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The happy, giggling shrieks echoing around the bedroom pierced sharply at Peter’s enhanced hearing, but he ignored them with the ease of long practice, just as he did the excited wriggling. At just barely two and a half, Adeline may not have fully understood exactly what Halloween was, but she definitely knew that SOMETHING IMPORTANT WAS HAPPENING that meant she got to wear a special fun outfit, and the resultant glee was making her very difficult to deal with. By contrast her twin brother Mikhail was being just a downright delight for Noah, and Peter might have felt a slight bitterness about that if the two of them didn’t make such an obnoxiously adorable picture. He was clearly growing into the absolute spitting image of his husband (and thanks to Melissa so kindly passing along Claudia’s inherited stash, he now had the photos to prove it), and it tended to make Peter completely melt at the most inopportune moments. Such as now.
Letting loose a soft crooning noise from his chest, he finally managed to draw his daughter’s wayward attention, and she looked up at him with a happy little grin. With her chestnut hair and warm hazel eyes, she always reminded him so much of his mother and siblings, just as her older brother and half-sister did (how Malia had then managed to end up such a perfect blend of himself and Noah, he’d never understand; genetics were truly fascinating), but that smile was pure Stilinski. Bright, and cheerful, and annoyingly disarming. He tried to stand firm anyway (it wasn’t very successful.)
“Don’t you give me that innocent look, missy,” he said, pointing mock-reproachfully at her tiny face, “it won’t work. We could have been finished by now if you’d decided to cooperate.” With the same profound unconcern displayed by the rest of his offspring in such moments, Adeline grabbed his finger and started waving it around with another, thankfully quieter, giggle. He felt his shoulders droop with a resigned sigh even as a matching grin snuck out despite himself. Booping her gently on the nose, much to her delight, he used her grip on his finger to try again to weave her arm into the sleeve of her little dinosaur onesie. Shockingly, this attempt succeeded, and he used that momentum to get her other arm into its sleeve and swiftly zipped the little suit up. He was just contemplating whether it was worth trying to get the hood up over her pigtails or just let her loose to run off some energy when a familiar arm slid around his waist.
“Any luck?”, Noah asked wryly, giving their daughter a brief once over. From his secure perch on the Omega’s other arm, Mikhail watched the goings-on with fascination, hazel-blue eyes wide above a contented smile and the tips of his sandy curls peeking out of the edges of his own hood. His tiny fists were clenched tightly in Noah’s shirt even as his Converse-clad feet kicked absently along his father’s ribs.
“I think it’s gone pretty well so far,” Peter replied, perhaps just a touch defensively. And it had, really. She had her shoes and costume (mostly) on, and her hair was not only brushed but neatly done up. He felt a soft kiss against his temple, the hand at his hip giving a brief squeeze.
“I agree. Since we’re mostly ready here, why don’t you go check on the rest of the troops?” The question was murmured casually into his hair, but the alpha wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“We’ll have to see what you’re wearing at some point, you know.” None of them knew what Noah had planned for his costume, not even his husbands. All he would say was that it would still fit the family’s mutually agreed upon Jurassic Park theme (despite heavy lobbying to do it last year for the film’s twentieth anniversary, their heavily pregnant mate had insisted they wait a year.) Peter knew what he and Chris had wanted it to be, but Noah had argued that the shorts for that particular costume were shorter than he felt comfortable wearing in public, especially with elections coming up. Any assertions that the clothing would likely only result in even more votes fell on deaf ears, so they finally resigned themselves to a wary curiosity.
“I know, but I’d hate to spoil the surprise.”
“Uh-huh.” The only response offered to this was a rather sassily raised brow, so he huffed a long-suffering sigh. “Fine. Keep your secrets then. For now.”
“As though I have that many of those with you in the first place,” Noah replied distractedly, gently letting down their wiggling son so he could go join his sister, who had taken advantage of their distraction to make a break for the toys they’d brought. As he straightened up, Peter pulled him into his arms, claiming his lips in a lingering kiss that his husband returned with interest. He felt a contented rumble building up in his chest as muscular arms tightened around him. It was with a deep-seated reluctance that he broke away before things could get too out-of-hand.
“Mmm, very true, I suppose.” With another sigh and a last nuzzle he stepped back and headed for the door. “Very well, I’ll let you finish up and go make sure no one is suffering any last minute wardrobe malfunctions or sugar related breakdowns.”
The twins glanced up from their little electronic gaming pads (no mystery on which sibling those had come from…) to wave.
“T’ank you for d’ help, Daddy!” Adeline shouted with that same bright grin, Mikhail matching it just in time for them to call out a perfectly synchronized “Love you!” And, well, how could he not stop to give them each a last forehead kiss after that? And maybe blow a quick raspberry on their necks to get a few more giggles? He didn’t linger long though, he knew that if he met the expression on Noah’s face that he could just catch from the corner of his eye then he’d never manage to get out of the room. With a last little wave, he let the door close behind him.
He headed for where he could hear most of the family gathered in the front yard, with a brief stop at the mirror in the hallway to double-check his own costume. Allison had spent far too long helping him add a more pronounced curl to his hair; he’d hate to upset her by messing it up before the night even began. Ascertaining that whatever foul-smelling spray she’d applied to it (that was still occasionally making his nostrils itch) was continuing to hold everything in place, he fiddled with his shirt buttons a bit, trying to determine whether he had too many undone or not. He’d been told both by his husbands and his children that he wasn’t allowed to recreate the Sexy Pose until said children had cleared out for the night. However, that didn’t mean he planned to be particularly modest either. The black shirt had been borrowed from Noah, and was just loose enough to give a roguish air, and the sleek black pants Chris had lent him were really doing wonders for his legs. Even if they weren’t specifically intended as such, his inner Alpha practically purred in bliss at wearing such obvious claims from his mates. His spiraling third of their triskele necklace had been moved to a longer, heavier chain for the night to better fit with the costume, trailing just along the edge of his tattoo where it peeked out of his shirt. One hand drifted up absently, fingers following the curving lines he’d carved so long ago. With a last quick preen (he looked damn good and refused to pretend otherwise) he followed the murmur of conversation outside.
The kids not helping Melissa finish up in the kitchen were scattered at the edge of the yard awaiting the rest of the pack’s arrival. Chris was leaning against a post at the edge of the McCall porch, enjoying the surprisingly mild autumn weather and looking far sexier than anyone in pleated khakis and a well-worn denim shirt had any right to. But then Peter was admittedly a bit biased on that front. Stepping up behind his husband, he wrapped his arms around his waist, still soft from where he’d given birth just a few months ago. With a happy hum he buried his face in the nape now so temptingly close, inhaling the familiar scents of gun oil, fresh herbs, and petrichor that always clung to the Omega, still overlaid with the sweet scent of pup. When he realized the piece of fabric serving as a neckerchief had been torn from an old, falling apart shirt of Noah’s, his humming kicked up into a warm rumble. He felt more than heard Chris huff a soft laugh in response.
“Everything go okay in there?” The question was quiet, tone kept low enough to avoid waking the baby sleeping against his chest. With a faint reluctance, Peter shifted to rest his head on his husband’s shoulder instead.
“Everything went perfectly fine, and then I was sent away to maintain the mystique.” He gained another soft laugh for this.
Tilting slightly forward, he lifted a hand and very, very gently ran the back of his finger down his daughter’s cheek. Rosalie looked almost unbearably adorable dressed in a onesie to match the twins’, her carrier decorated to look like a raptor egg. Her hood had fallen back to reveal a downy cap of fluff that was a near match to his own (though her eyes, on the other hand, were shading towards the same silver-tinted blue of her father’s, and secretly Peter rather dearly hoped they stayed that way.) Without giving any sign of waking, one tiny hand came up to grasp assertively at the finger still within reach, grip surprisingly certain and determined. Another ridiculously doting grin slipped onto his face, just as inescapable as the last.
“And here I thought you were meant to be wrapping me around your finger, little one, not the other way around,” he whispered, just as loathe to disturb her slumber.
“You say that as though you aren’t already willing to cater to her slightest whim,” Chris replied wryly.
“She’s not even a year old yet, she doesn’t have whims.” His rejoinder was somewhat muffled as he pressed a kiss just behind that conveniently close ear, enjoying the sleek brush of his husband’s hair against his freshly shaven face.
“But you’re implying that you’d be able to resist if she did?” Chris’ tone was gently teasing, his eyes sparkling as he glanced at the wolf from the side.
“That’s neither here nor there.” After yet another amused snort from his husband, Peter decided that the most reasonable course of action would be to shut him up with a kiss. So he did. Couldn’t risk disturbing Rosalie’s nap, after all.
Low cheering and cat-calls echoed from the lawn as his (okay perhaps no longer technically, but shh, he was still adjusting to the idea) teenage offspring offered a reminder that being an obnoxious little shit was apparently a genetic condition. Refusing to let it distract him from his current, very enjoyable, activities, he allowed the kiss to trail off to a natural stop before turning a patented Hale Look of Judgment on the group.
“Dad! Show some consideration, there are children present!” Malia chided, face set in a remarkably believable neutral expression that Peter knew damned well she’d learned from her father. The way her newly chopped dark blond hair framed her face was only adding to the mock-severity she was doing her utmost to project. Ben laughed brightly from where he was hanging off her back like a particularly exuberant koala.
“’Lia, I’ve seen Dad and Papa kiss before!” With his denim shirt and khaki shorts, his ever-deepening resemblance to Chris was even more apparent. Malia tossed him a conspiratorial grin over her shoulder, her paisley patterned tank top twisting as his grip tightened.
“Oh, don’t worry Bennie, I know. I was talking about Stiles and Allie.”
Both of said siblings squawked in outrage, Allison slapping her lightly on the arm with her clipboard while Stiles shook the severed arm he’d insisted on including with his costume threateningly in her direction (it had been the compromise to keep him from trying to add the mustache.) As he might have anticipated, the only effect that had was causing Ben to giggle even louder.
Sniffing dismissively, Allison went back to pretending to make research notes with greatly exaggerated concentration. Peter had gotten a glimpse at the clipboard earlier, and had found the stack of papers to be a somewhat disquieting mix of partial blueprints for a collapsible crossbow and notes on various recipes to possibly try out for Thanksgiving.
Well. He supposed it might be disquieting in another family, at least. Given the general nature of theirs, the alpha had simply added a couple more recipe suggestions and moved on. He watched as she fought to keep a smile from breaking out, her dimples practically twitching with the need to reveal themselves. With her raven dark hair twisted rather severely back, wire-rimmed ‘glasses’ perched delicately on her nose, she reminded him so very much of Talia when she was in full Lawyer Mode. She was even managing to make a disposable coverall look effortlessly fashionable (he was so proud.)
By contrast, Stiles was having far too much fun swishing his lab coat around, tie flapping wildly with his spins, and waving about his fake appendage, to ever appear particularly collected or put-together (though he was doing an excellent job of entertaining his little brother.) Despite this, it had been clear recently that, much as his father eventually had, he was finally growing into his lanky limbs, a new grace and confidence infusing his movements. Having tamed down his dark hair a bit for once, and with similar fake spectacles highlighting unexpectedly fine-boned features, he and Allie were almost more likely to be mistaken for twins at the moment than he and Malia or she and Jax were.
Speaking of his own near Mini-Me, personality-wise at least.
The door behind them swung open to allow his eldest son to come swanning out like the front porch was his own personal runway. His perfectly fitted khaki shirt and shorts looked photo-shoot ready, the strap of the NERF rifle he’d borrowed after extensive negotiations with Stiles (Chris had refused to lend him a real one for this) slung casually over one shoulder and his safari hat tipped at a rakish angle. Gamboling along in his wake like the overly cheerful puppies they so often reminded him of came Scott and Kira, both carrying trays of snacks. Since the older kids weren’t technically going to be trick-or-treating it had seemed prudent to offer them some sort of sustenance ahead of time in the interest of familial harmony. Once again relishing in the abilities granted by his lycanthropic status, Peter shot one hand out as the pair passed and snagged a handful of the bite-sized treats off of Scott’s tray (which turned out to be his temporarily repurposed shield.) He crammed most of them into his mouth, savoring the delicious blend of chocolate and peanut butter, now given a bit more substance by the addition of puffed rice, fresh honey, and little pretzel stick ‘spider legs’. The teen gave him a slightly bemused grin as he passed, but didn’t otherwise react.
“Who wants snacks?!” Kira called out as they reached the others, holding out her plateful of savory bites. The gloves from her black and white costume (something he hadn’t recognized but that Stiles had lost his mind over; he’d assumed from the yellow ‘X’ badges on it that it was something comics related) had been discarded for the time being, presumably to keep the attached foot long, hopefully plastic, blades out of the way.
“ME! ME! ME!” Ben cried out, making enthusiastic grabby hands at the platter. His daughter on the other hand said nothing, too busy staring at the kitsune smiling brightly at her to react to any number of things, including the way her little brother was doing his unintentional best to choke her out, the way the little cherry tomato and mozzarella ‘jack-o-lanterns’ he was attempting to cram into his mouth with a determination he’d certainly learned from his alpha were dripping onto her shoulder, and the fact that said kitsune was succeeding in feeding her one of the variously colored carved carrot ‘fingers’ with no complaint even as her sister looked on with barely concealed laughter (oh she definitely had it bad.) Peter would be more prone to teasing her about it if he didn’t know for a frequently pointed out fact that that particular smile of dopey happiness was something she had absolutely inherited from him. Her twin meanwhile was pestering his best friend about his choice of dishware.
“I’m just saying Scott, fake or not, I feel like treating vibranium like that is probably a war crime. Also, did you at least clean it first?”
“...Stiles you’re more likely to eat something off the floor than any of the wolves.” Scott’s face was set in that blankly innocent deadpan that Peter could never determine for certain was sincere or not. Partially because he couldn’t decide which option would be more irritation inducing.
“Okay seriously, why is everyone picking on me tonight?” his son demanded waspishly over the sound of Jackson, Allison, and Malia’s amused snorts and Ben’s giggles. His arms crossed assertively over his chest, extra arm dangling from one hand like a ready to be improvised weapon.
“Oh please, Stilinski, as though this is different from any other time?” Jackson sent back with a cocky grin, leaning casually against Scott’s shoulder. The Alpha steadied his stance, serving as a silent support.
“Nobody asked your opinion, Crew-Cut Fabio.”
As Peter tried not to choke on the last bits of his own treat, Scott heaved a long-suffering sigh, and quickly jammed a ‘spider’ into Stiles’ mouth and an ‘eyeball’ into Jackson’s (the latter of whom sent him an irritated eye-flash in response), before turning and walking over to the girls and Ben. Once he finally cleared his airway of any foreign objects, he popped another ‘spider’ in his mouth as he watched his older sons come to a temporary truce in order to help demolish the majority of the trays’ contents. A deep, tingling sort of instinct made him turn his head back to his husband, only to find the Omega’s judgmental glare now turned his direction, one eyebrow arched in silent query.
“You don’t even particularly like these.” His tone was perhaps slightly more defensive than it needed to be. But then, his mates’ somewhat unique ability to make him feel like a teenager again was multi-layered, and not always in his favor.
“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Chris’ tone, by contrast, was perhaps best described as aggressively neutral.
“As it so happens, I do, which is why I also grabbed these,” Peter replied with an affected airiness, pressing one of the morsels still in his hand to the hunter’s not quite frowning lips. With refreshingly little reluctance, he accepted the offering.
His proximity allowed him to see the moment Chris realized that the jelly used to fill the little white chocolate covered peanut butter and oat ‘eyeball’ was made from some of the last of Noah’s strawberry harvest; part of the garden Noah had reluctantly allowed himself and Stiles to be bullied into, mostly by Erica, who liked to make teasing comments about how “weren’t druids supposed to be at one with nature and plants and growing things and shit?” The overall results had been quite the mixed bag (the heirloom tomatoes had been phenomenal, but he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to see another cucumber in his life- they certainly wouldn’t lack for pickles any time soon), but knowing how much Chris enjoyed the fruit he’d been bound and determined to make sure they, at least, succeeded. As so often happened, as soon as the flavor burst across his tongue, those silver-blue eyes flashed with a soft joy, and a tiny little smile flickered onto his face. The alpha couldn’t resist another little peck to his mate’s cheek before passing over the second one. He felt a warm tug at the pack bonds just as a gleeful shout rang out.
“BATMAN!!!”
“CATWOMAN!!!” Stiles began waving wildly (with the fake arm, naturally) at the approaching group, led by an equally exuberant Erica. She rushed ahead to half tackle him in a hug, a swirl of blonde hair and black and purple leather. And probably a fair bit more cleavage than the standard Hawkeye tended to show, but he was certainly no one to judge.
The rest of them wandered up at a far more sedate pace. Side by side, and walking nearly in step, Boyd and Isaac made an unusual but very striking pair of Asgardian princes. Trailing behind them (having most likely been their ride), his nephew could almost be mistaken for not having a costume at all if it weren’t for the admittedly very well made arc reactor glowing through his t-shirt. Though the simplicity of his outfit had allowed him to close up the auto shop by himself tonight so that Malia could leave early to get ready. Melissa’s generous offer of using her house as a staging spot had also been exceptionally helpful since their own was so far away from the more populated neighborhoods.
The newest pack members had eagerly joined in the destruction of anything edible that remained, all of them getting a sticky high-five from Ben in greeting in the process. Erica noticed Kira’s outfit and the two quickly fell into an animated comics discussion that Stiles jumped into with glee, while Malia and Ben listened in with matching expressions of slightly overwhelmed fascination. Boyd, Allison, and Scott had diverged off into an assessment of the comparative qualities of some of their science classes, while Derek was asking Jackson about his recent ethics course. Isaac attempted to join them, but Stiles had grabbed a hold of his wrist and wrapped himself under his arm, fingers absently playing along the details of his sleeve. With a fond sigh, the wolf managed to mostly tuck Stiles under his chin, and began a game with Malia to see whose snarky comment could distract the young druid quicker.
“Oh, my god, really?!” Stiles demanded, quickly catching on. He turned a look of highly exaggerated, Bambi-eyed sadness on his cuddle partner. “Et tu, Brute?”
“Then fall, Caesar,” both antagonists replied in admirable unison, grinning brightly. Without even looking, the druid shot a hand out and poked his twin in the cheek, expertly dodging the snap of her fangs.
“You, I expect this from.” He swung that same finger back to poke Isaac next. “You, however. You’re supposed to be nice to me.”
“Oh am I?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m always very nice to you.” This assertion was accompanied by a shy glance through his lashes that was not only impressive for being accomplished despite his height advantage, but also was absolutely something he had learned from Chris. Peter would have to have a word with his husband. His son seemed to have come to a similar conclusion.
“It’s bad enough you gave me a brother like that,” he called, flapping his extra arm vaguely in Jax’s direction as he sent a glare towards the porch, “but now you’re corrupting him, too?”
“A brother like me?” Ben’s eyes were wide with commendably convincing tears.
“No, not you, Bennie. You’re a delight and we love you,” Stiles hastened to assure his little brother, running a soothing hand along his arm.
“I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, Stiles,” Chris replied in a falsely confused tone, features now set in an exact mirror of Isaac’s. Amused snorts and knowing grins spread across the group, highlighted by Erica’s delighted cackle. Derek was trying so hard to keep his laughter contained that for a moment Peter thought he might choke on his last bit of pretzel.
The flatly unimpressed look this comment had gleaned from it’s target audience was quickly lost beneath a shower of tiny quasi-apologetic kisses along his cheek and ear as Isaac squeezed him in a tight hug. With a long-suffering sigh Stiles subsided, sinking into the embrace and trading his spare limb for the toy scepter the wolf was carrying. Isaac accepted this switch without complaint, idly twirling the arm in some lazy practice swings. (Peter was also quite sure the druid would end up wearing the golden helmet by the time the evening was over, too. They were both frankly far too skilled at puppy eyes.)
“What are we all laughing about and why do I feel like it’s Stiles?” Lydia’s voice echoed from over Peter’s shoulder as she came sweeping out of the house with a level of poise that even Jackson was mildly envious of. Professionally tailored black leather clung to every curve, and he would bet even money that there were real weapons in her bracers, courtesy of his daughter.
“I don’t know, maybe because everyone just loves to gang up on me for some reason?” came the flippant reply.
Looping an arm loosely around Allison’s as she joined the cluster in the yard, the banshee rolled her elegantly made-up eyes and tossed her sleek strawberry blond braid over her shoulder.
“You know very well that if you weren’t so easy to get a reaction out of, they wouldn’t do it quite so often?”
“That’s entirely beside the point.” The combination of narrowed eyes and lingering pout really should have looked more ridiculous, and Peter liked to think that it was his genes that were aiding in curtailing that. Thankfully, Kira distracted him with a story about a comic shop she’d found while visiting Seattle recently with her parents, speculating on the possibility of a road trip in the near future. The murmur of various conversations rose again, and Peter just marveled for a moment at having something like this in his life again. Family. Pack. Happy, healthy, growing. And above all, safe. A gentle kiss to his temple told him that Chris had picked up on his mood, but his mate didn’t say anything.
The soft swish of cotton sheets heralded Mel’s arrival. She leaned against the porch railings on Chris’s other side, white draperies pooling around her. Tugging off the red witch hat perched atop her dark curls, she fanned herself with it, green construction paper mask dangling from her wrist. She’d ended up on call tonight, so a comfortable and easily discarded if necessary costume had been in order.
“Need any help with clean-up?”, Chris asked. Peter doubted it, she’d been refusing every time they’d asked. Which had been often. As well behaved as their kids typically were, they were still a LOT just from sheer numbers, and he and his husbands had already decided to thank her with a spa gift card and several bags of her favorite candy.
“Nah, I went ahead and took care of it just in case, there wasn’t a lot anyway. You should have seen the fallout of Scott’s first visit home. I’m pretty sure he stole clothes from his roommate because not a single piece of his own was still in wearable condition.” Peter just barely choked back a snort, completely unsurprised at this discovery.
“How go your brother’s artistic endeavors?”, he asked. The last time he’d seen Julio, he’d been banished to the back porch to contain the inherent mess of carving pumpkins.
“I’m almost afraid to find out.” Her tone was wry but affectionate. “He’s still out there, and I just hope he’s finished in time for the trick-or-treaters to start showing up. I hadn’t expected him to get quite so into it.”
Julio had decided rather early on that he would be in charge of the McCall home’s jack-o-lanterns, as he had the most (currently) honed knife skills. His sister had given him a VERY pointed eyebrow raise at this pronouncement, but ultimately demurred. Admittedly, the contrast of his expression of intense focus and concentration with the Snoopy onesie and the aviator hat had been quite the entertaining sight, and he rather hoped someone had managed to get a picture or two. Between Erica and Lydia he knew there'd be plenty photos of the kids, at least (he’d already seen a few group selfies occurring, despite Derek and Boyd’s rather halfhearted at best protests.)
From within the house he heard the approaching giggles of the his youngest twins, and an odd whirring sound that he couldn’t quite place.
“Well, looks like we’re about to learn what all the mystery was about,” he announced calmly, determinedly pretending that he wasn’t just as curious as the other two. The trio turned to the door, stepping to the side of the porch just in time for Addie and Mikki to come barreling out at near top speed, little raptor tails swinging wildly, followed closely by Noah.
In an inflatable t-rex suit.
For a moment, Peter was genuinely speechless, which was not a situation he often found himself in. Mel had her face buried in Chris’ shoulder to try and muffle her laughter, while his husband seemed to be cycling through various expressions trying to see which one felt the best fit. The pack reactions ran the gamut from his nephew’s incredulous snort of laughter to Erica’s almost hyena like cackles.
Taking advantage of the adults’ distraction, the twins launched themselves at the assembly in the yard with excited shrieks. Jackson caught Adeline mid-air as she leapt at him, narrowly avoiding a painful collision, and swung her up into his arms with an indulgent “How’s my clever girl?” She wiggled happily and reached up with one hand to play with the brim of his hat.
For his own greetings, Mikhail wrapped himself around Kira’s leg in a full body hug before giving Boyd uppy arms with even more lethal puppy eyes than his older brother could manage. Boyd cheerfully obliged, settling him securely on his shoulders, one pudgy hand on either helmet wing. “Lookin’ good there, Glowworm,” Erica teased him with a warm smile, stretching up to fix his hood where it had slid back. Once settled, both twins began offering their own flailing attempts at high-fives to the rest of the pack. (He wasn’t certain which of his offspring had taught them that, but they had proven big fans of the gesture.)
Peter, meanwhile, finally managed to kick his brain out of the loading screen. He could see the edge of Noah’s smirk through the plastic view panel, and narrowed his eyes in a failing attempt not to laugh, forcing his tone into bland flatness. “I know you think you’re very clever, but mostly I know you’re lucky you’re pretty.”
“I happen to know I’m both, actually, thank you very much,” came the smug reply, only slightly muffled.
Chris had apparently finally settled on bemused acceptance. “I gotta say, I’m not sure exactly WHAT I expected, but it definitely wasn’t this. Where did you even find that?”
“Stiles had me take him by one of those pop-up Halloween stores to look for a couple things, and they had one on display. I couldn’t resist, and swore him to secrecy. Honestly, I’m a little shocked he didn’t spill the beans.”
“Oh, I absolutely wasn’t missing the chance to see their reactions firsthand,” Stiles chimed in from where he was playing tickle monster with Addie.
Wiping the last traces of tears from her eyes, Melissa took a deep breath to try and suppress another bout of laughter. “That is amazing, and I salute you.”
“...Is that the Jurassic Park theme I’m hearing?” Peter reluctantly asked. It was faint, especially over the suit’s fan, and he’d been trying to ignore it, but his curiosity won out.
“Yeah, Danny helped me rig up a little speaker with a belt clip.”
Chris’ shoulders drooped briefly with a sigh. “Of course he did.” Rosalie, on the other hand, had finally been roused by her siblings’ excited yells, and was staring around at everything with a dozy wonder. She gave a bright grin and a happy flail when her eyes landed on Noah’s costume, before getting distracted by the cord of Chris’ triskele piece. The swift and practiced offering of a pacifier kept her from trying to put it in her mouth (again.)
“All right, then,” Allie called from the front edge of the yard, her tone rich with a natural leadership, “now that we have everybody, are we ready to head out?”
“What do you say, Bennie, you ready to get some candy?” Malia asked over her shoulder. He responded with a cheer and a fist pump. “We’re in.”
“All right then. Avengers, assemble!” Scott called with his best attempt at Cap’s air of authority. Stiles looked like he badly wanted to make a comment, but contained himself.
With a pervasive aura of infectious joy they all started off, wandering in a clumping line towards the next house on the block with lights on. Just as they reached the edge of the yard Stiles appeared to finally lose a battle with himself and yelled out “Hold on to your butts!”, which was answered with a mix of groans from the older kids and giggles from the younger.
Gesturing as best he could with the tiny arms of his costume, Noah looked at his husbands. “Well, shall we join them?” As he started past him, Peter caught a glimpse of Noah’s shoulder through the clear panel, covered in a very...distinctive...shade of periwinkle. He shot out one hand and caught at the edge of Noah’s bicep, the parachute-like material raspy under his fingers. Before he could even give breath to his question, Noah raised a rather sassy, in Peter’s opinion anyway, eyebrow, and blithely said, “I told you I wouldn’t wear that outfit in public. I didn’t say anything about in private.”
Peter felt a growl building up in his chest, and he leaned into his mate’s space with no concern for how ridiculous it surely looked. He was unfortunately quickly thwarted by Chris’ hand snaking between them to shift him back a step.
“Later,” the hunter insisted. “We promised to stop traumatizing the kids so often, remember?” Despite his protests, he leaned against Noah’s shoulder, both Omegas throwing him looks through their lashes that severely tested his patience and resolve. Turning his flaring nostrils into a deep, calming breath, Peter very firmly turned his back to them and began walking down the steps towards their wayward horde.
“Very well, then” he agreed. “Later.”
Mel, heavily inured to their dramatics, just rolled her eyes as she slipped inside to grab the bucket of candy for the kids starting to trickle up the sidewalk their way.
“Have fun, you guys. BEHAVE.”
They all sent quick waves as they meandered towards the others, Peter pausing to allow his husbands to pass ahead of him. Resisting the urge to shake his head at the sight of Noah’s tail swaying jauntily back and forth, he threw his shoulders back and put on his best swagger, sliding on the glasses he pulled from his back pocket. After all, there was no reason he couldn’t charm out a few treats along the way to tide him over until he (hopefully) got some different, even better treats tonight. With a grin of anticipation, he followed the echoing sound of his packs laughter down the street.