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The waitress had taken their order and Stiles was somewhat mystified at Peter shaking his head.
"What? Do I have something on my face?" Stiles rubbed at his cheeks.
"No, nothing like that," Peter replied.
"What then?"
"It's just...well, you're still eating like you're a teenager," Peter said gently. "You just turned thirty and you know perfectly well you can't eat all the junk food you used to."
Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's not that bad! It's a burger, fries, and a milkshake," Stiles protested.
"Yes. The double-bacon cheese burger, a side order of curly fries that's in addition to what comes with the burger, and the extra thick chocolate milk shake."
"So?" Stiles patted his still-trim waist. "Not like I do this all the time!"
"And it's a good thing," Peter replied. "But, you're right, you do eat better most of the time."
"That's mostly because you do most of the cooking," Stiles pointed out. "I love everything you make. Just... well... once in a while I like to just eat whatever."
"I understand," Peter said.
Stiles sighed. "Now you're making me feel bad about what I ordered."
"Sorry." Peter did sound apologetic. "Just taking care of you."
"Aww..." Stiles cooed. "That's so sweet!"
"Speaking of sweet..."
The waitress put a tall glass with the milkshake, as well as a tumbler with the excess, in front of Stiles. She asked Peter, "More coffee?"
"Not just yet, thanks," Peter replied.
Stiles unwrapped the straw and stuck it in the glass. He took a long pull of the milkshake and swallowed.
"Ohh... that hit the spot!" Stiles sighed.
Their food came soon after and Stiles dragged fries through his milkshake.
Peter didn't say anything but shook his head.
"Can we stop at my dad's?" Stiles asked when they got back in the Jeep. John and Peter had gotten together and had Stiles' Jeep fully rebuilt and restored as a college graduation present. Stiles had been grateful and speechless.
"Sure," Peter nodded. "We haven't seen your dad since before you went out of town on that job."
"That's what I thought," Stiles replied. Then he said, "Sorry."
"For wha--" Then the stench hit Peter's nose. "Whoa. That is foul."
Stiles giggled.
"That's what you get for eating all those french fries," Peter chided.
"They were curly fries!" Stiles protested. "And they were good."
"Keep telling yourself that," Peter said solemnly. Then he waved his hand in front of his face as Stiles farted again.
When they got to his dad's Stiles got out of the Jeep then stood still for a moment. "One last time," he promised.
"It's just biology," Peter said with a shrug.
"Well, dogs do like to roll in smelly shit," Stiles grinned.
"That joke is older than you are," Peter replied. "Come on."
John was glad to see them and they settled into the living room with a baseball game on the television. John handed out a round of beers and they caught up on their lives.
Stiles smothered a belch and decided he should be polite. He could tell there was at least one more good belch coming. He stood and said, "Be right back." He headed toward the bathroom.
Stiles let a long belch out in the bathroom. He pissed and washed his hands and went back to his seat in the living room.
"What's wrong?" Peter asked.
Stiles looked puzzled. "What?"
"You're rubbing your chest like something is wrong," Peter said.
Stiles looked down and realized he was doing exactly what Peter had said. "Huh. Didn't realize I was doing that."
"What made you do it?" Peter persisted.
Stiles had to think about it for a moment. "It's like... I don't know, not really a pain but it's uncomfortable. Right here." He rubbed the center of his chest.
John gave a laugh. "What did you have for dinner?"
"What?" Stiles was confused.
"Burger, fries, and a milk shake," Peter recounted.
"You went to Annie's, didn't you?" John grinned.
"Yeah... and...??" Stiles drawled.
"Sounds like heartburn," John laughed.
"No!" Stiles protested, aghast. "It can't be!"
Peter shrugged. "'Wolves don't get heartburn," he admitted. "I wouldn't know what it was like."
"The beer on top of the greasy food will make it worse," John nodded.
"I've never felt this way in my entire life!" Stiles exclaimed. "I can eat anything!"
"Not any more, kid," John laughed. "You're getting old and your body is catching up with you."
"Oh! That's horrible!" Stiles protested. Then he rubbed his chest again. "How do I make it go away?"
John got up from his seat. "I have some antacids in the bathroom. That will help." He brought the bottle to the living room. "Take two, that should do it."
Stiles chewed and swallowed the two tablets. He reached for his beer to wash them down.
"Nope," John said, shaking his head. "Water is better."
"You're taking away all my fun," Stiles grumped as he went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.
"Think of it as payback," John said. "For all the years you made me eat healthy meals."
Peter just laughed.