Work Text:
Stiles didn’t mind his part time job as a waiter while he was away at college, it helped pay the bills and it also helped his fund other, less official educational endeavours. He’d managed to collect a pretty decent amount of spell books and old grimoires to help him with his studies, and with his spark being nurtured instead of ignored he was well on his way to becoming a powerful mage.
Unfortunately, the long late hours on top of school and his magic studies left him exhausted most days, and today was no different. He’d just finished serving a family with two screaming children throwing food at each other, the mother rudely demanding he clean up their mess immediately. He hated nights like this, where he’d been working for a few hours and the customers just kept getting worse and worse.
He went back behind the counter to put their money into the register, glad they were gone, when he heard the bell on the door ring. He looked up and was shocked to see Peter and Chris walking in together, clearly here on a date. He wasn’t surprised about their relationship, they’d gotten together after all the shit in Beacon Hills had calmed down and they’d had a chance to spend time with each other. The whole pack knew, and for the most part were glad that Peter had someone to keep him more human. What Stiles was confused about though, was why they were here. The restaurant he worked at was a ten minute walk from his college campus, and the whole area was a good six hour drive from Beacon hills, and as far as he knew, they had no reason to be here.
His manager called out to him, pointing to the table Peter and Chris had just sat down at, and he sighed. Unless they were here for a supernatural emergency, he was too tired to care. He wanted nothing more than to go home and crawl into bed. He walked over to them, notepad in hand. Peter’s back was to him but Chris was facing him, and a surprise flickered over his face for a moment before a smile replaced it.
“Welcome to the Ram, what can I get for you tonight?” Stiles rounded the table to face them both and Peter grinned at the familiar face.
“Why hello Stiles, what a lovely surprise. What are you doing here?” The man was smirking, obviously trying to fuck with him, and Stiles just was not in the mood. He was dead on his feet and still had a paper to finish for class the next day, which meant staying up for at least another hour once he got home. He’d be in bed at three am at this rate with an eight am class the next day he was not looking forward to.
Stiles gave him a deadpan look. “I work here. What can I get for you tonight?”
Peter raised an eyebrow, but Chris spoke before he could wind Stiles up any more. “I’ll have the lamb, and Peter will have the steak. We’ll both have wine, thank you Stiles.”
Stiles nodded and took the order to the kitchen before getting swept away to another table.
~
By the time his shift had ended, Stiles was so tired that when he moved too fast he got dizzy. Seeing Peter and Chris usually would have had his curiosity piqued and he would have been pestering them with questions about why they were here, but he just couldn’t bring himself to care. They could’ve been on vacation for all he knew, although he doubted it.
As he dragged himself along the path he felt the tattoos beneath his shirt tingling. His protection runes had activated, indicating danger close by. He had a sinking feeling that something was following him. It wouldn’t be the first time. He felt the fear threatening to take over and forced it down, not allowing himself to panic when he needed to defend himself. Once he finally made it to the door of his apartment building, he prepared his magic, light burning in his hands and eyes shining white, turned around prepared to knock whatever was behind him into the next century, and came face to face with Peter and Chris. For a moment he was confused. They posed no threat to him, so why had his protective runes activated?
Chris stepped forward, hand outstretched as if to comfort him. “Stiles, it’s just us. We wanted to talk to you about something.” Peter was looking at him with a small frown on his face.
Stiles ignored them, squinting past them into the darkness at something moving slightly behind a parked car in front of his building. The shadowy shape suddenly became a blur of green, the creature launching itself at Stiles. Stiles pushed all of his remaining energy into his magic and watched as the grotesque blob with vicious teeth exploded mid-air, a pulse of light accompanying the spectacle.
As the last of his energy left him, black spots crossed his vision and he felt his legs collapse. The last thing he remembers seeing is Peter’s concerned face as he caught him halfway to the ground.
~
When Stiles wakes up, he’s in his own bed, which is rather confusing considering the last thing he remembers is watching the remains of the thing that attacked him last night flying in different directions. It’s only once he’s sitting up that he remembers Peter and Chris, and that’s because they’ve made themselves comfortable on the couch in his studio apartment. Peter has his feet up on the coffee table, arms behind his head, while Chris is sitting with a cup of coffee, flicking through the channels on his tv.
Stiles swings his legs onto the floor and tries to stand up, and finds that the simple task is a lot harder than it should be. “What the fuck,” He says, looking down at his legs, which aren’t really cooperating with him. His whole body feels heavy, and his eyes feel like someone has thrown sand in them.
Peter stands and walks over to him, stopping in front of him with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. Chris looks over at them from the couch. “You pushed yourself too far tonight. You’re feeling the consequences. You used up all of your magical energy so your body tried to use your normal energy, but there wasn’t enough. You need more sleep.”
Stiles made a face at him, and looked at the clock. It was three am. “I need to go to class tomorrow, I have a paper due – fuck, I have a paper due today!” He tries to launch himself out of bed towards his bag and his textbooks, but succeeds only in faceplanting on the floor. “Fuck.” He somehow doubts he’s going to be going to class in a few hours if he can’t even stand. He has no clue what he’s going to tell his professor.
He looks up to find Peter clearly holding back laughter. “Shut up, I’m so screwed.” He groans, trying to pull himself off the floor, before Peter takes pity on him and slides him arms under Stiles’ and lifts him up. He hauls him over to the couch and dumps him on the centre cushion next to Chris, who eyes him curiously. “How did you know that thing was there last night?” Stiles doesn’t answer the question right away, watches Peter walk over to the kitchen. He considers what to tell him.
“Tattoos,” he says finally, breaking the silence. Chris raises an eyebrow at him as Peter returns with a sandwich, handing it to Stiles and sitting on the other side of him. “Care to elaborate?” Peter adds.
Stiles rolls his eyes and wriggles around until he can lift his shirt up to reveal several tattoos on his ribcage, runes and sigils inked on his skin. His new position is also very comfortable, lodged between the two other men.
Peter’s eyes are glued to his torso, taking in the symbols, and Chris is much the same. The moment is broken when he pulls his shirt down, feeling uncomfortable with all the staring. He grabs the remote from Chris’ hand and flicks through the channels. “What’s on?”
Chris grabs it back and changes it to an old movie. Peter grabs it from him and switches it to Gilmore Girls. Stiles snorts. He has no idea what’s going on, but he didn’t realize just how much he missed everyone back home until now. He’s always been attracted to both men, but never imagined anything would come of it. He’s not going to complain if they want to cuddle with him though. He still doesn’t know why they’re here, but he decides it can wait until morning. Peter and Chris bicker above him, but he doesn’t pay attention, drifting to sleep cuddled comfortably close to them both.