Peter would swear up and down pack bonding nights were Derek trying to kill him… again. But this time slowly and far more painful. Derek was lucky on these nights, sitting happily in his villainy armchair. He wasn't sandwiched between stiles, who had a tendency to sprawl across him, and a middle aged hunter whose fingers keep dancing along the length of a knife on his thigh. His really nice, muscular thigh. Peter continued glaring at his insufferably smug nephew.

The worst thing wasn't the fact that he had stiles gripping his arm like someone was going to steal his teddy bear or the fact that Chris was muttering about wanting to just get knocked out, something that had Peter wholeheartedly agreeing with him. The worst thing was the really bad movie choice.

Now Peter had nothing against Pride and Prejudice, the book was articulate and most adaptions were brilliantly executed. It's just that it's not exactly entertaining. The fact that stiles, the most hyperactive and talkative teenager to ever exist, was asleep said a lot. Especially considering they were only 20 minutes through.

Peter wasn't sure why he even came. Actually, that's a lie, Derek used that face where he made you feel like you just kicked a puppy. But either way, he was definitely regretting it.

The minutes dragged on and on then all of a sudden he felt a second weight fall against him. The audacity! Argent had fell asleep, hand never leaving the knife attached to that solid, strong thigh. Peter closed his eyes and took a deep breath, wanting nothing more than to end his nephew there and then. But that was a mistake.

All of his senses were assaulted by the man and the boy at his sides. The feel of Chris' surprisingly soft curls against his jaw, the sound of Stiles' quiet snoring and the overwhelming scent of them both mingling together. If Peter took an even deeper breath, then it was no one's business but his own.

Perhaps ending his nephew's life could wait for a few more minutes. He could close his eyes, just for a little. His arms sank slowly but surely down around the shoulders of stiles and Chris, the latter's tensing for the briefest of seconds, and his head dropping back. He was merely resting his eyes, he would later use as an excuse, it meant nothing that he pulled them both closer. Nothing at all that his breathing slowed to the same pace as the hunter's.

His mind quietened as he slipped into a peaceful slumber, the deep, knowing chuckle of his nephew going unnoticed.