Work Text:
Normally, Peter ignores the curses that periodically float out of Stiles’ office. He rarely curses over actual research; roadblocks only make him focus more intensely. Swearing means that he’s playing a game, and Peter is hardly in a position to help with that.
But the cursing has been steadily increasing in both volume and tension for an hour now, so Peter finally gets up heads into Stiles’ office. Sure enough, Stiles is bent over the computer. “What’s going on?”
Stiles barely glances at him. “I lost our baby.”
Peter blinks and takes a closer look. Stiles is playing The Sims, and he’s created digital versions of both of them. “Miscarriage is an option in this game?”
“Yeah,” Stiles says absently, “but that’s not what happened. I mean I literally lost the baby somewhere. I put her down and she’s tiny and I can’t find her in this giant house you insisted on having!”
Peter hesitates. On the one hand, Stiles is frustrated and he wants to help. On the other hand, Stiles is already talking like they are their characters. Peter can just see the argument coming if Stiles decided his character’s actions were somehow his fault.
Quietly, he retreats.