After the first movie, a second one didn't seem such a stretch to watch as well. Netflix just moved onto the next one. Stiles slid progressively further down the bed, slouching more and more, his legs splaying out. He had only gotten 4 hours sleep last night, after the Summoning. Add that to the burst of Power and the pain he had gone through earlier for his tattoo, no wonder he was wiped out. Peter was still in the same position, body posture practically perfect. He didn't know how to feel about this. From the stories he had been told, most of the Summoned demons were put to work right away; vengeance, pettiness, anger. It was never… quietly watching a movie, in a bed that smelt of warm sleep, in a room that had memories and a house that had settled around a broken family. He could hear the steady heartbeat of Stiles' father in the other room. There was a block around him, a force, that made Peter keep a mental step back, even as he searched around the rest of the home with his senses. There was something else above them, but it was a small niggle. Nothing to be concerned about right now. He glanced at Stiles, unsettled but not surprised seeing the Sparkling asleep next to him. The amount of power he had used today, even though it's part of him, was immense. Especially for such a newly awakened Spark, and even more so that he did it with zero training.

He couldn't seem to look away from the young looking face, so open in sleep. He took him at his word that he could not be harmed. He made sure he couldn't harm his father, and took little regard for his own life. He was either extremely stupid or… trusted Peter not to hurt him.

What an odd creature you are, Peter couldn't help but muse, his eyes tracing the moles on the man-child's face. The movie was left forgotten in the background.

Peter didn't need to sleep. But. He was feeling warm and content. The protectiveness that Stiles had shown to his father… It wasn't anything he'd seen in his realm. It was refreshing, to see such unforgiving loyalty. And he was bound to this man-child, who was capable of such loyalty.

Keeping an eye on Stiles so he didn't suddenly wake up, he decided to take a risk and slowly moved down the bed till he was lying on the pillow as well, the sun from the window warming his back. Taking one more deep breath of warmsleepStiles, he let himself drift off into a peaceful sleep.

It was much more comfortable than the floor at least.

Stiles ungracefully fell out his bed. Jolted out of sleep, he tried to figure out what caused him to fall and heard his dad knocking on his door again.

He almost yelled for him to come in when he saw the runes still on the floor and the sleep rumpled -did he sleep next to me what why would he do that did he just let me sleep why did he sleep with me this is so odd okay focus on dad- demon in his bed.

"U-uh, I'll be downstairs in just a second dad!" he yelled, panicked.

He could hear his father sigh and turn away, too used to his son's odd behaviour. They made a deal, if Stiles kept his grades up and didn't do (or get caught doing) anything illegal, he would just deal with his weird son.

Stiles turned back to bed-headed Peter and promptly got distracted at how his Henley had ridden up his stomach and his hair was all squished to one side of his head. A surprisingly soft expression was on his face and Stiles couldn't help but stare. The softness left his expression after a moment, quickly turning to a leer.

"You look sexy just woken up, hair all tousled," he lets his eyes wander, watching the blush redden Stiles' cheeks. A cruel smirk cut his mouth. "Not to mention the drool on your chin."

Stiles squawked, hands flailing and scrubbing the dried drool off. He glared at Peter as he scrambled up right, tugging at his hair to make it semi normal. It still felt a bit alien on his head. He was so used a buzz cut, something he'd had ever since his mother had gotten sick and back then it was… too dangerous to have long hair. He used to have it long, when he was really young. His mother's hands were always in it when he was growing up;brushing it into odd hairstyles for fun, combing it to make it look like he hadn't stuck a fork in a socket, petting it to soothe her hyperactive child. Those hands hadn't been so gentle once she'd gotten sick. It was Alice who had finally asked him if he wanted to start growing it out, hesitating in the kitchen, hair clippers in hand and towel round his shoulders already. He had felt like it was time, but it still felt weird sometimes. Like a ghost should be running their fingers through it.

He blinked away the memory, pushing it back as he focused on the problem of "why the crap is there another boy in your room."

His mind flicked through ideas -study buddy no they wouldn't be able to stay sleep over no my only friend was Scott ow bad thought okay next maybe runaway- his mind stuttered as he got stuck on "Peter Hale runaway". California. Almost 18. Internet correspondence. Used police resources to check up on "Peter" found that he was not from a happy home. Mildly illegal shit. Peter's here. Birthday in a week. Just let him stay and then it's not illegal anymore.

Plan hatched, he turned to Peter, who was still lounging on his bed and staring at Stiles like he was an interesting bug.

Clapping his hands, he said brusquely "Right. Out the window."

"What."

Flailing his hands at Peter, shooing him off the bed, he corralled Peter to the window. Talking fast, he gave Peter the bare minimum of the plan. "Dad's a cop, the sheriff. Need a reason for you. One he won't look into too hard. You're a runaway. California. Bad home. Now, out you go." He opened the window and gestured out of it. "Knock on the front door and try to look like shit." He looked up and down. "Not that you need to tr-."

"Don't say it." Peter snapped, holding up his hand. "This is ridiculous. You know that, right?" Despite his words, he was already sliding his leg out the window.

"If it wasn't, my dad wouldn't believe that I did it," Stiles muttered, keeping an eye out on the neighbours. It did have the unfortunate effect of making Stiles stand right behind Peter. He could feel Peter moving in front of him.

The drop wasn't huge, but it was a daunting second story fall even for Stiles, who had done it multiple times when sneaking out. To Peter, it was a small hop. He gracefully fell through the air, landing on his feet with zero problem, hair slightly wind tousled, the mid-afternoon sun making the brown hair look golden at certain angles. Glancing up, he caught Stiles' eyes. The Sparkling's eyes narrowed and he mouthed "Show off" before ducking back inside and closing the window.

Peter snickered under his breath and made his way around the house. He listened to the inside and heard the father downstairs watching a baseball game. He listened to Stiles rummaging in his room and typing at his laptop. The muttered words "fucking paper trail" and "stupid fucking system" led him to believe he was creating his backstory.

He shook his head as he stepped up to the front door, feeling his Power curl around him as he made some changes to his appearance. Clever, clever Spark. What will you become when you're all trained?

Peter couldn't wait to find out. He had time though. He was chained for life after all, and it wasn't boring yet.

Stiles heard the knocking and was already halfway down the stairs by the time his dad had gotten up off the couch. Noah sent his son a confused look before going to the door. They weren't expecting visitors this afternoon. And then he was sending the ragged, tired looked young man on his doorstep an even more confused look. His cop instincts kicked in as he took in the exhausted hypervigilance in the man's posture and the defeated expression on the man's face. Glancing around to make sure there was no threat immediately behind him, his hand automatically wandered to where his gun would be if he was still in uniform.

Suddenly appearing behind his shoulder, Stiles looked vaguely panicked. It wasn't all faked, the paper trail was a quick and rushed thing and he needed to pad it out more before his dad dug deeper than he would tonight and it was also the first time he had let the demon out of his sight and he had an irrational fear he would just disappear. As soon as he caught sight of Peter, who had apparently made his clothes look dirty and well worn and himself look a bit thinner and paler, he deflated and pushed past his dad to pull him in a hug. The shock on Peter's face was not at all faked. It was the first contact between the two of them other than the Magik that linked them and being wrapped into a warm and tight hug was not what he expected.

Stiles took a deep breath and forced a shake into his voice. He had to get this right. "Peter, thank God, you made it." He pulled back and winked subtly at the dumbfounded look on the demon's face. Putting a defiant expression on his own face, he turned to his father.

Quick eyes took in all the information at hand. After a moment, the Sheriff just sighed and stepped to the side to let both of the boys inside. Locking the door behind them, he jerked his head to the lounge and led both of them in. Stiles let go of Peter, but kept closer than was normally polite. He had to play the part of a protective friend.

As soon as they had both passed the lounge threshold, Noah turned and pinned his gaze on Stiles. "Explain."

Stiles set his jaw, looking stubborn, and put himself partially in front of Peter. Said demon, the King of Hell in fact, found this rather hilarious, but managed to keep a downtrodden face. He was a master manipulator after all. You had to be to control the masses down under.

"He's staying." Stiles stated.

Noah sighed and rubbed his forehead. He knew that expression, he'd seen it in his wife whenever she was about to get her way. "Right. Fine. Why?"

Stiles glanced at Peter as if asking his permission. Peter responded by lowering his gaze and hunching his shoulder as if ashamed. In the back of his mind, Stiles made a note that the King of Hell was a damn good actor. Stiles turned and stared resolutely back at his father. "He comes from a bad home." He felt his face twitch as he thought of his mother, not faked at all. Setting his jaw again,"I couldn't have him stay if I could get him out."

Stiles saw the shadow of Claudia cross his father's eyes and looked down himself as he remembered as well. Stiles swallowed down the guilt of using his father's shame of his wife's actions against their son when she was sick. He needed to keep Peter close. The safest place was here, in the house. If he let him loose, he couldn't be sure he wouldn't do something evil if left to his own devices. He wasn't about to make more work for this dad, he barely relaxed as it was.

Noah sighed again, running a hand down his face before planting them on his hips. "I'm assuming this is the illegal thing that I do not know about."

Technically not lying, Stiles nodded. Some of the sites Stiles had had to get into were illegal and some of the ingredients for the Summoning chalk were very illegal to obtain as an underage minor.

"Can it be traced to you?"

Technically not lying again, Stiles shook his head. All the magic stuff was in a lock-box under his bed, the circle was wiped away, and all the stuff had been bought through a third person who owed him a favor for getting him out of a murder charge. And most people wouldn't be able to tell his research from his mother's. Poor handwriting was hereditary, apparently.

"How bad a home was it? Should I expect anybody… coming after him?" Noah said, not unkindly.

Peter lifted his head, still looking like the abused young man he was playing. In a quiet, timid voice, he said "It was Hell, sir."

Stiles pursed his lips together, digging his nails into his hands sharply as he tried so hard not to laugh at the terrible pun. Not a laughing matter! He thought furiously. He hoped the twisting of his face and clenching of his fists could be passed off as trying to contain his anger.

He coughed, drawing his dad's attention back him. "Look, he's traveled a really long way," Stiles said, still very definitely not lying to his dad. "Can I just put him up in my room and talk about this with you later?" Stiles glanced at Peter again, and went as if to reach out for him. Peter flicked his gaze up to Stiles, too fast for his father to see, read what he needed to do from his eyes and flinched away from his hand, curling into himself. Stiles twisted his mouth again, and stared at his father again. "I'll explain everything tonight. But I want to get Peter settled first."

Peter attempted to look even more pathetic and he saw the Goodness in Stiles' father win. With another bone weary sigh and a small nod, he moved out of the way and watched them go upstairs.

I need a beer, Noah thought, staring after his son. Or whiskey. He added, as he stared at the defeated slope of this "Peter" person's shoulders as he followed Stiles.