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It's been a long, hard day at the office and Peter can't wait to get home to Stiles and their son. Justin has been with them for four years, since he was five years old. He'd been brought to Peter and Stiles by Chris Argent, who'd known they were thinking about adopting. When he'd called and said a werewolf child had been left at the doorstep of a hunter and asked if they'd be willing to take him in, they hadn't even hesitated.
Peter doesn't know why Justin was left, doesn't know if the parents thought the hunter would kill him, or if they just didn't want to deal with him, or what. And Justin won't ever talk about them. Peter decides it doesn't matter what his birth parents' motivation had been; Justin is his and Stiles' in every way that counts.
Peter stops at their favorite teriyaki joint on the way home and picks up beef and chicken teriyaki and yakisboa. Justin's in a particularly picky food phase, but he usually will eat one of those. He balances the boxes and briefcase in one arm while he pushes open their front door. He's about to call out hello, when he hears Stiles and Justin murmuring from the living room.
"Papa's home," Justin says quietly. "Is he going to be mad at me?"
"No, kiddo," Stiles says.
"Will he be mad at you?"
"I hope not," Stiles says.
Peter frowns. Justin doesn't quite have a handle on the range of werewolf hearing yet, so he probably doesn't know that Peter can hear him. Peter makes sure to drop his keys in the bowl loudly enough for them to hear and step a little more heavily than usual as he walks down the hall to the living room.
Peter's glad he's spent years perfecting his poker face because his wolf snarls as he rounds the corner to see Stiles and Justin sitting on the couch with matching black eyes. Justin is curled into Stiles' side, looking miserable.
"What happened?" Peter asks, setting the takeout down on the coffee table.
Justin squirms and Stiles pokes him in the side. "Tell Papa what happened," he says.
"It was just a boy at school," Justin says.
Peter sits next to him, cupping his face in his hand. He pulls out the ache from the bruise, making Justin sigh. Thanks to the majority of werewolf healing not really kicking in until puberty, Justin's knuckles are just as scraped up and Stiles', his bruise just as vivid.
"What did the boy at school do?" Peter asks.
"He said a bad word," Justin says.
"Okay..." Peter says slowly. Justin is raised by him and Stiles, he hears plenty of bad words.
"He pushed me down and said a bad word about you and Dad," Justin says. "He called you guys fa - the f-word. He said I should be taken away because f-words shouldn't be allowed to get married or raise kids and I'll turn into an f-word too. Which is stupid because there's nothing wrong with marrying a man and I'll marry one if I want to! So I punched him."
"You're right, there's nothing wrong with marrying a man," Peter says.
"You're not mad at me?" Justin asks.
"No, pup. You were defending yourself, you did nothing wrong. I'm sorry you had to experience that," Peter says. He turns to Stiles. "And how exactly did you get your black eye?"
Stiles looks a bit sheepish and says, "Well, I was called down to the school after the recess monitor pulled him and Greg apart. We were all in the principal's office and his shitty dad was yelling about how Greg shouldn't be punished for sticking up for his beliefs and basically throwing around a bunch of homophobic crap. So I might have baited him..."
Peter feels a headache forming. "How?" he asks.
"I may have insinuated that the reason he hates gay people is he might have some unresolved sexuality issues," Stiles says.
"He said, 'Maybe you're mega, super gay'," Justin says. Stiles winces.
"Of course he did," Peter says.
"Then Mr. Henderson punched Dad," Justin says.
Peter sighs. "How badly did you hurt him?" he asks.
"Not too badly...he'll heal up fine," Stiles says.
"Stiles, you're setting a bad example," Peter chides. "If we get revenge, we don't get caught."
Justin giggles a bit, hiding his mouth behind his hand.
"Why don't I get plates and drinks and we can eat?" Stiles says. He stands, ruffles Justin's hair, and walks out of the living room.
Justin, still curled against Peter's side, looks up with wide blue eyes and asks, "You're really not mad?"
"I'm furious," Peter says. "But not at you, pup. Nothing that happened was your fault."
"My other parents used to be mad a lot," Justin says quietly and Peter tries to calm his racing heart. Peter has never heard Justin bring up his birth parents before. "And I was just so upset because I didn't want them to take me away from you and, and..."
"Shh, pup," Peter murmurs, gathering Justin to his chest, trying to cut off the impending panic attack. He glances up and sees Stiles standing in the doorway, eyes wide. "No one will ever take you away, okay? Dad and I would tear the world apart to keep you with us."
Stiles sets the plates down and sits on Justin's other side, rubbing his back.
"Papa's right," Stiles says. "We would destroy anyone that tried to take you from us. And just imagine how pissed grandpa would be."
Justin laughs wetly, pulling away enough to sit up straight. "Grandpa would be really mad," Justin says.
"He would," Peter says. "You are ours. You will always be ours. Okay?"
"Okay," Justin says. "Can I have some chicken?"
"Of course you can," Peter says. "I'll dish you up, you pick a movie."
Justin picks Home Alone, even though Christmas is still over a month away. Stiles says it's a year-round movie anyway. They eat on the couch, Justin between Stiles and Peter, and watch movies until 9:00 when they send Justin to bed. Once he's asleep and Peter and Stiles have cleaned up from dinner, the two of them lie on the couch, Stiles sprawled over Peter's chest.
"How did you keep the principal from calling the police?" Peter asks, carding his fingers through Stiles' hair.
"I may have commented on how the school handles hate speech and homophobic comments, and that I'd be interested in if my father, the sheriff, would consider Mr. Henderson attacking me after saying those things a hate crime. And that would just look very bad for the school," Stiles says.
"I do so love your deviousness," Peter says with a chuckle.
"I know," Stiles says, grinning. He nudges his head against Peter's hand, encouraging him to continue the petting. "What are you going to do?"
"Nothing that can be tied to us," Peter says.
"Well, duh," Stiles says. "I mean specifically."
"I'm not sure yet. There are so many options; financial ruin, making his wife think he's having an affair, getting him arrested. He owns his own business, yes? That could be fun to run into the ground."
Stiles sighs and says, "Don't go overboard. No getting anyone arrested."
"I'll do my best," Peter says. Stiles rolls his eyes and huffs, probably knowing that's as good as he's going to get.
Peter doesn't end up keeping that promise. In the process of digging up information on Mr. Carl Henderson, Peter unearths ties to an online "alt-right" (Nazi) hate group, plenty of domestic violence allegations that his wife is too scared to corroborate, a few pesky problems with tax evasion, and, interestingly, a gay porn habit. Maybe Stiles had been on to something.
Less than a week later, Carl Henderson is being arrested for felony tax evasion. Apparently his business has been doing some shady shit behind the scenes. When the police arrive and arrest him, surveillance footage of him backhanding his wife at a gas station is conveniently found outside the front door, almost as if it were placed there for them.
At breakfast the day after Carl Henderson is arrested, Stiles drops the newspaper in front of Peter at the kitchen table, almost hitting his pancakes. The paper picked up the story faster than Peter would have anticipated but then again, Beacon Hills is a small town.
"I think we need to have a discussion about what constitutes going overboard," Stiles says.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," Peter says.
"Right," Stiles says.
"Besides, I did the kid a favor. Hopefully with some therapy, he can become a productive member of society, not a useless leech like his father," Peter says, pushing the paper away. When he looks up, Stiles is grinning. "What?
"You totally paid for him to go to therapy, didn't you?" Stiles says.
"No," Peter says.
"Liar."
"An anonymous donor may have paid for counseling sessions for Mrs. Henderson and her son," Peter says. "But there's no way to know who that kind, wonderful soul would be."
"Uh huh," Stiles says. He leans down and kisses Peter. "I love you."
"I love you, too."