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“Would you go back for Malia?” Stiles asked with one arm tucked under the pillow and his head resting on it as he watched Peter. “To beacon Hills.”
“I never officially left,” Peter says, avoiding the actual question. “You, on the other hand…”
Stiles frowned, wrinkling his nose, and turned his head to the other side.
“You’re terrible at pillow talk,” Peter complained. Stiles continued ignoring him. “I can hear you. I know you are not asleep.”
Stiles turned back to look at him. “Would you go back to help Derek?”
Peter sighed; this conversation wasn’t going away. The night wasn’t going as he expected it to go.
“Fine. Tell me what you have in mind.”
“Sensitive FBI information,” Stiles said and rolled to lie down on his side as if the sex had been foreplay for this conversation. “Can you help me find him before they do?”
“Is that why you quit? You realized hunters infiltrated every law enforcement agency and decided that you need to do things outside the agencies?” Stiles half shrugged. “I know where to find him, yes. If I help, will you promise to work on your pillow talk?”
“My pillow talk is amazing when I try to have pillow talk. This is a serious issue; you’re lucky there was any sex before I brought it up.”
Peter arched an eyebrow at him for a second before rolling his eyes.
This thing between them was new, it had only just become a thing after the Hunt. Peter had decided to use what was recovered of his money to enjoy whatever life he had left – which may not be long considering Beacon Hills – and Stiles…well, Stiles had decided to run. Peter hadn’t judged him, but he had teased and offered him a car.
It had amused and surprised him when Stiles no only accepted the offer but gave him a brand and model.
Stiles, at the time, had wondered if the car was a down payment for something Peter expected of him or if it was a thank you gift for helping him get away from the ghost train station of doom. Peter had laughed and asked what actually asking Stiles out would get him.
Stiles had sucked at pillow talk back then, too. Peter remembered it all too clearly when they were both lying in bed, naked and tired, still riding the afterglow, and Stiles said, “I still can’t believe you saved Malia.”
It should be no surprise now that this was the time Stiles chose to bring this up when he seemed to have a tendency to bring up Peter’s family at inconvenient times.
“I dread the day we’ll have sex and you’ll ask me what Talia was like right after I throw out the condom,” Peter snorted.
“Dick,” Stiles replied, reaching out to push at his shoulder in an empty threat to push Peter out of the bed. “This is important, I needed to make sure I have you at your weakest.”
“So you admit to ambushing me.”
“Fine, I admit to ambushing you. I’m so sexually attractive that I seduce men to my bed to have them vulnerable just so I can pillow talk them into doing my biding. You found out my fucking plan. Literally.”
“I thought you said it was a serious matter, Stiles,” Peter commented, but a smile played on his lips.
“It is,” Stiles sat up and rubbed his face, frustrated by the distraction. “Your nephew is being considered a serial killer, did you know that?”
“That’s absurd.”
“My thoughts exactly.”
Peter stared at Stiles, waiting for him to crack a joke, but he never did. They watched each other in shocked silence.
“How…”
“I don’t know!” Stiles made fists with his hands in such a violent way that he shook them instead of keeping them still. “He’s considered particularly feral. What do you think hunters will make of that? A bullet to the head is what they’ll make of that. Goddammit, your family is so frustrating, you need saving all the time,” he opened his hands and breathed out, but Peter was sure Stiles would get up at any point now to work out some of the frustration by pacing around the room. “It’s like I have a sign on me that says ‘In case of troubled Hales, call Stiles’. So this time, this is on you. You find him and, I don’t know, rescue him? Hide him? Lock him in your basement until all danger has passed? That last one sounded creepy, I heard it as I said it.”
He gestured to his ear to indicate he heard it. Peter just watched him. He didn’t want to let Stiles go. He didn't want to lose him, not now, not ever.
“Come with me.”
“Where?” Stiles asked, still caught up in his own thoughts.
“To rescue Derek from the evil hunters.”
Stiles looked at him as if he was crazy. He thought of his father; he couldn’t leave him but, then again, he had left already. He bit his lip, genuinely tempted.
“Look at you promising me adventure. Where in the country?” he asked. Peter smirked. “Fuck. Not in the country. Where is he?”
“Brazil, but don’t worry,” he put his hands on Stiles' knees to balance himself as he leaned in and pressed a light kiss to Stiles’ lips. “You’re gonna love South America.”