Chris doesn’t like to particpate in Pack Nights. They’re long, the kids can be overwhelming, although a lot of them have calmed down since going to college. He can almost see the kind of adults they’ll be. Since most of them will be graduating within a year, he guesses that’s about on par.
This isn’t a Pack Meeting like they used to have in high school. During that short time when everything in the supernatural world was knocking at Beacon Hill’s door like a badly written TV show they couldn’t escape.
This was mostly the kids laying around Derek’s loft. He didn’t know why he was invited, but he’d had nothing better to do and Peter always kept good liquor in Derek’s bar.
As the kids were playing some kind of stupid game while the TV played in the background, echoing off the high ceilings, Chris poured another shot of Peter’s whiskey into a tumbler and went to sit on the big couch. Peter was stretched out over most of it, but he pulled up his feet to let Chris sit. Given that Chris would most likely be going back to his apartment with him later for a quick hard fuck, that was the least he could do.
Peter might be driving him too since his head already felt foggy and his fingertips were tingling.
“Come on, Peter,” Stiles said, from where he laid on the thick rug covering Derek’s living room floor.
“No, Stiles,” he said, in a high pitched way to mimic Stiles’s pout.
“If you do it, I’ll leave you alone.”
“And if you break your promise?”
“I don’t know, you can like… squirt me with water? I don’t know. Come on,” Stiles said.
“Yeah, Peter, play or what’s the point in being here?” Lydia asked.
Chris wanted to ask what they were playing, but he had no intention of bringing the crosshairs onto himself. Whatever it was, there was a 100% chance of it being annoying.
“Fine,” Peter said, rolling his eyes and taking another drink of his wine.
“Okay,” Lydia said as Stiles opened his mouth, cutting him off. “Let’s see,” she said, looking around the room. Stiles was turning red. That was interesting. She skirted over a few people before smiling slightly at Chris as well. He frowned. “Derek, Stiles, and Chris,” she said.
Peter snorted, “Really?”
“Mhm,” she said.
“Well obviously I kill Derek. Anything else would be incest and it would level the field.”
“Obviously I would bring you back, don’t pout,” Peter said. “And fuck Stiles, marry Chris.”
Chris jerked to look at Peter, while Stiles made an indignant squawk.
“Why am I not marriage material?” Stiles asked.
“You don’t get to ask questions,” Peter cut him off. “Next, Chris.”
“I had to do it, so do you,” Peter said.
“It’s mandatory,” Lydia said.
“They even made me play,” Derek said.
Chris downed his whiskey and motioned for whoever it was to bring on their set for him to throw under the bus. He expected it to come from Lydia, but Peter started talking before she could.
“Deucalion, Me, and Stiles,” he said.
“Kill Deucalion. Fuck you. Marry Stiles,” he said.
“Yes!” Stiles said, then his excited expression faltered. “Like a sexless marriage.”
“No,” Chris said. It was the liquor. He’d blame that every time. Stiles turning red and smiling slightly was fucking adorable.
“And why wouldn’t you marry me?” Peter asked.
“Why would I when I can already fuck you?” Chris asked.
The sound of the rest of the pack making a groaning, shocked noise was drowned under the sound of Peter laughing. It was the kind of laugh that promised tomorrow he’d regret his alcohol lubed mouth, but for the night, he just smiled slightly as the kids acted like it was disgusting. He saw the intention in Stiles’s cheek, though, as he bit the inside, laughing, but looking between them like he didn’t find it funny at all. He’d have to remember to ask Peter later if he could smell arousal.
The thought was as slippery as his tongue. He forgot to ask, but it didn’t stop Peter from telling him the next morning when Chris woke up beside him in Peter’s bed with a pounding head.