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Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Snow Storms and Fanboy Fever || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Snow Storms and Fanboy Fever – Stiles Summer Stories 2025

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, alternate universe, author Chris, fluff

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale

Writer's Month 2025 Prompt: book + cabin

Summary: During a snow storm, Stiles seeks shelter at a nearby cabin. The cabin is owned by his favorite author. Chris is dealing with a bad writer's block and his husband Peter suggested the cabin retreat. The snow storm chasing a new muse into his life is a happy coincident.

Snow Storms and Fanboy Fever

Stiles Summer Stories 2025

The night was serene and nice. There was a light chill in the air that was more refreshing than upsetting. The moon was full enough to light up the dark, even more so because it reflected off the blanket of snow all around him. Stiles took a moment to breathe in the fresh mountain air and take in the scenery. It was beautiful, all the dark trees dusted in snow, he could even see a frozen creek.

This wasn't so bad, right? The weather was good enough and it was bright enough, thanks to the snow and the moon, that he would be able to make the, what, forty minute hike down to the tiny little touristy town. He cuddled more into his thick jacket, put on the red beanie he'd gotten from Kira, locked the Jeep and started walking.

The plan had been for him to reach the town, with his Jeep, find a nice inn and maybe check in for a couple days or a week. The beauty of a road-trip without a fixed plan or destination was that he could just improvise. The downside was when his Jeep decided to die in the middle of a winding mountain road. At least he'd been able to push her to the side of the road so she wouldn't block the street. And at least the night was nice.

He changed his mind on that last one ten minutes later when it started snowing. At first, it was fine. Sure, he'd prefer if it didn't, but he could still walk without a problem. Another ten minutes later saw the wind and snow pick up drastically. Stiles' cheeks were bitten from the cold and he struggled to walk against the wind. The road was lonely, not a single car had passed him so far, and he knew he had about half an hour left to walk – he'd barely made progress in the past ten minutes and he feared the half hour would be more like one to two hours in that weather.

He rubbed his hands together, desperate and maybe slightly afraid to be lost in the storm. Where he'd been able to clearly see the road – the snow melted away by all the cars – there was no road anymore. He was just vaguely guessing where he was going, the trees on one side of him and the cliff on the other. The snow storm was getting bad, really bad, and he grew doubtful whether he'd even make it to the town. He had already slipped twice on the ground and due to the strong wind.

He paused when something caught his eye. Off the road to the right, farther up but not too far up, he vaguely saw light through the snow. There were occasional lone cabins in these woods, hunters and skiing enthusiasts alike owned or rented them in the respective seasons. Was he actually lucky enough that there was a cabin nearby and it was actively lived in right now?

"Please don't be an axe murderer, please don't be an axe murderer," Stiles chanted as he changed courses and walked toward the light. "Actually, at this point, I wouldn't even mind, as long as I got killed in the warmth…"

He reached the cabin. It looked fancy, two stories, elegant stone with a big porch, a smoking chimney, light flooding out through the windows. Breathing deep, Stiles raised a hand to knock. And then he held his breath and hoped that the owner won't think he was an axe murderer.

When a very handsome man with a silver-streaked beard, hard steel-blue eyes and a rifle in hand opened the door, Stiles froze like a rabbit before the hunter, his eyes widening. Not an axe murderer, then. Preferred a rifle. His heart jumped into his throat.

"…Who are you and what do you want?"

For a long moment, Stiles kept staring at the man and at the rifle, before a second man – gorgeous with a goatee and an obscenely deeply cut v-neck shirt – pushed up against the handsome hunter. There was an amused smirk on the second man's lips.

"Dear, put the gun down, you're scaring the poor thing," the second man chided. "Look at him, he's staring at you like Bambi at the hunter. What can we do for you, Bambi?"

"My car broke down and I wanted to walk to town, but then the snow storm hit and I'm fairly sure I'll be a frozen popsicle before I'll reach it and then I saw the light from your cabin and I had hoped that I could maybe wait out the storm at your place," Stiles eyes landed on the rifle again, even though the man had lowered it. "But it's okay, I can totally be back on my way!"

He jerked a hand over his shoulder and took a step back. Before he could make it any farther did the man with the deeply cut shirt reach an arm out – very nice forearms, very strong upper arms that led up to his shoulders and then to a very thick, very nice neck – and grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't be ridiculous, Bambi," the man said. "Come in. Despite his gruff exterior, he wouldn't want to be at fault for you freezing to death. I'm Peter, this is my husband Christopher."

"Chris," the silver fox corrected, though he did look a little flustered. "Come in. Peter's right."

He watched the man put away the rifle and relaxed. He relaxed even more when the door closed behind him. No more snow, no more biting wind. Heaving a sigh, Stiles rubbed his hands together.

"I'm Stiles," Stiles said a little belatedly. "And thank you. I really… If I had seen the storm coming, I wouldn't have left my car. Well… I guess then I would have frozen to death in there, since it broke down and heating broke down with it."

Stiles furrowed his brows at that thought, still rubbing his hands. Peter chuckled amused and put a hand between Stiles' shoulder-blades, giving him a gentle shove toward the stairs.

"You are soaking wet from the snow and freezing cold," Peter pointed out. "Let me show you the bathroom so you can take a hot shower and change into some dry clothes."

"I didn't exactly bring a change of clothes with me," Stiles pointed out.

But looking at the puddle forming around his feet, he did understand why Peter wanted him out of their living room and dry. The man heaved a sigh and gave Stiles another pointed push.

"Don't worry about that, Bambi," Peter assured him. "I'll get you a change of clothes."

Stiles turned and stared at the man with big doe-eyes – and okay, he probably did have big deer in the headlights vibes today, so the Bambi nickname was probably deserved. "You don't have to."

"Very little point in getting you out of the snow storm if we'll let you wait it out cold and soaking wet," Chris commented with a huff. "Go with Peter. I'll heat up some soup for you."

Biting his lower lip, Stiles nodded and accepted the kindness. He was not exactly used to that.

/break\

Peter sat at the kitchen table, an amused smile on his lips as he watched his husband reheat the potato carrot soup they'd had for dinner. Oh, he knew how intimidating the retired hunter could look, especially with a gun in hand. But that wide-eyed look on Bambi's face when he first laid eyes on Christopher had been absolutely delightful. Peter was fairly sure he'd never seen anyone with bigger, prettier doe-eyes before in his life. All flushed cheeks and long lashes. A pretty little thing. His jackrabbit heartbeat and frozen prey reaction were enough to tell Peter that the boy wasn't a threat pretending. He was genuinely lost in the snow storm.

Once Peter let Chris know that, by stepping up to Chris and by inviting the boy in, his husband relaxed too and started to see the pretty prey instead of a potential threat. And now Chris was even making sure the poor thing would get a warm meal in his belly.

"Don't try to use Bambi as a distraction from work," Peter chimed teasingly.

All he got was a grunt from Chris, making Peter smirk. While Chris won't be allowed to be distracted by Bambi, Peter on the other hand – well, Peter was wide open and welcoming of distractions. He'd feared these following two weeks were going to be dreadfully boring for him, since he too wasn't allowed to distract Christopher. And to make matters worse, it was tourist season, which meant he couldn't even run through the forest in full shift undisturbed. Peter preferred when they came to the cabin during off-season, they were far enough away from the town and any other people that it nearly felt like the forest belonged to Peter. Alas, his husband was forcing their hand and here they were, in the middle of skiing season.

"Thank you, I really needed that shower. I feel like a human being again. And I can feel my toes!"

Peter turned toward the voice and then paused. The boy was wearing one of Peter's sweatpants and one of Christopher's warm, thick red flannel shirts. The ones Peter loved to 'borrow' too, hence Chris having multiple ones of them. The boy looked quite lovely, with the big shirt swallowing his hands, cheeks flushed from the hot shower, hair all fluffed up and messy. He was quite lovely, with the bow-shaped lips and those truly captivating doe-eyes.

"Sit down," Chris grunted. "Have some soup. And tea."

Peter couldn't help the small smile as he turned toward Stiles with a mock-whisper. "Don't let the gruff exterior fool you. He made you soup and tea to warm you up, because he's a big softie."

Stiles giggled a little, his cheeks flushing more. "Thank you. Seriously. I don't know what I'd have done if you had sent me away, or wouldn't have been here. Well, if you weren't here, I might have broken in to find shelter…"

Peter chuckled at that. Oh, Bambi was charming. He hoped the storm would last a while so he could get to know the boy a little. He motioned for the boy and Stiles obediently came to sit next to Peter, shuffling his socked feet (Peter had given Stiles a pair of the fluffiest, warmest socks Chris owned).

"You know, when you opened the door with the rifle, I was fairly sure I'd die," Stiles grinned sheepishly when Chris put a bowl of soup in front of him. "Now that the adrenaline faded, I thought about it more and it's honestly kind of funny because it really reminded me of my favorite book."

"Your favorite book is about a pretty boy damsel in distress being threatened by a grumpy hunter?" Peter asked doubtfully. "Sounds like the opening to a porn to me, where Bambi gets ravished on the fur in front of the fireplace…"

Chris shot him an unimpressed look and Stiles blushed. There was, however, also a spike of arousal to the boy's scent and it made Peter's mouth water. Admittedly, the boy's very appealing scent – on top of his pretty face – had been what made Peter open their door to him. Well, he also wasn't enough of a bastard to let the poor boy freeze to death.

"No," Stiles mumbled, cheeks red. "It's about a hiker who is lost in the woods, comes across a cabin and the owner is this really intimidating guy who owns a gun. Now, you only read that from the hiker's perspective and think he's about to be murdered. Before you realize that the guy with the gun is actually also a main character, who was hiding out in the woods investigating a case, because he's a cop. It's a really good book, because there's some awesome twists and the hiker is actually a private investigator who was sent to investigate the same case."

Peter curled a hand over his mouth to keep from laughing. "You read Moonlight Mysteries."

Stiles straightened up and turned impossibly big, sparkling eyes on him. "You know the book! Yes! I love, love, love the series! I've been obsessed since I first read the first book. The author really had me with the suspicion between both of them, it took me half the book to solve it!"

Peter leaned his face against the palm of his hand, with perfect view on both Stiles and Chris. The baffled look on Chris' face was such a joy and the boy's enthusiasm was quite endearing.

"Half the book," Chris muttered stunned.

"Yeah!" Stiles sounded really happy about that. "I mean, granted, from book two on forward it was like a third of the book on average, but that twist with whether or not Detective Doherty and Julian were both good guys or if one was the culprit, the author really knew to keep that going."

"A third," Chris repeated, sounded near offended.

Stiles, nodded while eating some soup, after Peter gently pushed the bowl more toward him. Partially to make the boy eat but also because while Stiles ate, Chris had to wait for the answer. Christopher shot him a deadpan look for it and all Peter did was grin back.

"I really struggle with murder mysteries," Stiles explained. "Usually, I have them figured out within a few pages. Most authors are just so… predictable. Using either a cliche setup, or projecting the culprit so—o hard because they don't want the audience to miss it, or the opposite, they misdirect just cartoonishly overdrawn and that makes the real plot overly obvious too."

Chris nodded slowly. "You're right, that's something that bothers me a lot in mystery books too. But… a third of the book?"

"Solving mysteries is kind of my thing," Stiles shrugged with a small grin. "And the author is really good at setting them up in a way that the clues are there, but there is also enough misdirect to not make it super obvious so you do need a little to figure it out. Plus, the through the roof chemistry between Dylan and Julian and UST helps."

"The what now," Chris cleared his throat.

Stiles furrowed his brows and turned toward Peter. "Has he read the books? Like, you know what I'm talking about, right?"

Just to spite Chris, Peter nodded. "Absolutely. The unresolved sexual tension. When Dylan got shot and Julian considered giving him the bite to save his life?"

"Right!" Stiles actually hopped up and down in excitement. "I mean, he was offering a bite on the wrist, come on! Might have as well proposed on the spot!"

Peter's amusement dimmed a little. How did Stiles know that a bite on the wrist was a mating bite? Chris grew a little wary too. But the boy didn't let that curb his enthusiasm.

"Also, the snark between them is amazing. They bicker like an old married couple," Stiles grinned. "I just really wonder how long the author will draw the reveal out. I mean yeah, sure, it's fun reading about Julian solving all these crimes with the help of his supernatural senses while trying to hide his werewolf nature from Dylan, but… if it goes on too long, Dylan will just look kinda dumb? I mean, they've been partners for nine books now. How can Dylan not see it? Julian constantly scent-marks him and growls at threats. Plus, the healing."

"Scent-marks," Chris repeated with narrowed eyes.

Stiles froze, his eyes widening. "Uhm, I mean, there is a whole lotta touching. Either that's wolfy in nature – I did a lot of research on werewolves, I generally do a lot of research on everything, honestly – or it is gay, as I said earlier."

Peter pursed his lips. Moonlight Mystery was a best-selling book series. Widely beloved by humans for the clever mysteries and by the supernatural world for its authentic and not over the top portrayal of werewolves. To humans, it was just yet another interpretation of werewolves though. But this boy seemed to know a little more than the average human.

"Beside the queer subtext and the mysteries, what do you like most about the books?" Peter asked with a friendly smile, wanting to coax more out of Stiles.

"I mean, even without the queer subtext, the dynamic between Dylan and Julian is amazing. The dry-witted detective who only believes in facts grounded in reality, who wouldn't even consider the supernatural, constantly stumbling into supernatural cases and having a werewolf partner. And it's not even just the werewolf thing that Julian is hiding, it's also the more obvious PI thing! Dylan's near visceral reaction to having a private investigator meddling in his cases is delightful," Stiles paused to take a breath after a very long and excited ramble. "Uhm. I feel like I've been talking nonstop. Sorry. What's your favorite thing about the books?"

Chris looked near smitten after listening to the genuine enthusiasm from the boy and Peter couldn't resist giving a genuine answer. "The author."

Stiles stared at him in confusion for a moment. "I mean, I guess that's one way to look at them. It takes a great mind to come up with these characters and keeping the plot new and exciting each book…"

"Not what I meant," Peter chuckled and reached out to take his husband's hand. "I generally like the author. Sparkling blue eyes, gruff nature and all."

Whiskey-colored eyes narrowed, Stiles' brows furrowed. And only split-seconds later, his eyes widened and his cheeks flushed brightly.

"C. Alexander Valet," Stiles stared at Chris. "C stands for Christopher, I assume."

"C stands for Christopher," Peter confirmed in delight. "And I'm his better half."

Somehow, Stiles' eyes widened even more. "Oh. You're a werewolf."

Peter tilted his head. "Whatever would make you say that. Werewolves are fiction, Bambi."

Snorting softly, Stiles' eyes darted between Chris and Peter. "The information in the books is too accurate at times to be guess-work or thorough research by a human and the auth—Chris has spoken in interviews before about how he based Julian off of his husband. You don't seem like a PI, so I'm assuming he means more in the sense of personality… and werewolf nature. Which would also explain the accurate portrayal; being married to a werewolf certainly gives you an in."

Oh, that boy really was clever. Peter leaned back in his chair and watched Stiles slowly finish his soup. The boy's eyes kept darting back and forth between Chris and Peter at a rapid speed that should have his head spinning.

"And how do you know about werewolves?" Chris asked once Stiles finished his soup.

"Oh. Uhm. My best friend got bitten by a rogue Alpha when we were sixteen? It was kind of a trial and error time while we were in high school, but he established his own pack and things got… calmer," Stiles shrugged a little, his gaze finally settling on Chris. "So you really are the author?"

Chris heaved a sigh and nodded, giving Peter the go-ahead to get up and show the boy. Peter didn't waste a second. He loved showing off about his husband. Getting up, Peter motioned for Stiles to follow him upstairs, to Chris' study. The large, imposing desk with the larger and more imposing bookshelves behind it. Mystery books from all noteworthy authors lined the shelves. In the corner of the office stood a comfortable armchair, right by the window, where Chris particularly liked to write. Opposite it a couch, where Peter liked to lounge while his husband worked. The wall behind the couch was lined with framed movie posters. The first three books had been turned into movies in the 2010s, before they relaunched everything just two years ago to turn it into a TV show. Between the movie posters were framed photos of the cast and director with Chris and Peter.

"Oh my gosh, that's you with Michael Fassbender," Stiles squeaked a little.

"Mh. Not a bad cast for Julian, in my opinion," Peter murmured. "I didn't like the movie cast for Detective Doherty though."

"Are you out of your mind?" Stiles stared at Peter like he had lost his mind. "What is not to like about Tom Hanks? Everybody loves Tom Hanks."

"Peter thinks Tom was too old for the part," Chris supplied, leaning against the door-frame with his arms crossed. "He thinks Dylan should have been played by a younger actor."

"It's how you described him," Peter argued, glaring at his husband. "Early twenties, a new detective who still had to fight for his spot in the precinct. It's part of his character. His age is part of what makes him outstanding. A detective of Tom Hanks' age being a very good detective is just not very special. This was a pure star-appeal cast and not driven by the character."

Stiles furrowed his brows thoughtfully and then gave it a slow nod. "I guess you're right… It does feel more impressive in the TV show, seeing a younger guy fight for his place in the precinct. Plus, the actors' chemistry is through the roof."

"We should watch the movie together," Peter suggested with mischief in his eyes. "The snow storm doesn't look like it's going to ease up any time soon."

Stiles stared sparkly-eyed first at Peter and then at Chris. Those were some very convincing pleading kitten eyes and even Peter's husband caved to them.

/break\

Chris couldn't believe they ended up hosting a pretty boy who might just be Chris' biggest fan. The boy's enthusiasm for Chris' work was contagious. He'd been struggling with the tenth book, feeling like everything he said had already been said, like he was going in circles, like nothing was good enough to actually put on paper. That was why they were out in their mountain cabin. No internet, no distraction, just Chris and his laptop that had absolutely nothing else installed aside from his writing program. They'd been here for three days and Chris wrote precisely thirty-four words, of which he had deleted sixteen again. He was blocked badly.

And then a snow storm brought Stiles into their life. The animated way in which Stiles talked about the characters, the plot, the mysteries – oh, it actually reignited Chris' own love for it. Dylan and Julian had mostly tormented him in these past months, because he seemed unable to write about them. But when Stiles spoke of Dylan's clever mind and Julian's ruthless and efficient nature, Chris himself felt excited about them again.

They watched the first movie in the evening, Stiles giving a running commentary on what he thought the movie did well and what he thought it lacked. Afterward, Chris got roped into listening to Stiles and Peter debate the movie versus the first season of the TV show and their debate alone gave Chris three new ideas.

During breakfast the next day, the two were discussing book five, which had been somewhat controversial for introducing Julian's long-lost daughter he never knew about, conceived with a manipulative femme fatale character who kept the girl from her father.

"No, I totally adore Parker, she was a great addition to the line-up," Stiles argued over hot chocolate and cookies, sitting curled together on the fur rug in front of the fireplace and looking up at Chris and Peter on the couch. "I just think that her romance with Dylan was a bit… rushed? They met under very traumatizing circumstances and it's clear that that is what made them seek each other out. It was never meant to last. And, again, I think that Dylan should get to kiss Julian."

"That's what I've been saying," Peter agreed, shooting Chris a look.

"Maybe I want things between Julian and Dylan to be more messy," Chris huffed.

"Hah!" Stiles pointed at him excitedly. "So you finally admit there is something between them!"

"I'm a gay man, Stiles. I didn't accidentally queer-code the relationship between my two male leads," Chris offered Stiles a sparkly-eyed grin, before frowning. "I'm just… stuck."

There was a beat of silence. "Oh my gosh, is this whole thing here like a 'force the writer to write' retreat? …Are you having a writer's block?"

Chris nodded. "I guess so. You are right, it's been nine books, the dancing around each other has to come to an end. But every time I write it, it feels… off. I don't know how to bring it home."

That was something he had never admitted to anyone aside from Peter. He didn't even know Stiles, he'd met the boy less than a day ago. But Stiles' energy, his enthusiasm and his love for Chris' work, it had immediately endeared Chris to him.

"I'm sure you'll figure it out," Stiles smiled at him and it was so warm and reassuring, for a moment Chris believed his words. "You wrote eight amazing books, you'll manage another one."

For a moment, Chris smiled, before he frowned. "Wait, eight. Which one didn't you like?"

Stiles cackled and ducked his head. "I mean, not all of them can be homeruns, you know. I just kind of didn't vibe with Dark Druid in the Daylight. It felt… convoluted. We got this crime syndicate as the main villains, seemingly, but parallel running the Darach and I kept thinking 'oh, this is going to be a devastating twist' because I was so sure that the pathologist was set up as the Darach and with his personal connection to Dylan and the precinct – being like a father-figure to Dylan's former partner and best friend – that could have hit real hard. Instead it was the newly introduced femme fatale. And her motivation being linked to the crime syndicate was just… It didn't connect for me, you know?"

"I told him something similar," Peter agreed smugly. "I thought they should have been two separate books, to allow proper focus on each overarching plot. Or they should have been tied together more neatly. If the Darach had turned out to be the druid working with the syndicate, making the human sacrifices to strengthen herself and act against the syndicate. Instead, it was a typical woman scorned plot, but scorned by minor characters from the syndicate and just…"

Peter waved a dismissive hand. Chris shot him a glare. He knew exactly what Peter's opinion on the matter was. Hell, Chris would have left Viv's character alive if not for Peter's great distaste for her, so Chris had changed the ending to let Julian rip out her throat in retaliation. It had somewhat appeased his husband.

"Everybody is a critic," Chris grumbled softly.

He startled when there was a hand on his knee and when he looked down, Stiles had scooted closer on the floor and was resting a hand and his chin on Chris' leg, staring up at him with those pretty doe-eyes. Chris swallowed hard.

"You wrote eight great books, that's more than most people can say about themselves," Stiles assured him again, offering one more of these motivating smiles.

Peter hummed his agreement and draped himself over Chris' shoulder. "He's right, dear. And I'm sure that you being too hard on yourself is precisely where this writer's block comes from."

Chris heaved a sigh and leaned back on the couch. "What about you, Stiles?"

"I also think you are too hard on yourself," Stiles agreed.

It made Chris chuckle softly. "I meant more generally what about you. We've been talking about my job… a lot… since you got here last night. What do you do, when you're not getting yourself stuck in a blizzard?"

"Oh," Stiles blinked repeatedly. "I'm a librarian, actually. Or, uh, a soon-to-be librarian, I guess. Currently in a vicious battle with my Master thesis and since it looks like it's winning, my dad suggested I take a break and get some fresh air. I figured I'd use the winter break for a little road trip, visited my home town over Christmas and thought I'd get some skiing done here now, to relax and find… heh, find a way out of my own writer's block, I guess."

"Skiing to get a clear head. Interesting approach," Peter was spotting a teasing grin.

Chris hummed his agreement but his focus had wandered to the window. The sky was clear, the winds were calm. The stormy had ended some time around one or two AM. His eyes went back to look at Stiles. The boy who was only with them to hide from the weather.

"We have to do a grocery run anyway. How about we give you a lift to town?"

Stiles' face fell before he forced a smile. "Oh. Right. Yeah. Thanks! That's really nice of you."

At least Chris wasn't alone in wanting to keep Stiles. Part of Stiles wanted to be kept too. But it was silly. Ridiculous, really. They'd only met yesterday. Stiles had his own life to return to.

/break\

Stiles never imagined meeting his favorite author. Much less sitting on his couch and bickering about the movie adaptations with the man's husband. He may have had a crush on the man's mind, but now that he knew what the man looked like – he was very secretive, never posting pictures, never doing live interviews – Stiles might have a full on crush.

However, the next day, after the blizzard, Chris and Peter had dropped Stiles off in town. Stiles checked in at a local inn and informed the mechanic of where his Jeep was stranded. That first day in town, Stiles spent curled together on the bed in his room at the inn, rewatching Moonlight Mysteries season one and thinking about Peter and Chris while still wearing Chris' shirt, nose buried in the collar and inhaling the man's scent of Old Spice and gun oil.

The next day, Stiles actually went skiing and the physical exercise did help. His brain had an easier time relaxing when he was physically exhausted. The thrill also helped. When he got back to his room in the evening, he returned his Moonlight Mysteries rewatch.

His thoughts kept circling to Chris and Peter to a degree that was honestly embarrassing. Until, four days into his stay, he ran into them at the grocery store in the bread aisle. He just stood there, staring a little dumbly at the husbands because he hadn't expected them.

"Mh, is this one also on sale, Christopher?" Peter asked, dragging his eyes over Stiles. "Because I think we should get you one of those."

Stiles squeaked, mostly because he didn't know how else to respond to that. Chris looked mildly embarrassed and majorly annoyed before he looked at Stiles with an apologetic smile.

"Please don't mind him, he's in a mood," Chris requested. "How is your vacation going?"

"Great," Stiles grinned broadly at the author. "I've gotten some skiing in, even some ice-skating. And yesterday, I wrote a whole section of my thesis."

"Congrats," Chris smiled, looking genuinely proud and clasped a hand on his shoulder.

"How about you come home with us? Bring your laptop, work on your thesis."

Stiles blinked in surprise at Peter. "What. I… What."

"Peter," Chris started in warning, just to have Peter push between Chris and Stiles.

"Nope. He's the first thing that's worked in ten months, Christopher, I am putting my foot down," Peter glared at his husband before he turned to smile at Stiles. "I will literally pay you to just be in our house, Bambi. Christopher's publisher might kiss your feet."

"Not my kink," Stiles muttered beneath his breath, earning a snort from the werewolf. "What are you talking about? What is going on?"

"You see, sweetheart," Peter wrapped an arm around Stiles' shoulders. "After we dropped you off in town, when we got back home, Christopher sat down in front of his laptop and wrote ten pages without a break. That's more than he has written in the entire past half year. And the day after, seven more pages. But with every day, productivity dropped."

All Stiles managed was to blink in surprise, eyes darting between the married couple. "What."

"Darling, do I have to spell it out for you?" Peter raised his eyebrows. "You're my husband's new muse. You injected him with love for his own story again in a way everybody else has been struggling with for months. And believe me, me and the kids have tried everything. Four months ago, I took him to Paris, figured the romantic getaway would recharge him, France would give him that nostalgic boost. Nothing works. But one enthusiastic, pretty fanboy and he's writing again."

A blush lit up Stiles' face and he looked doubtfully at Chris, who was spotting a matching blush, scratching one red cheek in embarrassment and not meeting Stiles' eyes. Holy shit had Stiles actually become his favorite author's muse? His heart started racing. And then he looked back at the man's husband, torn between confusion and guilt. Peter smirked knowingly.

"I'm not jealous, Bambi," Peter assured him. "Being his muse doesn't have to be about that. Sure, I inspired the books and was his first muse. But where he finds inspiration can vary. The fourth book? The Japanese angle and kitsune plotline were inspired by our favorite sushi restaurant. He actually ended up having the family that runs the place consult him on cultural aspects."

Right. Now Stiles blushed in embarrassment. How stupid of him to think that would mean-

"That's not saying you wouldn't look lovely in our bed," Peter interrupted his thoughts with a small smile. "Don't spiral like that, I don't like the scent of it. I simply meant to clarify that inviting you as his muse is not a come on to you, I really did mean you can just sit there and do your own work. But… if you want it to be more… we could see where things take us."

Stiles raised his eyes and stared at the married couple with his mouth open. Both looked back at him dark-eyed and he quickly closed his mouth flustered. This was mildly overwhelming. His author crush had picked him as his muse and now the man's husband was… flirting with him?

"I, uh, I have to get my laptop," Stiles jerked a finger over his shoulder. "From the inn?"

Chris looked at him hopefully and Peter's face brightened as both agreed to finish shopping and then drive him to the inn to grab his things. This was really happening. He was going home with his favorite author to play muse and maybe hook up with them?

/break\

Stiles was sprawled out on their bed, laying over Peter's lap, with the wolf running clawed fingers through his hair while Stiles turned the pages and read Snow Storm in Summer, the tenth book in the Moonlight Mysteries series. He hummed and sucked the red pen into his mouth before gasping.

"What?" Chris asked tensely. "Was that a good gasp or a bad gasp? Peter, what does he smell like?"

Stiles grunted softly and Peter corrected interpreted that by throwing a pillow at Chris. "Sh, don't distract him from reading. And go back to reading yourself. You promised to proof-read his Master thesis, Christopher. Concentrate on that and let our boy read the draft of the book."

Chris grumbled but he did return his attention to Stiles' thesis. When he arrived at their house in LA, he had been bouncing on the balls of his feet, thrusting the printed version of his Master thesis at Chris even before he got a kiss from his boyfriend. Chris did accept the paper and then pulled Stiles into a proper kiss and oh right, he hadn't seen his boyfriends in a month, fully fallen into a rabbit-hole of actually finishing his thesis, which meant no distracting hot boyfriends. Now that he was finished, he could have Peter and Chris time though. And when he got into their house, Chris actually confessed to having finished the book and asked if Stiles maybe wanted to read the first draft. Stiles had not left their bed since that offer, not for the usual reasons though.

Over the past three months, things between them had developed from a muse and author and author's husband relationship into just a relationship. There had been some lazy kissing and making out during that week in the mountains, but it had felt casual. It grew less casual the more often Peter and Chris dropped by in San Francisco to see him, take him on dates and kiss him until he couldn't breath or think anymore. Sometimes, it still felt unreal to Stiles. This was C. Alexander Valet. Only that he wasn't, he was just Chris. The cute, grumpy author who made a really mean quiche and argued with his husband in the kitchen and whose beard felt so good scratching over Stiles' skin.

"Ah!" Stiles squeaked and sat up. "Oh my gosh! Peter! Peter!"

He slapped Peter's chest in excitement, pointing at the page with his free hand. Peter glanced at the document and smiled knowingly when he saw what scene Stiles was on. More squeaking followed.

"They kissed!" Stiles actually jumped on the bed. "Ten books in and they finally kissed, oh my gosh, I can't believe you needed to memory wipe the world of their existence to finally make them kiss! What the hell this is amazing. Nobody remembering them and them stuck bringing themselves back? I love it, holy shit! This is the best book in the series!"

Stiles slapped Peter again on the chest before he rushed over to kiss Chris, slow and deep.

~*~ The End ~*~