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Peter rolled his eyes, hearing the pack of mutants approach the loft. Drama, hormones, bullshit. That was all that came out of that whole group. It was the first day of school and Derek had called them all together to bond and talk through any new issues.
They weren’t all mutants. Stiles was never as trying as the rest of them. The boy’s clever mind and quick comebacks made him a fun adversary. There weren’t many people who could hold up to Peter’s sarcasm and cynicism, but Stiles would just grin at every tease or insult and get into the rhythm of flinging it right back at Peter. Stiles had also turned out to be quite the chess player and challenged Peter which had shocked him at first before spurring him on to find a way to win.
Stiles hadn’t been around much during the summer break. Peter had noticed his absence, in that he had no sparring partner, chess or verbal. He’d been vaguely worried, just vaguely, he knew Stiles could take care of himself. Then during a pack meeting, he heard Scott and Lydia discussing Stiles; Scott was lost as Stiles was spending the summer with his aunt in Los Angeles. Scott had whined about how Stiles wasn’t answering his texts right away and hadn’t asked what Scott was up to.
“Come on, Scott, it’s not all about you,” Peter had drawled, unable to hold his tongue. “Did you ever think Stiles might be enjoying his time away?”
“Why wouldn’t he want to talk to me, maybe I want to tell him about my summer,” Scott whined.
Peter shook his head and rolled his eyes. “Maybe he’s enjoying his first big break from the supernatural.” That was all the drama he could handle and had gone back to his corner. Scott had continued to whine until even Lydia was telling him it was enough.
Now that it had been nearly three months since Stiles had been gone, Peter found himself looking forward to his return. He listened in to the group heading up the stairs.
“Everyone was staring at him,” Allison said with a giggle.
“Because he’s freaking hot now,” Lydia responded. “How did he learn to stop fidgeting?”
“Scott told me he’s off his ADHD meds and doesn’t seem to be having a hard time at all,” Allison explained. “I don’t know exactly how he spent his summer vacation, but I wouldn’t mind listening.”
Lydia giggled. “You and I both. What about you, Isaac?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the teen muttered.
“Bullshit,” Lydia called. “You were staring at his ass, just as much as we were, don’t try to deny it.”
“He’s just really gotten into shape,” Isaac whispered.
“Isaac, it’s okay to think he’s attractive. I think Allison is beautiful and it doesn’t have to mean a thing,” Lydia told him, voice soft and patient.
Young Isaac was having his sexuality crisis, Peter noted. It was about time. Who were they talking about? Was it Stiles?
“When is he getting here?” Allison asked.
“Scott said they’d ride together after lacrosse tryouts. Shouldn’t be much longer,” Lydia said. “I have a feeling Stiles won’t be benched this year.”
“Not with those muscles,” Allison said with a husky chuckle.
Having seen Stiles during tryouts, Jackson huffed. “I still think he was on something. That much improvement in a few months? No way!” Jackson complained.
“We would’ve smelled it if he did,” Isaac pointed out. “He smelled the same as always to me, just without the medicine he was on.”
So it was Stiles they were talking about, Peter noted. He was definitely interested to see these changes. Call him a pervy old man, but Stiles was eighteen now, his birthday hit over the summer, so Peter was free to look all he wanted and he could finally let his heart get as involved as it seemed to want to be. Stiles had explained once that because of the ADHD, which hadn’t been diagnosed at the time, he had to start kindergarten a year late, making him older than most of his classmates.
Stiles had always been attractive with that pale skin with beauty marks, those wide whiskey-colored eyes framed in thick lashes. Lanky body with at least one more growth spurt left to go, with all the potential to become stunning.
The girls came in while Peter was starting a new pot of coffee, Derek reading on the new sectional Peter had bought. Derek had put up a fuss at the size, but when he discovered how it felt to sink into its deep cushions, his ass was plastered with no further complaints.
They chatted amongst themselves until they heard Stiles’ jeep approaching the loft. It was remarkably quieter than it usually was, which was shocking. He didn’t think the old jeep had it in her, but Stiles must have found a miracle worker to act as mechanic.
“Dude, I still can’t believe it! You got every shot by Jeff, it’s gotta be some kind of record,” Scott was exclaiming with a laugh. “Jeff is one chill guy, but I’m pretty sure he actually growled at you at one point. Like Derek in the early days growl!” Peter heard Scott laugh before his voice get quiet. “Did you see Jackson’s face?!”
A deep chuckle sounded nearby. Peter perked up at the warm sound. Was that Stiles?
Boyd’s voice echoed Scott. “It was pretty impressive.”
“I don’t know if Jeff wanted to beat you or lick you,” Erica said with a wicked chuckle.
“Yeah, sure,” Stiles replied with a huff, voice definitely deeper and more rumbly than when he left. It made Peter’s wolf sit up, ears perking at the lovely tone.
Peter made sure he was near the kitchen with the best view of the loft so he could see the entrance of the new and apparently improved Stiles Stilinski.
The loft door slid open and Scott stepped through followed by a taller version of Stiles who must have had grown at least three inches and put on probably twenty pounds of what looked like solid muscle.
He was tanned, his hair sun bleached which just made those honey eyes sparkle more than usual. His hair had fully grown out and was tousled into a charming style. Wide shoulders tapering down to a trim waist and delightfully shapely legs which were strong and covered in lean muscle.
Holy fuck.
The little shit was hot. Burning hot.
“Hey Peter,” Stiles greeted him with a warm smile. “How was your summer?”
“Stiles, looking good,” Peter intoned, giving him an appreciative up and down. “My summer wasn’t noteworthy. I did, however, find a couple of tomes I think you’d be interested in.”
Eyes getting impossibly brighter, Stiles came closer. “What did you get? Can I see them after the meeting?”
“Of course, sweetheart. You also owe me a game of chess. Playing my nephew leaves much to be desired,” Peter said, looking at Derek.
“Good, then you’ll stop asking me to play,” Derek muttered.
“I’ve got this Sourwolf,” Stiles told him with a confident grin. “I’ll kick your ass, Chess-wolf,” Stiles said and winked at Peter.
The little shit winked at him. Who was this new Stiles? He didn’t know what he’d done over summer, but it had obviously done him a world of good.
“Nope, not that one,” Peter said with a shake of his head. He loved this little nickname game they played with each other. Usually the nickname suggestions were insulting or funny, usually bad funny. He didn’t know if he’d ever agree to one just so they could keep the game going.
“Eh, that one was more off the cuff anyway,” Stiles said with a grin. “Obviously we didn’t hang out enough, I’m rusty.”
He walked over to chat with Lydia and Peter couldn’t help watching him move.
Stiles stood straighter, more confident; sure of himself in a way Peter was sure he’d never felt before. He’d obviously been shopping as his clothes, while fitting smoothly to his new body, were higher quality. The Henley rolled up to expose leanly muscles forearms, jeans hugging thighs that Peter wanted to dive between.
Derek finally saw Stiles and his eyes went wide as his eyes perused the teen. Stiles was already sitting and chatting with Lydia and didn’t see the look. Peter did and he didn’t like how Derek was trying to activate x-ray vision to see what was under those fitted jeans and snug shirt.
Peter walked to the sectional and sat next to Stiles, probably closer than was necessary, but he didn’t care. He was interested in learning more about this new Stiles and his wolf didn’t like seeing Derek perusing him like he had the right to.
There was a time when Stiles had a crush on Derek, heart always fluttering around him. Derek, oblivious soul that he was, never noticed and slowly Stiles interest had ebbed until it was gone. Peter just hoped Stiles was as oblivious of the looks as the alpha had been.
“Thanks for coming everyone. How was your first day?” Derek asked, bringing to meeting to order.
Peter was proud of the progress Derek had made as alpha. He was actually leading, not just growling and scowling at everyone. There was hope for their little band of misfits.
He was currently trying to resist the urge to lean in and follow Stiles’ delicious sunshine and autumn scent to that long stretch of neck. It took all of his strength to cover his attraction with the whole group sitting there, all of them but three able to smell everything you felt.
“Stiles made first line!” Scott cried out, cheering for his friend. “Coach didn’t wait like with everyone else, just told him he was in right there and then.”
Everyone clapped for him, Derek giving a whistle of celebration.
Peter took the opportunity to pat Stiles’ leg in congratulations. “Well done, Stiles.”
Stiles, meanwhile, was deep pink under that delicious tan he had accrued of the summer. “Thanks guys,” he mumbled. “Next topic.”
“I just wanna know what you’re on, because there is no way spazzy Stiles can improve that much in three short months,” Jackson insisted, petulant tone all too apparent.
“You just hope he was on something because if he isn’t, then he just beat you because he’s that good,” Erica said with a smirk.
Stiles frowned. “Wouldn’t you all be able to smell it if I was on something?”
“Yes, Stiles, Jackson here just seems to be his regular asshole self. Support your teammate, Jackass, stop your jealousy,” Peter said, staring Jackson down.
“Whatever,” Jackson mumbled and sank down deeper into the couch.
“I’m not on anything, Jackson,” Stiles sighed. “I just got into shape and my aunt found some local players who trained me and gave me tips and stuff. That’s it.”
“Perfectly reasonable,” Derek said. “Congratulations, Stiles.”
“Thanks,” Stiles said, looking down.
“Don’t listen to the haters,” Peter said, nudging him with his elbow, winking at him when Stiles made eye contact.
Stiles huffed at him with an unwilling smile, nudging him back.
They continued talking about their first days, what teachers were cool, the amount of homework they had. Derek had decided to keep track of the pack’s grades and attendance. He told them part of succeeding as a pack was to arm themselves with knowledge. Graduating and moving onto college was something he wanted for each of them.
Peter knew Stiles approved from the small smile playing at his full lips. Then Stiles nudged him and Peter’s wolf couldn’t help preening at the attention.
Once the meeting broke up and Derek had talked to each of them to get their school schedules, Stiles came to Peter. “Hey man, still want to show me those books?” His amber eyes were hopeful.
“Absolutely, come on up,” Peter said, climbing the stairs. They had turned Isaac’s old bedroom into a small library. Isaac preferred Scott’s home than the loft. Peter was sure part of it was due to Melissa McCall giving him the mothering he’d been missing.
He walked in and over to a small table where three large tomes sat.
“I know Deaton told you about your spark, yes?” Peter asked.
“Yes. He refuses to train me, though, so I’ve been learning on my own, looking into finding other sparks to learn from,” Stiles said, looking around at the books, hunger on his face.
“That’s not at all surprising. He is no more an actual emissary than I am. You, however, would fill the role admirably,” Peter said with a smile.
Stiles blushed and smiled in return. It didn’t make Peter’s heart speed up at the beauty of him.
“Thanks,” Stiles said, quiet and shy at the compliment.
“So, the top book is about sparks and nothing but. The middle is a basic magic book, teaches about all the different types and classes, what to look for, how to train, et cetera, it covers the basics of the spectrum but doesn’t get overly involved in any one in particular. The bottom book is a really old bestiary from a traveling spark, so it has all sorts of creatures from all over the world. He wrote it like it was a journal, so you can also see a bit what life was like for him. It’s a really good read,” Peter told him and handed the books to Stiles, noting the play of muscles in his arms and chest.
“Thank you, Peter, I’ll take good care of them,” Stiles promised. “Can I call you if I have any questions?”
“Of course,” Peter agreed. “Call, text, video, whatever you need.” Of course, Stiles already had his number; Derek had all of them trade phone numbers so the pack could have help from all of them if it was needed.
“Cool, thanks dude,” Stiles said, inching toward the door. His appetite for knowledge hadn’t changed over the summer even if everything else did.
Two weeks later…
If Peter had to listen to McCall whine for one more minute, he was going to grab that uneven jaw and break to see if it would even him out.
“But Derek, he’s keeping something from me! Two weekends in a row he just disappears and the sheriff doesn’t care. Just says he knows where Stiles was and that’s all that matters,” Scott was whining from where he was dramatically laid out on the sectional.
Derek sighed. “He’s allowed to have a private life, Scott. I talked to you about this at the start of summer. He’s obviously gone through some changes over the summer, and maybe it’s still going on. Just give him some space. Text him, be there for him, even if you can’t be in the same room,” Derek counseled. “If you bitch at him, he’s liable to hold it against you. Let him have his life and just make sure he knows you are there for him. Support him, stop trying to run his life.”
Scott groaned. “Ugh. Fine. Can I hang out here for a while?” The request was quiet, Scott’s eyes downcast.
Derek looked at him, saw he was genuinely upset and not just whiny. “Sure. Let’s find a movie to watch.”
Peter rolled his eyes and went up to his room. Pulling his phone out, he texted Stiles.
Hope you’re having a good weekend. You are missed. Chess match Sunday night?
Peter slid his phone in his pocket and prepared to wait for a return text. Surprisingly, it was only a few minutes when his phone dinged.
Thanks Peter, you too. Yes to chess! I’ll see you Sunday, say 7, my place?
Peter grinned. He really was fond of this young man.
Sounds perfect. See you then.
Sunday, over their chess game, Stiles decided to work on his nickname suggestions.
Peter had said nope to Goatee-wolf. “It sounds like you’re calling me a goat, Stiles.”
V-wolf also got turned down, based on his love of v-neck shirts. “It sounds like I’m a virgin, Stiles.”
“I think it makes you sound like a superhero,” Stiles said, making his way to the kitchen to refill their coffee.
Peter had stared after him for a moment. He almost okayed the nickname just so Stiles would think that about him. But he enjoyed the back and forth too much to give in yet.
They moved on and discussed where Stiles was at with his reading. No shock to learn Stiles had nearly finished the first book about sparks.
“It’s so fascinating, Peter,” Stiles said, his honey eyes sparkling. Then he took out one of Peter’s knights and sat back in his chair. “Can I tell you a secret? A serious one?”
Peter cocked his head and frowned. “Of course you can. Anything you tell me is confidential.”
“Well, I need to tell a friend and I trust you. We’re friends, right?” Stiles asked, blinking those gorgeous eyes at him.
Peter couldn’t help but preen a little bit, his wolf rumbling happily. Stiles was the first person to refer to Peter as a friend since before the fire. He didn’t understand what it would mean to him. Yeah, he wanted to start seeing Stiles, officially, eventually, but right now? Being friends was perfect. “We are definitely friends and I also trust you.”
Stiles beamed at him, eyes nearly squinting with the force of his smile. “Good. Okay,” Stiles took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his jeans. “Secret time.”
Peter nodded and sat forward to give his full attention, curious about what Stiles would want to share that would need to be confidential.
“I’m ready,” he told Stiles, letting him see the seriousness in his eyes.
“Okay,” Stiles shook his hands one more time, then closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He put his hand up by his face and blew on his hand.
Stiles’ hand suddenly turned into a white flame, that pushed Peter back into his chair. “Holy shit!”
“It’s not actual fire, Peter, I would never do that to you,” Stiles told him, pulling his hand closer to him. “You’re seeing energy, it just looks like white flames. See?” Stiles passed his other hand over, through and around the flame before rolling the flame from one hand to the other, twirling it around his fingers before settling it back in one palm.
Peter took a breath to push back the lingering panic. He should have realized Stiles wouldn’t do that to him, he would have appreciated a warning. Deep breath. “Okay,” he said, wiping his hands on his pants, just as Stiles had done.
“Do you want to touch it? It’ll tickle,” Stiles told him.
Peter got up and walked the two steps to be next to Stiles, pulling his chair with him. Pulling Stiles’ chair around, they were sitting knee to knee when Peter extended a forefinger to go closer to the flame. It took guts, there was no way he wanted to be around actual fire. As his finger got closer, there was no heat, only a slight breeze, just a breath of air. Finally getting closer, he swiped his finger quickly through the very top of the flame. He felt a tingle go down his spine and he shivered with it.
“See,” Stiles said with a grin. “Peter, meet my spark. I, uh, may have gained some actual magical powers over the summer. It’s not just the potential Deaton claimed I have.”
“Holy shit,” Peter said again. He took his whole hand and traced it through the white energy. He shuddered again, smiling this time. “It feels like you,” he noted.
Stiles grinned at him and tilted his head. “What do I feel like?”
Peter swallowed hard, his body reacting to the experience. “Intelligence, curiosity with just a tinge of smart ass,” Peter told him with a wink.
Stiles chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through Peter’s chest. He was stunning and the magic that was his was just as stunning.
“Maybe more than a tinge,” Stiles said and grabbed Peter’s hand with the spark flame. They both gasped as a light blue flame mixed with his white spark. Peter’s wolf recognized Stiles’ spark.
Peter might have actually moaned out loud as Stiles’ energy seared through him, teasing him and inviting him in. His eyes flashed open, blue eyes glowing with his wolf, his cock going hard.
Stiles also had his eyes closed, plush lips open and moist, a sigh escaping him as they experienced the wolf and spark mingling together. Opening his eyes, Stiles met his gaze and Peter was enchanted. Those golden honey eyes were now white with a black iris. It should have been weird or scary, but it was still Stiles, another facet of who he was.
“Beautiful,” Peter said, reaching with his free hand and stroking a finger down his cheekbone, under his eye.
Stiles took a shuddering breath, closing his eyes at the gentle touch. “Really? I thought it might be too creepy.”
Shaking his head, Peter stroked his skin again. Soft, warm, mole dotted skin. Now he knew what Stiles felt like. Silken heat. “No, it’s like you’re more you than when you have your normal eye color. Like your spark is showing the real you that’s been inside all along. Does that make sense?”
Stiles blushed and nodded. “Thanks, Peter.”
“For what?” Peter asked, lowering their hands to rest on his knee, the flame still flickering between them. He didn’t take back his hand and, he noted, neither did Stiles.
“For not freaking out, for hearing me out, not judging me or accusing me of anything, which I am certain I am going to get from Scott and Deaton, maybe even Derek. Hell, maybe even the whole pack,” Stiles said, irritated. He kept his hand on Peter’s knee as they were leaning toward each other.
“Well, I trust you, first. I am a werewolf, there is nothing to judge or accuse. You obviously had the latent talent and now it’s been brought to the fore. We need to get you more books,” Peter said, already thinking of contacts he had in the magical community. “I have some people I can set you up with through email and you’ll have plenty of answers from them. More than you’d ever get from Deaton.”
Stiles smiled at him, eyes back to honey, their hands still clasped, the flame gently flickering before going out. “I would love that, Peter. Friend-wolf” he said shyly.
Peter loved that nickname, though it still wasn’t quite right. “Hm. Maybe. I’ll think about it. Can I ask a question?” At Stiles’ nod, Peter continued. “Can I ask what prompted your magic to come to life? I know most sparks have an incident or some type of magic seeking spell to get their sparks activated.”
Stiles blushed. “I was in a class over the summer and one day, my hands just went up in white flames. Luckily it was people in-the-know who were with me that day. Then it got easy to call it up and get it doing some actual magic, I was pretty excited. I didn’t think anything would come of it. But my teachers really surrounded me and told me what was happening and what the next steps would be. It was a really beautiful moment,” Stiles ended, reverence in his words.
“I’m so glad it was such a positive experience,” Peter said with a smile. “I noticed you still avoided telling me how it came about, but I won’t bug you about it. You’ll tell me when you’re ready.”
Stiles studied him for a solid minute before speaking. “Do you have any plans next Saturday, most of the day?”
If he had, they’d be canceled now, luckily that wasn’t the case. “I do now, with you,” he said with a wink.
“Cool. Can you meet me here and I’ll drive?” Stiles bit his lips, eyes full of nervous energy.
“I’ll just run over, it’ll be easier that way,” Peter said. Not to mention if one of the pack drove by Stiles’ house they wouldn’t see his car there and immediately get suspicious.
“That works,” Stiles said. “Close your eyes for a second.”
Peter closed his eyes and suddenly felt a mist of air covering his skin. It moved around his face and down his neck, around to the back of his head. It was cool and refreshing and felt amazing.
“That is my spark, what it feels like,” Stiles whispered.
“Amazing,” Peter told him honestly. “Like the mist off the ocean. Refreshing and cool.” He opened his eyes and smiled at him. “That was incredible.”
Stiles just smiled at him. “Other than my dad, you’re the first person I told.”
Peter was touched. “Thank you for trusting me. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. That’s why I decided to tell you. Not to mention having someone knowledgeable in magic, unlike my dad, is a relief,” Stiles said.
His shoulders didn’t look quite as tense either, Peter noted, pleased. “I can imagine it wouldn’t be easy.”
Stiles rolled his eyes and huffed “As soon as Scott finds out, he’ll run to Deaton who will then lecture me and possibly try to talk me out of using it. Like that is even possibility at this point. My spark is so intricately tied to my life force, I couldn’t separate it now, not that I ever would. The magic is always and will always be there. I don’t get magical exhaustion, like most magic practitioners. Even my teachers suffered with it after a big showing. But I never have and I’ve done some pretty big stuff,” Stiles told him, eyes back to excitement as he talks about what he’s done.
“I wouldn’t want to deal with Deaton either. You don’t have to listen to him, you know? No matter what Scott or anyone else says. You’re an adult now, you don’t have to do the kid politeness thing. Tell ‘em to fuck off until they can be supportive,” Peter said with a frown.
Stiles looked down and Peter saw a single wet tear hit his jeans. He leaned forward and tipped Stiles’ jaw up.
“Hey, what’s the matter?” Peter asked, running his thumb across that strong jawline, ready to kill Deaton and Scott if necessary.
“I just… I knew you would react well, I was just…,” Stiles cleared his throat. “And I know Scott will be all upset that I kept it from him. Deaton will be all about control and making sure I don’t kill people. It’s not like that would happen. I would lose my magic if I killed someone, other than in self-defense, that’s just the way it works.”
Scott and Deaton. Maybe he would kill them. Wouldn’t be hard. Scott works there most afternoons.
“Stop planning to kill Scott and Deaton, Plot-Wolf,” Stiles said with a shaky smile.
“Nope, not that one, although it’s very true. How’d you know that’s what I was doing?” Peter asked, a little surprised. He prided himself on his poker face.
“Well, aside from the fact it’s you, so of course you were, but I can see your aura. It’s still the normal blue shade you always are, but there’s a bit of grayish brown in there which is revenge,” Stiles told him.
“I would be more than willing to put down the both of them if they ever try anything with you. As a matter of fact, when you go to talk to Scott and then with Deaton, if you end up there, call me. I’ll go to Deaton’s with you and I can also be there if you want when you tell Scott or the pack. I am your ally, I’m in your corner no matter what happens,” Peter assured him, rubbing his knee, trying not to notice the strong firm, thigh muscle under his hand.
“Thanks, I will definitely take you up on that on both counts,” Stiles said. “I am happy with my spark. I can do things,” Stiles said and held his hand out until his phone levitated in the air and then landed in Stiles’ palm. “I can do it fast too,” Stiles wiggled his brows at Peter and held his hand out. This time, Peter’s phone zipped out of his own pocket and into Stiles’ hand. Then Peter squawked, in a sexy manly way, when his chair suddenly levitated and moved back into the original position in the room.
“Okay, I have to admit, that’s pretty freaking amazing,” Peter said, eyes wide with wonder. He’d had no idea he had a power kink, but this was working for him. Maybe it was just a Stiles kink. Yeah, that was it. “You’re a wizard, Stiles.”
Stiles snorted before breaking into delighted peals of laughter. Peter sat there with a big grin, watching him and enjoying Stiles’ appreciation for his joke. He should always have such light-hearted laughter in his life. Stiles deserved all the happiness.
“I never knew how much I wanted to hear that,” Stiles said, wiping at his eyes, cheeks red as he finally calmed.
“Especially knowing you’re going to make Harry Potter look like a magician at a kid’s birthday party,” Peter said with disdain.
“I don’t have to use spells either,” Stiles bragged with playful conceit.
“See? Already better than Potter,” Peter said. “Come on, let’s get something to eat, then I have to finish kicking your ass at chess.”
He stood and pulled Stiles up. “How the hell did you end up taller than me?” Peter was a little miffed. Then again, his crush was a tall, slender, athletic drink of water and he was thirsty.
“Closer to the gods, Mini-wolf,” Stiles said, tilting his head up, looking down his nose at Peter, an evil grin on his face.
“Not just no, but hell no, you little shit. Besides, I don’t know if an inch puts you closer to the gods,” Peter said, pouting, but mostly playing.
“Aw, don’t worry, Peter, I’ll take you with me,” Stiles told him and patted his head before running to the kitchen.
Peter ran after him, noting that Stiles was fast for such a short distance. Then he trapped Stiles against the sink and tickled him until he admitted Peter wasn’t short.
“Pretty sure it’s two inches,” Stiles noted later when they sat down to watch a movie after Peter winning their chess match.
Peter just growled and elbowed him gently. Then he grinned as Stiles sank into his side with a sigh as the movie progressed. He was hopeful it wouldn’t take much prodding to get Stiles to go out with him. Maybe after whatever Stiles wants to show him, he’d ask him out. The trip was a mystery, but he wasn’t going to look into it. Stiles had a reason to hide whatever this was and until they actually arrive at whatever it was, he would let Stiles have his secret.
That week, they spent hours texting back and forth from their various pursuits. Scott was still pissed about Stiles having a life, but there was nothing Stiles could do, he told Peter. He was allowed secrets. It’s not like Scott has always been truthful and forthcoming about every little thing, especially after becoming a werewolf. Peter agrees and wants nothing more than to go back in time and smack his crazy, insane ass silly for thinking he could turn Scott into a decent werewolf.
Stiles read all three magic books on top of the crazy amount of homework he had. Stiles was determined to beat out Lydia for Valedictorian. He’d given an evil grin and told Peter he couldn’t wait for Peter to hear his speech if he did win. The senior class would never forget it. Peter was not only fully supportive, but he was also thrilled to hear Stiles nearly invite him to the graduation ceremony.
Peter admired his young friend’s eagerness to learn and was very glad he’d thought to read through the books himself through the summer so they could discuss the reading. Stiles was overjoyed with the book written by the spark. He would text Peter and say something like “the spark did this, hey I do that too!” It was adorable and he was grateful for coming across the book, it seemed to be exactly what Stiles needed at this stage of his journey. He’d known Stiles would like it, but it was actually comforting him in an unexpected way. Letting Stiles know he wasn’t weird or wrong or different in a bad way. Stiles admired the man who wrote it and asked Peter to see if he could find any other works by him. Peter already had a lead on two different books that were by the spark and large bids out to try and buy them. He wouldn’t tell Stiles until he had the books in his hands.
Saturday dawned bright and early. Peter had gotten up and dressed carefully, wanting to be casual but attractive. He wore his favorite worn Levi’s that hugged his ass to perfection. He paired it with a light blue button up, two buttons undone and cuffs rolled up to expose his forearms. He found himself wanting to make a good impression on his Stiles. He didn’t care if this would be looked down on by others his age, the idea that Stiles was too young and he wouldn’t have anything truly in common with him. But they had plenty of common interests. Music, books, magic, chess, movies, silly nickname ideas. He secretly loved the nickname game because it was theirs. He knew Stiles was useless before two cups of black coffee. His dad pours him two cups so Stiles can double fist them in the mornings, after the first two, Stiles would add a dollop of hazelnut creamer to savor slowly. Stiles usually ate eggs for breakfast if the sheriff was home to encourage the man to eat healthier. If not, he preferred pop tarts. Though Peter had noticed recently that he was taking better care of himself, drinking more water and going for jogs in the morning. He wondered if it had anything to do with his new and improved physique.
Peter couldn’t help but admire Stiles whenever he texted a picture. If Stiles was pouting, he’d send Peter the corresponding picture. His pouty lips and big eyes would totally melt him if he wasn’t just as stubborn as Stiles. But the boy was beautiful and Peter had taken to admiring them when he was lying in bed before sleeping.
He was definitely gone for Stiles. It had been growing since he joined the pack. He just didn’t realize how much he cared until just before Stiles’ birthday. It was with a sense of relief that Stiles turned eighteen. Peter was glad, he wouldn’t have pursued him if he was underage. His experiences in the supernatural and now, his power and the journey he was taking with it had matured him more than his peers and set him apart from the more vapid life of the American teenager.
Stiles’ texts sometimes had a flirty edge and it gave Peter a reason to hope. He would talk about Peter’s neck or his arms, in teasing, however, he’d noticed Stiles looking at him a little more than usual and his scent had a tinge of sweetness to his natural scent that pointed toward attraction. He just hoped he wasn’t reading into it wrong. Being concerned about it made him even more certain of his true feelings for Stiles. He would never wonder or even care if someone cared about him. Now it took up more of his thoughts than he was prepared for.
He headed out of his house and into the Preserve. Stiles’ house abutted it and made it easy to run to through the forest. He loved the smell of the sun soaking through the leaves and branches. It reminded him of Stiles’ scent, warm and blissful. Peter couldn’t wait for the moment when he could nuzzle that neck and taste the scent on his skin.
Making sure his hair and goatee were unscathed after he ran, he walked the final thirty feet to make sure he wasn’t sweaty. He wouldn’t be, but he was at the point of needing to admit it. He was nervous. Whatever Stiles was going to show him was important and could decide whether Stiles would trust him completely. Peter needed to keep his mind open and his heart ready.
“Right on time,” Stiles said with a smile, opening the back door and leaning against the jamb. “And you look amazing even after having run three miles. But of course, you do. Damn wolves,” He said with a wink. “Come on in, wolfy.”
“Nope, not that one,” Peter said.
“Eh, I wasn’t too excited about that one anyway. I’m still leaning towards Squishy-Wolf.”
“You can lean all you want, as long as you don’t call me that,” Peter said. He still wouldn’t admit that Stiles and his nicknames was adorable and playful and he actually enjoyed it. Not yet.
They walked inside and he greeted the Sheriff. He accepted a cup of coffee as Stiles waved the sheriff off to his job. Finally, Stiles grabbed a duffle bag and they headed out.
They drove south for two and a half hours. Stiles was very nervous, Peter could smell it, if there was another wolf in the car, they’d know that Peter was just as nervous.
“I just want you to keep an open mind,” Stiles said, breaking the silence that had fallen on them, both concerned about the upcoming event.
“I will, sweetheart. I want you to know I’d never judge anything about you. What you do, where you go, how you live. I care about you and I just want you happy. That is what I’m hoping. I’m hoping whatever this is makes you happy and content. You’ve changed a lot over the summer and I think it’s wonderful. I want to be able to support you in whatever you desire to do,” Peter said. He hadn’t meant to give a full-fledged speech, but it was the truth and hopefully it would comfort Stiles.
It did. Stiles scent slowly warmed up, tinged with a deep hope. Peter’s did too.
“We’re getting close. You’ll understand as soon as we pull up. I just… Can you let me show you something before you give me your opinion?” Stiles asked, anxiety bleeding through his words.
“Of course, Stiles, whatever you need. Look, I’m not McCall or Derek or any of those others. I’m Peter. Your friend and confidant and a card waving fan of all things Stiles. I won’t say anything until after you’ve shown me what you need to. I’ll be right here, heart and mind open, okay?” He hoped Stiles heard his sincerity.
With nothing to base a guess on, Peter was clueless about where they would end up. Pulling to a stop in front of a dance studio would never have been on his radar.
Stiles’ eyes were on him immediately after he turned the jeep off.
Peter just smiled at him, curious to see what was going to happen. “Shall we?”
It was the right reaction because Stiles deflated with a small smile and nodded. “Let’s.”
They walked inside and Stiles waved at a curly haired receptionist who waved back with a smile. “Room four, Stiles.”
“Thanks Krista,” Stiles said, heading down a large hallway. Stopping at the appointed room, he walked in and turned the lights on. There was a small bench on one end of the room next to a large stereo and Stiles turned to Peter. “You can sit here, I’m gonna change really quick and be back.”
“Sounds good,” Peter said with a smile, taking a seat.
Waiting for Stiles, Peter looked around him, curious about this world that apparently was part of Stiles now. Dancing. Would he be dancing or was this a room to practice his magic? Why did he need to change?
When Stiles came back, he was topless and had a thin pair of black pants on, sitting low on his hips, nearly showing off his v-cut. Peter swallowed hard, glad Stiles didn’t have a wolf’s nose.
Then Stiles blushed and smirked. “Thanks, Peter.”
“For?”
“Your aura says you find me attractive,” Stiles whispered.
“My aura is right,” Peter said. May as well lay that card on the table. “You are stunning, sweetheart.”
“Thanks,” he whispered again, cheeks red.
Peter knew Stiles’ self-esteem was going to be something Peter worked on. Stiles should never question that he was attractive, adorable, beautiful, hot and sexy as hell. Especially now in just the loose pants. Focus, he had to remind himself.
“Okay, so I mentioned before that my aunt set me up with some lacrosse players. Sam, one of the players, was coaching me and commented on how stiff I was and how clumsy I could be. He suggested a dance class and two other players mentioned they had also taken dance classes not only to improve muscle tone, but to learn how to move the body more fluidly. So I did and it helped my game and I slowly got control over my own body and learned how not to flail so much. My aunt knew of this studio from some people in the magic community and here I am,” Stiles said, not making eye contact.
Peter was not okay with that. He stood and walked to Stiles, bringing his chin around so he could see those beautiful eyes.
“I think it’s a fantastic idea and clearly, it did you some good. You’re more confident and sure of yourself and your body. Dancing was what cued your spark?” Peter asked curiously.
“It was more the why I was dancing,” Stiles said quietly, avoiding eye contact. “I guess I opened up my heart a bit and pulled the spark forward and into my spirit.”
Peter raised his chin, forcing those whiskey eyes on him. “Tell me?” he asked gently.
“I was dancing for you,” Stiles whispered, his scent filled with fear and hope and uncertainty.
Stunned, Peter felt tears prick at his eyes. He hadn’t anticipated this. Stiles felt something for him? Much as Peter cared for Stiles it appeared. Stroking his hands down Stiles’ face until he was cupping his jaw. He only had one thing to say.
“Will you dance for me now?” Peter asked, putting every inch of sincerity into his words as he could.
“Are you sure?” Stiles looked hesitant.
Peter leaned toward his ear and whispered. “If I could dance like that, it would be for you.” When Stiles’ eyes widened. Before Stiles could question him, Peter smiled and repeated his request. “Will you dance for me?”
Stiles nodded. “Okay,” he agreed and went to the stereo. He picked a song and with one last shy glance at Peter, he hit play and made his way to the center of the room, folding himself into an alluring line along the floor.
A popular and familiar song began playing, Peter recognized it as ‘You Are The Reason’ by Calum Scott. Knowing the general lyrics, his heart beginning to pound.
Then Stiles began dancing.
Stiles moved slowly, arms and legs moving smoothly as he dipped and swayed to the music. Peter knew enough about dance to recognize the contemporary style. Stiles’ lines were perfection, a leap had his legs separating into splits, toes pointed, legs perfectly straight. He didn’t land hard, but so light as if he had springs in his feet. Expression serene, Stiles moved back and forth around the room, easily moving from sliding across the floor to spin and twist. The song was background, all his attention was taken up with the beautiful miracle that was Stiles in motion. Peter was covered in goosebumps and he couldn’t help rubbing his arms.
During the second verse of the song, light began streaming around Stiles, like a white ribbon that encircled and lit Stiles up. Peter had a feeling he knew how it looked when Stiles got his powers. Stiles was entrancing and he had such energy in his movements as he did grace and expression. It was the opposite of the flailing Stiles from the beginning of the summer.
As the music swelled toward the ending, Stiles suddenly leapt across the room into a front flip and then began a pirouette in one place, one leg straight out the side, and began rotating, arms out and sparks flying out of his hands. The sparkles flowed across his body, like stars until his entire spinning body was lit up. Peter felt tears stinging his eyes at the sheer beauty.
Stiles slid across the floor as the song ended, in the same position he’d started the dance in.
Peter was on his feet and across the room in an instant, pulling the panting Stiles into his arms. Stiles shuddered and melted into him. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He pulled back to meet Stiles’ shy gaze. “You are a miracle,” Peter whispered fiercely. “Thank you, Stiles, for trusting me with this piece of you. I’m finding it hard to find the words to share what that meant to me. Please, sweetheart, may I kiss you?” He hadn’t intended to even think about kissing yet, but he had to.
“Yes, please,” Stiles whispered so soft only wolf hearing would’ve been able to hear it.
Peter cupped Stiles’ cheeks so gently and moved close to brush his lips against Stiles, feeling like lightning was striking him. Pressing further into Stiles, Peter deepened the kiss, humming when Stiles opened for him and he got to taste Stiles. His body shook with the need and love for this man. There was no denying it.
Light began glowing around them, to the point Peter had to pull out of the kiss to see what was going on. There were the same light ribbons he’d seen in Stiles’ dance. Looking into Stiles’ eyes, he saw they were white again. “A miracle,” he repeated, bringing their lips together once more.
Seconds or years later, Stiles pulled back. Peter opened his eyes to see they were surrounded head-to-toe in white and blue lights. It felt just like Stiles’ energy, but oddly, it felt like him too.
“This is us, Peter. This is the magic we make together,” Stiles told him shyly. “My aunt told me this happened when she met my uncle.”
“It’s stunning, your magic is as stunning as are you. Thank you from the depths of my unworthy soul for showing and trusting me with this,” Peter told him, leaning toward him and planting a soft, worshipping kiss on his plush lips.
“Thank you for not judging me. I should’ve known you wouldn’t, but I was just so afraid,” Stiles said, his white eyes glued on Peter.
“I get it, this is like letting someone inside you, see your innermost parts,” Peter told him, wrapping his arms around Stiles, running his hands up and down his low back, keeping his thoughts on the shared affection and not the effect Stiles’ body was having on him.
“That’s exactly it,” Stiles said, smiling, joy finally filling his gaze.
“I am enchanted by your innermost parts,” Peter said.
He and Stiles looked at each other before cracking up. “That sounds odd,” Stiles said.
“Agreed,” Peter chuckled. “Will you dance with me, Stiles?” Peter asked with a grin, already knowing what Stiles would say.
“You said you couldn’t dance!” Stiles accused, eyes blinking from white back to his warm cinnamon eyes.
Peter chuckled and shook his head and walked away. “No, I said if I could dance like you, I would. I never said I couldn’t dance,” Peter said, programming a song into the stereo. Then stripping out of his sneakers and socks. The shoes wouldn’t let him slide as he needed to. Besides, Stiles was barefoot too, he’d hate to step on his toes.
Approaching Stiles, he held his hand out and asked again. “Dance with me?”
“I’d be honored,” Stiles said, placing his hand in Peter’s.
The haunting strains of Lo-Fang’s cover of ‘You’re the One That I Want’ began playing, the slow, sensual music filling the room.
Peter knew Stiles would be surprised when he pulled him close and moved into the steps of a waltz. Stiles had enough experience in dance to be able to follow his partner as Peter led him through the dance. He put his all into making his movements graceful, his frame powerful to support Stiles’ as they swept across the floor, dipping and swaying through the moves. The waltz to the sensuous beat of the song lit them both up.
Unexpectedly, Stiles stopped and pulled Peter to him, slamming their lips together and thrusting his tongue into Peter’s mouth, tasting him, both of them nearly exploding with the passion they’d built through their relationship and the dances. Stiles pushed him into a wall and thrust his hands into Peter’s hair, pulling his head to the side to kiss him deeper.
Peter then spun them to push Stiles into the wall, grinding his hips into him. Stiles gasped and moaned into the kiss as he pushed back into Peter.
A sudden knock sounded at the door before a voice called, “Five minutes, Stiles!”
Stiles had to clear his throat. “Thanks Krista!”
Peter tilted their foreheads together. “Probably a good thing or I might have taken you right here.”
Stiles chuckled and shuddered. “What if I wanted to be the one taking you right here?”
“Sounds good to me,” Peter said honestly. He would take and be taken by his boy. “Be mine, Stiles.” He’d intended something more suave or romantic, but he didn’t regret it.
Stiles lit up with a smile. “Really?” At Peter’s nod, he grinned. “Yes, my wolf, I will be yours.”
Peter gave him a warm kiss, soft and tender, trying to convey what he meant to Peter. “Now that’s a nickname I can get behind.”
“My wolf, I can deal with that,” Stiles said with a shrug and a happy smile.
When they got into the jeep and pulled away from the studio, Stiles looked at him, a wicked expression in his eyes. “I’m still gonna call you Squishy-wolf. Or maybe Smoochie-wolf since we’re kissing now,” Stiles said, laughing at Peter’s put-upon groan. “Or maybe we drop the wolf part altogether, it is rather obvious. Maybe Hunk Monkey, huh?”
Peter leaned his head back against the seat, shaking his head. “Oh hell no.”
“Captain Cutie? Pookie? Schmoopsie Poo? Lieutenant Hottie? My sweet lil Tator Tot?”
“Please, for the love of the Mother, please stop,” Peter said, though he was laughing too hard to make it a legitimate complaint.
“Bae? McDreamy? McSteamy? Captain Hottie Pants? Randy Romeo?” At Peter’s squawk, Stiles nodded. “Agreed, even I can’t back that one. How about Sir Loves A Lot?”
“Nope. I already have my nickname,” Peter told him.
“Baby Boo? Honey Bunny? Cutie Patootie? My little Potatuh Cake?”
“Just drive, Stiles,” Peter said, trying to stop laughing.
“Okay, my wolf,” Stiles said.
“Thank you. Can we stop somewhere to eat?” Peter asked him.
“Sure thing, my little Hunka Hunka Burning Love.”