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The bedside lamp enveloped the room in a warm glow as Stiles kept staring at his book without actually reading it. He glanced over at his phone on the nightstand and sighed when he noticed the time on it.
Once again, he'd been up nearly twenty-four hours, and he knew he'd probably be up another twenty-four if he didn't find some way to make himself sleep.
But he just couldn't.
Even though it had been months since the Nogitsune was defeated, Stiles couldn’t close his eyes without being flooded with memories of the blood and carnage that ensued while that creature took his body for a joyride. No matter how hard he tried, he was haunted by the faces of the victims from the police station and the hospital...and Allison.
Especially Allison.
He knew he couldn't keep going like this, that he'd have to find some way to get some rest, but he was terrified that the nightmares would warp into reality and he'd hurt someone again.
He needed help, someone who would watch over him while he slept and make sure he didn't turn back into a monster. But who would be willing to do that? He didn't know. Scott and Lydia could barely look him in the eye, his Dad was always gone, and Derek, despite all the threats of ripping throats out with teeth, wouldn't be able to actually put him down if things got out of control. Chris might have been willing had he still been in the country, but even he hesitated to pull the trigger when it mattered.
At the end of the day, there was no one to turn to–
Except there was someone, he realized with a startling clarity. The one person who wasn't bound by the same fragile threads of friendship and morality as everyone else...a man that Stiles often felt both wary of and drawn to at the same time.
Peter Hale.
After a brief moment of hesitation, he grabbed his phone and keys, and headed out the front door to his jeep.
If there was anyone that would be able to help him (or put him down), it would be Peter.
***********
The door opened before he even had a chance to knock.
Peter leaned against the doorway, looking way too put together considering how late it was, eyeing him with that critical gaze that usually terrified everyone else.
It just made Stiles feel relieved.
"Stiles, is there a particular reason that you're haunting my hallway at three o'clock in the morning?"
"I've got a problem that requires a less than ethical solution," he said as he stepped inside the apartment, “and since you have the moral compass of a roulette wheel, I figured you–"
His words faltered mid-sentence as the delightful combination of chocolate, vanilla, and citrus invaded his senses.
His mouth went dry, and whatever coherent thought he’d been about to verbalize evaporated into the ether.
Intrigued, he followed the intoxicating aroma down the hallway. His feet carried him unerringly into the kitchen, where he stopped short, eyes widening in awe.
Dozens of cupcakes were meticulously arranged on the counter, each one a miniature masterpiece. Some were topped with swirls of brightly colored frosting, others were adorned with delicate sprinkles, shavings of chocolate, or candied fruit slices. The sweet, buttery fragrance filled the small space, wrapping around him like a comforting blanket.
"Uh...Peter, what is all this?"
"I have a tendency to bake when I'm stressed."
"Dude, there are like six dozen cupcakes here!"
"...I'm very stressed."
“Well, your stress looks utterly delicious," Stiles said before turning towards Peter with a worried look, “and also concerning, considering the number of pastries...what's eating at you, Big Bad?"
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with, now here,“ Peter retrieved a cupcake from one of the batches and held it out, "eat this before you pass out…you look like you're going to fall over with the next stiff breeze."
Stiles accepted it eagerly, sinking his teeth into the soft, fluffy confection and moaning with delight at the burst of flavors.
"This is soooo good, I may have to ask it to marry me."
"As amusing as it is to see you become emotionally invested in my cupcakes, I would like to know what you came here for."
"I was afraid you were going to ask that,“ Stiles sighed as he leaned against the kitchen island. “Can’t I just eat another cupcake instead?"
"Stiles..."
"Alright, fine! I...I need you to watch me sleep."
"Kinky."
"Not like that, you pervy wolf! I need someone to..." He hesitated, fear clawing at his throat. “To make sure that if I go to sleep, I'll wake back up as myself."
"Is this about the Nogitsune? Stiles, that creature is long gone and never coming back."
"You know that, and I know that, but my brain clearly isn't getting the memo if the constant nightmares are anything to go by, and I am so, so tired, but I’m terrified that if I do go to sleep, I'll become that thing again and I can't–"
Stiles didn't realize that Peter had moved around the counter until he was pulled into a tight embrace. He sank into the wolf's warmth, hiding his face in the crook of his neck.
"Tell me what you need me to do."
"I need you to watch me. Make sure I stay asleep and don't hesitate to put me down if…if the worst happens..."
The room went utterly silent except for the faint hum of the refrigerator behind them. Stiles continued to press his face into Peter’s neck for several more minutes before finally pulling back. When he did, he was surprised at how devastated the other man looked.
"Peter?"
“Stiles, do you seriously think that I'd ever willingly hurt you? I'd rather burn again."
“But, if I become a threat-"
“You won’t,” he declared with an unwavering conviction that left no room for argument. “And if staying with me every night is the only way to convince you of that, then that’s precisely what you’re going to do.”
Peter gently cupped Stiles’s face in his hand, carefully wiping away the tears that the boy hadn’t even noticed had fallen.
"I can't bear to promise what you're asking, but what I can promise is to protect you while you are unable to protect yourself."
Stiles, being far too overwhelmed and exhausted to argue, simply nodded and leaned in closer when Peter put his arm around him.
"Come on," he said as he steered the boy out of the kitchen.“I think it's time we both get some sleep."
"What about your cupcakes?"
"Cora's coming by in the morning. She’ll make sure they get eaten."
"All of them? But there are so many..."
"Never underestimate the power of a hungry Cora."
Stiles just shook his head and continued to let himself be led down the hallway. He was surprised when, instead of stopping at the guest room, Peter brought him into his room.
"Wait, I thought wolves were picky about who they let into their den? Shouldn't I be in the guest bedroom instead?"
“Well, I can't exactly watch over you if you're not close by, can I? Besides, the other bedroom is currently being renovated."
"Renovated? Are you getting a roommate or something?"
"Or something," he muttered under his breath before turning Stiles towards the bed.“You go ahead and get under the covers. I'll join you in a few minutes."
He disappeared into the adjacent bathroom, and Stiles stared at the closed door with a frown before turning around and climbing into the enormous four-poster bed. He sank into the plush mattress with a contented sigh.
"Dear God, this bed is comfortable. I'm going to ask the mattress to marry me."
"Don't let my cupcakes hear that you're already cheating on them."
"I'll have you know there is enough of Stiles for both cupcakes and beds to be satisfied."
"I'm sure there is," Peter said as he slid under the covers.“However, I'm afraid both of those things will have to be disappointed tonight."
Before Stiles could even blink, he found himself pulled across the bed and into a firm embrace. A small part of him thought he should be freaked out at how cuddly Peter was being, but a larger part of him was too comfortable to care.
The room was quiet save for the steady heartbeat underneath him, and he was so close to falling asleep, but a nagging thought in the back of his mind kept him from it.
"Peter?"
"Hmm?"
"What were you so stressed about earlier?"
"I had a feeling you wouldn't let that go," Peter sighed as he pulled him closer.“It’s about my daughter."
"Malia? What about her?"
"Seems Henry Tate wasn't too pleased by the reveal of the supernatural, as he told her she was adopted and essentially washed his hands of her before dumping her in Eichen House."
"Shit, I didn't know...I should have done something in there, maybe I could've–"
“Darling, you weren't in your right mind. There was nothing you could have done. At any rate, once I found out she was mine, I signed her out of that hellhole, and she's staying with Derek and Cora at the loft until the bedroom here is done. Then she'll be moving in with me so we can get to know each other better and establish a better pack bond."
"No wonder you're stressed," Stiles murmured, guilt twisting his stomach in knots.“And here I am adding more problems. Maybe I should go..."
Peter’s arms tightened around him, firm and unyielding.
“Absolutely not. You are staying right here where I can keep an eye on you and protect you."
“But–"
"But nothing. You need help, and I'm more than happy to be the one to give it to you.
"I just...I just don't want to be a burden."
“You could never be a burden, Stiles, not to me," Peter whispered as his hand trailed up to cradle the back of Stiles’s head, thumb stroking gently across the boy's temple.“Now close your eyes and get some sleep. I’ll be here the whole night to make sure you don't go anywhere that I can't follow.”
Stiles nodded and snuggled further down into the warm wolf beneath him.
“Hey, Peter?"
"Yes, sweetheart?"
"Don't worry too much about Malia," he yawned, eyelids drooping as the exhaustion finally took over.“You’re going to be a great Dad."
Stiles drifted off after that, not noticing the tears falling onto his cheek as the unconsciousness fully took hold.
**********
Stiles woke up with a start, blinking in confusion at the soft glow of sunlight filtering through the curtains. For a moment, he couldn’t place where he was, then the memories of the previous night came back and he sat up with a start.
He'd spent the night in Peter Hale's bed, clinging to the man harder than a rabid koala. He should be freaked out by that, but he and Peter were friends (sort of), and that was a perfectly normal thing for friends to do, right?
He refused to dwell on the fact that he would NEVER have cuddled with Scott like that.
Stiles noticed that Peter had left his phone charging for him on the nightstand and reached over to grab it. While the zero text messages weren’t a surprise, the fact that it was 3:30 in the afternoon was.
He had actually slept through an entire day, completely uninterrupted.
He couldn't remember the last time he'd been able to sleep more than a few minutes without waking up screaming. Last night he not only managed to stay out for several hours, but he did it without having a single nightmare...
Because of Peter.
Before Stiles could think too hard on what exactly that meant, a delightful smell caught his attention, and he reluctantly got up from the bed and ambled down the hallway to investigate it.
He made his way into the kitchen and slid onto a barstool in front of the island, just in time for Peter to slide a cup of coffee and a freshly baked pastry in front of him.
"It's about time you joined the land of the living...here, eat."
"Are you just going to keep feeding me every time I come in here?"
"Depends, are you going to remember to eat something on your own?"
“Touché,” Stiles said before taking a bite, making noises that would be considered utterly obscene in any other setting, "Holy shit, this is amazing, what is it?"
"Cherry Coffee Cake, it was the only one of my Nonna's recipes to survive the fire."
“Well, at least you have—wait...Nonna? Are you Italian?! I would never have guessed that."
"Non lo credereste mai, ma in realtà non vivo nemmeno io in gallerie sotterranee nascoste nel profondo dei boschi, ma sto divagando."
"I don't know what you just said,“ Stiles said as he leaned forward, pointing his fork menacingly, "but I'm pretty sure it was insulting."
Peter just gave him an infuriatingly smug grin before reaching for his own slice of cake.
"Well," Stiles said later after the food was gone and the plates were stacked into the dishwasher, "I guess I better head home now."
Even if he really didn't want to.
He made to get up, but before he could, Peter caught him by the wrist.
“Wait, before you go take this," he held out a small brass key attached to a simple black leather fob, "it's the spare key to my apartment. This way, you'll still be able to get in if I'm asleep, and the runes engraved in the handle will keep you from being zapped by the wards."
“You’re just…giving me a key to your place? You actually trust me with something like this?"
"You're my pack, Stiles. I trust you with everything."
Stiles carefully took the key and added it to his keyring before leaping at the other man and wrapping his arms around his neck.
“Thanks, Peter."
"Anytime, sweetheart, anytime."
***********
After that first night, Stiles waited a few days to see if he could sleep on his own. But after the fourth night of screaming and rampant insomnia, he drove back over to Peter's.
Once again, the man dragged him to the kitchen and plied him with baked goods before taking him to bed and pulling him close.
After a while, it just became a routine for them—Stiles sleeps, Peter cuddles, and in the morning, they have breakfast together while bantering about various subjects.
They were often joined by Malia after she moved in, and Cora, who, despite living with Derek, could not stand the fact that he makes toast "more burnt than our old house."
Stiles came to the conclusion that Cora was as amusing as she was terrifying.
**********
Stiles put the lid to his laptop down after his final exam and leaned back with a sigh.
He'd decided to finish up his schooling online, since the months of being possessed had made it too difficult to try and reintegrate back into a public setting. While doing so had made it easier for him to catch up on what he'd missed, it also emphasized just how alone he truly was.
He didn't hear from the pack anymore. Occasionally, Kira tried to reach out, but after the trauma he'd gone through because of her mother, he just didn't have the right mindset to continue that friendship. He didn't really mind, seeing as the Hales all kept contact with him, especially Peter and Malia.
What did bother him though, was that the Sheriff had only spoken maybe two words to him in the last six months. He said nothing about the fact that Stiles slept somewhere else every night, and was always long gone before the boy came home in the mornings. He'd always known that his tendency to ignore a problem until it went away came from his Dad...
It just hurt to realize that the problem the man was trying to ignore was him.
He glanced over at the leather fob on his keys and debated on just going over to Peter's. He'd been told he could come over at any time, and quite frankly, he was tired of sitting in an empty house full of old ghosts and regrets.
Decision made, he grabbed his stuff and went out the door.
********
Stiles entered the penthouse, the scent of vanilla and sugar immediately surrounding him. He kicked off his shoes and followed the aroma straight to the kitchen, pausing to take in the sight before him.
Peter, who normally never has a hair out of place, was covered in flour as he tried to teach Malia how to bake.
“You can't keep trying to eat all the batter, Malia."
"But why not?"
"Because my little moon, if you eat it all now, I won't have anything to bake into cookies."
"Oh fine,” she grumbled, leaning against her father when he wrapped an arm around her, “but only because you promised to make them shaped like little deer."
Stiles leaned against the doorframe, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Well, this is definitely more domestic than my home economics class ever was."
Both heads snapped towards his direction. Malia growled a little at the sudden intrusion, but Peter just grinned in delight.
“Stiles, I see you were able to master those silencing runes we talked about last week."
"Took a few tries, but I managed it," Stiles chuckled, walking over to lean against the counter, “so is this stress baking or regular werewolf Martha Stewart baking?"
"Neither, actually. We’re testing out different batches of cookie dough to see which ones make the final cut for Christmas dinner."
"You guys need any help?"
"You're welcome to grab some of the cookie cutters and start cutting the dough into shapes."
"But not the deer ones," Malia said, looking at him with narrowed eyes, “those are mine."
Peter just shook his head in fond exasperation.
"No one's going to take your cookies away, Tesóro."
"Not if they know what's good for them."
Stiles rolled his eyes and picked up the star shape cutters.
"So," he said after putting his part of the cookies on the pan, “Christmas dinner with werewolves, what's that like? Do you guys roast Bambi over an open fire?"
"Hardly, my palate is far more expansive than that. I won't be cooking the same amount as I did before the fire, but there's still going to be quite a bit there."
"Weren't you the left hand of the pack? Why were you doing all the cooking?"
"Because the Alpha burned boiling water."
"Must be where Derek gets it," Stiles muttered, causing Malia to snort with laughter.
“Hmm, yes, in any case, the menu is falling upon my shoulders, so I'll need to plan accordingly. That means you need to tell me if there's anything you don't like so I'll know not to include it."
"Me? Why me?"
“Well, you're coming, aren't you?"
"But you just said it was a family dinner," Stiles said with a confused frown.“I’m not family."
The words had barely left his mouth when he found himself surrounded as Peter pulled him against his chest and Malia plastered herself to his back.
"Stiles, you're not only family, you're pack, and that bond goes far deeper than any blood connection."
"Like me that much, huh?"
"Sweetheart, I adore you."
"I like you too," Malia mumbled from behind.“Even if you did break my other Dad's brain."
"Sorry about that."
"Eh, I like this one better anyway."
Peter squeezed them both a little tighter before letting go.
“Well, now that my parental superiority has been established, let's get these trays of cookies into the oven. Afterwards, we can all change into clothing that doesn't look like a cocaine factory exploded onto it and order dinner from that Italian place across town."
"Isn't that the place you only order from so you can write snarky Yelp reviews about how unauthentic they are?"
"Of course it is."
Stiles just shook his head and smiled. That man was so ridiculously petty.
He loved it though, along with the snark, and the cuddling, and the way those blue eyes would light up whenever—
Stiles nearly dropped the tray of cookies he was holding as he came to the realization that he was completely and utterly in love with Peter Hale.
"Are you okay?“ Malia asked, tilting her head to look at him. "Your ears are red and you've got this weird look on your face."
“I'm fine, really....just got a little too close to the oven..."
She looked at him a few minutes longer, then shrugged and went back to loading up the remaining cookies.
Stiles was glad he'd mastered the art of lying to werewolves a long time ago, because he was definitely not fine...
In fact, he was pretty sure he’d fucked...
**********
He didn't stick around that morning.
After carefully extracting himself without waking Peter up (and wasn't that a heady feeling, that the most paranoid werewolf in existence could sleep completely unguarded around him), he left a note on the nightstand that he had some errands to run, gathered his things, and fled the apartment.
He needed some advice, so he decided to go see the one person that doesn't pull any punches (unless it's to punch someone else, which hopefully doesn't include him).
He'd just raised his hand to knock when a disgruntled Cora slid the door to the loft open.
"Stiles, you better have a good reason for waking me up this early."
"I need some advice and you're the only one I trust to give me an honest answer."
"Alright, come on in," she said as she stepped aside to allow Stiles to enter.“Is this something that's going to require me punching someone?"
"I don't know, maybe? It's about Peter."
"Omg, finally! I didn't think he'd ever get his head out of his ass!"
"Uh....what? You're not making any sense, Cors..."
"I have been waiting for forever for Peter to tell you the truth. Derek is gonna owe me so much money now,“ she continued on before noticing the confused look on Stiles's face.“He did tell you, didn't he? About what you are to him?"
"I mean, he said I was pack, but I don't see why that would get you this excited..."
"That's not...I mean…ugh, just come here..."
She guided Stiles over to the couch and pushed him down before settling in next to him.
"Now tell me exactly what's happened."
"Okay, so, you know that for the past several months I've been sleeping with Peter-"
A crash from upstairs interrupted him as Derek barreled down the stairs, eyes wide with terror.
"YOU'VE BEEN DOING WHAT?!"
"Not like that! Good grief, you Hales are all pervs...We've been sharing a bed so he can watch over me and make sure I don't get possessed again."
"Is the cuddling part of watching over you?"
"How did you—
"Your scent is practically entwined with his, it wasn't a hard guess," she said with a smug grin, “so what's the problem?"
"The problem is I've fallen in love with the man, and I don't know if I should tell him or not, because what if he doesn't feel the same way, and things get awkward, and I end up ruining the best thing that–
Cora grabbed Stiles by the shoulders and flashed her eyes at him before he could spiral further into a panic attack. Once his breathing calmed down, she and Derek exchanged a look before the latter began to speak.
"What do you know about mates?"
"That they're the marriage equivalent for shifters, usually someone their senses determine is highly compatible."
"Mmmhmm...and what about true mates?"
"Something extremely rare, and only for werewolves, where they have one person that's destined to be the other half of their–OH MY GOD! ARE YOU SAYING I'M PETER'S TRUE MATE?!"
"That's exactly what we're saying."
"But I'm human," Stiles said as he glanced up at Derek, "Can humans even have true mates?"
"If the other partner is a werewolf, yes...our father was human."
"I just don't understand, if I'm Peter's literal soulmate, why wouldn't he just tell me?"
"Because Peter's been abandoned too many times by the people he cares about," Cora said, ignoring the shattered look on her brother's face, "and while a werewolf can't walk away from a true mate bond, a human can...and he's scared that you'll do exactly that."
"Well then how do I show him that I'm not going anywhere, and that I want this? I want him."
"Well, a normal part of courtship is doing things that show you can protect and provide for your mate, like Peter does with the cooking and the watching you sleep-
"That last part sounds more creepy than protective."
"Shut up, Derek," she snapped before turning back to Stiles. “Anyways, you need something to show that you can do those things for him as well."
He thought about all the ways Peter had provided for him, from the early morning breakfasts to the late-night comfort cakes. The way the man's eyes lit up whenever he taught him and Malia a new recipe, how the rest of the world seemed to fade away to nothing but the two of them and Nonna Hale's coffee cake.
He knew then exactly what he should do.
"Can you two give me a ride to the specialty grocery store in L.A.? I need some ingredients, but my Jeep is not going to make that drive."
Derek rolled his eyes and went to get his keys while Cora dragged Stiles out the door.
She didn't know what the boy had planned, but as long as it made her favorite uncle happy, she didn't particularly care.
********
On Christmas morning, the loft was a flurry of activity.
Peter did as much of the food prep at his house as he could before bringing it over to the loft to finish the rest. The girls were helping plate and carry food out to the living area while Derek, who was permanently banned from the kitchen, was setting up the dining table.
The only thing that was missing was Stiles.
He didn't show up to the apartment the night before, saying he had something important to take care of. Peter hadn't realized just how entrenched their lives had become until he went to bed and realized he couldn't sleep because he was alone.
God, when did he become so pathetic?
He knew exactly when—the minute Stiles showed up on his doorstep, exhausted and scared, and climbed into his bed...clinging to him like he was the last safe haven in the world.
It had been a risk, inviting his mate into his life like he did. The distance was bearable when they were reluctant allies, but now....now that he's had Stiles pressed against him, heard his soft breathing, felt that fragile heartbeat underneath his hand…
He doesn't think he can live without him.
He was so lost in thought that he didn't hear anyone come into the loft until a knock on the kitchen entry startled him.
He turned around and to his relieved surprise, there was Stiles, standing there with a dessert container in his hands.
"Stiles..."
"Hey Peter," Stiles said as he came and set the container on the counter before pulling Peter into a hug, "sorry I'm late, but it took me a bit to get this recipe right."
"Not that I don't appreciate the effort, Darling, but you didn't have to bring anything for dinner. I've made quite enough to feed these heathens."
"Well, actually, this isn't for them...it's just for you."
He pulled away and took the lid off of the container, revealing a beautifully decorated roll-style cake.
"This is Makowiec, a lemon poppyseed cake from Poland. The recipe was passed down from my Babcia to my mom, and she used to make it every year before she got sick."
"...and you wanted to share this with me?"
"I want to share everything with you."
"Stiles..."
"You have made me feel more safe and loved in the past year than I have felt in my entire life. While I may not be any good at physically keeping a werewolf safe, I can protect this," Stiles whispered, placing his hand on Peter's chest, over his heart, "I need you to understand that, matebond or not, I'm not going anywhere. I want you to be the first thing I see when I wake up, and the last thing I see before I go to sleep. I want to be the one that holds up all of your broken pieces, just like you've been holding up mine. I want to build a life with you, Malia, Derek, and Cora. I want every part of you, even the ones you're too afraid to give. I love you, Peter, and I plan on sticking around for as long as you want me to."
Peter reached up, curling his fingers around the back of Stiles’s neck, and drew him closer until their foreheads touched.
"I will always want you, Vita Mia."
Before Stiles could even process the words, Peter closed the distance, capturing his lips in a searing, desperate kiss. He made a soft, startled sound before melting into Peter’s embrace, returning the onslaught of affection and need with equal fervor.
When they finally parted for breath, Peter rested his forehead against Stiles’s once more, eyes shining a brilliant electric blue.
"Move in with me?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
They leaned in to kiss each other again, only to pause when commentary erupted from the three eavesdroppers in the living room.
"It's about time you idiots figured it out!"
"I'm not calling Stiles Dad."
"Please don't fuck in my kitchen."
Stiles snickered as he leaned further into his wolf.
"Think we should get out there and feed the horde?"
"Later," Peter said as he reached over to grab a fork for the Makowiec without letting go of his boy, “right now I plan on having my cake and eating it too."
And he planned to enjoy them both for a very, very long time.