The sun is barely over the horizon when Peter gets up, but he likes it that way. There's an ache, as always, when he pulls himself out of the warm bed while his partners are still sleeping, but it fades—mostly—by the time he pads barefoot down to the kitchen. The dawning sun is visible through the giant bay window that surrounds the breakfast nook. It sheds just enough light for him to see by.
He hums as he pulls out Stiles's favorite coffee and sets it to brew. The whole pot will be gone by noon, if that. Stiles only has one cup because caffeine makes him sleepy and two cups would have him going back for a nap instead of eating lunch. Derek is the primary offender, though Peter's not far behind. Stiles has good taste in coffee. Sue them.
Peter stares into the pantry for a moment, eyes wandering between the tomatoes, potatoes, fruit, and flour. Stiles did the grocery shopping yesterday so Peter has options. Such industriousness should probably be rewarded. He grabs the flour, sugar, salt, vanilla, and two oranges for good measure. Once those ingredients are deposited on the counter, he turns to the refrigerator for milk, eggs, and butter. Stiles had never had crepes until Peter made them for him. They've been a special treat since then, something Peter makes when he wants to spoil his boy. Peter always wants to spoil his boy, but he limits himself to special occasions.
There's a stack of crepes cooling by the time Derek wanders downstairs. They nod to each other. Derek heads straight for the coffee. He's nonverbal in the morning, at least until he's had coffee. Caffeine doesn't have the same effect on them as it does humans, but there's something about the ritual of drinking coffee that helps ease Derek into mornings.
A few minutes later, Stiles comes down with the blanket they keep at the end of the bed wrapped around him to hold in warmth. He collides directly with Peter and Peter just laughs and switches off the heat under the saucepan he'd been using to make a nice orange glaze for the crepes.
"Good morning, darling." Peter wraps an arm around Stiles and places a kiss on the boy's forehead.
"You left," Stiles mumbles. "Cold."
Peter chuckles and rubs Stiles's back. It doesn't get particularly cold in southern California, but Stiles is surprisingly sensitive to temperature, as they found out the first and only time they tried taking Stiles skiing. "Derek will warm you up while I get this plated."
Stiles snuffles an agreement and shuffles over to the kitchen table where Derek is nursing his coffee. Rather than take one of the three open seats, Stiles hovers next to Derek until Derek rolls his eyes and scoots his chair back far enough for Stiles to climb onto his lap. Peter can't help but stare for a moment. They make an adorable pair, especially once Stiles tucks his face into Derek's neck.
"No going back to sleep."
Stiles makes a noncommittal noise. Peter knows better than to trust that sound. He plates two sets of crepes, layering orange slices on top before applying the glaze and a spoonful of freshly whipped cream. He sets both plates in front of Derek along with two forks, though he knows they're just going to share until Stiles decides he wants to move out of Derek's lap.
Peter joins them at the table a minute later with a cup of coffee and his own plate of crepes. Stiles reluctantly lifts his head long enough for Derek to feed him a bite of crepe. Peter can't help smiling as he watches. Derek's eyes meet his and the smile is shared there. They both love their boy, perhaps more than is wise, but the love is there nonetheless. He thinks after everything Stiles has been through—the Darach, the nogitsune, hunters and rogue Alphas, kidnapping, the list goes on—that Stiles deserves a little extra love.
Really, how could Peter deny his boy? The world needs a little extra love.