Title: Calm Before the Storm
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: gen, maybe a hint of Peter/Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 985
Warnings: Nothing, really, but this is a crossover/AU.

Disclaimer: Teen Wolf does not belong to me. It belongs to the brilliant Jeff Davis and all the other writers, producers, etc., who work with him. No harm was meant. I'm just playing with these guys, I'll put them back where I found them when I'm done... more or less intact. ^_~

Summary: At Stiles' lifted eyebrow, Peter shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Perhaps it wasn't an outright invitation, but you were bored and alone. And when you're bored and alone... things get interesting very quickly. I've learned over the years that I prefer being at the eye of the storm when you're the one cooking it up."

December 18, 2012: Oh, come on now. I have to catch a train in like... 5 hours, and if I was going to waste good sleep time writing fic, it should have been Yuletide. -.-;;; I've had a "Stiles and Peter as mischief gods" plot bunny running through my head for days now and when I sat down to work on Yuletide... this is what happened. O_o;;; Whoops? At least I managed to curtail it into something less than 1000 words... :-P

The town of Beacon Hills was quiet - some might say too quiet. Some might say it was the calm before the storm. Some might say it was eerie, uncanny, like waiting for the other shoe to drop. Stiles snorted. "Some" said quite a bit too much on a regular basis. He appreciated a quiet night - not too often, mind you, but he did appreciate one. Besides - he smiled as he noticed another figure approaching the rock where he was sitting overlooking the town - tonight had the potential to become far less quiet. As the older man reached the overlook, Stiles smirked up at him, "Peter... fancy meeting you here."

The other man snorted inelegantly as he sat down beside Stiles on the rock, "You knew I would come." He doffed an imaginary hat in Stiles' direction and said, "How could I resist such a tempting invitation?"

Stiles lifted an eyebrow, "I didn't invite you."

"Sure you did," Peter replied. At Stiles' lifted eyebrow, he shrugged, eyes twinkling with mischief, "Perhaps it wasn't an outright invitation, but you were bored and alone. And when you're bored and alone... things get interesting very quickly. I've learned over the years that I prefer being at the eye of the storm when you're the one cooking it up."

Stiles laughed and bumped the older man's shoulder with his own, "You know I'm not susceptible to flattery." At the other's patently innocent look, Stiles rolled his eyes, "Or you should know that by now."

He got a shrug and a sheepish grin in response, "It's been a while since we last ran together. Maybe I was hoping you'd changed."

Another snort, "Fat chance..." Stiles smirked, "But I appreciate when you try."

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes before Stiles spoke up again, "So... this resurrection thing you have planned... isn't it a little Judeo-Christian?" He stuck his tongue out in distaste, "I didn't think you went in for grand gestures like that."

Peter lifted an eyebrow, "Well... it seemed like something fun to do on a Saturday night." At Stiles snort of derision, he then waved a hand expansively at the one sitting beside him, and added, "And what about this? Your current form may have some spunk, but he's awfully humble for your tastes. Don't you normally appear as eye-catching as you can get away with?"

Stiles let his lips stretch into a slow smile as he leaned back to rest on his elbows. He lifted an eyebrow, "Well, now... are you implying that you don't find me eye-catching? You seemed quite taken with me just a few months ago..."

Hiding a smile behind his hand, Peter stretched out beside him, "Well... you do make an excellent point. This form of yours does have its own... beauty..." As he reached out a hand to touch, however, Stiles pushed himself off the rock and danced a few steps away. Peter growled and sat up, "Tease."

Stiles tossed a coy look over his shoulder, "Indubitably." Taking pity on Peter at the older man's disgruntled look, Stiles rolled his eyes and plopped himself down in his lap, "Oh, don't look like that. It doesn't suit you." When Peter obligingly painted a smile back on his face, Stiles smiled in return, brushed a gentle hand through his hair, "You know what does suit you, though?" At Peter's arched eyebrow, Stiles' smile gentled, "This body. The wolf. It suits you."

Peter rolled his eyes at that, "Well, if that isn't vanity..." He snorted out a laugh, "My own form isn't close enough to this for you? You only like me this way better because I remind you that much more of your offspring in this form."

A touch of melancholy alit in Stiles' eyes at that. He leaned close to press a gentle kiss to Peter's forehead. When he leaned back he said, "Maybe you're right. Maybe you do." He sighed, shifted off of Peter's lap and stretched. His shirt lifted, exposed a line of flesh at his waist, and Peter couldn't help but stare at the fine latticework of scars that were exposed - they looked enough like burns to send a small shiver down his spine. Catching the look, Stiles waved a hand over the scars and they disappeared. At Peter's questioning look, Stiles shrugged, "You burned for a night. I've burned for eternity, it seems, dissolved slowly bit by bit by a snake's venom. The scars linger... sometimes they show through in spite of my best intentions."

Peter reached out, unable to help himself, to trace the line of the now-invisible scars. Stiles arched into the touch, bent over the other man with a soft sigh as Peter's hands slid under his shirt. Peter said softly, "Forget what I said earlier. You may appear humble... but you are beautiful."

Stiles slowly straightened, stepped away. As he did, a smile stretched over his lips... and it wasn't a kind smile. He said simply, "Yes, I am - like the mistletoe... and just as dangerous." As Stiles turned to walk back to his Jeep, he paused, turned to give Peter one last considering look, "You were right. I am bored... and perhaps a little lonely. I don't intend to remain either. Stick close enough and you may stay dry." Then with a soft smirk, he bowed his head and was gone.

It was barely a whisper on the wind, but Peter could have sworn he heard the boy's voice float back to him after his departure, "Coyotes... wolves... you could have at least tried to be a little more original... but I'm still glad you're here."

Peter laughed loud and hard at that, then tipped his head back to the night sky and howled out his joy to the moon. As his howl trailed off and he shifted to lope off into the woods, Peter thought, "Loki, my old friend... so am I."

Comments, questions, rutabagas? ^_^