Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.
A/N: This is not Steter. This is just two guys having a laugh and there is nothing more than that. However, if you want to interpret it as Steter, than feel free. This is the first installment in a series entitled In Which Life Is A Musical
Stiles didn't actually hate Peter, contrary to popular belief. Sure he had is psychopathic tendencies but as the resident creeper wolf liked to say 'We're all works in progress.' Peter's particular brand of snark went well with Stiles' sarcasm and the two were also both highly intelligent, and loved to debate the most random of subjects.
So when the pack all went out hunting the deadly dangerous creature of the week, leaving Stiles, the poor defenceless human, behind with Peter, he wasn't too pissed off. Peter was still 'recovering' from coming back from the dead. This excuse popped up all the time, including when Peter was asked to get coffee from the nearby Starbucks, help Derek fix up the loft and once, when he asked Isaac to get his laptop from upstairs. The others didn't argue in this case because none of them felt particularly comfortable with Peter at their back.
The two of them easily set into a comfortable silence. Peter sat with one arm thrown along the couch, How to Kill a Mockingbird held in his hand while his eyes skimmed quickly over the words. Stiles lay outstretched on the floor, laptop open next to him playing music while he worked on his Economics paper.
The music change was so subtle; Peter almost missed it, except for the small gasp Stiles made. Looking up, Peter saw his mouth curl up into the grin that meant that Stiles Stilinski was up to something. Peter recognized the song very well. Lydia often played similar music around the loft when she was over. Stiles began humming softly at the start of the song, before jumping in where the tempo changed, his body rocking side to side with the music.
Let me introduce you to my party people, in the club...
I'm loose (loose)
And everybody knows I get off the train
Baby it's the truth
I'm like inception I play with your brain
So I don't sleep I snooze
I don't play no games so don't get it confused no
Cos you will lose yeah
Now pump it up, and back it up like a Tonka truck. Dale!
Peter let out a snort of laughter at the teenager. Going slightly pink, Stiles shut his mouth and ducked his head. Realising he actually liked it, Peter decided the only way to fix it was to make Stiles feel less self-conscious about singing along. Sighing, he tossed his book onto the couch and leaned forward.
If you go hard you gotta get on the floor
If you're a party freak then step on the floor
If you're an animal then tear up the floor
Break a sweat on the floor
Yeah we work on the floor
Stiles' head shot up again and he grinned like a loon. Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine Peter Hale singing along to J. Lo. Rolling over onto his back and sitting up, he jumped in.
Don't stop, keep it moving. Put your drinks up!
Pick your body up and drop it on the floor
Let the rhythm change your world on the floor
You know we're running shit tonight on the floor
Peter: Brazil Stiles: Morocco
London to Ibiza
Straight to LA, New York
Vegas to Africa Stiles: (Dale!)
Stiles threw caution to the wind and leapt up to dance. Peter could only gaze in shock. Normally a mass of flailing limbs, Stiles was actually quite a graceful dancer. Swaying his hips to the beat, he continued singing along, paying no attention to Peter's staring.
Dance the night away
Live your life, and stay young on the floor.
Dance the night away
Grab somebody and drink a little more.
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Stiles got an evil little glimmer in his eyes and before Peter knew it, he was being yanked to his feet. Of course, he could have resisted but he didn't want to ruin the poor kid's fun. Not to mention, Peter was not a bad dancer himself. Grinning, he wrapped Stiles' arms up around his neck and set his hands on his waist, rocking his hips to the music.
I know you got it clap your hands on the floor
And keep on rocking, rock it up on the floor
If you're a criminal kill it on the floor
Steal it quick on the floor, on the floor
Don't stop, keep it moving. Put your drinks up!
There was nothing sexual about it. Well, maybe a small bit, but what he meant was that there were no sexual feelings between himself and Stiles. He liked the boy. Stiles actually made an effort to include him in a pack that mostly wanted him to die again and stay dead. And the kid was bright, could match Peter word for word. He liked a challenge. But this, this was just two… friends messing around. Letting go. It was Stiles acting like the kid he rarely got to be surrounded by all this supernatural crap that Beacon Hills threw at him.
It's getting ill it's getting sick on the floor
We never quit, we never rest on the floor
If I ain't wrong we gonna die on the floor
Brazil, Morocco
London to Ibiza
Straight to LA, New York
Vegas to Africa (Dale!)
Stiles spun his body so his back was to Peter. He pulled Peter's hands back to his waist while he reached his own arms up over his head to link behind Peter's neck, drawing him closer. There was no awkwardness, no tension while the two sang and danced to their hearts content.
Dance the night away
Live your life, and stay young on the floor...
Dance the night way
Grab somebody and drink a little more...
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Stiles: Aaa la la la la, lalalalalala la laaaa!
Peter: Tonight we gon' be it on the floor
Idly, Peter wondered why this young man didn't have a girlfriend or boyfriend. Since the whole business with turning Scott began, Stiles had developed in his own way. His hair had grown, his body had started to fill out, and though he was still lanky, he now had a toned body rather than a skinny one.
Perhaps it was because Scott was now the popular athletic one. People rarely saw Stiles as anything more than Scott's friend. How unfortunate. Also, there was that business where he was hung up on Miss Lydia Martin, who had no intention of leaving Jackson. Peter's mouth curled upward into a smirk as Stiles launched into a rap that Peter had no intention of attempting. He spoke flawlessly, in perfect time to the beat.
That badonka donk is like a trunk full of bass on an old school Chevy
Seven tray donkey donk
All I need is some vodka, some chonkey coke
And watch it she gon' get donkey konged
Baby if you're ready for things to get heavy
I get on the floor and act a fool if you let me
Don't believe me just bet me
My name ain't Keith but I see why you sweat me
L.A. Miami, New York
Say no more get on the floor, get on the floor
The two were so engrossed in their dancing that they didn't even notice Isaac and Derek pull open the door to the loft. They both stood in the doorway, stunned, as STILES ground his hips into PETER, and PETER who just chuckled and nuzzled STILES' shoulder. Derek growled low while Isaac's jaw dropped. Still, both men were absorbed in what they were doing.
Dance the night away
Live your life, and stay young on the floor.
Dance the night away
Grab somebody and drink a little more.
'So, Pizza or Chin- what the HELL!?' Stiles and Peter both jumped, but made no move to pull away as Scott burst onto the scene. Lydia and Allison trailed up behind them, with Jackson bringing up the rear. Jackson recoiled in horror at the sight while Allison's hands itched for her collapsible crossbow. Lydia just burst out laughing. When all eyes turned to question her sanity, she shrugged her shoulders. 'It could have been worse. It could have been Hips Don't Lie.'
I bet Lydia would ship Steter. She seems like a Steter shipper.