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After the nogitsune, after all the blood on his hands--blood everyone tells him isn't there from any of his actions; the murders are not his fault--Stiles can't sleep in his room. At first, like a little kid awakened by a nightmare or summer storm, he sleeps with his dad, but, with the sheriff's station once again low on deputies, his dad works all hours and after a few nights, he's no longer there.
Stiles tries the couch, but the house itself is oppressive with memories, and the nightmares leave him clammy with sickness and shaking like a leaf.
The circles beneath his eyes grow darker. He loses more weight. Everyone is worried. His dad mentions therapy but there's no one but Morell who'd understand and Stiles is terrified of Eichen House, plus he doesn't trust her.
He can't go to Scott. When he looks at Stiles, the Alpha's smile never extends to his eyes. He's grieving and it's Stiles' fault. Not only did he take Allison from him, he took Isaac as well, as the Beta went to France with Chris.
Lydia's too complicated. Going to her would open up emotions neither are ready to deal with--what happened in that filthy tunnel between her and the nogitsune wearing his face is something Stiles can't face. She's grieving as well and it's just not the right time to address his tangled feelings for her.
Derek's disappeared again and that's complicated, too.
But, in the end there's only one real answer, one place he can go, one person who can understand better than any being a killer.
Peter takes him in without question, offering him the couch and a cup of chamomile tea, and Stiles' sleep is deep and free from nightmares. The next night he returns for the same, and then again and again, only staying home those rare nights his dad does as well. Slowly they begin to talk.
It's better than a therapist. Peter accepts him as he is, doesn't spout useless platitudes, doesn't coddle him. Eventually anger comes out, along with the grief and confusion and self-loathing, and Peter just listens and occasionally snaps back at him to own what happened. If Stiles isn't willing to accept that he didn't do any of those things of his own volition then he needs to own them and move on.
Maybe it's not that much of a surprise when moving on includes moving into the werewolf's bed. Stiles ignores the calculation in Peter's eyes, the thought that all these nights built to this by design. After all, if anything of the fox lingers, it's the seamless ability to manipulate and he's probably been playing Peter as well.
Perhaps they're made for each other. Perhaps they'll end up killing each other. Perhaps the passion will burn them to ash.
Life is all a game.
End