An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
I'll give you a light (when your hands tremble)
Wineabout
Chapter 9
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Relationships: Chris Argent/Peter HaleChris Argent/Peter Hale/Stiles StilinskiPeter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Chris ArgentPeter HaleStiles Stilinski
Additional Tags: oooh boy, Show level violence, Strong Language, Character Death, prior to start of fic though, street kid Stiles, discussion of sex work, Hunter team Peter and Chris, stiles is 19, discussion of dub-con, Stiles chooses his work but is in a vulnerable position, Peter kills people, General mental heatlh warning because these men are all pretty hecked up, Please let me know if I need to tag something I'm new to this, slow build, Discussion of Gun Violence, Guns, because hunters have guns: both supernatural and non, Canon-Typical Violence, bed sharing, Panic Attacks
He couldn’t pinpoint when they’d taken to living like drifters. They both owned property. They both had more money than they needed. Just seemed like the need to return home stopped itching after the second time they'd circled back to Beacon Hills. There was nothing left there anyways, just ash and lies and more blood soaked into his own backyard than Chris wanted to think about.
[I didn't realize this was a threesome I wanted in my life until this moment bless your perfect kinky heart you little angel]
Why is this my life has not been a question which Stiles has asked himself in quite some time. Lately, his days fall more into the category of how. But as a recently turned eighteen year old boy still wrapping up his high school career, who currently enjoys lazy Saturday mornings curled up in soft sheets around two ridiculously attractive and attentive boyfriends, Stiles is not one to question how he came to be there when he could snuggle into Chris Argent, or lazily kiss Peter Hale awake while the three of them debate what to make for breakfast.
Stiles likes to delay getting out of bed for as long as possible. Usually, the fight is contained to the kitchen, and can be ended rather pleasantly if the boy plays his cards right, and Stiles is actually very good at cards.
But he doubts kissing one and teasing the other into distraction will work in the bread and coffee aisle of the only grocery store in Beacon Hills. He doesn't know when exactly Chris became an addition to their relationship. but since then the trio are actually able to be in public together. No one is mental enough to guess the truth that Stiles is in fact in a loving polyamorous relationship with two older men.
It's not that they fight in public often, they don't. But until now, Stiles has avoided the issue by simply insuring that they forget this one simple and stupid item every item, and picking it up on the way over from school.
Why did Chris have to wear his tightest jeans today, god fucking why. Stiles was so busy staring at his perfectly toned ass that he never saw the train wreck coming until it was already upon him.
The shouting has attracted the attention of over half the store, and for the first time since they started this relationship, Stiles actually feels like he doesn't exist at all.
"I will not," Peter snarls, "drink that filth every morning. I did not crawl out of the ground to suffer my first waking hours with disgusting coffee."
"It is not disgusting," Chris huffs, and Stiles swears his hair's growing grayer by the minute. (Most people think the salt and pepper is his age, Stiles knows for a fact that it's the result of stress and hardship.) "it's more effective."
Chris holds on to the red Folger's bucket of Breakfast Blend like it's his favorite crossbow, and Peter's arms are crossed over his broad chest to pull down the v-neck and show off the smattering of chest hair and muscle's that gets the both of them going as if all cards will suddenly be pulled off the table. He's blocking the path to the cart, where currently sits a similar bucket of Black Silk.
This has been going on for a hair pulling and teeth grinding fifteen minutes. That no one who Stiles actually knows by name has yet to walk by is a fucking miracle, and one he knows is not going to last.
Stiles takes a deep breath, and trades the bucket of coffee in the cart for a small bag of fair trade espresso beans, plucks the Breakfast Blend from the hunter's warm and worn hands, and places both items in the cart. Both eyes are on him, Chris's softer ones pinched with worry but secretly pleased, Peter's intense blues looking positively murderous.
"You're both impossible idiots. Chris, you have a stove stop espresso maker. I will use that to make espresso for our favorite coffee snob, you can add that to a cup of regular coffee. It will taste exactly the same, and we won't need to make a second pot to make everyone happy. Hell, you'll probably like it better."
Chris looks at Peter with a smile and a shrug, and Peter huffs out a breath that says it all. Stiles is shaking his head in utter dismay.
"Seriously, when the hell did I become the voice of reason?" he sighs, shoving a hand through the hair that never really dried right since the post-shower fun has now given him permanent I Just Had Sex hair till he washes it again.
Peter grins, admiring the finely roasted and hand selected coffee Stiles has selected for him. He looks both ways down the aisle with furtive glances, before tangling his fingers in the hair on the back of his neck, and pulling the boy in to place a swift kiss on his forehead.
"You're the perfect balance between us Stiles. This relationship wouldn't work if you weren't."
Stiles takes up the pushing of the cart again so Peter and Chris can slip their hands in each others back pockets. He's smiling from ear to ear, even as he checks the grocery list one last time.
It's never exactly easy, but it's exactly what they need.
