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Peter isn’t fooled by the seasonal advertisements and wintery cheer; it’s a day like any other. He’s still packless in practice, what with Cora and Derek being back in South America, Malia in France, and Scott’s new pack still not appreciating Peter’s particular brand of pragmatism. Despite this, Peter still can’t bring himself to leave the home of his ancestors. After all, Peter is the only around who can open the Hale vault. Mother Nature has even picked up on Peter’s mood, with the forecast predicting an unexpectedly wet Christmas.
Since it’s a day like any other, Peter isn’t among the throng of shoppers in downtown Beacon Hills trying to buy last minute gifts for friends, family, and loved ones. Instead, Peter is doing is regular grocery shopping because he always goes shopping on Tuesdays, holiday season be damned. It’s about what he expected, to be honest: frazzled parents, whiny kids, and long lines because the stores never manage to get enough cashiers for the holiday rush. What Peter isn’t expecting to see is Stiles Stilinski, contemplating the sweet onions in the produce aisle. He’s trying to decide whether it’s appropriate to greet a former pack member who’s made such great efforts to escape the spiraling vortex of Beacon Hills, but the choice is taken from his hands once Stiles spots him.
“Hey Peter! Fancy seeing you here.” Stiles tries to discreetly check Peter’s cart. “Any big Christmas plans?”
“Just a quiet night by myself. You?”
“I’m going to see the new Star Wars movie!” It does make sense, given that half of our Stiles’ wardrobe is still graphic tees, judging by his current movie. “What do you mean by yourself?”
“It means what it sounds like, Stiles.” Peter maneuvers his cart away and goes about the rest of his errands. Stiles was always the clever one and used to be Peter’s favorite, but now seeing Stiles just reminds him of the way things were and how they could have been.
What Peter didn’t tell Stiles is that the old Hale pack used to run on Christmas Eve until midnight, at which point the children would each open one of their presents under the tree. Peter’s long since outgrown the early gift opening, but running through the Preserve is one of the few things that still connects him to his past. By the time he’s finished putting away the groceries, the sun is already set. Peter drives to the old Hale house, leaves his clothes in the car, and runs the way he hasn’t in a long time. Once it’s time to go home, he changes back into his clothes and drives home home satisfied, just like he used to.
What catches Peter by surprise is seeing Stiles in his apartment, wearing a too large Santa costume, standing precariously on one of his upholstered chairs, trying to string tinsel. He almost falls off the chair once he realizes he’s been made.
“Stiles, why did you break into my apartment?”
“Everyone knows it’s not really breaking and entering if you’re wearing a Santa costume! Did you know that they don’t make Santa costumes in my size? That’s body discrimination, you know.”
Peter can’t tell if he’s supposed to feel amused or exasperated. “Like I said, why did you break into my apartment?”
Stiles shrugs while untangling himself from the tinsel. “I talked to Scott, who confirmed you weren’t doing Christmas with the pack, and I saw a distinct lack of Christmas cheer in your cart so I figured I’d lend a helping hand.” Stiles takes a moment to pause and point at the ceiling. “Also I taped mistletoe all over the ceiling. By my calculations you owe me at least three kisses.”
Peter glances up. “Mistletoe? That’s just plastic holl-”
“It’s mistletoe, Peter.”
Peter watches Stiles’ face closely. His lips are very kissable. “I’m not kissing you.”
“Think of it as a Christmas present. Unless you already bought me one?” Stiles waggles his eyebrows suggestively.
“Fine.” Peter grabs Stiles by his red coat, and plants a quick peck on his lips before he can get carried away. He sees Stiles grin before turning away to ineffectually tidy the kitchen counter. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas. You can come see the new Star Wars movie if you want. You still owe me two kisses, by the way.”
Stiles turns and leaves, finally giving Peter a chance to better survey the damage. The tinsel and Christmas lights are growing on him. He rummages through the boxes Stiles left behind and finds more lights, most of a tree, some candy cane ornaments, and another case full of mistletoe. His spirits lifted higher than they have been in a long while, Peter continues to decorate his apartment. Maybe he’ll go to the movies with Stiles tomorrow. He owes him two more kisses, after all.