Domestic Bliss and Other Nonsense
"So, I think we should get married."
Peter chokes, fumbles for a second, then manages to set his mug of tea down on the coffee table. He turns to look at Stiles, who is sprawled over the end of the couch, flipping through an old book.
"What?" Peter asks.
Stiles turns bright amber eyes on the stunned werewolf. "We should get married."
“So all the books can be in one place.”
Peter rolls his eyes. He raises an eyebrow at Stiles who just continues to stare back at him. He’s serious. “Is that the only reason?”
“A combined library, while nice, is not a good enough reason to convince me.”
Peter gets up and heads into the kitchen to get a paper towel to dab at the wet spots on his sage Henley. He frowns down at himself while he lets Stiles get his thoughts together. They've been friends long enough for Peter to know that Stiles isn’t actually all that spontaneous anymore. If he’s blurting this out now, it means he’s been thinking about it for a while and containing the idea finally became too much for him to handle.
Peter likes Stiles. Really. Over the years, as things settled for the pack, they had grown closer. At first it had been just a mutual need for each other’s books for research. That forced interaction had given way to tolerance and then a genuine friendship that had survived Stiles going off to UC Berkeley.
“Peter.” Peter turns at the tone in Stiles voice. The other man is standing in the doorway, leaning against it, gazing at him with eyes that speak of a certain kind of tiredness. Peter sighs, he knows that feeling, knows it’s reflected in his own eyes often enough.
“I can’t pretend anymore, Peter” Stiles tells him softly. The tone has the wolf moving across the room to embrace the lean human. Stiles leans into him and breathes him in. After all these years, Stiles may still be human, but he’s more wolf than not. They stand there, scenting each other for a few minutes.
Eventually, Peter pulls away, dragging his hands down Stiles’ arms in a comforting gesture. “Okay,” he says softly, because he knows.
The tension bleeds out of Stiles’ shoulders and he grins, that genuine one that makes sparks go up Peter’s spine. Peter braces himself, then says “I have conditions.”
“I don’t want to be your queer-platonic partner Stiles, I can’t do that.” Peter sees as realization starts to sink into him. He offers up a little smile, smaller than Stiles’ grin, but just as genuine. “This would be us. Two Aces choosing to be in a partnership. That means taking turns cooking, and taking out the trash. Sharing a bed.”
“A combined movie collection and all the cuddles I want?” Stiles asks. There’s a sly tilt to his lips and Peter knows he’s been played right into Stiles’ hands. “Maybe some dates. Maybe a few kisses?”
The last one is a question, a challenge. Peter chuckles and leans forward and presses his lips to Stiles’. It’s dry, just a press of lips to lips. A show of affection. This is the only kind of kiss either of them likes. The only kind either of them will ever want.
After, they move back over to the couch, only this time Stiles takes up more than his share and uses Peter’s midsection as a pillow as he dives back into his book. Peter takes up his tea again, thankfully still warm, and goes back to the article he’s reading. It’s severely domestic, but it’s the way that they are together.
A few minutes later, Stiles says: “Let’s not tell anyone.”
Peter snorts and shakes his head, looking down at Stiles, “Tell them what?”
“That we’re not so madly in love that we can’t help but bend each other over every available surface.” Stiles tone is pure mischief.
“We are in love, Stiles.”
“Yeah, the kind it takes fifty years of marriage to reach,” Stiles counters. “Besides, it’ll be funny. You can leer all you want, and we can make a big deal about having a nice wedding.”
“You just want the presents,” Peter replies.
Stiles shrugs, unashamed “We need a toaster oven.”
Just like that they’re a ‘We’. Peter’s condo is now ‘Theirs’. Both of them settle into the idea of being in each other’s space easily and comfortably. They are already friends, half in love with each other. Peter knows that there are things Stiles does that irritate the hell out of him, and vice versa. Stiles knows that Peter may not show it, but he’s insecure and has abandonment issues that would make Jackson cry.
Stiles has this thing he does where he takes his socks off with his toes, which means he leaves socks all over the house. Peter is a neat freak and will end up being the only one who does laundry. Stiles will end up having more than one dirty, balled up sock unerringly collide with his head. They’ll bicker over how to organize the books and the movies.
“This is gonna be good, I can tell” Stiles whispers an hour later, looking up at Peter, who’s dozing in his seat. The older man hums gently in agreement because they can both see that long empty, lonely future fading away.
- - -
Scott can’t stop laughing. Every time he calms down, he gets a good look at th expression on Stiles’ face and he can’t help it, he starts laughing again. The Alpha has filled out, settled into his role and he’s good at it. He went to veterinary school, and is now partners with Deaton, all set to take over Beacon Hills Animal Clinic in a few years.
“Seriously?” Stiles demands crossly.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Scott pants, finally calming down enough to speak. “It’s just, you guys have been sort of dancing around each other for years. I thought you were gonna tell me you were dating, not getting married! I mean, really, it’s Peter, he’s sorta” Scott makes a wiggly hand gesture to indicate what he thinks of Peter’s level of sanity. “Not that he hasn't gotten better in the last couple years, but really, who voluntarily teaches history?”
Stiles rolls his eyes so hard he thinks they might fall out of his head. “I’m gonna be teaching mythology in the fall, Scott.”
Scott chuckles again at the reminder, “I guess you sort of deserve each other, then.”
“Just for that” Stiles says, grinning spitefully, “As my best friend you now get to hear every sordid detail.”
“What?!” Scott yelps, suddenly serious and feeling a little cornered. “Why?”
Stiles rolls his eyes, of course it’s because Stiles had to hear every little detail when Scott and Allison were first starting out. Then, after they broke up and Kira moved to town, he had to hear every little detail about Scott’s relationship with her. Don’t get him wrong, he loves Scott and he loves Kira and they are so disgustingly cute together every now and then he gets the urge to vomit a little, but… well, sex squicks him out okay. He’s Ace, not stupid. He gets that for most people, sex is a huge fucking deal, okay. He just doesn't want to hear about it.
“Payback,” Stiles says with a grin. “For everything I never wanted to hear about your relationships.”
Scott winces. He’s heard it several times from Stiles, and from Isaac, that he over shares. Even Kira’s said it. “Please don’t.”
“I’m a pushy bottom” Stiles spouts with a smirk as they get up to dispose of their trash, just to watch Scott squirm. “Peter’s got a lot of stamina.”
Scott whines in the back of his throat as they leave the deli they’d met for lunch in. “If I promise to help you with the wedding, will you please never say anything like that again?” he pleads.
Stiles smiles beatifically at him after he finishes climbing into the jeep (yes he still has her, no he’s never giving her up), “We’ll see.”
“Congrats, by the way. I guess.”
Scott shrugs. It’s the best he can do and Stiles knows it. Peter may be part of the pack, be the wise Pack Elder and all, but some part of Scott will always resent him for biting him in the first place. He gets that Stiles and Peter have bonded, even gets how they could have fallen in love with each other, but that doesn't lessen that resentment any.
Stiles lets it go, because he can tell that Scott is giving himself a pep talk right there in the street to support Stiles. And Peter, too. Stiles reaches out through the window and pats Scott on his head, giving his friend a grin that Scott readily answers with one of his own.
“Go back to work,” Stiles tells him.
“Yes, sir, Professor Hale.” Scott says cheekily.
“That’s Stilinski-Hale to you, buster” Stiles replies primly, then he starts up the jeep and pulls away from the curb.
- - -
Stiles doesn't keep things from his father. After all the lies and the horrible feelings of not being trusted, he just doesn't. John Stilinski knows more about his only child than he usually feels comfortable with. They usually just sort of nod at each other when one of them over shares and go about their business.
This is the only reason why John’s not surprised when Peter shows up for family dinner alongside Stiles. John snorts and just rolls with it. He knows his son, so this’ll be equal parts ridiculous and (if what he suspects this is about is true) expected.
“So, what’s up?”
Stiles stares at him over the top of his glass and looks to Peter for help. Peter shrugs, he’s not going to be the one to say it. He tells Stiles this: “This was your idea.”
Stiles makes an indignant noise, mutters about how Peter agreed to it, then straightens his shoulders, looks his dad in the eyes and says: “We’re getting married.”
The room is silent for a few minutes. Stiles spends it gaping at John, and Peter returns to eating the last few green beans off Stiles’ plate. John rolls his eyes, but doesn't say what he’s really thinking. He knows his son. His son tells him everything. Everything.
“That’s it?” Stiles manages to get out.
“Are you gonna be happy with him?” John asks. Stiles nods so quickly that Peter thinks his head might just roll off his shoulders and out into the hall. “Then what do you want from me? You've been falling in love with him for five years, kid.”
“I - wait. Really?”
John resists the urge to let his head thump on the table. He just sort of stares at Stiles instead. It takes Stiles a minute to reboot, but eventually he remembers who he’s talking to, and flushes. He mumbles something that makes Peter smirk at him, amused.
Nobody says anything for a while longer.
“We’re not telling anyone we’re Ace for a while” Peter says eventually. John raises his eyebrows at him. Peter shrugs and says, in the most innocent tone he can muster: “We don’t want anyone to question our true love.”
John snorts and Stiles cackles outright. In that tone, said by this werewolf, the idea that they’re in love is ridiculous. Peter grins in that way he does when he feels like he’s accomplished something.
“Your friends are going to hate you for the rest of your lives,” John manages.
“It’ll be worth it,” says Stiles, eyes gleaming. “This is for all the times they talked about sex in front of me and never realized how uncomfortable it made me. They have enhanced senses for cripes sake!”
When John raises an eyebrow at Peter, his smirk turns evil. “I want Derek to feel the urge to burn his retinas out of his skull just like I did every time I’ve walked in on him and someone.”
John shakes his head, then gets up to take the dishes into the kitchen. “You guys deserve each other” he says.
- - -
They don’t really get to make an announcement. Scott apparently can’t keep his mouth shut, because by the time the day is over he’s called every single member of the pack. Even the ones that no longer live in Beacon Hills, and therefore don’t really have a vested interest in the goings on there.
Lydia calls Stiles at what he calls the crack of dawn from London the following morning to talk about wedding plans. She hangs up on him when he makes a crack about her standing up with them as Peter’s Best Woman.
Isaac swings by their condo on his way to work and has breakfast with them. He spends it watching them suspiciously as they debate the merits of their different sets of furniture as they plan moving Stiles in. Isaac somehow gets wrangled into the conversation and finds himself agreeing to helping out with the heavy lifting.
Stiles lives on the third floor of his apartment building and is not ashamed to blatantly use his wolfy packmates to save himself some trouble. Peter owns the condo, and it’s closer to the UC Beacon Hills campus than Stiles’ apartment.
Isaac gives up, says congratulations and leaves when they start arguing about whether to organize their books by genre or alphabetically by author. He just can’t see it. They’re not acting any different than usual. Eventually he decides he doesn't want to know and he tells Allison that when he picks her up for dinner.
- - -
They still have pack meetings. Now that they’re all older, they've become more along the lines of pack dinners. Every other week someone picks a restaurant and they spend several hours eating everything in sight and talking. Then they go back to the Hale House (that Derek is finally starting to rebuild) and they talk about whatever wolfy business there might be.
Most of the time they skip the going back to the house part. Things settled after high school. There was a huge flux of weird supernatural activity for that first year after the incident with the Nemeton, but as the pack settled into the groove and got good at working with each other; things seemed easier.
The incidents became fewer and farther between. Now they only have two or three incidents a year.
This said, Stiles still almost busts a gut laughing at the sight that Derek makes when he shows up at the condo late one night covered in mud and pond scum. His hair is plastered to his forehead and he’s got a few scrapes along the side of his face.
Stiles knocks over a tower of DVDs he was working on shelving when Derek admits that a pixie got the best of him out by Miller’s Pond.
“What the hell is going on here?” Derek demands, finally taking in the multitudes of boxes all around the room. He takes the towel Peter throws at him and rubs it over his head.
Stiles is laying on the ground, still chuckling breathlessly, staring up at the ceiling. Every time Derek thinks he’s finished another giggle bursts out of him, and he says ‘pixie!’ gleefully.
“Don’t even think about it,” Peter says when Derek moves over to the couch. His uncle is scowling at him from the bookshelf. He’s sliding books onto the shelves gently.
“What?” Derek growls. He’s still fairly grumpy, but Stiles thinks it’s mostly force of habit nowadays.
“I’m moving in,” Stiles wheezes out between bursts of giggles.
Stiles stops giggling, sits up and stares at Derek. Peter’s staring too, with eyebrows that say his nephew is an idiot. They exchange a look and Stiles says in the most nonchalant tone of voice: “Because that’s what people do when they get married.”
Derek stares. He isn't stupid, and he can tell that both Stiles and Peter want to laugh at him. “Scott wasn't joking?”
“Bu- Why?” Derek asks.
“Because we’re in luuuurrve,” Stiles says smarmily, clasping his hands and swooning in Peter’s direction. Peter indulges him and blows him a kiss.
Derek looks like he’s eaten a lemon, about faces and leaves the condo. Peter kindly looks up how to get rid of a Pixie, and Stiles texts the information to Scott, then they go back to their assigned tasks.
Later, after Peter has set all the boxes they've emptied outside by the recycle bin, Stiles wanders down the hallway, toeing off his socks as he goes, and crashes onto the bed with a grunt. Peter follows, grumbling as he picks up each sock and a t-shirt as he comes across them. He knows this is going to be a thing that happens the second he spots Stiles.
Peter sighs, changes into his favorite pair of soft gray lounge pants and then he helps Stiles out of his jeans and into a pair of maroon sweats. Stiles mumbles a thank you before he crawls under the covers and pulls the duvet up to his ears.
Peter prowls the silent house, turning off the last few lights and checking the lock on the door. The wolf inside him is content after the patrol of his territory, and he returns to the bedroom.
Stiles is a sprawler, so it’s no surprise to Peter that Stiles rolls over and drapes himself over him as soon as Peter is in bed. He wraps an arm around the other man and sighs, the tension bleeding out of him.
“Go to sleep” Stiles whispers against his cheek.
Peter hums an agreement and as he drifts off to sleep, he decides that this is nice. This not going to bed alone thing. He can get used to this. For the first time in years the darkness that envelopes the bed in the night doesn't feel quite as heavy and lonely.
Because he’s not alone.
- - -
Things sort of settle into a routine after the thing with the Pixie. Derek refuses to acknowledge that he got dragged into Miller’s Pond by a tiny creature with wings. Isaac has pictures of the Pixie trying to do it again when they went to get rid of it. He uses it as the background on his phone now.
Scott’s developed this thing where he’s always a certain shade of red. There’s a horrified red, which is for when Stiles is around and feeling particularly vindictive and uses his very creative brain to make up details about the sex he’s not having. The other red is for whenever Peter is around and Scott catches sight of him and his brain goes into the gutter.
Peter is not helpful with this condition. He thinks it’s hilarious and has formed a habit where whenever possible he hooks his chin on Stiles’ shoulder and just leers at whoever might be watching while trailing his fingers up and down Stiles’ arm.
For an asexual person, he’s very good at making other people think dirty thoughts. He’s very proud.
Lydia coerces Allison and Kira into helping her hijack the wedding planning. Stiles doesn't actually want a huge to do, but he does want presents, so he’s torn. Peter carefully states over speakerphone during the first of what becomes many fights, that he really just doesn't care. He’ll show up on the day, in whatever penguin suit Lydia chooses so long as it’s Stiles waiting for him.
Stiles makes a crack about does that make Peter the girl? Peter snarls and Lydia hangs up on them. It’s a pattern that she gets into.
Stiles and Lydia fight. They argue over colors. They argue over venue. They argue over food. Yes, Stiles can have shrimp at the wedding, but no, he can’t have an ice cream cake. He’s not five. Stiles vetoes the first five announcements (which he doesn't want. Why can’t they just take out an ad in the paper?) because they’re too ostentatious.
The sixth one goes out without his permission because Lydia cottons on to what he’s doing. She sends one to almost everyone Stiles has ever met and some he hasn't. There are announcements all over town. Apparently the Sheriff’s kid getting married is a huge freaking deal.
Peter and Stiles get called into the Dean’s office. The semester doesn't start for almost two months, by which time they’ll already be married, so they can’t figure out what he wants. When they get there the Dean’s assistant glares at them both evilly like they've done something to offend her personally.
It turns out that she’s hacked that she hadn't been informed of their name change before she had Stiles’ office door painted. Now she’s got to get the sign guy to come back and put Stilinski-Hale on two doors.
Dean Samuels’ issue is that he had to find out through an announcement. Why didn't they call or something? Stiles apologizes and Peter tells him that the planning isn't really up to them. The Dean just sort of stares at them for a few minutes and then tells them not to have too much fun confusing their students in the fall.
Stiles makes no promises and all Peter does is smirk.
They take turns cooking. Whoever doesn't cook does the dishes. Peter prefers tea over coffee, so Stiles learns how to make it properly. Meaning loose leaf tea, not tea bags. He also learns to appreciate it, so he drinks less coffee. Peter becomes an enabler. He learns how to make curly fries. He tries several different recipes until he finds the one that makes Stiles moan with joy and then throws the rest out.
- - -
One night at the end of July, two weeks before the wedding, Lydia and Jackson appear on their doorstep. Jackson is sleepy eyed and grumpy. Lydia is a live-wire, full of ideas and orders. She tells them that they’re staying with them, because neither one of them wants to stay with their parents.
Both Stiles and Peter feel invaded, but they let it go.
The morning after their arrival, Peter is standing at the stove in his favorite lounge pants, contemplating whether to make omelettes or waffles while he waits for the kettle to boil. Lydia enters the room and sits down at the table primly. Her hair is up in a stylish twist and she’s already dressed for the day.
The kettle whistles and Peter sets about making the tea while she contemplates his figure.
“You guys really aren't into this big wedding idea, are you?” she asks.
Peter turns to look at her for a long moment. Both he and Stiles have a soft spot for the woman sitting at the table. She’s become a dear friend to both of them. “Not particularly. We’re very…”
“Quiet about it, aren't you?” Lydia fills in. Peter nods and turns to the fridge, omelettes, he decides, are a good excuse not to look at the mathematician. “You love him?”
Peter stares into the middle distance, thinking about it. Somehow in the last few weeks, since Stiles proposed, the other man has somehow become indispensable to Peter. Honestly, if he had been asked what he wanted in a life partner, he would have described Stiles, even before they met. Peter nods, “Yes. I do.”
Lydia hums, and pours two mugs of tea after the timer goes off. She sits in her chair, watching Peter move about the kitchen in a comfortable sort of silence.
Peter is an early riser. He likes those two or three hours in the quiet and stillness of the morning before the world catches up with the day. Stiles, however, is not an early riser. He stays in bed until the smell of bacon wakes him. Then he rolls out of bed, stumbles down the hallway. He typically collides with the door frame that separates the kitchen from the hallway, grumbles in complaint and then makes his way into the kitchen.
What happens once he’s there depends on how well he slept the night before. If it was restless, he heads for the rarely used coffee maker. If he sleeps okay, he heads for the tea. If he slept solidly and feels heavy but rested, he does the following:
First he stumbles across the kitchen until he encounters Peter, eyes still mostly closed. Then, once he’s found him, he wraps himself around the werewolf’s warm back and dozes off against his shoulder while Peter finishes making breakfast. Peter doesn't mind so much, and since they’re of a height with each other, having Stiles attached to him doesn't hamper his range of motion too badly.
Today is one of the days where Stiles collides with the door frame and then wraps himself around Peter. Lydia watches them with curiosity in her eyes. She hadn't known they were a they until Scott had called to tell her that they were getting married. So she has never seen them in their natural habitat before.
They’re not like planets, she decides. They don’t really orbit each other. They just sort of… mesh. Peter takes Stiles’ weight as if it was his own and it has always been that way. Stiles draws energy from the wolf until he’s awake enough to go looking for the teapot. Peter doesn't need Stiles to tell him how he likes his eggs, he already knows. Stiles tops off Peter’s tea, already knowing that his first cup is already mostly gone.
Their edges are sort of blurred together, Lydia thinks. Like a charcoal drawing blended seamlessly. She decides it’s kind of beautiful and maybe Stiles and Peter really do belong together.
Jackson stumbles grumpily into the kitchen, ruining the moment. The day moves forward, but Lydia keeps the knowledge that two of her friends are happy.
- - -
The day of the wedding is busy. Neither Stiles nor Peter walk down the aisle. Both of them just sort of appear in front of Judge Henry, some music plays to shut up the crowd and they get on with it. Lydia put them both in dark gray suits. Purple ties because Lydia likes purple and neither of them said no.
The crowd is bigger than expected. Kira and Allison had mailed out hundreds of announcements because Lydia had insisted. Most of the people that could, had shown up out of some sort of morbid curiosity over what kind of guy Stiles Stilinski could have possibly convinced to marry him.
The vows are simple, by the book, easy. They could have gone for something epically romantic and written cheesy ones of their own, but at the end of the day both of them knew that while they were doing this mostly to dig at their friends, it was their wedding.
The actual marriage part was as real as it gets.
The kiss at the end is a sweet press of lips and foreheads pressed together that makes several people in the crowd sigh. They walk out hand in hand.
The reception is loud. There are too many people that Stiles remembers making fun of him in school. There are shrimp, and cake, so that sort of makes up for it. There’s a table covered in presents in one corner. According to Kira, who’s been policing wedding gifts since the week after the announcements went out, a lot of people who didn't come to the actual wedding had sent gifts.
This makes Stiles happy enough that he agrees to do the traditional first dance when Lydia insists. They dance to ‘Be Mine’ by David Gray. Stiles picked it, so he sings along in Peter’s ear until Peter spins him out and dips him at the end. Stiles squawks, but grins when he does it.
They leave earlier than Lydia wants. They say their goodbyes to the people that matter. John tells them to have fun and that yes, he’ll make sure Scott remembers to water Peter’s plants. Derek sort of grunts and shifts uncomfortably when Stiles forces a hug on him and calls him ‘nephew’. Scott’s a little pale, and Stiles has a moment of remorse that he’s been stuffing his ears full of sexy details that aren't true.
It doesn't last long.
They spend the night in a suite at the local high end hotel, because Scott and Isaac had gone in together to get it for them as a wedding gift. They spend it eating strawberries and watching old black and white movies. Peter slaps Stiles’ back when the champagne bubbles go up his nose, and then confiscates the rest of the bottle for himself.
Stiles appropriates the big jacuzzi tub for the biggest bubble bath he’s ever had. Peter joins him after fifteen minutes, taking over the other side of the tub. They read parts of ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’ (shut up, it’s Stiles’ favorite book) aloud to each other until they’re all pruney and the water’s gone cold. Then they go to bed early enough that anyone who knew it was their wedding night would be scandalized.
In the morning they drive a rental car down the coast to San Francisco to board a plane that will take them on their honeymoon. Stiles spends most of the flight asleep on Peter’s shoulder. They have a layover in London which is long enough that Stiles drags Peter to the zoo, of all places, and then they’re back in the air.
They spend two weeks driving around Europe visiting World War II battlefields and museums (Peter’s second love) and curiosity shops and restaurants (Stiles’ idea of fun).
They have an older couple take their picture in the middle of a bridge in Austria.
Stiles sends John a postcard from every city they stop in. Most of them won’t arrive in Beacon Hills until after they get back.
Stiles gets too much sun. He’s delicate okay? He fries crispy red if he’s in direct sunlight for more than an hour and a half. Peter helps by rubbing aloe on the back of his neck between chuckles.
They buy cute figurines for the girls and novelty t-shirts for the boys. Peter finds vintage beer steins for John in a shop in Berlin. Stiles finds Melissa some pretty hair clips in the same shop. He wants to get Derek a hat shaped like a giant bratwurst, but Peter talks him out of it and they buy one of those touristy pins every time they stop.
Derek’s going to hate them. They’re perfect.
On the way home, Stiles falls asleep on Peter’s shoulder again. Peter eats the crackers from Stiles’ in-flight meal and watches the movie that’s playing and decides that this whole being married thing isn’t gonna be so bad after all.
- - -
Life after the wedding settles down into a sort of contented state. Stiles calls it the food coma of their life together. Peter just rolls his eyes and throws a few socks at Stiles’ head because he left them lying around again.
They have dinner with John twice a week, which is nice because they were doing that before. John starts calling Peter ‘son’ whenever he feels like weirding him out. Peter feels like he’s in trouble whenever he does it, and that’s why he finds it so amusing.
Stiles inventories all the loot from the wedding. They keep a set of fine china that they like that came from one of Lydia’s rich friends, and the toaster oven Stiles wanted. Then Stiles sets up and Ebay account and resells the rest of it. He puts the money in a savings account that he tells Peter they’re using to go to Disneyland for their first anniversary. Peter doesn't argue, but that’s mostly because he has a secret addiction to roller coasters.
They both bury themselves in their work. The fall semester starts soon, so they spend a lot of time in their offices on campus revising courses. Their offices aren't actually in the same building, Stiles is part of the Literature staff, Peter’s in the History club. One of the professors in the math department starts taking bets on how many kids are going to end up in the wrong building looking for the other Professor Stilinski-Hale during the first month of classes.
Stiles decides he’s going to use them to pass notes to his husband. Because he gets to call him his husband and he likes to use that word. ‘Husband’ becomes Stiles’ term of endearment. It makes Peter huff, half amused. He starts calling Stiles ‘Darling’ in retaliation after he discovers that Stiles’ favorite Disney movie is ‘The Lady and the Tramp’. Stiles doesn't mind it so much.
Derek starts calling them disgusting every time he sees them. Peter just leers and pulls Stiles close. Stiles moans pornographically around a mouthful of cheesy pizza and it makes Isaac and Scott abandon the table as quickly as they can.
“You really should stop doing that” John tells them.
- - -
“Seriously, what am I supposed to do?!”
Scott is half hysterical. Stiles would be laughing if he wasn't so pissed off. Scott’s been running the clinic alone for the past month because Doc Deaton went on vacation and then to a conference, and as a result Scott has slowly lost his marbles. Stiles is convinced that they’d rolled down the giant drain in the floor in the kennel.
As a result a sink had been left on by one of the two high school kids that helped out at the clinic and now Scott had to have a wall torn down and a part of a floor replaced. That wall connects to the kennels, so Scott has to re-house a half-dozen dogs for a week while the repairs happen.
“Dude, take them home with you,” Stiles tells him, then slurps up the last of his milkshake. “Dogs like you.”
“They don’t like Kira,” Scott says. Which is true. Kira and dogs don’t really mesh.
Scott turns full-blown puppy eyes on Stiles. Unfortunately for him, Stiles has been immune to those eyes for years. “Please?” he pleads.
“We’re not taking in a half-dozen dogs, Scott.”
“How about just one?” Scott asks. “It’s just a week.”
They argue about it for twenty minutes but at the end of the day Stiles walks through the front door with a Welsh Corgi in his arms and a sheepish grin. Peter kinds of stares at him over the top of the book he’s reading, “Is it house trained?”
“Yes he is. It’s only temporary.”
Peter knows that nothing involving small animals and Stiles is temporary. He spends all week researching Corgis and trying to find the right name for it. Stiles spends the week trying valiantly not to get attached. He fails spectacularly.
By the time the end of the week rolls around, Peter’s renamed the dog Einstein after the Corgi in ‘Cowboy BeBop’, established that he is, in fact, alpha of their little family/pack unit, and is working on training the happy, smart little dog.
Stiles tells John he’s a grandpa and takes Einstein to family dinner. John just rolls his eyes and accepts once again that his child is strange. He finds it amusing that while Peter has accepted the idea that they’ve essentially adopted a perpetual toddler, Stiles is the mommy in this situation.
And Einstein knows it.
When Scott comes by at the end of the week to collect the dog, he get’s growled at by not only the dog, but by the werewolf as well. Stiles happily hands him a set of filled out adoption paperwork, tells Scott in no uncertain terms that because Scott is such a nice guy, he’ll waive the fees this time, and shuts the door in his face.
One day a set of stairs appears at the end of the bed, so that Einstein can climb up by himself. He sleeps on his own pillow at the end of the bed most nights. Sometimes though, he wedges himself between his humans and sleeps with his nose in Stiles’ ear.
- - -
Aiden is horrifically single. Like, perpetually and in an undignified way. He doesn't like that Lydia flat out told him that she was leaving him to get back together with Jackson. Stiles could have told him that it was inevitable like breathing if he’d asked.
Aiden never does.
Ethan gave up about a year into college and just sort of picks his brother up off the carpet after every break-up with an exasperated expression on his face.
Danny thinks it’s hilarious. For a while.
Ethan and Danny survived all the crap they went through. While everyone else seemed surprised by Danny’s knowledge of werewolves, Stiles and Lydia weren't. Danny was smart. There was a reason why the NSA had tried to recruit him out of high school.
Just after the semester starts, right around the time when the Stilinski-Hale’s get their first set of papers to grade, Danny, Ethan, and a ‘heartbroken’ Aiden show up on their doorstep early in the evening.
“Can we crash here for a couple of days?” Danny asks bluntly, shoving his bags into Ethan’s arms and crouching down to greet Einstein.
“They’re fumigating,” Ethan says, disgruntled. Fumigating means they’ll be here a week at least. Sensitive werewolf noses.
Stiles makes a curious noise in his throat, and turns to Peter. Just by the look on his face, Peter knows it’s going to be one of those questions. He’s right, it is.
“Can werewolves smell decomposing insects in the walls?”
Danny and Ethan move into the guest room and they set up the roll away in the study for Aiden. It’s nice to have friends around, but Danny is observant, and by extension so is Ethan. It’s Danny who broaches the subject early one morning while he’s watching Peter retie Stiles’ tie for him.
“You guys are Ace, aren't you?”
Stiles chokes on the tea he’s trying not to spill all over himself in surprise. Peter takes the mug, hands Stiles a dish towel and finishes the tie. Stiles hates ties, he usually wears casual clothes to work, but they’ve got the people in charge of funding touring campus this week, so a suit it is.
“What?” Stiles asks.
“You’re Ace.” Danny sets his chin in one hand, watching them. Ethan nods over his toast.
“Well, duh” Stiles replies.
“How come everyone thinks you guys have all the sex?” Ethan asks.
Peter snorts “Because making McCall turn that shade of red is hilarious. Also, it’s not our fault the pack is unobservant.”
“Dad knows, so does Lydia,” Stiles offers with a shrug before he finishes off his tea and the two head off to work.
Later that night Aiden laments about how he misses sex a lot and why does everyone around him have to be so happy and in love? Stiles swears he feels his eye twitch and he and Peter exchange a look while Ethan tries to reassure his brother that life really isn't that bad alone.
The conversation kind of devolves and Stiles ends up telling Aiden to just grow a set and handle his life. Aiden makes a few nasty remarks about Stiles, his relationship with Peter and their combined domestic bliss. They understand that Aiden’s just had a break-up, but Stiles has a mean streak a mile wide and no one ever accused Peter of being a nice guy.
They spend a couple hours that night pretending to have very loud, passionate sex ala ‘Easy A’ in their room, which just happens to share a wall with the study.
Ethan and Danny find it hilarious, but Aiden is so grumpy about it, and so tired he falls asleep in his eggs the next morning. When he get’s up to take his first shower in three days, Stiles says it’s nice to see that Aiden is no longer wallowing in his misery.
Peter allows his husband to high five him in victory.
- - -
Stiles is a good teacher. He’s not much older than his students, so he can relate to them. He’s enthusiastic about his subject and he likes to use the red pens. Peter doesn't care about the fact that he has to teach, he just cares about the fact that he gets to talk about history all day long. He likes writing comments in the margins of his students papers.
In the first couple of months of term, they get a lot of kids getting turned around looking for one or the other’s office. The directory brochure they were given in orientation just states that Prof. Stilinski-Hale is in office 316 in the History building, or he’s in office 913 in the English Lit building. Stiles thinks it’s cute (and sad) when a freshman just starts bawling because she’s already late for her appointment with Professor Stilinski-Hale and she’s in the wrong office.
Stiles takes the time to pat her shoulder, gets the girl a tissue and a glass of water and texts his husband. “It’s going to be okay, sweetie,” he tells her.
“You don’t know that!” she wails, and starts crying again. “I’m failing!”
Stiles resists the urge to laugh. Barely. He can remember the all-nighters very clearly, but he had never failed any of his courses, so he can’t relate to that. He sits down next to her, holding the box of tissues and sets the trash basket down next to her.
Fifteen minutes later, just as the girl has finished crying and the hiccups have stopped, Peter enters the office. As soon as she spots him she looks about ready to burst into tears again. Peter raises a hand, and she stops abruptly.
“No crying, Miss Larkin” Peter tells her, as he pulls Stiles’ office chair out from behind his desk and sits down on front of the girl and Stiles.
“Sorry,” she mumbles.
“Now, you wanted to speak to me about raising your grade, yes?”
She nods rapidly, “Yes, sir.”
Peter nods, Stiles pats her hand encouragingly. “It’s not going to be easy, you've fallen pretty far behind.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Do you know why you fell behind?” Stiles asks gently. He’s cottoned on to why Peter’s pulled out the kid gloves. There’s more going on with Miss Larkin than a single failing grade. Odds are Peter’s already figured out what the problem is.
“I thought I could handle it! But I can’t, it’s too much!”
So it’s her course load. Figures. Stiles sighs and exchanges a glance with Peter. He’s not touching this one. He’ll be Mr. Silent Support. She’s Peter’s student.
“Amy,” Peter starts, catching her full attention. His eyes are very serious as he leans forward, setting his elbows on his knees and catching her gaze. “You’re going to need to drop a class, maybe two.”
“Two?” she sounds so miserable.
“Yes. Dropping one would allow you to catch up with your coursework, but you need to sleep sometimes too.”
“Eating is a good thing too” Stiles tells her.
“But what do I drop? I don’t even - I can’t -”
Peter stops her with another gesture. He picks up the file he brought with him and opens it. The top sheet is her course schedule. “Two of these are elective classes. Why are you taking them?”
“My mom said I had to take a women’s studies course.”
“What’s your major?”
“History” she says instantly.
“No. I want to work for the Eisenhower Center collecting oral histories.”
Peter nods “A noble goal. Now, what’s with this poetry class? Your mother?”
Amy nods. Peter and Stiles look at each other again. Peter raises an eyebrow at him, Stiles nods back, and it’s decided. Peter doesn't pull any punches, it’s not his style. “Drop the women’s studies course. You can take it in a couple years after you've got your core classes out of the way. You’re dropping the poetry class and the Lit course -”
“But I have to take a Lit course! It’s a core studies requirement!”
Peter raised a hand to cut off the hysterics and said “You’ll start a Mythology course. It’s considered a Literature course, but it also gives you a credit hour in history as well, because it spends a lot of time exploring the impact of myths and legends over the course of history.”
“But I can’t enroll in a class mid-semester,” Amy says, confused.
“You can if you have permission from the professor” Stiles tells her with a grin. “Any what do you know, I’m a nice guy.”
She stares at them in shock for a minute and then laughs and hugs them both. “Thank you! I swear, I’m going to pass both of your classes!”
“We expect it.”
“Wait,” she says. “What if I turn in the wrong papers? You both have the same name on your boxes.”
“Luckily for you, we live together, so it’ll get where it needs to go” Stiles says, irony lacing his voice. Their mail gets mixed up all the time anyway.
She thanks them profusely and picks up her bag. When she leaves the room she presses her back against the wall outside the door as her legs go to jello in relief. She’s going to be okay, she decides. She’s got awesome professors.
“Husband, you are a giant softie,” she hears Stiles say. She can hear the smile in his voice and she puts a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.
“Hush, you” says Peter. She’s never heard that soft tone before, it’s surprising and she likes it. “I am nothing of the sort, Darling.”
“Of course you’re not,” Stiles snorts.
Amy flees down the hallway. A couple of weeks later there’s a popular knowledge floating around the student body that the Professors Stilinski-Hale are madly in love and it’s adorable and everybody ships it.
Stiles laughs out loud the first time he catches some of his students talking about it. They jump in surprise and a couple of them flush in embarrassment. Stiles just grins and says “Don’t worry guys, I ship it too.”
- - -
Thanksgiving comes and goes leaving behind it leftover turkey and the smell of pecan pie. Stiles eats too much and dramatically makes Peter carry him from the car, up the steps to the door. Peter goes on strike and refuses to cook another thing for a week.
December hits, and with it the end of the semester. They get a real live tree because Peter hasn't had a tree since before the fire. They set up Stiles’ Menorah on the oak table behind the couch. John comes over every night of Hanukkah to light the candles with them. Stiles stuffs them all full of traditional foods that his mother had taught him how to make.
Christmas morning finds wrapping paper all over the floor, Stiles wearing a pair of red and white striped socks and Einstein with reindeer antlers on his little head. They add a few more books to their collection and a couple more movies to Stiles’ Disney collection. They watch ‘Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer’ and then go over to Hale House to have Christmas dinner with the pack.
New Year’s finds them curled up on the couch watching the countdown on TV. Peter falls asleep with his head on Stiles’ lap before midnight. Einstein drapes himself over Peter’s feet and Stiles is so in love with the image as the clock reaches zero that he uses the fancy camera he got for Christmas to take a picture, then he presses a kiss to Peter’s temple, turns off the TV and goes to sleep himself.
They’re both achy in the morning, and Peter overcooks the first few pancakes as a result, but neither of them really mind.
Partway through January Lydia comes to visit for a while. She stays with them because she likes them the most. Well, that’s what she says. Allison is still her best friend, even after all this time, but Allison and Isaac have finally gotten around to moving in together, and are still in the honeymoon stage.
“I have no desire to see that much of Isaac,” she tells them bluntly. “You guys don’t have sex, so I’m never going to see either of your butts hanging out in the air.”
Stiles just shrugs and lets the inevitable happen. Lydia makes the tea some mornings, but she has a habit of forgetting she put it on, and over-steeps the leaves a lot. Peter doesn't like that, especially because over-steeping the delicate white and green teas he likes in the mornings make them bitter, and he doesn't like sweetening his tea.
Lydia likes to watch Stiles and Peter at home. Their meshing has gotten more refined in the months since she saw them last and she can tell that they really are just madly in love now. Even more than they were before.
Peter has developed this thing where whenever he passes by Stiles, he brushes his fingers over whatever part of him he can reach. The back of his neck, his arm, wherever. Stiles leans into the touches. Stiles has developed a habit of making Peter a pot of evening tea. Something soothing and caffeine free that Peter likes. Stiles doesn't like it all that well, but he buys it for him anyway, and he makes it for him. Every time he hands Peter his mug he holds it hostage until he gets his payment of a kiss.
Lydia thinks it’s adorable.
She leaves several weeks later with the promise that they’ll visit her and Jackson over spring break. Which they do with enthusiasm because Stiles is sick of grading papers and Peter wants to get away from anyone under the age of twenty-two.
Jackson’s a lot nicer when he’s at home than he is elsewhere. He’s an architect now, and he’s mellowed out. It helps that he has Lydia. Surprisingly, Stiles and Jackson don’t fight at all during the visit.
They go to as many museums as Peter can convince Stiles into going to. Stiles makes him ride the Eye with him, and they go to the zoo again. They spend a day in Piccadilly and Lydia and Jackson take them to see Shakespeare in the West End before they leave.
Summer sets in slowly, and then all of a sudden. The school year ends and much to Amy Larkin’s joy, she passes all her classes with a B or better. Stiles knows that they've pretty much adopted her for the entirety of her college career, but can’t bring himself to care. Peter won’t admit it, but he likes the girl, so he doesn't mind either.
Around the same time Kira finally gets tired of the joke and explains to her husband in small words that Stiles and Peter are asexual. Yes, they are in love with each other, but no, they don’t have sex. It takes Scott about five minutes to click the pieces into place that Stiles and Peter have basically been pranking him for the better part of a year and vows revenge.
Revenge Scott McCall style doesn't really work out very well. In fact, it backfires in spectacular fashion leaving both Scott and Isaac covered in mustard. Stiles gets a stitch in his side he laughs so hard, and then makes Scott wash the jeep, which has fallen victim to the prank.
Peter stops leering at them like he was, because now that Scott and Isaac know, there’s no point. He starts flipping little rubber bands at them instead. He finds more joy in this than he did the leering, because everyone but Stiles is now a target and no one can ever tell where they’re coming from.
Stiles pulls out his rusty skill at Morse code and starts tapping messages out on things. It irritates the living crap out of Derek. Peter’s known Morse code for years, and starts replying to Stiles’ little messages until one night when Derek just sort of snaps. It ends in a broken chair, a cracked counter top and a Alpha Command from Scott to stop with the Morse code.
One day, in the middle of July a package arrives. Stiles rips it open in excitement because it’s their tickets and hotel reservations and information for Disneyland. He hadn't spent all that time selling their wedding gifts on Ebay for nothing. Peter just makes sure that the packet is tucked away safely and lets Stiles watch as many Disney cartoons as he wants.
At the end of the summer, they pack up the jeep, drop Einstein off with John and drive the long way down the coast to Los Angeles. They arrive late in the afternoon, eat at a nice restaurant in the mall down the road from the park, and then check into their hotel. They ride a couple of rides that evening, and watch the light show.
They stop on their walk around the park to watch the fireworks, arms wrapped around each other.
“I love you” Peter says softly into Stiles’ ear.
Stiles beams at him “I love you too. Glad I asked you to marry me?”
“Best idea you've ever had.” Peter moves in and they kiss softly and turn back to the fireworks. “Happy Anniversary, Darling.”
“Right back atcha, Husband.”
And it is.