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“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Stiles shouts at Peter from his place on the floor curling ribbons with scissors.
“Wrapping the god awful sweater you bought Derek for christmas.” Peter says, eyes trained on the wrapping paper and clothes box in his hands. Stiles drops everything and crawls over to the bed. He sits beside Peter and yanks the box away from him.
“Not like that you aren’t.” Stiles says. Peter sighs and throws his head back. Stiles can hear the crack where it hits the wall behind him. “You really shouldn’t do that you know.” He really shouldn’t there are cracks and dents all over the room where Peter has banged or hit one part of his body or another against it.
“I can’t help it you exasperate me.” Peter says with a flourish of his hand. The movement is weak at best. Not as sharp or elegant as it would’ve been years ago. But back then he was always putting on a show. Each movement and word calculated. This time there was no show. In this room, just of two of them Peter only has to be Peter. “What was I doing wrong this time?” He asks, looking back over to Stiles. When they make eye contact Stiles looks back down to where he’s re-wrapping Derek’s sweater.
“The corners. Folding corners isn’t exactly rocket science but watching you do it is like watching a mall santa drinking. It’s depressing and totally killing my holiday buzz.” Stiles groans.
“I’m not sure the mall santa would agree with you there.” Peter says. Stiles looks up and sees Peter’s smirk. It’s not the trademark smirk of the psychopath he was but the smirk that’s barely containing raucous laughter that Stiles has come to know over the last year and a half he’s been visiting Peter. Stiles balls up a piece of wrapping paper and throws it at Peter’s head. Peter catches it and smoothes it out over his thigh. “Besides I don’t think Derek really cares about how the corners on his Christmas present are wrapped.”
“You’re wrong.” Stiles says before going back to smoothing down the edges and carefully tapping them in place.
“Oh really? About what?” Peter asks. An air of smugness about him, like he doesn’t expect Stiles to have answer. Which is fair because sometimes he doesn’t.
“Most things actually. Derek does care he just doesn’t know he cares. It isn’t about the corners or the wrapping paper. It’s not even about the present itself. Derek isn’t going to look at this gift and see a meticulously wrapped red and green present. He’s going to see that someone cared enough to wrap it in the first place. That he’s part of a family again.” Stiles says. He closes his eyes and thinks about the look Derek gave him the first time he gave him a christmas gift. Pure and utter shock. But Stiles gives everyone a present, he even mails one to Jackson in London. His mom always said ‘Everyone deserves a present on Christmas.’
“And what would he see if he knew I had helped you wrap all these precious gifts?” Peter’s voice seeps into Stiles flashback. Stiles opens his eyes and looks at Peter. He looks scared. Honest to god scared. It’s a rare look on Peter and it makes Stiles’ protective boyfriend side swell.
“Peter. Don’t do this to yourself. It doesn’t matter what Derek sees or what any of them think. What’s important is you. You are not the person you were two years ago Peter. You’re not even the same guy you were before the fire.” Stiles reaches out and wraps his fingers around Peter’s hands, they’re shaking.
“Then who am I Stiles?” Peter looks up at Stiles and looks so helpless, like a puppy left outside to wonder why no one wants it. Stiles never wants Peter to feel that way. Because he isn’t just wanted. He’s needed.
“You’re better. You’re not perfect but you’re better. You know that, I know that and when you have your last session with Dr. Anders you’ll be released from this place and you’ll never have to come back.” Stiles says, his grip tightening on Peter’s hands.
“And then what? I go back to my apartment in what I would loosely call downtown Beacon Hills?” Peter scoffs.
“No then we go where ever you want. London, Paris, Madrid, Nebraska. Where ever.” Stiles looks into Peter’s eyes as he says this. He wants Peter to truly understand what he’s saying. ‘This place’ isn’t just the cell or Eichen House but Beacon Hills and it’ll be hard of course it will. But Stiles would rather it be hard to leave then impossible to stay.
“Why would you do that? Leave the place you’ve called home your entire life?” Peter asks and it breaks Stiles’ heart.
“Because I couldn’t stay without you. The days when you I don’t visit I have nightmares. I relive every single thing the nogitsune did while in my body. Because I’m better too but only I’m with you.” Stiles is crying by the end full on ugly crying with hiccups and snot dripping into his mouth. But Peter doesn’t seem to care. He pulls Stiles into a tight, warm hug. Derek’s present gets knocked onto the floor and Stiles wipes his tears and spit and snot on Peter’s chest. “Besides Derek sold your apartment a year ago.” Peter laughs the full body laugh that shakes Stiles with him. Stiles looks up and Peter uses his hand to wipe away the remaining tears.
“San Francisco. It’s a beautiful city and close enough for you to come back and visit or your family and friends to come and visit us.” Stiles smiles and Peter and leans up to kiss him. It’s slow and soft and everything Stiles needs right now. They’ll have plenty of time for fast and hard when they start their life together. All Stiles needs now is to show Peter how much he loves him and feel how much Peter love him back. Which it turns out is a lot because they don’t end up getting anymore presents wrapped that day. Instead they kiss and cuddle and eventually fall asleep surrounded but bright red and green wrapping paper, a pile of unwrapped gifts forgotten on the floor.