☆ A series of unrelated short fics that can be read in any order and are not related to each other. For the most part, it will be strictly Teen Wolf but there may be others in the future.
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★ Note: ★
So this series is going to be a colle...
"Stupid foolish boy!" Peter snapped as he applied a cool cloth to Stiles's head.
"Stu'id. 'Oolis' 'olf," the boy mumbled. Amber eyes were hazy and unfocused even as they attempted to track the hand holding the cloth. "P'er?" he said as he blinked sluggishly.
Peter growled softly. "What were you thinking?! Foolish, obdurate, frustrating boy! Do you have any idea how stupid you are?"
Stiles let his eyes close and sniffled. "Y'ah. S'ry, P'er."
Now that just wasn't fair. Nope. Peter refused to be—and now those whiskey Bambi eyes were full of tears. That simply wouldn't do, and Peter had to fight to stay angry. "Sorry helps no one. What you did was stupid, and I'll kill you if you ever do anything stupid like that again," he mutters.
"N' y'on't," Stiles said with a very small but dopey smile. "T'kin' 'are o me." His smile grew. "M' P'er 'olf."
Peter rolled his eyes, fighting down the pleased rumble before it could reveal just how much he really liked being called Stiles's wolf.
Long lithe arms sluggishly reached for him, and a better man would have waited to ensure it wasn't pain drain brain talking but well Peter never claimed to be a good man. He got Stiles to drink some water and then slipped behind him on the couch, his arm wrapping around the boy's waist. The soft sigh and scent of contentment were unexpected, but he wasn't complaining.
The pale human fell asleep, and Peter set a timer to wake him in an hour. There was no one around to see him admire the dark eyelashes against pale skin or the pink lips parting slightly with each breath. There was no one to call Peter out on his feelings.
For that, he was exceedingly grateful, because if someone saw the devotion in his eyes, they'd surely try to separate them and well Peter knew it wouldn't end well for whoever tried.
The burns on Stiles's neck and left arm were not as gruesome as Peter's were once upon a time, but he hated the way they marred the pretty pale skin. He had taken as much pain as he could and as Stiles slept, electric blue eyes flickered to crimson red.
Peter wouldn't admit to being afraid because he was Peter Hale and yet as he gazed down at the boy who ran with wolves, he was terrified. He was terrified of what would happen when Stiles woke.
Would Stiles regret this? Would he be angry? Would he take Peter's heart and crush it? Would he laugh? Would he mock Peter? Because the courageous, stupidly brave boy who truly was Peter's perfect match in every way, had the power to break all that is Peter Hale. That was what scared Peter. It would be so easy for Stiles to end him.
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