“What are you doing?” Stiles demanded to know as he stormed into Peter’s apartment, not even doubting if he was welcome or not.
“What?” Peter growled out, from his curled-up position on the couch.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Stiles asked again, and Peter glared at him.
“I don’t know what you mean,” he loftily said, and even Stiles could tell that he was lying.
He was hiding, they both knew that.
“Yes, you do. I just don’t get why!” Stiles almost yelled and Peter flashed his eyes at him.
“I killed Laura. You really think he wants me there on the day of her death?” Peter asked, and he sneered at Stiles, whose face softened.
“Peter,” he said and stepped forward to push his fingers through Peter’s hair. “He loves you. He wants you there.”
“I killed her, Stiles. I shouldn’t be there when he’s grieving,” Peter gave back, emotions almost choking him up.
“You’re grieving too,” Stiles gently told him. “And he would like to grieve with you. Do you push him away when the anniversary of the fire comes around?” he carefully asked.
“It’s not the same,” Peter protested, still leaning into Stiles’ touch. “That wasn’t his fault.”
“Neither was Laura,” Derek suddenly said from the door and Peter cursed under his breath.
He hadn’t even heard him arrive, too used to his heartbeat around by now.
“Don’t,” Peter snapped out, but Derek wasn’t deterred.
“You were feral, and we should have never left you behind,” he whispered. “But she was still my sister, and your niece, and she’s gone now,” Derek said, and he almost choked on the words, grief and sadness coming off him in waves.
“And I would like to remember her with you.”
Peter stared at Derek, hesitating for a few seconds before he lifted the blanket he had curled up under.
Derek was there immediately, snuggling into Peter’s side, wrapping his hands around his middle and pressing close.
Peter buried his face in Derek’s hair, breathing in his scent and closing his eyes at the tears that threatened to fall.
Some days he couldn’t understand how Derek could even stand to be close to him, and other days he thought he would kill someone if Derek ever decided he could live without Peter.
He didn’t want Derek to leave him.
“There you go,” Stiles looked down at them, a small, sad smile on his face. “That’s better.”
“Come here,” Derek suddenly gruffly said and pulled Stiles into the pile, who yelped but allowed Derek to manhandle him.
He ended up smushed in the middle, but they were pressed so close together, that Derek and Peter were still cuddling, too.
“I’m sorry she’s gone,” Stiles whispered. “I would have loved to meet her.”
“She would have hated you,” Peter snorted out and even Derek wetly laughed.
“She really would have,” he agreed. “But she would have learned to love you, because we love you.”
“Yeah,” Peter mumbled and pressed a kiss to Derek’s temple.
“Well, she better. I’m sure she’s watching anyway, and despairing over what morons you two are,” Stiles gave back and gripped their arms around his middle tightly.
“That’s also most likely,” Derek agreed with him.
“She would have cuffed you over the head a million times by now,” Peter told Derek and hid his smile in Stiles’ hair when Derek voiced his displeasure at that.
It still hurt, knowing that he was the reason Derek didn’t have her anymore, but remembering Laura like this was better than just grieving her.
Especially if he got to share the memories with the two people he loved most.