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Peter had always been a creature of instinct, but today his senses were on high alert for a different reason. As he stepped into the bedroom he shared with Stiles, he was immediately struck by the palpable energy in the air. It was as if the room itself was holding its breath, a symptom of the magical imbalance caused by Stiles’ illness.
His eyes quickly scanned the room, taking in the sight of various objects—books, a lamp, Stiles’ lacrosse gear—floating aimlessly in the air. It was a surreal tableau, like something out of a fantasy novel, but Peter knew it was a manifestation of Stiles’ Spark going haywire due to his weakened state.
Nestled amidst the chaos was Stiles, curled up on their bed, his body wrapped tightly in a blanket as if seeking refuge from his own powers. His face was flushed, a clear sign of the fever that had been plaguing him, and his eyes were glassy but filled with a vulnerability that tugged at Peter’s heartstrings.
“Hey, Daddy,” Stiles greeted softly, his voice tinged with a vulnerability that he only ever showed in this regressed state.
“Hello, little one,” Peter replied, his voice deliberately soft to offer comfort. “I see your Spark is putting on a bit of a show.”
Stiles’ eyes widened as he looked around the room, seemingly noticing the floating objects for the first time. “Oh. That’s not supposed to happen, is it?”
Peter chuckled, a warm, affectionate sound that seemed to cut through the tension in the room. “No, it’s not. But don’t worry, we’ll get it under control.”
Reaching for a coloring book and a set of crayons that he had stashed in the bedside table for moments like this, Peter handed them to Stiles. “How about some coloring? It’s a good way to focus your mind and your Spark.”
The effect was almost immediate. As Stiles picked up a crayon and began to color, his entire demeanor changed. His shoulders relaxed, his breathing became more even, and most importantly, the objects that had been floating around the room began to slowly descend, as if guided by an invisible hand. It was a testament to the power of simple, mindful activities to bring balance, both emotional and magical.
After about half an hour, Stiles set the crayon down and let out a soft yawn, his body language signaling his need for a different kind of comfort. “Daddy, can we cuddle now?”
Peter felt his heart swell with love and affection. “Of course, sweetheart. Come here.”
Setting the coloring book and crayons aside, Peter climbed into bed beside Stiles, pulling him into a warm embrace. Stiles nestled against him, his body molding to Peter’s as if finding its perfect fit.
“Feeling a bit better, little one?” Peter asked, his fingers gently carding through Stiles’ hair, offering another layer of comfort and sensory focus.
Stiles nodded, his eyes fluttering closed as he let out a contented sigh. “Much better, Daddy. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Stiles,” Peter whispered, pressing a tender kiss to Stiles’ forehead. “Anything for you.”