Stiles Stilinski finds out that his parents aren't who he thought they were. After the death of his father, he can no longer stay in Beacon Hills. Everything there reminded him of it. So he took Roscoe and together they embarked on their next advent...
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Stiles's eyes peered open. The first thing he saw was the peacefully sleeping face of his boyfriend. Peter's lips were slightly parted as he snored, a small trickle of drool making its way down his lips. Stiles's smiled at the silly sight, his eyes warming up with undescribable light at the sight of him.
It felt cozy, and it felt like something they could actually have: a future. Domestic life, picnics, adventures, etc. Stiles wanted it all, and he wanted to share it with Peter. He leaned forward and placed a small tender kiss on Pan's forehead, silently thanking him for taking care of him while he was weak.
Peter washed him, dryer him, and clothed him while Stiles was coming down from his acid trip. His body was so out of it that he could barely move his fingers when Peter brought him home. Apparently, stretching your shape into that of a huge nine-tail fox is not good on your physique, immortal or not. Thinking back on how Peter took care of him and nurtured him back to health while he was so weak and vulnerable... it made Stiles's whole body warm up with a feeling that he could only assume was love.
He never thought that he would ever find someone who would love him so much. He never thought that love could bring so much joy and happiness to a person's life. Now he understood all those people who were acting goofy and happy all the time because Stiles himself wanted to jump around the room and do crazy things. His body was simply tingling with electricity. His face muscles weren't listening to him either. Every time he pulled his lips back together, his brain would find some fond memory to smile about. So smile he would, like a madman who escaped a loony bin.
Stiles was happy, and the very thought of how real and palpable his happiness was... it terrified him. He didn't remember a single moment of his life when a new bad guy didn't show up and mess up everything. Would this cycle ever end? This Fiona chick, what if they finally killed her. What's next? Wicked witch? Or maybe Jafar from Aladin?
"You're staring at me and it's starting to become a little bit creepy."
"I thought it was romantic," Stiles pouted.
"Have you seen yourself?" he scoffed. "Whatchu' thinkin' about?"
"Dunno... stuff. I guess... I'm happy."
"Judging by your very unhappy tone I guess that's a bad thing?" Peter stared at him through his half-lidded eyelids, tempted to roll to the side and keep sleeping. It was too early for soul-searching in his opinion. He didn't even have his morning coffee yet for fuck's sake.
"No. It's... amazing. It really is. It's just... I guess I'm worried how long it's gonna last."
Peter didn't say anything. He just looked at Stiles, his eyes full of confusion. "We are immortal, Stiles. Don't tell me you are scared of that bimbo in black."
"No... not me. I mean, we are immortal. The kids, the pack, Emma, Regina... Charmings. They are all human. How many catastrophes are they gonna survive? And even if they do survive, old age will get to them eventually."
