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Peter glances around the room, not bothering to hide his distaste; this isn't exactly how he was imagining he'd be spending his weekend. Stiles follows right behind him, shutting the door and carelessly tossing his backpack on the floor.
"What the hell? What is this? I thought they said the room had two beds! Did you do this, Peter?" he asks accusingly, glaring first at the bed - just one, apparently - in the middle of the room and then at Peter.
Peter fixes him with an unimpressed look. "If I wanted to take you to bed, sweetheart, it'd be in a damn five-star hotel, not... here," he says and doesn't miss the way Stiles' cheeks turn pink even as he keeps glaring at him. It's endearing how he thinks he can intimidate a wolf with that cute little frown of his.
"I knew I'd regret calling you," Stiles grumbles and shuffles to the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress, now busy with his phone, probably checking in with Scott who's in the next room.
When Stiles called him that morning earlier today to tell him that he, Scott and Kira were meeting with another pack a few towns away and asked him to come along, Peter's first instinct was to say no. Spending his Saturday with Scott McCall isn't exactly his ideal kind of Saturday. But Stiles insisted - because of course he would -, telling him that no one else was available and that he'd strangely feel much safer if they had a former lunatic with them in case anything happened - trouble seems to follow these kids everywhere, after all - and that it's a great opportunity for Peter to prove to the pack that he's not still a total psycho.
They both know he doesn't give a damn about the pack, but he might have a soft spot for Stiles, so he ended up agreeing.
And now here he is.
And, okay, the room the other pack offered them might suck and playing nice with them bored Peter to death after a while and his weekend was definitely ruined, but if he's honest things could have been worse. He certainly doesn't mind being paired up with Stiles, even when the boy is being an annoying little brat- or maybe, especially then.
He lets out a quiet, tired sigh - it's been a long day - and decides to use the bathroom first, since Stiles doesn't seem to plan on moving any time soon.
When Peter comes back from the bathroom, Stiles is right where he left him, eyes still on his phone as he absentmindedly chews on the pad of his thumb. Peter tries not to stare too obviously; the boy's mouth seems to always be busy with something, whether he's talking or not. It's quite distracting.
Stiles catches his gaze and raises his eyebrows in question, but Peter just offers him a small smirk in reply and shuffles to his side of the bed, starting to take his clothes off.
"Uh, what are you doing??" Stiles asks, because of course the silence wouldn't last for much longer.
"What does it look like?" Peter says, raising an eyebrow at him as he neatly folds his jeans and places them on the desk along with his t-shirt.
"Where are your clothes?" He asks, arms flailing as he gestures to Peter, but he doesn't avert his gaze from him even as the adorable blush from before returns to his cheeks.
"I usually sleep completely naked, so, really you should be thankful. Unless, of course, you'd prefer-"
"No! Fine. Whatever," he says quickly and shoots him a glare, before grabbing his things from the floor and going to the bathroom, coming back a few minutes later, now wearing plaid pajama pants and a white t-shirt.
"The bed reeks of other people," Peter complains as he settles under the covers, thankful for the smell of fabric softener lingering on the blanket, even though it doesn't help much.
"Can't you, like, block the smells out or something?"
"How did I not think about it before! Thank you, Stiles. Ingenious idea, truly."
"I'm trying to help, asshole."
Okay, well, perhaps Stiles can help, now that Peter thinks about it. He'll just have to focus on Stiles' familiar, welcome scent. It'll make everything else more bearable.
Stiles finally shuffles to the bed, hesitating only for a moment before joining Peter, slipping under the covers and reaching to turn the lights off.
Peter welcomes the steady sound of Stiles' heartbeat - a bit faster than most people's like it always is - focusing on that and ignoring any other noises coming from the rest of the house. He's not used to sharing his space with so many people - not since before the fire, that is - and he's grateful that at least it's Stiles he's sharing the bed with.
Peter has started relaxing, his eyelids growing heavy, and he's finally slowly drifting off to sleep, when Stiles suddenly moves on the bed. Once. Then twice.
And then again.
And again.
Honestly, Peter doesn't know why he's surprised; Stiles can rarely stay still for more than a few seconds. Why would now be any different?
For the next couple of minutes Stiles shifts and fidgets and as much as he tries to lie on the edge of the mattress, the bed isn't that big and his arms and legs keep brushing against Peter.
Peter doesn't mind being close to Stiles - quite the opposite, if he's honest - but this is getting really annoying. Peter can be patient, but he can only handle so much, especially when he's tired and all he wants is to sleep.
He frowns when he notices that Stiles' scent has turned sour and less than pleasant, as if the boy is distressed. If it were anyone else Peter would assume he is the problem - sharing the bed with a werewolf that had gone into a murder spree and isn't even sorry for most of it is definitely not the wisest decision - but Stiles doesn't smell like fear.
He knows Stiles hasn't been scared of him for a while now.
Even when they first met and Peter was at least half mad, the kid smelt of excitement more than anything else.
So, it's safe to say that this isn't the problem right now.
Then again Stiles doesn’t have to fear him in order to not want to share the bed with him.
Peter sighs and then speaks, even though he's almost sure he'll regret it. "What is it?"
"Nothing," comes immediately the reply from Stiles and Peter doesn't even have to listen to his heartbeat to know that that's a lie.
"You smell horrible."
"Jeez, thanks," Stiles mutters and Peter rolls his eyes even though Stiles can't see it, turned with his back to Peter as he is.
"You know what I mean."
Stiles huffs and grumbles under his breath, but doesn't reply, which only manages to irritate Peter even more.
"Hey, this isn't all fun for me either, you know. If you didn't want to be paired up with me, you should have said something."
"And what, you'd sleep with Scott?" Stiles says, now snickering, and Peter can't help grimacing at the thought.
"I'd book a fucking hotel room. Or you can always take the floor if you want to," he says and waits for a snarky comeback from Stiles, but the boy only sighs in defeat.
Peter's frown deepens. Stiles is silent for several moments and then turns so he's lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling. "The pack invited us to stay, you couldn’t have just gone to a hotel, Peter. That would’ve been rude! And that’s not the problem, anyway."
"Then, what is it?"
The scent of embarrassment hits his nostrils now and when he turns to lie on his side, he can see Stiles chewing on his lower lip, his hands fidgeting over the blanket.
Peter really can't imagine what the problem might be.
"I didn't bring my pillow," Stiles mumbles eventually and there's a stubborn, little pout on his lips now.
Peter pauses, frowns again. He's quite sure he heard that correctly but it still doesn't stop him from asking. "Your pillow?"
"Yeah, I... I can't sleep without my pillow," Stiles tells him and for a moment Peter thinks Stiles is joking, but his heart is beating steadily - even though faster than normal - and the smell of embarrassment only grows stronger.
A smile spreads on Peter's face before he even realizes it, his expression turning softer. This was definitely not what he was expecting and he can't help but find it endearing.
He hums thoughtfully. "What can I do to help?"
Stiles' head snaps towards him, obviously surprised, and he narrows his eyes at him suspiciously, probably trying to understand if Peter's mocking him.
He just shrugs after a few seconds, hopefully realizing Peter's question was genuine, and he sits up on the bed, making a pitiful noise that's close to a whine, his shoulders sagging. Then he yawns - he looks pretty tired - and turns his head to glare at the pillow he's supposed to use, like it has personally offended him.
It's quite adorable.
Peter isn’t really surprised that the whole situation - that Stiles - awakens his instinct to protect and care and provide. And well, it might also remind him of years ago when his nieces and nephews would come to him when they had a nightmare and couldn't sleep and all he wants to do now is make sure the boy he’s sharing the bed with is okay.
Besides he won't be able to get any sleep either if Stiles keeps moving and wiggling and smelling so miserable. He focuses on that and tells himself he's being absolutely selfish as he reaches for Stiles' arm and easily draws his pliant body towards him.
"Come here," he says gently and Stiles makes a confused noise but doesn't protest as Peter pulls him in his arms, letting Stiles' head rest on his chest while he starts running his hand through the boy's soft hair.
"How about this, sweetheart?" He asks, the pet name escaping him without much thought, feeling right on his tongue. "See? No pillow needed."
He sort of expects Stiles to fight him on this, to at least try to pull away, but Stiles just hums and makes a needy, sleepy, little sound, snuggling up even closer to him and rubbing his cheek against Peter's chest, all but melting under his touch, the tension slowly leaving his body. "Yeah, okay."
Another yawn follows Stiles' words and then he relaxes completely, as if he's exactly where he's meant to be. When Peter tilts slightly his head to look at him, he's pleased to see that Stiles' eyes are already dropping closed.
"There's a good boy," he murmurs softly and presses a kiss on the top of Stiles' head. He can't help leaning in and nuzzling his hair, inhaling his scent that has turned sweet again; Stiles smells relaxed and content and wonderfully safe and the pleased little noise he makes causes warmth to bloom in Peter's chest.
Then Stiles shifts and drapes an arm over Peter's chest, throwing a possessive leg over his hips, making Peter grin.
He doesn’t really remember the last time he actually cuddled with someone; he’s just sure it’s been years since then.
And this feels really nice. Even his wolf seems to agree, rumbling quietly in satisfaction.
Peter falls asleep soon after, lulled by Stiles’ even heartbeat.
**
The next morning Peter wakes up to Stiles trying to slip out of his embrace. Peter wouldn't mind staying in bed for a bit longer - perhaps spending some more time cuddling and scenting the boy - but Stiles seems to be determined to get up, so Peter reluctantly loosens his hold.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Peter rasps and Stiles jumps a little, apparently not having realized Peter is awake.
He gives Peter an awkward smile and mumbles a 'morning', before grabbing his bag and disappearing in the bathroom.
When Stiles comes back, Peter is still lying in bed, hands behind his head as he watches Stiles move around the room, now dressed in his usual jeans and flannel. He's clearly nervous - his scent is giving him away just as much as his movements - and Peter raises a questioning eyebrow at him as Stiles makes his way to the bed and then sits, legs folded under him.
"About last night-" Stiles starts and Peter is quick to interrupt him; if that's what has Stiles smelling so nervous, they don't have to talk about it. Peter loves teasing and tormenting the boy, but he can be merciful sometimes- well, on rare occasions, and apparently this is one of those.
"Don't even mention it."
"Well, I'm gonna," Stiles says stubbornly, even as his face turns a pretty shade of pink; it makes Peter want to brush his lips against his cheeks to see if they're as warm and soft as they look. "I don't think I'd have been able to sleep, if it weren't for you, so, you know... thanks."
Then he surprises Peter by leaning in and pressing a quick peck on his lips, before immediately pulling away. He's blushing furiously now, even the tips of his ears are bright red, and he avoids Peter's eyes as he climbs off the bed.
Peter smirks. "Anytime, sweetheart."
Stiles steals a glance at him, his face still prettily flushed, and then clears his throat, turning his attention to his bag and rummaging inside it, as if it's suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
"Yeah, well, Scott's waiting for us, so go get dressed or I'm leaving without you," he says and does his best to keep his eyes away from him - not very successfully - as Peter gets up.
Peter can't help but grin; perhaps agreeing to this wasn't such a bad idea, after all.