Stiles paced around his room, pacing in circles round and round and then round again as his mind spun. He was exhausted and he was feeling as though he had gone 100 rounds with Mike Tyson, his brain was both running at a million miles an hour and had blue screened, and he was desperately trying to yank together the threads of his thoughts to be able to sort through the events of what had happened.
Stopping his pacing he ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it to try and centre his thoughts, looking at the board in front of him he took a breath and removed his fingers from his hair, his arms dropping heavily down to his sides and he stood there, for how long he didn't know, blinking at the layout of information in front of him.
The layout of information that he had put together over the course of the last few months as he tried to work out the mayhem, madness and murder that had been happening in Beacon Hills this time. Taking a deep breath he closed his eyes and clenched his hands tightly, his fingernails biting into the palms of his hands and his brain finally slowed down enough for him to think, and the pieces finally started falling together.
He reached out and started ripping pieces of the board in front of him down, throwing them uncaringly at his feet until he was left with only the few things that he needed on the board, the few things that were now relevant. He grabbed a board pen and scribbled out the thoughts and niggles that had been bothering him the whole time, scribbling away, writing down dates and moments throughout the last few months, looking at them in different ways now, looking at them in one specific way.
It was staring at him, in plain red board pen.
He sucked in a deep breath and looked around himself considering what he was going to do now, his mind spinning and tripping over itself again. He was on a time limit, he was running on limited time now and he had very few options, and no one else would help him.
But when it came down to it as he stood in his silent bedroom, in his silent, empty house, turning to look at his blank phone, it wasn't really an option.
Peter pressed his head hard against the wall of the van, trying to get the slight pain from it, the rumble from the van, the bumps of the road, to clear his head, to try and fight through the muzziness of the wolfsbane in his system. He breathed out through his nose as he tried to concentrate on what was happening, but he had been pumped with enough wolfsbane that his mind was just a jumbled fog.
Wooden handcuffs were on his wrist, it would have been thought that they were flimsy, but they were made of rowan and mixed with what he was fairly sure was mistletoe, designed for werewolves, designed for werewolf prisoners in the same way that his jailors/delivery drivers carried syringes of wolfsbane that they had been very liberal with in sedating him.
His senses were dulled, his hearing muffled, his nose barely able to smell the scent of the van never mind everything that he could normally smell.
He was tired, he was frustrated and he was fed up. He was fed up with being the bad guy, he was fed up with everything that he did being looked down on, he was fed up with those that he tried to help always looking for the selfishness in his actions. He was fed up with being misunderstood, he was manipulative, yes, but since he was a teenager he had constantly been treated with suspicion, his actions always be taken as the worst possible option. It was something that he could not seem to break out of.
He thought that he had one person in his life that understood him, he thought that he understood him, and he had thought that…he had thought that they understood each other. But it seemed that he was wrong.
He sighed and dropped his head forward, he had thought that they had more than understanding between them, but apparently, they didn't even have that. Once again he was the bad guy of this episode, and as he had thought was going to happen, he was the bad guy of this episode, and he was being punished for it.
He was on his way to the Supernatural wing of Eichan House. He was going to be kept there for the rest of his life. There wasn't a court for supernaturals, the law was taken into the hands of the individuals of the area.
Scott was the alpha of this territory, unfortunately, and Scott, and his little Pack, had decided that Peter was the bad guy and that he should be locked away for everyone's safety, including his own daughter and…
He would spend the rest of his life drugged and feeling the effects of rowan, mountain ash and mistletoe, drugged and in constant pain. It was the reason that most packs would just kill those that they were kicking out the pack or punishing instead of sending them to the supernatural prisons out there.
He sucked in another breath, grimacing as the handcuffs rubbed against his skin, burning it, and he ignored the chuckles of his captors, sorry jailors, at the action.
He ignored them and just concentrated on mentally berating himself for trusting the idiots of that Pack and for thinking that he could trust them when they treated him like he was an animal on a leash, as likely to attack the enemy of the day as he was them. At least he was beating himself up until the transport van pulled to a stop.
They had not been travelling for long enough to have reached Eichan House, even in his drugged state he knew that, and the reaction of the two men seated opposite him told him that as well. They reached for the syringes and their tasers, looking around, their faces tense and concerned instead of smug.
Peter blinked, trying to shift the fog from his brain to hear or smell what was going on, but it was too heavy around him. He was left to wonder what was going on as much as his jailors were.
The shots being fired surprised him, he was able to hear enough that he could tell that there were two gun persons out there, he listened with drugged curiosity as the driver and the jailor up the front slumped back against the metal dividing wall between them and their cargo.
There was a few moments of silence where all that they could hear was each others' breaths, Peter's jailors coming a lot more panicked than his own, as his jailors looked frantically around as though they would be able to see through the metal of the van to see what was going on inside.
The sound of the loud whoosh was a little worrying, especially as it got closer to the driver's area of the van, but then part of the door just…disappeared for a moment, long enough for the arrow to fly through the gap and bury itself into the metal of the floor of the van. Peter recognised the arrow, familiar enough from working with the Argents to clamp his eyes shut as tightly as he could, throwing his bound arms up to cover them as well, even then he could see the flash of the light going off in the confined area of the van, the confused sounds coming from his jailors quickly switching to pained moans as they obviously didn't close their eyes in time.
Peter lowered his arms and kicked out at one of the jailors, using much of the energy that he had left to hit the man's kneecap in just the right place for the cap to let out a loud cracking noise and take the man down to the floor.
The second jailor cursed and reached blindly for his syringe at his belt and Peter tried to summon just a little more energy to fight him off, but before he had to do that the door to the van was being yanked open and the jailor let out a surprised noise as he was shot in the thigh with a dart, the second jailor stopped groaning in pain as the tranquillizer kicked in and he passed out onto the floor.
Peter rolled his head to the side and blinked as he took in Stiles standing in the doorway as he lowered the tranquillizer gun in his hand and turned to look at Peter. He was a little wide-eyed and panting as though he had run a marathon, but his face was set and he was looking determined as he looked at Peter, his amber eyes sure and firm as he started climbing into the van.
Peter didn't say anything as Stiles rifled through the jailors' pockets and quickly found the keys for Peter's handcuffs. He knelt down in front of Peter and unlocked the cuffs, throwing them with a scrunched up expression of disgust as far away from Peter as he could, his pale, long-fingered hands wrapped around Peter's wrists gently, just over the red welts on his wrist from his reaction to the cuffs, the skin on skin contact helping Peter immensely as their Pack bond flared and his wolf, confused and drugged though it was soaked up the feeling.
"Come on, we need to move," Stiles said softly, he let go of one of Peter's wrists but kept his grip on the other as he threw Peter's arm over his shoulders and started helping him to his feet. It was difficult with how drugged up and exhausted Peter was, but between them, they managed to make it to the doorway of the van, before he could stop himself though Peter felt his knees buckling and he started falling forward, worried that he was about to take Stiles with him. But then hands caught him and stopped him from falling out of the van, and he looked down into the eyes of Chris and Allison Argent.
He wished that he had the strength to speak, he wished that he had the strength to ask questions, but he couldn't even shrug off their hands from helping him as the three of them got him down safely from the van and started moving him towards the forest close by. Only a few feet into the forest, but well hidden was a car, an impressive four by four that could only belong to Argent.
"I owe you, more than I can give for what my family has done to yours, and there is nothing that I can do that can atone for that, not helping you now, or giving you this car to make sure you can get away safely. But I hope that it helps start cleaning your families blood from my families name," Chris said seeing the look on Peter's face as he looked at him.
Allison hurried ahead to open the car door and to avoid looking at Peter, and Stiles looked as though he didn't know whether he should say anything or not, but he squeezed Peter's wrist under his hand. Between him and Chris, they managed to get Peter into the car, though it was incredibly awkward to do considering Peter had run out of energy now and was practically limp between them.
They got Peter settled into the car comfortably, Stiles actually throwing a blanket over him which he was embarrassed about and ridiculously glad for as the wolfsbane made him feel as though he was in an ice bath. Stiles stepped back from the car and turned to look at the Argents.
"You know what you're going to do?" Chris asked.
"Yes, I have a plan," Stiles nodded.
"No surprise there," Allison smiled. "Be careful Stiles," she said before dodging forward and hugging him hard enough it looked like it hurt.
"You won't tell anyone?" Stiles asked cautiously after he and Allison parted.
"We swear," Chris nodded.
"Thank you," Stiles smiled at them before he turned and squeezed Peter's hand before closing the car door and hurrying around the car to the driver's side. Peter rolled his head to watch Stiles getting into the car with the last of his energy, watching the human scramble in and get settled into the driver's seat. As Stiles drove them off Peter caught the Argent's watching them from the corner of his eyes before he turned back to look at Stiles as they took off down the road and started making their way out of Beacon Hills. Once they hit the backroad that Stiles had been aiming for and they had a pretty straight run on the human reached out and slipped his hand into Peter's, the werewolf managing to summon enough energy to close his hand around the limb, his eyes falling shut only seconds after as though he had been waiting for this before he could allow himself to slip into the healing sleep that he needed.
"Peter, Peter," His name being called woke him from the deep sleep that he had fallen into, he opened his eyes slowly and still feeling exhausted pulled himself back to consciousness. His eyes settled onto Stiles who was still seated next to him in the car, though he realised belatedly that they had stopped, the car was off and Stiles was facing him with his hand still in Peter's even though going by how dark it was outside they had been driving for hours. Stiles looked exhausted and as though he was coming down from a major adrenaline high as he looked at Peter.
Realising that the werewolf was awake Stiles let go of his hand and shuffled out the car, stumbling around to get to the passenger side as though worried Peter would disappear if he left him for too long. Peter summoned his returning energy to shift himself as Stiles opened the door and started getting him out of the vehicle, using his energy to try and help Stiles move him, the human taking a good portion of his weight, but he was tired and they were stumbling as they made their way up the dirt pathway.
Peter couldn't summon the energy to look around them, to see where they were, all he could do was focus on shuffling up the dirt and snow-covered pathway, making it as much of the way as he could on his own steam so as not to put more work onto Stiles who was clearly running out of steam.
They made their way through a doorway that Stiles fumbled with briefly while trying to keep Peter propped against the wall before they were stumbling through the darkened room that seemed to be a living room, and through another room, before they passed through a doorway that led to the bedroom. Stiles breathed a sigh of relief before they stumbled that last few steps, tripping over each other as much as they walked before Stiles was able to drop Peter onto the bed. He did it as gently as he could, but it wasn't very gentle considering how exhausted the human was, even with the wolfsbane still clogging his system Peter's senses were coming back and he could smell the tiredness coming off of him.
Stiles leant on the bed next to Peter panting as the werewolf tried to catch his own breath. Finally, though Stiles straightened and started tugging off the top that Peter had been placed into, the white scrubs stinking of hospital and itching against his skin, and he didn't realise how much he needed it off until Stiles was wrestling it not very gently off of him, and then moved to his trousers.
"I don't have underwear on," Peter managed to warn.
"Do you want them off?" Stiles asked, looking relieved at hearing Peter's voice.
"Yes," Peter grimaced at the feeling of the uncomfortable material against his skin, and the thought of wearing the clothing that was meant for him to wear in Eichan House making his skin crawl.
"Ok then," Stiles gripped the waistband of the trousers and yanked them off. He ignored the blush on his face while Peter couldn't take his eyes off of it as he gathered up the clothing, and then to Peter's amusement walked over to the window, opened it enough to throw the clothing out with a disgusted expression of his own, before shutting the window again.
Chuckling lowly Peter managed to reach out and roll back the duvet on one side of the bed before he made it to his elbows and crawled up the bed enough to collapse mostly onto the pillow before he collapsed down panting and growling from the effort that just that had taken.
"How much fucking wolfsbane did they pump you with?" Stiles growled himself reaching out and throwing the duvet over Peter's chilled skin.
"Enough I think they were hoping I would die on the way there," Peter huffed. He watched through heavy eyes as Stiles emptied his pockets onto the bedside cabinet on the other side of the bed before with a moment's hesitation he stripped himself down to his Green Arrow boxers.
Despite the exhaustion going through him that wanted him to just close his eyes and sleep off the rest of the poison in his system, Peter couldn't take his eyes off of the moonlight pale skin dotted with moles like stars in the sky that were revealed to his eyes, lithe muscles and a defined body that had a growing blush spreading down from Stiles' cheeks to his chest as he was clearly aware of Peter's eyes on him. But he didn't hesitate to crawl into the bed, sliding under the covers and moving right to Peter's side, pressing their bodies together.
With the skin on skin contact with the one remaining Pack member he had left, he could feel his wolf perking up and it would mean that he would heal faster and push the poison out of his system faster. With the remainder of his strength before he lost consciousness and surrendered to a healing sleep that would take him away from the ache and pain going through his system, he managed to wrap his arms around Stiles, holding him firmly against his body.
"Thank you," He breathed into Stiles' hair, the scent of the human who did understand him, who did care for him, who had come for him, filled his senses as he slipped into sleep.
Peter came awake with a snarl, all his senses were back online and his wolf was roaring in his chest after everything that had happened to him in the last 48 hours. He gripped tightly into the person in his arms, rolling him underneath Peter's body to protect him as he searched for the enemy to them.
"Shhh Zombie Wolf, we're safe, I swear we're safe. It is just my friend, the person who is letting us stay here. They're just dropping food off for us," Stiles soothed him.
"We're leaving Stiles! Sorry, we tried to be quiet, we didn't want to disturb you. If you guys need anything else just give us a shout!" The voice called before Peter could hear them hurrying out the door, shutting and locking it behind them.
He didn't however allow Stiles out from under him until he could hear the car driving away, and was sure that they weren't coming back. Slowly he rolled off of Stiles, withdrawing his shift as he realised that they were safe and that it hasn't all been some cruel dream from his cell in Eichan House.
Stiles had come for him.
He turned his head and looked at Stiles from where he was lying on his stomach, the human was laying on his back and already looking at Peter, and a small smile on his face.
"Hey Zombie Wolf," Stiles said softly.
"Clever human," Peter rumbled throwing his arm back over Stiles' stomach and pulling the human closer to him again. "Where are we?"
"I called in a few favours, we're in the holiday home of a Pack about 400 miles away from Beacon Hills, they were happy to put us up in here while you healed," Stiles explained.
"Of course, you have someone that owes you this big of a favour," Peter chuckled, feeling relaxed and lazy as the adrenaline washed out of him and the realisation that he wasn't in pain and was feeling fully alert coming washing through his system.
"Not me, you," Stiles shook his head.
"Me?" Peter frowned.
"Kate and Gerard didn't just harm your family, they left a bloody trail wherever they went that wasn't too difficult to track down once you knew what to look for. I made note of them. I got in touch with this Pack and they offered their help right away knowing that you killed Kate and helped wipe out her little team when I got in touch with them and said that we needed help," Stiles explained shaking his head.
"Oh," Peter blinked at him. "The Argents that helped break me out?"
"I called them when I realised that I wouldn't be able to take out the transport van myself, a quick conversation with Chris pointing out how much the Argents owed you and they were willing to help and keep it quiet," Stiles smiled at him. "Now come on, let's get some food into you, I can't imagine what they were giving you was decent,"
"You're going to cook me breakfast?" Peter blinked.
"Don't get used to it, you have been through a lot so I will indulge you, besides I think it is more brunch than breakfast," Stiles huffed. He leant forward and rubbed his nose over Peter's cheek scenting him before he made wiggled his way out of Peter's hold, just laughing at the growl that he got, and hurried into what Peter presumed was the bathroom.
Peter rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, only closing his eyes when he heard Stiles coming out of the bathroom feining that he was napping, before opening them again as Stiles made his way into the kitchen.
He couldn't believe that he was here, that Stiles had come for him and rescued him, and not only that but he had reached out to people to ensure that they had somewhere to go so that Peter could heal, that amazing brain of his pulling together such a clever plan in such a short amount of time.
The only problem was that it made Peter even more unwilling to let go of Stiles at the end of this, and it made the thought of having to head out and figure out a new life for himself, and leave Stiles behind to go back to Beacon Hills and the shit show that it was, along with the Pack that he didn't trust the Pack there to look after the special human.
He wanted to snatch Stiles up and run as far and fast with him as he could, but he would never do that to Stiles. He would never take his choice away from him, even when he had been in the depths of his mad revenge he hadn't been willing to take Stiles' choice from him, knowing that one it wouldn't end well for him, and that it wasn't how he wanted the other in his life.
He wanted Stiles to choose him.
Maybe he could convince him, from a distance he could try and convince him to choose Peter, to come to wherever he ended up. He had plenty of money from the Hales, setting up a new life wouldn't be an issue, he could choose somewhere that he knew Stiles would enjoy, somewhere with city life but near nature, close to one of the colleges that Stiles was looking at attending.
He didn't want to let Stiles go back to Beacon Hills, and he was aware that his time was going to be short with him, after all, Peter was already nearly fully healed from his experience and Stiles couldn't be missing from Beacon Hills for long before the others would get suspicious that he was involved with Peter's escape.
He took a deep breath and rolled himself out of the bed, grimacing as his muscles gave a resounding ache showing that it was still healing from the wolfsbane, before he made his way into the bathroom. He scrubbed himself in the shower to get rid of the smell of hospital, drugs, wolfsbane and mistletoe from his skin.
When he came out of the bathroom he found some of his clothes sitting on the bed waiting for him, which he pulled on gratefully, rolling his shoulders as he felt a little more himself. The smell of their brunch filled what seemed to be a cabin, and Peter wandered out the bedroom and followed his nose to track down Stiles, looking around the log cabin with interest. It wasn't massive, but it was large enough for a little break away, or in this case, a temporary recoup spot before they went their separate ways.
Huffing at his dark thoughts Peter focussed on Stiles pottering around in the kitchen and chose to just make the most of the time he had, determined that he would convince Stiles in the next few years to choose him.
That being said he stepped up to the fancy coffee machine that was already humming away, their hosts were clearly quite comfortable and started brewing a coffee that he knew would knock Stiles' socks off, and if there was one definite way into the human's heart, it was with caffeine.
"Nearly ready," Stiles smiled flipping a pancake with ease.
"It smells good," Peter hummed.
"Thank you," There was that blush again, the blush that made Peter want to just bundle Stiles in the car and drive off with him. How long did it take for Stockhome Syndrome to kick in?
Stiles quickly plated up their food, chuckling when Peter's stomach let out a growl that would make any werewolf jealous.
"Well, this is a far better view than I was expecting to have today," Peter said as they settled down at the small round table that looked out over the snow-covered hillsides around them.
"It is stunning isn't it, I didn't really get to appreciate it last night," Stiles smiled.
"The other view isn't too bad either," Peter decided to start right away in his wooing of Stiles, more than pleased with the spluttering and blush that his words drew from the human when he turned to look at Peter confusedly and found there werewolf's blue eyes locked onto him. "This is perfect," Peter sighed happily as he tucked into his breakfast.
"Thank you," Stiles was squirming in his seat practically and so Peter decided to take pity on him and left him to eat his brunch in peace, concentrating on demolishing his plate. "Did they feed you at all in the two days that they had you? Where did they keep you?" Stiles huffed, unable to stay quiet for long.
"They kept me in Deaton's office, in one of his cages," Peter watched as fury washed through Stiles' amber eyes at his words, he could imagine that the air was crackling around Stiles with the amount of anger that was rolling off of him. "They weren't too bothered with feeding me properly," he shrugged.
"They…" Stiles turned away.
"I'm fine, thanks to you," Peter said softly, smiling when Stiles turned to glare at him.
"No thanks to them!" he spat.
"No, but you got me away. Nice trick with the door by the way,"
"I have been practising it for months, I thought being able to disappear a section of something would come in handy at some point," Stiles huffed, calming down to have the conversation but clearly not being happy with it, and looking mutinously at Peter knowing that he had done it on purpose.
"More than handy I would say, your magic is getting stronger," Peter hummed picking up his coffee cup and settling back into his seat, comfortably stretching his legs out under the table, happening to tangle their bare feet together still needing the contact with Pack, with Stiles to centre himself.
"I have been practising, the books that you gave me have helped, especially the one by that fifteenth-century witch, not having to do the meditation but being able to use thought and motion for concentration has been a big help to figure a work around," Stiles nodded.
"It was impressive to see," Peter nodded.
"It isn't that much," Stiles shook his head.
"It is considering you have only been practising for a year," Peter said firmly. It was ruined slightly when he yawned moments after, huffing at the tiredness he was feeling now that he had eaten.
"I still think it is vastly unfair that your system recognises caffeine as a drug and shoves it back out your system," Stiles snickered.
"Believe me, I agree," Peter sighed, stretching out his aching muscles.
"Come on, I want to just stew out, relax and watch some TV," Stiles stood and motioned to Peter to follow him, leading the willing werewolf through the cabin to the small cosy living room.
Peter wasn't above taking advantage of any situation, and as soon as Stiles had the TV turned on and had found the remote Peter shuffled him towards the sofa and pressed him down, quickly settled down right next to him.
There was a pause as Stiles didn't seem to know what to do with himself, but then he relaxed against Peter's side, actually curling into him as he turned the TV on and put a film on Netflix before he settled even more against Peter.
The werewolf took the offered comfort and wrapped his arm around Stiles' shoulders, getting comfy himself now that he knew Stiles wasn't going to protest the contact.
He felt himself starting to nod off halfway through the film, but he had barely been watching it anyway, more than content to sit on the sofa and absorb the warmth coming from Stiles and listened to his heartbeat next to him, an odd mixture of fluttering, hummingbird fast and steady.
Peter realised how exhausted Stiles had to be when he woke up a few hours later and found the human fast asleep next to him, resting his head on Peter's shoulder and breathing heavily. But then he had probably spent the two days that Peter had been kept locked up in that damned vet's office planning how to break Peter out, planning where they would go, getting the Argents on side, and the general anxiety of what he was doing. Then he had driven them here during their escape. It was no wonder he was so tired, and Peter was a little worried about him making his way back to Beacon Hills too soon, especially as he would be driving by himself.
Peter checked the time and realised that they had missed actual lunch and were nearly onto supper time. He carefully slid himself from under Stiles, placing the human down onto the sofa and throwing the blanket over the back of it over Stiles to keep him from getting too cold. He made his way quickly to the kitchen and checked out what they had in there before starting to throw together supper for the two of them, their hosts had been more than generous with the food, even taking into consideration that he was going to be healing.
He was just finishing up and plating their meal when he heard movement from in the living room, right before Stiles' heartbeat went through the roof.
"Peter?!" Stiles called just as Peter was taking the pan off the heat and started running through to the other room.
"Here, I'm here, Stiles," Peter hurried around the sofa, caught completely off guard when Stiles threw his arms around him and held onto him tightly.
He wished that he was a better man, but he wasn't, and he was going to take what Stiles was offering while offering comfort back to the other. He wrapped his arms around Stiles' lithe body, sliding his hands under Stiles' baggy shirt to smooth his hands over his back, hoping the skin on skin contact would help calm the too fast heartbeat of the other while enjoying the touch himself and remembering the moonlight pale skin that had been revealed to him the night before that lay under this shirt.
"Sorry, I woke and thought that…you weren't here," Stiles said into Peter's shoulder, holding onto him even tighter.
"I was making us supper," Peter soothed him, running one hand through his thick brown hair. "It's ok Stiles, you got me out,"
"I can't bear the thought of you in there, what they would have done to you, what it would have done to you," Stiles shook his head rubbing his face against Peter's shoulder in such an instinctual move of scenting despite not being a werewolf that Peter held him even closer.
"You got me out, that isn't something that you need to worry about, it is going to be ok," Peter shook his head. "Now, come on, I have supper ready, lets fill that stomach of yours,"
Peter had to let go of him before he did something foolish, stepping away from to too tempting warmth of the other's body, taking his hand instead because he wasn't quite ready to lose that contact, and leading him through to the kitchen.
"You cooked?" Stiles asked reaching up to tiredly rub his eyes, still waking up.
"Yes, I can cook you know," Peter snorted.
"I'm not really shocked, I am fairly sure that you know how to do pretty much anything well just so that you can be smug about it," Stiles snorted before letting out a loud squawk when Peter poked him in the side, right on his ticklish spot. "Not cool!" He protested clutching his side and dodging out of Peter's second jab.
"I'm perfectly cool thank you," Peter sniffed shoving him towards the table.
"You're mean then," Stiles pouted as he sat down.
"Aww thank you, you say the sweetest things to me," Peter preened ridiculously, but it was worth it to get the laugh that he did from Stiles.
"This looks really good," Stiles groaned as Peter placed the Carbonara down in front of him.
"Just something that I threw together," Peter shrugged nonchalantly.
"Prick," Stiles kicked him in the shin, but then he twined their feet together as they had at brunch and settled in for inhaling as much of his meal as fast as he could.
"You're going to choke," Peter shook his head as he watched in fascinated horror.
"Shud up, i've been too nervous to eat," Stiles huffed.
"I will take it as a compliment," Peter snorted.
"We should get the things in from the car," Stiles sighed after they had finished eating and both just sat talking about cooking of all things for a while, both of them pointedly ignoring Stiles' slight meltdown earlier. He stood and dropped his plate into the kitchen sink before starting to head out to the car. "I meant to say sooner, I managed to get your things, most of it I have had put into storage for you to get shipped out, but I shoved into the car what I thought you would want now and what was essential," Stiles said as they quickly yanked on their boots and coats and headed out to the car.
Peter was quiet as they made their way down to the car, not really wanting to think that they were emptying the car out so that Stiles would be able to drive it back to Beacon Hills without any trace of Peter in it. He was confused however when they reached the car and opened the boot with the number of things that were in there.
"Stiles I know that you think I am high maintenance," Peter started to say.
"Dude, I know you're high maintenance," Stiles snorted.
"But surely even you don't think that I count this much stuff as necessary," Peter carried on as though Stiles hadn't spoken motioning to the bags.
"Don't be rude, half of it is mine, are you expecting me to move with nothing?" Stiles huffed grabbing a couple of bags. "I know you think that I own very little compared to the freaking walk-in wardrobe you owed, which dude how many variations of henley can you find! But I have some things. Just for that you can carry most of the bags in," Stiles laughed, before pausing when he turned and didn't find the teasing expression that he was expecting on Peter's face, but an utterly confused one.
"Why is your stuff here as well?" Peter asked, completely ignoring the snow coming down around them and covering the bags in the car, focussing intently on the human standing in front of him.
"Because… I'm coming with you?" Stiles posed it like a question. "I thought…I mean…if you don't want me to then I get it, I can head back and…work it out…I just…oh god I'm such an idiot," A look of utter mortification crossed Stiles' face mixed with horror as he dropped the bag in his hands and stepped backwards.
It looked like he was getting ready to turn and run into the snow-covered forest surrounding them to try and escape from his perceived embarrassment, and Peter was most definitely not going to have that, especially not when it was a misunderstanding.
With a burst of speed, he reached out and gripped Stiles' wrist, tugging the human firmly against his own body and wrapped his arms around him as though he could bind him to him, and then claimed those lips that he had been longing for, for far too long.
Stiles made a startled noise against him and moved as though he wasn't sure whether to pull Peter closer or push him away, thankfully his brain caught back up with everything and he closed his hands into fists into the material of Peter's henley and pressed into the kiss, giving back as good as he got, groaning and making sounds that Peter swore should be illegal as he pushed his arms loose from where they were slightly trapped between them and threw them around Peter's neck, holding him even closer as he kissed him, opening his mouth to allow Peter in to taste him, a low growl forming in his chest as the werewolf gripped Stiles to him, his hands wandering down so that he could grip the backs of Stiles' thighs and lifted the human into his arms.
He reached out blindly to close the boot before turning all of his attention to the human in his arms. Those years of sexual tension and desire between the two of them finally being broken. It was on pure memory that he made his way back up to the cabin, stumbling through the front door, completely unwilling to separate from Stiles' lips to look around them.
Thankfully it was his arms around Stiles that took the couple of bumps into walls that they had, but for the most part, they made it to the bedroom safely, and then Peter was stripping their clothes off desperately.
"Peter," Stiles huffed.
"I'll pay to replace them," Peter grumbled back as he stripped the shredded jeans from Stiles' legs and withdrew his claws so that he could finally cup the bare flesh of Stiles' arse cheeks, growling lowly in his chest.
"Peter," Whined this time, writhing against Peter's solid body as his erection pressed between their stomachs, the feeling of Peter's hard and weeping erection pressing against his arse cheek having his heart doing skips in his chest as arousal burned deep in his stomach.
Their kisses became dirtier and more desperate until Peter tipped them onto the bed, laying himself over Stiles' perfect body and pressed him into the mattress as his moved his lips across Stiles' chin, snarling when the human willingly tipped his head back to reveal his exposed throat to the predator leaning over him. Peter mauled his neck, ensuring that there would be visible marks all over it for weeks after this and if he had his way he would make sure that Stiles was always marked up.
With that thought in mind, Peter slid down Stiles' body, drinking in all of the sounds and noises that were coming out of the human under him, and sunk his teeth into that beautiful pale skin right over Stiles' heart, not caring that he was putting everything on the table right there with that move.
"Peter!" Stiles wailed arching into Peter as he wrapped his arms around the werewolf's head, pulling him even closer as though trying to get his teeth deeper, trying to get his mark deeper.
"Stiles!" Peter snarled and was delighted when the scent of Stiles' arousal flooded the room even more with the action. He thrust himself against Stiles, his mouth already watering at the thought of being buried inside the tight, hot heat of the other, knowing that he was going to be the first, and determined that he would be the only.
That thought had him pulling up short, however, releasing the flesh from his teeth.
"Peter?" Stiles complained confused by the action.
"We don't have any lube, for your first time spit won't do," Peter groaned.
"I…" Stiles blushed bright red, but he reached out and wrapped his hand around the base of three of Peter's fingers and drew his hand down, Peter laughing incredulously when he found his fingers coated in lube. "One of the people I have been talking to sent me a book of sex magic," THe human was a delightful red again when Peter looked at him questioningly.
"Of course, you managed to find sex magic, and have practised it,"
"I imagined you, I practised it hoping that it would be you I would get to use it with, imagining what you would do to me and…oh!" Stiles whined, arching his back when Peter's finger slid inside of him, thrusting right away and igniting his body even more.
He had to shiver when a second finger was slipped into him and started scissoring him open as his other hand swept down Stiles' chest, his claws leaving the smallest of marks on his pale skin, the control and focus that Peter had over his wolf turning Stiles on even more. He groaned embarrassingly loudly when Peter added another finger inside of him and started thrusting them into him, opening him up and lighting him even further on fire as he worked Stiles' body, playing with it and pressing him closer and closer to an edge.
"Peter, Peter…I'm going to…Peter," Stiles panted as he felt himself getting closer and closer to the edge, both wanting to fall over it, and not wanting to until Peter was inside of him. He wailed, feeling as though he was coming as his arousal flared even higher, but being pulled back from the edge with the pain that came from Peter sinking his teeth into the junction of where his thigh met his groin, and it was definitely wolf teeth that he sank into Stiles.
"Sorry, sorry, I couldn't help myself," Peter panted apologetically against the broken skin, lapping at the area to try and soothe it. Stiles gripped his hair tightly and tugged him up his body, attaching their lips back together, shuddering when he tasted his blood on Peter's mouth.
"I liked it," Stiles managed to say between kisses, and Peter couldn't doubt him when he ran his tongue hungrily over Peter's still slightly sharp teeth before reaching down and stroking over Peter's erection coating it with more lube.
"Remind me to send a gift basket to the friend that you that book," Peter muttered as he thrust into Stiles' grip. He linked their fingers together ignoring the slickness on Stiles' hand and pressed them into the bed as he moved between Stiles' legs and lined his heavy erection up with his erection, the head kissing Stiles' entrance teasingly before he slid into his body, slowly and teasingly, his blue eyes locked with Stiles' amber ones, watching as they flared with pleasure and an awed expression as Stiles soaked up the feeling of Peter pressing inside of him, slowly filling him so that he was able to feel every bump and inch of the werewolf filling him into they was pressed tightly together.
"So hot, so tight, so perfect," Peter grumbled out against one of the marks on Stiles' throat, lapping and mouthing at it to deepen it at he started small little thrusts into Stiles' body, more thrusting himself deeper into the other than moving, and listened hungrily to the punched out noises Stiles made, his fingers biting into the werewolf's back as he picked up the rhythm and started rocking into Peter's body. Finally, Peter drew all the way back and thrust into Stiles' body, listening to the sounds of their bodies joining as he thrust into Stiles in a frantic rhythm, all thought of control gone out of his head as he just lost himself in the pleasure of Stiles' body, his focus only on giving Stiles the most pleasure that he could, making it as good for him as he could, and taking his own pleasure as he lost himself.
He would remember the sounds Stiles made for the rest of his life, he would remember the expression on his face as he spilt over the edge and came purely from Peter's cock inside of him, pleasuring him, he would remember how he looked with his pale skin flushed red with pleasure in the soft white light of the moonlit, snow-covered night coming through the bedroom window. And it was with that image burned into his mind that pushed him over the edge, spilling inside of Stiles was a low roar of pleasure.
They lay panting against each other, wrapped in each other's arms, Peter blanketing Stiles' body with his own as he pressed his nose into the human's neck, occasionally lapping at his throat.
"I thought that we were going to have to part ways, that you were going back to Beacon Hills. I was planning how I would be able to get you to choose me and come to me when it was time for you to go to college. I was dreading having to say goodbye to you," Peter admitted once he had caught his breath.
Stiles wiggled out from under Peter but he didn't go far, he rolled onto his stomach on the bed right next to Peter, their sides pressed tightly together, Stiles looking Peter right in the eyes as he talked honestly.
"I can't stay there, not without you. You have been the one person that has kept me sane over the last couple of years, I can't imagine not being with you, not spending my time with you. I can live without seeing them every day, I can't live without you. I thought we could figure out where we can go, I could easily pass high school exams so I could skip that and go straight to college," Stiles said. "We need to change our names and set our lives up somewhere else, somewhere away from them and their mistrust of you and their dismissal of me. I thought…"
"Yes?" Peter pressed when Stiles' heartbeat picked up, fluttering with a mixture of nerves and excitement.
"I thought that if we are choosing new identities, and starting a new life, we could always start our new life as Mr and Mr," Stiles blushed.
"As in, married?" Peter felt his eyes flashing at the thought, something that clearly gave Stiles confidence going by the way the mix slid into his lap, leaning down to kiss him.
"As in married," Stiles nodded.
"I like the thought of that. We could find a nice house somewhere near a college that you want to go to, I could get a job, we can set ourselves up and start a life, find an Alpha to take the spark from, start a pack and have the life that we want together," Peter suggested stroking his hands up and down Stiles' thighs soothingly as the human settled on top of him, resting his head on his chest and snuggling closer to him. He reached out and threw the duvet over them to stop his human from getting cold more than anything else.
They lay cuddled together, the events of the last few days catching up with them, and the potential of the future that they could have together stretched out in front of them.
"Stiles?" Peter said into the quiet calm and contentedness of the night.
"Hmm?" Stiles shifted in his arms, not quite asleep but hovering on the edge of it.
"I love you," Peter admitted. Stiles' heart mad to his hearing, thundering in his chest as he lifted his head to look at the werewolf under him with wide eyes.
"I love you too," Stiles said, and even though his heart was going mad in chest Peter knew he was telling the utter truth.
Peter wrapped him in his arms and drew him back to his chest to seal their lips together in another kiss, this one filled with the tenderness and love that he had for Stiles instead of the passion and lust that their other kisses had been filled with.
Epilogue
Stiles smiled as Peter's arms wrapped around his waist, his werewolf pulling him back against his warm body. He tilted Stiles' chin up so that he could press their lips together, kissing him deeply.
"Good morning, my love," Peter rumbled against his lips.
"Good morning. Happy anniversary," Stiles smiled brightly at him.
"Happy second anniversary" Peter smiled back tightening his arms around Stiles and resting his chin on his shoulder.
"Are you happy?" Stiles asked quietly after a few moments of them just standing there on their covered balcony watching the snow coming down to cover the city underneath them.
"Stiles?" Peter asked confused at the question, lifting his head and loosening his arms enough that Stiles could turn in his arms and look at him.
"Was it what you imagined two years ago when we lay in that bed together in the cabin?" Stiles asked wrapping his arms around Peter's shoulders.
"No," Peter shook his head leaning down to kiss Stiles again. "It is even better," He smiled.
"It is isn't it," Stiles grinned. He laughed when Peter lifted him up by the thighs, the same way that he had two years ago the first time that they made love. He gasped when Peter pressed him against the cool glass of their covered balcony, kissing him even more passionately as his hands wandered over Stiles' naked body.
It had been a long two years and so much in their lives had changed since they had laid down the tentative plans of their future in that cabin, their hopes and dreams muttered between them late into the dark night.
They had spent a week in the cabin, looking around and choosing where they wanted to go. They had settled on Portland, part city, part nature that suited the two of them, they had gotten their fake ID's created, ones that even the FBI would struggle to take apart thanks to the contacts that they both had, magical and not. They had arrived in Portland as Mr and Mr Lewis, married for a couple of months, and ready to start their lives together.
They had stayed in a hotel for a couple of months until they had found their perfect home, somewhere that they both absolutely loved. The penthouse apartment of the building was two stories, it had wide-open spaces that helped Peter relax, it had views that Stiles loved, they both felt secure being at the top of the building.
Stiles had started college at a top criminal profiling course, Peter had started a supernatural business, giving advice to those that were having supernatural problems and making a small fortune to add to their already impressive fortune, but it was more about him doing something that he enjoyed and keeping his amazing mind busy.
They had heard about a 'bad' Alpha a couple of hundred miles away from them three months after they had settled into their new home, and they had made their way out there to deal with him and get Peter the Alpha spark.
Their Pack was small and close, and that was exactly what the two of them had wanted. All seven of their Pack had come to them through Peter's business, them reaching out for help because of bad situations that they were in. Peter had realised that they needed help in getting away from their Packs and had offered them somewhere safe to go. They had a mix of different creatures including a vegetarian Wendigo and an Ace Incubus, but with Peter's help, and more importantly Stiles' magic they were able to live their lives the way that they wanted. And their Pack was going to be expanding to 8 members plus them considering one of their betas' was due to give birth over the next few weeks.
Stiles missed his friends and his father, and now that he was legal completely of age, and their lives were settled enough that they were comfortable and in control of their territory, he was thinking about getting in touch with them again. He loved them despite the neglect and hurt that they had caused him over the years, and he wanted to see if there was something that they could salvage between them, hoping that his absence will have made them realise their faults in their relationships with him and that they would be willing to change. And if they didn't, well Stiles had a Pack and family all of his own. He had a man that he loved utterly and loved him utterly, and a man who would do everything for him and looked at him as though he had hung the moon and stars for him.
Stiles stroked his hand over Peter's face lovingly, looking up at him from where they had collapsed onto the rug after making love against the window of their balcony. The rings on his finger caught his attention and he smiled happily as the winter sun caught off of the large diamond set in the centre of 14 smaller precious stones of varying colours that reminded him of the pride flag. The wishbone wedding ring that set under it was set with six diamond-shaped rubies that were the same colour as Peter's alpha eyes, the number of stones representing how long they had known each other when Peter had placed the ring on his finger two years ago, and every anniversary since Peter had gifted him with something with a ruby set into it.
"Would you want to marry for real? I could arrange that?" Peter asked concerned as he blanketed Stiles' body with his own, taking the hand stroking his face and kissing the rings resting on Stiles' finger.
"We are married, we're mates, I don't care about a ceremony, that night in that cabin two years ago was the only promise that I need to exchange with you. Storm Lewis or Mieczyslaw Stilinski what we have between us is utterly real," Stiles shook his head.
"I love you," Peter smiled leaning down to kiss him again. Stiles laughed when they parted and he felt something settling against his throat, reaching down he lifted the teardrop ruby pendant up so that he could see it properly.
"I love you too, so much," Stiles shook his head drawing Peter down for another kiss. When they parted he wiggled his fingers in the direction of his desk, grinning in delight as his magic summoned the small box that he had hidden away in there, that Peter had known all about but had respected him not to spoil his surprise.
Peter growled happily when Stiles opened the ring box and revealed a silver band that was set with eight amber stars, the colour that Peter insisted Stiles' eyes were. Stiles took his hand and slid the ring down to rest against the silver wedding ring set with diamonds and rubies that he hadn't taken off since Stiles had slid it onto his finger when they had first arrived in Portland and had gone straight to a jewellers.
"I love it," Peter smiled.
"Happy anniversary my love,"
"The second of many, many more," Stiles sighed happily drawing Peter back down to him.
They were going to have many more anniversaries together. Their life wasn't perfect, but it was as damned close to the perfect that Stiles wanted, and though they had their ups and downs, and they definitely had their arguments, they loved each other, and they had the world laid down at their feet.