Stiles hadn't been surprised about how totally unfazed his dad had looked the day they decided to bring him into the fold and tell him about werewolves and the side quests they were having on keeping their town from supernatural invasions. He supposed the numerous incidents they had to blame gory murders into a case of mountain lion attacks only worked so many times, it made the intelligent ones suspicious.
However, what completely took Stiles off guard was how his dad, Sheriff, abiding citizen and all, had looked sullen and had called in reinforcements just moments after.
Because who knew they still had a couple solid someones from his dad’s distant side of the family? Stiles had very little information about them, with a vague memory of his dad being elusive as hell whenever it came up on rare times.
Needless to say, Stiles now has a cousin-slash-aunt named Sorrel Potter, who was apparently a distinguished war hero of Britain’s Wizarding World and had been living retired in her villa somewhere in far, far Italy until his dad called SOS ASAP.
Stiles had a crash course and inhaled magical studies like how he demolished his milkshakes and curly fries, but with a vigilant eye from the woman herself of course. Stiles was pretty much confident with his skills and talents but it wouldn't matter if he became book food, wouldn't it?
With additional knowledge and his dad completely on the know, everything was running smoothly.
Well... most of the times, he'd admit, because no matter how the brains of their group planned stuff perfectly, they just went sideways sometimes.
It helped that Stiles had all his pent-up knowledge to test his skills and see how far he’d learned. He was basically working with trials and errors, but Sorrel had been cool with him experimenting as long as she was there to supervise. And since Sorrel was there, his dad was essentially okay with everything, and handled the legal reports and documents on his end.
Stiles kept learning and became stronger, manipulating his Spark and making it into something that helped him and his Pack other than his meticulous research skills. He might not be fully qualified for a proper Wizarding education, but he had his own Spark to work with and like Sorrel always said, ‘It’s all about intent.’
He was making shit happen and he was bloody happy with that.
-o-
Stiles was staring at his aunt-slash-cousin, long and wary, before bluntly remarking, “You’re glowing. Why are you glowing?”
Sorrel placed the hot pan of freshly baked cookies on the countertop and raised an eyebrow, sounding acerbic when she drawled, “An astute observation, Stiles, but are you sure you really want to know why?”
With wide eyes, because he just knew it was something nasty and dirty, he cried out, “Nope! Nada! Not in a hundred years!”
“I’m telling you anyway,” Sorrel bulldozed with a menace grin. “It’s because of great, mind-boggling sex. Did you hear that well? Passionate shagging, Stiles. Something you would’ve been having if you’d only grabbed the raging hippogriff by its balls and vocally expressed your undying love to Derek.” She gave him a pointed look. "And you know he'd appreciate some verbal confession of your feelings so he can likewise reciprocate."
Stiles blanched. “Awful! You’re so, so terrible! I don't know why you'd do this to me!” Swiftly jumping out of his seat, he grabbed his share of cooling cookies and with a hasty goodbye, scurried out of her house, her awful, wicked cackles following after him even when he'd slammed her front door close.
Stiles knew he was one nosy, little shit, but there were things better left unsaid, especially when he had a feeling that his aunt-slash-cousin and their resident Creeperwolf were doing the nasty.
Especially when Peter's presence became much more tolerable as of late.
Stiles shuddered, realizing that his good mood was most probably because of the wicked woman inside, and hastily started his Jeep.
So freaking weird.
-o-
“Is there something going on between your uncle and my cousin?”
But Stiles wouldn't be Stiles if he didn’t pry even just a little bit, would he?
Derek sent him a deadpanned look. “Now you’re settling her in as your cousin.”
Stiles reasoned out, “You can’t blame me for being confused as hell, dude, and I’m not even gonna start on the disaster that’s my family tree. Or my dad’s.” He gave a decisive nod right after. “Yeah, I’m blaming it all on my dad this time. But, I mean, she could be an aunt, yeah? A super cool aunt.”
“Stiles, Sorrel and I are the same age. And don’t call me dude.”
“And she’s still much cooler than you. And what did I say about proper punctuations, Der-Bear?”
The silence that followed was deafening and definitely spoke volumes.
“You’re handsomer though―”
“That’s not even a word.”
“―and way more gorgeous with your beard and you look hot with your dark blue Henley today, babe," he purred. "Have I told you, you look hot and dashing today?"
Derek scoffed, fondness apparent on his voice even when he muttered, “You think I’m sexy even when I wear nothing.”
Stiles readily nodded a couple of times, leaning towards the driver’s seat as his hands crept on Derek's thigh, his fingertips so, so close to that delicious bulge between his toned legs. “Especially when you wear nothing.”
Derek let out a growl, probably as a warning but Stiles only thought it only sounded dangerously sexy. “Stiles. Stiles. Stiles. I’m driving. Stop being a menace.”
“You have werewolf reflexes, Derek. That hadn’t stopped us before,” he whined, incessantly pawing at his boyfriend’s jeans now.
“You remember how we got caught by Parrish?” Derek gritted out. "Would you just..."
Stiles groaned, withdrawing his hands and righting himself on his seat. “You’re right. The talk with my dad after that was even more uncomfortable.”
Letting out a deep sigh of relief, Derek rolled his eyes. “Well, thank you for exercising a bit of patience this time.”
“Anytime, lovebug.”
Derek gave him a sideway glance and let out a snort when he noted his pout. He went back to their earlier topic. “But to answer your question, yes. Your cousin and my uncle are sleeping with each other. They aren’t exactly keeping it a secret. Everyone in the Pack knew.” He gave him another side eye. “I thought you knew.”
Stiles squealed as he smacked his arm.
Derek, the ass, shrugged, looking unperturbed. “You knew better than to ask.”
Stiles groaned aloud, disgusted and appalled with himself. "I know. I really had a hunch and I was gonna leave it this time because it's too much information but you know I just can't." He made another sound at the back of his throat and slumped back on his seat. “Is it serious or are they just, you know, playing around?”
Derek sent him a quick do-you-really-want-to-know look.
Yes. Ugh! Yes, Stiles would like to know. Because Sorrel might be tough and could clearly look after herself but she was family. Stiles always thought it was reassuring to know that someone had his back and looking after him. He thought she might feel the same, even when she didn't really need it.
Derek heaved out a sigh. “Uncle Peter said they mutually agreed it’s not...”
“But?” he prodded.
“But with how he’s been flaunting off his scent, you’d think they’ve been living together for so long,” he supplied, flinging him a meaningful look.
“Uh-huh…”
“Sorrel's been masking her scent after I pointed it out, to which I’m completely grateful for because there are things I should not be constantly smelling, Stiles, but Uncle Peter’s a fucking prick,” Derek grumbled, his eyebrows creasing. “He shows up at the loft smelling like he just had dirty sex all night long and it irritates the fuck out of me.”
“Way too much information,” Stiles interrupted with a whine. “But I can see where you’re going.”
“Because believe me, I am this close..." Derek was pinching his forefinger and thumb together, space in between completely non-existent. "...this close to just live in a tent in the middle of the Preserve so I won't have to keep smelling him. I don’t even know why he spends most of his time at the loft when he’s not at your cousin’s. You'd think he didn't have his own house.”
“You can stay in my house anytime you want, babe,” Stiles consoled as he caressed Derek’s arm, weakly adding, "But maybe he also wanted to spend time with you."
His Sourwolf gave him a dubious look before mumbling, still looking grumpy, “I’d prefer smelling horny you than my horny Uncle."
Flustering the hell out him, Stiles decided he’d give his frustrated boyfriend a reward when they get home.
It certainly didn’t have anything to do with needing the loft to smell not like pervert Zombiewolf and more like DerekandStiles.
But eventually, probably after that, he’ll revisit the issue of his cousin and Peter much, much later.
-o-
“Soooo…”
“Oh, so now you choose to be less articulate," Sorrel remarked sarcastically. "I won’t know what you want unless you speak it plainly, Stiles.”
“You could always read my mind,” he posed.
“And give myself a headache?" She scoffed. "I’d rather not.”
Stiles saw his opportunity and grabbed it, pertinently saying, “You could always let Peter drain the pain for you. Since he’s here, you know, all the time.”
Sorrel glanced at him over the cake she’d been working, looking utterly unimpressed. “Really?”
But Stiles already had his best foot forward, so he carried on, “You’re going away for a couple of days and if there’s one thing I know about werewolves, it’s that they’re extremely clingy. Is Peter gonna be going with you?”
“I’ll only be gone for five days. You’re making it sound like I’ll be going away for bloody months,” she dryly retorted as she finished decorating the cake. “And Peter said he has some things to do as well. It's not like we're literally attached to the hip.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised he’ll turn up on your doorstep one day though,” Stiles doggedly remarked as he eyed the luscious cake. “When can I eat this?”
“When I say it’s ready. I’ll pack a few slices for your father as well.” Deeming it done and perfect, she straightened up with a nod. “And I have a hunch he will. Good thing I have a plan to keep him satisfied and occupied, eh? Something to look forward to when I come back,” she finished with a wink.
Stiles mocked a gag. “I’m extremely happy with mine so I don’t need to know the intricate details of your sex life, thank you very much.”
Sorrel shrugged. “Your loss. You could use some suggestions perhaps. Now that you’ve pulled that long stick out of your plump arse and decisively snogged Derek right on my porch. Good call, by the way.”
“I already apologized for that,” Stiles groaned, his flaming face buried on his hands.
“But you didn’t need to. I didn’t think you had it in you, however.” She took off her apron, stretched her limbs and said, “Anyway, don’t concern yourself too much about Peter and I, Stiles. We both know what we want and it’s not what you’re thinking about.”
Assured he was not, and yet he answered, “If you say so, cousin.”
“Shut up.”
-o-
True to her word, Sorrel came back five days later and decided to throw a small party after she took care of whatever she needed done in Italy.
The friends with benefit shtick wasn’t quite sticking so well however, not with the way Sorrel and Peter kept drifting towards each other.
He didn’t think he’d see Peter acting like a sane yet possessive werewolf, but with the way he’d been plastering himself at his cousin like a fucking octopus, draping over her back like they didn’t have this big of a space, one would think he’d been left alone for an entire year and even more.
“Stop staring too damn much,” Derek murmured when he sidled beside him, slinking an arm around him as he pressed his face on his hair, inhaling deeply like he’d also been deprived of perfume a la Stiles for months.
As if Derek could distract him from his somber ruminations with his own affectionate clinginess, nuzzling his neck like that.
Ha! As if!
“Derek. Derek, humor me for a minute. Please, sweetcakes?”
Stiles heard quite a few gagging noises somewhere but he continued, aggressively whispering, “Don’t you think those two are way past their FUBU phase?”
Derek let out a heavy sigh and straightened up. “Alright, I’ll bite.” He skimmed his eyes over their subjects of interest before leaning his head against his, answering, “It’s not like Uncle Peter can’t already hear us but it’s none of our business, you know that right?”
Stiles shot him an incredulous look and argued, “Uhh… He’s your uncle and that’s my cousin.”
“Exactly, and they’re old enough to know what they want and what they’re doing,” Derek maintained, jutting his chin to the side. “Also, with the way you were staring, you’re really starting to give your dad a reason to worry.”
And true enough, his dad was sending troubled looks towards the couple even as he and Chris Argent were currently talking, a bottle of beer on the former’s hand that Stiles chose to ignore this time.
He supposed he was starting to act like a lunatic, so focused on his cousin’s flowering love life—Eugh!—but Stiles couldn’t help but feel a tad more protective.
Even with his dad on the know, something had radically changed between the two Stilinski men when Sorrel showed up on their doorstep. There was more trust, more understanding, easier and more warm conversations other than the stilted ‘Hi’s’ and the rushed ‘See you later’s’.
There was just… more of everything, or maybe they were simply finding themselves back to when there had been three of them, and Stiles wasn’t that dumb to think that none of these would’ve been possible if it wasn’t for the woman who’d readily come when his dad called for help.
So maybe Stiles had a little bit of right to act like he was having an existential crisis.
And for how his mouth ran even on the most unfortunate of times, it seemed like his words had failed him this time, but Derek was kinda perfect like that, because his Sourwolf understood and his exasperated and furrowed look turned soft and so understanding, that Stiles eventually conceded, albeit petulantly, “I guess they are. I could get my dad to get off their back, I guess.”
“Try to sound a bit more convincing and he'll believe you,” Derek encouraged, amused, while soothingly rubbing his arms.
Stiles let out a snort and pressed a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek, pulling him towards the table brimming with food, saying instead, “Come on, honeybunch. Let’s get more of that expensive wine you insisted on bringing and stuff ourselves with this delicious food.”
-o-
“You know what I think?”
John momentarily closed his eyes as he prayed for even more patience. “You’ll tell me anyway, even when I say no.”
Stiles ignored his dad’s sarcastic reply and carried on, swiveling his chair as if he wasn’t in the Sheriff’s office, wasting the Sheriff’s time, “I think they’re in denial. Like seriously, Dad”
“Who, Stiles?” he grunted.
“Sorrel and Peter, Pops. Who else did you think I'm talking about?”
“I don’t know," he exclaimed, so close to frustrated yelling. "You could be talking about you and Derek.” But John gave in and pinched the bridge of his nose, resigned that he wouldn’t be getting work done, not when his spastic kid was here. “And will you please stop spinning the chair? You’re gonna give me a headache.”
“Oh, we’re both past that," his kid freely responded. "Everything is swimmingly okay with me and Derek, my beloved paternal figure. Nothing is in denial with this boat.”
“Just… Just please get to the point before I call Derek to come and get you.”
Stiles gave him a very put upon look. “Alright, alright. Someone’s feeling cranky today, wow.”
“You’re here and you didn’t bring me lunch when you specifically told me not to order anything and I’ve been planning on having something from Alfred’s, Stiles,” John grumbled, unsmiling and definitely unhappy. “Alfred’s. When I finally had the spare time to go.”
“Dad, you can’t blame me for that!” he griped defensively, wildly swinging his arms. “I was totally gonna, I swear, but Sorrel called and said she’ll be bringing you your lunch today. Something about a new recipe she’s been trying.”
“Oh, damn…”
Stiles shot him a glare. “It’s healthy and delicious You know she makes better food than I do anyway, so don't complain. But back to my point, Dad. I bumped into her in the store the other day and she was with Peter and they were buying so many stuff I don’t think it’s just for her and you know what she said??”
John sagged back and gesticulated for his son to carry on, knowing better than to stop his son from spilling whatever he wanted to say.
“She said that half of the stuff is for Peter, because apparently, he rarely goes back to his own apartment anymore,” Stiles gossiped in a rush, almost on the edge of his seat. “They’re living together, Dad!”
John crossed his arms across his chest and with an upturned eyebrow, pointed out, “Kid, are you sure you want to have this conversation with me?”
Stiles opened his mouth to retort that yes, yes, he wanted to talk about this with someone but stopped short, gradually drooping back into his seat as he finally realized where this talk was going.
There were just some things not worth talking about with the parents, especially when it came out to be awkward and uncomfortable as hell.
Maybe it was time to call Lydia. Yeah, Lydia would be a much superior option. She could use a bit of tea after finally, officially, ending things with Jackson.
Before Stiles could get away however, the intercom let out a buzzing sound before Tara’s blithe yet polite voice was heard, “Miss Potter and Mr. Hale to see you, Sheriff. Should I send them in?”
John sent his son a barbed look that definitely conveyed to ‘keep his shit together’―he hadn't sounded hysterical, had he? ―before pressing the button and replying, “That’s perfect. Thanks, Tara.”
“No problem, Sheriff,” Tara responded before giving off a laugh, “And thanks for the free food!”
John blinked a few times before releasing his own chuckle. “That’s all on Sorrel, Tara.”
“Well, still… Enjoy your lunch!”
The intercom clicked off and not a moment later, the door swished open, revealing the couple.
“I apologize for the wait, John,” Sorrel hastily explained as she set down a bag on his table, giving Stiles and John a buss on the cheeks before glowering at the impeccable-looking Peter who languidly closed the door after. “Someone had a grand idea to almost flood the greenhouse today.”
“Your pipe was already broken before I had the chance to use it, darling,” Peter argued mildly before greeting them both with a nod, “Stiles. Sheriff.”
“Heya, Creeperwolf.”
“Hale,” John distractedly greeted back, his eyes focused on the food in front of him as Sorrel started to unbox the whole thing like a damn toy. “Thanks for the lunch, Sorrel. And for the rest of the food you’ve apparently given away, although you didn't have to.”
“Oh, no worries! I cooked way too much today to distract myself from murdering someone,” she said, the last one sounding like a prickly snarl aimed at the amused-looking Peter who took a chair beside Stiles.
“I don’t want to hear it,” John speedily butted in.
Sorrel gave him a smile, looking sheepish, before adding, “A little red meat with your vegetables today with some hot soup. And a slice of sponge cake for dessert. I handed cookies and muffins to your deputies but I’ve some left at home. Would you like me to drop it to your house later?”
Stiles let out a sound of objection as John joyously replied, “I’d love to. Thanks a bunch, Sorrel.” He raised an eyebrow at his whining child, voice mocking as he taunted, “And they’re basically good for me anyway. Isn’t that what you said, Stiles?”
Sorrel let out a pealing laugh as Peter smirked. “Relax, Stiles. Your father smells healthy and far from getting sick.”
"I am so reassured," Stiles sardonically replied.
Peter shrugged and patted his knee as he looked at Sorrel, and to John’s unconcealed surprise, instead of turning another chair for her with the use of her powerful magic, Sorrel rolled her eyes and decided to take his offer, propping on his lap with a smile across her face.
John could now see why Stiles was reacting the way he did.
“So why’d you decide to come today?” Stiles grumbled on his seat as he gave the couple a stink eye. “Thought you were gonna go on a date today.”
His son might be talented and terrifically intelligent but he really needed to learn when to take cues.
Sorrel straightened up as a look of realization hit her. “Right! We’re here to inform you that Peter and I’ll probably be gone for a week or two.” She turned to him and warily continued, “We’ll be off to England to discuss some… things.”
“Peter too?” Stiles questioned, a skeptical look on him before John could ask the same question.
With knitted eyebrows, Sorrel answered, “Yeah. Oddly enough, Draco wanted to meet him.” She shared a confused look at the man himself. “A matter concerning about born werewolves, I believe. Our call was cut short before he could really explain.”
Stiles mentioned something about resurrection and then tuned them both our when they started bickering. Instead, John flitted a look at Peter but the man was a hard, blank canvass, displaying nothing except an offhanded roll of his shoulder, likely saying ‘what can I do other than go when I’m being summoned?’
A lot, John mused inwardly as he scrupulously enjoyed his food. Peter could do a lot and he wouldn’t even be shocked if murder was on top of his list.
John had gotten to know what complex man Peter Hale was when he decided to stick around, even more so when he had this thing going on with Sorrel. But he eventually realized they were all literally just drowning with misery and trauma, and underneath the snark and the masks, the other man just desired the simple things back, back when he was whole and bursting with all kinds of love and protection and likewise driven with a sense of purpose.
Peter had that with the pack, he deduced, cautious and threadbare as it had been, but he must’ve found something worth more than that when Sorrel came.
Not that it was any of his business, he settled as he caught himself and resumed eating. He’ll have his beer and words of encouragement ready when it was needed.
“You kids are going to be the reason I’ll be having gray hairs and that’s saying something, with what my job is,” he muttered, ignoring Stiles’ indignant sputtering and Sorrel’s boisterous sniggering.
John sent Peter a relevant look and the werewolf’s piercing, blue eyes glimmered back.
-o-
Stiles let out a sharp shriek before running down the stairs, yelling, “Did you know about this!?”
“Know what, babe?” Derek asked without taking his eyes away from his book.
“That Peter was werewolf courting my cousin!”
“He was?” Derek finally looked at him, turning pensive. He must’ve finally grasped on something, probably with how Peter had been acting, because his face eventually smoothed out in realization, giving him a firm nod. “Oh, yeah. He was.”
“I knew it!” Stiles crowed loudly. “I knew their FUBU wasn’t fucking sticking! ‘Know what we both want and it’s not what you’re thinking’, my ass!”
Derek merely responded with a surly roll of his eyes.
“Der-Bear, you have to tell me these things!” Stiles resorted to whining as he dropped on the couch beside his boyfriend, wiggling his way on top of him. Derek easily accommodated him, marking his page and putting down his book as he occupied his arms with Stiles. “Are they going to get werewolf married now? Is that how this will go??”
Derek let out a grunt as he squirmed on his seat. “I didn’t even realize until now, Stiles. Uncle Peter’s clearly been subtle with his courting, I didn’t even notice. And I don’t know. He’s not too much of a traditionalist, but he might want one, depending on how Sorrel will react―”
“Oh, her reaction was pretty positive and enthusiastic. I suspect you’ll be officially gaining a new family member soon.”
Derek paused and gave him and his handheld phone a suspicious look. “How do you know that? She couldn’t have sent you anything yet.”
“She sent a Patronus to my dad. Good thing he was at home or else the floating, shimmering stag would totally raise questions. My dad texted me right after,” Stiles obligingly answered, flinging his phone. “He panicked and said he felt like they were going too fast but also not and he's just confused. He doesn’t know what to feel about the news.”
Derek suddenly looked troubled and Stiles understood he might’ve taken it the wrong way and quickly reassured him, “He didn’t mean it in a bad way, Sourwolf, so don’t stress. I guess he was just caught off guard when he received the news, you know, other than that one coming from me. It’s just been me and Dad for a very long time, so I think he forgets sometimes.”
His concerns answered, Derek gave him a small smile and pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead, silently responding that he completely understood the sentiment.
Stiles shortly settled down after and they basked in the solemn and comfortable silence for a moment as they recalled their lost bonds and found family members when Stiles broke the mood with a question, “Should we be expecting a carcass of a whole animal anytime soon? Should I clear out our fridge to make way for red meat now?”
Derek chuckled. “Not unless he went with that route. It’s traditional but totally optional. Peter might have a different way of showing he can provide for her and for any family they plan to have.”
“So we don’t really know until they’re both here,” Stiles surmised with a sigh, feeling put out he couldn’t see the courting happening.
Derek gave him a gentle nudge and asked, sounding fond and attentive, “Do you want a dead whole animal in your fridge?”
Stiles lifted his head from his chest and gazed at him with expectant, wide eyes. “You’d do that?”
“If you want me to,” Derek replied, trying to be casual about it, but the pretty, faint blush on his cheeks betrayed his true feelings about the matter.
Stiles responded with a glowing smile, broad and totally tickled at the idea of it, and went back burrowing his face on Derek’s chest, his reply muffled, “Only if you’re okay with slaughtering an animal. Otherwise, I’m okay if you want to do something else. It’ll be cool though.” His tone turned mischievous when he added, “It's going to show how gruff and manly you totally are, babycakes.”
Derek playfully growled and Stiles let out a surprised squeal when the former nipped on his ear, retaliating by trying to tickle Derek’s sides despite knowing the tactic wouldn’t affect the werewolf.
He was all muscles, geez, and much faster, and Stiles could only let out hysterical giggles as he tried to defend himself from Derek’s tickling onslaught.
Stiles eventually begged for surrender. Even feeling winded from their spontaneous tickle fight, Stiles pressed his lips against Derek’s before settling back down to catch his breath.
And that was when Stiles realized what Derek had said.
He laid there, unmoving, and Derek instantly did the same when he caught on his torrent flow of emotions.
Before he could say or react to anything else, Stiles scampered himself upright and sat astride his boyfriend’s lap, spluttering out, “Is this you proposing??”
Derek opened his mouth, probably to ask what he was talking about, when he recalled his earlier question and tensed.
“Do you want me to?” came another terse question instead. Loosening up, he carded his hands through his hair and softly admitted, “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but I was going to ask you after you finish college. A few years after that, give or take.”
Still riding on great disbelief, Stiles could only say, “Really… Me? Me? For real?”
Derek rolled his eyes in fond exasperation as he held both of his hands, bringing it to his lips, and pressing soft kisses on each finger that made Stiles ache with overflowing love for the man in front of him.
“You’re it for me, Stiles. I have no need for anybody else when you’ve completely bewitched me body and soul.”
His eyes unsurprisingly felt wet despite quoting the cheesy line from Pride and Prejudice and Stiles glomped on him with the tightest hug he could muster, wrapping his legs around him, affection and adoration pouring out of him.
Stiles didn’t expect anything when he came down freaking out over his cousin and Peter, but he’ll take the half-proposal anytime, anyday, anywhere.
“You make it sound like I gave you a Love Potion and I totes didn’t. You’re just crazy for good, ol’ Stiles,” he wetly blubbered out, his nose runny and clogged. “I love you. I love you so, so much, Derek and yes, yes to hella putting a ring on you and making you an honest man.” He might feel disgusting but he couldn’t help how ecstatic he was, smothering Derek’s face with kisses.
“I love you too, Stiles,” Derek managed to get out between pinched cheeks. “Even when you refer yourself in third person sometimes.”
“I’m adorable like that and you know it!” Stiles sniveled. “But, yeah. I want to finish university too, so I expect another grand proposal after that!”
“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”
-o-
“Wow… I did not see this coming. Like, at all,” was Stiles’ dispassionate comment when Sorrel hauled out what looked like more than half of a dead animal’s body from her magical bag.
Peter’s exceptionally proud expression as he stood on the side told him everything.
“Shut up and come help me put this in your fridge,” Sorrel retorted.
“You’re a horrible enabler,” Stiles countered, even as he did what he was told. “Shouldn’t you be putting all of these in your own fridge?”
“I already did that of course, but there are only two of us in the house and Peter said it’s fine since your family. And this is the second time he’s done this shite. He simply couldn’t help himself and just had to show off to Draco when the twat provoked him. Molly was particularly delighted when he dragged the whole thing into the Burrow,” she narrated as she removed and rearranged some of their things to make space for the meat.
“I bet she loved that.”
“You’ve no idea,” she drawled. “Exchanged notes with Bill and everything went even more effortlessly.”
“Hermione demanding her own elk?” Stiles asked, amused.
“Pregnancy hormones. I hear it brings out the basest of instincts,” Sorrel informed him with a nod.
“If this is how it’s going to be, you’re welcome here every single day, Peter,” John offhandedly remarked on the side, watching their progress and looking too cheerful for Stiles' liking.
“I’ll take you up on your offer, Sheriff,” Peter replied with a tip of his head, sounding equally humorous.
“It’s John, Peter.”
“John, then,” Peter acquiesced with a winning grin.
“Alright, alright.” Stiles pushed his dad towards their yard. “Do you want grilled everything for dinner, Dad? Of course, you do. Why am I even asking? Why don’t you start working with the grill then, hmm? Since you’re so eager, we could put some of this meat to good use.” He aimed an accusatory finger at Peter. “And you. Make yourself useful and go buy us the stuff we don’t have.”
“I have no idea what you currently don’t have, Stiles,” Peter answered, a derisive eyebrow raised.
Sorrel saved the werewolf from having a loaf of bread thrown at him when she handed him a note. “Here, my love. It’s a good thing we arrived earlier that we’d planned. We’re missing quite a couple of ingredients.” She turned to Stiles and asked, “Do you want to have steaks tonight? I brought beef as well.”
“Fine! Let’s go all out tonight since we’re apparently celebrating!” Stiles conceded. “You better have beer on there. And more vegetables. I would love to have buttered beans.”
“If it’s not, I’ll try my best to remember to get a few packs,” Peter wryly replied and gave Sorrel a kiss on the lips. “I’ll be right back, sweetheart.”
Sorrel gave him a besotted and dazzling smile before shooing him away. She turned to Stiles, saw him sagaciously wiggling his eyebrows, and muttered, “Bloody hell, just shut it, will you?”
“You’re a sap,” Stiles sang out. “I’m not gonna say ‘I told you so’.”
“But you’re absolutely and horridly feeling it,” Sorrel inferred with a roll of her eyes before looking back at the fridge.
“Of course I am.” He inched closer to her and nudged her on the shoulder, waiting for her to turn back her attention to him. When she finally did, the question that followed sounded earnest, “You’re happy, right?”
Sorrel nudged him back. “As I said, don’t worry about it too much.”
But Stiles remained persistent and maintained, just because he could, until she finally caved in, “Yes. Yes, I am.”
With a wide smile, Stiles nodded in acknowledgement. “That’s good. I’m totally cool with it.”
“It’s not like you have any other choice. He’s going to be your uncle-in-law.” She laughed quietly and gave him another nudge, nodding towards the potatoes on the counter. “Now, you work on that while I prepare the meat.”