Hey there ! I'm pretty much writing this fic for my own sanity but by all means feel free to read it! I think its hilarious but then I've got Peter Hale living in my head...so I'm going to assume my judgement is probably minutely compromised. There is absolutely no hardcore scenes in the first 10 chapters of that I can assure you! But it will be coming! heh heh heh * innuendo*. Anywho as always the characters are not mine. Their ridiculous banter and interactions however are. Leave me some love..or hate if you're so inclined :P. X.

Stiles was lounging on his stomach with Deadpool ripping the guts out of his enemy and wearing the intestines as some sort of sick boa 2 inches from his face when the tell-tale skittering on tile sounded from out his window. He smirks to himself as he licks his thumb and turns the page with a smug sort of satisfaction. Ever since Scott had been bitten that sound was one that he was most attuned to. Well that and the creak of the middle stair which announced his father; who refused to master the art of knocking. That had been a particularly awkward encounter and one that Stiles was not keen to relive. Ha, these wolves think they're so freaking smart. He continues lounging, the picture of nonchalance as he hears his window slowly lift.

He makes pretence of heaving a pronounced long suffering sigh. "We've talked about this whole knocking thing remember, what if I'd been indecent? Window etiquette's totally gone to hell this century."

He grins pre-emptively, expecting one of Derek's barked responses that consist mainly of 'Shut up Stiles' and 'wah wah wah this is why I need you to harbour my hairy –but sexy- werewolf ass now.' They were so witty. Naturally then the dark and silky smooth retort was enough to plant Stiles face first on his floor as he yelped and flailed himself right off his bed .

"Ooh well I don't know what sort of sordid affair you have with my nephew but I would've thought indecency was kind of the point."

"Zombie wolf?!" Stiles chokes out as he rolls over and scrambles backwards.

"Please, I prefer messiah wolf, the least you could do when you insult me is make it original. I mean are the claws and murder not incentive enough?"

"Hey now! It's an endearing nickname! It's positively cuddly really."

Peter stifles a laugh and stalks over to where Stiles is huddled by his bed still clutching his chest from panic.

"First you're worried about me catching you indecent," Peter says his eyes lingering over Stiles body, flashing with sardonic amusement "and now I'm positively cuddly?"

Stiles gapes stupidly for a moment. How is he supposed to form a cohesive response when there's a psychotic- sexy- axe murdering- probably- creepy uncle wolf-sexy creepy uncle wolf-eyeing him like he's all kinds of edible. Stiles just about smacks himself in the head, repeatedly. Enough of your delusional commentary! You have failed me brain! Traitor. Come to think of it his body isn't exactly being a loyalist either.
He swallows and wipes a sweaty palm on his batman shirt.

"Fallacies, paraphrasing," he mutters under his breath. He looks back to Peter who is suddenly way too intimately close with a hand out to Stiles. He reaches out to take it.

"I'd love to hear what you know about phalluses." Peter declares, the words a velvety caress in Stiles ear. Naturally Stiles chokes, literally. He falls back to the floor flushing furiously. Peter withdraws his hand and laughs.

Looking indignant Stiles climbs to his feet. He swallows down a cheer at overcoming the constraints of his own flailing clumsiness. "What are you even doing here?" he asks.

Peter has in the meantime reclined back onto Stiles bed and is lying on his back checking his fingernails. He doesn't bother looking at Stiles as he states without enthusiasm. "Nephew dearest has deigned it in everyone's best interest to watch each other's backs, puppy alpha heartily agrees. And your back is so terribly pale and fragile." He looks to Stiles, grinning, to gage the young man's reaction. "He also felt it poignant to remind me that 'I have nothing better to do' and that 'I should do something useful for a change.' Six years as a amnesiac catatonic invalid doesn't do a whole lot for your events calendar it seems.' Peter says looking pensive but quickly turning it into a default smirk.

"I'm sure you've got a murder or triple homicide pencilled in there somewhere to look forward to." Stiles quips with mock enthusiasm, he continues "thanks for the update and all. But, usually wolf guard/babysitting duty is performed OUTSIDE my window totally covertly and without my knowledge at all." Stiles says mocking the wolves and their sneaky ineptitude. Puh-lease like Stiles wouldn't notice them; well founded paranoia, ADHD and Adderall can make a naturally curious person a deductive savant. He's practically Sherlock Holmes, sociopathy aside, obviously. He'd leave that to Peter. He points at his window to further drive his point across.
"Out!"

Peter leans back upon his elbows to look at Stiles. His gaze following the length of Stiles arm to where he was pointing decisively at the window. The wolf rolls his eyes and makes a phhhhh noise with his lips. Stiles puts a hand on his hip still pointing.
"Oh yeah, real mature. Come on, out. A teenage boy needs his privacy," he demands. Peter arches an eyebrow suggestively and Stiles fights the urge to face palm himself. He knew he should've gone with beauty sleep. He decides to just point again, Peter heaves a weary sigh in response. He makes a show of groaning as he gets up off the bed.

"Yeah, yeah you're old and decrepit we get it."

Peter looks wounded "I'm not old!" He protests sulking. He regains his composure as he moves past Stiles reaching to squeeze the back of the boys neck gently on the way out. Stiles hand slaps his wrist away forcefully as soon as he realises Peter's intentions. The older man is shocked and looks bemusedly at Stiles who pulls both of his hands in front of himself in a ridiculous martial arts gesture.
"Woah woah woah, no touchy buddy! Don't get any ideas; I'm down with the wolfy gestures all right. I am so not about to be dominated by you, ok. So just keep on walking out that window, and don't even think about mounting me." Oh god, did he really just say that. His mouth drops open in surprise, probably so he can ram a big fat foot in there. He recovers and tries to give a look of conviction still waving his karate hands.

Peter snorts in amusement shaking his head. He's halfway out the window when he turns back to Stiles still laughing "Really?", he asks "just really?" before he disappears. Stiles watches him leave lowering his karate hands," yeah that's what I thought." He makes his way over to his laptop on his desk swinging around once in his chair.

Stiles tended towards hyper vigilance especially at night time, probably something to do with the vast amounts of emotional and physical trauma, you know with the assorted messed up nightmares from the great beyond, sleep awakeness and all the gnarly Nogitsune enforced murder dreams, the constant threat of impending supernatural bullshit…yeah it's a long convoluted mess, welcome to Stiles' mind. Anyway he appreciates the wolves sticking around providing a sense of safety, he always feel better around pack, more secure and you know having a potential killing machine watching over you didn't hurt. They never talked about it and it was never specifically ordered or arranged but there was always just a pack member around, either skulking silent sentries or entering with excuses of a sleep over aaaand then there was Peter.
Because of his hyper vigilance Stiles couldn't for the life of him sleep without music otherwise he'd be up all night, twitching at the creaks in the house or overanalysing a gust of wind. Music is his saviour, whenever he's aware of his wolfy sentries he tries to customise playlists for them, it just makes it funnier that Peter will be aware it's for him. Stiles snickers as he cracks his knuckles setting to work. He smiles as he tucks himself into bed to the sounds of Wolf by Kingswood.
He hears a Derisive snort occasionally and a loud HA as Bad Moon Rising starts playing. He imagines he hears Peter singing along and drifts to sleep with a smile on his face.