“What do you mean, you’re not going home for Christmas?”
“How hard is it to understand? I. Am. Not. Going. Home. For. Christmas,” Stiles snapped and turned away from his obnoxious roommate.
In fact, plenty of people weren’t going home for Christmas. Sure, usually that was because they lived too far away, the flights were too expensive, or they had late finals. But surely some of them had best friends who had to go to visit family in mexico. Or fathers who still couldn’t celebrate Christmas without falling into a bottle and therefore would rather be working a double shift. Or female friends who didn’t ask him on their shopping trip to france because they didn’t understand his sense of fashion. Or hopeless crushes who didn't even ask what he was doing over break. Or… ugh whatever. Stiles pressed his lips together tightly to keep the words from spilling out of him.
Eventually his roommate shrugged and packed the rest of his things before he gave Stiles a nod and left. Letting out a deep breath, Stiles leaned back in his desk chair and started to think about how he could occupy his time during the break.
On Christmas eve he skyped with Scott and his dad for a little while before he idly flicked through netflix, trying and dismissing over a dozens tv shows. Eventually he fell into a twelve hour sleep-coma from sheer boredom.
The next day it was Christmas morning and Stiles felt rather sorry for himself. There were a few gifts from his father and Scott and some token things from the rest of the pack but it was a hollow exchange for actually celebrating with them. He toasted himself his last bagel, scraping out the tub of cream cheese and bemoaned the fact that he would have to go shopping. With a deep sigh, he was about to get dressed when there was a knock on his door. He scrambled over and ripped it open.
“Hello, Stiles,” Peter Hale greeted him as if him standing there was no big deal.
“What are you doing here?” Stiles asked in confusion.
“Even my blackened heart doesn’t want to be alone on Christmas. And after examining everyone’s plans I decided you were the best option.”
“What? Hanging out in a beaten-down college student dorm room in San Francisco was the best you could do?” Stiles mocked, sounding bitter.
“Beats going to France to be used as a human credit card by people who still latently hate me.” Peter shrugged one of his shoulders which were clad in a soft-looking, dark blue, knitted sweater.
Stiles rolled his eyes. He ignored the sweater and those damned shoulders that were beckoning him to reach out and touch, and stepped back, letting Peter inside.
“Well, this is all I can offer,” he grumbled, waving his hand into the room with it’s cheap furniture, meaningless posters and clothes thrown over every surface.
Peter looked around, decidedly unimpressed. “Well, lucky for both of us, this is what I can offer,” Peter deadpanned and handed Stiles an envelope.
With a frown, Stiles grabbed it, pulling it open. “Woah!” he called out, staring at tickets to a Christmas showing of the original Star Wars trilogy. “How did you get these? They were sold out not even an hour after it was announced.” He waved the envelope, mouth open in disbelief.
“I guess I’m just that awesome,” Peter replied, smugly.
Stiles rolled his eyes again but stepped closer, pulling Peter into a hug. “Thank you,” he mumbled awkwardly. But then Peter wrapped his arms around him, face pressing against the side of Stiles’s neck. Peter inhaled deeply and kept holding him firmly, so Stiles relaxed and closed his eyes. It felt good to be close to pack again.
After a while Peter let him go and Stiles stepped back, clearing his throat. “So, I should probably take a shower. I bet I reek.”
“Not more than usual,” Peter teased and Stiles scoffed before laying down the tickets and grabbing his shower stuff.
When he came back ten minutes later, Peter sat on his bed, flipping through one of his forensic textbooks. Using Peter’s distraction, Stiles quickly dropped his towel and put on some clean clothes. Luckily laundry had been one more thing he had done to occupy his time yesterday.
Just as he was about about to slip his favorite hoodie over his shirt, Peter interrupted him. “No.”
“No?” Stiles asked in confusion.
“No,” Peter repeated and stood up. He took a gift bag from where it had been hidden behind Stiles’s desk chair and handed it to him. With a frown, Stiles pulled out the bright red, woolen fabric. He shook it out and stared at the garish motive.
“Oh, my god,” he whispered. “This is amazing.” He held the sweater towards Peter and grinned. “Yoda says: The season to be jolly it is,” he quoted the design.
“Yes, Stiles. I know what it says. I bought it.”
Rolling his eyes once more, Stiles pulled the sweater over his head. Then he raised an eyebrow and lifted his arm to his nose. “And you washed it.”
“Of course. I wasn’t going to sit next to you all day while you smell like a clothes store and possibly toxic chemicals.”
Laughing, Stiles grabbed his jacket and keys and ushered Peter out of the room. He couldn’t wait to get to there.
The theatre was packed with people wearing a mix of Star Wars and Christmas related clothes and gimmicks. A lot of it was actually Star Wars Christmas sweaters but Stiles was pleased to notice that he was the only one with that particular design and color-combo. Peter must’ve splurged for a more rare, expensive version. They got drinks and Stiles insisted on buying popcorn and twizzlers as well. Then it was only a few minutes to the start of Episode IV and they hurried into the screening room, looking for their seats.
“Oh, my god. This popcorn is amazing,” Stiles moaned after he got comfortable.
“You’ve never been here?”
“Uh, no? With what money?”
Peter hummed, looking thoughtful. “Well, I hope you’ll enjoy yourself today.”
“What’s not to enjoy?” Stiles asked with an innocent expression. “My favorite movies, my favorite movie foods and my favorite creeper wolf.”
Peter grimaced and Stiles cackled at his expression. “I believe we had a deal about you not calling me that anymore,” Peter said flatly.
“Yeah, dude. But that was back home.”
“So, you don’t want me to covertly check the sound of your father’s heart once a week anymore?”
Stiles sighed dramatically. “No. I mean yes, I still want you to. Good, little wolfy,” he joked and patted Peter’s knee. In return, Peter leaned over and lowly growled into Stiles’s ear before stealing some popcorn. And Stiles couldn’t even protest because the low vibrations had sent shivers down his spine.
When Stiles was able to concentrate again the Star Wars theme music was already playing on the screen and he snuggled deeper into the seat. This was nice. Familiar. Cozy. Even the scent of Peter’s body wash brought a sense of home. Although the same scent also made Stiles aware of how very close they were sitting. It wasn’t like they didn’t go to movies together in Beacon Hills but usually with the whole pack. But soon Stiles was lost in the movie even though he always noticed when Peter leaned over to take a few more pieces of popcorn.
At the end, when Han and Luke receive their medals, Stiles knuckled a few tears from his eyes and whispered, “My boys.” Peter turned his head to him, raising an eyebrow.
“What?” Stiles mouthed. “Before I met Scott, these guys were my only friends,” he explained defensively.
Peter leaned close to him and said softly, “My best friend was Leia. She was kick-ass like my sister but unlike Talia, she was always there for me.”
Stiles swallowed hard. The notion of them being bonded by their love for Star Wars characters as well as their apparent loneliness was a lot to process. He wondered if Peter ever had a real friend. Impulsively he reached out and threaded his fingers through Peter’s, squeezing gently. Peter returned the squeeze and they sat like that through the whole credits.
Eventually the lights came back on and Stiles reluctantly untangled his fingers and stood up. His back cracked and he wiggled his hips around to loosen then up.
“Really?” Peter commented flatly but his eyes glittered in amusement.
Stiles just snorted, swooped the rest of the sweets under the seat for safekeeping and lead the way outside. Peter insisted on a few breaths of fresh air but afterwards Stiles made him hold the line for more snacks while Stiles himself used the restroom. When he came back they traded places and Stiles couldn’t help staring at Peter’s ass when he walked away. The jeans were as tight as usual and the sight made Stiles’s mouth run dry. He used Peter’s card to splurge for extra large drinks and a shared plate of nachos and managed to balance everything until Peter was back to take his share. There wasn’t a single comment on him wasting Peter’s money and Stiles felt very spoiled.
When they flopped back down into their seats, flopping in Stiles’s case, gracefully lowering in Peter’s, Stiles groaned. “The nachos are great but I don’t think I can eat any more popcorn or twizzlers.”
Peter gave him a smug smile and fished something out of his little man-purse. He held it up to Stiles and watched his eyes going wide.
“Woah! You brought me Reese’s? Okay, seriously! When’s the wedding?” he asked, honestly only half-joking and Peter looked incredibly pleased with himself.
They watched the movie and Stiles dared to make a few more comments throughout. Usually people hated when he did that but Peter didn’t seem to mind. At one point Han and Leia kissed and people whistled and applauded. Stiles grinned wide and bravely took Peter’s hand again. Just for comfort. Really! In any case Peter didn’t seem to mind at all, easily sliding his fingers between Stiles’s.
It helped Stiles through the horror of Han getting carbon frozen and being taken away by Boba Fett. And Peter seemed to draw comfort from it as well as he tensed and squeezed Stiles’s hand when Luke was being defeated and hanging on for dear life. Of course Leia saved him and Peter relaxed. This time it was him that whispered praise. “Good girl.”
Stiles was touched and leaned over. Before he could change his mind, he softly spoke into Peter’s ear. “Your Leia I will be.”
“What?” Peter asked and turned his head to him.
“You’re right. Leia is a good friend. So, your Leia I will be.” Peter’s mouth opened in surprise but nothing came out. Then Peter swallowed visibly and just stared at him. Stiles wondered if he had gone too far, too soon so he was about to add something funny and turn it into a joke when Peter squeezed his fingers and smiled. He leaned in, breathed a “thank you” and then stayed there, nose pressed just behind Stiles's ear.
Feeling Peter’s body heat made Stiles’s face heat up as well. The blush started in his ears and cheeks and travelled down over his chest. He knew if the light was on, everybody would see, so he desperately tried to calm down and cool down. Five minutes later he had barely managed when the end credits finishing rolling. The lights came on and Peter straightened up while Stiles awkwardly cleared his throat.
Peter seemed indifferent to the tension and gave one last squeeze to Stiles’s hand before he got up. “We have an hour between now and the last movie. Do you want to get some real food?” he asked.
Stiles perked up and rubbed his stomach. “Sure. I mean I have consumed my body weight in snacks but I can always eat. What did you have in mind?”
While Peter explained about a burger place two streets over, they picked up their litter and walked to the exit. Outside, Peter casually twined their fingers again while pulling out his phone. Stiles’s heart began to race as he listened to Peter to confirm their table and give their food order to ensure they could eat within the hour. It made Stiles wonder how much time the werewolf had spend planning this whole thing.
“Peter, when did you buy these tickets?” he asked slowly after he had hung up.
“Hm?” Peter tried for nonchalance and shrugged. “I don’t remember. A while, I suppose.”
“Uhu,” Stiles gave back but didn’t push the question just yet. This thing was so new to him that it felt everyone was looking at them for holding hands but of course in San Francisco nobody cared that two men were holding hands.
At the restaurant, Stiles saw Peter slip the waiter some money and they were quickly led to their table. Before Stiles could say anything, someone put a bottle of his favorite ice tea brand in front of him, as well as a giant burger and a plate of curly fries. Peter got the same and then they were alone again.
“Jeez, how much did you tip them in advance for this service?” Stiles asked, baffled.
With a quiet laugh, Peter took a sip from his drink. “Not as much as you think. I used to work here while I was in college and I’m still on good terms with the owner.”
“You worked in college? I thought you guys were super rich.”
“Yes, well, my parents thought it would build character. Clearly, they were wrong.”
Stiles laughed out loud and grinned. “You know, I like your character just fine,” he teased and began to dig into his food while watching Peter intently. Once more the man had his mouth open and stared before he started eating as well, a slight ruddiness creeping into his cheeks.
Pleased with himself, Stiles tried the burger. “Oh, my god!” he moaned. “This is the best burger I ever had.”
“Indeed,” Peter gave back and smiled smugly.
Despite the food being ready when they arrived, it took a long time for them to eat because Stiles had to stop and savour everything. With his student finances he had no chance in hell coming back here anytime soon.
“You know,” he began when he had finally finished, “I think I really need a walk after all this food and the snacks.”
Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Peter shrugged. “That’s fine by me but don’t you want to see Return of the Jedi?”
“I do but we can always stream it at my dorm room after taking a walk, right? Or would you be mad about the money you paid for the tickets?”
Peter waved him off. “No. But I’d prefer my hotel room. No offense but I don’t want to breathe in the stank of your roommate for the next few hours.”
“That’s fair,” Stiles replied. Sometimes even he had trouble with other people’s scent. He couldn’t imagine how it must be for Peter.
After Peter paid, they left. Stiles bravely took Peter’s hand this time, pulse racing again. But Peter didn’t say anything and the world didn’t end. By now it was dark and they could see the Christmas lights blinking everywhere. Even when they wandered into a small park area, trees were decorated. It was kind of romantic and Stiles hadn’t felt this happy in long time.
“Thank you for coming to visit me, Peter,” he said quietly.
Peter wordlessly pulled Stiles over to a park bench and sat down.
“Stiles,” he started, seeming unusually unsure of himself. “To be honest, you weren’t my best option. You were my only option.”
Stiles frowned. That sounded odd. “How do you mean? Like the others wouldn’t have celebrated with you even if you had asked them?”
“No, Stiles,” Peter tried and sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and Stiles suddenly realized Peter was nervous. But then he managed to say, “I mean you were the only option I ever even considered.”
Still frowning, Stiles pondered Peter’s words. Wait… did that mean....
“Oh, my god! Oh, my god, you asshole, you did plan this,” Stiles shouted, threw himself at Peter and kissed him hard. Peter’s arms came around him and held him tight. The kiss was deep and filthy and intoxicating. Peter tasted as good as he looked and smelled and Stiles wanted to climb all over him. His hands were everywhere and Stiles felt his skin heat up, himself getting hard. There was a sort of desperation and he started to rub himself against Peter when his thoughts came back online. He drew back and glared.
“You planned this to a t, didn’t you? Making me feel sorry for you. Banking on my loneliness. Wooing me with Star Wars,” he accused.
“Yes,” Peter replied simply
“You are such an asshole.”
After credit scene:
Peter stretched out on his hotel bed, borrowing into the rumbled the sheets. The credits of Return of the Jedi were running on his tv screen and next to him, Stiles was mumbling softly in his sleep. He leaned over and wiped a bit of drool from Stiles’s lips. Smiling fondly, he whispered, “And I will be your Han if you let me.”