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Peter isn’t sure how he got roped into this. Surely, Stiles has other friends, probably ones who might be interested in being his escape plan when he’s on a date.
But he’s done it a few times and at least he knows the routine. Stiles goes out with someone on first date. He lets Peter know in advance who he’s meeting, where and when. Peter calls him about thirty minutes or so into the date and says whatever he feels like and Stiles either says “Oh no, that’s terrible. Yes, I can come – I’m out with someone, but this is more important.” Or “Sorry, I’m out right now, let me call you later.”
Honestly, it’s the first one more often than the second, and that’s okay with Peter. It makes Peter’s side of the conversation more fun, at least to Peter. The “emergencies” he’s told Stiles about include a volcano, attack of a sasquatch, and headlice. The last one did make Stiles hesitate, but he still told his date, it’s been nice, but I have to go.
As long as Stiles stays on the phone, Peter rambles at him, elaborating on the emergency, updating the number of the dead from lava and how Big Foot was last seen at the local Arby’s getting two roast beef sandwiches and a Jamoca shake. Stream of consciousness stuff.
It’s another date night and he’s home alone. He hates to say ‘as usual,’ but it’s a fact. Derek is with Braeden. Malia and Kira are out someplace. And he’s pretty okay with it, he’s used to it. So, he’ll watch the clock until it’s time to call and in the meantime, he’ll smoke some weed mixed with mistletoe. He’s tried it a couple of times and Derek’s said it helps him sleep, and relaxing is a good idea right now. The full moon is later in the week and he’s a little restless.
Peter puts some music on and takes a couple of hits. It’s good and he chills a bit, ready to play a couple of games on his phone. He finishes a couple of games of Candy Crush and sees it’s time to call Stiles and make sure he hasn’t been kidnapped by Jeffrey Dahmer or something.
He takes another hit on the joint and waits for the phone to be answered. “I have no idea why you insist on going on these dates, if you need an escape route. If you want to be there, why are we doing this?”
“Oh, hey.” Stiles’ voice is quiet, probably the right volume for sitting in a crowded restaurant. “What’s up?”
“Up?” Peter asks, grinning as he exhales and watches the stream of smoke. “Nothing yet, but there could be. You know, sweetheart, you should stop your stupid games and come over. I think you’d look good on your belly in my bed.”
“What?” His voice goes up about an octave, but he’s still talking quietly. “I’m…what?”
“Or riding my cock.” Peter takes another toke and focuses on the glowing red tip. “I’d like to see that. You’ve grown up to be a very attractive man and I can picture you with your head thrown back, and and I’m stroking your cock and –”
“Well, that’s not expected, um, thanks for letting me know. I’ll get right over there.” There’s a pause and Stiles says, “Should be about twenty minutes, see you, bye.”
Peter chuckles and turns up the music, shutting his eyes and melting into the couch. “Saved you from another bad date, I guess. Silly boy.”
He’s almost dozed off when he hears someone in the hallway. It doesn’t sound like his neighbor, Eleanor. She’s usually in and asleep by this hour and besides, she’s barely five feet tall; the footsteps are heavier than that, absolutely a male.
He’s about to get up, when the door opens and he gets a whiff of magic. “Stiles!” he yells over the back of the sofa towards the apartment door. “Guess the date wasn’t as good as you’d hoped for. Sorry about that.”
Stiles stands over him and Peter can hear his heart racing. Peter can see the vein pulsing on his temple and it’s obvious his hands are clasped into fists. “Sweetheart, is something wrong?”
He shuts his eyes, taking a deep breath before he answers. “Are you kidding me, Peter? Are you fucking kidding me? What was with that – that, that…”
Peter stands and stretches, getting a sniff of interest, which is, well, interesting. “What was with what? My call to you, as you requested.” He walks past Stiles towards the kitchen. Maybe it’s psychosomatic, but smoking always gives him the munchies. “Did you get a chance to eat dinner or would you like an omelette? I can make one for us to split and –“
He wasn’t paying attention which must be the only reason Stiles is able to push him against the wall. Stiles presses against him, slotting his leg between Peter’s.
“You asshole, you fucking asshole, if you’re kidding about this, I’ll –” and Peter’s head thunks against the wall as Stiles kisses him. It starts with one mostly polite kiss but Stiles quickly turns it into something else. He kisses down Peter’s jaw and then bites the muscle in his neck. When Peter moans, Stiles growls back. “Bedroom. Bedroom now!” He grabs Peter by the belt and pulls him towards hallway, sure that he’ll recognize Peter’s room when he sees it. Or hopefully, Peter will direct them or –
Stiles stops just outside the door to the laundry room, quickly enough that Peter runs into him. “You want this, right? The kissing and the, what you said on the phone. Just how stoned are you, Peter?”
“I think I can consent to ravishing you, darling. If you’d stop being an annoying boy scout and just drag me to bed. That is your intent, isn’t it?”
Stiles assumes Peter’s trying to look unaffected, like this isn’t some world changing event; at least it will change their worlds. “It is my intent. It’s been my intent for a while. Why do you think I went on so many crappy dates? I was waiting for you to tell me to stop it so we could date.” He puts his hand against Peter’s cheek, watching his gaze soften. Stiles leans in for another slow kiss and shakes his head. “Honestly, Peter. I got so annoyed you with for – for your flirting and then doing nothing with it. People telling me you like me and you want me and you just – just watching me go on dates with people who are obviously not nearly as good as you. Well, I know, not good-good, but good for me. That one time I even went home with the guy, his name was Kevin, and I got to his house –“
Peter can’t keep his eyes from glowing, bright blue in the darkening hallway and he steps away. “You went home with him? You didn’t tell me that – you told me you didn’t go on a second date.”
“I didn’t. Go on a second date or, or sleep with him.” He moves to Peter, wrapping a hand around his neck. “We got an uber, and got halfway to his house and I told the driver to stop, apologized to Kevin and walked home.” He kisses Peter slowly and whispers into his mouth, “I want you. I want you for sex and I want you for dating and maybe I want to live with you and maybe adopt cats with you.”
“Cats?” Peter asks, and it seems like a really good idea. “Maybe, but maybe after. After the sex and dating.”
Stiles pulls Peter down the hallway and lets Peter push him into his bedroom and onto the bed.
“I’m not one hundred percent sure I remember exactly what I suggested on the phone. Maybe you remember or, we can decide as we go along,” Peter suggests.
Stiles’ shirt hits the floor as he’s pulling Peter’s shirt over his head. “You actually had some very good ideas and I’ve got a few ideas that have been tossing around in my head. Oh, and turn off your phone, Peter. Apparently, you can’t be trusted with it.”