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Mommy Dearest

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The next weekend brought Stiles back to Derek's house. He was going to be staying for dinner to officially meet Peter. It was alright because he had made sure to pack a meal for two for his dad to take up to the hospital, as he was planning on sitting and eating with Deputy Johnson. Right then, he was content to sit in the floor as Derek quizzed him on photosynthesis and he held a sleepy Aubree.

After a bit, she fell asleep and Derek was convinced that Stiles knew the terms back and forth. Dinner was going to be lasagna, messy and homemade, and the scent of the finishing product was wafting into the blue room. Stiles was on the couch, feet laid out over Derek's thighs and Aubree on his chest.

Ritsa popped her head in, a few seconds after Derek gave up on the cards and went on to his phone. “She asleep?” She whispered.

Stiles nodded, careful not to wake her. They had just gotten Poohkey back, fully recharged, meaning she was taking to crying at least four times a night and three to six times during the day. Cora was with her in the knitting room, with the yellow wallpaper. Neither Derek nor Stiles had any objections to her making Poohkey a hat if she would just take their baby for a few hours.

“I'll take her.” She smiled, moving into the room to come towards Stiles. He lifted his torso a bit, trying to offer up Aubree without waking her. Ritsa seemed just to know how to hold her to keep her asleep, as Aubree was taken weightlessly into her arms. “They threw me out of the kitchen, can you believe that?” She stage whispered, just low enough that Aubree only fidgeted in her arms.

Stiles wasn't sure how to respond, but she wore a silly, half-smile that showed she knew why she was thrown out of the kitchen. Stiles laughed a little then, which seemed to please her. Ritsa reached out and ruffled his hair affectionately, making Stiles feel warm and welcomed inside.

After she left, since Derek was obviously beating a game level of some sort on his phone, Stiles decided to text his dad and make sure that he didn't stop for take out and actually took the healthy meal Stiles had prepared. Or, he was, until he noticed he had two missed calls.

From Lydia.

“Shit!” Stiles shot forward, his feet digging into Derek's calves.

“What's wrong?” Derek asked, startled. Instead of answering, Stiles shoved his phone screen into his boyfriends face before ripping it back to redial her. “So you missed Lydia's call?”

“She never calls, dude. It's important.” Stiles fidgeted as the beep rang out for the first time.

“Stiles?” Lydia's voice whipped through to him.

“Hey, uhm, I just—”

“You made me call you twice. Twice. Do you not keep your vibrate on your phone?” She sounded impatient and disappointed. Stiles winced.

“I'm sorry,” he apologized feebly.

“Not good enough.” She retorted. He could hear her humming to herself, which always worried him. She'd only do that with a pursed lip and a thoughtful face – or the ‘I'm getting my way on this’ face, as Stiles called it. “I was calling you to tell you that I'm having a party in a few weeks, and to make sure you knew to bring your boyfriend but a little birdy told me you weren't planning on coming.

“You make me go out of my way to give you this invitation. I mean, I have things to do. So do you know how you're going to make it up to me?” She paused, and Stiles could see – could fucking see – the wide spread of her lips as she smiled her victory smile. “You are coming to my party. You and Derek. No ifs, no buts, nothing.”

“Lydia, I mean I don't mind going, but—”

“Good, then I'll see you there.” The line went dead.

Derek sat still, observing as Stiles’ scared face slowly crumbled to defeated. “That bad?”

Stiles cut a look at him, mostly because he was joking. “Bad for me but also bad for you.”

Derek's smirk disappeared almost immediately. “What do you mean?”

Stiles pulled himself forward to drag his legs off of him and wrap his arms around his boyfriend. “We've been ordered to a party,” Stiles said dramatically.
Peter was the one who came to get them for dinner, walking in on them cuddling. Derek was finishing up a round of a Marvel fighting game on his phone, so Stiles was watching from his comfortable position on his chest.

Peter cleared his throat to get their attention. Stiles couldn't help but wince as he shot up, still apprehensive on Peter’s views on their relationship unknown to him. But he did count small mercies – it could have been Laura who called them, seeing as she was there. Even if she was making herself scarce.

“Dinner’s ready, boys.” Peter smiled cordially.

Derek didn't seem like he was going to say anything, and Stiles would guess he still hadn't spoken to Peter. “Thanks.” Stiles supplied.

“How did the biology reviewing go?” He asked as they made their way towards the kitchen. Peter saw Stiles’ befuddled expression. “My darling sister, Camilla, told me how you had sought her help a few times. By the way, I wasn't so bad at the science in college. If she's not around, and you would like some help, feel free to find me.”

Derek loomed behind them as Peter fell back to brush shoulders with Stiles. Stiles paid it no mind, smiling widely at the offer. “I will.”

Peter seemed to observe him for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. However, they entered into the flurry that was the kitchen before he could talk. Ethan pounced on Stiles, sending him rocketing back. He would have landed on his ass, had it not been for Derek behind him to catch him.

“Stiles! Haleigh won’t share Poohkey.” He complained. His brother looked at him like he was insufferable and adorable at the same time – which reminded Stiles of how Scott would look at him.

Haleigh skipped into the room, from the dining room entrance to pout. “But Cora just gave it to me.” She reasoned.

Stiles looked back at Derek, as if to say ‘Help’ but Derek just shrugged. Peter had moved forward to take a platter of bread from Ritsa, as they were carrying everything into the other room. “Why don't Haleigh keep it during dinner, and afterwards you can play with it?”

Ethan didn't seem happy with the choice, but he respected it. He nodded glumly, before slinking over to where Alden was. He seemed to just be on the wall, in order to stay out of everyone's way. Haleigh smiled at him, “Thank you, Stiles. You guys’s places are already set up in the dining room.” She waved at them to follow her.

Stiles had only been in the room once, and that was just to see it. Derek ducked close to explain. “It's a celebration because Uncle Peter is home again. Everyone has to eat at the table – as a family.”

Stiles caught the edge in his voice, like bitter sarcasm. Haleigh stopped near the middle of the table, long and extravagant as it was. Tonight there’d be no kids table. “Thank you, sweetie.” Stiles said absently.

She smiled big again, before flouncing off with Poohkey in her hands. The fast movement woke up the doll, who started to cry. Derek and Stiles both instinctually turned to follow her to collect their baby but she was already shushing it.

They settled, and sat down. “Wait, did you say everyone?” Stiles rebounded to the topic of why they were using the family table.

“Yeah,” Derek said, picking at his napkin. There was a pan of lasagna in front of them, with four lining the table. Ritsa came and sat down next to Stiles, and Aiden and Ethan came running in to claim the seats next to Derek and closest to Talia. Peter sat in front of Stiles. Everyone was finding a place. “Everyone.”

The subject of the question Stiles was going to ask walked in them, in a pair of shorts and a messy bun. Stiles and her made eye contact, before she dropped her gaze. Stiles didn't think she hated him, just misunderstood. He wasn't going to try and enlighten her though.

“Thank you for joining us, Laura.” Talia said warmly.

She nodded, before sitting next to Uncle Peter. “Hello, sweetheart.” He said to her.

“Hey, Uncle Peter.” She seemed content to sit and pick at the napkin.

“Is this everyone?” Camilla came by, swooping past them to get to the other side. “I think it is!”

“Then let's eat!” Arthur joked, from the other end of the table.

If Stiles thought the first family meal he attended was hectic, this was beyond belief. The adult voices were soon lost in the swarm of children, all demanding attention and responses. Derek was claimed by Aiden and Ethan who wanted to discuss whether or not it was okay for them to do Halloween this year. Ritsa became absorbed in Bailey’s discussion of his latest book and Stiles watched as Laura warmed up her demeanor to actively engage Grace in conversation.

Peter cleared his throat, not to silence anyone but to grab at Stiles’ attention. It worked, because Stiles went from leaning over Ritsa’s shoulder to hear about Maximum Ride’s new adventure to swinging his face – stuffed with garlic bread – to face him. “Hm?”

Peter smiled bemusedly as Stiles forcibly chewed and swallowed away the bread. “I just wanted to ask how the cough medicine worked.”

For a second, Stiles stared back at him blankly until recent events caught up him in his mind. “Oh! It worked good. How's—?” Stiles gestured widely, not wanting to say ‘cigarette patches’.

“If making me irritable enough to challenge Camilla with her snapping, then yes, it's working fine.”

Stiles couldn't help the laughter that bubbled out of him. “I've been told she's always been like this.”

“Insufferable?” Peter asked. Camilla must have heard, through the shrill voices and swell of talking. She sat closer to Arthur, talking to Colton and Haleigh with Arthur and Darvon. After Peter spoke, she looked up and took some bread crust to hit him.

Stiles watched as Peter easily caught it in his napkin, because wow, Camilla had some good aim. He vaguely heard Bailey ask if that meant food fight, which thankfully, Camilla shut down before Ritsa could agree. The lasagna was the best kind for eating but the worst for throwing – super messy and hot.

Peter reclaimed his attention, after eating a bite of the lasagna. “Do you know what you want to do once you get out of high school?”

It was a standard question from an adult, but Stiles surprised himself by responding the way he would if Scott asked. “Make money.”

The answer obviously surprised Peter as well, his eyebrows raising and his lips curling into a tight smile to keep from laughing. “Probably not in Biology, though.”

Stiles really couldn't see why Derek couldn’t give Peter a second chance, mainly because he was making a bang-up new impression on Stiles. He kept it in the back of his mind, though, that Peter had managed to fool his family before. “Probably not.”

The conversation took a turn then, when Aiden leaned around Derek to get Stiles opinion on costumes. Peter joined Laura and Grace in their discussion, about playground areas. He even made sure to look interested in Grace’s detailed description of the preschool playground.

Aiden and Ethan were arguing over which set of twins to go as. Aiden wanted to go as the superhero twins from Teen Titan that spoke Spanish. Ethan argued that he would rather go as the two from Meet the Robinsons, because they couldn't speak Spanish. Derek listened to each, asking questions, and Stiles rested his chin on Derek's shoulder to listen as well. Most of his food was gone anyway.

The only peculiar thing was that when Stiles moved away for a moment, to take a sip from his glass, he caught Laura staring at them. She had a slight crinkle to her nose, as if she had tasted something bad, but overall she just looked confused. Not upset, but very confused.
The Sheriff was already in bed by the time Stiles crept in, but there was a note on the kitchen table. It said that Allison had called the house and to make sure to call her back. Stiles decided to take a shower first, mainly because of how Derek had walked him out and pressed him against the Jeep for their goodbye kiss.

He needed some alone time.

But, around eleven, he did end up calling her on his cell. She picked up on the fourth ring, sounding tired. “Hello?”

“Hey, Ally, it's Stiles.”

She yawned. “Hey, I called earlier.”

“I know, my dad told me. I was over at Derek's.” Stiles explained.

“Oh? How was—” the rest of her sentence was drowned out by a minute long yawn.

“Did I wake you up?” Stiles worried, not thinking that some people might want to get rest for the hell that was Monday.

“Yeah, I was taking a nap.” She responded. “’M really tired.”

Stiles nodded sympathetically, even if she couldn't see him do so. “Busy day?”

“Oh, no. Scott came over today. He can really tire me out, you know.”

“Ugh! Allison, I so did not need to know?” Stiles had to hear vague things from Scott, which was manageable, but to hear it from Allison was a different thing entirely.

She laughed at his sudden aversion. “Oh, shut up. You know how it is.” She paused. “You do know how it is, right?”

Stiles’ mouth fell open, completely shocked that Allison – of all people – would be trying to give him the sex talk. “No! I mean, I know the general idea, but – why would you think I know? Derek and I—we haven't—it hasn't been that long!” Stiles tripped over his words, his face inflamed.

“Really?” She whispered through the line. “I mean, I just kind of thought that you and he would—”

“—Why would you even think that?!” Stiles interrupted, practically shrieking. “This is not why you called, is it?”

“Oh, no, Lydia asked me to call.” Allison responded.

“Because of her party?” Stiles guessed.

“Yeah – I figure she's already got a hold of you, then.”

“She did,” Stiles groaned. “She's forcing me to go to the party.”

“With Derek?” Allison asked hopefully. “I mean, he's still very intimidating but he's trying. I can see he's trying.”

“He's been extended the ‘invitation’ as well. When is it?” Stiles was just glad they got off the last topic.

“Two weekends from now. It's the Halloween party.”

“Is Halloween already here?” Stiles asked absently.

Allison laughed. “First semester is almost half-way done.” She agreed.

“Thank God.” Stiles responded. “Thanks, Ally. I'll catch you tomorrow.”

“Night, Stiles.”
The two weeks came and went, with many days spent after school at the Hale house. Stiles stopped jumping when Peter would come behind him, leaning over him to inspect a problem that he was helping with. He'd explain the answers in a soft voice, right next to Stiles’ ear. At first, it deeply disturbed Stiles and then he realized that was just Peter. He seemed to only be able to express his feelings in creepy gestures.

Derek still refused to talk to him, but began to grudgingly take his advice on questions. It was progress. It was also progress, that half-way through the first week, Laura brought herself down to work on her homework with them. Camilla and Peter were both in the room at the time, even if Peter usually taught solo. The first day she said nothing to them, but rather just asked questions to the adults.

Stiles was persistent in her knowing that he wasn't some devil-worshipping homosexual. He was kind to her at all turns, sometimes going far enough that even Derek seemed surprised. By the end of the second week, she would greet him and ask him how he was, even if it was just a shade too civil and a shade less friendly.

“You never dote on me like that.” Derek faux complained, one day while they were hiding away at Stiles’ house. Stiles’ dad was there, and they had ordered pizza so it wasn't like they were alone. They just sometimes preferred the quiet.

“You know why I do it.” Stiles whined right back, arching so that his back was off Derek's chest and he could flip his head backwards to look at him upside down. It earned him a peck on the lips.

It was easy and relaxed. Almost too relaxed, Stiles thought. Whenever they went this side of playful, Derek would always lean back. It didn't matter where they were – pressed up against the Jeep, in Stiles’ room, the little hallway from the back yard next to the kitchen door – it all ended with Derek pulling back for both of them to gasp into each other's mouths and for Derek to move away.

Eventually, the weekend came. Stiles didn't bother putting anything special on – preferring to spend his time watching a few movies with his dad on his off day. When nine rolled around, he threw on some jeans and Derek's hoodie and drove over to get him.

It was obvious Derek didn't try either, with wearing his standard black shirt and blue jeans. Seriously, how many black shirts did he have? He climbed into the Jeep, letting Stiles honk to tell the family inside they were going. “So, are you excited for this party?” Stiles asked sarcastically as they pulled away.

“Actually, a little.” Derek answered honestly, which made Stiles feel a bit guilty for the way he phrased his question. “Don't get me wrong, I don't want to go. Just, it's the first party I've been invited to in a while.”

Stiles felt the need to apologize, but Derek's face held no regret. It also didn't show any bitterness at the fact – he knew he had been reclusive and thus didn't get invited places. “Lydia's probably going to maul us for not wearing a costume.”

Derek's brow furrowed. Stiles was doing a good job, splitting his gaze well between the road and his boyfriend. “Do people actually dress up?”

Stiles nodded, laughing. “It's a huge tradition, where everyone goes instead of trick-or-treating.”

“Did you go last year?” Derek asked.

“Yeah.” Stiles paused for a moment. “I went as Wonder Woman. Shaved my legs and everything.”

Stiles felt the urge to stretch his legs out, to put the long, gangly limbs on display for Derek's disbelieving eyes. It was talk for a good week that he showed up in full display of Wonder Woman's newest outfit, even fake boobs that he learned how to put to use from drag queen YouTube tutorials. He was fucking hot that night, and it didn't matter what anyone said.

True to his word, when they got into Lydia's house – already full with various boys in costumes and girls with animal ears – she flew at them. “What are you dressed as?” She demanded.

Stiles threw his hands up in mock defense. Derek must have seen it best to let him handle it, because he shifted slightly behind him. “You should be happy we came, really, Lyd.”

She still stood there, waiting for an explanation. Stiles felt his assurance in her being happy he was there slowly crumble as he searched for something to appease her. Thankfully, before he had to continue a shaky argument, Allison and Scott came up, looking punch drunk.

Ally took one look at Lydia's unfaltering glare before she intervened. “What's wrong?” She leaned close to Lydia, pulling away from Scott to talk to her.

The music was loud and Stiles couldn't quite catch what Lydia said. He knew the gist of it anyway. Ally looked back at Stiles, lips pursed. She must have come up with a good idea, by the way she moved towards him a second later. She grabbed his hood and pushed it over his head.

“Little red riding hood!” She cried happily, showing it off to the other two teens.

Scott laughed, but he didn't laugh as hard as last year. Stiles hoped Lydia didn't try and force him into a skirt because his leg hair had just begun to look really normal again. She didn't say anything, unhappy but well enough satisfied at the moment. Or maybe bored. Lydia sashayed away.

Ally hugged him before her and Scott were dashing away again. Scott waved over his head at Stiles before disappearing among the throng. Stiles started to turn to berate Derek for saving himself and not Stiles.

And it was started to, because Derek grabbed his hips firmly from behind and moved them towards the wall and away from the front entrance. He didn't let up when Stiles knew that they had met up with the wall. He shifted Stiles closer, pressing his back firmly to Derek's front. And, oh, Stiles was officially on fire. His body was a city and it was going down in flames like Rome.

He could feel the way Derek's denim rubbed against his, the way his hands held them steady and mind numbingly close. Stiles’ brain helpfully supplied that it must have been less than a minute, for the small eternity that it claimed in Stiles’ mind. Finally, Derek spoke, pressing his lips to the curve of Stiles’ ear.

“If you're little red riding hood, does that make me the big bad wolf?” He chuckled darkly, the hot puffs of breath shooting straight to Stiles’ groin. “Do you want to dance, little red?”

He didn't give Stiles a chance to respond, which, not like Stiles would if he had the chance. What had gotten into Derek, at the mention of Stiles being little red riding hood, Stiles didn't know, but he wasn't going to jinx it. Derek pulled him roughly into the swarm until Stiles could no longer even identify the faces that went with the sweating bodies around him.

So maybe parties weren't so bad.

Derek let Stiles flail around a bit, raising his arms ridiculously and jumping. Derek stayed with the throng, letting the beat and bodies around him move him. It was closed space that every few minutes Stiles’ arm or chest would brush or bump against Derek. Their faces were inches away, Stiles euphorically smiling. He knew he was gangly and uncoordinated and probably the worst dancer here but his boyfriend was next to him, enjoying the moment with him.

Stiles was going to say something, anything really, opening his mouth to voice it. Before he could get a word out though, Derek grabbed him, halting his jumping and kissed him. It was open-mouthed, wet heat, filthy. Stiles would have stopped all together moving on the dance floor if Derek didn't have his hands around his waist, swaying him to the rhythm.

Stiles brought his hands up to Derek's neck, one tangling in his hair. Derek and he kissed sloppy, more wanting to feel the slick sweet press of each other's lips and tongues more than learning the logistics. Neither kissed well, new to the whole dating scene, but neither cared much, because Stiles had his hand gripping the short strands of Derek's hair as Derek bruised his hips. He was just everywhere, crowding completely into Stiles, it felt like. And Stiles loved it.

Derek pulled away before Stiles, panting harshly against Stiles’ reddened lips. He moved his head back as far as Stiles would allow to marvel at their handiwork. Stiles wanted to whine for more, but he was now starkly aware of where they were and how they had practically mouth-fucked each other. His cheeks darkened, not that Derek could tell very well in the low light. He swooped back, dragging out Stiles’ bottom lip with his teeth before pulling off completely.

It hurt some, the pressure and pull a little too tight. Stiles blinked against the pain, expecting it to put some chill on his heated body. But it excited him, crazily, excited him way too much for the party. And there was no hiding it from Derek, who stepped away a second or two later. Stiles did his best to not deflate, expecting them to go sit down somewhere.

Derek spun him around, Stiles’ feet tripping as Derek turned him. He could feel the vise Derek had on his hips, pulling him back to Derek’s chest. He used his position to get Stiles to move – a sharp roll of the hips that, when moving back, could feel the very outline of Derek.

He was fucking hard too.

Stiles stuttered for a moment, entire body straightening from impact for a moment, before Derek pulled him back into the movement. He let his sweaty palms wrap around Derek's wrists, head dropped low. Every move burned into him, and he was thanking the low light. Derek seemed gone too, mouthing at the back of Stiles’ neck, occasionally murmuring song lyrics into his salty skin.

He let go of time, and of feeling anything but the rough of Derek's jeans. Stiles pressed against him hard, grinding the best he could with Derek's help. Whenever he'd push too much, he was rewarded with bruising hands and a wild gasp behind him. Stiles let the ache, the pulse, the scene flood him. He peeled himself off of Derek to turn around and grab his face.

Derek looked ridiculously wrecked, lips red and skin dark from all that Stiles could see. Stiles kissed at his jaw, little, wet nips along his scruff. “Can we please go somewhere else?” Stiles whispered.

Derek looked over him with hungry eyes before nodding. They stumbled out of the crowd, completely unaware of those around them. They made it outside to the crisp air, which cooled the sweat but nothing else. Before they managed over to the Jeep, Stiles couldn't help but push up to kiss Derek savagely.

He pulled at his shirt, probably ruining it. Derek returned the kiss, just as eagerly as he gave it. It did everything to encourage Stiles and his greedy hands to roam the expanse of Derek's torso. Derek shivered under his touch, a needy sound getting lost between them.

“What the hell is going on here?!” A voice thundered. Stiles would have paid it no mind, except that it's vicinity was startling.

Derek and he pulled apart, trying to control their heartbeats as they identified the speaker. Chris Argent. He was staring at them angrily, jaw working. Stiles had no answer that wasn't hateful or sarcastic. “I come to get my daughter and the first thing I see is two girly boys all over each other! You should be ashamed – acting as if what you do has any place out in the open!”

Stiles opened his mouth to argue back, hating the Argents and hating their way of doing things. Derek beat him to the punch though. “We’re doing nothing wrong. We're teens, who happen to be dating and we aren't acting any different than a heterosexual couple would.” His voice was a respectful calm, right before the storm.

“Well that's the thing – get yourselves girlfriends and maybe no one would complain. But right now, I have every right to complain. It's disgusting, and letting other people see you? You wonder why people know how wrong it is?” His face was twisting into a grimace, cold hate seeping into his eyes.

“You don't have the right to complain!” Stiles shrieked, an anger bubbling up from deep inside. “And yelling at us is just prejudiced harassment, so I think you should just stop!”

Chris laughed at them, a short, angry one. “You're the ones harassing me, with your sexual exploits everywhere.”

“Actually, if you want to complain about them, you'll have to complain about all the teenagers in there.” A voice called out. Stiles swung his attention from Chris's darkened face, to the street. Peter stood under the streetlight, a couple of feet from them. He didn't spare a glance at Derek or Stiles, rather staring at Chris. “That includes your daughter.”

Chris recoiled from Peter, who's voice held a threat but who's face held warm regard. He cast another glance at the couple before pushing past them to the house. Stiles wanted to punch him as he moved.

“I'll take you two home.” Peter advanced toward them, making Stiles falter in his glare at Chris Argent’s back. “Don't think I missed your little show.”

Stiles felt mortified, and handed over his keys without objection. Derek climbed into the back, after brushing Stiles’ arm gently. It was almost like an apology, but Stiles didn't see his need to. He didn't talk as they rode over to the Hale house, and Peter amused himself by humming and checking the mirror with a sly smirk.

They pulled up to the house in silence. There was a beat before Derek climbed out. “Thank you.” He said stiffly, directing it at Peter. Stiles was surprised, but happy. Maybe they could start talking and make tutoring less awkward on the whole.

Stiles didn't count it as hurtful that he didn't kiss or acknowledge Stiles – they were both aware that they had plenty of contact (even if they didn't agree). Stiles waited for Peter to hand him his keys and step out, but Peter started up the car without a pause.

“Are you driving me home?” Stiles asked.

Peter looked over at him, a smile playing at his lips. “I said I would, didn't I?”

“But how will you get home afterwards?”

Peter shrugged, the V-neck tugging on his collar bone. “I was going for a night jog, anyway. I'll get myself home.”

Stiles couldn't help but frown. “Running at night is dangerous.”

Peter took his eyes completely off of the road, a light in them. It made Stiles want to shrink into the seat, a fear in him. “Maybe I like danger.”

He pulled sharply, turning that wicked corner. Stiles didn't have a second to brace himself, and was thrown into the door. He winced. “Are you okay?” Peter’s concerned voice was back. Just an regular uncle, concerned about his nephew’s boyfriend’s wellbeing. “I forgot how sharp that turn is.”

“I'm okay.” Stiles responded, shifting back to normal. He pushed the uneasiness down, instead fiddling with his shirt hem and shake his leg.

“Good.” Peter sighed. “Everything is very different now. It's the same, actually, but I guess I'm different.”

Stiles didn't respond, feeling very jittery. He looked at the clock – it was going on eleven thirty. Peter was lost in nostalgia for a majority of the ride, but when he focused in, he seemed to realize something was wrong. “Are you alright?” He asked again.

Stiles was nodding quickly, without his say-so. “Yeah, I just feel really pent-up, I don't know. I think I need—” Stiles could have hit himself. On good nights he’d go to bed at twelve, and his body had gotten use to a dose of medication at this time now. He twisted to grab his bag from the back and felt Peter swerve a little, adjusting to his new position. “Adderall.” Stiles said satisfactorily, pulling it out from his bag. He swallowed two dry, wincing a bit at the clinical taste.

“You have ADHD?” Peter asked conversationally.

“Yeah, I'm one of the few cases apparently. Since it's so bad, I get the option of scheduling my own medication times.”

Peter frowned disapprovingly. “As long as you have it under control, i guess it's fine. But it could become a problem.” Stiles was going to say, of course, he knew that, when he realized Peter was talking from experience. He promptly kept silent. “Has anyone told you it could be bad to keep medication in your car?”

Stiles thought back to Derek, and smiled wryly. “Yeah, it's been said once or twice.”

They were on his street, and though Peter still didn't look okay with the whole thing, he didn't say anymore on it. They pulled up to the drive, lights all out, thankfully. Stiles didn't want to explain why a Peter Hale was in his car. “Thank you,” Stiles said dutifully.

He rounded the corner of the Jeep to collect his keys, which Peter held delicately. He smiled at Stiles, eyes soft. “Of course.” He took a step closer and pulled up one of Stiles’ arms. Stiles, who were jerk back if the electric blue eyes in front of him weren't so captivating and terrifying. Peter dropped the keys into Stiles’ splayed palm. “Have a nice night.” A single squeeze, and Stiles was released, Peter near halfway down the driveway already.

Stiles stumbled upstairs, all of his emotions too peaked for him to want to do anything but shower. His heart felt out of place when Peter acted that way, as if he wasn't human. It reminded Stiles that Derek had warned how manipulative he could be. If Stiles was completely honest, Peter made him feel like prey.