Lydia had been correct about the werewolf guard that would be posted. Stiles figured he shouldn't have been surprised since Lydia was usually right.
The werewolf on guard duty that night turned out to be Isaac who looked at Stiles with furrowed brows as he hopped out of Chris's car.
"Where have you been?" The interrogation started immediately, Stiles really shouldn't have been surprised. Hell, if it had been Derek there, he'd probably have had a nose on his neck, trying to see if he reeked of Peter. Which he probably did, just not for the reason that everyone had been assuming.
"Shouldn't you be macking on Allison?" Stiles asked before turning to the car. "Thanks for the ride, Chris."
Isaac flushed, "Seriously, dude? In front of him ?"
Stiles felt like he had taken a step back to sophomore year at the sight of Chris's smile. "Good night, Isaac," Chris called. Scott had told him in detail about the disastrous night at the Argent's for dinner back when Kate shot Derek and he couldn't help wonder how many dinners like that Isaac had sat through with Chris and Allison.
Chris drove off and Stiles fixed Isaac with a glare. "I don't need a werewolf bodyguard to keep Peter from coming over and, to answer your earlier question, I was helping Chris out with a hunt."
Isaac frowned, "Stiles we're worried about you. Like— this is Peter we're talking about."
Stiles unlocked his front door and scowled at Isaac. "I appreciate the concern but I can promise you I know full well what — and who — I'm doing." He paused before opening the door. "Just go back to Scott's, Isaac. The only thing I'm planning on doing tonight is sleeping."
Isaac had that kicked puppy look on his face that wrenched Stiles' heart. "Scott's worried about you."
Those words were a gut punch.
"I'm fine, dude, I promise," Stiles said gently and walked into his house, shutting the door behind him. He knew Isaac was still waiting outside the door, concern plastered all over his features.
"The puppies care about you." Peter's cool voice made Stiles nearly jump out of his skin. "It's really quite sweet."
"What the hell are you doing here?" Stiles hissed. There was no way in hell Peter didn't know that the pack was going to keep Stiles' place under strict supervision to make it a No Zombie Werewolf Zone.
"You were distressed tonight, it'd be irresponsible of me if I didn't make sure you were okay." Peter walked out of the dark and laid his hand under Stiles' chin, tilting it up. "We are pack afterall."
Stiles brushed Peter's hand away. "As I'm sure you heard me telling Isaac, I'm fine, Peter."
Stiles had hoped that Peter would drop the matter, but of course he didn't. "You just watched five people get viciously murdered. I don't have to be a werewolf to tell how rattled it got you."
"I lived through the Nogitsune bombing the station in my body, I'm fine."
Peter grabbed Stiles by the back of his neck and led him through his house with such familiarity that it made him feel vaguely nauseated. "You're not fine, Stiles, you smell like the complete opposite of fine right now."
"I could scream for Isaac and he'd rip your throat out right now."
"Then do it." Peter spun Stiles around in front of his bedroom door so he could stare into his eyes. "Call for him right now, I'll even stand still and help him rip my throat out."
Stiles worked his jaw and glared at Peter. "Just leave, Peter."
"I will if you answer this question for me." Peter laid a hand on the wall behind Stiles. "Why do you hate me?"
"I don't hate you; I just don't trust or like you."
"So then what would I need to do to get you to trust me?" Peter asked, head cocked to the side. "I want to know how many times I'll need to say that I'm on your side until you believe me."
Stiles laughed, it was a bitter sound. "You only play for your side."
"I wasn't lying when I said that I liked you, Stiles." Peter was far too close to him and Stiles couldn't help his shiver. "You and Christopher interest me in a way few people do. Especially humans."
"What's your game here, Peter? Get close to me so you can tear out Scott's spine?"
"I'll let you in on a little secret." Peter's breath ghosted across Stiles' ear as he leaned in. "I'm not after Scott's alpha spark and I mean no harm to his little teenage pack."
"So then what are you after?" Despite everything, Stiles found himself believing Peter's words. Even if he was after the power of an alpha again, he could have found a way to gain it without hurting anyone that Stiles cared about.
"You're a smart boy, I'm sure you can figure that out yourself."
You , was the answer that Peter refused to say, Stiles thought. Maybe he wasn't after Scott's alpha spark but he still wanted to take something from the pack. The hungry look in Peter's eyes was directed towards Stiles like it had been since they first met in the hospital.
"Just leave, Peter." Stiles knew how tired and sad he sounded, but in the moment he couldn't bring himself to care about showing Peter weakness. He knew that if it wasn't that weakness he showed to Peter, it would be another one. One that Stiles wasn't sure that he wanted to think about himself.
"We both know that's not what you really want." Despite his words, Peter backed off and started retreating down the hall. "You know where to find me whenever you change your mind, Stiles."
Stiles silently watched Peter's retreating form as he hopped out of a window and leaned his head against the wall behind him. He waited there like that for a few moments before he walked into his bedroom and flopped down on his bed. When he dreamt, his dreams were filled with oil slicks, red, red blood, and the screams of the dead.
——
"Stiles? Are you okay?" Stiles was broken out of his daytime nightmare by Lydia's gentle touch on his shoulder.
"Five more people died last night," Stiles answered. "I saw it happen in front of me."
Lydia's brows knit together and she pulled him aside into Coach's empty office. "What happened?"
"Peter kidnapped me and Chris last night and we ended up staking out the unicorn." Stiles ran a hand through his hair and frowned. "It was... it was massive, Lydia. Bigger than any draft horse and it radiated darkness. I don't think the campers even fully processed what was happening before it had its horn in them. Maybe that was a mercy, but I just can't get their screams out of my head."
Lydia paled. "What color was the horn?"
"It looked like was made of amythe—" Stiles broke off and looked up at Lydia. "You haven't seen this thing, right?"
"In person? No. In my nightmares where it stabs someone I care about — someone different every time? Yes. I thought they were just stress dreams but now I'm not so sure."
Stiles swore softly. "We need to tell Chris and Peter. If you're dreaming of it stabbing people then..."
"Then it means someone's going to die." Lydia grabbed Stiles' arm and started walking. "We're going to Peter's, tell Chris to meet us there."
"It's the middle of the day, if we just leave, someone's gonna get suspicious."
A grin pulled at the corners of Lydia's mouth. "Not if we tell my mom that you're taking me home because I have a migraine. She gets pretty bad ones, so..." Lydia winked at him. "It's been a go to for ages for me."
"You're a demon, Lydia," Stiles laughed.
Fifteen minutes later, the two were on their way to Peter's apartment, officially excused from class. Any other day, in any other circumstance, Stiles would have been thrilled. But unfortunately, killer unicorns the size of a large truck tended to put a damper on good moods.
"Lying to Scott about this shit makes me feel like the most garbage human being to ever touch this planet." He couldn't get Isaac's kicked puppy face out of his mind. "Like, he's the greatest person in the world and here I am going behind his back, watching people get killed, and working with the fucking devil to murder someone."
Lydia placed a hand on Stiles' shoulder and looked at him gently. "If this thing is as scary as you described and what's been in my nightmares, we're making the right choice here."
"It doesn't make it suck any less."
"I'm glad I wasn't there last night," Lydia said quietly. "I've walked into so many horrific murder scenes but it doesn't get any easier." She shuddered slightly and looked out the window. "I don't know what I'd do if I saw one happen in front of me, not a hallucination, but something real."
"It was horrible." Stiles thought back to his nightmare from the previous night. The oil and the blood that mixed into something nauseating and the screams echoed loudly in his mind. "I want to make sure that it never does what it did last night again."
They sat in thoughtful silence for the remainder of the drive to Peter's apartment. It was only when Stiles pulled into a visitors spot that he quietly said. "Peter told me last night that he wasn't going to harm the pack." He paused and Lydia looked at him expectantly. "I... I feel stupid for saying this, but I think I trust him on that. Like, despite everything, I don't think he was lying."
Out of everyone Stiles knew, Lydia had the most reasons to laugh in his face. But instead she just blinked at him. "I trust your judgement, Stiles. I don't like him, but I also don't think he's a heartless monster."
Lydia paused as she got out of Stiles' Jeep. "He seems to genuinely care about Malia and he's given me space after making me have a complete mental breakdown. So I think he's a total piece of shit, but who knows, maybe he'll become an alpha and just leave Beacon Hills for good afterwards."
"If only we could get that lucky," Stiles laughed. But his laugh turned sour at the end, "He wants me, Lydia. The scary part is I don't know how long I'll be able to turn him down for." He thought of the way Peter's breath ghosted over his ear as he whispered into it the previous night — he thought of Peter's firm hands around him, and swallowed hard.
"Sweetie, I slept with Aidan way longer than I should of because he was hot and had a great dick. It would have been a crime for me to have not climbed him like a tree." The matter of fact manner in which Lydia spoke nearly drew a laugh from Stiles. "Peter's disgustingly hot in a supervillain way, so it's not like I don't see why you'd be conflicted here."
"You're really raising my confidence in my ability to hold out here," Stiles said dryly.
"I'm just saying, it makes sense that you'd find him hot. I mean I do and he literally destroyed my mind sophomore year. Whether you hold out or not, I think you can beat him at his own game."
"And how would I do that?" Stiles asked.
"You've already added pieces to it that he hadn't been expecting. Just keep doing that, he has his plans but you can have yours."
"That's... not a terrible idea actually."
Lydia smirked. "I know. I don't have bad ideas."
Stiles held the door to the apartment complex open for Lydia. "Unless you count skipping school to go meet with Peter Hale."
"Details," Lydia waved him off. "But I don't like the fact that he's after you."
"Nobody does." Chris was standing at the elevators, waiting for one to come to the ground floor.
"Unfortunately it's Peter and he still hasn't told us where to find the caster, he just gave us visual confirmation that yes the horse is real and it's fucking terrifying. So we're stuck with this for the meantime," Stiles hissed out a frustrated breath.
"I can kill him." Chris stared at the elevator doors as they opened up. "God knows I've been given enough reasons to slash his throat."
"Do me a favor and save the throat slashing for when I'm not in the room." Lydia's tone was bright but Stiles could see the way her hands tensed.
Chris hit the button for Peter's floor and looked at Lydia with sympathy in his eyes. "You don't have to come with us."
Lydia shook her head. "I can deal with Peter. I don't like him, but I'm a big girl and can handle people I dislike. I'd just like to be kept away from as many bloody scenes as possible."
"There's people I can talk to, resources I can find to help you." Chris sounded thoughtful as he softly spoke. His fingers traced the braille by the elevator buttons. "You don't have to keep waking up by bodies."
Lydia smiled, it was sad and bone weary expression. "Allison has already given me the info most of your contacts who could help. It's helped a little but I'm not sure that there's not much more anyone can do."
It was so goddamned unfair that everyone else had something magnificent to balance out the suck that came with being a supernatural. Sure, the werewolves had to fight rage and the desire to kill, but they were blessed with becoming Superman outside of that. Kira was crazy fast and couldn't be electrocuted, she just had to fight her urges to cause trouble. But Lydia? She got nightmares and visions. No super strength, no super speed. Just an occasional hallucinations that tormented her no matter if she was awake or dreaming.
Stiles was pulled out of his thoughts as the elevator slowed and the doors opened as they got to Peter's floor and Stiles and Lydia followed Chris to Peter's apartment. Stiles felt tension coiling in his gut with every step. He hoped that he'd never stop feeling the same kind of nervous tension at the thought of Peter. Nervousness was better than falling into an easy rhythm with the capricious werewolf. Relaxing around Peter was dangerous.
Peter's cold voice cut through the silence in the hall. "Even more teenagers to avoid my home, lovely. What's next? Next year's Halloween party at my apartment rather than the loft?" Peter was waiting outside his door. He looked to be genuinely annoyed as he glared at the group. It was so different from the tender looks he had given Stiles the previous night.
"You invaded my head, I can invade your apartment." Lydia stood up straighter and fixed Peter with a scathing look.
Stiles wanted to add that Peter had frequently broken into his home, but Lydia's point seemed strong enough.
"Touché," Peter murmured. "May I know what's so important that you two aren't at school and are instead bothering me?"
"We thought your social life was so pathetic that you needed the visit." Stiles drummed his fingers on his forearms as he crossed his arms against his chest. "And Lydia's been having nightmares."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "While I'm flattered that you think I can give her a kiss on the forehead and some warm milk to keep her nightmares away, I'm not her therapist. I don't see why this is relevant to me."
"She's a banshee, jackass. She's been dreaming of the unicorn killing people she knows. Which means one of us is probably going to die."
"Or someone else is going to die, to be entirely honest I wouldn't mind seeing some of your friends be gutted by it." Despite his words, Peter opened his door and walked into his apartment. He didn't formally invite them in but he also didn't slam the door in their faces. Stiles took it as invitation enough.
"How pleasant." Lydia's words were clipped but she was the first one through the door, head held high and shoulders square.
Stiles didn't have nearly her poise nor silent grace as he followed her inside.
"I expected more dead bodies and less Martha Stewart." Lydia raised an eyebrow as she inspected the apartment.
"The sex dungeon's in the first guest bedroom on the left and the well where I toss the bodies is in the other one." Peter was leaning against a wall and stared at them with a dry expression. "Now what other details do you remember from you dream? Any landmarks?"
"You already know where the caster is, why do you need more landmark details?" Stiles asked.
"Because I want to know if someone's going to die before I'm ready to confront him or while we're confronting him. Use your brain before asking a question the next time. Lydia, details." Peter looked towards Lydia and tilted his head ever so slightly upwards.
"Forgive me for mostly only paying attention to the giant murder horse killing people I love, but I don't remember much of the surroundings. It's mostly just dark." Lydia shrugged and met Peter's eyes with a firm gaze. "There might have been a window there, but again, darkness and terrifying horses tend to not leave much room for appreciating the scenery."
"Well tell everyone you care about to stay in well lit rooms for the next couple of weeks and you'll be all good." Peter clasped his hands together. "Now is there anything else you need or can I get back to running my IRS scams without getting interrupted?"
Chris narrowed his eyes. "Easy, Peter, you shouldn't make up jobs that sound like something you'd actually enjoy doing."
"I'm going to your office, the old ladies will have to keep their five thousand dollars in iTunes gift cards for now." Stiles rolled his eyes at the glare the two men shared but he wasn't able to stop the twinge of curiosity that built up in him. He knew the Hales were loaded but he had no clue what Peter did. Even if he didn't have an honest job, Stiles was interested in knowing what he did to pass the days.
But learning what Peter did in his free time besides scheme and cook babies wasn't what they were all there for. Even if Peter wasn't taking Lydia's dream seriously, he had a wealth of resources in his office that Stiles could make use of.
"My apartment isn't a public library," Peter said with a frown. "I don't want your high school study groups here when you have history projects." And in a lower voice he added, "At least call ahead, it's common courtesy."
"Lydia, Stiles, go ahead. Give me and Peter a moment to talk." Chris's gaze flickered between them and Peter. Stiles wanted to object but Lydia grabbed his wrist and tugged him down the hall.
"Let them duke it out," she said quietly. "To be entirely honest here whatever's going on between them is going to end in them blowing each other's brains out one way or another."
Stiles stared at Lydia for several long moments as his brain processed her words. It happened slowly and his brows drew closer together as his jaw dropped when her meaning finally clicked. " Lydia ," he hissed, feeling strangely scandalized.
Lydia's lips quirked into a smirk. "Stiles, you can't tell me you haven't been thinking the same thing."
"Uh, no." Usually Stiles couldn't shut up but he was having trouble finding words to say. "Dude they fucking loathe each other."
"Do you think I liked Aidan during all that bullshit?" Lydia asked. When Stiles didn't respond, she continued. "Sometimes if you hate someone enough it leads to some really wild sex."
The image of Peter on his knees for Chris flashed in his eyes and Stiles shook his head to clear out the thought. "I'm just going to pretend like you didn't just say all of that to me. We're never going to talk about that topic again and instead move to something more productive." He opened the door to the office and stepped inside. It was more organized than the last time, there were still some books out but every surface wasn't overflowing with them. "We can do some research and try and figure out your dream."
——
Stiles hated that his dad has been on night shift for the past while. Having freedom of the house was great until there was no one to wake him from his nightmares.
His house was empty when he got back from dropping Lydia off at her place. After dealing with Peter — who had been in a much better mood after Chris's talk with him, something Lydia had raised a brow at — Chris had taken Stiles and her out for dinner before letting them head back home. That had been a nice distraction from the hell that was the rest of his life. But unfortunately, all distractions had to end at some point.
Stiles ran his hand along the bannister as he walked up the stairs. Mentally, he counted the number of times his fingers brushed the wood, an old habit he hadn't been able to break. He took the steps slowly, afraid of what would happen when he finally laid down to go to bed.
There was nothing that he hated more than being so terrified of going to sleep. The memories of the Nogitsune still haunted him, especially the times where he couldn't tell when he was awake or asleep. The nights where he screamed himself awake after the endless loops of dreams had been the worst, but his newfound inability to close his eyes without seeing the corrupted unicorn tearing open ribcages like they were made of tissue paper and balsa wood was starting to get up there.
When he was with other people, he was able to distract his mind from it. With Lydia, he could find comfort in knowing she was haunted by the same sorts of dreams. But alone it was so easy to be overwhelmed.
Stiles paused at the top of the stairs and pulled out his phone. His thumb hovered over Chris's name in his contacts for longer than it should have. Thinking of Chris was comforting, he knew the man would understand without asking. But Allison would be there and he didn't want to explain to her why he was suddenly so close to her dad.
Scott was the next person he thought of. After everything with the Nogitsune, Scott had been so patient with him and let him sleep at his place whenever he couldn't stand being alone in the house. But it had been months since he had last needed to do that.
Stiles let out a shaky breath and dialed in a number that wasn't in his contacts. He felt like he was making a mistake but he also knew that they were the one person who wouldn't ask too many questions.
"No, you can't invite the lacrosse team over for a post game celebration." Stiles could hear the way Peter rolled his eyes as he answered the phone after a few rings.
"Hysterical, Peter," Stiles responded dryly. "So I guess the orgy with the cheerleading team is out of the question too?"
"Unless you show up in uniform."
A laugh bubbled from Stiles chest, surprising himself. "In your dreams, you fucking pervert."
A low chuckle played over his phone's speaker before Peter asked, "So besides taunting me with the thought of your skinny ass in a skirt, what did you need?"
Stiles paused, breath catching in his throat. "My dad's working the night shift and..." he paused and swallowed hard. He knew he was making a bad decision but he couldn't stop himself. "I don't think I can be alone tonight. Can I come and crash on your couch? Fair warning, I tend to scream myself awake when I have nightmares. I'd ask Chris but he has Allison and explaining all this to her would end in disaster."
"I'll pick you up." Peter's response was instant. "I'll be there in ten minutes."
"I can drive mys—" Stiles started to protest but was cut off.
"Just be ready and waiting for me at the door."
Before Stiles could respond, Peter had hung up. He shuddered to think of the speeds Peter would be hitting to make it to his place in ten minutes. If he had been in a spiteful mood, he could have called up his dad to let him know that his deputies should be on the lookout for a black Mercedes going at least double the speed limit. Hell, after Peter's chilly reception of him, Chris, and Lydia earlier, he should have.
But he wasn't going to jeopardize his chance of not waking up from his nightmares in an empty house. Insufferable, smug, capricious bastard that Peter might have been, he still was a warm body that wouldn't ask questions.
Peter showed up almost exactly ten minutes later and slowed to a stop on the street outside Stiles' house. He didn't say anything as Stiles shouldered his backpack and slid into the passenger seat of the car, he just had the music on a low thrum and let Stiles stare out the window.
After a while, Peter spoke, "I'm sorry that you saw what happened last night." He had a note in his voice that would have sounded like genuine concern if it had come from anyone else.
"I've seen a lot of terrible shit, it's just giving me nightmares because it's the most recent, not because it's the worse." The way the Nogitsune reveled in causing pain had been his worst source of nightmare after everything ended. There were nights where he had woken up screaming after dreaming of himself carving apart Scott or Allison or his dad and feeling nothing but pure joy as he felt their pain and agony flow through him.
Give him a few weeks and he'd probably be back to those nightmares. Maybe in a week his nightmare would be him and the Nogitsune as the unicorn, celebrating as they tore hearts from chests.
"I still dream of the fire and watching as my entire family died while I lived." Peter wasn't looking at Stiles as he spoke. "It's common knowledge that we butted heads, but I genuinely loved my sister. You'll go through much the same with Scott in your future; he wants peace to be bloodshed free but you know the true cost of a happy ending."
Stiles' lips twitched into an ironic smile. "To be entirely honest, I don't know if a happily ever after is possible."
"It's not." Peter shook his head and flicked on his turn signal before taking a right turn. "But it's even less possible if you won't get off your moral high ground to do what's necessary. I suppose that's why packs have enforcers, that way only one person has to dirty their hands if the rest of the pack wants to stay pure."
"We're so fucked up," Stiles laughed bitterly. "You, me, and Chris, just a trio of seriously fucked up dudes."
"I'm the pinnacle of mental health. Maybe you and Argent should see therapists but I've never met a man more well adjusted than me."
Stiles was surprised by how genuine his laugh was at that. "And so humble."
Peter's teeth flashed white in the darkness. "There's nothing worse than false modesty."
"Maybe learn how to turn the false modesty into real modesty— that's my suggestion."
"I'd say that I would take that to heart, but then I'd be lying." Peter slowed as he turned into his complex and parked. His eyes flickered to Stiles, "You're going to be grilled at school tomorrow."
Stiles winced. "There was a reason you weren't my first choice besides me just being afraid that you'd murder me in my sleep." He fought the urge to pull out his phone, there were probably already several missed calls from Scott, asking about why the hell he got into a car with Peter. Honestly, he was surprised that his werewolf guard of the night hadn't confronted them.
"I base all of my self worth over being your first choice in all situations so I'm incredibly hurt right now." Peter got out of the car and cocked an eyebrow expectantly at Stiles.
"I'm sure you do." Stiles swung his backpack over a shoulder and grabbed his pillow. "I bet my opinion means everything to you."
"You know it does." Peter pinched Stiles' chin between two fingers and shook it lightly. "Every time you disapprove of my actions I can feel myself withering away just that much more."
Stiles laughed again and he couldn't believe that he was genuinely enjoying spending time with Peter. He tried to remind himself of the nervousness he should have been feeling, the way Peter had been an absolute jackass earlier, but all of those failed to mean anything as Peter wrapped an arm around his shoulders to lead him inside.
"I have some homework I need to do," Stiles said when they got inside Peter's apartment. He threw his pillow on the couch and set his backpack down next to the kitchen table.
"How mundane," Peter sounded slightly interested and he hovered.
"I am a human, there has to be something mundane about me."
"What do they teach you these days anyway?" Peter asked as Stiles took some notebooks out of his backpack. "Apparently manners are out of the curriculum."
"They must have done a shit job teaching you them back in the fifteen hundreds."
Peter huffed out a low laugh. "I might have skipped those days, too busy sacrificing virgins in the woods."
Stiles grinned and laughed along with him. "Anyway, I have a big report slash research project thing for history I've been working on gathering my thoughts for."
"What's it on?" Peter pulled out a chair and sat down next to Stiles at the table.
"Cuba in the Cold War and how smaller countries suffered thanks to Russia and the US's dick measuring contest." Stiles flipped open one of the notebooks to the page that covered his general idea for the paper. "It's supposed to be like our big hurrah research project for our senior year."
"I really hope 'How Smaller Countries Suffered Thanks To Russia And The United States' Dick Measuring Contest' is the actual title you're going with."
They slipped into a comfortable silence after that with Stiles getting engrossed in his prep work. Occasionally, he'd ask Peter for his feedback on an idea or Peter would ask him about something he was writing down. After a while, Peter got up from the table to cook himself a quick dinner. Whatever it was smelled amazing.
"Are you hungry?" Peter asked, midway through cooking.
"No, I'm good, Chris took Lydia and I out earlier." He tried to ignore the way he was drooling internally.
"Good because I wasn't going to feed you anyway." There was a teasing glint in Peter's eyes that hadn't been there earlier that day when he invaded his apartment.
"Asshole," Stiles laughed.
After a moment of trying and failing to focus on his project, Stiles asked Peter, "So what do you do anyway, like for a job?"
Peter cocked a brow at him and chewed his bite of food slowly. "Why the hell would I have a job? I've got enough both in the bank and invested to keep me set for life," he said after he swallowed. "I used to be a lawyer before the fire, but the whole six years in a coma thing meant it would be more of a pain in the ass to get started than it was worth."
"Yeah, you being a lawyer checks out," Stiles hummed. "Let me guess, criminal prosecution and you really liked making them cry."
Fangs flashed when Peter grinned at him. "I made one guy piss himself once, it was great."
Stiles could picture that so easily it was almost scary. There was no way Peter had been any less of an intelligent asshole back before the fire so it was easy to imagine him humiliating a defendant before the judge. "It's way too easy to imagine this situation, I bet all the defense attorneys hated you."
"Oh they despised me, I only ever lost a few cases. I had my car get keyed once after I humiliated one of the top defense attorneys in court and you can bet your ass I made the guy who did it pay."
"Terrifying."
Peter smirked and took another bite of his dinner. "I was also a hitman for a while."
Stiles paused. "You're joking, right?"
Peter didn't say anything, he just kept the smirk on his face.
"This is another underground network of caves, yeah?" Stiles tried again.
He never did get an answer from Peter that night. He made himself feel a little better by telling himself that Peter was joking.
By the time eleven rolled around, Stiles was fighting to stay awake. It wasn't unusual for him to be up late but he was still fighting exhaustion from the previous night's trek and the low thrum of the news on Peter's tv made his eyes feel like lead.
"Do you have any blanket or something I can use on your couch?" Stiles asked.
"You're not sleeping on the couch."
"So a guest bed then?"
"You're not sleeping alone, I can smell the anxiety rolling off of you."
Stiles felt his brows draw together as his mind thought over Peter's words. "Dude I know I told my friends we were sleeping together but that was a lie."
Peter growled, a sound from low in his chest. "I'm not going to violate you, Stiles. I'm also not going to have you waking up my neighbors with your screams in the middle of the night."
"Pretty sure sleeping in the same bed as you isn't the solution to my night terrors. Jesus, no wonder you refused to help Lydia out with her nightmares."
Peter narrowed his eyes, they were flashing wolf blue and Stiles wondered how close the wolf was under his skin. "Shut up and trust me."
"That's asking a lot."
Peter stood up and stalked over to him. Stiles' eyes flickered to the claws that grew and sank back into his skin, like he was flexing them as a cat would. "I'm not going to do anything that would hurt you. Trust me and stop having nightmares for a night or don't trust me and have fun being tormented by the horrors in your mind."
Stiles met Peter's eyes and couldn't help the way he softened as he wondered how many nights Peter had suffered alone with his own horrors playing behind his eyelids. "If you try anything, I'm going to help Chris rearrange your guts." He winced as he reconsidered the words he spoke.
Luckily from him, Peter didn't say anything, probably unwilling to risk his chance to have Stiles in his bed. Stiles had no doubt in his mind that he'd be mercilessly teased about his choice of phrase at a later point by Peter. He had that look in his eyes like he was cataloguing blackmail.
"In bed with a psychopathic werewolf, my lucky day," Stiles muttered under his breath.
"No need to sound so happy about it, pup," Peter stalked ahead of him to his bedroom. "I'll be in the shower."
Stiles grabbed his pillow off of the couch and the pajamas he packed from his backpack. He stared at the ratty bottoms of the sweatpants and wished for a moment that he had packed something nicer. He should have assumed that Peter was going to be a fucking creep and insist they shared a bed, but he had been foolish and filled with hope.
With Peter in the shower, Stiles took his chance to strip from his clothes and change into his pajamas. He folded his clothes and set them on one of the reading chairs in Peter's room.
Much like the rest of the apartment, Peter's bedroom was comfortable and homey but nicer than anywhere else Stiles had stayed in the past. He let himself walk around and inspect it while Peter was showering. It was probably considered rude, but Stiles couldn't find it within himself to care. Peter knew what he was getting into, he knew that Stiles was a nosy little fuck so he could deal with it.
"Unless you want to deal with even more nightmares, I'd suggest you don't open that." Peter's voice rang across the bedroom as Stiles ran his knuckles across a chest.
"What's in it? Hearts of young, scorned lovers?"
"My sex toys."
Stiles felt his face twist in disgust. "That's another joke, right?"
Peter raised a brow at him as Stiles turned around to face him and he noticed that the werewolf was shirtless. "If you want to take a look and confirm that I'm not fucking around with you, be my guest."
Words became hard for a moment as he stared for just a second too long at the still damp skin of Peter's chest. "Uh— yeah, no. I'll take your word for it." He absolutely did not want to know what type of toys Peter fucked around with in the bedroom. Well, on some level he was curious because his mind was horrible and if he was presented with any sort of closed box he wanted to open and inspect it. But Peter's dildos and fleshlights could stay locked in there and out of his brain.
Stiles forced himself to walk over to the bed before his hands opened the box without consulting his brain first. He knew he was bright red down to his chest and that Peter could probably smell his embarrassment but he didn't let himself think about it too much. The guy probably got off on Stiles' embarrassed reactions to the shit he did. But Peter didn't say anything, he just laid down in his bed and moved the blankets for Stiles.
Stiles had plenty of sleepovers in the past with Scott where they both ended up sleeping in the same bed. He made himself picture those situations and not sharing a bed with Malia as he laid down at the far edge of Peter's bed.
"I'm not going to steal your virtue," Peter snorted and pulled Stiles closer to the middle of the bed. "What the fuck do you kids think of me?"
"Do you really want me to answer that question?" Stiles asked, tensing as Peter enveloped Stiles body with his own. It was the same type of firm, comforting embrace that Malia would wrap around him whenever they ended up sleeping together.
Stop fucking thinking about your ex when you're in the same bed as her dad, Stiles mentally berated himself.
Stiles shivered as Peter ran his nose along his neck. The rough burn of his stubble against the thin skin was almost as uncomfortable as the knowledge that he was going to absolutely reek of Peter the next morning, especially if he kept scenting him like that.
"Stop thinking so much and just relax," Peter murmured into the crook of his neck. "You'll sleep better like this than you would at the edge of my bed."
"I'm really not sure about that."
Peter lightly bit the muscle where his neck joined his shoulders and growled, "Shut up, Stiles."
Despite himself, Stiles did shut up and surprisingly fast, he felt himself drifting off. The pressure of Peter's arms against his chest was warm and solid and he could feel the werewolf's even breaths start to slow down as he himself fell asleep. Stiles let himself fall asleep, relaxing in Peter's arms.
When Stiles dreamed that night, he dreamt of a dark wolf with a graying muzzle. Its fur was soft and warm in his hands as the wolf led him through a dark forest at night. If there was any danger, it didn't come close to them.
Stiles stroked the thick fur on the neck of the wolf in his dream and he felt safer than he had felt in a long time.