Archive of Our Own ^beta

Placing the last book in its place, Stiles takes a final look around. All the shelves are filled, there is a nice reading corner in place, and his coffee is at the desk. It’s early enough that he still has an hour before he has to open the place up for customers. He will be needing that hour, because while everything is in order, he knows his anxiety will have him adjust it again and again.

But for now he is admiring all his work.

It was a good choice to buy the book store. He hadn’t known what to do, once he were finished with his studies, so the idea was to work for himself for a few years. Get a sense of responsibility, while enjoying the life of no more homework and exams. And it had been a good excuse to come back to Beacon Hills, and see his dad.

He hadn’t moved back in, but rather found a small apartment in pretty good condition, not that far from his new store.

Stiles takes a sip of coffee. It’s not bad. Most of his friends are out of town doing their own thing, but Peter and Derek are still left. He spoke to Derek the day after he got the apartment. Derek seemed happy enough to have a bit of his pack coming back. Stiles hasn’t told Peter yet.

He looks at his watch, places the coffee down, and then goes to move a few books. The color scheme is annoying to his eyes. Once it’s fixed, he goes back to nurse his coffee.

His dad promised to visit, if he could find the time. Miss Lemon, his new neighbor, too. Just come in to say “hi”, though Stiles suspects it will be a bit more than that. While his dad was at first worried that Stiles choose to buy a store, instead of trying to find a job with his new degree, he soon warmed up to the idea. Getting a few years experience never hurt anybody. Miss Lemon will probably just try to fatten him up with sweets and gossip, and Stiles is not complaining.

And secretly, he’s a bit afraid that there will be no customers this first day, so it calms him down a bit, to know that someone will come, even if they are not there to buy anything.

The reading corner would probably look nicer if he moved the table a bit to the side. And then the right chair a bit more in front. And if he just pushes the carpet a bit back. And maybe-

To be honest Stiles doesn’t really know what he’s doing. Nothing hinges on this little project being a success. No one will die if he doesn’t get a full house on his first day. No monsters will come attack him at night for not being perfect from the start.

And still, he really wants all of this to go well. For him to have this space, in his hometown where he is in control. Where he decide what to do and when. Where he is his own boss. Stiles has faced and survived monsters and demons. But it’s this project, this store, this responsibility that he feels like will be the deciding factor for the rest of his life.

The potted plant shouldn’t be right at the door, someone could walk right into it. Instead if he just moves it to his desk...

xxxxxxx

“Seems to be doing well, son. Didn’t have to worry,” John says after Stiles just finished up with a customer.

His dad is still in uniform, so he must have come straight from work. Stiles smiles and nods at him. it hasn’t been bad. A very slow start in the morning, but after lunch a flowing stream had come through. Not really enough to be called busy, but better than his worst expectations.

“How’ya doing Daddio?” Stiles ask with a smile and goes over for a hug. immediately he is enveloped in a warm embrace. They haven’t been seeing each other much, with Stiles being busy with getting the store up and running, and Johns unstable schedule.

“Just fine, been a slow morning. People rarely get up early to make trouble. Prefer to sleep in usually.” John says, side eyeing Stiles.

Stiles lets out an amused huff and weakly pushes his dad backwards in retaliation. “Shut up, I been up since six getting the store ready. A true model citizen. Pay my taxes on time and all that.”

His dad grabs him by the shoulder while he chuckles. The touch is welcomed and nice. Keeps him grounded.

“When will you be closing up? I’m making dinner tonight, and I think we should celebrate your first day.” John says.

“Yeah, that would be nice. I will be closing up at seven, and then it will take an hour to get cleaned up. Shouldn't be a problem if you don’t mind eating a bit late.” Stiles answers.

His dad is already shaking his head, before Stiles is done talking. “It won’t be a problem. We should spend tonight together. We can drink a few beers and you can stay over. I can drive you to work tomorrow.”

“That’s a deal!” Stiles says, and grabs the arm that is still holding his shoulder. They take a moment to just look at each other, before a new customer enters the store, and Stiles has to go and help them. John is quick to say his goodbyes and leave. He still got his work to get back to.

The rest of the day goes slow. There is a customer here and there, but the store is new, so not many people know of it yet. Stiles just needs to keep going until he gets regulars. With miss Lemons promise of advertising the shop to all her knitting-buddies, it might be sooner rather than later.

Stiles is tidying up and thinking about which books to order in next. He got a bit of different stuff for different tastes, but this whole book store project is also an good excuse to gather materials for himself. Once the store is doing better, he’s going to ask Peter for recomediations. Not anything supernatural, but peter seems like a guy with a taste for research, just for the sake of having information.

Getting all books back to their rightful place and straightening the reading corner, he starts to count up the register. The books vary in prices, and he hasn’t installed a digital paying system yet, so for now everything is manual work.

Stiles is in the middle of counting the coins, a tiring and slow job, when he feels a light breeze.

He immediately looks up, but the doors and windows are all closed. Thinking he might have imagined it, he goes back to counting. That is when he sees it. A sprout. A little green seedling sticking up from his desk, right beside his empty coffee mug.

Stiles tries to remember if it has been there from the beginning, but he’s sure there were nothing, when he arranged his desk.

He doesn’t get much time to think about it, when he hears the chime of the bell at the door. He looks up to see who’s coming in, an “We’re closed” already on the tip of his tongue, but stops.

There stands a tree in the middle of his shop.

Stiles rub his eyes, but it’s still there, so hallucinations caused by lack of sleep is out of the question. It looks so inconspicuous like it’s always been there. Like he’s the stupid one for not noticing it earlier.

Slowly he steps out and around his desk, so he can get closer. it looks like a pinetree and It’s not big. It reaches up to the low ceiling and seems kind of thin. But the pines are a dark green and looks thick. Like they could easily pierce his skin. And once he’s noticed it, it smells strongly, the heavy odor coming from all around him. Like he’s in a forest surrounded by trees, instead of it coming from the single one in his shop.

He has a vague crazy thought in the back of his mind, that he could keep it. Decorate it for the holidays or something. Wouldn’t make for a bad christmas tree. There is another thought, sounding more like his voice of reason, telling him to immediately call Peter or Derek, because trees suddenly growing in the middle of a building is not normal. And Stiles left the not normal stuff behind him, years ago.

But all of that is in the background while he keep going closer. Again he feels the breeze that shouldn’t be there, and sees the trees branches move in the wind. Somehow all this feels familiar. Like a lost childhood memory of realising something bigger than oneself. He reaches out to touch it.

He reaches between the branches and pine needles and lightly touches the bark. It’s hard and gruff under his hand. He moves it down, and is pricked. Instinctively he yanks his hand back. He’s bleeding.

Something shifts in the air, and the breeze turns into a gust of wind that tears at him. He looks up and it is like the ceiling has disappeared, and with it no longer in the way, the tree has kept on growing. It keeps going up and up, and Stiles can no longer see the top. But he can see the stars between the now giant branches.

He steps back, away from it all. The still growing tree that is tearing up his floor. The smells that are now as heavy as a blanket, and makes him claustrophobic. He trips over his feet, but briefly catches himself, by grabbing his desk. He sees the sapling, still sticking out, before the fall makes him land on the floor. And suddenly it’s like something in him breaks.

A burning heat fills his chest. A heat made of the softness of a warm summer wind and the fiery danger of a flame. It’s unnatural and natural. Foreign and familiar. And it is completely out of his control.

He’s burning and the books are flying out around him. They’re circling the ever growing pine tree, and bumping into the walls and furniture. They’re opening and closing, and flips between the pages.

He’s burning, and the tree is growing, and the books are flying and everything is wrong. Stiles wants to scream, but opens his mouth to silence. There are no sounds, and still everything is too loud. He grabs his heart, feeling like it’s going to beat out of his chest, and just leave a gaping hole, where it used to be.

Stiles tries to get up, but his legs are not holding him up. He manages to halfway stand up, by leaning on his desk, and everything around him is in an uncontrollable chaos. He once again opens his mouth to speak, but whereas the words left him before, one word is shouted, as the edges of his consciousness is turning dark.

“STOP!”

xxxxxxx

Peter just arrived home, closing the door behind him and placing his keys at the kitchen counter. He’s been out most of the day patrolling the preserve, but did have lunch with Derek. They don’t speak much, but there isn’t much they can talk about. “How are you” and “Did you find anything while patrolling” doesn’t lead to lasting conversations, especially when the answer to the latter is “nothing”. But in the quiet of his mind, Peter is glad that Derek wants to offer these moments together. Their relationship isn’t the same, but it doesn’t have to be bad.

And this time Derek did have something interesting to tell. Apparently the Stilinski boy moved back into town. And opened a bookstore on top of that. Peter is already looking forward to visiting. Seeing how it is going. Maybe rile him up a little.

Out of all the pack members moving out, Stiles is what Peter would consider the biggest loss. The boy kept himself out of the unnatural business the last years, before he went to university, but he were still a great ally whenever it went downhill. Peter wonders whether this means that Stiles is back to face the supernatural, or if it is at all permanent.

Derek seems to be in the negative of the former, but more positive towards the latter. Peter will not reach a conclusion before he has spoken to the boy himself. For now he will just enjoy his afternoon.

He goes to the fridge and absentmindedly scratches his chest, while he looks for his leftovers. Once it’s in the oven, it’s just a waiting game, so he goes into the living room to power up his laptop.

After the fire, almost all of their books about the supernatural were lost. Peter has slowly been reviving the collection, but many of the books were rare, and people aren’t willing to give up their own cheaply. Peter has found a seller, but they’re making the transaktion much more complicated than it need to be. Peter suspects foul play. They might just be after his money, by giving him empty promises, but he can’t afford to let it go if it’s real. He just has to thread carefully, and not give them anything until he has the book in his hand. Then he can see where it goes from there.

He answers a few emails, and then goes up to fill a plate with the now-warm food. He then goes back and turns on the TV. Since he woke up after his coma, there hasn’t been much entertainment that he’s enjoyed, but it fills out the silence. It’s a strange transection. To go from being accustomed to noise and life, to the point of driving him crazy, and then it being all gone. He wonders briefly if Derek feels the same. Then goes back to focus on his dinner. No need to fall back on a broken past. There is nothing left for him there.

Once finished, Peter washes everything up in the sink. He has a new book he’s going to read and then he will go to bed. And he will wake up tomorrow and do the same. And the day after that. And the day after.

His younger self would rather die than live such a life, but his younger self hadn’t experienced death, so he clearly didn’t know what he was talking about. Peters life might not be exciting at the moment, but Beacon Hills has a habit of luring dangers and trouble into town. It won’t be long before there is something else to grab his attention, and hopefully keep him entertained for a time. For now he will take every day as it is.

He scratches at his itch, while he finds the book and then find a comfortable position on the couch.

An hour later he has to take of his shirt. The itch isn’t going away, and the material of his V-neck is more grating than relieving. He looks down at himself, but there is nothing there. There isn’t even any marks of his scratching, his werewolf healing has taken care of that. But it still itches, and it doesn’t seem like it’s going away.

Peter is a suspicious man by nature, so he gets to think that the trouble has found him sooner, rather than later, when the itch explodes into a full on heart attack.

Peter immediately doubles over, and in the movement he loses his balance and falls of the couch. He lands on his side and tightens around himself, with both hands ripping at his chest.

He gasps for air while he trashes around on the floor, no pause in the agony. Peter has experienced many different types of pain in life, the worst being tied between him burning up alive and losing his whole family, and while this pain doesn’t come close to that, it is still terrible to experience.

He looks around himself, trying to find the source of his torment, but even with his sight being limited by the close proximity of the furniture, he knows no one is there.

He manages to get his feet under himself, and slowly gets up, but as he’s standing between the couch and coffee table, with his front facing the door, he is hit with a sudden need to be elsewhere. He even takes a step forward, before he latches on to the couch with his hand.

Peter doesn’t care what is happening to him, if someone is trying to summon him in such a way, there is no way in hell he’s coming. He can feel the leather of the couch rip under his claws, but he manages to stay where he is. In his head, he slowly start to count up the time, until he feel the pain slowly ebb away to an burning ache. It’s 10 minutes later before he dares to let go of his couch. The need to be somewhere else is still there, but it’s bearable.

He doesn’t trust that if he goes out the door to find Derek or Deaton for help, he won’t end up elsewhere. His phone is still in his jacket pocket, which is hanging by the front door, and he’s not risking getting close to it for now. Instead he moves back, towards his bedroom. The ache briefly flares up, as he moves away, but becomes calm, once he closes the bedroom door.

He looks at himself in his mirror, but sees no signs that show how he’s feeling or what is causing it. His body looks normal, and unless someone would be able to smell the pain drifting of him, there would be no way to know how he currently is. Peter doesn’t like it. An invisible wound or curse are usually worse than the visible.

With no other choice at the moment, Peter goes to bed in the hope that it will be over by the morning. Or at least that he can reach his phone, and call Deaton without trouble.

xxxxxxx

The drive to Deaton’s isn’t long. It’s quiet, since it’s early in the morning, so no waiting in line or anything like it.

When Peter woke up this morning, everything were fine. No pain, no itch and no urge to go to some unknown place. So he had grabbed his coat and his keys and went straight to the man who might know what is happening. Of course, only if Deaton feels like giving more than puzzles and strangely worded riddles. Doesn’t matter. Peter isn’t afraid to use a little rough force to get the man talking.

When he reaches his destination, the clinic is still closed. He doesn’t care, he know Deaton is there. He always is.

The door isn’t even locked when he goes ind. He can hear Deatons steps and a bit of rustling in the other room, so he goes there. Deaton is getting ready for the day, setting up equipment and clearing his desk and the bunk.

“And what are you here for?” Deaton asks, not giving of any sign of surprise when he sees Peter.

He gets straight to the point. “I had an experience last night, and I was wondering if you might have a suggestion as to what could have cause it,” Peter answers. He doesn’t trust Deaton in any way, but the information the man holds is certainly useful.

Peter describes what happened, keeping a close eye on Deaton, for any sign of recognition from the man. As usual he gets none, but Deaton does look like he’s thinking Peters words through.

“I might have an idea to what it could be, but would have to look it up. What about you come back tomorrow or if it happens again, and I will have something for you,” Deaton says.

Peter glares a Deaton, but decides to stay quiet. So far it’s an one-time incident. Even werewolves sometimes have weird unexplainable experiences with their bodies. Peter can wait. For now.

He doesn’t bother with an answer when he leaves. The visit to Deatons took no time, and still managed to feel like a waste of life, but Peter will find something to do for the rest of the day. The thought hits him, that he might as well pay a visit to his returned packmate. He doesn’t know when Stiles’ store opens, but hopefully he will still find the boy there. It should at least be early enough that there are no other customers to make a distraction. No, he should have Stiles all for himself if he goes there now.

Peter sends a quick text to Derek asking for the address, and there doesn’t go long before a chime alerts him that he’s gotten an answer. No surprise there, Derek has always been an early bird. Peter finds the place and then gets driving.

Since it’s in town, and is located in a smaller street it takes longer to get to Stiles. Peter easily finds a spot to park his car, and then goes over to look through the glass window in the door.

He can hear the well known heartbeat hammering away, and he can see a hunched figure sticking out from one of the shelves. He knocks with his fingers, loud enough that he gets the attention of the other man.

When Stiles opens the door and gives Peter a smile, it takes him a second to recognize him. It has been years since they last saw each other. Peter had mainly known what were going on with Stiles through other people such as Derek, so whenever Stiles got into town to visit his dad, they had never talked about seeing each other. The main reason Peter has even come to see Stiles now is because it’s a possible permanent return of a packmate.

Though that doesn’t seem to matter considering the huge black eye Stiles is sporting. He looks like he’s been in a fight and that he lost. His lip is also split a little and he has a bruise besides his nose. The boys face looks terrible. Doesn’t mean Peter can’t appreciate the rest of him.

Stiles has grown. He is more comfortable in his body both physically and, as far as Peter can see, mentally. He is even taller than Peter by a few centimeters. He is no longer the boy Peter met years ago. He is still young, but deserving of the title of man.

“What happened to you?” Peter asks, memorizing this new Stiles into his mind. He is curious about what else has changed during their time apart. “Had a bad date?” he adds, giving Stiles on of his prizewinning smirks.

“You should have seen the state my date were in” Stiles answers without pause. “But no, a book fell into my face.” He hesitates for a second before he asks: “What are you doing here?” not unkindly said. He moves out of the way while he speaks, and moves out his arm to welcome Peter ind.

“Here to see what mess you have made this time, beside the one on your face,” Peter says, the smirk still on his face, and steps past Stiles. He doesn’t realise how literal his words are until he sees the books covering the floor.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Stiles tries to joke, but his words are more stiff than usual.

Peter looks back at the other man, and looks him in the eyes. It doesn’t take a genius to know something is wrong. Stiles is restless, more than usual, shuffling in place. He’s clearly avoiding Peters eyes like that isn’t a sign he’s hiding something.

Peter takes a deep inhale and is surprised by the smell of anxiety, panic and pain. Not because it’s coming from the other man, but rather the room around him.

Peter once more looks around at the mess, and then back at Stiles, but the man is saying nothing. Peter hates it when others keep secrets, prefer to have all the information clear so he knows what he’s dealing with, but if Stiles isn’t telling him what is going on now, Peter won’t be getting anything out of him. He’s a cops son, and that means that it’s not easy to trick information out of him without his knowing.

The silence stretches on, and to no one's surprise it doesn’t take long before Stiles breaks it.

“Well, if you absolutely have to know. There was a little accident yesterday. Books might have gone flying. No one were hurt during the making of the shop, except my sorting system, but honestly considering how long it took for me to get all the books right, I would have prefered a casualty. That would have been easier to clean.” While Stiles ramples on, he goes back to clearing the books off the floor and placing them back on the shelves.

“I were simply looking,” Peter points out and takes a tour around the shop. It’s a small place, but Stiles has managed to exploit the space. Not very original in it’s interior design, but Peter admits the reading corner looks nice. Or at least would, when it’s not covered in books.

“Well if you’re just here to look, I would prefer you out of my way. Some people got work to do”, Stiles says.

“True. If only those people were here,” Peter smiles at the glare Stiles sends his way. “I thought the shop were supposed to open yesterday?” he then asks.

“How would you even know that? Doesn’t matter. It did. But as you can see of the current state of affairs, It didn’t last for long and I don’t think my customers would enjoy having to dig up their purchase from piles of books. And that is only counting those who already know what they want.” Stiles answers.

A little bell rings in the back of Peters mind. “Did this ‘accident’ happen during the night?”

“No, rather in the evening. Why do you ask?” Stiles has stopped his reshelving and is now looking curiously at Peter.

“Would you say it happened sometime after seven O’clock? Maybe eight?” Peter says while looking closely at Stiles. His reaction will tell Peter everything he needs to know.

He is not disappointed.

“Why? How did you know?” Stiles is immediately in Peters space, looking him right in the eyes. “Did something happen?”

Stiles looks a bit desperate, like what Peter know might solve all his Problems. The thing is though, is that Peter is not a nice man, and he’s not going to just give up information freely. “No. Nothing. Just curious about your accident. Nothing to worry about,” he says, making his voice sweet with innocence.

Stiles is not buying it for a second, the smart man that he is, and he understands the situation. They both know something the other don’t. And Peter isn’t telling anything until Stiles admits what has happened.

It is in Stiles nature to be curious. He always wants to know, always tries to find out and hates being left in the dark. Peter is sure it won’t take long before he gives up, and offer up his side of the story.

Stiles does look like he’s ready to give in, when he surprises Peter once again. The smell of distress start to come of him in small waves and he turns back to his books and reshelving.

“If there is nothing else, and you’re not gonna help, then please be kind and leave. I got work to do.” He says, more cold than Peter has ever seen him.

Peter looks at Stiles for a second, but he doesn’t say anything more. In the end Peter leaves without saying a word.

xxxxxxx

A few weeks went by before something happened again. Deaton comes up with jack shit, proving how useless the man is once again. Stiles doesn’t get any more cooperative either. Peter does manage to corner the him a few times, but Stiles always ends up ruining the conversation, either by changing the subject or just straight up leaving.

It is frustrating and maddening, because if this whole thing ends up being a one time thing, then Peter will never get an answer. Through this, Peter also finds out more ways that Stiles has changed, and he’s not sure he like them all.

Peter does see Stiles as a man now, him clearly having gotten more mature. It mostly show in how he takes care of his bookstore, the way he’s working on it from a business point of view. He has personalized it, and do fill it up with works he is interested in himself, but also make sure to take his customers into consideration.

This is some of the things Peter like, something that show the character growth Stiles has been through.

But sadly, Stiles has also adopted one of the worst qualities that can be found in man, if Peters opinion is taken into consideration. And that is denial.

Peter has no doubt that Stiles is somehow connected to his episode, and clearly something happened to Stiles as well. But the man is denying everything, pushing Peter away time and time again.

Peter consider himself a patient man, and he knows when to let a beat horse lie. Peter won’t be getting anything from Stiles until he can prove something, and he can’t do that before something, anything, happens again.

And then it does. Peter is minding his own business, getting some shopping done when he is hit with that hellish pain again. Just like before, there is nothing he can do the first few seconds, but the moment he is hit with a need to be elsewhere, he moves.

Before he didn’t want to be taken to some place against his will, but now he will see if it gives him the answers he’s looking for.

It takes him a long time finding the place he is being let to. The pain is mostly gone, resulting in him being more clear about where he is headed. He ends up at Beacon Hills official library. And it doesn’t take long before he finds out something happened there.

People are running around, shouting and speaking to each other, though there don’t seem to be any fear, only panic. It’s not hard to overhear what is going on, though werewolf hearing is definitely helping.

Apparently a pipe broke and flooded one of the lower book sections, and they’re still working to get it under control, before it ruins any more of the books. Peter doesn’t care much for that, since he catches a familiar scent and follows that instead.

And sure enough, he finds Stiles, the boy drenched from head to toe, with one of the librarians helping him dry off and speaking softly to him. Wherein everyone else smells like panic because of the books, Stiles oozes of anxiety. He is shaking all over his body, and his breathing is labored, like he’s on his way into a panic attack. The librarian is clearly attempting to calm him down, and Peter will give her credit that it does seem to be working, since the other man is still standing.

Peter takes a minute to discern the situation. While Peter was sure of Stiles involvement earlier, this proves there is a connection. There is nothing else that explains why he’s being led to Stiles, and Peter doesn’t believe in coincidence.

There is also a connection between Stiles and whatever accident has happened here. Stiles current state is a clear indication that he at least was in the middle of it. Now, where that comes into play, Peter doesn’t know yet, but it’s still more information than he had before.

Stiles suddenly looks at Peter, finally having noticed the man. Peter takes that as his cue to go over to him.

“Darling, you look like a drowned mouse. I don’t think libraries are meant for taking baths,” he drawls. No reason to give up this chance to make fun Stiles when he can.

Stiles just sighs, though a bit shakily, while the librarian looks back and forth at them, clearly trying to discern their relationship. Stiles gently pats her on the back, though he realises his mistake when he leaves a damp handprint on her shirt.

“Don’t worry, he’s a friend. He’s just being an A-hole.” Stiles hesitates for a moment. “You can go back, I’m fine now.”

She looks at Stiles, still wanting to help, but does listen to him and goes with a soft “Be careful.”

Once she’s gone, Peter stops smiling. He takes his time looking over Stiles, assessing every twitch and tremble. Stiles is avoiding his eyes, looking everywhere but at him, unable to stand still. His body is tensed, signaling that he’s ready to get defensive the moment Peter opens his mouth.

Normally Peter would take this as a challenge, for him to verbally break Stiles’ shield until he reveals what he wants to know. But it’s mixed with the still lingering smell of fear and anxiety. Peter takes pity on him.

“Tragic something like this happened, in a library no less. Though I do suppose accidents don’t care for where they happen.”

Finally Stiles looks at Peter, first in surprise of him not interrogating him. Then he looks at Peter suspiciously, like he’s waiting for the trap to give under him.

Peter decides that he doesn’t feel like dealing with this, and instead steps forward to grab the towel the librarian were using earlier, and starts to tousle Stiles’ hair.

The man yelps, and tries to push Peters hands of, to no avail. Once Peter is satisfied he lets the towel fall, so it lays around Stiles shoulders. They look into each other's eyes until Stiles breaks the silence.

“How did you know I was here?” he asks.

Peter thinks for a moment before he answers. “If you open this conversation, then it’s on you, and I’m not letting it go. I’m giving you an out this one time. It won’t happen again.”

At that Stiles mouth goes in a straight line, thinking it through. He then looks down and lets out a breath. “I need to change into something dry. wants to go with me, and then grab lunch.” He looks up again. “Just lunch.”

Peter understands, though he is still left frustrated. But he did give Stiles the offer. “I think I have time for that.”

xxxxxxx

Peter arrives at Derek's loft in the afternoon. He doesn’t know why Derek wants to borrow his books, but while he clearly intends to find out, he doesn’t truly mind. It’s only an advantage if Derek is more prepared for when something is going to show up in Beacon Hills again, and Peter will admit he were surprised with Dereks sudden interest.

Maybe finally someone else will take on the role as the know it all. The whole pack is acting like reading a few old books about the supernatural is absolute suffering. Another reason as to why Peter misses Stiles involvement. He had a gift for research, and a hunger for knowledge that could never be quelled. He would look at Peters dusty old books like they were a gift to the world. Which they were. But not many appreciated that.

There must be something of the saying “when speaking of the devil” because when Peter enters Dereks loft, it is Stiles he finds waiting for him. And when Peter tries to listen, there is no sign of Derek being home. Huh. Seems like Peter fell into a trap.

“Hello Stiles. I didn’t expect to meet you here,” Peter says, putting on his most charming smile. Stiles will recognize it’s fake, but it’s a matter of principle. “And where have you hidden my dear nephew? He did request my help with a few books.” Peter holds up his bag, delighted to see Stiles’ eyes immediately following it.

Stiles rises up from the couch he was sitting on. “Sadly grumpywolf couldn’t make it. I will make sure to give them to him,” Stiles answers, reaching out for the bag. Peter doesn’t hesitate to pull it back ones the other man gets too close.

Peters and Stiles’ relationship has been going back and forth the last two months. Peter absolutely regrets the out he gave Stiles, that time at the library, because the man has been able to avoid Peters confrontations every single time since then.

On one hand it is only proven again and again that there is some connection between him and Stiles, since every time Peter has an episode he either ends up at Stiles’ apartment or his father's home. On the other hand Peter is always too far away to reach there in time to get any idea of what is going on. While Stiles always has the telltale sour smell of fear, anxiety and panic, there is nothing else that hints at something going on.

It is one frustrating mess, with Stiles refusal to cooperate in the center. Why Stiles is avoiding it all, Peter doesn’t understand. These episodes do not seem like they’re going to stop anytime soon, and surely it would be quicker to solve the case if they worked together, rather than Peter having to force out the answers.

But maybe Stiles is also reaching the end of his line. If Peter has understood this situation right, then Stiles persuaded Derek into getting Peter to borrow him some books, attempting to find out what is going on, without involving Peter. As if Peter would let him do that.

This whole trap is a mess, ruined by Stiles being there to take the books, instead of Derek. Something must have gone wrong, because otherwise it doesn’t make sense. Honestly, Peter is a bit disappointed.

“Stiles, I honestly do not understand this back and forth. If you wanted to borrow my books, you could just have asked. I would love to lend them out to you,” Peter drawls, keeping the words long and slick. “I would simply require an explanation for why you would be interested in my humble collection.”

Seems like Stiles’ temper is on a short fuse today, because he is already seething. “I didn’t really feel like dealing with your stuck up self. Were hoping that you for once wouldn't act like an jerk.”

“Really, Stiles, that is no way to act in front of someone you need something from.”

“Fine, will you please lend me your books?” Stiles asks, holding out his hand. Peter doesn’t miss him rolling his eyes, though.

Peter takes a minute to think about it. “No.”

“Peter, I swear to god-”

“I don’t care who you swear to!” Did Stiles really think he were going to give up so easily? He promised that he were only going to give Stiles an out once. This time he were not letting the other man go. “Something is going on. And I’m not going to stop before I find out what it is.”

“Peter...” Stiles looked at him, a foreign, lost look in his eyes. “I don’t… I just want to be back. I just want to take care of my store and see you guys again, without anything threatening my life. Is that too much to ask?”

Now that Peter looked Stiles over, he could see the dark circles under his eyes and his skin being paler than usual. Whatever were going on were tearing at the other man. Would explain Stiles’ current mood and why he isn’t seemingly thinking things through. He lays a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“I just want to know what is happening. I’m not going to let your stubbornness destroy this pack. Tell me what it is.” Peter did try to sound kind and understanding. Maybe that would get Stiles to finally tell him something.

For a long while Stiles says nothing. He’s staring at Peter, seeming to be having an internal battle of what to do. It did seem he wanted Peters help, but something were keeping him quiet, and Peter didn’t know what it was. It was infuriating.

In the end Stiles disappointed him once more.

“I have nothing to say. Forget the books, I don’t care” He made a move to walk around Peter and leave.

Peter were having none of it. He grabbed Stiles’ arm and unceremoniously threw him onto the couch.

“Peter what the hell-”

“No one is leaving until you tell me everything. I don’t care anymore, you used up my patience. Either you tell me or I will make you.”

“I like to see you try,” Stiles says through gritted teeth.

Peter places his hands on the couch, enclosing on Stiles’ personal space. “I don’t care for what you want. Whatever this is, it might be a threat to the pack, and I’m not going to let one stupid human kill us all,” he growls

“This doesn’t concern any of you!”

“It does. More than you know.”

“I don’t see how-”

“I feel literal pain whenever whatever this is happens. I find you every time because I can feel where you are. Something is connecting the two of us in this!” They’re both shouting by now.

“I couldn’t care any less-” And then Stiles stops.

Slowly he moves his head to the side, looking at something behind Peter. It might be another trap, but Peter doesn’t care, it won’t be hard to recapture the man if he tries to run. And true enough there is nothing behind Peter, but Stiles doesn’t try anything either. When Peter looks back Stiles is even paler than before, something he hadn’t thought possible.

Suddenly Stiles is standing up, pushing Peter out of his way and Peter lets him, confused and concerned about his sudden frantic heartbeat and the smell of anxiety slowly filling the room.

Stiles doesn’t leave, but instead slowly moves backwards, frantically looking around. His eyes are wide and his hands are shaking, and Peter has no idea what suddenly triggered the man.

“Stiles, what is going on?” He asks, following Stiles movement, unsure of how he should react. Should he grab him again or give him space?

“Peter? Peter, I can’t-” Stiles looks around the whole area, almost like he’s searching for something. “Where are you?”

And that makes no sense, because Peter is right in front of Stiles, no more than a meter away, and Stiles is looking at him, but at the same time not looking at him, like something is in the way.

“Stiles I’m right here. Right in front of you.” And that is when Peter realises he is once more hit with pain, but this time it is not bad enough to stun him. It’s more like a warning that something is going on, like he weren’t aware of that already.

“Fuck, I didn’t want this to happen, I just wanted everything to be normal and not have to worry about this shit and fuck.” Stiles is bending over like he’s in pain, and then the whole room explodes in chaos.

Quite literally. The couch ruptures and all the filling blasts out covering the room. The windows don’t fall apart but they crack all the way up from floor to roof. Every light bulb bursts the glass shards falling around them, and then start flying around the room in a deadly whirlwind. And in the middle of the chaos Stiles is screaming in pain, tears running down his cheeks, while he tries to keep himself standing.

Out of everything, Peter didn’t imagine this. He has no idea what to do, no idea what is going on, but if he doesn’t do something soon, one of those shards of glass might actually kill them, when they impale their throats.

And something is different with Peter too. By now the man usually feel a need to be where ever Stiles is. This time he’s already here. It is leading him to do something and he lets his instincts take over.

He steps past all the chaos and goes straight to Stiles. Flames has begun covering his body, though he doesn’t smell like he’s burning. Peter has a moment where he is frozen in place, pure fear going through him at the prospect of touching the fire on Stiles. Then he grabs the man in something resembling a hug and wrestles them both to the floor. Once they’re down, he grab Stiles by the neck with a clawed hand, and forces the humans face into his neck.

The fire isn’t burning him, he can’t even feel it. Peter takes a deep breath. And then another. And then keeps his breathing nice and steady. He lets out something between a growl and a purr, a sound mostly pups make when they’re home and safe.

Stiles lets out a whimper and Peter presses him closer, covering him with his own body.

“you’re doing fine, Darling. I’m right here. nothing's going to happen.” A lie. Dereks apartment is already ruined. Nothing that can’t be replaced, though. “Just concentrate on breathing. In and out.”

Peter remembers the panic attacks Stiles has had before. Derek had insisted that they all learn to deal with those kind of situations, so everyone were provided with the necessary training needed. He doesn’t think Stiles is in a panic attack, not yet at least, but his instincts, and the weird pain in his chest, is telling him to more or less treat this as one. He has to keep Stiles grounded. His claws tighten around Stiles’ neck, not breaking skin, but making sure the human know they are there.

Stiles suddenly moves his arm grabbing one of Peters hands, but he doesn’t move them. Just holds on while he tries to match Peters breathing.

“That’s right, keep going. In and out, slow and steady. Nothing you haven’t tried before.” At the last sentence Stiles lets out a broken chuckle.

Whatever Peter is doing, is clearly helping, because the glass is falling to the ground, not fast, but rather slowly floating down like feathers.

It would really be something if the couch and windows repaired themselves, but sadly that is not the case. Derek aren’t going to be in a good mood when he gets back.

“Fuck.” Stiles suddenly says, though he doesn’t try to get up. He seems content leaning on Peter for now.

“Well that explained a lot and nothing at the same time.” Peter says. Guess there is only one thing to do.

xxxxxxx

“I don’t want to,” Stiles whines in the backseat of Peters car. He is rolled in a blanket, since he had felt way too cold after the earlier episode and Peter had gotten concerned.

“I don’t care,” Peter answers, on his way to Deaton to have a long nice long conversation about the current situation.

“Really, I don’t think this is necessary. We don’t have to tell anyone.” Stiles is attempting to recreate the face of a puppy, but Peters grown up with werewolves so it isn’t working. He does laugh at the other man, though.

“Fine with me, as long as you explain to Derek how you managed to destroy his apartment.” Stiles flinches at that, and then looks away mumbling about stupid werewolves and how snitches gets stitches.

They arrive at the veterinarian clinic without further accidents, and Peter helps Stiles out of the car, since the man is still too weak to stand by himself.

As always Deaton is there. Peter suspects the man rarely leave the place if he can avoid it. He doesn’t waste time warning Deaton of their arrival and just forces them both inside, placing Stiles on the nearest bunk. Deaton is in the middle of closing up, taking care of the last animals. When he turns around and sees Stiles and Peter his only reaction is to lift an eyebrow.

“And what has caused the two of you to grace me with a visit this late at night?” he asks.

Peter points at Stiles. “The moron here is causing magical explosions and has so far refused to get help. Find out what’s wrong.” Stiles looks offended by the insult, but is smart enough not to deny it. Good, Peter hasn’t drawn blood so far tonight, and he doesn’t feel like doing so now.

“And I’m safe to assume this is connected to the predicament you came to me about some time ago.” Deaton doesn’t really ask, so Peter doesn’t answer beyond a curt nod. “Alright, explain to me what happened.”

“Well, you see-” Stiles starts, but his tone of voice warns Peter that he isn’t going to give the whole truth, and he’s having none of it. He interrupts Stiles and explains everything, not keeping out how he feels about Stiles stupidity. Once he’s done, Deaton simply nods.

“I see. And Mr. Stilinski were all your attacks like the one Mr. Hale just explained?”

“Yes and no. They feel the same, but it does something different each time.” Stiles briefly looks at Peter before he continues. “The first time stuff just flew around and the second time a pipe broke and it’s a bit different every time. But I-, I get this burning feeling. In my chest. Like something is slipping out.” As Stiles speaks he visualizes his words, holding a hand right beside his heart.

Deaton nods at that and then goes over to his desk to look through the drawers. “Mr. Stilinski, I might have an idea what is going on. Just give me a moment.” He rummages through them, until he finds what he’s looking for. He shows Stiles and Peter something that looks like a white stone with a hole in the middle.

“You might remember years ago I told you that you were a spark, Mr.Stilinski, and how their magic is powered by belief.” At Stiles nod, Deaton continues. “Usually the magic of a spark is quite weak, so it’s not unusual to go through life without ever using ones power. What you’re describing, though, sounds like an overflow of magic spilling out. This-” And he holds up the stone, “will show me where the magic is coming from.” And he holds the stone in front of his eye.

For a few moments the room is quiet beyond af few hmm’s and “I see” coming from Deaton. Stiles is sitting all stiff, afraid that if he moves he will disturb whatever Deaton is doing. Peter is watching the both intently, ready to react if anything happens.

In the end Deaton simply lowers the stone, and takes one last look at Stiles. “I remember you describing to me a space inside of you, when you were possessed by the Nogitsune all those years ago.”

Stiles’ heartbeat jumps at the mention of the Nogitsune and Peter lets out a low growl.

“I have only read of cases the resembles yours, but I believe that when we dispelled the Nogitsune from you, it left that space inside of you.” Deaton pauses for a moment, whether it is for dramatic effect or to feel the tension in the room, Peter doesn’t know. “It is possible your spark has taken that space, and throughout the years it has been allowed to grow and expand. What is happening is the result of your spark reaching a point where it can no longer be contained unused inside you.”

“Wait, so I have to use it? How do I even do that? Just by believing like usual?”

“Not quite. The space inside you that it has taken aren’t completely connected with you. There is an gap. You will need to overcome that gap, and reconnect yourself and your spark.”

“And how is he going to do that,” It’s Peters turn to ask. This is something he couldn’t even have imagined. “And another thing, how am I connected to all this?”

“Oh yes, this brings on my next point. I do not yet understand your connection to Mr. Stilinski, but in this case I think it is a benefit for him. You explained how you managed to calm him down.” Deaton goes over to place the stone back where he found it. “Mr. Stilinski will have to ‘enter’ the space inside him, in order to gain control of his spark again. There are two complications about this. Him getting close to his spark without the connection has a risk of it going out of control again, just like the other times. In those cases I believe you can just do the same, as you have done today.” Deaton turns to look at the both of them. “The other problem is that whatever space or world there is inside him, when he enters he might lose himself in his own magic. Mr. Stilinski isn’t used to his power yet, and therefore it might overwhelm him. In those cases you should be able to help bring him out again.”

Deaton moves over to get pen and paper and starts writing on it. “The best case of action at the moment would be for the two of you to start training routines where Mr. Stilinski will attempt to reach his spark while you-”

“No!“ Stiles is standing up, the blanket having fallen to the floor. “No, I’m not doing this. I didn’t-, I didn’t ask for this! I don’t want magic, I want it to go away.”

“Mr. Stilinski, I’m afraid there is nothing that can be-”

“I don’t care! Find out about something. Read your books, make some elixir, there must be something that can be done!”

At the telltale signs of pain in Peters chest, the man steps forward. “Deaton, get out.” The man obeys immediately, clearly not wanting to be part of the confrontation.

“There is nothing you can say Peter, I’m not doing this shit! It’s absolute bullcrap that I have to deal with this!”

“Stiles, I have been patient with you. But there is nothing you can do about this. Denial looks ugly on you.”

“Fuck you. I’m not doing this,” Stiles shouts, while pushing Peter back.

Peter lets him, but only for a moment before he steps right back into Stiles space. “What is going on with you? You are acting nothing like the man I knew before. this bratty behavior is something I would expect from Scott, but not you.”

“Well, excuse me for being this ugly. I don’t want this, I don’t want any of this!”

“You think you can just ignore everything, hoping that the problem will go away? Are you a complete idio-”

“It worked before,” Stiles wails. “Before I could just ignore everything and it would let me be. You let me be! You had no problem letting me stay out of the supernatural before this.”

Peter does take a step back at Stiles admission, choked by all the emotion coming out of him at the moment.

“Everytime something unnatural happened you kept me out of it. Of course I noticed everything, but as long as I just kept to myself, you guys could deal with it. Why can’t I just do that anymore? Why are you so obsessed with dragging me into this all of a sudden?” Stiles ends with a sob, before he collapses in on himself.

Peter takes a moment to look at the broken man, before he kneels in front of him. “Stiles. Darling. You’re human. You wanted out, and we let you because you weren’t a part of this world from the beginning. We could deal with it, so there were no reason to get you involved when you didn’t want to.” Peter lifts Stiles chin, so their eyes are locked. Stiles isn’t exactly crying, but there is a wet shine to his eyes that hints that he isn’t far from it. “But this is different. I’m a born werewolf. I have always been a part of this world. So no matter how much I wanted to leave I wouldn’t be able to. That is how it is for everyone of my kind. It isn’t fair. It has never been fair. And right now Stiles you’re being dragged in, but there is nothing you or me can do about it.” Stiles opens his mouth to interrupt, but Peter shushes him. “No, listen to me. You’re part of this now. We can’t change that. But we can prepare you, and help you so you at least have the most possible control of what is going on around you. The thing is Stiles, you’re not alone in this. So while the world is unfair, you don’t have to face it by yourself.”

At Peters words Stiles takes a broken breath, and some time to think over his words. Finally he says “Will you really help me?” so softly that Peter isn’t sure he would have heard, if not for his werewolf hearing.

“Of course, Darling. You need to remember I’m part of this as well.”

xxxxxxx

Once Deaton comes back inside, they manage to work out a schedule for Stiles and Peter. Deaton even offers up his own office for them to use. When they’re done, it’s the middle of the night, and they leave for Peter to drive Stiles home.

He left his jeep at Dereks, but he’s actually glad Peter is driving. It gives him the freedom to sort the thoughts in his head. They’re both quiet, but when they reaches Stiles’ apartment, he decides that all the cards has to be revealed.

“I think Deaton is right about the whole “My spark is growing” and everything.” They’re standing in front of the entrance, and Peter were about to leave, but he turns around to give Stiles his full attention. Stiles continues. “Whenever my spark-, Whenever it goes out of control I have these visions. Sometimes it’s just a single tree, sometimes it’s a whole forest. But I always see them. You know how sparks usually are powered by belief, so I guess it makes sense for it to take a kind of physical form, so it’s easier for me to get.”

Stiles is a bit nervous, though he doesn’t know why. Peter has been surprisingly supportive in all of this, and his visions are probably the least terrifying thing about all that is happening.

“I just-, I just thought you should know and all.” Stiles ends, ready to hurry inside. Before he can, Peter grabs his arm, and when Stiles turns around he catches his eyes.

“Thank you for telling me.” Peter says all serious.

The mood is changing, and Stiles doesn’t know what it’s turning into, but he know he’s not ready, so he leaves a “sure” for Peter, and then goes ind. Fuck, this night didn’t turn out as expected.

xxxxxxx

Stiles is going to kill Peter. He is going to absolutely murder him. He is not cruel. He isn’t going to set fire to the man, since Peter has been burned enough for a lifetime. Instead he could stab him, though the wound might heal too quickly. He isn’t gonna attempt drowning, not risking the required strength match needed for such a feat. He could bury him alive. Would be ironic. Peter once going from dead to alive while in the ground, and then going back from alive to dead while in much the same way.

Stiles is contemplating all the different ways he could get rid of Peter, while the other man is standing at his front door, looking at Stiles expectantly. There is nothing wrong with that in itself. Except it’s four in the morning. And Peter want Stiles to get ready so they can start training in the forest. As in the preserve. As in the middle of nowhere. As in the perfect place where no one will hear him scream, as Peter brutally murders him. At four in the morning.

“No,” is all Stiles says before he closes the door in Peters face. Well, at least it was an heartfelt attempt, because as predicted Peter stops the door.

When it is clear Stiles isn’t going to make this easy, stupid of Peter to assume otherwise, he is pushed aside as Peter goes in.

“Take a bath and get dressed. you got 20 minutes” Peter orders.

“I don’t want to,” Stiles says, hoping someday his words will have the intended effect. And because he’s weak he adds: “Why the forest?”.

At that Peter smirks, like Stiles just fell in his trap. “I will tell you while we’re on our way”.

Stiles glares at Peter at that and they have a short stare-off, before Stiles lets out a deep sight and goes up to get ready. Since the pep-talk from Peter, Stiles has gotten his bottomless curiosity back, and now it’s biting him in the butt. And of course Peter knows this. because the man is an A-hole through and through.

In the beginning Stiles is intentionally slower than usual, but it only takes a threat from Peter about taking Stiles to the woods in his boxers if he isn’t ready in the required time, and then he is clothed.

Peter doesn’t hesitate before dragging Stiles out into his car, and then they’re on the road.

“So why have you decided to explicitly torture me, today of all days?” Stiles asks.

“Don’t complain, I know you were planning to have the shop closed today.”

“That is exactly why I’m complaining! I were planning videogames. Take out. No pants. Sleeping in.” Stiles knows he is whining. He deserves to whine. It’s four in the goddamn morning!

Peter is laughing at him. Not loudly, but he has that infuriating smirk and is letting out a low chuckle. Stiles thinks for himself that while he likes the sound of Peters laugh, it is still not enough for him to forgive the man.

“When I were young my mother would usually wake us up for runs at two in the morning, whenever there were going to be a full moon. You should be thankful for my charity.”

“Thankful my ass,” Stiles mumbles. Doesn’t matter. It will take some time before they reach the preserve, so he leans against the door. Hopefully Peter will let him sleep a bit before they reach whatever destination Peter has in mind.

Some time later Peter wakes him up, gently, in his own way.

By opening the car door Stiles is leaning against. And he has been kind enough to open his seat belt also, because there is nothing that stops Stiles from falling out, face first into the dirt.

Stiles manages to keep his reaction to a yelp, and he doesn’t break his face because he catches himself so he instead falls on his side, but he is still klutzy mess with his legs halfway still in the car, and immediately covered in dirt.

“Time to get up, Darling, we got places to be.” Peter takes a moment to enjoy the situation, if his grin is anything to go by, but then he starts walking in a direction clearly not waiting for Stiles to sit back and contemplate life. Stiles briefly thinks about running back to his bed by stealing the car, but would rather not have an angered werewolf chasing after him. Following Peter, it is, then.

Stiles gets up, and they start hiking through the woods. Stiles is pretty sure he manages to catch every branch with his face and trip over every root, but at no point does Peter lose him. When Stiles checks his phone, he can see that they must have been driving for a few hours, because it’s now six in the morning. Must mean that they’re close to the place Peter wants to be, right?

Stiles gets his answer when Peter finally stops walking, an hour later. He waits for Stiles to catch up, and then show where they have been heading towards.

It’s a glade. Or a clearing. There are trees surrounding it, like walls, and rocks scattered around, carved out so they form small roofs. It’s… kind of pretty. Not something Stiles has seen before, at least. And while it looks like a cool enough place to hang out, Peter did wake Stiles up at four in the morning so they could travel for three hours to get here. So Stiles is what one would call hugely disappointed.

He tries to tell Peter this, not with words, but rather by his eyes alone. Him trying to kill Peter with his glare is ignored, though, as Peter just smiles and steps away from the treeline they’re still standing at.

He turns around to look at Stiles. “Are you ready for some training?”

“Fuck you Peter,” is Stiles’ answer. And then he wonders.

This is a first. Not once before has Peter tried to drag Stiles into the forest, not even hinting at it, to do training. Every time before the man has been satisfied with them holing up at either of their homes, or at Deatons office.

“Why are we training here again,” Stiles asks, looking at Peter like he might magically reveal all his thoughts and secrets. The man is up to something.

Peter, the jackass that he is, reveals nothing. “If you stayed awake in the car, I might have told you. Get over here, we got work to do.”

Stiles doesn’t believe for a second that Peter would have told him anything, had he stayed awake, but having no way to prove that, Stiles steps forward. Might as well get this over with.

They go into the middle of the clearing, close to one of the weird rocks. Peter steps a bit back to watch Stiles, as always, and Stiles closes his eyes to concentrate.

The problem with all of this is that Stiles still don’t know what to do. He still doesn’t know what he’s looking for. And there is no way for anyone to explain it to him. Deaton doesn’t know anything beyond the stories that he has read. Peter have no idea, is only there for safety measure, to stop Stiles if he goes out of control. Stiles is all alone in this, and he has no idea what he’s doing.

It’s still weird that Peter dragged him out here into the woods. Makes no sense. Why would he suddenly do this? Stiles tries to think of anything that could be a cause for Peters change in training location.

There is nothing really. Stiles told Peter everything on the day of the ‘Big Accident’, the day he absolute destroyed Dereks apartment, so he doesn’t know why Peter is doing this so suddenly. Well, told him most of it. He will admit he didn’t really go into detail about the visions. Didn’t even describe the feeling of him burning, the way the fire would spread all around him or the explosions inside him

Maybe that is the whole point. What Stiles is looking for is not something someone else can answer, because the only person who has an idea of what his spark is like is himself. And now that he thinks about it, didn’t he just describe it? It were so weak years back, fueled by his belief, and now it is so much more, and therefore it also feels different. Stiles has been searching for how it used to be, instead of how it is now.

Stiles can feel his hands shake as he tries to bring forth the fire from whenever he went out of control. He doesn’t want for all of this to turn into chaos, of something going wrong, but that is why Peter is here. Stiles needs to search inside himself. Peter will take care of the rest.

As he has become more aware of what he’s looking for, Stiles realises that he can kind of feel it. He doesn’t feel different, because it has been there for too long. He doesn’t know how it happened, but it were slow enough that he didn’t realise when it changed.

Now that he has an idea what he is doing, he starts reaching for it. It’s kind of weird, but he guess it can be compared to those mindfulness exercises where one has feel for a specific limp or something. He tenderly brushes against it, and it’s like an electric shock, but in a good way. A warm way.

He is broken out of it though, when a cold wind breezes past him, too much of a contrast to the warmth that he is feeling inside. He opens his eyes, a bit surprised by how he had forgotten everything around him. When he looks up the sun is gone, and instead he sees suspiciously looking clouds. Peter doesn’t look worried, but he does seem bored.

The wind comes back and Stiles zips his hoodie. Peter wouldn’t bring him on an hour trek through the woods without checking the weather first right?

Stiles closes his eyes again and tries to get back into the mindset. Going back to step one, and looking at his visions as a connection between himself and his spark. He got the feeling right, but now that he thinks about it, that doesn’t explain the fact that he sees pine trees everywhere. Seriously, that is actually really weird and unexplainable. Maybe they’re somehow symbolizing his spark growing or something, based on the way Deaton explained everything. Magic doesn’t really have to make sense, he guess. They do sort of remind him of the preserve a little-

Stiles opens his eyes again and looks right at Peter. No. He can’t be serious. He didn’t bring Stiles out in the middle of nowhere based on something as inessential as that. There aren’t even pine trees in the reserve!

“You didn’t bring me all the way out here, just because I mentioned I sometimes see trees in weird places, right?” Stiles asks. He is going to kill the man.

Peter doesn’t seem to care. “Of course I did. You see nature whenever your magic goes haywire. It’s only logical to train in nature then.” Peter answers matter of factly.

“Why does it have to be here? We walked for an hour! We could have done so at the edges of the preserve. Or at a fucking park! They got nature!” Stiles isn’t shouting, but his voice is getting closer to what one would call a shriek.

“This place has positive energy. I thought it would synchronize well with your spark.”

“Positive energy?! You can take your positive energy and stick it up your-”

Before Stiles is finished the sky finally lets loose and they’re both flooded by the rain. It takes seconds for them to both get drenched.

Stiles were pointing a finger at Peter, ready to get up in his space and give him a piece of his mind, but is now frozen in place. Peters eyes a wide, clearly not having realised the change in weather before it were too late.

Stiles can feel a fire burning up in him, but this time it isn’t his magic going wild, but pure rage towards Peter.

“You dragged me through an hour long trek through the forest, to the middle of absolute nowhere and you didn’t even check the goddamn weather!?” Now Stiles is shouting.

Peter reacts to his words by grabbing him and pretty much lifting him into shelter under the rock. They’re out of the downpour, but that doesn’t really matter when they’re both already soaked to their bones. And there aren’t much space for the two of them, and Stiles really doesn’t want to be near Peter right now.

“It’s nice having survived different nightmarish creatures from hell only to die of hypothermia because a werewolf doesn’t remember to check the weather.” Stiles is already hugging himself in a failed attempt to gain a bit of heat.

“I don’t need to look at the weather. I can smell when it changes,” Peter grids out through his teeth. Good. It would be unfair if Stiles were the only one suffering.

“Oh, so it were intentional that you brought me out here? Maybe you wanted to attempt to drown me without a body of water? All hail Peters nose, the perfect tool to tell the weather, and which is never ever wrong, ever. I’m gonna fucking die!”

“You’re not gonna die. We just have to wait for it to let up, then we can go back.”

“I’m a human! Weak and no werewolf abilities to keep me warm or healthy. Scott is going to be so mad when he finds out I died because you don’t know how to check the weather.”

“Shut up. You will be fine. We just have to wait it out.”

“Yeah, let’s hope that the silly human doesn’t die of the cold beforehand. Once the rain is gone it’s just a small walk to the nearest warm place or heated car or- Oh, wait. We’re not. Cause it took us an hour to get here. and on that journey I weren’t turning into and icestick!” If Stiles dies he is taking Peter with him. Somehow.

Peter lets out a growl, and looks around like he’s hoping an solution to their predicament will jump up, and solve everything. When he sees there is nothing, he glares at Stiles. Stiles glares back. He isn’t the idiot this time. Fucking werewolves that keeps forgetting that humans aren’t invincible.

Peter snarls, and then he is dragging Stiles in for a hug. He traps him with his arms, and while Stiles is a bit taller than Peter, he somehow still manages to cave him in with his body. Stiles only manages to let out a yelp at the manhandling.

“I swear to everything unholy, if you say anything I will claw you,” Peter says, the growl deepening his voice. To someone else they might feel threatened. Stiles isn’t someone else.

“I got the right to complain about everything. You put us in this situation.” Peter must have a bit of guilt, because he doesn’t outright kill Stiles. “And move your hands will you? You might be a furnace, but my back is going to freeze off if you don’t do something.”

Peter starts to drag his hands up and down Stiles’ back, harder than necessary. In retaliation Stiles sticks his icy nose into Peters neck. They push and prod at each other, before they finally just try to share the damn heat.

Everything is so stupid. Peter thinks himself a genius, but then forget that he has humans in his pack. That necessary precautions need to be taken into consideration. It wasn’t even that bad an idea. Stiles still doesn’t get why they had to be in the middle of nowhere, but Peter did just want to help. In his backwards, avoiding way. Stupid wolf that can’t let himself be nice for the sake of being nice.

Stiles finds it in himself that he can let out a little snicker. Guess everyone is an idiot now and then. Peter looks down at Stiles, slightly confused by the change in mood.

“This will be so hilarious to tell the others if I survive. The big scary Peter Hale forgets to check the weather.”

At Peters look of disdain Stiles’ laughter grows.

“If you were a wolf it wouldn’t matter. We could just run back to the car together. Though I wouldn’t let you in it, while soaked.”

“Aww, don’t be a grumpy cat. You’re just bitter because I didn’t let you bite me.”

At that Peter sighs. “Of everyone I could have made my beta, it had to be Scott. I don’t have many regrets, but that boy is a terrible wolf.”

Now Stiles is throwing his head laughing. Peter also got a smile going. “He isn’t the best, I will give you that. But he’s trying and I think that also means something.”

“It will mean nothing when he gets gutted for not stepping up when necessary,” Peter sniffs. “But when there aren’t any threat I guess he isn’t the worst. As long as I can take care of the rest behind the scene, I guess we will survive.”

“Well as long as you aren’t in charge of checking the weather, I think we will be fine.”

Peter slightly squeezes Stiles in warning, but it’s playful and not like he’s trying to crush his bones. So Stiles just keeps on laughing.

Peter does break the mood though, a moment later. “It seems it’s letting up a bit. We might want to attempt getting back now, rather than later.”

Stiles guesses Peter is right, but he’s not looking forward to trekking back, and the rain is still bad enough that it won’t be long before he loses all the heat he required. He informs Peter of that much.

Stiles were wrong about the mood being gone, because it seems like Peter has a bit left. He lets go of Stiles and takes of his jacket. He then lifts it over Stiles’ head, indicating to use it as a shield against the rain. Once Stiles his holding it up, Peter bends down and then picks him up in his arms, bridal style.

“It will be faster like this, because then I don’t have to wait for you to keep up,” Peter says, his tone daring Stiles to say something against it.

He is doing nothing of the sort. “I’m not complaining. The faster we get back, the less the risk is of me keeling over. Lead the way Creeperwolf.”

The journey back is much quicker, to no one's surprise. Peter isn’t as fast as he could be, as he is trying to keep Stiles comfortable, but they’re still back with the car in less than an hour. While the jacket isn’t exactly an umbrella, it together with Peters body heat manages to keep Stiles from getting much wetter.

And contrary to what Peter said, he doesn’t hesitate to let the soaked Stiles into the passenger seat. He starts the car while Stiles turns up the heater to max. They’re both quiet on the way back, but it’s an comfortable quiet. The mood doesn’t really leave Stiles for the rest of the day, even when he’s back alone in his apartment, having changed to dry clothes and is laying on his couch. The day wasn’t perfect, but it was nice enough.

xxxxxxx

After the whole forest accident, Stiles and Peter agreed on taking the training sessions back to their homes and Deatons office. They do try sometimes in more ‘natural’ environments, but this time they do keep it to the edge of the preserve or the nearby park.

Todays session is happening at Deatons, and today Peter has decided to act like the little bitch he is and not leaving Stiles alone.

“A month goes by, and you still have no idea what you’re doing beyond “chasing a feeling”. I used to think of you as smarter than the average idiot, but clearly I have been too hasty.”

“Peter if you don’t shut up I’m gonna force feed you Deatons stethoscope, or better yet stick it up your-”

Stiles is sitting cross legged in the middle of Deatons floor. They moved most of the furniture along the walls, with the exception being the bunk that Peter is currently sitting on, enjoying his position since it makes it easy for him to look down on Stiles.

At least that is Stiles’ theory, it would makes sense with how it matches to Peters narcissistisk trait. Always enjoys being atop on others.

“Seriously, Darling, you managed to use you spark in the past, it makes no sense that you’re suddenly back to square shit.”

“Actually Deaton did explain why it’s like this, but I guess you’re becoming senile, with you being an old fossil and all that.”

“At least i’m not a kid, still having trouble with how to walk. One would think that you were at least a bit closer to reaching the goal with all this time.”

“Peter. I swear to god, I can’t concentrate with you blabbering on, so just be quiet.” Stiles is closing his eyes taking a deep breath. He can’t let Peter rile him up this easily, the man is just in a bad mood because someone keyed his car or pissed in his cereal this morning or something like it. Stiles smiles at the thought.

Actually Peter revealed earlier that he is intentionally being a piece of shit, because last time Stiles got closer to reaching his personal Nirvana or whatever, he was angry at Peter. Therefore the man decided to test his little theory, by gathering up all his inner scumbag and lay it out on Stiles. The challenge is that he has to deal with Peter and at the same time concentrating on reaching his spark. Not an easy feat.

“I guess a plus side would be that you don’t have any ‘magical accidents’ anymore, but that is like being proud of your child for no longer peeing their bed.”

“I regret this. Can’t you just go away, so I can do this in peace? I don’t think I need you anymore.”

“Well since you have yet to achieve anything useful, I’m still here wasting my time in case you were to lose yourself in yourself.”

“Peter just shut up, this once.”

“Honestly, it’s laughable that you can have so much power as I have seen, and you can’t even use it yourself.”

“Peter-”

“But what would one expect, you have been in denial for years, of course it would end up with you pusing your own magic away like-”

“Shut up!”

xxxxxxx

It goes all quiet. Stiles holds his breath, waiting for Peters biting retort, but nothing comes. Maybe he finally got the man to keep quiet. Stiles opens his eyes.

He is no longer in Deatons office. There is no veterinarian equipment, no animals and no assholish Peter. Instead Stiles is looking at an endless sky and a forest that seems to keep going for miles. It takes him a moment to realise he is no longer sitting, but instead is standing on the edge of a cliff. When looking down, the threes at the bottom are small enough that Stiles knows he wouldn’t survive the fall. All the trees are pinetrees, just like the visions he has been having, but somehow the whole image still make him think of the reserve.

It doesn’t take a genius to guess where Stiles is. He and Peter has been working towards this for so long, and now when he’s finally here he has no idea what to do about it.

Deaton had only told Stiles that he needed to know himself, that he had to connect with his spark. Stiles hasn’t really thought about what Deaton had meant, and now he regrets his ignorance.

But all of this should be Stiles’. The trees might just be symbolism for his spark growing and the resemblance to the reserve might just be what this symbolism is based on. But this is Stiles’. This is all his. And he needs to take it and control it.

Slowly, just barely, Stiles lifts his hand, and a gasp slips through his lips. He looks down at his arm, now reaching out in an awkward position, but he makes sure not to move his head while doing so.

He had felt that. Not just himself and the subconscious feeling from moving one's arm. No, he had felt the world.

If air had had a texture, if it had been something touchable beyond the feeling of the wind, Stiles imagines this is what it would feel like. It’s like he’s moving through a mass of molasses, but at the same time it’s not restricting his movement in any way. It is just making him more aware.

Stiles hesitates briefly and then he is moving his arm until he is facing his palm. And the movement makes him realise something. What he’s feeling isn’t some touchable air. No, what he is feeling is the entire world around him.

As he moves he can feel the sway of the trees in a drowsy wind. He can feel a stream flowing across the land. He can feel the growth of every plant, though they rise oh, so slow.

He takes a breath and suddenly he can taste the earth and water and air, all mixing together in an endless flow.

A giddiness rises in Stiles as he is feeling everything and he rises both his arms and lets out a laugh that feels like it’s been kept inside for too long.

This is him. Everything, from the dirt to the leaves to the sky is him, and in one way it’s just like being subconsciously aware of his own body in everyday life, and on the other hand it’s so much more. It’s an extension, and dimensional addition to himself. He is everything and everything his him and he is the orbit of this world.

With the adrenaline rushing to his head, and the sudden awareness of everything, he does the only logical thing he can think of.

He jumps off the cliff.

The fall is quick, with the wind rushing against him, and his laughter is a pursuing track that he leaves behind.

As the ground gets closer Stiles realised he miscalculated the distance. From his vantage point Stiles had thought the trees had been of normal size, but is now releasing the sheer magnitude of plant life his spark has been creating. He falls, and falls and falls and the ground is still not near him.

Until it suddenly is.

But as Stiles had known, somewhere in the back of his own mind, the fall doesn’t hurt him.

He lands with his hands and a knee in the ground, blowing away pines and dust in every direction. He slowly stands up and see no signs of damage on himself. Now he is instead looking up at the magnificent forest, larger than anything Stiles has ever seen.

Stiles once read about a conspiracy theory that there didn’t actually exist forests on earth. What were believed to be trees were actually only saplings, and instead all trees had been chopped down. The belief were that mountains was actually the stumps of those trees. And when Stiles looked at the forest around him, he suddenly found it more believable.

While the trees weren’t the size of mountains, they were certainly as thick as houses. The pine leaves were so far up, that they seemed more like a dark and terrifying sky.

The forest didn’t seem close. There was a lot of space between the trees, but if one were to match the size of the trees, there didn’t seem to be much gap to move around them.

Stiles could feel himself getting overwhelmed by the magnitude of the forest, and had to redirect his thoughts. He pushed his hands into his cheeks for a moment, taking a deep breath, when the movement reminded him of the creek he felt earlier.

All of it were Stiles and Stiles’, and he didn’t remember the last time he felt such a strong need to explore as he did now. And with the adrenaline still going through him, from his jump and his realisations of the forests true size, he took one last breath.

And he ran.

He knew the others had run together sometimes, when they all still lived in Beacon Hills and the moon were full. Being one of the humans he had opted to stay behind, it being impossible for him to keep up with the wolves. Their unnatural speed were no match for him, even with his training of running from monsters, out for his life.

All of this didn’t matter. There were no one to outpace him. Nothing to chase him. There were just him and the nature and himself.

And he ran.

xxxxxxx

Stiles opened his eyes, realising someone were shaking his body and calling his name.

He felt groggy, his mind not there yet. It were like he just woken up from hibernation and had to remember how it felt to be awake.

When the shaking didn’t stop, he tried to get his mind to catch up and realised it were Peter.

A mix between desperation and worry were radiating off him, his eyes sharp.

Realising he hadn’t yet given a sign of being alive, Stiles managed to mumble a “I’mma fine,” not really getting the words right. But it didn’t matter because it got Peter to go quiet. Nothing happened for a moment, then Peter suddenly started to move Stiles around again.

This time it were to just carefully lay him down, placing his hands against Stiles’ cheeks to move his head so they could have eye contact.

Still feeling Peters angst and worry, Stiles managed to move his hand to clumsily pat Peters arm.

“Heya, Creeperwolf,” Stiles managed more clear this time around.

At Stiles words Peter let out a big “Fuck!” before laying his head against Stiles chest. He took a few breaths in quick succession, and then glared at Stiles.

“Don’t scare me like that again!”

Stiles could only look dumbly at Peter, not really understanding what he had done in the first place. He didn’t have to wonder for long, because Peter were quick to fill him him.

“Suddenly going quiet on me and then not answering when I screamed at you! You didn’t react, didn’t move, acting just like the dead! Deaton warned you that you could get lost, did you at all consider his words?!”

Oh yeah, Stiles could faintly remember Deaton telling him to be carefull or something. Stiles hadn’t cared at the time, still hoping he could get out of the whole thing.

Well, then no wonder Peter were acting like this. Would be a problem if he had been the only witness to Stiles suddenly going comatose on them all. How would he ever explain that to Scott?

At least that were probably what Peter told himself. But Stiles weren’t an idiot. He had heard the worry in Peters voice, and it hadn’t been towards himself. Peter could deny it for himself for now, Stiles were just going to enjoy the attention for the moment.

Realising how Peters bitch-face getting worse by the seconds of Stiles not answering him, Stiles “hmm”, at him, and got both hands up to pet him. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

Peter just sighed at that, sliding his hand down the side of his face. Probably trying to think back to when he managed to get his ass caught in Stiles’ trouble, so he would know exactly what he would need to regret. Stiles never claimed he was easy to deal with.

But Peter might be one of the few who could manage.

A few seconds ticked by, as Peter calmed himself , though Stiles didn’t seem to get better. His impatience caught up with him as he tried to get up, but was halted in his movement by Peters hand on his chest, lightly pushing him down. It wasn’t a hard feat, even with werewolf strength. All of Stiles’ body still felt weak.

“Could we maybe get up from the floor soon. I’m starting to get cold.” Stiles hesitated for a moment, before a smile started to form on his face. “Can’t have a repeat of the forest, can’t we? Someone might actually catch us cuddling this time,” Stiles said as he led out a tired laugh.

Peter just rolled his eyes and stood up. In a swift movement, quick enough to make Stiles dizzy, Peter lifted him up, and began to walk towards the entrance to the clinic.

“Wa- wait! There is a perfectly usable bunk right here! Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home. I see no reason for us to stay. It’s dirty, it stinks, and quite frankly I think you would be better off in a bed,” Peter spoke.

When he got to his car, he laid Stiles across the backseat. He then got to the driver seat himself and started the car. Stiles glared at Peters back, when he heard a sound that sounded suspiciously like a kiddy-lock click in place.

But he didn’t have the energy to do anything in the moment, so he let it go. For now.

Once Peter had driven for a few minutes, Stiles broke the silence.

“It worked.”

Peter looked back at him, indicating that he was listening, but didn’t say anything. Stiles continued.

“To be honest, I didn’t imagine how it were, at all. It was just one big forest, kind of like the reserve, except everything were the size of houses! I never seen anything like it.” Stiles tried to think about a way to explain everything he had experienced inside himself, but didn’t know how. Everything had been so unique and different from how reality works. It were something one had to experience for themselves.

Or maybe- “I think it was the same feeling, like when Frodo and everyone sees the architecture of the mines of Moria for the first time. Like, it’s just so unbelievable.”

Peter breaks his silence. “I have no idea what you’re trying to describe to me. I have never seen the movies.”

At Peters admission, Stiles let out a loud gasp. “You never seen Lord of the Rings?! You heathen! I can’t be seen with you! What would people think of me?” Stiles pretends that he tries to open the door, in order to throw himself out of the moving car, and while he had been right about the kiddie-lock, he still got a slap from Peter for his trouble.

“I’m sure the movies are more overrated, than you wanna admit”

“Blasphemy! Those are words only uttered by the devil!” Stiles lays back down laughing. That small stunt had taken the little energy he had gotten back. God, he was tired.

“You know, being a magical being myself didn’t really fuel my interest for fantasy movies. It would probably just be like watching my own everyday life, except I wouldn’t get to be the main character anymore.”

At that Stiles laughs. “I guess I can see your point. Still, awesome movies. I just have to sit you down sometime, so we can watch them together.”

Peter seemingly doesn’t have a reaction to Stiles’ words, beyond him slightly moving his hand on the gear shift, and a weak twitch of his shoulder. Someone who didn’t know him wouldn’t think any deeper of this. But they hint at something more, of Peter wanting to do or say something, but holding himself back.

Stiles catches both of those movement, since he were already watching Peter intently. Peter doesn’t answer him, and Stiles doesn’t start up the conversation. For the rest of the ride they’re both sitting, or laying in Stiles’ case, quietly and in their own thoughts.

xxxxxxx

Stiles wakes up in his bed. He isn’t sleepy, he isn’t tired, actually he feels like he’s been awake for hours, fresh and full of energy.

He practically jumps out of bed and suddenly remembers how he don’t remember how he got there. Peter must have brought him in.

Speaking of the devil, the man is still in Stiles’ apartment, as Stiles finds out once he moves into the living room. The man in question is sitting on Stiles couch watching some old movie on Stiles TV. The room smells of grilled toast and bacon, and sure enough Stiles finds a whole breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen.

“What's up, Creeperwolf, you’re still here? Not sneaking back to your evil lair?” With a plate filled, Stiles goes back to fall down next to Peter.

“I decided to stay to make sure you didn’t die in your sleep. The paperwork would be too much of a hassle.”

Stiles laughs at that. “True. I see your argument and appreciate the notion.”

Peter is smiling. Stiles isn’t looking directly at the man, but out how the corner of his eyes, he can see Peters lips going upwards. He is relaxed. Leaning back in the couch and no tension in his body. Stiles can’t hold it in any longer.

“We fucking did it. I got in there. I felt it. I know what it is.”

“Well, from my point of view you almost got lost until I yanked you back to reality, so a complete success it was not.”

“Shut up, this is worth celebrating. This means that I can do it again, and know what I’m doing.”

“”Knowing what you’re doing” is relative, but I guess we did reach the next step.” Peter is laughing a teasing glint in his eyes. Suddenly the laughs disappear and instead he is giving Stiles a smile, that has a level of tenderness and affection, that Stiles doesn’t think Peter is aware of. “Congratulation, Stiles. You did well.”

Stiles briefly wonders how they got here. They spent a lot of time together before the ‘Big Accident’, and they only saw each other more often afterwards. Somewhere along the way they went from friendship to special moods and Peter making breakfast. Peter worrying. Peter making sure he were okay.

And that is something Stiles thinks about. He enjoys being with the man, and enjoys the time they spend together, even when Peter riles him up. It’s okay, because he also riles Peter up.

Stiles eats some toast, staring at the TV, but he isn’t seeing anything. Stiles and Peters relationship has evolved, and Stiles has to figure out what he wants it to be.

Peter is an A-hole. He’s an (ex)killer and he’s still morbid and bloodthirsty to this day. There might not be any member in the pack that Peter hasn’t hurt in some way. Stiles is also pretty sure that if he wasn’t somehow connected to Stiles, if he hadn’t felt pain everytime Stiles went out of control, Peter wouldn’t have cared about it the way he does now. He would probably still have helped, but mostly because otherwise Scott and Derek would be disappointed in him.

But Peter did help. His ideas weren’t always the best and he was a huge pain in the ass while doing so, but he still tried. Wanted Stiles to succeed.

And while Peter might not have done so before, Stiles can see that Peter worries now. Can see that Peter cares now.

Slowly Stiles places his plate onto the table in front of them and turns toward Peter. When the man doesn’t immediately turn towards him, Stiles gently moves his chin so their eyes can meet.

Peter is a good looking man. But it doesn’t matter, because he is also funny, smart, a jerk and the most annoying man Stiles has ever had the fortune to meet. And most importantly: he likes Stiles, and Stiles likes him.

He is absolutely beautiful and Stiles knows what he wants.

“I want to kiss you. I won’t do it unless you let me, but I really want to kiss you.” Peter eyes widens and briefly Stiles looks at his lips. They are moving like they’re forming words, but nothing is said. Shouldn’t surprise Stiles that feelings was what was needed to shut him up.

Peter is hesitating and Stiles think he has an idea why. He moves so he is stradling Peters lab. It is not meant to been seen as sexual, but to make it harder for Peter if he tries to run away. He moves Peters hands so they’re resting lightly at his waist.

“You know, you’re allowed good things, right? You aren’t the villain. No need to keep yourself away from this, if you want it. I want it.”

Peters mind is a mess, Stiles can see that, but he waits patiently for Peter to sort it all out. Stiles knows when he has made a choice, because his eyes fills with determination and then he surges up to capture Stiles lips with his own.

The kiss is nice and strong, filled with the build up of the last few months. Peters grib on Stiles tightens and Stiles moves his arms around Peters shoulders. Lets Peter take his weight.

They break the kiss, both taking deep breaths, but Peter isn’t satisfied because he then proceeds to pester Stiles with small pecks all over his face, making Stiles laugh.

“Alright big boy, I think that is enough for now.” Stiles tries to move off Peters lab, but the man doesn’t let him.

“If you think I’m letting you go after all this time, then you truly are more stupid that Scott.” He gives Stiles one last peck, before nuzzling his face in the crook of his neck.

It tickles, Stiles laughing while trying to push him away, but Peter is a supernatural superstrong being, so it’s all in vain.

he does manage to push Peter away, far enough, that they can lock eyes once again. “Well, if there really is nothing I can do-” And Stiles is smiling and is all warm inside, and this time it’s not a warning that his magic is breaking out. He found out how to connect with his spark. he has found out how to connect with Peter, even though that had never been his goal. And getting pulled into the magical business might not be as bad as he feared. As long as he has this A-hole to keep him company in the future, it might actually be good instead. “-what about we do that Lord of the Rings marathon we talked about earlier?”