laraF's nest

Készült a fullmoon_ficlet 194. kulcsszavára: Parenthood. >klikk ide<

Korhatár: 14

Tartalom: Egy (a legcsodásabb okból kifolyólag) hullafáradt játékbolt tulajdonos és egy etikátlanul szexi, szarkasztikus nagybácsi találkozik a már említett játékboltban.
Vagyis, variáció Peter és Stiles első találkozására, a hires "You must be Stiles" mondatot felhasználva.

AU (de nagyon), FLUFF, gyerkőcök mindenfelé.
Talán folytatás is érkezik hozzá. Amint lesz ihletem. És időm. XD




Stiles questioned his sanity all over again when Noah, Erica's and Boyd's evil little offspring started to climb a shelf full of Rubik Cubes. To open a toy-store of all things? Sure, his ADHD practically made him a big kid with shorter attention span then most his customers' and he absolutely loved them but... He rushed to the boy's side and carried him to the furthest beanbag. Noah giggled unapologetically and gladly accepted the box of apple juice he longed for since stepping into Stiles's Playground - not just for kids.

"Are you staisfied now, tyrant?" Stiles tiredly plopped down into a purple bean bag. Noah flashed a slightly toothless smile at him. Stiles snorted. "Yeah, yeah, drink up Mama Stilinski's awesome juice, you scary pirate."

It was eleven o'clock in the morning and there was no one in the shop besides them. Noah already managed to climb onto every available surface be it horizontal or vertical, tried to chew through a couple Iron Man and Hulk figurines and once even buried himself in Kung-fu Panda plushies. Stiles had had no idea where did he disappear but after turning the shop upside down and gulping down a mild panic attack he found the boy sleeping sweetly drooling on a stuffed Shifu. That blessed peace hadn't lasted for long and in no more than ten minutes Stiles was covered in green and purple bruises on impossible places from the books and board games that threatened to knock the recklessly exploring Noah unconscious. Now he almost regretted being a living umbrella. God knew, the kid rarely got tired. Stiles found a whole new kind of respect toward his parents and scribbled down more atom-kid-enduring safety ideas on a pink post-it block with an orange crayon.

Let's face it – he was a desperately single gay guy freshly out of uni who had awesome (and mostly married or engaged) friends full of way too active empathy. Scott and Kira tended to talk about him to each and every minimally decent bloke they knew (and Stiles really didn't want another overly enthusiastic club dancer trailing after him all the time, thank you very much. He owned a toy-store, for God sakes! The sight of Jake's leopard-patterned leather trousers scarred even his experienced visual memory, not to mention the children’s!). Allison and Isaac weren't much better but at least they didn't give out his phone number to anybody like Erica did. That woman's going to be the death of him, Stiles was sure. Lydia picked up the habit of buying him ridiculously expensive clothes and never stopped with the "come, party with me, Stiles baby. I'm going to catch a perfect specimen for you effortlessly." It was truly ironic that Jackson was the most bearable out of all of them – he simply grimaced in uncharacteristic sympathy and left him alone. Weird but certainly not unwelcomed.

He didn't think he had irrational expectations from the partner – he only wanted an intelligent, witty and preferably sarcastic man with a hard exterior but a soft spot for children and a heart full of love. Okay, maybe he was a bit unrealistic.





And that was the reason why his brain decided to shut down when the man of his wildest dreams stepped into his shop. He just knew it, felt it in his bones. The man was perfect. A little girl sat on his broad shoulders, hugging the man's thick neck. A dark-haired boy with impressive eyebrows clutched his (ringless) right hand and another girl was poking him on his free side, her serious expression completely ruined buy her adorable ponytails and princess t-shirt. By then Stiles miraculously got Noah to calm down. He was sleeping peacefully after a generous lunch made up of apple sauce. Apples – the key to his heart, that lovely kid. He was sprawled all over Stiles, who mimicked the two-year old's position on his favorite bean bag. The man didn't notice him at first which he was extremely thankful for. He may have ogled the man's well-defined muscles and delicious stubble and holy shit those blue eyes like a lovesick puppy.

"... and he called Der-bear a coward and then I told him to shut up because I'm the only one, who can call him that but he came closer and grabbed Der-bear and wanted to hurt him."

"Did you kick him?" the man asked and Stiles melted from that silky voice. The man wore a heart-stopping half-smirk. He quirked an eyebrow while exuding an infuriatingly calm but still mischievous aura. Stiled squealed inside.

"On the crotch, just like you told me, Uncle Peter!" the little girl exclaimed enthusiastically then snatched her brother's arm and went to explore the shop. Stiles's heart skipped a beat after the tell-tale word uncle and couldn't hide his incredulous laugh. The man's – Peter's – attention zeroed in on him immediately. Stiles's skin started to tingle in a very pleasant way.

Peter's answering smile was sinful.

"You must be Stiles."