Peter wasn't sure what to think of the invitation to dinner. Stiles would meet Emily tomorrow and the rest of the pack this weekend when Laura would be home from college. At least that was their working plan for now, it was possible that Stiles would bolt at the last minute. He was not comfortable with the idea to just walk into a werewolf's den. Especially with the whole pack present. Stiles had agreed to have dinner with them but his heart-beat had been all over the place and he'd been reeking of anxiety. Peter had assured him that he could leave whenever he wanted and that they were all friendly but that only did that much. However, the fact alone that Stiles was willing to do this spoke of how much he wanted this. Of how much he wanted Peter.
And still. It had been Derek who Stiles had responded to last night.
Peter didn't get a chance to talk to Stiles all day and with John sitting at the table with them they wouldn't be able to talk about last night over dinner. Was that on purpose? Was Stiles stalling?
Stiles said that John would have to leave early for a night shift and that they would have time to talk later so Peter was fine with waiting until then. Maybe they could clear some things up.
Peter kept himself busy over the day but his mind kept going back to Derek's hand on Stiles' face and how Stiles had just melted into it.
Since Stiles wanted to stay as long as possible, Peter knew that he would be at John's on the dot or maybe even a bit later so he used the chance and drove over a bit early. He wanted to talk to John about the hunters and the investigation.
"Glad you didn't show up at the station for this." John led the way into the house. "Parrish would get even more suspicious."
They bypassed the living room and went upstairs.
"I have a copy of the important files here," John explained when they entered the study. "Figured you wanted to talk about that today."
"Dinner was Stiles' idea," Peter corrected. "Don't ask me what he's aiming for here." Maybe just dinner, maybe he had ulterior motives, they would see. "But yes, I wanted to talk to you. Without Stiles listening in. I don't want to make it worse for him."
John had been busy, going through the files, but now he stopped and gave Peter a look.
"How bad is it?" He asked.
Peter stepped over to the desk to have a look and for a long moment, he didn't know how to answer the question.
"He had a nightmare last night," he finally said. "A bad one."
"He gets those from time to time." John made a pained noise. "Not that often but if something hits close to home …"
Like getting knocked out, kidnapped, and tortured, Peter got that.
"Sometimes he can't wake up," John said. "He just screams and fights and can't wake up. I've seen it twice so far." A haunted look ghosted over his face.
Peter knew exactly how he felt. What had happened last night? He didn't want to see Stiles like that ever again.
"Derek came to get him," Peter said in a low voice. He kept his eyes on the file he was leafing through but he wasn't seeing it. "He calmed him down with one touch."
The bitterness must have been audible in his voice because John said: "Don't be jealous of Derek."
"I'm not …" The idea alone was laughable.
"They have been together for a long time." It sounded like something John had told himself before. "Derek is the one thing in Stiles' life he can rely on. Derek is there for him. Always. And he will be until the end of time. Everything else is just a fleeting thing for Stiles. You. I. We will grow old and die while Stiles won't have aged a day. But Derek will be there."
Peter hadn't thought about it from that angle.
"That's why he's so obsessed with you eating healthy?"
John made a face.
"Even with rabbit food, he can't keep me alive forever."
"He loves you," Peter reminded him.
"You're important to him, too." John straightened up. "Enough with the sentimental stuff. Do you have anything new on those hunters? What about the brother? Chris Argent?"
Grateful for the change of topic, Peter brought John up to date with what his contacts had found out. Which wasn't much, the other hunters had vanished again and the Argent siblings were keeping their heads low.
John had talked to Chris but he claimed that he didn't know anything about the abducted teenagers or the men behind it.
"He says that he isn't seeing his sister that often," John said. "I got the impression that they don't get along that well."
"So you think it's more Kate's doing than Chris'?" It made sense. Peter had been observing the Argents for a while now and Chris and his wife Victoria were living quite a boring life. Chris was working on opening his business but that was all legal and not related to the supernatural at all.
"You say that Kate has been at the house," John pointed out.
"Not lately but yes, her scent was still lingering."
"That connects at least her to the crime scene," John said it in a professional tone but his heart skipped a beat over it. Officially Stiles was his nephew but in reality, they were not related at all, however, that didn't change the fact that John loved him like his own, Peter got that. It was a lot how packs worked. Boyd, Erica, and Isaac were not blood and they hadn't grown up in a pack but they were pack. Peter would kill for them, he would die for them. And he saw the same in John here.
They were still discussing the case when Peter heard the jeep in the driveway. Some barking, lots of cursing, and a slammed door later, Stiles announced proudly: "I'm here!"
"We noticed," John yelled back and hurried to gather the papers before Stiles barged into the room.
Stiles' eyes immediately fell on the files on the table but for once he didn't seem to be interested in them. Peter ushered him out of the room nevertheless.
"I brought steak," Stiles proclaimed and with a glance at John he added: "And stuff for salad."
"As long as I get a steak with the salad," John said in a long-suffering voice. This was easy banter, it felt worn in and familiar, it reminded Peter of his pack and he couldn't hide a smile.
John was in charge of the steaks while Peter took care of the salad and Stiles was put on potato duty. Mainly his job was to wrap them in tin foil. That didn't take long and after that, he was bugging Peter to let him help.
"You're not getting a knife." Peter snagged said knife out of his reach before Stiles could get his hands on it. "I don't want a finger in my salad."
Stiles stuck out his tongue at him but then settled down to watch them prepare the food and to steal a piece of cucumber here and there.
Dinner was surprisingly fun. They kept it to a light chatter, nobody wanted to ruin the mood with the dark stuff. John and Stiles fell into an easy conversation with John telling him about what was happening at the station, the main topic being that Parrish was still looking for Derek. It got an honest laugh out of Stiles. Stiles added stories of his own, all the little things going on at school. Listening to him made it clear that he was not the teenager he looked like. He had a view on his classmates that showed how much more mature he was. But that made the usual high school shenanigans even funnier.
Peter would have been fine with just listening to them, the familiarity between them was satisfying to watch, but they included him as well. Not long and Peter was telling stories of his own. Outside of the pack, he could not talk about certain things, and who would he even talk to anyway, but here he could just tell the story of how Isaac had shredded his clothes because he had not been able to retract his claws in the beginning.
"He just stood there, in tatters and with the most miserable look on his face I've ever seen." Peter chuckled at that memory.
"I know that look," John joint in. "That one time, Stiles tried to make pancakes …"
"That was ten years ago," Stiles cut in, arms flailing. Peter had to save his glass before Stiles could knock it off the table.
"You almost burned down the house," John countered but then he turned to Peter. "You know when on TV the mad scientist screws up an experiment and it blows up in his face? That was Stiles."
"It wasn't that bad." Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, sulking, but only for a second before he pointed at John again. "And I offered to clean it up."
"It was beyond cleaning up, I had to remodel!"
There was no heat behind their argument, by now it was a fond memory. But Peter would have paid money to witness that.
After dinner John left for work, leaving the dishes to Stiles and Peter.
"I'm sorry for last night." Stiles broke the silence. The dishes were in the dishwasher and they were just cleaning up the rest. "I hope Derek didn't scare you too much." He paused before he added in a small voice: "Or I. Derek says I had a bad one."
Peter dried his hands and put away the dish towel.
"You don't have to apologize," he finally said. "After what you've been through …"
"I'm messed up, I know that." Stiles braced himself on the sink but Peter got the feeling that he was bracing himself for more than just an unpleasant conversation.
"I'm not the role model for mental health either." Peter stepped up behind him and gently put his hands on Stiles' tense shoulders. He was not good at admitting his feelings, which he had, lots of them when it came to Stiles. It almost scared him how quickly he was falling for him.
So Peter did the only thing he could think of to tell Stiles that it was okay. He tugged Stiles' collar aside and then he kissed the exposed skin of Stiles' neck.
"What are you doing?" Stiles asked, clearly amused but he did turn his head to give him better access.
Peter bit down. Hard.
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath and struggled out of reflex but Peter had his arm around his torso, holding him close, while he clamped down on Stiles' neck until he tasted blood.
After the initial second of surprise, Stiles stopped struggling and leaned more into him. He let out a moan and a wave of arousal hit Peter but this was not about that and Peter hoped that Stiles understood that.
"I take you're in for the long run?" Stiles asked when Peter finally eased off.
"I'm here for as long as you want me," Peter murmured into his ear and then he licked the blood off Stiles' skin.
"Thought werewolves don't mate for life." Stiles was still leaning into him, enjoying the soothing licks over the tender spot.
"We don't." Peter rightened Stiles' collar and straightened up. "But we do have strong bonds among pack and partners count as pack."
"Do you count me as pack?" Stiles craned his neck to look him in the eye.
Stiles most likely wouldn't like his answer, being pack was the last thing he wanted to be, but Peter didn't hesitate when he answered with a yes.
Stiles studied him for a long moment before he brought their lips together for a kiss.
They moved over to the living room eventually but they didn't watch the next Marvel movie. This was not that kind of date.
They did watch a movie, some stupid murder mystery that was so dumb it counted as a comedy. Peter fell asleep halfway through the movie.
He woke up to somebody standing in the door to the kitchen but by now he was so used to Derek showing up that he didn't wake with a start.
"No nightmares so far," Peter told him in a low voice to not wake Stiles who was sleeping, and drooling, with his head on Peter's shoulder.
Derek nodded to that and for a moment he just took in the sight of the both of them. Peter wondered what he thought of them but then Stiles was smacking his lips and with bleary eyes, he asked: "Derek?"
"Time to go home." Peter nudged him more awake and to his own surprise, he was more than okay with Stiles leaving with Derek.
Once he was alone, Peter switched off the TV, put their glasses away, and then he made sure to close the front door properly on his way out. This was not how a date was supposed to end but it was their normal now.
