Note: We just got one thing real quick before we get started. In this, unlike in SPN, the Princes of Hell each had/have a different eye type. Azazel has his canon yellow, Dagon's are white taking after Lilith and long regarded as "Lucifer's Second Daughter", Ramiel's are deep red, and Bermodeus (Stiles) being the runt of the litter, was the first demon to have black eyes. A demon's eye color is said to say something about what prince or princes they take after, but that's largely regarded as silly superstition. But maybe it's regarded as silly superstition because most demons are black eyed and don't want to admit they take after the Prince largely regarded as the weakest? Nobody really knows. However, Crowley's eyes are a mix of red and black. Now onto replies!

KC: Eek! Thank friend! Honest, it was so worth it to rewrite the old chapters. The first alone looks LEAGUES better than it used to. The writing is decent, Cas isn't out of character, Dean actually seems like someone with a crush and something to hide rather than just seeming annoyed. It was just such a relief to fix it. Also, side note, this is the chapter I was writing when I read your first review!

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Peter tried not to be too startled as Lydia's father came out of the bathroom just as he'd made it to the door. "Hi…" He said awkwardly, surprising the man in return. Once he recovered, he gave Peter a nod in greeting.

"Looking for the boy I take it?"

"I am…" Peter confirmed with a nod.

"And you are? Father? Uncle?" The man asked. Peter wasn't sure why the question bothered him. It wasn't at all an odd one. Stiles was more than half his age physically. It was a common and fair assumption. Peter could only assume it was because he was uncomfortable with the man himself.

"Nope…" Was all he said clearing his throat a bit. He seemed to take the hint though.

"Ah… Well, I'll let you go then…" The man said simply, moving past Peter and hurrying off, though giving a look back at him over his shoulder. Peter honestly couldn't bring himself to give a damn about whatever he'd assumed or thought about that assumption. He knocked a few times on the ajar door, a bit frantic, then opened it without waiting for a reply.

"Stiles, hey…" He tried to sound calmer than he was. Stiles immediately turned away from the mirror giving him full attention, face contorted with concern.

"Peter!" He said as a hushed exclamation, stepping over to pull him into the bathroom. Peter opened his mouth to ask if Stiles was okay, but in what felt like less than a second Stiles' lips were on his, his hands cradling Peter's head, pulling him in close. Peter fumbled. not knowing what to do with his hands, eventually settling them on Stiles' hips, but then only became even more frazzled as he felt Stiles' tongue pass his lips. He more stumbled Stiles up against the sink vanity than pushed, but Stiles seemed more than pleased with the result, lacing an arm over Peter's neck and turning his head to kiss Peter even harder. Finally Peter started to return the gesture, slipping his leg between Stiles'. Only when Peter put his hand on the mirror to keep their balance on the counter did he remember its existence and decide to look at the two of them in it, admittedly mostly for the sake of vanity. His eyes shone, and only seeing that did he realize he also had fangs, and his claws were threatening to dig into the small of Stiles' back. As badly as he didn't wanna stop, he had to get control of himself before he ended up hurting Stiles. He grabbed Stiles' hips, pulling away from Stiles, much to his whining displeasure. "Nonono…" Stiles groaned, kissing Peter's neck until he couldn't reach anymore.

"Stiles, what the hell has gotten into you?" Peter asked with a bit of a laugh. Stiles sighed.

"Nothing! I just-" Stiles looked away from his face, instead sliding his hand from Peter's ribs to his hip and then taking his hand to where his stab wound had been. "I was worried you were going to die…. Not knowing…." Stiles shook his head, looking back up. "I'm tired of tiptoeing around the fact that we like each other."

"You don't want to go rushing into something like this…" Peter sighed, trying to calm himself and Stiles down a bit, but he just leaned in so their chests touched, and breathed his words up Peter's neck.

"I want you to take me home, handcuff me to your bed, and not stop until I'm screaming your name like the fucking Shepherd's Gospel… And then lie and tell me my pancakes aren't shit the next morning…" Stiles muttered in a voice that made Peter absolutely shiver. Still he tried to stay strong.

"I don't want to hurt you, Stiles…"

"You know what I just felt?" Stiles muttered in the same voice, a little smirk on his lips. Peter gave a questioning look, signalling for him to tell him. Stiles drummed his fingers where they were resting on Peter's abdomen. "Your heart beating slightly faster over the words 'I don't want'…." Stiles repeated Peter's own words back to him, grinning as Peter rolled his eyes.

"You are the devil…." Peter ground out at him. Stiles just chucked.

"Not quite, but if you'd be down with a threesome I could pull some strings…"

"Shut up…" Peter laughed. Stiles wrapped his arms around his neck pulling him down to kissing proximity again.

"Make me…" He breathed in a whisper, and Peter couldn't help pulling him as close as possible, pressing his mouth to Stiles', licking past his lips with a hungry yearning. He lifted Stiles onto the counter with ease for nothing more than the hope of getting just an inch closer, of pressing just a little tighter together. Stiles hooked his legs behind Peter's tights digging his nails into his neck and his back, making the wolf in Peter's soul all the more ravenous. As much as Peter wanted to revel in Stiles' adorable temptuous needy moan, just as he let it out, Peter heard another noise and caught a troubling scent in the small room, and pulled his mouth away from Stiles' to look to the door, eliciting a whine from Stiles he was physically incapable of caring about as he locked his eyes with, of course, glowing red ones. "Oh… Hey, Scott." Stiles said in a mock casual voice, a mischievous almost spiteful hum just under his words. "S'up?" Peter tried to shake his head out of freeze mode, since apparently Stiles wasn't seeing the danger of the situation.

"Scott… This isn't what it looks like…" Peter said with his hoarse quiet-with-fear voice. Scott just glared at him harder.

"It looks like you making out with my best friend…." Scott growled, fangs growing out. Peter honestly had no good reply to that.

"...Right… Then this is exactly what it looks like…." Before he could react, Scott had slammed him into the wall, and was throwing him out the door.