Up To No Good

"No," Peter said, standing in his doorway, half asleep, staring at the frustratingly awake annoyance in front of him.

"One, you don't even know why I'm here yet, two, we could play the 'Stiles. I don't care what the reason is, get out' 'Nah, it's a pretty good reason and you'll like it' game or we could skip the theatrics and get to the point. I have like ten energy drinks and a bottle of adderall in my backpack so we can skip the whole you being a monster in the morning bit too." Stiles tried to first shoulder his way past Peter, then when that failed, attempted to maneuver his way under Peter's arms.

"Stiles, I don't care what the reason is, get out."

"By being difficult you realize you're just prolonging this, right?" Stiles gave up on trying to get under Peter and pulled off his backpack to rummage around it and pull out a Java Monster and a bottle of adderall that absolutely wasn't from the pharmacy. "Peace offering, take this shit and stop acting like ten o'clock is ungodly early."

"I was up until seven."

Stiles made a face. "What the fuck do you even do? I know you're unemployed but Jesus."

"I'm not unemployed, I'm an investor." Peter attempted to shut the door on Stiles, but Stiles wedged his way between the door and the frame.

"Wow, what a perfect segue into my business pitch." The last word was followed by a pained wheeze as Peter tried to force the door shut on Stiles. "Dude, seriously, stop being a bitch and let me in, I know you sell supernatural shit and I found something nuts."

"Give me the fucking adderall, you better not be wasting my time." Peter released the pressure of the door and Stiles nearly fell on his face as he was freed from his particle board prison.

Stiles handed Peter the bottle of adderall and the energy drink and watched in horror as Peter shook out about half the bottle and swallowed it dry before cracking open the Monster and chugging it.

"Dude, what the fuck? That was like sixty bucks you just wasted. Christ, I thought you were going to take like four pills."

"What did you find?" Peter asked, ignoring Stiles' indignation as he slid the bottle of pills into his back pocket.

"Give me my— ugh, whatever." Stiles rolled his eyes and flopped down onto Peter's couch, shoes still on in a small, petty form of revenge. "Basic summary; I keep an eye on people interested in the supernatural who show too much of an interest in Beacon Hills. Some fucker with too much money is a collector of supernatural things and he's been poking around forums and whatnot about Nemetons. Apparently he found out about the Nemeton here, specifically the little jar that's gay baby jail for the Nogitstune. I have a vested interest in making sure that the dude doesn't get his hands on that because he seems like a fucking moron and I don't want to deal with the revenge of the fly."

"Too much detail for a brief summary, next time skip your backstory because I don't care," Peter said. He reached into Stiles' backpack and grabbed a few more Monsters before he sat down. "You want me to kill this man, then I can steal his shit and sell it?"

"I mean, I wasn't going to say kill —"

Peter raised a finger and cut Stiles off, "If you wanted someone to nicely talk to him or just incapacitate him you would have asked Argent or your best friend for help. You came to me which means you want him dead." He cracked the top of a can of Monster as he leaned forward and stared at Stiles, eyes dark. "You don't have to lie to me, Stiles. You take care of threats, I respect it. You don't have the stomach to bloody your own hands, your reaction to Donovan proved that enough, but you still recognize when someone's too much of a danger to be allowed to live."