Chapter Text
Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Hanging On by a Single Bond || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf
Title: Hanging On by a Single Bond – Steter Secret Santa Exchange 2024
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, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, the Hale Pack Moves to London, Pack Alpha Peter, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, Spark Stiles, post-Nogitsune, hurt/comfort, fluff, f/f, m/f
Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles
Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Malia/Kira
Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura
Summary: Stiles' way of dealing with his own pain and grief had always been to instead take care of others. After Gerard, the Hale Pack becomes his pet-project. That includes self-proclaimed lone wolf Peter. Then things get messy. The Hale Pack seemingly ends when Derek gives up the Alpha spark, the McCall Pack forms, Stiles gets possessed. And, confusingly enough, Peter takes care of him.
Hanging On by a Single Bond
Steter Secret Santa Exchange 2024
Chapter 1: One Single Bond
Peter had nothing left in this world but his fascinating, clever boy.
He'd survived the fire, survived the coma, killed his own niece (traitor, bad Alpha who had abandoned him, abandoned a pack-mate in need), cared for nothing but vengeance and left carnage and bodies in his wake. He hadn't cared for anything, not even his own safety. If he'd get put down at the end of it, killed by the Argents or someone else, it wouldn't matter, as long as he got to finish the job. He just needed to kill Kate Argent and everyone else involved in the fire first.
And then there was this boy. This clever, brilliant boy, who'd figured out who was behind the Hale Fire when nobody else, none of the cops, had figured it out. The boy who'd yelled at the monstrous Alpha in the school, braver than a breakable human had any right to be. The first thing to fascinate him since the fire, the first distraction from his vengeance. When he stood opposite Stiles in the hospital and the boy figured it out, figured out that Peter was the Alpha, Peter knew he needed to have this boy in his pack. For the first time, Peter found himself wanting something aside from his vengeance. Even the pack – convincing Derek, biting Scott (the greatest mistake of Peter's life), those weren't things he wanted, he needed the strength that the pack-bonds would give him. But Stiles? Stiles was not needed necessarily, but he was wanted.
With that one snarky boy, the plan changed. Peter's life was no longer disposable, it no longer didn't matter what happened to him after he got his revenge. He wanted a pack, a real pack, and he wanted to build it around himself and his clever boy. The boy who had taught a newly bitten wolf how to control himself, taught him about anchors, a boy who could navigate the supernatural world with instincts that spoke of someone who was beyond human himself. That was when the Banshee became interesting to Peter, because she was a means to guarantee he'd be able to escape whatever punishment the Argents would rain down on him for inevitably killing Kate.
When he took his boy, after giving the Banshee the bite that'd activate her powers, the plan only further cemented itself in Peter's mind. Snarky little thing, even when his pulse gave away how afraid he was, he still talked back at Peter and quipped. Peter offered Stiles the bite and though it would have been so easy to force it on the boy when he said no, Peter didn't. He wanted the boy to willingly join his pack. If that'd take longer, if he'd have to work for it? Stiles would be worth it.
Peter was very grateful to his own foresight in regards to the Banshee, the moment Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail. Not the one he'd expected deadly vengeance from. He was also grateful that he hadn't tried to force the bite onto his boy, because Stiles would have used his own claws to tear out Peter's throat. Truly, a ruthless little thing, holding Peter's gaze as he set him on fire, which was all the more vindictive of him. Part of Peter appreciated the painful irony of his execution, impressed and in awe at how wicked his boy was, how much darkness was lurking in his heart.
/break\
By the time the lovely Miss Martin helped Peter back to the land of the living, Derek had gathered a sad excuse for a pack. Three betas, of whom two literally ran away from him the day Peter got back to the living. Scott betrayed Derek in a truly remarkably devious manner (and Peter might have been impressed by it, had Scott not immediately ruined it by trailing the Argent girl like a love-sick puppy). Lydia and Jackson were kissing like the whole world had faded from existence, Derek and his beta sulked off together. Until the only people left in the warehouse were Peter and Stiles.
"I may not have all that much experience with murder, but it is somewhat unsatisfying to see it not stick," Stiles' voice was flat as he stared at Peter. "Why are you alive."
A wicked smile spread over Peter's lips. "I came back to see what you'd do next, after setting the survivor of a devastating fire on fire. Darling, your ruthlessness is positively intriguing."
"You are… so weird," Stiles blinked repeatedly. "Also creepy. Stop smiling like that, I killed you."
"Helped," Peter corrected. "You helped kill me. You didn't deliver the final blow."
"No, your nephew did that," Stiles snorted sardonically. "Your family is seriously fucked up."
Peter couldn't argue with that. Instead, he let his eyes drag over Stiles' body, taking in all the injuries. The visible ones – bruised and bloodied side of his face, split lip – but also the more subtle ones – the way Stiles favored one side over the other, breathed shallow and held his side. The scent of pain and loneliness was accompanied with a note of Argent.
"Who," Peter asked, voice low and dangerous. "Do we tear apart for all of this?"
He ran a gentle hand down the bruised side of Stiles' face, causing the boy to scrunch up his nose in a cute way. "Stop it, bad touch wolf. And 'we' aren't tearing anybody apart."
"Fine," Peter smiled indulgently. "I'll sit by and watch you work, then. See what it's like when you actually finish the job yourself, mh? I'm sure it will be glorious."
Stiles climbed into his Jeep, staring at Peter warily. "Why are you still here. Go follow your pack."
"Not my pack, not my problem," Peter shrugged carelessly and climbed into the passenger seat. "Like I told you, I came back to see what you'll do next. You're interesting, Stiles. The first interesting thing I encountered since the fire and I do want to see what's next for you."
"...So you're not here to kill me for helping murder you?" Stiles asked, mildly surprised.
"Oh, no," Peter shrugged, making a dismissive hand-gesture. "You killed me to avenge your pack, that's a motivation I can respect, darling. You don't have to fear anything from me."
He flashed a smile with too many teeth and his electric-blue beta eyes at the boy. Stiles made a soft noise, tilting his head. His full focus was on Peter now, more intense than before. No longer guarded to watch what Peter would do but rather trying to dissect him. Being the center of that laser-like focus was thrilling and Peter hoped he'd stay interesting enough to keep it.
"Your eyes are blue," Stiles noted, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on. "Is that a genetic thing? You and Derek are the only ones with blue eyes, so… Hale trait? Or is it because you're both born wolves? Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Erica have golden eyes and are bitten."
Mh, Peter loved that quick mind. Stiles had dismissed his earlier worries when he'd come to the conclusion that Peter wasn't currently a threat and instead, his mind had latched onto a new mystery to solve. A pleased smile spread over Peter's lips as he leaned back and relaxed.
"Neither," Peter chuckled, flashing his eyes deliberately once more.
For a long moment, Stiles stared at him, before frowning. "Well, are you going to tell me?"
"Mh," Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "No. I wouldn't want you to grow bored with me too quickly, darling. I have to keep some mysteries. Now, will you tell me where we're driving? Are you going to dispose of the one who did this to you…?"
Stiles started the Jeep, eyebrows furrowed deep as he shook his head. "I'll have to prioritize. Gerard is currently poisoned and on his way to a slow, cruel death anyway. I have more pressing matters than to go after a dying man. Do you want me to like drop you off somewhere?"
Stiles raised both eyebrows at him and gave him a very incredulous look to drive home how ridiculous he found Peter. It delighted the wolf. Not even a hint of fear. All alone in a car with a formerly insane predator and killer and the boy complained to him. So much spirit.
"No, I'm quite fine tagging along with you, I have no other plans," Peter said dismissively.
For a second, Stiles pinned him with a glare before he drove off. "Okay, fine. If you insist on being a nuisance, you're going to help me. Gerard didn't just have me, he had Boyd and Erica too. When they dragged me out of the basement, the two were still there. We're going back to the Argents."
Peter pursed his lips, curious. Somehow, he doubted his dear nephew was out on the hunt for his wayward betas, yet Stiles' face was set in the tight, righteous anger of someone set to avenge their pack. Peter knew that look from his own face. Yes, his clever boy was going to keep him on his toes, one surprise after the other. He smiled pleased as he watched Stiles. He'd made the right decision, coming back from the dead. His boy was going to keep things interesting.
/break\
Derek wasn't Peter's Alpha. Not really. Peter was on the fringe of Derek's pack, clinging onto it by proving his usefulness. And tracking down Boyd and Erica in the woods with Stiles had been the first step in that. He honestly didn't know if Derek would have kept him around otherwise.
The relationship Boyd and Erica had with their Alpha was similarly strained though. They'd run away for a reason, after all. Peter and Stiles bringing them back to Beacon Hills didn't magically fix those issues, though the berating Stiles gave them when he drove them back home must have gotten through enough to keep them from trying and running again ('You are two packless betas, no Alpha and no pack to run toward either. You're minors with no disposable income. Your parents are looking for you. Stop being stupid and go back home.').
For reasons Peter couldn't entirely pinpoint, Stiles had decided to make the Hale Pack a pet-project of his. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth though, because he got to see his boy a lot over the summer while Stiles put his foot down and forced Derek to whip his pack at least somewhat into shape. Boyd, Erica, Isaac and the newest addition, Jackson.
Derek bought a loft, where him and Isaac moved in and where the pack met at least once a week. Every other day, they met in the Preserve for training, where Derek and Peter taught the betas how to fight and how to control themselves, after Peter was shocked to learn of Derek's training methods ('You used… torture devices on them? Did you forget about the talisman your mother used to teach you?'). And Stiles would be right there with them, supervising and glaring down their Alpha.
It was unorthodox, so it took Peter a few weeks to realize why Stiles had made them their project, why Stiles could glare Derek down like that without receiving bodily harm. Somehow, while Peter had been dead, Stiles had become Pack Mom of the Hale Pack. Most traditionally, the Pack Mom was the Alpha Mate – a much more official title, 'Pack Mom' was what the pups of a pack would refer to them as, however considering that there was nothing sexual or romantic going on between Derek and Stiles, the boy was not the Alpha Mate, so Peter used the more childish term as a distinction here (and he was quite relieved to realize that there was nothing going on between his nephew and Stiles. Stiles was his and he'd hate to tear his nephew's throat out).
Peter was fairly sure that Derek hadn't realized it either, the Alpha looked mostly annoyed and maybe even a little confused every time he listened to one of Stiles' suggestions (and 'suggestion' was a very tame term for the snarky half-orders the human boy gave). And though Boyd and Erica had stayed in Beacon Hills, Peter could tell that what kept them there were their bonds with Stiles, not their loyalty to their Alpha. Something that Peter could wholeheartedly relate to.
He was more or less being tolerated by Derek. Laura's death still loomed between them and… Peter couldn't even blame Derek for the resentment. Yet at the same time, Peter also had no intention to grovel and beg for forgiveness. He was by technicality part of the pack, so he wasn't at risk of going feral again, and he had one bond, that was all he needed. It was more than he'd expected, really.
Going with Stiles, that fateful night, to the Argents, where Boyd and Erica were no longer being held, but where their scent had lingered enough that Peter could track them down on foot with Stiles at his side, it had gone a long way in his relationship with Stiles. Whether Stiles was aware of it or not, the moment the two of them found Boyd and Erica in the woods, a bond formed between Peter and Stiles. Stiles had claimed Peter as one of his, possessive and determined and it had taken Peter's breath away to feel a real pack-bond, the first real pack-bond since the fire, snap into place.
Now, Peter understood. As Pack Mom, Stiles could tie himself to other pack-members in a stronger and firmer way than regular pack-bonds between betas; it was the second highest rank in a pack, after the Alpha. That realization had made Peter feel giddy in a way he hadn't since childhood.
When these pieces fell into place, Peter knew that Stiles would be worth the wait. Peter could not rush this, but he would have his boy. He would reclaim his Alpha-hood and Stiles would be his Alpha Mate, claim the title he should have to go with his role.
The biggest obstacle for that was Derek. Killing Derek was out of the question. Stiles and Derek weren't mates, but they still had a strong pack-bond and Stiles did consider Derek one of his. Which meant that killing Derek would upset Stiles (and Peter would prefer to not be set on fire again). Also, Peter would rather not kill his last remaining family if it could be avoided. So his plan would have to be a game of patience, until the opportunity arose to become an Alpha again and until he had gained enough of Stiles' trust to make the boy accept his courting.
"Stop scheming and pay attention," Stiles heaved a sigh, kicking Peter's leg.
Peter startled out of his thoughts and looked at the boy who had walked over to him with two plates. He handed one to Peter and then sat down next to him. So close that Peter could feel the warmth radiating off the boy and it sent a shudder down the wolf's spine. His leg tingled where Stiles had kicked it. Stiles gave him a weird look but started eating.
"What were you scheming?" Stiles asked with a mouthful of pasta.
Erica had gotten to pick the meal today. For pack meetings, they always cooked together, though Stiles commandeered the kitchen, while everyone else followed his instructions. Derek couldn't cook to save his life and Peter had no interest in trying to reign in the wild pups. His eyes wandered over to the rest of the pack. Derek sat on the arm-chair, eating quietly. Boyd and Erica were cuddled up to each other, the mated pair was rarely found apart ever since their rescue. While Boyd was talking to Isaac about some video game, Erica and Jackson were heatedly arguing. Which, in a more recent development, didn't end in claws and fangs anymore. The two had somehow become friends.
"Just thinking about the future, darling," Peter chimed in a fake chipper voice.
"That is so creepy, don't do that," Stiles wiggled his nose. "No murders in your future, right?"
A sharp grin pulled on his lips. "None that you would mind, I assure you."
Stiles heaved a sigh and shook his head, instead focusing on his food. It happened gradually, that the two scooted closer, until Stiles was a warm line pressed against Peter's side and it made Peter's breath hitch. His clever boy had been doing this more and more lately, casual and near inconspicuously, seeking out Peter and touching him one way or another.
"What," Peter cleared his throat. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"
Stiles looked up at him, blinking those big doe-eyes of his at Peter. "You're a wolf."
"Yes," Peter nodded slowly, confused. "I'm aware of that, thank you."
The eye-roll he got for that was absolutely impressive. "Don't be dense, Peter, it's not a good look on you. You keep your distance to the pack, but wolves still need contact with pack. If you refuse to get it yourself, I'm gonna make sure you get it anyway, if you want to or not."
Or not. Peter had to physically keep himself from barking out a laugh. Did he want physical contact to Stiles? Of course. He just wouldn't have thought his boy would allow it. Then again, for the past weeks of this pack forming, Peter had done everything to prove himself to the boy. Many hours had been spent with Peter and Stiles researching the Alpha Pack together, after Derek had found their symbol on the door of the old Hale House (the main reason Derek had finally gotten a proper place to sleep in, with a roof and a door. Small mercies). The wolf's heart was racing and he couldn't entirely stop himself from preening that Stiles had chosen to take care of Peter. Watching the boy boss Derek around and take care of the Alpha in his own way, shaping Derek into a better Alpha, watching Stiles curl together with Boyd and Erica and bond over the shared trauma, watching him quietly talk to Isaac about the boy's dead mother and brother, watching him begrudgingly make an effort to get to know and somewhat befriend Jackson, that was one thing, but to see Stiles reach out to Peter and try to take care of Peter? When… was the last time someone had taken care of Peter?
For a moment, an unfathomable sadness filled him as he remembered the smiling face of his uncle James. The younger brother of Peter and Talia's father, Pack Mom to the Hale Pack that Peter had grown up in. When Peter had been a pup, untouched by trauma or tragedy or loss. An equally unorthodox pack dynamic and the only reason Peter had clued in at all as to what role Stiles was filling in the pack. As much as Peter had adored his mother Dalia, the woman was not much of a caretaker. She was a loving mother, yes, but herding all the pups and tending to the other adults in the pack? She had her duties as Emissary to prioritize, so when her brother-in-law had stepped up to fill that part of the Alpha Mate's role, she had more than gladly handed the duties over to James.
"Hey," Stiles whispered softly. "Where did you just go in your mind?"
Peter shook his head, shaking the thoughts off and returning his attention to the pasta. No point in dwelling in the past, he had to set his sights into the future and the pack he would build.
/break\
Peter Hale was frustrating to deal with. Not just because of all the creepy jokes he made that Stiles couldn't take seriously, or the murders, but because the man was such a lone wolf. It was a headache, really. Stiles had even managed to force Jackson into pack-bonding and that was a feat he was quite proud of. Then again, since the whole kanima-situation, the other jock had become a little more bearable. It helped that Stiles only had to deal with him alone nowadays. Lydia would not come within ten feet of the Hale Pack, on account of Peter, so Stiles didn't have to sit through Jackson and Lydia together. He was doing so good at getting over his crush, because quite frankly, he knew it would never compare to the Disney-levels of love that Jackson and Lydia had, seriously, they had done the whole 'True Love's Kiss breaks the curse' spiel, who could compete with that. And it was easier to digest that and get over it when he didn't have their love thrown into his face all the time. Similarly, it helped that Scott wasn't part of the pack, because Jackson still had that rivalry going on with Scott and that would just be obnoxious to boot too.
Instead, both Scott and Lydia spent their summer obsessed with Allison Argent. And, to distract himself from that (and from the nightmares about the basement and the painfully slow healing of his bruised ribs), Stiles had thrown himself into fixing Derek's pack of puppies before they got themselves killed. It was a great project, it was exactly what Stiles always did. Dealing with his own pain and grief by taking care of others. After his mother had died, he'd launched himself into taking care of his dad and it had worked out great for Stiles. No need for therapy or anything. He ran the household, made sure his dad at least slept on the couch instead of sitting in a chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand, he even forged the sheriff's signature on the paperwork he'd do while his dad was passed out drunk. So much to do, no time to grief or think sad thoughts.
A few weeks into this new little project, Stiles noticed that Peter always kept a certain distance to the pack. Sitting on the spiral staircase, instead of on the couches with the other betas. And part of Stiles had accepted that, assumed it was an issue of an adult man not wanting to cuddle up to a bunch of minors he didn't even know. The longer he watched, the more he started to realize that it might be more than that though. That Peter might be punishing himself.
Survivor's guilt. Peter was the only survivor of a horrible tragedy. Derek was too, in a different way. He felt guilty, because he blamed himself for it happening because of Kate, and he hadn't even been in the house when it happened. Peter had been in the middle of the tragedy, had been hurt by it. Must be asking himself 'Why me? Why did I get out and they didn't?'.
Eight people died in the Hale Fire and Stiles had read the file. He knew who Peter had lost in that fire, who Peter had watched and listened to as they died. Not just Derek's parents and little sister. Peter's mother had been in the house too. Peter's younger brother Aaron and his family – his wife and two children. And out of them all, Peter was the only one to survive. Stiles couldn't imagine how much that alone would choke someone up.
So Stiles guessed survivor's guilt – not thinking he deserved kindness – combined with a fear of loss – he'd already lost an entire pack, every person he'd let close was someone else he could lose. And that just couldn't stand for Stiles. He was part of the pack, he'd been helping them so much, he deserved to not be a pariah in his own pack. And the Hale Pack should be Peter and Derek's first; they were the last surviving Hales, after all.
With Derek and the teen betas more or less taken care of, Peter became Stiles' next project (because Stiles was still more or less avoiding Scott, who kept mooning over Allison, the girl who got Boyd and Erica abducted and nearly killed them. And yep, he needed the distraction).
"You're out of… everything aside from coffee. How do you live like this?" Stiles frowned as he closed another cabinet. "...Do you no longer need food since the resurrection?"
Peter, who had just walked into his apartment, stared at Stiles. "What are you doing here? How do you know where I live and how did you get in here?"
Stiles pushed off the cabinet enough to aim his full glare of disappointment and offense at Peter. "You didn't seriously think I didn't know where you lived, did you? I expected more of you, Peter."
Which, really, he did. Peter so far had delighted in seeing everything that Stiles was 'capable of'. He really thought that Stiles never tracked him down to his fancy apartment? Peter sighed, a sound of defeat that indicated he was following Stiles' line of thought. Stiles smirked.
"And how did you get in?" Peter asked while shrugging off his jacket.
Another glare of disappointment and offense. "Not even gonna dignify that with an answer."
This time, the sound Peter made was mildly amused. The man kept puttering about, dropping his keys in the little ceramic bowl (hand-made by his niece Cora, it was signed in a scrawny children's writing in bright yellow). His shoes came off and he slipped into fuzzy slippers (Stiles was gonna burn that image into his mind forever. Peter Hale in fuzzy slippers).
"Well," Stiles raised both eyebrows pointedly. "Food? Where is it?"
"Presumably at the store," Peter cocked one eyebrow. "I prefer ordering in over cooking."
There was something left unsaid there. Stiles narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. No point in cooking for one person. Stiles knew that feeling, sitting all alone in the empty Stilinski home while his dad was out on yet another double-shift. Another reason why Stiles kept hanging out with the Hale Pack. In the aftermath of Matt's murder spree at the sheriff station, they were so severely understaffed and stretched thin that his dad kept pulling double or even triple shifts.
Stiles didn't really have Lydia, because Lydia had Allison and Jackson and Stiles was trying to avoid the murderous huntress as well as the Jackson-Lydia-love-fest. And Stiles didn't really have Scott, because Scott had Allison and lacrosse on his mind and was 'trying to do good at school' and 'be a better version of himself'; he was studying and had no time for Stiles. And Stiles also didn't really have his dad, because half the station had died and his dad was trying to cover for them while simultaneously mourning his friends and co-workers. Leaving Stiles all alone in his house, cooking for himself and sitting in silence, so instead, he ran to the Hale Pack and he cooked for six werewolves and listened to banter and snark and noise. Because that was how he coped.
"Right, well, you're glad I had the foresight to buy everything I'd need then."
"Need?" Peter approached him, curious. "What… What exactly are you doing here, darling?"
Stiles went to the bag he had brought and started unpacking stuff. "You owe me a history lesson on Deucalion and if I have to sit any longer on Derek's uncomfortable couch, my ass is not gonna thank me. Yours actually looks more comfortable. So. Dinner and a story. Now come help."
"Help?" Peter cocked one eyebrow but approached anyway. "You… break into my apartment, demand my time, occupy my kitchen and then order me to help with what you're doing?"
Stiles looked up from the ingredients, blinking large eyes at him. "Glad you're following. Onions."
For emphasis, he threw an onion at Peter. The wolf still looked bewildered. This may be the most out of his depth that Stiles had ever seen Peter, which was mildly delightful. Was it really throwing the big bad wolf for such a loop that Stiles was cooking for him?
Maybe he wasn't necessarily here to learn more about the Alpha of Alphas, they could have done this at the loft too, like their usual research sessions. But for the past weeks, Stiles had more or less subtly tried to force some physical contact onto Peter. Brushing against him, sitting closer to him, leaning against him, either sideways when he sat next to Peter or, if Peter occupied his beloved staircase then Stiles may sit down a few steps below and lean against Peter's leg. He could practically see the tension draining out of the wolf at every touch. Because wolves were tactile creatures. The betas were always all up in each other's personal space and had started including Stiles in that too. Only Peter kept himself on the outside.
Which, Stiles just wasn't going to allow anymore. He had, for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of (because Peter had been the only one to see him, had been the only one to stick around and stay with him when he had been beaten and tortured by Gerard Argent, Peter had noticed when nobody else had, because Peter had come with Stiles to track down Boyd and Erica, because Peter always listened to him, even when he acted annoyed by Stiles' ramblings, he still picked up on the important parts and never outright dismissed him), Stiles had decided that Peter was one of his now and Stiles took care of those who were his. He took care of his dad, he took care of Scott, after joining the Hale Pack, he'd started taking care of the pack (he put himself between the kanima and Erica and Isaac at the rave, he'd tried to get Erica and Boyd out of the basement, he was trying), and now that extended to Jackson and Peter too. If Peter was going to be difficult about it, fine. Stiles was as stubborn as it got. But he wasn't going to be stupid about it and trying anything more than casual contact in front of the pack would just chase Peter away, so he was here.
They cooked in moderate silence, Peter seemingly in his own head trying to figure out what it was that Stiles wanted. Only when the food was done and they moved to the living room did Stiles prompt Peter to actually talk, because yeah two birds, one stone. Take care of Peter, learn about the Alpha of Alphas. Once Peter sat on the couch, facing the table, Stiles sat down right next to him, facing Peter instead and casually throwing his legs over the wolf's lap. For a moment, Peter tensed, as he always did at unexpected physical contact, and also like always, he melted as soon as it registered as safe contact. Stiles sat close enough to him, he could feel the wolf's warm.