Just a cozy little chapter until things pick up momentum again. :)

Chapter 32

Stiles was a nervous wreck by the time a knock sounded at the door. The security camera revealed the visitor to be Peter … and he was bearing gifts.

"I thought I'd buy you dinner first," the werewolf said and offered a large paper bag filled with fragrant Thai food from the best place in Beacon Hills. "May I come in?"

Brain stalling a little, Stiles mechanically stepped aside to allow Peter entry and then followed him to the kitchen. "Uh, you didn't have to bring dinner."

"But I wanted to, and you're a growing boy that my dear nephew regularly relieves of all edibles in the house." Peter easily found the plates and cutlery. "What're you in the mood for? Duck or chicken? There are also spring rolls; I know you like the large fried ones."

Stiles managed to choose the duck, the dark sauce of the dish fragrant and spicy with a tang of plum mixed in. There seemed to be an unusual abundance of all sorts of sauteed vegetables which was offset by only one carton of white rice. However, after a while of enjoying meals cooked by Peter, it barely seemed strange to Stiles to have comparatively few carbs to go with his protein and fat. In fact, he barely missed them anymore.

With two very generous helpings of food in hand, Peter directed Stiles to get their cutlery and drinks and then led the way to the living room.

"Uhm, we're not … going upstairs?" Stiles asked, confused. Normally the werewolves in his life preferred Stiles' territory in the house.

A slow smile curled around Peter's lips. "I think buying you dinner is enough for now, Stiles. Let's not give your old man a heart attack just yet."

Stiles flushed hotly. "That wasn't what I … you know what, never mind."

Peter chuckled. "Get in here, the food's getting cold."

They sat down on the sofa, flipped on the TV and chose a Supernatural rerun because Peter didn't have a chance to watch it yet and Stiles was eager to find out what, if anything, of the lore was legit.

"The depiction of werewolves is atrocious," Peter scoffed halfway in and pointed at the young, freshly turned woman on screen. "The losing time aspect is somewhat correct, granted, but that's only to be expected after being magically forced to change your species. A brain has to reconfigure first before being able to correctly access and interpret information."

"Would you rather have it be accurate?" Stiles asked skeptically, looking from the TV to Peter. "I thought that'd be a breach of the Statute of Secrecy."

"You like saying that, don't you?" Peter stole the end piece of the fried duck from Stiles' plate and ate it showing off far too many teeth. "But yes. The Statute of Secrecy. Our elected council would have to agree for someone to distribute information in such a manner to mundanes."

"Which reminds me that I really, really want your book about that." Having shed his bemusement, Stiles reached over and stole a forkful of chicken and pineapple from Peter's plate in retaliation. "Because, council ! How crazy is that?"

"It's nothing special if you've grown up with it," Peter said. He put his plate down and turned towards Stiles. "I'm working on digitizing my library and you're welcome to all of it."

The fork fell from Stiles' suddenly weak fingers. " All of it, all of it?"

"You're pack. There won't be secrets between us going forward, for better or worse."

Stiles stared at him. There was a pressure between them that was different from all the other times they'd been in close proximity. In response to his unflinching look, Peter's eyes bled red, only to flicker and change to a startling amber. Unlike the last time, Peter didn't flinch. He just stayed as he was, exuding a calm acceptance of the weird things going on inside of him.

"There you are," Stiles whispered, awed. He raised a hand to Peter's face but didn't touch. "I miss you, buddy, which is stupid because we've known each other for like an hour, tops."

"Some epic friendships have begun in far less time," Peter rumbled, eyes half-lidded. "He likes you. He's also … agitated."

"Something I did?" Stiles asked, letting the hand sink away again. He startled when Peter caught it and pressed it firmly against his stubbled cheek. At once, something like a warm frisson skittered over his skin. "I … whoa! Is that him?"

"He's missing you, too," Peter told him, his fingers a warm cage around Stiles' palm. "It's easier to stay away than have his attention divided, unfortunately, otherwise I'd be around more."

"I thought you were doing better?" Stiles asked, still mesmerized by Peter's light eyes.

"I am, and your wolf spark is very hard at work purging the last of the poison." Peter shifted very slightly in Stiles' palm, almost rubbing his cheek against the sensitive skin there. "It's still an ongoing process, though. Isaac almost has me convinced to try out one of your healing dice."

"If you take the mellow one, it probably won't kill you," Stiles murmured. After another moment of looking into Peter's eyes, he blurted out, "Do you guys give your wolves names?"

Surprised, Peter blinked, which caused the amber in his eyes to fade away again. "The born weres do not, not to my knowledge. I certainly didn't; there is just me. Do you want to name yours?"

"Is it mine?" Stiles asked, taking away his hand now and cradling it in his other one to keep the soothing warmth of the wolf in his palm.

"Sweetheart, it was always yours. I just bit the wrong boy in the woods." Peter's voice gained an edge. "You'll have him back as soon as I can give him up, you have my word. The idea of having a name … hmmm. It pleases him."

"Taking him will turn me, though, and I don't think I'm ready for that so soon," Stiles murmured, looking down at his clenching fingers.

"You had him with you without turning," Peter reminded him. "Maybe you can hold him with your mountain ash until you're ready. You'll find out whether it's a long term solution and if it turns out it isn't, we'll find another way to keep him close to you."

Stiles couldn't help the hot gratitude welling up in him. It was shocking to discover just how much that meant to him, and how much it had truly bothered him that Scott had been the one to be so blessed and not him, even if it would've been involuntary. Stiles just knew that he'd have made it work, for all of them. "Thank you."

Calmly, Peter took the nearly empty plate from Stiles' lap and set it down on the couch table. Then, he simply pulled the teen into a one-armed side-snuggle that was both weirdly innocent and exciting. Even through the man's shirt Stiles could feel the energy of his - his! - wolf spark, rolling through Peter like a happy puppy.

"You keep being so accommodating and you'll never get rid of me," Stiles murmured, relaxing almost against his will so deeply that everything went a little fuzzy around the edges.

Peter's voice was rumbly as he replied, "That's the plan, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere."

He proved it by providing a warm embrace and a sturdy shoulder to rest on until Stiles woke again in the early morning hours and reluctantly took himself off to bed so he wouldn't be completely useless in school the next day.

oOo

Breakfast with - and made by - Peter was so domestic that it was almost creepy. Stiles got to eat French toast, bacon, and half of a perfectly ripe, buttery avocado, seasoned only with a sprinkle of sea salt and a few drops of lemon.

"Are you buttering me up for something?" Stiles asked, inhaling the first of his three slices of toasts.

"Always," Peter smirked. He let a perfect omelet glide onto his own plate and returned the pan to the stove. "I'd like to borrow your healing die. I've got nothing to do today and since your father will return from the hospital and keep you busy, I thought I'd try it."

"Alright, but please don't overdo it. Isaac won't thank me if he has to scrub you down, too." Stiles grinned. "Man, he was so pissed at Derek."

"Speaking of healing, how are you doing? You don't smell like pain anymore and the bruise is almost completely gone," Peter noted.

Stiles sighed. "I know. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad that I can sleep without waking up every hour or so because I turned and put my weight on it like an idiot, but people are noticing." He shrugged. "Can't be helped, though, if I want to keep experimenting with the healing runes. Even the bleed-off from making the dice is obviously enough to affect me."

Peter's eyes were fixed on Stiles with naked fascination, his omelet forgotten. "I just realized that I never got around to tell you that I couldn't care less about having your injuries on display for the mundane law enforcement. If you can heal yourself, do it. Use makeup if you feel the need to sell the injury, but don't keep yourself back on my account."

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." Stiles bit his lip. "Uh, I wanted to ask, now that we know that this stuff is working … could I maybe help Erica? Just a little, so her seizures won't be so bad in the future, if she got them at all?"

"You gave her the bracelet before discovering healing magic," Peter said, thoughtful. "I don't have anything against it per se, but an obviously magical die might be a bit much for a human. Tweaking her bracelet might be safer for the time being."

"Yeah, true. If I can get my hands on it for a couple of minutes I definitely will," Stiles replied. "She could even be still attached to it, though that might be difficult with Boyd standing guard over her like he does. I'd just like a contingency plan."

"Your concern for your friends is to your credit," Peter said, finally remembering his food and taking a bite. "Would you be averse to do the same to our bracelets?"

"Of course not," Stiles said quickly. "She's just more vulnerable than even you." He looked at his watch. "I could do yours right now, I still have fifteen minutes before I have to leave."

"I'd rather you ate your breakfast without resorting to gobbling," Peter replied mildly. "I'll have your die until it's more convenient and if your father is interested in using it as well, I'll have Isaac bring it back at once."

"Nah, keep it. I'll make more during the next couple days. Ward chips, too, you'll need those to keep the healing energy from vanishing into the ether."

"Isaac referred to it as a med pack," Peter mused. "It's oddly fitting."

"I'll find a green little pouch for it," Stiles said around the avocado-and-bacon goodness in his mouth, grinning.

They finished breakfast and Stiles ran back up to his room to get the die and the wooden ward chips. Lacking a pouch, Stiles stuffed the items into a sock and tied it with a piece of leftover hemp string from a failed bracelet experiment.

"Have a good day at school," Peter said at the door. He caught Stiles in a hug and rubbed his cheek against the teen's. "Remember to stay away from Allison Argent. Mr. Whittemore informed school security of her stalking, they'll have an eye on her now. It might backfire if you don't protest her presence, so don't hesitate to throw her under the bus."

"Oh, good to know." Stiles clumsily returned the cheek rub, inwardly wiggling happily at the notion to warrant a proper werewolf sendoff like Isaac always got. "Thanks for breakfast, and dinner last night, and … you know. The cuddle therapy was pretty great, too."

Peter smiled smugly. "It was. Now off with you, or you're going to be late."

"Crap." Stiles nearly fell out the door. In all the hurry he forgot to be embarrassed about being so close to a guy almost double his age, and enjoying it a little too much for his peace of mind.

oOo

During lunch it had been impossible for Stiles to manoeuver himself into a situation where holding Erica's hand with the bracelet around the wrist for any length of time seemed like a natural thing to do, but the same wasn't true at home.

The sheriff had been dropped off by a deputy in the afternoon, amidst many declarations of relief at finally being allowed to sleep in his own bed and get rid of the pain meds - Stiles knew because they all snitched on his dad - but the truth was somewhat different.

It only took a minute for Stiles to suss out that his father's ribs were still smarting uncomfortably after a couple of hours of roaming around the house, and that the man resented feeling dependent on anyone, but especially his own child.

"You're already doing enough around the house," the sheriff grumped as Stiles helped him ease down into his armchair. "I can't ask you to also be my doctor, kid."

"You didn't protest at the hospital," Stiles said, exasperated. "Playing doctor for this really isn't a hardship. You have seen how quickly my fracture has healed, right? Look, it's just five minutes of reading in Latin, that's literally no effort on my part, and it'll work just as well here as it did there."

John's lips pressed together stubbornly. "You shouldn't even have to do that much. In fact, from now on I'll do a lot better and help around the house more."

"I'm not gonna talk you out of that," Stiles said bluntly, "but if you wanna do penance I'd prefer it if you were healed up for it. You're not gonna be much help like this, are you?"

His father stared at him. "Hell, kid, you're not pulling your punches."

"No, because I know you. It's not gonna get through if I do, and I don't have time for dancing around the issue," Stiles stated. "If you're worried about Dr. Lee and Dr. Smith, I'm pretty sure they're on our side. They won't ask too many questions and I think Peter's got plans for them to maybe get read in on the supernatural side of things so we'll have some allies at the hospital."

"I can't say I'm comfortable with his level of planning," the sheriff admitted, "but at the same time, I'm impressed. Reluctantly."

Stiles snorted. "You'll get used to it. So, can I do something about your ribs now, or what? I hate vacuuming and you bet that I'll let you do it as soon as you're good to go."

Still a little stunned, John nonetheless caught Stiles' face between his large hands and smiled his wry half-smile. "Alright. I'll also promise not to buy and hide any more junk food."

That took some of the wind out of Stiles' sails. "What, why?"

"Someone dropped off a couple of books at the hospital and since I didn't have much else to do …" Stiles' father shrugged. "Besides, Dr. Lee wasn't impressed with my bloodwork either, so why not try Peter's approach for a while. It's better than having to swallow pills, what with our intolerance to a lot of meds."

"You have a deal," Stiles said. He clasped his father's wrists and pushed as much of his will for a long and healthy life into the bracelet as he could. It was a little clumsy, but it still felt like it had worked, so he'd be content with that for now. "I'd say reading some healing spells now and dinner afterwards?"

"Oh yes. Peter started a stew before he left and I definitely want some of that!"

End of part 32