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Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. A welcome pause. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap-
“Chris?”
The tapping stopped.
“Yes?”
“Should we lose Stiles, or should Stiles lose his phone?”
Chris rolled onto his side to face Peter. Stiles face was illuminated with a white electronic glow between them. The boy made a disgruntled noise and with a final tap the light faded to nothingness. “Sorry.”
“Play with your phone if you want, but take it outside.”
“But I'm so comfortable,” he whined as he nestled pointedly underneath the blanket.
“I'm not,” Chris muttered. He'd been forced onto the very edge of the bed. “You know this is my bed, right? I could kick both of you out at any time.”
“But you won't,” Stiles snarked. He nuzzled Chris' stubble and flipped over onto his side to face him. “Sorry if I'm bothering you.” In the darkness it was hard to make out his young face.
Chris sighed. “What were you doing anyways?”
“Covering for you,” he said. “Scott wanted to know why I wasn't at my house.”
Peters side of the bed shifted.
“What'd you tell him?” the wolf asked.
“That I was 'researching' again. He wanted to know what, I said wendigos, he asked why, and that's when I was forced to shut off my phone.”
“Well that sounds like something you should respond too,” Chris said with a groan. “The last thing I need right now is Scott showing up at my house. He's a good kid but there's already two too many rambunctious teenagers in this home.”
Stiles chuckled.
“Is that the only reason you don't want him here?” Peter asked, his voice was less amused.
“What are you really asking, Peter?”
“Nothing, but would you be upset if someone else showed up and caught us here?” His tone was light but in a telling way. The wolf leaned over, resting his head on Stiles shoulder.
“To reiterate, you want to know if I'd be bothered if someone caught you, me, and Stiles in the same bed? Is that right?”
Stiles body tensed between them.
“Well, would you?” He could feel the two pairs of eyes staring at him in the dark.
“Of course he wouldn't, right Chris?” Stiles asked, the worry in his question unnerved Chris more than he would have liked to admit.
“I would feel . . . conflicted.”
Stiles cringed. The humans head moved back, whether consciously or subconsciously so that they were no longer touching. Once more Peters side of the bed shifted. His eyes glowed blue just above where Stiles head would have rested.
“Why?” he demanded to know.
“Well, for one Stiles is a teenager in the same grade as my daughter. Two, his father is the sheriff. Third, the pack already suspects somethings going on between us and I can tell they're just bursting with questions and lectures, and the inevitable 'don't hurt him or we'll eat you,' talk.”
“So, in essence-” Peter tilted his head to the side “-it's all Stiles fault?”
Chris sighed and sat up. “Well, now I'm not going to get any sleep.” He reached over and turned the lamp on.
The resulting blast of illumination made Peter and Stiles wince and cover their eyes. Stiles adjusted faster, but Peter hissed and hid his face in the blanket. “Warn people first,” he scolded.
Stiles sat up and rubbed his eyes, his phone still clenched in one hand.
“Do you want me to leave?” he asked quietly when he pulled his arm back from his face. “I didn't realize I was bothering you?” there was a faint tremor in his words as they left his mouth. He worried his lip as he always did when he was feeling anxious.
“Oh god no,” Chris said. “I didn't mean it like that. Hey, look at me.” He turned Stiles chin up with his finger and stared down into his brown eyes, so soft and gentile by birth, but clever and brilliant by nature. His dark brows angled upwards in concern.
“Peters putting stupid thoughts in your head. Again. You don't bother me. I like having you here, honestly.”
“If I'm getting in the way of something I understand. You and Peter are a lot older than I am-”
“Not a lot,” Peter interrupted.
“-and you have a lot more in common. If I'm . . . in the way . . . ?” he let his sentence trail off. His shoulders hunched up protectively. With his fingers still pressed to Stiles chin he could feel the offset beat of his pulse as it raced.
“No,” Chris said firmly. “You aren't getting in the way of anything. Actually, if you weren't here I could barely stand to be in the same room as Peter, let alone the same bed. There's a reason you sleep in the middle,” he said with a light smile. It lifted Stiles spirits, but only a little.
“Then kiss him. If you like having him around, then kiss him,” Peter prodded. He pushed Stiles in the back so the boy was forced to bend forward. Stiles smacked the wolves hand away from him.
“I don't have to do that,” Chris said. “Stiles knows that I care about him. Don't you, Stiles?”
Stiles bit his lip. “. . . . Is there a reason you don't want to kiss me?”
“Oh for- come here.” Chris put his hands on Stiles shoulders and pulled him closer. Stiles eyes widened as their lips met in a chaste kiss. “Happy?” Chris asked when he released him. Stiles blinked, he could see the wheels in his brain grinding to a halt only to reset themselves a moment later. He grinned widely.
“No,” Peter said. “Because now I want a kiss. I feel neglected.”
“Well too bad,” he snapped. “Not after all those thoughts you put in Stiles head. Develop a conscience and you might get one.” He didn't wait for a response before shutting off the lamp and laying down on the bed.
Stiles wiggled closer so that his head rested against his collarbone. “Thank you,” he breathed.
“You're welcome.”
“I was talking to Peter.”
The wolf chuckled. “You're welcome.”
Chris closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Sometimes he forgot he was dealing with two manipulative assholes.
Things were silent for several, blissful minutes, then a soft white bathed the room.
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap tap.