Stiles tries to focus on his research for his thesis but the green grass and sweet smelling breeze are calling to him.
"Where is your head at, sweetheart?"
Stiles startles and looks over to the recliner where Peter is sitting with his new book. "Uh. Iwannagoplayoutside," he mumbles.
Peter quirks his brow. "Try again."
"Iwannagoplayoutsideplease?"
"I see. Have you finished your research?"
Stiles shakes his head.
"Well then perhaps you should do that first."
Stiles pouts and widens his eyes imploringly.
Peter huffs because Stiles is doing it on purpose, thinking Peter will cave. Damn the boy, he knows Peter can't resist those Bambi eyes. "Fine, but you're not going alone."
Stiles opens his mouth to object. "But–"
Peter narrows his eyes. "You are not going alone because I don't want a repeat of last time. Did you forget spending a night in a burrow because you got lost chasing butterflies? I was worried and well you know I just need to make sure you're safe. Don't you darling?"
"Sorry. No," Stiles mutters and sighs. "All right. You can come with me, I guess. Can we go now?"
"Yes. Just so long as you don't rip your clothes aga–"
A yip sounds from inside a pile of shredded fabric that had been Stiles's clothes. Then a small orange kit peeks out looking at Peter innocently.
With a long suffering sigh, Peter demonstrates slowly removing his clothes before shifting. Luckily, they have a doggy door that leads to the backyard. He follows the little fox out but once they reach the gate he catches Stiles by the scruff, holding him in his jaws as he leaps over the fence and trots through the grass.
Stiles yips and growls at him but Peter ignores his protests and eventually Stiles settles. It makes Peter preen when his little fox submits to being carried like a cub. He knows just where they'll go today, and Peter knows Stiles will be pleased because there will be hundreds of butterflies to keep the fox more than occupied for hours.
They reach the lake a little after 2 pm and Peter plops down in the grass, relishing in the feeling of the warm sun on his fur. Stiles wiggles relentlessly until Peter's jaw releases him and then bats at Peter's muzzle with his paws.
Peter huffs at the playful mood the fox is in but supposes this is the perfect place to get out all the excess energy.
He rests his head on his paws keeping a close eye on Stiles as the fox darts around the clearing, batting at the butterflies and even catching one. Peter snorts at the look of disgust on Stiles's face after swallowing the winged creature.
It takes around three hours for Stiles to tire out enough to return to Peter. He yips at the wolf in a 'Come and play with me' impression. Peter tilts his head but doesn't move. Stiles needs to work for it if he wants Peter to play.
Stiles whines and darts forward, batting Peter's nose with his paw before darting out of reach of the wolf's bigger paws. The fox does this several times until Peter can't resist the playfulness.
The wolf growls playfully and raises his haunches, swaying back and forth. Stiles geckers and jumps back right as Peter pounces. The wolf lets out a big huff as he hits the ground and growls at the fox who is laughing at him.
Stiles feels no shame and leaps on the wolf's back nipping at Peter's ears and nuzzling his neck. He weaves under Peter's muzzle and buries his nose against the wolf's chest. The small orange fox's tail curls around Peter's paw and his breathing evens out. Peter smiles and nuzzles the fox, pleased he could do this for the little one.
It's also one of his favorite things to do, though he won't tell Stiles this. At least not yet. See Stiles is at Peter's all the time especially as he uses Peter's books to finalize his thesis for his master's degree. The scent of them coats Peter's apartment and it's intoxicating. Yet it seems Stiles only acknowledges more when they're fully shifted. Peter isn't sure why, but he will never say no to foxy cuddles. Especially because one day he's sure those foxy cuddles will be joined by Stiles-y cuddles.
A rumble sounds in the wolf's chest and Stiles snuffles, pushing his snout further into the wolf's fur. A soft purr echoes from the little fox and Peter relishes in the affectionate little thing. His wolf repeats the words 'mine' and 'mate' over and over in his mind. Now if only the boy would put it together. His fox already has but Peter is a patient man and so long as he still gets moments like this, he can wait.
