moonlettuce | Fic: Visions of Sugar Plums, Teen Wolf, Chris Argent / Peter Hale

Title: Visions of Sugar Plums
Author: Claire
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing(s): Chris Argent / Peter Hale, Derek Hale / Stiles Stilinski implied
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,077
Summary: In which Peter wears his Secret Santa present and Chris more than approves
Additional Notes: Written for the Trope Bingo square 'HolidayFic'. Because nothing says Christmas like Peter Hale in a onesie and Chris Argent being a furry.

Title taken from A Visit from St. Nicholas by Clement Clarke Moore.

Not beta'ed, so all mistakes mine. (I couldn't be mean enough to ask Temaris to beta this one on Christmas Eve.)

Originally about half the size and tweeted towards Emony, so it's technically all her fault ::grin::

Visions of Sugar Plums

Peter's looking at the thing in his hands, grey and fuzzy, and he knows it's Stiles' fault, he just knows it. He knows it because he's pretty sure no one else in the pack would have looked at this in a store and had his name be the first one that came to mind.

He glances up to see Derek smirking at him and not even trying to hide it.

"We all agreed, Peter," Derek says, as though Peter needs reminding. As though he'd forgotten that they'd all agreed to wear whatever their secret santa got them for Christmas. (Even though he hadn't been there at the time, and it was more a case of Stiles and Erica deciding and Derek decreeing from on high like the utterly whipped little Alpha that he is.)

At least Derek got away with nothing more than a red flashing ball on his chest, thanks to the t-shirt with a light up Rudolph on it, because, unlike Stiles, Scott appears to not be a sadistic bastard. Part of Peter thinks he'd be impressed, if he wasn't so disgusted at the thing he's holding.

"It's a wolf onesie!" Stiles grins. "I saw it and thought of you."

Peter just looks at him. "You saw it, and thought of me? I'm honoured." Although, for honoured, you could read disgusted, and repulsed, and at least a little terrified by the way Stiles' mind obviously works.

If there was any way Peter thought he could get away with accidentally ripping the thing to shreds and setting it alight, he'd do it. But the look in Derek's eyes promises vast retribution if Stiles' enthusiasm is dampened by the, dear god, he can't even think the word, meeting a sudden, tragic and irreversible end.

Which is why, two hours later, he finds himself answering the door and glaring at the look of surprise Allison is giving him.

"Peter, nice outfit." The words are careful, deliberate, and Peter doesn't need to be a wolf to hear the laughter she's holding in.

"Stiles," he says in reply, eyes narrowing at Allison's knowing nod. "So, tell me," he asks, "just how many of you knew I was going to end up with... this." He motions to himself and the fuzzy wolf costume he's carrying off with, if he does say so himself, perfect poise and aplomb.

"Peter, let them in!" Any reply Allison might have given is cut off by the shout from Derek.

Sighing softly, he steps back, motioning them inside. "Derek's casa es su casa," he tells them, looking at Allison as she rests a hand on his arm as she passes him.

"If it makes you feel better, I think you look adorable."

Wonderful. A teenage girl thinks he looks adorable. Just what his ego needs right now.

Trying not to roll his eyes, he glances back to the door. "Are you coming, Christopher, or are you planning on standing out there all day?" Chris' eyes darken slightly at Peter's words, and the scent of... wait... what? "Seriously?"

Chris doesn't answer as his hand reaches out to wrap around Peter's wrist, tugging him until they're both outside the door.

Bracketing Peter against the wall, his hands on either side of Peter's head, Chris leans forward, nipping sharply at Peter's ear. "We're going to go in there and have Christmas dinner with the rest of the pack." Chris' voice is steady, too steady, and Peter can't help but grin at the utter focused control Chris is giving off, especially as it's in direct opposition to the hardness he can feel pressing against him, even through the layers of denim and fuzz between them.

Chris doesn't react to the smile on Peter's face, just moves his hands closer, so Peter can't even turn his head, can't do anything but watch as Chris leans forward. "And then you're coming back to mine, in that, and I am going to take. you. apart." The soft breath carries the words to Peter's ears, and Peter knows all he needs to do is move forward a bare inch and he'll be able to capture Chris' lips with his own, but Chris pulls back slightly before Peter has the chance.

"I'm going to put you on the bed, Peter." One of Chris' hands moves to run over the fuzz covering Peter's stomach, dipping down to where Peter is straining behind the fabric. Chris shifts slightly, his leg pressing between Peter's thighs, and Peter can't help but spread his legs to accommodate him.

And Chris just carries on, like he doesn't have Peter all but ready to drop to his knees, like he can't do anything but just keep talking. "Then I'm going to take you. I'm going to take you harder than you've ever been taken before. And you'll beg me, Peter. You'll beg me to break you open." Peter swallows the whimper that wells in his throat, clenching his fists to stop him from humping Chris' leg right there.

Chris smirks as he moves even closer, like he knows exactly what Peter is thinking, exactly what his voice is doing, as his lips almost brush Peter's cheek. "I'm gonna make you howl for me, Peter Hale, if it's the last thing I do."

"Oh god, some of us can hear you, you know! You've just traumatised Scott for life!" Derek's yell is overlaid by Stiles demanding to know what the wolves could hear. Ignoring the conversation going on in the house, Peter stares at Chris, stares at the soft smirk on Chris' lips and the slight flush to his skin that tells Peter that Chris is just as affected as Peter is.

Closing his eyes, Peter smacks his head back against the wall, willing his erection to go down, because there's no way he's sitting through dinner while he's hard enough to hammer nails. It doesn't matter that every single wolf in there will have heard exactly what Chris said, that they'll be able to smell exactly what Peter's reaction to it was.

It doesn't matter because all he has to do is get through dinner. Opening his eyes, he leans forward, quickly catching Chris' lower lip between his teeth before sliding the bite gently into a brief kiss. "You'll have to do a lot of work to make me howl, Argent."

Chris just smiles and meets Peter's gaze.

Damn it, looks like he'll have to say thank you to Stiles, after all.