Chapter Text
It surprises Stiles how easy it is to get used to the red and purple marks Ennis likes to leave on his skin. At first, it sends him into a complete panic fit, during which he bundles himself up like a nine-year-old’s rendition of a ninja warrior and drives to Walgreen’s to buy three different types (and shades) of foundation and a handful of concealers.
His dad takes one good look at him over the breakfast table and snorts into his coffee. “Kid, I love you, but you look like an Oompa Loompa. If you need to slather on that much makeup to cover up a hickey, at least make sure it’s the right color.”
So Stiles learns a valuable life lesson, and Ennis gets a laugh when he whines into the phone about it later. He agrees to leave the marks lower next time, and Stiles is too busy whimpering to argue. After that, things settle down.
For the next few weeks they play video games and skype chat. They text all the time. Stiles can’t help the warm glow of spiteful glee when Scott bitches and moans about his relationship interfering with their summer gaming schedule. It’s about time for Scott to experience the wonders of fifth wheel-dom. If Stiles can take the inclusion of Kira into bro-time, then Scott can handle Ennis (and sometimes the twins) headshotting him with child-like glee.
Stiles introduces Ennis to the combined wonder and frustration that is Don’t Starve. His boyfriend (Stiles actually gets to call someone that) comes over for dinners and movies and undertakes a completely unsubtle campaign of wooing both Stilinski men with baked goods. Occasionally, they even venture into the great outdoors for walks in the park and games of laser tag, which Ennis dominates at. (It’s probably a little unfair to bring a werewolf, but that jerkass twelve-year-old they whoop totally deserves it.)
They eat a lot of custard. The manager has taken to cooing over them and offering them free “samples”. It’s kind of weird that someone is a fan of his relationship, but Stiles is never going to say no to free food. He wasn’t born yesterday.
Once, Stiles manages to stutter his way through an invitation for Ennis to join him for lunch and a “nerd thing”. The nearby college is holding a lecture on detecting lies in everyday human conversation which is totally in his wheelhouse. So he’s on pins and needles the entire time wondering if Ennis is even interested in the subject, as he possesses the instincts to render it irrelevant, but the Alpha just smiles and slings an arm around him. They sit like that for the entire ninety minutes, even after the man’s arm would have gone numb if he were human. It’s probably the sweetest thing Ennis has done, and it seems like he’s just gotten started.
It makes Stiles’ face heat up and his stomach swoop uncomfortably when he remembers the way his Alpha looks and sounds when promising to spoil him. Which is nothing compared to the terror and elation at the thought of meeting the combined Blackwood-Hale packs.
Things between them are going well enough that it’s only a matter of time before they schedule an official meet and greet. Running into an impeccably dressed Peter Hale in the middle of the snack aisle isn’t quite how he envisions it happening. He’s standing on his tiptoes reaching for a gigantic plastic gummy bear filled with smaller, lesser gummy bears when the man says, “Boop” and pokes him square in the lower back.
The result is a high-pitched yelp and the first—and likely last—Flight of the Plastic Gummy Bear. By sheer luck, it lands safely in another cart, piloted by a harassed-looking, sandy blonde man who’s wearing sunglasses indoors. “Peter, what did we say about harassing third parties?”
Peter waves his hand dismissively. “Some heartfelt nonsense about not wanting to share. Which is why this one is mine.” He slings an arm over Stiles’ shoulders. "Stiles, this is Deucalion, my mate. Deucalion, this is the actual perfect child. I want five of him."
Deucalion peers at Stiles over the tops of his designer sunglasses. “Darling, he looks petrified.”
“Everyone should be terrified of me, but I’d never hurt Stiles—which he knows. And completely beside the point.”
“What’s the point?” Stiles asks, going to retrieve his prize from the other man’s basket. He pauses to look up and wave politely. “Hi. Can I…?”
“By all means. Deucalion Blackwood.”
“Yeah, I mean I’ve heard all about you…” Stiles scrounges the plastic container out of a heap of chocolate sauce and whipped cream containers and other innocent vegetables that he feels sincerely sorry for. Ennis has told him too much, and now his mind is blown. It was one, wholly unnecessary, thing for him to know the detailed sexual preferences of someone who used to give him piggyback rides. But all those anecdotes of kinky sex games did not prepare him for an Alpha who wears dad sweaters and sunglasses.
“There can’t be two young men in Beacon Hills with such a distinctive moniker. You must be Peter’s and Ennis’ Stiles. I’ve heard so much that I feel I already know.”
“They talk about me?” Stiles squeaks, then straightens up. “I mean, yes! Of course. It’s totally natural for Ennis to talk about me, his awesome boyfriend. Because we are dating now. A lot. All of the dating.”
“So of course you’ll be coming to the barbecue this weekend.”
“The what now?”
“Suburban tribal rite largely focused on serving quantities of meat and making insincere small talk with neighbors. Occasionally we do a bit of hunting as well. The meat—not the neighbors.” The grin on Peter’s face doesn’t seem entirely reassuring.
“You didn’t get any less terrifying, did you?”
“Not at all.” The grin softens a little. “You’re so tall now. Taller than me.”
“You’re just mad you can’t use my head as an armrest anymore.”
“Oh, absolutely.” Peter reaches out and pinches him in the side, right in the spot that still makes him go all jelly-limbed and laugh like a hyena. The Elder Gummy falls to the floor, and he stares at it for a moment.
Peter rolls his eyes and picks it up before depositing it in Stiles’ cart. “Does your father know you’re buying this thing? I feel like he wouldn’t want you buying a bear-shaped sugar bomb.”
“Only because he’s not allowed to eat any. He’s getting plenty of contraband from Ennis. They think I don’t know, which is cute, since he’s getting a gym membership for Christmas. Laney Finstock told me she’ll be his gym buddy.”
“But you won’t be punishing Ennis?”
“He does the kicked puppy face.”
Peter snorts. “Oh, I know the one. You’re too nice to him.”
“What, I should spend an entire day ruining Guild Wars 2?”
“He was bad at it. I helped.”
Deucalion coughs, and Stiles points at him. “See! He gets it!”
“Not if he agrees with you, he doesn’t.” Peter frowns, but he doesn’t seem particularly committed to his disapproval. “I’m sure Ennis didn’t waste any time getting you to kiss his boo boos.”
“He gave me food and snuggles. It was a fair exchange.”
“Hmm. Snuggles, you say.” Peter raises his eyebrows in a way that implies all manner of salacious activity. “Sounds like it’s getting serious between you two… so of course you’ll be joining him for tomorrow’s party.”
“He… well, I wouldn’t say that I’ve been invited exactly. Not in the normal way you invite your significant other to meet the pack for the first time. More like, we avoided mentioning it at all.”
“Then it’s a good thing I just did, isn’t it?”
Deucalion and Peter aim identical, toothy smiles at him. It’s probably supposed to be some kind of comforting or encouraging.
It’s really, really not.
“Yeah.” A sickly grin stretches across his face. “Sure. I’ll be there and not square.”
“Excellent. I’ll have Ennis give you the details. It’s a potluck, but you don’t actually need to bring anything. There should be more than enough food.”
Now that it’s all settled, Peter beams up at him—which is still super surreal. He remembers looking up to Peter, literally and figuratively. Peter seemed so tall and grown-up. Larger than life. That’s always how he thought of Peter, and now Stiles is the tall one and almost an adult too. But regardless of anyone’s height or age, he can’t let that go unchallenged. “Nice try,” he scoffs. “I can’t just show up with nothing like some kind of freeloader.” Stiles tries smiling again. This time it comes out more naturally. “What about those cookies you like? I’ll even save some specially for you.”
“Well, I can’t refuse an offer like that.” Peter reaches up and ruffles his hair with a wistful look on his face. “It really has been too long since we’ve talked, but I was busy. Perhaps for too long. I look forward to seeing you.”
“Yeah,” he mutters. “Me too, Peter.” His chest feels all tight now that it’s clear Peter is still his friend. Somehow scary, take-no-prisoners Peter Hale still cares about weird, little Stiles Stilinski, so he gives in to impulse. He steps forward and throws his arms around Peter, just clings to the man as Deucalion and The Elder Gummy witness their grand reunion. For a second, he wonders if this is a bad idea, or if Peter’s going to leave him hanging, but then Peter hugs him back. He pets the back of Stiles’ head like he used to do, and it’s different from when Stiles was a kid. He used to be tiny enough to feel wrapped up and dwarfed when they hugged. But Peter’s shirt is just as soft as they always were, and it’s nice to press his face into Peter’s neck and feel a little like he may have one of his earliest friends back.
Stiles is the first to step back from the hug. He laughs and adjusts his collar, rubs the back of his neck to tamp down the sudden anxiety. He studiously ignores Deucalion. Stiles has zero interest in knowing what the Alpha thinks about him hugging it out with Peter (aka said Alpha’s mate) while they were just trying to buy some groceries.
“So…” he drags it out, lets the air whistle between his teeth in a way that he knows is at least fifty percent obnoxious. “I guess I missed your stupid face. Even though you were always getting me in trouble.” His nose wrinkles up, and Stiles sticks his tongue out a little before he can stop himself.
Peter smirks, and it should be mean, but there’s something about it that’s missing the sharp edges. “Troublemakers have more fun, and I never heard any complaints from you before.” He pats Stiles on the shoulder and returns to perusing snack options for who knows what unholy purpose. Stiles doesn’t want to know what Peter’s planning to do with pretzel sticks.
He’s braced for what will probably be the discomfort cherry on the entire awkward cake this meeting has been, when Deucalion takes the two steps over into his space. “It was good to finally meet you, Stiles. I’d like anyone who makes our Ennis so happy, but Peter cares for you very much.” When the man offers his hand, Stiles can do nothing but take it. He shakes it in a daze. “Anyone held in such high esteem by my mate deserves my friendship.”
“Of course, dude. Yeah. Right back atcha.” He barely manages to hold back his wince. Dude? Right back atcha? What is medically wrong with him right now? Awkwardness and emotional constipation don’t count. “I mean. Peter’s… he’s really great and stuff. Terrifying, but you already know that.”
After that eloquent assertion, he flops onto his cart handle and nearly has a heart attack when the whole cart tries to escape from under him. Stiles darts a glance over at Peter’s amused face. Traitor. Where’s that high esteem now?
Deucalion seems touched by Stiles’ admission. He lifts his sunglasses to reveal grey-blue eyes and smiles. This time, it’s not intimidating at all. It’s a conspiratorial, boyish grin, like he’s about to share some great secret. He leans forward and murmurs, “I know precisely what you mean.”
Then with a nod and another smile, he runs his hand over the top of Stiles’ head, over his jaw, and down his left arm. It doesn’t take any longer than a few seconds before Deucalion steps away and carries on with his shopping as though he didn’t just scent mark Stiles like they have a close, platonic bond.
Just as Stiles starts pushing his cart towards the next aisle, Peter chooses that moment to call back, “See you later, little brother.”
And if that makes him flail and crash into the end cap, then no one can blame him. Amidst apologies and fallen Pringles cans, Stiles can’t deny being pleased and embarrassed. Peter didn’t forget his stupid promise to a little kid. Maybe blood brothers really are forever.
Much later, after Stiles is home and the groceries put in their proper place, he settles in bed with the Elder Gummy and his phone. He starts and deletes several texts before settling on:
What time is the bbq?
Technically all day, but most of the food won’t be out until lunch time. Why?
It’s a funny story. But I think Peter will come to my house and drag me there if I don’t show up.
He seemed too happy after the grocery store. The twins thought it was just the whipped cream.
First. That’s gross. Second. Are you okay with me being there? I know it’s sort of a pack thing. It’s okay if you’re not.
Stiles watches the dots at the bottom of his screen, waiting for Ennis’ reply. It takes so long that he starts to worry that maybe his boyfriend wasn’t ready for the declaration that comes along with having someone meet the pack.
He almost knocks over his gummies when his phone blasts Best Song Ever at max volume.
“Holy shit! You almost gave me a heart attack,” he gasps.
“Sorry.” Ennis chuckles. “I kept trying to come up with a way to say what I wanted without sounding creepy or too distant or just not enough. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing and have you misunderstand.
“So why don’t you just say it? Even if it’s wrong. I do that all the time. They don’t call me Stiles ‘foot-in-mouth’ Stilinski for nothing.”
“Baby, no one calls you that.”
“You don’t know my life! They totally could when you’re not around.”
“Stiles…” Ennis huffs. “I’m trying to be serious here.”
“Okay okay. Lay it on me.” Stiles braces for something unpleasant. Anything that requires this much thought can’t be nice or good. Oh god. What if Ennis wants to break up? Shit. He sucks in a noisy breath and holds it.
“I know it’s a pack thing, but that’s why I want you there. Because I do want that with you. I just don’t want you to feel pressured to reciprocate or overwhelmed.”
Stiles’ breath almost explodes out of him. “What?” he squeaks. That is not what he expected at all. “You really… you really think of me like that? Like we could be something. Long term.”
“Yeah, Stiles,” Ennis murmurs. “I really do.”
“Oh thank fuck. Me too.” He curls up with his pillow, finally able to relax. “I mean, I know I’m all kinds of awesome, but I was kinda starting to worry you didn’t want me there. You don’t even want to know how many gummies died for my stress. The Elder Gummy is quite displeased that I’ve eaten so many of its children.”
“The… Elder Gummy? Do I even want to know?”
“Probably not, but I’ll tell you anyway. Later.”
“Whatever you say, baby.”
“But before story time! You said the party runs all day. Does that mean I need to wake up in the morning for this thing?”
“I’ll be there at eleven.” In response to Stiles’ wordless whining, Ennis sighs. “Yes, Stiles. Eleven in the morning. Be glad that no one expects you there for the morning food prep. We have to kill it before you get to eat it.”
“Ugh.” He rolls over to bury his face in the pillow, his phone a hard lump under his cheek. “I wouldn’t do this for just anyone you know,” he grumbles into his pillow. “I must like you or some shit.”
Ennis kisses at him over the phone. “I know.”
“Oh no. You did not just Han Solo me, mister.” Stiles grins into the pillowcase, feeling warm and gooey inside. He really does have the best boyfriend ever.