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"You made me bacon, real pig bacon."
Glancing over his shoulder, he grins at the look of rapture on John's face, and flips a couple pieces of bacon from the pan to a paper towel to a plate. "Fried eggs as well."
John groans and takes the plate to the table. He's wearing his uniform, the collar open, revealing a purpling hickey from the night before. The pleasure at the sight of his love mark showing so clearly makes him tingle as he joins John with own plate. The older man pours them both coffee from the press pot Peter insisted was a necessity if he was going to spend nights at the Stilinski residence.
Even Stiles, who hates pretty much everything else about the situation, croons over the coffee now.
But, he's at Scott's, so they have the hour to themselves before John has to go to work, just as they had all night in his bed...and the shower...and, first, the couch. The wolves who hang around this house are going to smell that--he should probably find some Febreeze.
"This is...too good," John groans, chewing crispy bacon, applewood smoked and straight from a local farm. "I'm keeping you."
Knowing he's teasing--because they agreed on that months ago--Peter grins and sips his coffee. "Shall we make it official?" He keeps it light, but he...wants.
John goes serious, drinks some coffee, then sets down the mug and his fork. "I...Okay, I hadn't given that any thought, but...I think thinking about it may be a good idea."
Sometimes his lover sounds too much like his son, but Peter's always been able to translate both, and he smiles in relief and nods and changes the subject. "Do you want me to bring supper to the station?"
"Meatball subs?"
"Sure."
"Yeah. I'll let you know if I'm out on a call."
"I'm happy to wait for you." Happy to do anything with John Stilinski, and, if someone had told Peter that a few months before, he would have laughed in their face.
John smiles back and resumes eating.
Yeah, Peter's pretty sure he'll be happy doing this every day for the rest of his life.
End