will not like you like that, and I swear to god that if you try to force the issue, there won't be enough body left to resurrect a second time." He glared up at the former Alpha heatedly, and Peter just stared back with that blank look that meant he didn't know whether to attack or retreat from the verbal assault. Finally he inclined his head slowly towards Stiles, and spread his arms slightly as if in supplication.

"I apologize," he said calmly. "I won't bring it up again." Stiles stared at him with hard eyes for a few minutes, before they softened and he bobbed his head in acceptance of the apology.

"Good," he said firmly, and mentally cursed his inability to stay that angry for long. Resentment, resentment he could do, but that sort of anger that builds up in your stomach and chest with that weird tingly feeling, and leaves you feeling drained and depressed? He couldn't do that. The closest he ever got was that ball that sat like lead in his stomach. A lead ball. A lead ball that felt like it was on fire. But that fire went out quick enough, and that lead ball dissolved, too.

"Let's go window shopping," he finally said, and turned to lead the way once more. Peter followed like an obedient puppy, occasionally remarking on something he saw or someone they passed once they were out of earshot. Over the next two hours, the rest of the Pack would randomly pop up and demand/ask/beg about something or another, and Stiles was beginning to get a headache. He'd noticed, during the time he was telling Lydia that the stuffed dog she bought instead of a real one was very nice, that he was getting strange looks. At first, they were just sympathetic looks from guys out shopping with their girlfriends, but then the women and men out with their kids were sending him sympathetic, knowing looks every time the same couple spotted him doing something for his needy Cubs. He'd smile and nod at them tiredly, before grabbing Peter by the wrist (something he found he became used to being able to do way too easily. Hello, Power Trip, when did you arrive?) and dragging him off somewhere... Well, not really dragging, more like, leading him. If Peter didn't want to move, he wouldn't, but Stiles got the feeling he was being indulged by the Zombie-Wolf.

Finally, though, they were all meeting at the food court, where they placed their orders (getting wide eyes from the employees for the sheer amount of food they were buying), and Stiles charged it to Derek's debit card, and then put a twenty-dollar bill in the tip jar in apology for making the workers scramble to fill their order. Stiles let the Pack's conversations soak through him, taking a deep breath before jumping in and providing a steady babble that earned him warm and fond smiles, relaxed shoulders, and a general atmosphere of contentment.

They ate their food, grabbed their bags, and left for the Hale House, where Stiles made Derek a few grilled cheese sandwiches and some tomato soup, sitting at the table with him while he ate, and laying his head on the table with a tired sigh, relaxing when Derek placed his large hand over the back of Stiles neck and rubbing it gently. Stiles never remembers falling asleep...

And he never remembered Derek carrying him upstairs and tucking him in on Derek's own bed, leaving him to rest, and ordering pizza for dinner. Still, when Stiles wakes up feeling much better and without the headache, he can't help but lean against Derek on the couch while munching on pizza and watching Thor with his Pack.

A/N: I thought Stiles could use a break from cooking for a bit. CREEPER PETER! O_O

R&R!