Read on AO3 at: http://archiveofourown.org/works/4287423
For Steter Week day 7, Fluff/shmoop
It’s Stiles who comes back to their apartment one night stinking of alcohol and grinning hugely declaring: “Peter, werewolf boyfriend of mine. I am pregnant.”
Peter honestly pauses. Weird stuff happens in Beacon Hills, and what is he going to do if Stiles is actually pregnant? Never mind completely smashed.
Oh, never mind.
Except Stiles then carefully releases five kittens from under his jacket onto the floor. Tabby kittens. All different colours and Peter isn’t even sure how he managed that. Stripes mostly; orange, light grey, dark brown, charcoal, and one light brown marbled tabby.
“Stiles, no.” Peter says in a firm voice.
“Stiles, yes!” Stiles all but shouts, before collapsing onto the couch in giggles. Peter watches the kittens with narrowed eyes, but they don’t seem upset about Stiles abandoning them on the floor and simply claw their way up the couch to curl up with the human.
Peter only winces a little as he watched them.
Peter listens to all six heartbeats slow and breathing even out in sleep. He stands and snaps a picture, because Stiles with five kittens laying on him is too good to pass up. He leaves a glass of water and some Tylenol on the coffee table with a note for Stiles.
We are not keeping the kittens.
Peter wakes to the smell of coffee, eggs and bacon. It’s only when he walks into the kitchen that he realises those smells have been covering the smell of cat.
“Stiles,” he says in a warning tone.
Stiles just grins hugely at him, giving him a kiss on the check, handing him a mug of coffee, and a plate of bacon and eggs just the way he likes them.
“No.” Peter says firmly.
“Yes,” Stiles counters easily, leaning down to scratch one of the kittens (grey), and give each of them a bit of bacon. The kittens purr happily.
Peter flashes his eyes when they look at him. He turns to go sit down. He’ll deal with it after he eats.
“So, this is Stacy” pointing at the dark brown kitten, “Narnia” the marbled kitten, “Sparta” the charcoal kitten, “Winter” the grey kitten and “Oliver” the orange kitten Stiles declares proudly.
“Why did you name them?” Peter groans.
“Because they are our children Peter, love them,” Stiles scolds, happily petting Narnia.
“What kinds of names are they anyway?” Peter sighs, flashing eyes and fangs at Sparta, who simply narrowed his eyes.
“Brilliant ones,” Stiles grins, pointing at the kitten that’s padding over to him, “Look, Winter is coming.”
“Oh dear lord,” Peter sighs.
Peter stares at his new photo file. Surely he hadn’t taken that many. He glances over at Stiles, happily playing with the new laser pointer he’d bought right after exclaiming; “For Narnia!”
The five kittens chase the spot eagerly, making Stiles giggle.
Peter snaps a picture before he can talk himself out of it.
“I’m going out,” Stiles calls from the doorway, “Look after the children.”
“They are not our children.” Peter sighs, keeping his eyes on his book. A few moments later Peter hears the first little mew. Oliver looks up at him with large eyes, Peter frowns.
“Go away I’m reading.” he commands. Oliver blinks up as him before jumping up into his lap. “I’m not petting you.”
Stiles comes home to Peter playing with the laser pointer, all five kittens tumbling over each other to chase the little spot of light. He snaps a picture before the werewolf can stop him.
Stiles comes home with catnip one day. He gives each kitten a little bit before offering a sprig of something to Peter. It looks and smells enough like wolfs bane that, if it were anyone but Stiles offering it, Peter would have ripped their throat out. As it is he just stares at it suspiciously.
“It’ll help you relax,” Stiles informs him with a fond smile.
“That’s not really comforting,” Peter murmurs, but he accepts the sprig. He knows Stiles would never actually hurt him.
Next thing he knows his laying on the floor with five stoned kitten. He’s staring into Stacy’s eyes, and Oliver is sitting on his chest like he owns it.
“Your mom does have it going on,” he informs Stacy seriously, “It’s a dumb song, but he really does.”
“Yes,” Stacy agrees. Peter narrows his eyes.
“You’re not supposed to talk,” he accuses.
“Yes.” Stacy says again.
“Is that all you can say?”
“Would you rather we discuss quantum physics?” Narnia asks as she attempts to walk over to him. She ends up laying on her side halfway.
“You’ve been spending too much time with Lydia,” Peter mumbles, “I forbid you to see her anymore.”
“You’re not our mom,” Winter informs him with a hiss.
“I am the alpha,” Peter hisses back.
“Not our alpha.” Sparta replies, despite wrapping himself about Peter’s foot.
“I am your new God,” Oliver whispers.
“Yes.” Stacy agrees.
Stiles comes back a little while later to find Peter and the kittens sleeping curled together on the floor. He snaps a picture and quickly makes several copies so Peter can’t delete it.
“You drugged me.” Peter grumbles into his coffee.
“Yes, and you finally bonded with the kittens,” Stiles smiles in reply, “It wasn’t too bad; I made sure none of the pack would come over, and that you wouldn’t leave the house.”
“It was manipulative and insensitive.” Peter mumbled. Oliver jumps up onto his lap and Peter begins to pet him absently. Stiles’ smile widens.
“But that’s why you love me,” he says, giving Peter a kiss on the cheek, “I promise to warn you next time I give you werewolf nip, ok?”
“This doesn’t mean I like them.”
“You love them,” Stiles laughs, running his hand through Peter’s hair as he passes.
“Sadly.” Peter sighs, looking down at the orange cat in his lap. Oliver looks up and meows at him. Peter rolls his eyes and returns to petting him.
Peter later finds that Stiles had set up a video camera. He never manages to get rid of all the copies, but the pack never brings it up, so he assumes Stiles is keeping it to himself. He wants to argue about it, but honestly, they know each other too well for him to bother complaining.
Besides, the kittens aren’t that bad.