Chapter Text
Peter remembered all the times, before he himself had made that leap of faith and said 'the three words', that Stiles almost blurted it out in the middle of something mundane and domestic as clumsy as his two left feet. When time seemed to freeze, he hastily swallowed down that third word and instead tacked on “when we do this”. He resumed doing whatever it was that he was doing in that moment and pretended his heart wasn’t about to burst out of his chest for the rest of the night. But the point was that Peter remembered every single time.
Of course, him being himself, he had to wait to say it. For far too long if you asked him now, but, let’s be honest, if someone were to actually ask him, he wouldn’t deign to answer that question. Either way, just as he waited to tell Stiles that he loved him, he had to wait to tell him that he wanted to spend his life with him for as long as he would have him. Indeed, he waited until something terrible had happened and he simply couldn’t not tell him anymore.
Being a werewolf, Peter pretty much was as dangerous a predator as you could possibly be in a human form, or so he liked to think. Usually, though, he tended to at least attempt to hide that little fact. But not this time, oh no. They were already late as it was and if narrowed eyes and barely suppressed growling got them through the huge crowd of crazy shoppers just a little bit faster to get to their destination before the store closed, then so be it.
And to think that they were only going to all of that trouble for a simple birthday present. Because, of course, Stiles wanted it to be the perfect one. Admittedly, it was the Sheriff’s birthday and his partner really had put quite a bit of effort into figuring out just what it could be his father might want. He had kept prodding and prodding in that annoyingly charming way of his until finally the man gave in, leaving them with only two days to go.
That didn’t mean Peter didn’t want to knock some sense into the human’s head. Especially since he, having been on the receiving end of despairing stares from the Sheriff for the whole time of their last visit, knew exactly what would be the perfect gift. He saw it in fond looks and ruffled hair and tight hugs. Stiles, precious though he was to the both of them, was, unfortunately, also quite oblivious at times. He failed to realize that his presence alone could make people happy.
So deeply lost in his thoughts as he was, Peter would later congratulate himself on noticing the bus at all in the chaos of the city, but, the moment his senses alerted him to something going wrong, he could only hope it wasn’t too late. Stiles was already halfway across the street, practically dragging him by their entwined hands, when he abruptly dug his heels into the ground, forcibly yanked the human back towards him and used the momentum to turn them around to get his partner as far away from the street as he could in that one second he had, before he heard the bus rushing past them just inches away, felt the wind ruffle his hair, almost managing to pull him along.
For a heartbeat there, none of them dared to move or even breathe. Peter was able to fight hunters and other werewolves and everything else the supernatural world threw at them. He could not, however, keep the younger man safe from the modern world or all the other humans on their goddamn planet and he hated it. The shiver he felt going through Stiles’ body didn’t help matters, either, as did the human’s erratic heartbeat or the harsh exhale and the words whispered in a voice that was far too steady to be anything but pretense. “The light was green. I swear, it was.”
Peter just nodded, too shaken to do much but run his fingers over his partner’s back again and again and reassure himself that he was whole and healthy and that everything was as alright as it could be expected. He wasn’t even aware he was cursing that mad driver aloud or that a group of people were starting to give them a wide berth, but he couldn’t have cared less, anyway.
At some point, Stiles was drawing away slightly, although he nevertheless kept his hands fisted in his jacket, and looked up at him. Only then it got through to Peter that the human was talking to him, repeatedly telling him that he was fine, that they were okay. “I need you to calm down now, yes? Can you do that for me, please? You know you cannot lose control here, Peter.”
“I am not losing control. In fact, I have impeccable control.” He closed his eyes in irritation and easily ignored the times that he had indeed lost control these last months, probably more often than in the whole rest of his life since his first transformation on a full moon. Peter didn’t count the time after the coma and never would, seeing how he hadn’t even been quite himself then. Either way, if anyone had thought getting himself a pack once more would make him any less lethal, they had been woefully wrong.
At least he hadn’t murdered anyone in cold blood in a long time, but there were always those who believed one death equalled another death and to him, family was the one thing that would always be worth to kill for. And right there, with that thought, came another startlingly clear realization. It wasn’t so much hate for the lunatic who had almost driven them over that was forcing the shift, no, that would be too easy. He was actually just terrified of living without his partner.
It was Stiles himself who pulled him back to reality, having seemingly relaxed enough to sound almost amused. “Oh, is that so? Well, besides the fact that I can still see your fangs and I’m almost certain your eyes won’t have changed back yet, either, I’m not convinced that it’s just your fingernails poking me right now, you know.”
Peter instantly loosened his grip. He concentrated on the claws first, lest he hurt his human, but it was difficult because he had begun trembling and his vision turned blurry. All the while his mind was filled with a growing panic and so, once he had finally recovered, he cleared his throat and took a step backwards, grasping instead his partner’s hands as something to hold onto, to keep his own from shaking too badly.
“Stiles, do you remember what I told you when I signed the contract for the house?” He asked, since that was as good a start as any and maybe just rushing in wasn’t such a great idea, after all. But he couldn’t help it now, couldn’t stop. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to because for all he knew he’d never get a chance like this again, be it for his own cowardice or fate’s twisted ways.
Stiles hesitated, a frown on his face. “Yes. Of course, I do.” He was tense, the faintest suspicion obvious through his pulse.
“Then will you marry me?”
Stiles needed a moment to understand what exactly Peter had been saying. Oh, he had heard just fine, because rough voice or not, he was attuned to the sound, the caressing whispers and hisses as sharp as a knife. But he couldn’t quite comprehend it, couldn’t wrap his head around the foreign concept or associate it with the man in front of him.
“No.” The word rushed out of him and he wanted to hit himself for it, but he kept thinking that it was for the best this way.
“Wha-? No?“ The werewolf pulled away from him and he couldn’t quite place the look he was getting, the emotions playing on his face. Devastation, maybe even betrayal, most certainly pain, but he refused to be persuaded by the fact that he had hurt him when it’d come to that anyway. “Stiles. I love you.”
Peter was taking another step backwards, but this time Stiles interfered, seeing how they were still so close to the street. “I know. I love you, too. That’s why I can’t let you do this.”
“What are you talking about?” There was confusion laced through the other’s words now and while that was infinitely better than before, Stiles still hated to have to explain this, to say out loud why this wouldn’t work, either way.
“You’re probably full of adrenaline right now, okay? Don’t dare try to deny it. The shift was enough proof for that, Peter. We’re both shaken and it’s really not the wisest thing to do to decide you want to marry me when we’re already this emotional, this irrational.” He tried to let some compassion show through his words, but he couldn’t help the cold, detached feeling accompanying such deductions that was starting to unfurl in his belly.
“What if I told you I already made that decision for myself? What if I told you I have a ring stashed away back at the house? What if I told you that I was one of these guys who bought such a thing just to then hide it in his sock drawer for weeks because he was too nervous and wanted to wait for the right moment?” The older one started to ramble in a way normally reserved for Stiles himself, taking his hands to place them on his chest, his heartbeat perceptible to the human even through his shirt, so rapid was it. “And what if I’m afraid that I’ll miss such an opportunity and don’t want to lose another chance at being happy with you till death do us part?”
Stiles wasn’t sure what he was supposed to think. He would have considered it to be some elaborate strategy for his partner was still terrifyingly good at such a thing, but his heart couldn’t be lying to him, not when Peter was that agitated. “That was what all the secrecy has been about?”
“You noticed.” A horrified lock crossed the other man’s face and if the situation were any other, he might have found it laughable.
As it was, a warm, fuzzy feeling started to fight the numbness that had seized hold of him at realizing how wrong he had been about everything. “Not just me. You’re not as sneaky or subtle as you apparently think you are. I mean, the most obvious sign was that you changed your whole bloody routine and wouldn’t stay in bed with me in the mornings any longer and would come to sleep only much later at night. I can only presume now that you wanted to dress quickly and not let me have a peek at your drawer, but there were other things, too. And I’m sorry, because I may have talked to Lydia about it, so, in case I cannot stop her from cornering you, you better prepare yourself.”
“What were you thinking?” The werewolf stared at him shrewdly, but his hands had found its way back to Stiles’ sides, running up and down comfortingly.
He rested his forehead against his partner’s shoulder, leaning into him. This was as much weakness as he would allow himself to show for now. “Well, what if I told you that I was one of these guys who can’t help but to keep doubting they deserve the person they’re with, that they’re worthy enough.”
“Then I’d answer that it’s even more of a reason to put that ring around your finger because you deserve everything and so much more than that. You are worth it to me. Don’t ever doubt my love, Stiles.”
“Then I’d say hell yes.”