#mar sorry for the delayyyyyyyy!

[sharktofu]

yours to tame [peter/stiles]

The sweetest @bxdcubes​ prompted me with:

“How about: "I didn't know where to go" and Person A knocking late at Person B's door. Ship of your choice :D”

My ship of choice is of course Steter, because... Yeah, I cannot leave. Hope you will enjoy, dear heart!

Read here on AO3 or under the cut!

It’s been a few years since Stiles even thought about anyone from Beacon Hills. 

Even his own father doesn’t cross his mind often - all the memories are tinted with a bittersweet taste of betrayal. 

Stiles doesn’t think of his father or anyone from his childhood - no, that’s not true. He sometimes talks with Kira and Cora - they both settled down somewhere near the river in the forest, happy and carefree, and together.

Love is a beautiful look on them. 

He sometimes hears from Chris, who lost Isaac somewhere along the years. Stiles didn’t care and didn’t ask, still doesn’t. It’s always Chris reaching out, cajoling out answers and promises of taking care of himself from Stiles. Caring.

He doesn’t know why the older man cares so much, but it feels nice. Even if still heavy with misplaced guilt. 

The point is, Stiles has made a clear cut between his life before (Beacon Hills and ruin, and pain, and death, and I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…) and after (evening calls with Chris and once-a-month brunches with Cora and Kira).

The point is, Stiles built a life. He dragged himself from hell and rebuilt himself into a man that he could proudly show off. 

He doesn’t need his past knocking at his door in the middle of the night. 

Too bad that Peter Hale never did anything that Stiles expected. 

To be honest, Peter doesn’t actually manage to knock on the door before they’re thrown wide open.

Stiles’ wards (take that Deaton, you piece of enigmatic shit!) warned him some time before of someone approaching - he’s warded the area of his cozy, little house to hell and back with different ‘sensitivity’ levels in different distances from the center of his home. 

He knows when someone is just passing through and when it’s someone unfamiliar. 

He infused some of his memories of people in the wards (there’s a reason he's not afraid of Scott ever coming over) and they recognized Peter. 

Stiles wants to laugh - loud and hysterical, just like him - as his wards don’t recognize him as a threat. 

Looking at the man in front of him - haggard and dirty, clearly exhausted and on the run - Stiles still understands, knows he’s a threat. 

Just maybe not to him.

“I’m…” Peter doesn’t even blink, unfazed by how Stiles knew he was there. 

For all Stiles is aware, Peter probably knows everything about him. Keeping tabs. 

“Hello, Peter,” Stiles leans on his wooden bat - one of many beautifully created weapons that he infused with a mix of wolfsbane and mistletoe, spells carved in the base - and smiles widely. 

Peter eyes the weapon - admires the magically preserved calla lilies braided around the wood, intertwined with too sharp barbed wire - and something like pride flickers in his eyes. 

“I had nowhere to go,” he says after a beat of silence, gaze steady as he talks to Stiles. He doesn’t submit, but he shows his respect. It doesn’t get Stiles, not at all. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

Stiles looks at him and makes himself really look. He dismisses the proud tilt of Peter’s head and the nervous tick in his jaw. 

He takes in the shadows under his eyes and the weariness that comes only with many sleepless nights. He takes in the worn out clothes and shoes - they’re far from stylish or even comfortable. They’re practical, probably grabbed from someone and not chosen with Peter in mind. 

Stiles makes himself really see Peter and decides. 

“You shouldn’t know where to go, actually,” he watches as Peter’s eyes flick to the left - a small tell of shame? worry? something that Peter lets him see. “Did Chris rat me out?”

Another emotion passes through Hale’s face - this one quicker, darker, possessive. 

“Cora, actually. She mellowed out.”

“Kira has that effect on her,” Stiles nods and waits. 

Peter runs a hand through his short, dirty hair and grimaces. He looks like he doesn’t know how to proceed and Stiles remembers the determined expression in his crazy eyes from years before. 

Oh, how they broke you.

“Come in,” he says finally, when Peter struggles for words

Stiles expected a monologue, how lucky he was that Peter found him and can share his expertise. 

He didn’t expect another broken soul - so, so similar. 

“Let me help,” Stiles offers and it’s… stupid and dangerous, and his self-preservation instinct screams at him for being so naive. For letting himself get sucked in this again. 

He’s always had a weakness for broken things. 

Peter fits his collection to a tee. 

(Later, Peter will ask why Stiles let him in. 

“I was looking in the mirror,” Stiles will answer him, a whisper only between the two of them. Caught dangerously between them. 

Peter will shiver against Stiles, pressed between an armrest and Stiles’ body. He will lean against the younger man and let himself relax. Stiles will run his fingers through Peter’s hair - now wet, and clean, and soft - and let his hand slide towards the other man’s neck. He will watch Peter and wait for his move. 

Peter will smirk - a soft, cherished wisp of a smile - against Stiles’ skin and burrow himself closer. Burrow himself deeper in Stiles’ heart like he never left, like they haven’t had years between them. 

“I missed you, clever boy,” Peter will whisper back and something heavy will lift from Stiles’ chest.

Later, Stiles will stand in front of Peter in all his dangerous glory, at the edge of his their territory. He will shield Peter from them - his body a perfect and enough protection - and watch the hunters writhe on the ground. 

He will feel Peter’s hands on his waist - heavy and possessive, and branding - and his kiss on the back of his neck - soft and sweet, and shy. 

Later, Stiles will watch the bodies of his Peter’s enemies disappear in the mud, taken by hungry vines and even hungrier spirits, and he will wonder if he’s being used again.

Later, Stiles will watch Peter and wait, and wait for the other shoe to drop. He will wait for Peter to get bored, get confirmation that he’s now safe, no longer hunted. He will wait for Peter to grab his stuff and disappear into the night - dramatic and typical Peter. 

Stiles will wait for all of it for a month, two. After three, he just gets a reminder. 

After nine months, Peter will drag him outside on the porch. After nine months, Peter will drop to his knees and present Stiles with an enchanted bracelet with pressed lilies of the valley. 

The calla lilies in Stiles’ - and Peter’s - garden will bloom. 

Later.)

#g's writing #steter fic #peterstiles #stilespeter #teen wolf fic #mar sorry for the delayyyyyyyy! #bxdcubes