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Stiles and Peter had talked.
Well, there was probably a lot more shouting and ordering and snarking than talking, but the point is they've exchanged words.
Stiles said, "I'm not scared of you." Peter said, "You must be Stiles." There was also, of course, all of the words exchanged on the lacrosse field, in Stiles' jeep and in the parking garage. There was probably a lot more that went unsaid and even more things that could've happened but didn't.
But that's not the point.
The point is that they've talked. They've had their first words.
So, Stiles was allowed to be surprised when it happened. He was allowed to be speechless when it happened. He was most certainly allowed to be freaked the fuck out when it happened.
'It' referring to the tingling and hint of burning coming from the soulmark on his wrist with the words 'Are you alright, darling' written in cursive.
'It' referring to the fact that Peter asked him, "Are you alright, darling?"
'It' referring to the fact that Peter fucking Hale just said the same first words of his soulmate, the same first words on his wrist, the same first words that were now burning ever so slightly and were surely turning from grey to black.
The same first words even though they'd already had their first words.
So, Stiles didn't reply. He stared with wide, surprised eyes and a healthy amount of fear wafting off of him, but he didn't reply. He didn't do much of anything until Derek yelled at Peter to, "Stop harassing Stiles and get the fuck over here!"
Stiles only blinked a little after that.
He still didn't get to reply though, because Peter had said, "Get well soon, sweetheart," and left.
Stiles was really fucking glad he didn't reply.
~
Stiles hated being speechless, and he was thankful that it rarely occurred, but he hated the few times that it had.
Words were all he had, in many ways. They were his only self-defence. They were his coping mechanism. They were how he held peoples' interest and attention. They were the only things he was ever really sure of.
He was glad it was very unlikely that he would ever see Peter again, because he could never speak to the man ever again.
He could never defend himself against him. Could never use his words as a coping mechanism against whatever Peter had to say to him. He sure as hell never wanted to hold the man's interest or attention ever again.
Because he was sure that whatever he would say would turn black on Peter's body and he didn't know how to handle that.
~
Stiles was baffled.
Scott had never apologised before, unless heavily coerced into it by his mother.
And Stiles knew that this wasn't any of Melissa's doing.
But somehow, somehow, Scott had apologised to Derek. A lot.
Derek hadn't exactly accepted the apologies (because there were multiple apologies, not just one) but Scott and Derek were talking.
To each other.
Somehow.
Which meant that Stiles was talking to Derek too.
And going to his house with Scott for pack night.
Which Erica, Boyd, Isaac and Jackson all participated in because they were pack too.
Which Peter participated in.
Because he was pack.
But Stiles didn't talk to him.
~
"Derek, have you told them about the, you know…" Isaac trailed off as he glanced around at the people gathered in the loft.
Boyd and Erica, soulmates, were cuddling on the loveseat.
Scott was on the couch with Allison, a space next to him for Isaac, all soulmates as well.
Peter was sat on the stairs and Stiles on the other side of the room, soulmates. Not that Peter knew. Not that Stiles would ever admit to it.
"Tell us what?" Stiles asked loudly, gaining everyone's attention. He kept his eyes trained on Derek and Isaac.
"We received a message recently-"
"And by message he means graffiti on the Hale house door," Isaac interrupted.
"-which suggests that the Alpha Pack is in our territory." Derek was getting a lot better at ignoring interruptions, courtesy of Stiles.
"Alpha pack? Like, several alphas in one pack? How does that even work?" Stiles asked, sitting up properly to stare at Derek incredulously.
"Not well," Peter said.
The 'what a surprise' on the tip of his tongue almost left his lips, but he held it back. Instead he barrelled on, addressing only Derek, "And you said the Alpha Pack, not an alpha pack. Are you indirectly saying that they're some kind of infamous pack of alphas that are gonna end up recruiting or killing all of us?"
"Stiles," Scott spoke up, placing a calming hand on Stiles' shoulder, "I think you're jumping to conclusions. Why would the Alpha Pack want to kill us?"
"No, Stiles is pretty spot on. And they want to because they're murderers, and murder is what they do."
Everyone glared at Peter.
Peter shrugged in response.
"Right, well, this is absolutely terrifying news." No one mentioned the fact that Stiles didn't actually smell of fear, just the usual amount of anxiety and concern. "Anyone want a drink?" he asked as he got up to go to the kitchen.
He rummaged through the fridge and almost brained himself when Peter spoke up, "Why don't you speak to me?"
Stiles took in a few deep breaths, trying to calm his heart. Once it was back to a more normal pace, he glared daggers at Peter.
"You talk to everyone else. Even Derek, who rarely replies with anything other than 'shut up'."
Stiles grabbed his drink and left the kitchen.
He didn't reply.
~
When he was younger, Stiles used to trace his mum and dad's soulmarks all the time. After a nightmare and he'd slip into their bed to sleep, whenever he scraped a knee, if Jackson was being an asshole again, if he was worried about a test.
He found comfort in running his fingers over the black 'Excuse me, miss, you left your book at your table', and its reply 'Thank you so much'.
His parents had met at school, high school sweethearts. It wasn't anything amazing or funny or weird, but it was special. Because they were soulmates, because they were his parents, because they had been nice to each other and loved each other from the very beginning.
He traced his own soulmark when he was younger, too. It was a sign that his soulmate cared about him, even if they had only just met him. They cared about him, even though it was the first time they had ever spoken to him.
His mum always made him promise to say something nice back, to show that he cared about them too.
Something like, "You're amazing."
So that they would always carry kind words with them. So that any time they felt sad, or bad about themselves, or angry, or nothing at all, they'd know that their soulmate thought they were great.
Just like how he always felt cared about.
~
After his mum died, after he saw how it affected his dad, after he saw the best man he had ever known drown his sorrows in alcohol and his work, he made a promise to himself.
If he ever met his soulmate, he wouldn't complete the bond.
Now, after meeting his soulmate, after his soulmark turned black and he didn't reply, he couldn't say for sure whether it was his promise or something else that stopped him from completing it.
~
When Stiles arrived home and walked into his bedroom Peter was already there.
"You know, if we hadn't already spoken before and my soulmark was actually something you'd ever say to me, I'd probably assume we were soulmates and you don't want to complete the bond."
Stiles' heart stopped, sped up and almost left his body completely.
Peter heard everything.
He stepped closer, Stiles stepped away, back against the door. For the first time in a long time, Peter could smell the fear coming off of the boy.
"Stiles, speak to me."
Stiles couldn't reply. All he could do was shake his head, not make eye contact.
"Prove me wrong. Prove to me that we aren't soulmates."
He kept shaking his head, tears in his eyes.
"Show me that you don't speak to me because you hate me, not because you're afraid of what we are."
Stiles wanted to reply. So badly. Everything he could say to Peter flitted about in his head. Things that would affect the here and now, like 'I'm sorry' and 'I'm not afraid'. Things that could affect the past, like 'Kate Argent is going to burn down your house' and 'Please don't bite Scott' but those were pointless, what's done is done.
No.
If he was going to break the promise he made to himself, then he would keep the promise he made to his mum.
"You're amazing, Peter."
It was quiet, a whisper, practically a breath.
But it was special.
Because they were soulmates.
Because he finally replied.
Because he could finally use his words and tell Peter everything that had been building up.
"You're amazing, Peter," he said again, just a fraction louder, and finally looked up at Peter.
Peter's eyes were wide, his jaw slack, then suddenly his expression changed. He looked both happy and hurt.
"Why didn't you want to complete the bond?" he asked, the most vulnerable and soft Stiles had ever seen him.
"I kinda, um, made a promise to myself that I would never complete it after… after mum died and dad became an alcoholic," Stiles said, surprising the both of them with his honesty. "I was also genuinely too shocked to reply to you the first time. Like, you come back from the dead, help save Jackson, ask if I'm okay and it turns out you're my soulmate? Especially since we had fucking spoken before, too."
Peter grinned, wide and—some would argue—with too much tooth. Tentatively, he asked, "Can I touch you?"
Stiles nodded.
Peter's hands settled gently on his cheeks and he shuffled closer. Peter breathed out, "Can I kiss you?"
Stiles nodded again.
Their lips connected, barely, softly, and Stiles leaned in more to deepen it ever so slightly. His hands wrapped around Peter's waist, pulling them flush against each other. Their lips started to move, tug and pull with teeth and tongue until they were making out and neither could breathe.
They pulled away, barely, softly, and Stiles grinned. "I'm so glad I can finally sass you back. The amount of times I almost spoke to you just for some smart-ass comment was really stressful."
Peter laughed, and his smile was soft. "I'm glad you don't hate me."
"Sorry I let you think I hated you," Stiles said, frown tugging on his lips.
"It's okay. At least I can kiss you now."
And so, they did.