˚ ༘ ✶ ₊ ˚. ི CHAPTER 10.
࿐ ᵗʰᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ʷʰᵉʳᵉ ˢᵗⁱˡᵉˢ ʰᵃˢ ᵃ ᵖˡᵃⁿ
THINK BACK TO THOSE MINUTES IN YOUR LIFE THAT YOU'D PAY THOUSANDS JUST TO EXPERIENCE FOR THE FIRST TIME AGAIN. Maybe it was reading page 250 for the first time. Or maybe it was binging your favorite show for the first time. Or for you extroverts, that one night jamming with your friends in an empty parking lot. Or maybe that very first time you fell in love. Whatever it is, we wanted that bliss again, the pure and raw stir of emotion we felt for what feels like the first time.
For Peter Parker, he remembers vividly what he'd go back to. It was a Wednesday night. and unfortunately for you hopeless romantics, it's not the first time he saw Stiles.
Because in all honestly, every time is better than the last.
But not this one. It's Wednesday, pouring cats and dogs, and it's just him, Aunt May, and Uncle Ben. They're doing a periodic table puzzle after dinner. The meatloaf May tried to make was absolutely disgusting and ben ended up ordering in chinese. They were all sipping orange soda and tuning out the old timey music Ben insisted they listen to.
It's bliss. It's Peter's favorite memory ever. He hopes that when he finally gets rest, that's his end. No heaven, no hell, just that night.
But you know, maybe if you're lucky enough, you get two moments. Maybe you get a handful. Because Peter knows that right now is worth more than Peter has even seen before.
"I think... I'd wanna be an FBI agent. You know, big leagues." Stiles smiled with a nod, resting on his arms, lying sprawled on the hood of his Jeep as he glanced to the clear starry sky.
Peter subconsciously awed, "Really? Be like your dad?" He spoke up, lying comfortably in his web-made hammock that was strung beside Stiles' car.
Stiles hummed. "Yeah. Help people. Save lives."
Peter smiled softly, praying he'd never forget this. How often would he get to say he'd actually spent real time with a guy of his dreams? Not studying, not killing things, not doing some bizarre supernatural research. But real time. "For some reason, I think you'd be good at it."
Stiles sat up suddenly, dangling one of his legs off of the hood and pulling his other close to him. He leaned back on his hands, not sitting up, before looking to Peter. "What about you? Come on, dream job. Biggest hopes and wishes in life."
Peter laughed lightly, shaking his head. "It's dumb."
"Nope. No dumb dreams. Spit it out Spider-Babe." Stiles persisted as per usual.
Peter looked down, picking at the hammock he'd made. "I just— I don't know— I guess I always thought it'd be cool to be an Avenger. You know, Captain America, Iron Man, Black Widow, fight crime with all them."
Stiles turned, eyebrows furrowed. Honestly, he was expecting something along the line of chemist or world-saving scientist. But this was so much better. "Wait, really?"
"Yeah. It's kind of a long shot, you know, but it's cool to think about." Peter shrugged, tapping a beat on his chest.
Stiles nodded. "Not really. You could totally do it. You're already annoyingly self-righteous and wholesome so you'd fit right in with those guys."
Peter sat up. "What?"
"I mean, they have the FBI in New York, so I could adjust. And I definitely know that Tony Stark guy would love you. You're both crazy genius." Stiles mumbled to himself. "What's he— like a kajillionaire?"
Peter laughed with disbelief. He'd daydreamed of being an Avenger, sure, but he'd never actually considered it to be his future. "Wait, wait, you'd want go to all the way New York with me?"
Stiles looked at the young hero, not understanding the incredulous looks he was getting. "Pete, bud, babe, they don't have the Avengers in Beacon Hills. Hate to tell you that."
Peter shook his head, waving his hands. "I mean like— I meant— you want me in your future. Like big time future future?"
"Duh. What, you think I'm just gonna leave you here to rot with Coach Finstock?"
Peter grinned ear to ear, gazing at his boyfriend, fascination swirling in his eyes. He looked over the constellation of moles and the honey color in his eyes. The prominent jawline and the unbelievably soft hair. "I — I love you. I love you a lot." Peter gushed.
Stiles bounced his eyebrows. "I'm glad. Otherwise apartment hunting in New York would be a little awkward. Especially with the whole one bed ordeal."
Peter's eyes widened, his cheeks immediately flushing a bright peachy red. "One — one bed?"
"We're paying twelve hundred rent every month and I'll be just starting training. We can't afford two."
Peter tilted his head, a questioning look over his face. the way Stiles talked about it like it was already happening, like they were already there. "How were you ever single?" He questioned honestly.
Stiles hummed. "It was the greater being above saying to me, "hey, wait for the dork in a leotard.""
Peter's shoulders dropped, an annoyed expression washing over. "I — I don't know if dork or leotard was more hurtful."
Stiles smiled, balling up a leaf he'd picked off of his hood, and tossing it at peter, watching it bounce off of his nose. "Neither, because you love me so very much."
Peter pressed his lips together and sighed. "You've got me there."
Stiles glanced back, seeing Scott and Liam having quite the bonding time a few yards back. A little father son moment if you would. "I can't believe that little runt went streaking."
It happened June twenty third, when Stiles finally popped the question. Only four months after the whole Mexico Peter Hale mishap. One of which Peter refused to revisit now that he'd finally been convinced that he'd done good by laying Peter Hale out.
It took a few days of Stiles-therapy to convince him that he wasn't the bad guy. It was a bit pitiful, the way Peter beat himself up for it. Baffling, the way peter thought he'd done something morally wrong.
For a superhero, Peter didn't like violence.
But now it was nearing the end of August, and the two month mark of Stiles and Peter being the absolute best couple Beacon Hills had ever seen.
TWO MONTHS AGO . . .
"Hey Stiles! You'll never believe you I caught on a call tonight!" Sheriff Stilinski bellows from the bottom of the stairs, beckoning smiles to curtly exit his bedroom and hustle down the stairs. It's a nightly occurrence, Sheriff arriving home and Stiles sitting in random positions throughout the kitchen to listen about his dad's day while Sheriff finally eats dinner.
He hops on the counter, tossing an baseball up and down again, to give his hands something to do so he can actually listen. "What?"
Sheriff chuckles, "That spider kid. God — little bastard hobbled in and out of the crime scene like it was laser tag." He shook his head.
Stoles ' face fell. "What — what happened?"
Sheriff hummed, sliding a plate of leftovers into the microwave for a minute or two. "Umm... petty armed robber in a jewelry store downtown. Couple no goods with some heat."
Almost falling off the counter, Stiles skids to the door in his plaid pajama pants and lacrosse hoodie and snatches his keys. "I gotta go! I'll — I'm — I can't think of an excuse, I'll be at Peter's!" He yelled, almost rolling down the stairs and out to his Jeep. The tires screeched and left a black mark on the edge of the driveway before it was hurtling down the road and towards Beacon Preserve Apartments.
Sheriff cracked open a beer. "I should've parented. But — a recorded Mets game is calling me." He mumbled to himself.
Stiles jammed his copy key into the apartment door, slipping in what would've been soundlessly if he hadn't knocked off aunt May's purse in the process.
Who was also sitting on the couch watching a chick flick. Her head turned. "Guhhh! Jesus, Stiles! Why do you have a— " She hesitated as she stared at the key, a hand over her heart. she pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose. "Should I ask?"
He shrugged. "You can. But I don't advise it."
She waved him off. "Just don't — he's in his room."
And he didn't just that, half sprinting down the corridors of the apartment and past all the frames of baby Peter. And almost busting down the shut door, Stiles was heavily breathing upon seeing Peter standing in the mirror in simply boxers, wiping fresh blood out of a gash on his side.
Be whipped around, startled, his hand thwippijg out a web and slingshotting the discarded spidersuit into the closet. "Gahh!"
"Oh, Stiles, it's just you. You scared me!" He breathed out.
Stiles exhaled heavily, like he'd just seen someone be pushed out of the way of oncoming traffic. As if Peter wouldn't be where Aunt May said he was. That instead he'd be dead on the sidewalk somewhere in Beacon Hills. "You?! You scared the shit out of me!"
"Sorry? Wait — why?"
Stiles sighed. "You gotta call me and tell me you're okay after patrol. It's bad enough wondering if my dad will come home." He breathed out hastily. "I didn't even know you went out! God — and dad came home going on and on about some spider bastard limping away!"
Peter blinks. Suddenly a bit guilty, never thinking about it like that. Because Stiles never really did know anymore. All the time there was a chance that everything could come crashing down, natural and supernatural. And now Stiles it left to worry whether he'll have a best friend tomorrow or a dad to say good night to.
And Peter's simply though it was Thursday.
"Hey, I'll call next time, okay?"
Stiles nodded. "Okay — I just — I thought something had happened to you."
"I'm okay. I promise." Peter looked down the mask in his hands briefly before back up at the boy. Sucking in a deep breath, tuning through the millions of scripts he'd practiced for this exact moment. "Hey, Stiles?"
The Stilinski boy sat comfortably on the bed. "Yeah?"
"I like you." He exhaled.
Stiles froze, almost dropping his car keys, phone, and sweatshirt out of his hands. But he didn't, and he simply stared at the boy in front of him, like he'd grown four heads.
"I'm — wow — that was so dumb. I'm — I'm really sorry. Let's just — that didn't happen. Al all. I'm — is it hot in here?"
Blinking, stiles is still a bit taken aback.
"Oh god, I broke him."
Stiles chuckles, exhaling after holding in a breath he'd didn't even know about. "Uh..."
Peter is just about hyperventilating, running his clammy hand through his damp with sweat spikey hair. He feels open and vulnerable to Stiles' eyes and now more than ever, insecure. "Um, yeah, just forget it. I just thought because you came over so quickly because you — and I don't even know if you like boys like that and I totally just ruined everything we had and I'm now regretting ever freaking talking to you and honestly should've just admired from afar and left you and your really cool friends alone forever and died in a hole alone —" He breathed out.
Stiles covers Peter's mouth with his hand.
"Please don't die in a hole." He mumbled.
Peter can see the flecks of green stiles has in his honey swirls of eyes, the dotted moles and freckles he had like constellations on his skin. Every detail and perfect imperfection chiseled out for Peter to see. "Mhmm hm m mgngnng mgm mihm m mhlm."
"Oh — sorry." Stiles lifts his hand. "Huh?"
"What if I wanna die in a hole."
Stiles shrugged. "Then I'd have to start liking someone else and I don't know any other spider boys with cute butts who don't call when they get home."
༺
"Is it a party?" Liam mumbled from the backseat. He'd been graciously granted a ride home after being nothing but a nuisance on Stiles one big night of the summer. The one night entirely dedicated to revealing his future to Peter and taking the first steps into said future. Senior year.
"It's not a party." Stiles grumbled.
Peter had made the most of the night. He kept stiles occupied while Scott dealt with Liam's special tantrum wolf needs, and even secured front seat in Roscoe so Scott was crammed in the back for once. This also left Peter's hand to be guided on the stick shift under Stiles'.
"Than what's at midnight?"
"Your bedtime."
Peter laughed, no one else did.
Liam furrowed his brows, not satisfied with Stiles abrupt and sarcastic responses, which honestly what else should he have expected? "Why aren't the girls going?"
"They're meeting us there, okay? And just — stop asking questions, all right? It's a senior thing. You'll know when you're a senior."
Peter grimaced from beside Stiles. "Stop saying senior. Makes me feel old." He whined, thinking of Aunt May making him make his own dentist appointments now that he was gonna be eighteen within a few months. Goodbye clean teeth.
Stiles scoffed with a smile. "Sorry, princess."
Frowning at the no signal symbol glowing in the corner of his phone, and his text not going through to Kira, he brought it up. "Are your guys having trouble with your phones?" He questioned, Peter swiftly pulling at his own and glancing at the one bar and no LTE he shrugged, could just be the spot they're in. Kinda woodsy, lots of trees.
And weighing down of the growing list of problems arising that night, a sputter of exhaustion came from the hood of the Jeep, the wheels no longer turning at thirty five miles an hour, slowing to a dead stop.
"Ah, what the hell?"
Liam poked his head out, both Scott and Stiles climbing out, leaving Peter in the front and Liam in the back. This was pretty routine, Pete would stay in the car to turn the ignition whenever Stiles had to fix something. "Are you out of gas?" Liam called out.
Stiles popped the hood and sighed. "No, it's electrical. Probably the alternator again."
Rounding the bumper, Scott's eyes widened at the overwhelming amount of black duct tape surrounding just about every pipe and valve there was. "Woah, that's a lot of duct tape."
Stiles glared at him.
"Kidding. We'll fix it."
Shaking his head, he ruffled his hair. "I know. It's just the last night of summer, you know? So, I wanted to make sure everyone was there tonight." He answered honestly, sick and tired of the universe trying to cockblock his night.
Now in the driver seat, Peter poked his head out the window. "Hey, we'll make it. Most of us can run either way. I'll carry you if so need be. Strong boy, remember?" He lifted his bicep and flexed outside the window, Stiles peaked before thankfully laughing.
Indeed. Peter Parker was packing some serious muscle under those button ups and science pun t-shirts. Stiles knew, and Scott bounced his eyes brows.
"See? Your man has the spider brain." Scott cheesed.
Unimpressed with Peter's note about carrying him like a child, he nodded slowly. "Yeah..."
Thunder rumbled, Peter's head turning at the rolling growl echoing over the back road. But it was quickly shrugged off, the flash of lightening too far to be worried about.
Liam thought otherwise. "guys..."
They ignored him. Stiles waving him off, "Yeah, give us a second, please." He responded from inside the hood.
"Liam, stay in the car, okay?"
Another boom of thunder. except this time, the strike of lightening exploded just behind them, blinding for a second and making the two hearts inside the Jeep skip a beat. Peter winded slightly, his ears hypersensitive and aching at the boom.
Scott's eyes widened. "That was close."
"Very close."
Liam reached past Peter and cranked the ignition, the engine grumbling to life and puffing a wave of heat from out of the muffler. Scott and Stiles blinked, glancing at each other briefly before shrugging and climbing back into the Jeep.
Feeling stiles grasp his hand at the middle console, Peter grinned. "To pick up Malia!"
They'd arrived at Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital within half an hour, both Malia and Scott adventuring the fluorescent lit hallways to find Liam's stepfather. After all, the rest of the nights activities exclusively extended invitations to up and coming seniors of the high school.
An event Peter honestly had never planned on going to. He never really planned on being remembered in Beacon Hills, no need to leave his mark here. Spider-Man and Peter Parker were headed where ever the crime was.
Sucking on his teeth, toying with the string bracelet looped around stiles' wrist. "So... Malia and Scott. Kinda cute, right? Or — is he over Kira? Is that a thing still?"
Stiles shrugged, "I don't even know. He told her to 'just have fun' this summer. So... who knows. And Malia, she'll point out his insecurities. Scott's sensitive." He added, knowing first hand of Malia's not so present filter.
"So are you." Peter noted.
Stiles rolled his eyes. "You cried Tuesday because you remembered snails don't have arms."
Turning dramatically to face Stiles, Peter frowned. "Do you have a point or are you just trying to hurt my feelings?"
It went silent.
"Wait. What are we doing?"
Peter nodded to the bustling night shift of the hospital, the doors sliding open and closed every minute or so. "Waiting for Malia and Scott."
"You're my boyfriend! We're in my car! Alone!"
He nodded. "Yeah... we can turn on the radio or — oh!"
Stiles shook his head, "Jesus! Come here!"
He grinned stupidly, "So demanding." He muttered before leaning over the middle console from muscle memory and touching his lips to Stiles'. And like every time, the two never even pulled away until Scott abruptly interrupted, knocking on the window.
Malia sighed, clicking off her empty phone. "Nothing from scott and Kira." She mumbled, shoving the phone back into her jean pocket.
"And nothing from Lydia, either." Stiles shook his head.
Frowning, she crossed her arms and groaned. "And I still don't know if I passed." Malia shrugged, "I don't want to do this unless I'm actually a senior."
Peter patted her shoulders supportively. "You will, Malia. We studied. Us and you and Lydia." He replied, vividly recalling the hours upon hours of explaining every bit and piece of math to Malia best he could. It only reminded him that he honestly wasn't meant for the teaching career.
Malia shook her head. "You two are too smart. It's not even English around you two." She complained, before crinkling her nose at the wafting wretched scent from beside her. Malia peeks to Stiles, who is biting his nails obsessively. "What wrong with you? You smell terrible."
He scoffed. "Yeah, it's called anxiety— should be a familiar scent for you by now, since it's pretty much a constant state for me."
Peter shuffles over to beside him, taking the hand from his teeth and wrapping it in a tight squeeze. "Stiles, you gotta chill. They'll make it. It's gonna work out." He promised. He was used to calming his own anxiety, but he swore he'd learn how to deal with Stiles' as well. As a good boyfriend, Stiles deserved Peter to be one as well.
"Why this thing so important to you?" Malia questioned.
"It's not. It's not." He defended, before seeing both Peter's and Malia's very unconvinced expressions. "It's, uh... well — I don't know, maybe it is. I asked my dad the other day about his high school friends. Guess how many he still talks to?" He quizzed.
Peter shrugged. "Aunt May doesn't talk to anyone but her new book club and me."
He pointed at Peter, point proven. "Exactly. None. Not a single one. You know, these were his best friends, and he just says he lost touch with them, you know. So, I started thinking about things, like I always do — obsessively."
Peter nods. "We're working on it."
"...and so, I'm thinking, what if... what if Scott's my best friend now, you know, but he's not my best friend for life? What if I have Peter now but... but he saves some strapping dude stuck in a tree on patrol? What if I lose that too?"
Peter frowned, never a fan of hearing Stiles' doubtful thoughts about their relationship. Of course he wasn't mad, it was human to have doubts. Especially being both of their first relationships, everything seemed too good to be true. The true likeliness that Stiles and Peter were soulmates felt like one in a million.
But it hurt to know Peter wasn't expressing his love as well as he'd like to. He just wanted Stiles to know exactly how strong what Peter felt was.
Peter needed to pick it up.
Malia shrugged. "Well, doesn't that just happen sometimes?"
Sticking up an objective finger, Peter begged to differ. "Um, no. He still doesn't grasp the fact I've been quite literally obsessing over his plaid shirts and him since middle school." He blurted.
Both ignored him.
"But only because we let it happen. You know, that's what I'm saying — how come when we graduate, we're just expected to go our separate ways? If I've already found the best people in my life, why aren't I not trying to stay with them, you know?" Stiles exasperated.
"Well I thought that was the plan. The dream."
"The vision. And don't mock the vision!"
Peter hummed. "I like the vision. I like all of it."
"So that's why you wanted everyone here tonight— because you don't want to lose all your friends after senior year." Malia gathered.
"And I hope they don't want to lose me, either."
Peter shook his head, feeling Stiles' eyes finally on him. "I'm not baring my soul to you right now, but if you think I'm leaving you've lost your marbles." He shrugged.
Nodding, "That's sweet but— Malia?" Stiles halted, seeing Malia visibly stiffen. her nose twisted, hands itching to release the tension in her nails.
"Someone's coming. Someone fast."
A body hurled around the corner around the school, colliding head on into Peter, knocking both of them to the ground roughly. Stiles jumped back, yelping. "Oh my god!"
The figure rolled off of Peter, revealing a very startled Liam Dunbar, slightly out of breath. Still stunned, Malia helping the poor spider boy to his feet. Stiles dusted off Peter's shoulders and rubbing the dust out of Peter's hair.
"Scott's in trouble." Liam breathed out.
And that's enough to get Malia moving, Stiles snatching Peter back from running along side her. Peter's eyes widen, Stiles leaning in closely. "Suit's in the Jeep, go." Stiles rushes out, before pressing a chaste kiss to Peter's cheek and dashing off with Liam and Malia.
Peter grins, sprinting into the parking lot with glee.
He swings into the overhang, strapped in red and blue with a menacing glare expressed on the mask. It's not Sweater-Boy Mc Science Geek anymore. And Stiles feels a bit more excited in the pants than he honestly should right now, but what can you do when your already smoking hot boyfriend wears fitted spandex that hides all but nothing?
Peter's feet collided with the chest of the observed suspect, the new glowing neon blue claws a dead give away. There was even a sixth body, one Peter didn't recognize, but his defensive stance put him on Scott's team, which was good enough.
Peter landed elegantly, knelt close to the ground in his natural spider pose, Scott and the unknown standing behind him. A dramatic scene fit for a movie screen. Peter slowly rose to his feet, itching for the downed man to move another inch.
"I don't know who you are, or what you thought you were going to do, but I'll give you a choice. You can stay, and we'll break another bone, Or — you can run."
"I'd run." Stiles juts in.
And he does, Spider-Man shaking out his tense muscles and stalking over to Stiles' side, nodding with the hidden smile underneath the mask. He was full of unspent energy, bouncing on his toes and flexing his fingers, fidgeting and cracking his neck.
Spider-Man truly brought something over him.
And finally, the unknown ally approached the reconciled pack, Stiles looking over Peter for injuries (and a quick little glance at his spider butt) before back to the pack.
"You guys don't remember me, do you?" The boy smiled softly, hands fiddling almost nervously. "I guess I look a little different since the fourth grade."
Scott furrowed his brows. "Theo?"
Malia craned her head, obviously a bit confused at the automatic recognition. "You know him?"
Before answering, Stiles noticed the hesitant glance at Peter in the spider suit, the hungry look. "They used to." Theo composed himself, answering swiftly. "Trust me, I never thought I'd see you guys again. A couple of months ago, I heard of an alpha in Beacon Hills. When I found out his name was Scott McCall, I just couldn't believe it. Not just an alpha, but a true alpha."
Giving him a questionable look, "What do you want?" Scott hummed.
"I came back to Beacon Hills — back home with my family — because I want to be a part of your pack. and— " The gaze returned to the web slinger in red and blue, a bit surprised no one else was as flabbergasted at the casual attendance of a literal superhero to their teenage brawl. "And to meet Spider-Man, didn't know it'd be so soon."
"Yeah he's cool. We're friends — good friends — with him — with Spider-Man — good friends with Spider-Man." Stiles sputters out braggingly, and maybe a bit defensively.
But Peter doesn't pick up on any hostility, and shrugs rolling back and forth bashfully on his heels. "Thanks man, love meeting fans. These guys get kinda boring." He jokes.
Stiles elbows him.
" — love em though." He corrects. "Best friends."
Theo now out of sight, but not quite out of mind, Stiles hangs back to meet up with Scott. Peter (now back in his normal attire) and Kira are beside Malia, congratulating her on passing her junior year after all, and finally knowing her place as an official senior.
"We haven't seen this kid in years — you don't find that highly suspicious?" He whispered, not wanting to crush Peter's new found confidence from having a fan not from Beacon Hills.
Scott shrugged. "I'm kind of more concerned about the guy who just tried to kill me."
"Well he didn't. But this kid..."
Grinning, and shaking his head, Scott knew there was a ulterior motive to Stiles' suspicions. "You're mad he hit on Peter without even knowing."
"Directly indirectly. I mean, what else to you say to a superhero right in front of you? Personally, I think he's trying to draw Peter to his side."
Scott lifted a brow, "His side?"
Interrupting Stiles new upcoming retort, Lydia Martin hurries down the set of stairs into the main open area of the library as her friends entered. Scattered students wandered around, all making their own set of memories. She huffed, "Thank god! Where have you guys been? The whole senior class is here! Are we doing this or not?"
Smiles break out as the pack surrounds themselves around the nearest open spot on the cleated library shelves. Kira and Malia go first, scribbling their initials onto the metal, dozens of others around it.
"This isn't vandalism, is it?" Kira mumbled.
Lydia shrugs, delicately inscribing her own L.M. onto the metal shelf with her own tiny heart in the corner. "...not technically."
Peter and Stiles are next, Stiles happy with how easy his are to write, double S's now permanent on the shelf. Peter thankfully isn't even afraid to put his double P's right next to his. And Stiles is the one to add a plus sign between them, thinking a heart around them is too cliche.
Scott goes last, admiring the array of initials he recognized around the small open spot fit for his. He'd never planned his freshman year to ever have this tight knit group by his side. Peter Parker and Lydia Martin total oddballs fourteen year old Scott McCall never saw coming.
He wrote in his S.M.
And he only hesitated for a second before writing in A.A. right beside his own. The group fell quiet, a moment of silence for the fallen archer taking its toll.
Stiles nodded with a sigh, clapping a hand on Scott's shoulder supportively. "She would have been with us."
Scott stares at the initials. "Yeah..."
Lydia doesn't find that good enough. "She still is."