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Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Hanging On by a Single Bond || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: Hanging On by a Single Bond – Steter Secret Santa Exchange 2024

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, the Hale Pack Moves to London, Pack Alpha Peter, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, Spark Stiles, post-Nogitsune, hurt/comfort, fluff, f/f, m/f

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Malia/Kira

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Noah Stilinski, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura

Summary: Stiles' way of dealing with his own pain and grief had always been to instead take care of others. After Gerard, the Hale Pack becomes his pet-project. That includes self-proclaimed lone wolf Peter. Then things get messy. The Hale Pack seemingly ends when Derek gives up the Alpha spark, the McCall Pack forms, Stiles gets possessed. And, confusingly enough, Peter takes care of him.

Hanging On by a Single Bond

Steter Secret Santa Exchange 2024

Chapter 1: One Single Bond

Peter had nothing left in this world but his fascinating, clever boy.

He'd survived the fire, survived the coma, killed his own niece (traitor, bad Alpha who had abandoned him, abandoned a pack-mate in need), cared for nothing but vengeance and left carnage and bodies in his wake. He hadn't cared for anything, not even his own safety. If he'd get put down at the end of it, killed by the Argents or someone else, it wouldn't matter, as long as he got to finish the job. He just needed to kill Kate Argent and everyone else involved in the fire first.

And then there was this boy. This clever, brilliant boy, who'd figured out who was behind the Hale Fire when nobody else, none of the cops, had figured it out. The boy who'd yelled at the monstrous Alpha in the school, braver than a breakable human had any right to be. The first thing to fascinate him since the fire, the first distraction from his vengeance. When he stood opposite Stiles in the hospital and the boy figured it out, figured out that Peter was the Alpha, Peter knew he needed to have this boy in his pack. For the first time, Peter found himself wanting something aside from his vengeance. Even the pack – convincing Derek, biting Scott (the greatest mistake of Peter's life), those weren't things he wanted, he needed the strength that the pack-bonds would give him. But Stiles? Stiles was not needed necessarily, but he was wanted.

With that one snarky boy, the plan changed. Peter's life was no longer disposable, it no longer didn't matter what happened to him after he got his revenge. He wanted a pack, a real pack, and he wanted to build it around himself and his clever boy. The boy who had taught a newly bitten wolf how to control himself, taught him about anchors, a boy who could navigate the supernatural world with instincts that spoke of someone who was beyond human himself. That was when the Banshee became interesting to Peter, because she was a means to guarantee he'd be able to escape whatever punishment the Argents would rain down on him for inevitably killing Kate.

When he took his boy, after giving the Banshee the bite that'd activate her powers, the plan only further cemented itself in Peter's mind. Snarky little thing, even when his pulse gave away how afraid he was, he still talked back at Peter and quipped. Peter offered Stiles the bite and though it would have been so easy to force it on the boy when he said no, Peter didn't. He wanted the boy to willingly join his pack. If that'd take longer, if he'd have to work for it? Stiles would be worth it.

Peter was very grateful to his own foresight in regards to the Banshee, the moment Stiles threw the Molotov cocktail. Not the one he'd expected deadly vengeance from. He was also grateful that he hadn't tried to force the bite onto his boy, because Stiles would have used his own claws to tear out Peter's throat. Truly, a ruthless little thing, holding Peter's gaze as he set him on fire, which was all the more vindictive of him. Part of Peter appreciated the painful irony of his execution, impressed and in awe at how wicked his boy was, how much darkness was lurking in his heart.

/break\

By the time the lovely Miss Martin helped Peter back to the land of the living, Derek had gathered a sad excuse for a pack. Three betas, of whom two literally ran away from him the day Peter got back to the living. Scott betrayed Derek in a truly remarkably devious manner (and Peter might have been impressed by it, had Scott not immediately ruined it by trailing the Argent girl like a love-sick puppy). Lydia and Jackson were kissing like the whole world had faded from existence, Derek and his beta sulked off together. Until the only people left in the warehouse were Peter and Stiles.

"I may not have all that much experience with murder, but it is somewhat unsatisfying to see it not stick," Stiles' voice was flat as he stared at Peter. "Why are you alive."

A wicked smile spread over Peter's lips. "I came back to see what you'd do next, after setting the survivor of a devastating fire on fire. Darling, your ruthlessness is positively intriguing."

"You are… so weird," Stiles blinked repeatedly. "Also creepy. Stop smiling like that, I killed you."

"Helped," Peter corrected. "You helped kill me. You didn't deliver the final blow."

"No, your nephew did that," Stiles snorted sardonically. "Your family is seriously fucked up."

Peter couldn't argue with that. Instead, he let his eyes drag over Stiles' body, taking in all the injuries. The visible ones – bruised and bloodied side of his face, split lip – but also the more subtle ones – the way Stiles favored one side over the other, breathed shallow and held his side. The scent of pain and loneliness was accompanied with a note of Argent.

"Who," Peter asked, voice low and dangerous. "Do we tear apart for all of this?"

He ran a gentle hand down the bruised side of Stiles' face, causing the boy to scrunch up his nose in a cute way. "Stop it, bad touch wolf. And 'we' aren't tearing anybody apart."

"Fine," Peter smiled indulgently. "I'll sit by and watch you work, then. See what it's like when you actually finish the job yourself, mh? I'm sure it will be glorious."

Stiles climbed into his Jeep, staring at Peter warily. "Why are you still here. Go follow your pack."

"Not my pack, not my problem," Peter shrugged carelessly and climbed into the passenger seat. "Like I told you, I came back to see what you'll do next. You're interesting, Stiles. The first interesting thing I encountered since the fire and I do want to see what's next for you."

"...So you're not here to kill me for helping murder you?" Stiles asked, mildly surprised.

"Oh, no," Peter shrugged, making a dismissive hand-gesture. "You killed me to avenge your pack, that's a motivation I can respect, darling. You don't have to fear anything from me."

He flashed a smile with too many teeth and his electric-blue beta eyes at the boy. Stiles made a soft noise, tilting his head. His full focus was on Peter now, more intense than before. No longer guarded to watch what Peter would do but rather trying to dissect him. Being the center of that laser-like focus was thrilling and Peter hoped he'd stay interesting enough to keep it.

"Your eyes are blue," Stiles noted, sucking his lower lip into his mouth to chew on. "Is that a genetic thing? You and Derek are the only ones with blue eyes, so… Hale trait? Or is it because you're both born wolves? Scott, Isaac, Boyd and Erica have golden eyes and are bitten."

Mh, Peter loved that quick mind. Stiles had dismissed his earlier worries when he'd come to the conclusion that Peter wasn't currently a threat and instead, his mind had latched onto a new mystery to solve. A pleased smile spread over Peter's lips as he leaned back and relaxed.

"Neither," Peter chuckled, flashing his eyes deliberately once more.

For a long moment, Stiles stared at him, before frowning. "Well, are you going to tell me?"

"Mh," Peter tilted his head thoughtfully. "No. I wouldn't want you to grow bored with me too quickly, darling. I have to keep some mysteries. Now, will you tell me where we're driving? Are you going to dispose of the one who did this to you…?"

Stiles started the Jeep, eyebrows furrowed deep as he shook his head. "I'll have to prioritize. Gerard is currently poisoned and on his way to a slow, cruel death anyway. I have more pressing matters than to go after a dying man. Do you want me to like drop you off somewhere?"

Stiles raised both eyebrows at him and gave him a very incredulous look to drive home how ridiculous he found Peter. It delighted the wolf. Not even a hint of fear. All alone in a car with a formerly insane predator and killer and the boy complained to him. So much spirit.

"No, I'm quite fine tagging along with you, I have no other plans," Peter said dismissively.

For a second, Stiles pinned him with a glare before he drove off. "Okay, fine. If you insist on being a nuisance, you're going to help me. Gerard didn't just have me, he had Boyd and Erica too. When they dragged me out of the basement, the two were still there. We're going back to the Argents."

Peter pursed his lips, curious. Somehow, he doubted his dear nephew was out on the hunt for his wayward betas, yet Stiles' face was set in the tight, righteous anger of someone set to avenge their pack. Peter knew that look from his own face. Yes, his clever boy was going to keep him on his toes, one surprise after the other. He smiled pleased as he watched Stiles. He'd made the right decision, coming back from the dead. His boy was going to keep things interesting.

/break\

Derek wasn't Peter's Alpha. Not really. Peter was on the fringe of Derek's pack, clinging onto it by proving his usefulness. And tracking down Boyd and Erica in the woods with Stiles had been the first step in that. He honestly didn't know if Derek would have kept him around otherwise.

The relationship Boyd and Erica had with their Alpha was similarly strained though. They'd run away for a reason, after all. Peter and Stiles bringing them back to Beacon Hills didn't magically fix those issues, though the berating Stiles gave them when he drove them back home must have gotten through enough to keep them from trying and running again ('You are two packless betas, no Alpha and no pack to run toward either. You're minors with no disposable income. Your parents are looking for you. Stop being stupid and go back home.').

For reasons Peter couldn't entirely pinpoint, Stiles had decided to make the Hale Pack a pet-project of his. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth though, because he got to see his boy a lot over the summer while Stiles put his foot down and forced Derek to whip his pack at least somewhat into shape. Boyd, Erica, Isaac and the newest addition, Jackson.

Derek bought a loft, where him and Isaac moved in and where the pack met at least once a week. Every other day, they met in the Preserve for training, where Derek and Peter taught the betas how to fight and how to control themselves, after Peter was shocked to learn of Derek's training methods ('You used… torture devices on them? Did you forget about the talisman your mother used to teach you?'). And Stiles would be right there with them, supervising and glaring down their Alpha.

It was unorthodox, so it took Peter a few weeks to realize why Stiles had made them their project, why Stiles could glare Derek down like that without receiving bodily harm. Somehow, while Peter had been dead, Stiles had become Pack Mom of the Hale Pack. Most traditionally, the Pack Mom was the Alpha Mate – a much more official title, 'Pack Mom' was what the pups of a pack would refer to them as, however considering that there was nothing sexual or romantic going on between Derek and Stiles, the boy was not the Alpha Mate, so Peter used the more childish term as a distinction here (and he was quite relieved to realize that there was nothing going on between his nephew and Stiles. Stiles was his and he'd hate to tear his nephew's throat out).

Peter was fairly sure that Derek hadn't realized it either, the Alpha looked mostly annoyed and maybe even a little confused every time he listened to one of Stiles' suggestions (and 'suggestion' was a very tame term for the snarky half-orders the human boy gave). And though Boyd and Erica had stayed in Beacon Hills, Peter could tell that what kept them there were their bonds with Stiles, not their loyalty to their Alpha. Something that Peter could wholeheartedly relate to.

He was more or less being tolerated by Derek. Laura's death still loomed between them and… Peter couldn't even blame Derek for the resentment. Yet at the same time, Peter also had no intention to grovel and beg for forgiveness. He was by technicality part of the pack, so he wasn't at risk of going feral again, and he had one bond, that was all he needed. It was more than he'd expected, really.

Going with Stiles, that fateful night, to the Argents, where Boyd and Erica were no longer being held, but where their scent had lingered enough that Peter could track them down on foot with Stiles at his side, it had gone a long way in his relationship with Stiles. Whether Stiles was aware of it or not, the moment the two of them found Boyd and Erica in the woods, a bond formed between Peter and Stiles. Stiles had claimed Peter as one of his, possessive and determined and it had taken Peter's breath away to feel a real pack-bond, the first real pack-bond since the fire, snap into place.

Now, Peter understood. As Pack Mom, Stiles could tie himself to other pack-members in a stronger and firmer way than regular pack-bonds between betas; it was the second highest rank in a pack, after the Alpha. That realization had made Peter feel giddy in a way he hadn't since childhood.

When these pieces fell into place, Peter knew that Stiles would be worth the wait. Peter could not rush this, but he would have his boy. He would reclaim his Alpha-hood and Stiles would be his Alpha Mate, claim the title he should have to go with his role.

The biggest obstacle for that was Derek. Killing Derek was out of the question. Stiles and Derek weren't mates, but they still had a strong pack-bond and Stiles did consider Derek one of his. Which meant that killing Derek would upset Stiles (and Peter would prefer to not be set on fire again). Also, Peter would rather not kill his last remaining family if it could be avoided. So his plan would have to be a game of patience, until the opportunity arose to become an Alpha again and until he had gained enough of Stiles' trust to make the boy accept his courting.

"Stop scheming and pay attention," Stiles heaved a sigh, kicking Peter's leg.

Peter startled out of his thoughts and looked at the boy who had walked over to him with two plates. He handed one to Peter and then sat down next to him. So close that Peter could feel the warmth radiating off the boy and it sent a shudder down the wolf's spine. His leg tingled where Stiles had kicked it. Stiles gave him a weird look but started eating.

"What were you scheming?" Stiles asked with a mouthful of pasta.

Erica had gotten to pick the meal today. For pack meetings, they always cooked together, though Stiles commandeered the kitchen, while everyone else followed his instructions. Derek couldn't cook to save his life and Peter had no interest in trying to reign in the wild pups. His eyes wandered over to the rest of the pack. Derek sat on the arm-chair, eating quietly. Boyd and Erica were cuddled up to each other, the mated pair was rarely found apart ever since their rescue. While Boyd was talking to Isaac about some video game, Erica and Jackson were heatedly arguing. Which, in a more recent development, didn't end in claws and fangs anymore. The two had somehow become friends.

"Just thinking about the future, darling," Peter chimed in a fake chipper voice.

"That is so creepy, don't do that," Stiles wiggled his nose. "No murders in your future, right?"

A sharp grin pulled on his lips. "None that you would mind, I assure you."

Stiles heaved a sigh and shook his head, instead focusing on his food. It happened gradually, that the two scooted closer, until Stiles was a warm line pressed against Peter's side and it made Peter's breath hitch. His clever boy had been doing this more and more lately, casual and near inconspicuously, seeking out Peter and touching him one way or another.

"What," Peter cleared his throat. "What are you doing, sweetheart?"

Stiles looked up at him, blinking those big doe-eyes of his at Peter. "You're a wolf."

"Yes," Peter nodded slowly, confused. "I'm aware of that, thank you."

The eye-roll he got for that was absolutely impressive. "Don't be dense, Peter, it's not a good look on you. You keep your distance to the pack, but wolves still need contact with pack. If you refuse to get it yourself, I'm gonna make sure you get it anyway, if you want to or not."

Or not. Peter had to physically keep himself from barking out a laugh. Did he want physical contact to Stiles? Of course. He just wouldn't have thought his boy would allow it. Then again, for the past weeks of this pack forming, Peter had done everything to prove himself to the boy. Many hours had been spent with Peter and Stiles researching the Alpha Pack together, after Derek had found their symbol on the door of the old Hale House (the main reason Derek had finally gotten a proper place to sleep in, with a roof and a door. Small mercies). The wolf's heart was racing and he couldn't entirely stop himself from preening that Stiles had chosen to take care of Peter. Watching the boy boss Derek around and take care of the Alpha in his own way, shaping Derek into a better Alpha, watching Stiles curl together with Boyd and Erica and bond over the shared trauma, watching him quietly talk to Isaac about the boy's dead mother and brother, watching him begrudgingly make an effort to get to know and somewhat befriend Jackson, that was one thing, but to see Stiles reach out to Peter and try to take care of Peter? When… was the last time someone had taken care of Peter?

For a moment, an unfathomable sadness filled him as he remembered the smiling face of his uncle James. The younger brother of Peter and Talia's father, Pack Mom to the Hale Pack that Peter had grown up in. When Peter had been a pup, untouched by trauma or tragedy or loss. An equally unorthodox pack dynamic and the only reason Peter had clued in at all as to what role Stiles was filling in the pack. As much as Peter had adored his mother Dalia, the woman was not much of a caretaker. She was a loving mother, yes, but herding all the pups and tending to the other adults in the pack? She had her duties as Emissary to prioritize, so when her brother-in-law had stepped up to fill that part of the Alpha Mate's role, she had more than gladly handed the duties over to James.

"Hey," Stiles whispered softly. "Where did you just go in your mind?"

Peter shook his head, shaking the thoughts off and returning his attention to the pasta. No point in dwelling in the past, he had to set his sights into the future and the pack he would build.

/break\

Peter Hale was frustrating to deal with. Not just because of all the creepy jokes he made that Stiles couldn't take seriously, or the murders, but because the man was such a lone wolf. It was a headache, really. Stiles had even managed to force Jackson into pack-bonding and that was a feat he was quite proud of. Then again, since the whole kanima-situation, the other jock had become a little more bearable. It helped that Stiles only had to deal with him alone nowadays. Lydia would not come within ten feet of the Hale Pack, on account of Peter, so Stiles didn't have to sit through Jackson and Lydia together. He was doing so good at getting over his crush, because quite frankly, he knew it would never compare to the Disney-levels of love that Jackson and Lydia had, seriously, they had done the whole 'True Love's Kiss breaks the curse' spiel, who could compete with that. And it was easier to digest that and get over it when he didn't have their love thrown into his face all the time. Similarly, it helped that Scott wasn't part of the pack, because Jackson still had that rivalry going on with Scott and that would just be obnoxious to boot too.

Instead, both Scott and Lydia spent their summer obsessed with Allison Argent. And, to distract himself from that (and from the nightmares about the basement and the painfully slow healing of his bruised ribs), Stiles had thrown himself into fixing Derek's pack of puppies before they got themselves killed. It was a great project, it was exactly what Stiles always did. Dealing with his own pain and grief by taking care of others. After his mother had died, he'd launched himself into taking care of his dad and it had worked out great for Stiles. No need for therapy or anything. He ran the household, made sure his dad at least slept on the couch instead of sitting in a chair with a glass of whiskey in his hand, he even forged the sheriff's signature on the paperwork he'd do while his dad was passed out drunk. So much to do, no time to grief or think sad thoughts.

A few weeks into this new little project, Stiles noticed that Peter always kept a certain distance to the pack. Sitting on the spiral staircase, instead of on the couches with the other betas. And part of Stiles had accepted that, assumed it was an issue of an adult man not wanting to cuddle up to a bunch of minors he didn't even know. The longer he watched, the more he started to realize that it might be more than that though. That Peter might be punishing himself.

Survivor's guilt. Peter was the only survivor of a horrible tragedy. Derek was too, in a different way. He felt guilty, because he blamed himself for it happening because of Kate, and he hadn't even been in the house when it happened. Peter had been in the middle of the tragedy, had been hurt by it. Must be asking himself 'Why me? Why did I get out and they didn't?'.

Eight people died in the Hale Fire and Stiles had read the file. He knew who Peter had lost in that fire, who Peter had watched and listened to as they died. Not just Derek's parents and little sister. Peter's mother had been in the house too. Peter's younger brother Aaron and his family – his wife and two children. And out of them all, Peter was the only one to survive. Stiles couldn't imagine how much that alone would choke someone up.

So Stiles guessed survivor's guilt – not thinking he deserved kindness – combined with a fear of loss – he'd already lost an entire pack, every person he'd let close was someone else he could lose. And that just couldn't stand for Stiles. He was part of the pack, he'd been helping them so much, he deserved to not be a pariah in his own pack. And the Hale Pack should be Peter and Derek's first; they were the last surviving Hales, after all.

With Derek and the teen betas more or less taken care of, Peter became Stiles' next project (because Stiles was still more or less avoiding Scott, who kept mooning over Allison, the girl who got Boyd and Erica abducted and nearly killed them. And yep, he needed the distraction).

"You're out of… everything aside from coffee. How do you live like this?" Stiles frowned as he closed another cabinet. "...Do you no longer need food since the resurrection?"

Peter, who had just walked into his apartment, stared at Stiles. "What are you doing here? How do you know where I live and how did you get in here?"

Stiles pushed off the cabinet enough to aim his full glare of disappointment and offense at Peter. "You didn't seriously think I didn't know where you lived, did you? I expected more of you, Peter."

Which, really, he did. Peter so far had delighted in seeing everything that Stiles was 'capable of'. He really thought that Stiles never tracked him down to his fancy apartment? Peter sighed, a sound of defeat that indicated he was following Stiles' line of thought. Stiles smirked.

"And how did you get in?" Peter asked while shrugging off his jacket.

Another glare of disappointment and offense. "Not even gonna dignify that with an answer."

This time, the sound Peter made was mildly amused. The man kept puttering about, dropping his keys in the little ceramic bowl (hand-made by his niece Cora, it was signed in a scrawny children's writing in bright yellow). His shoes came off and he slipped into fuzzy slippers (Stiles was gonna burn that image into his mind forever. Peter Hale in fuzzy slippers).

"Well," Stiles raised both eyebrows pointedly. "Food? Where is it?"

"Presumably at the store," Peter cocked one eyebrow. "I prefer ordering in over cooking."

There was something left unsaid there. Stiles narrowed his eyes and tilted his head. No point in cooking for one person. Stiles knew that feeling, sitting all alone in the empty Stilinski home while his dad was out on yet another double-shift. Another reason why Stiles kept hanging out with the Hale Pack. In the aftermath of Matt's murder spree at the sheriff station, they were so severely understaffed and stretched thin that his dad kept pulling double or even triple shifts.

Stiles didn't really have Lydia, because Lydia had Allison and Jackson and Stiles was trying to avoid the murderous huntress as well as the Jackson-Lydia-love-fest. And Stiles didn't really have Scott, because Scott had Allison and lacrosse on his mind and was 'trying to do good at school' and 'be a better version of himself'; he was studying and had no time for Stiles. And Stiles also didn't really have his dad, because half the station had died and his dad was trying to cover for them while simultaneously mourning his friends and co-workers. Leaving Stiles all alone in his house, cooking for himself and sitting in silence, so instead, he ran to the Hale Pack and he cooked for six werewolves and listened to banter and snark and noise. Because that was how he coped.

"Right, well, you're glad I had the foresight to buy everything I'd need then."

"Need?" Peter approached him, curious. "What… What exactly are you doing here, darling?"

Stiles went to the bag he had brought and started unpacking stuff. "You owe me a history lesson on Deucalion and if I have to sit any longer on Derek's uncomfortable couch, my ass is not gonna thank me. Yours actually looks more comfortable. So. Dinner and a story. Now come help."

"Help?" Peter cocked one eyebrow but approached anyway. "You… break into my apartment, demand my time, occupy my kitchen and then order me to help with what you're doing?"

Stiles looked up from the ingredients, blinking large eyes at him. "Glad you're following. Onions."

For emphasis, he threw an onion at Peter. The wolf still looked bewildered. This may be the most out of his depth that Stiles had ever seen Peter, which was mildly delightful. Was it really throwing the big bad wolf for such a loop that Stiles was cooking for him?

Maybe he wasn't necessarily here to learn more about the Alpha of Alphas, they could have done this at the loft too, like their usual research sessions. But for the past weeks, Stiles had more or less subtly tried to force some physical contact onto Peter. Brushing against him, sitting closer to him, leaning against him, either sideways when he sat next to Peter or, if Peter occupied his beloved staircase then Stiles may sit down a few steps below and lean against Peter's leg. He could practically see the tension draining out of the wolf at every touch. Because wolves were tactile creatures. The betas were always all up in each other's personal space and had started including Stiles in that too. Only Peter kept himself on the outside.

Which, Stiles just wasn't going to allow anymore. He had, for reasons he wasn't entirely sure of (because Peter had been the only one to see him, had been the only one to stick around and stay with him when he had been beaten and tortured by Gerard Argent, Peter had noticed when nobody else had, because Peter had come with Stiles to track down Boyd and Erica, because Peter always listened to him, even when he acted annoyed by Stiles' ramblings, he still picked up on the important parts and never outright dismissed him), Stiles had decided that Peter was one of his now and Stiles took care of those who were his. He took care of his dad, he took care of Scott, after joining the Hale Pack, he'd started taking care of the pack (he put himself between the kanima and Erica and Isaac at the rave, he'd tried to get Erica and Boyd out of the basement, he was trying), and now that extended to Jackson and Peter too. If Peter was going to be difficult about it, fine. Stiles was as stubborn as it got. But he wasn't going to be stupid about it and trying anything more than casual contact in front of the pack would just chase Peter away, so he was here.

They cooked in moderate silence, Peter seemingly in his own head trying to figure out what it was that Stiles wanted. Only when the food was done and they moved to the living room did Stiles prompt Peter to actually talk, because yeah two birds, one stone. Take care of Peter, learn about the Alpha of Alphas. Once Peter sat on the couch, facing the table, Stiles sat down right next to him, facing Peter instead and casually throwing his legs over the wolf's lap. For a moment, Peter tensed, as he always did at unexpected physical contact, and also like always, he melted as soon as it registered as safe contact. Stiles sat close enough to him, he could feel the wolf's warm.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Part of the Pack

Peter was being manipulated into joining Derek's pack of feral teenagers and he couldn't decide what was most infuriating, that he was being manipulated, that he, as a wolf, was being manipulated by a human into joining the pack, or that it was working. No, it was definitely the latter.

He found it hard to be mad about being manipulated when it impressed him far too much that his clever boy had managed to do so and he long since should have known not to underestimate Stiles or think of him as just a human. Especially since the way this summer had been going, Peter was starting to think that there was more to his boy than sarcasm and wit. The scent of lightning storms that always clung to him used to be faint, back in the parking garage – tantalizing and mouthwatering even then, but faint – and it had grown much stronger since Peter's death. Some days, it was so intense, Peter felt as though he was standing in the eye of a storm just looking at Stiles. This? This wasn't a natural human scent, it was something far more ancient and powerful, slumbering just below the surface. Peter just needed to figure out what exactly it was.

The infuriating thing was that Peter couldn't even fully pinpoint when the manipulation had started.

Was it the shopping trip with the pack? When Stiles had whined about how all the betas had their matching little leather jackets while Stiles stood out with his hoodies, so Erica had badgered Derek into taking the pack shopping to buy Stiles a leather jacket too, because clearly it was part of being a Hale Pack member and at that point, Stiles irrefutably was a member of the pack. Usually, Peter avoided any and all pack-bonding activities – and it was easy enough, since it was just the teens hanging out, as teenage friend groups tended to, but this time, Derek was tagging along and Stiles did that thing where his beautiful, big brown eyes grew two numbers in size as he looked at Peter and asked him if he was also coming along and despite Peter's mind thinking no, his mouth had said yes. The manipulative little shit had smirked smugly at him the whole way to the mall.

Jackson was a charismatic asshole with great taste and Peter saw a lot of himself in the jock. Erica was actually a delight. Vicious, with a leaning to evil if she wanted to, impeccable fashion sense and a protective fondness of Stiles that Peter could heavily relate to (but did not feel threatened by because Erica had her mate-bond with Boyd). Boyd was a quiet presence, often times the most rational of the pack, which Peter had come to appreciate. Isaac could be a little shit if he wanted to be which could be quite entertaining, though Peter still struggled with the boy's excessive angst and didn't know how to handle it whenever the pup would flinch at a memory of his abuse.

Slowly, gradually, Stiles had roped Peter into spending time with the teen wolves. Shopping, pack dinners that he was no longer allowed to consume at the staircase because the pack had started buying actual furniture (like a dinner table) and painting the walls and overall turning Derek's loft into a livable space. And that shopping trip for Stiles' leather jacket had been the first instance.

"Do you think this dress looks good on me?" Erica asked.

"Babe, everything looks good on you," Boyd offered, a little desperate.

Perhaps because they'd been at the mall for an hour now and Erica, Jackson and Isaac took full advantage of the shopping spree on the Hales' credit card, Derek having more than enough money from the life insurances and the inheritance to provide for his pack. Boyd had taken advantage too, he was just quicker in picking clothes he liked and being done with it.

"Your opinion doesn't count, you are biased," Erica grinned and pecked his lips.

"The color is awful," Jackson said, rolling his eyes. "That shade of yellow clashes with your hair."

Peter pursed his lips, against better judgment amused by it all. His attention had mostly been on Stiles, but whenever his clever boy disappeared to get changed, he was left paying attention to the betas. Erica huffed indignantly at Jackson and looked ready to hit him, so before the teens could cause a scene, Peter got up and picked a different dress.

"Try this, orange goes lovely with blondes and this shade should compliment your skin-tone too."

For a moment, Erica looked startled and the rest of the pack did too, but then she accepted the dress and went back to the changing room to try it on. Derek shot Peter a curious look but, as was on brand for Derek, did not add any words. Peter appreciated that, in this instance.

"I found it! I found it and it's perfect!"

Stiles came running up to them all, lifting up a… red leather-jacket, bright Alpha-red. The grin on his lips nearly split his face when he put the jacket on and, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet, put up the hood. A hooded, red leather jacket. Yes, Peter could see why Stiles would find that perfect. Peter couldn't keep the enamored smile off his face if he tried.

"Little Red Riding Hood," Isaac muttered beneath his breath. "Really, Stiles?"

"I'm the boy who runs with wolves, what could convey that better than a red hood?" Stiles grinned proudly and gave it a whirl. "What do you think, guys?"

"Looks good on you," Boyd commented with a small smile.

"It… does," Jackson nodded reluctantly looking Stiles up and down. "The rest of your wardrobe still needs to be replaced, but this is a good start."

"You look lovely, darling," Peter tried to keep the purr from his voice.

Judging by the look Stiles sent him, he did not succeed. Thankfully, Erica returned in that moment to distract Stiles. She squealed and turned around to show off the dress. Boyd actually gaped at her, eyes wide and mouth open and completely smitten.

"Holy shit, I feel like a princess," Erica turned toward Peter, smiling brightly. "It's perfect! You are the best and you will never miss another pack trip to the mall again, you're now my official fashion adviser and shopping assistant, Peter."

And then she hugged him. He stood frozen for a few seconds, before he tentatively laid his arms around her, inhaling deeply. She smelt like cinnamon and apples and she felt so warm against him. The only one who touched him was Stiles, sneakily and never this all-consuming. When she pushed off him, she was still smiling, bright like sunshine, and something fierce and possessive settled in his chest, his wolf laying its claim as the faintest pack-bond reached out for her. He remembered her tear-streaked face, torn clothes and messy, bloodied self, the version of her that Peter and Stiles had tracked down in the woods. But here she stood, happy and safe and beautiful and his wolf told him that he had done that, had protected her, had now made her happy. Pack.

For a long moment, she blinked at him wondrously as she must also be feeling the pack-bond form between them. And then she smiled and reached a hand out to rest on his shoulder and run down his arm so she could grab his wrist. Scent-marking him. Deliberately, intentionally scent-marking him. He swallowed hard, trying to remember when another wolf had last intentionally scent-marked him.

"C'mon, you have to do Stiles next. Because Jacks is right, he really needs a make-over."

"I do not," Stiles squeaked, glaring offended at Erica. "Wait, what is happening here? Why are the two scariest people in the pack conspiring against me?"

"That is so offensive, I am definitely scarier than Erica," Isaac complained.

And that had been the start of it, hadn't it? A tentative, barely there pack-bond forming with Erica and growing stronger over the following weeks. Boyd following closely behind, because Stiles and Erica were the two people he trusted most and both were now spending time with Peter, bonding with Peter, so Boyd found himself trusting Peter too. Jackson seemed to pick Peter as a mentor-figure of sorts. Isaac was more reluctant, but seeing all other betas now flock to Peter, he also followed. Even Derek eased off of him, the hard glares no longer as hard, the silence no longer as deafening and what had been tolerance at best grew into quiet acceptance. All of that because of one stubborn human boy who ran with wolves and decided that Peter was worth the effort.

/break\

Jackson left, because Jackson's parents sucked. Sure, in an abstract kind of way, Stiles understood it. Their son had been kidnapped, behaved weirdly and ultimately died in front of an audience. Heck, maybe the Whittemores were onto something and leaving Beacon Hills was the only way to survive this town. It still sucked. He'd just started to like the guy and now he'd move to London.

"Stop glowering, Stilinski," Jackson rolled his eyes and reluctantly hugged him. "Phones exist. We'll text. And Peter pulled some strings, I'll be fine with a local pack."

Stiles grumbled into the other jock's shoulder. "Sure about that? You're an acquired taste. What if they kick you out right away for being an asshole?"

"Fuck you," Jackson huffed. "Alpha Hayes seems good. Nice. I…"

Heaving a sigh, Stiles pushed off of Jackson and saw the conflicted look on his face. The wolf was as worried as Stiles. Understandably so, he was leaving everything behind to move to London. His pack, his girlfriend, his best friend. Stiles pulled him into another hug.

"I'll keep an eye on Lydia," Stiles promised, just to get elbowed by Jackson. "Not like that. I haven't liked her like that in months, grow up."

"Good," Jackson glared at him. "Because I was just starting to tolerate you and I'd hate to have to rip out your throat with my teeth for trying to make a move on my mate, Stilinski."

"Tolerate," Stiles rolled his eyes. "You fucking adore me. I'm your third favorite person."

Jackson sneered. "Fourth. I rank Peter higher than you."

"Oh, now that actually wounds me," Stiles gasped, giving Jackson a shove.

There was a stretch of silence before Jackson spoke again. "Are you going to be fine?"

"Mh?" Stiles blinked at the wolf confused. "I'm always fine."

The eye-roll Jackson gave him really showed that the beta had been spending too much time with Peter lately. "You don't smell like McCall at all anymore. Have you even spent any time with him this summer? You were always with the pack and… honestly, I was pretty sure the whole point of that was to make Derek allow him back in but you.. haven't brought McCall up at all this summer."

It was impossible to stop the flinch. Sighing, Stiles ran his fingers through his hair that had grown out considerably in the months of summer. And then he hung his head.

"I don't know," Stiles admitted softly. "I don't know if we'll ever be right again. He didn't even notice. When Gerard fucking tortured me, all Scott had eyes for was Allison, he didn't even see the giant bloodied bruise on my face. Didn't even ask. Just… Allison on his mind, like he'd had since she moved here. And I kept forgiving that, every time he ditched me for her, every time he didn't answer my phone-call because he was on an important date with her, every time he shoved me aside – sometimes very literally so – to be with her. But this? I don't know how to… how to get back from this. I… don't even know if I want to get back from it…"

Stiles slumped down on one of the boxes with Jackson's belongings, the boy's bedroom already so empty and packed up. Jackson frowned and sat down opposite him.

"What does that mean?" Jackson asked, weirdly patient.

"I don't think I've ever had as much fun in my life as I did this past summer with the Hale Pack," Stiles' voice grew even softer, his eyes falling down onto his hands in his lap. "All my life, Scott's been my only friend, our friendship was the only kind I knew. Now, with you, Erica, Boyd, Isaac, even Derek and Peter, it… Even when I have to fight Derek for it, he accepts my input. I feel appreciated in a way I'm not used to. And it's not like Scott made a lot of effort this summer either. A couple of texts, asking to hang out but accepting when I declined because I'm busy, or on the occasions that I reached out, he'd tell me he had plans with Allison. He's focusing on Allison and school work. And I'm focusing on the Hale Pack, I mean, it's not like I'm sadly sitting at home staring out the window like a WWI widow-to-be waiting for her husband who's at the front lines. We both found things we have come to prioritize over each other and maybe… maybe that's okay."

"Maybe," Jackson tilted his head. "Fuck you for making me miss you."

Stiles gave a wet laugh and punched Jackson in the shoulder, just to wince. "Right back at you."

This was the first time he'd put all that into words, even for himself. He'd fully ignored his feelings and problems and instead focused on trying to fix other people's problems. It wasn't a healthy coping mechanism maybe, but it worked for him and it helped out others, so there was that. Still, hearing himself say that all, he found the words to ring true.

When this summer had started, he'd mostly latched onto the Hale Pack because fuck this, he had saved Boyd and Erica's asses, he was going to make sure they would stick around and also survive, plus Jackson had caused them all so much trouble, he was going to make sure the werewolf would stick and he wouldn't be forgotten and slip back into reptile-dome in his loneliness (…this was still so bizarre and wild to Stiles, like, if you were too lonely when you get bitten you may turn into a lizard instead of a werewolf? What? Who came up with that?). It gave him something to do and he could make sure the effort he'd put in during the weeks prior wouldn't go to waste.

Somehow, the sad puppies grew on him, every single one. He was invested in the pack now, liked spending time with them. Every movie night, every shared dinner and the preparation of the dinner beforehand, every research binge with Peter alone and the ones where they forced the other betas to pick up a book too, every strategizing session with Derek and Peter, every training session that he could heckle from the sidelines, all of that had made him… happy.

What had started out as a distraction from his loneliness, an attempt to not think about his broken heart and Lydia, or his fractured friendship with Scott, had effectively… helped him heal. He was over Lydia, could with certainty say now that all he wanted from her was friendship, because she was brilliant and quick-witted and a goddess, but he didn't desire her anymore. He could look back at the way his friendship with Scott had fractured, not with vindictive anger and blame but with a certain calm rational that saw it for what it was and didn't feel as bitter about it anymore, because now he had other friends, friends he could rely on.

He looked at Jackson with sad eyes. One of those friends he could rely on was leaving now, but hopefully, the rest of the pack would be fine. Stiles would be fine. Everything would be fine.

/break\

Everything was absolutely not fine.

School started again and while that, very tentatively, seemed to be bringing Stiles and Scott closer again, partially helped by Isaac having somehow befriended Scott so now Stiles would be kind of hanging out with Isaac, Scott, Allison and Lydia, or alternately with Isaac, Boyd and Erica (who both refused to be caught dead in the same vicinity as Allison. Who had shot and hunted them and left them to be tortured and still hadn't apologized for it). With Jackson in London now, Lydia latched a little onto Stiles (because she could only get Allison's attention for a certain amount of time before Scott would distract her) and honestly, Stiles was more than happy with that.

So, on the social front, things were fine. It were the human sacrifices and the Alpha Pack that were absolutely not fine. It started out with animals going wild and suicidal and then they found their first lead on the Alpha Pack. Months of looking and Isaac finally found them! Just to have his memories wiped by them. It took a whole process to get them back and they were all startled to realize what the Alpha Pack was hiding. A hostage.

Cora Hale was alive. She'd been captured by the Alphas and starved of moonlight for four months, as Stiles and Peter figured out together, in the loft, while the other wolves had gone on a rescue mission (and Stiles fully didn't buy the 'still recently resurrected, not up for it' excuse. It had been four months now. Peter was in perfect shape. But Peter was also not comfortable leaving Stiles fully unprotected and alone in the loft with a whole pack of Alphas out there. The fact that Derek bought the shady excuse let Stiles know that even their esteemed Alpha was worried about Stiles, which was both flattering and annoying). The vault's walls were special, they didn't allow moonlight in and Cora had gone too long without seeing the moon, so this full moon proved too much.

She went half-feral, ran off, got trapped in the school with the new teacher (and who hung out at the school during a full moon! Everyone in Beacon Hills should just lock themselves in during those, honestly. But the school, of all places). In the end, they managed to bring her back, safe and alive.

Which was more than could be said about the human sacrifices that kept popping up around town. Stiles found himself curled together at the foot-end of Lydia's bed, a subdued look on his face as he mourned Heather. Because it hadn't always been just Scott and Stiles. There was a time when Stiles had other, non-Scott friends before. How had he lost touch with her? Would this not have happened if he hadn't? Lydia offered ice-cream, bad movies and silent support as the two brooded over the deaths and the mystery behind them, trying to solve it all while drowning Stiles' grief.

He was convinced they weren't related to the Alpha Pack. Why would werewolves cut throats with one precise slash (in Stiles' experience, wolves and throats ended with messily ripped out throats and multiple claw-marks. He'd seen it twice in person now, after all), strangulation and blunt-force trauma? That wasn't typical werewolf MO. Truly, literally not even a little bit.

Something in Stiles' stomach tightened when Scott didn't believe him, dismissed it as ridiculous. When Stiles had to argue wildly and justify why human sacrifices weren't unrealistic – and it felt a bit like treading water to stay afloat. He'd grown so used to being around the Hale Pack, to Peter complaining about the tangents but always picking up on the important information, latching onto it and exploring possibilities together with Stiles, the way they'd figured out the vault. Now he was back to struggling to explain and justify himself before Scott. In the end, Scott came around, like he mostly did, but the fact that Stiles had to work for that to begin with was… somewhat frustrating.

And things just kept getting worse and worse and worse.

Derek nearly died, when the wolves decided to go against the Alpha Pack on their own. Hubris. Idiocy. Stiles was so angry and so frustrated and kept bitching to Lydia about it for two hours. She was indulgent and shared his indignation, but these days, she was also impossibly distracted. Drawn to death, losing time and the sense for what was going on, not entirely in control of where her body was taking her. Stiles wished he could have more time to focus on that, but she seemed relatively safe while other people were dying, so the Darach and the Alpha Pack took priority for now.

They thought the Alpha Pack had come for Derek, to recruit him. To make Derek kill his betas. And, in an act of retreating back into himself and pushing those who cared about him away, Derek tried to deal with it on his own. Isaac, who'd been bonding more and more with Scott, moved in with the McCalls when Derek kicked him out after the Alpha Pack broke into the loft.

It felt like Stiles was drowning. It felt like the pack was falling apart. Jackson was gone, all the way in London. Derek pushed his betas away and while Boyd and Erica found refuge at Peter's, claiming his couch and his snacks and bitching about their Alpha, Isaac fell back onto Scott, and Stiles was somewhere stuck in the middle, stretched thin as he tried to keep his pack together.

Suddenly, Cora was somewhat maybe a part of them but not really? She'd had a foster family and pack back in Mexico, where she'd lived for the past six years and Stiles still didn't fully understand how she had survived or gotten away, much less ended up in Mexico. There was so much tension and resentment. She seemed disappointed in Derek, angry in a way about being abandoned, even though Derek hadn't even known she had been alive. Angry at Peter for killing Laura, at Derek for killing Peter, at everyone else for dying. She was just filled with so much anger and having been kidnapped and isolated for four months didn't help much.

"So… you and Cora talk yet?" Stiles asked softly.

His eyes were on the key bowl that stood on the drawer the closest to the entrance way. The childish yellow handwriting that marked it as made by Cora Hale seemed so much brighter and prominent right now. Stiles sat on the couch, his feet tucked under Peter's thigh, head resting on Peter's shoulder. On Peter's other side sat Boyd, with Erica on his lap and her feet in Peter's lap. It had taken Stiles months to work Peter up into actual cuddling, much less cuddling with the rest of the pack. Though him and Isaac were still a little tentative with each other, Peter clearly didn't know how to handle the traumatized boy and didn't seem keen on accidentally spooking him, Peter had formed a good and strong bond with Boyd and Erica, much to Stiles' delight.

"Vaguely," Peter drawled dryly. "Most conversations do devolve into shouting matches. Though at least Derek and I seem to have the same kind of luck on that end."

"I think she seems nice, I mean, nice enough," Erica added thoughtfully. "Just, you know, kinda messed up from… everything, I guess."

Cora wasn't exactly making strides in befriending the pack, Stiles had noted that with some frustrated concern. Didn't seem like she was really set on becoming part of the Hale Pack. He scooted a little closer to Peter, tucking himself under the man's arm. Peter obliged the silent request and started running his fingers through Stiles' hair. Yeah, growing it out had been the best damn decision he'd made since joining the Hale Pack.

"I don't like how much things are changing," Stiles admitted softly.

And what he didn't admit was how much it scared him. Rightfully so, as the following weeks would prove. When the Darach poisoned Cora and Derek gave up his Alpha spark to save his sister's life, when the Darach kidnapped Chris and Melissa and Stiles' dad and the three teens had to die to find and save their parents, when the Alpha Pack drew out Scott's supposed True Alpha potential and turned Stiles' oldest friend into a packless Alpha.

Or, Scott would have been packless, if there hadn't been a pack up for grabs now, with the Hale Alpha spark extinguished (Centuries. Centuries of this bloodline, of this proud werewolf family protecting the territory. Centuries of history, simply wiped out with one act of kindness from Derek. It was so unfair). Scott already had Allison and Lydia, Isaac had grown closer and closer to Scott, Stiles had been torn in his loyalty between Scott and the Hale Pack for a while now.

It proved harder to fold Boyd, Erica, Derek and Peter into the new McCall Pack though. Boyd and Erica still weren't fans of Allison, even though she had shown improvement and atonement in how she'd helped them deal with the Darach and the Alpha Pack. Stiles could hold a mean grudge too, so he didn't blame them for that. Especially since joining the McCall Pack didn't just mean being in a pack with Allison, it meant submitting to her, since she was the Alpha Mate.

Stiles was fairly sure that Allison – an Argent, in general – being Alpha Mate also played somewhat into Peter's reservations. The rest was all Scott. The two of them would never see eye to eye and Stiles couldn't blame Scott at all there, quite frankly. Sure, Stiles still thought that Scott was blowing the 'ruined my life' angle up a little too strongly when it came to the bite because it had cured his asthma, made him popular, given him new friends, great lacrosse abilities and also Allison, but he did understand how upsetting the non-consensual angle of it was.

He didn't hold Scott's dislike of Peter against Scott, but that didn't mean Stiles wasn't beyond frustrated at the full set back in regards to Peter. Back to lingering at the spiral staircase, instead of sitting comfortably on the couch with the rest of the pack, othered and kept at the fringe of the pack for crimes of the past, all over again, with an Alpha who barely tolerated him for his usefulness.

And Peter and Derek had shown so much improvement! Their relationship had finally started mending, Peter was finally a full member of the Hale Pack, just for the Hale Pack to be ripped apart. Derek too was struggling with his new role as a beta to Scott. The two had a rocky relationship, after all the murder accusations and of course the way Scott had forced Derek to bite Gerard. Now suddenly, Derek had to answer to this teenager? After having been Alpha himself, after finally having built a stable and loving pack, after losing that all over?

Cora left. Stiles couldn't blame her. She'd come here for a Hale Pack and now there was no Hale Pack anymore. She hadn't come to sign up for the pack of a random teenager she didn't even know. Instead, she returned back to the loving foster family and pack that she had known for the past six years, leaving the horrors of Beacon Hills behind. Stiles got it, he honestly started to think leaving was the only way to survive. What he didn't get was why Derek and Peter stayed.

"Darling, you're not getting rid of me that easily," Peter raised his eyebrows at Stiles as he smoothly moved past Stiles to the other side of the stove. "And do hand me the butter."

They were cooking dinner for their… friends. Not pack, not anymore. They were still pack, but they weren't the pack anymore. Derek, Boyd and Erica were over to eat with Peter and Stiles, because it was Friday, it was pack night. Pack nights weren't something that had crossed Scott's mind yet and Stiles also wasn't entirely sure how smoothly dinner would go with Scott, Allison, Lydia, Stiles, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Derek and Peter all in one room.

Stiles handed Peter the butter before returning his attention to the meat. "I just… I'd get it, you know. This town has already taken so much from you and now it took the Hale spark too…"

There was a minute stutter in Peter's movement. Easy to miss for someone who didn't know Peter as well as Stiles did. His heart clenched a little at the forced smile on Peter's lips.

"All the more reason to stay, then," Peter argued. "Where else would we go? To Mexico with Cora? No, really not. She has her own life there, we don't fit into that. And besides, somebody has to make sure Scott doesn't get all of you killed."

"Mh," Derek grunted his agreement, stabbing the salad he was putting together maybe a little harder than necessary. "Peter and I are going to teach him how to be an Alpha, if he wants it or not. He's now responsible for this territory, for our family's legacy."

Stiles turned toward him and squeezed his shoulder a little, causing some tension to leave Derek. There was a haunted look in Derek's eyes when he turned toward Stiles. So much loss, so much set-back. Months of hard work felt like they were running down the drain…

The doorbell rang, distracting him, and Boyd opened the door. "Isaac."

"Hey," Isaac ducked his head as he walked into the apartment, carrying a baguette. "It's pack night but nobody was at the loft so I… Is it… Is it okay that I'm here?"

He looked so small and lost as his gaze wandered from one to the other. Erica took the baguette from him and rubbed her cheek against his, calming him a little before leading him into the kitchen.

"We weren't sure if you'd want to come," Derek grunted, glaring at the salad.

Isaac flinched and seemed ready to flee, so Stiles grabbed him by the arm. "Because you've been getting closer to Scott and you seem to have very smoothly integrated into the McCall Pack and this is… This isn't a pack night anymore, because the Hale Pack… doesn't exist… anymore… This is more like a support group for those struggling with the McCall Pack."

Stiles offered a sarcastic smile, trying to pull Isaac into the kitchen. In the end, Boyd helped out by giving Isaac a push from behind. Stiles turned his back on them to return to the stove and Peter.

"Just because we don't have a Hale Alpha doesn't mean the pack doesn't exist, sweetheart," Peter's voice was gentle, he brushed his arm against Stiles'. "We still have each other. And we have you."

Stiles didn't really know why Peter had to single him out in particular. He wasn't even a wolf. Sure, he was a 'Spark', but Stiles was still trying to figure out what that even meant. He'd performed some minor magic at the rave and then not really thought about it for months, too focused on rebuilding the Hale Pack. He had used his magic again during their fight against the Alpha Pack and the Darach though, more instinctual than intentional, but at that point it became undeniable that Stiles was magic, or had magic, or something like that anyway. He just didn't know the extent of it yet. Did Peter really think a Spark was all that special or important to a pack…?

"Sure," Stiles offered instead, with a small smile. "We got each other."

/break\

Peter had thought that he was on a pretty good trajectory with Stiles. The way his boy had worked so hard on integrating Peter into the Hale Pack, the close and downright intimate friendship they had formed, with Stiles being the first person Peter got to seek physical comfort with (but by far not the last and Peter still marveled at the fact that Erica, Boyd, Derek and by now even Isaac allowed it too). He had wanted to give it a little more time, just to be sure, before he'd start courting the boy.

And then the Alpha Pack, the Darach and the new McCall Pack had hijacked those plans. They were so in over their head, struggling so much, that Peter's mind wasn't set on romance either.

No, the set-back of being once again on the outer fringes of a pack and hanging on by a thread, or rather a pack-bond, was devastating. He knew that if not for Stiles and their pack-bond, Peter would be an omega. Even his bonds with Derek, Erica, Boyd and Isaac wouldn't have been enough to tie him to a pack where the Alpha resented him as much as he resented the Alpha. Things with Derek had been tense, sure, but they still had a begrudging kind of respect for each other's abilities and at the very bottom of it all, the familial love they once shared before the fire.

But Scott? Scott still resented Peter for the bite, which may or may not be fair enough. Peter had his own resentments toward Scott though. The boy had someone as brilliant, loyal, fierce and wonderful as Stiles in his corner and just… put him on a shelf like a used toy when new shiny things like the Argent girl came around? Scott's loss had been the Hale Pack's gain and Peter was grateful for it, but he still resented Scott on Stiles' behalf, for the pain he'd caused.

So no, there was not even the faintest trace of a pack-bond between Scott and Peter. Peter also couldn't bring himself to get close to the Alpha Mate, to an Argent who had personally hurt Peter's pack – Boyd, Erica and Isaac – in the past. Even bonds to other betas weren't enough to keep one from becoming a feral omega if they had no bonds at all to the Alpha or the Alpha Mate.

But that was okay, because Peter had something so much more precious and so much stronger. He had a bond with Stiles, who carried over his role as Pack Mom even into the McCall Pack, still taking care of the Hale betas that were absorbed into the McCall Pack and keeping them all together, making sure they didn't fall apart.

Interestingly enough, Stiles managed to fold Lydia in with them too. One day, after the pack had concluded another meeting about the latest threat, Peter found himself seated on the couch in Derek's loft (where the newly minted McCall Pack still kept having their pack meetings, since their Alpha was a teenager living at home with his mom) with Stiles and Lydia for research, because now that they were in a pack with the resident genius, Lydia would be amiss to not help with research.

"Why don't you get us some sandwiches, Stiles?" Lydia smiled at Stiles a little too sharply.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and looked between Lydia and Peter, like he was trying to pin them in place and keep them from attacking each other. Only when he seemed satisfied that they may not immediately kill each other did he leave, and not without grabbing the letter opener to take with him and, to be very honest, Peter couldn't tell for whose safety that was, so the action was probably fair.

"What you did to me," Lydia took a deep breath and looked at Peter with steel in her eyes. "Is something I will never forget or forgive."

"Understandable," Peter conceded. "I will, however, also not apologize for it. I do apologize for the pain it caused you, but I can't apologize or regret the act. I would still be dead in a hole if I hadn't."

Lydia's lips twitched, close to a barely concealed snarl and then she nodded. "I am, however, willing to move on from it. It's been a year, I'm learning to control my powers. I know you are… important… to Stiles, and to Jackson too, and we are pack now. So I suggest an alliance."

"I would be more than amendable to that," Peter smiled pleased.

And that day, a truly unholy union was forged. It didn't take off with a bang right away. The first couple of research sessions were tense and stilted, but they soon realized that they worked well together. After that, they discovered that they had quite a lot in common; their impeccable fashion sense among others. Lydia started to accompany Peter, Erica, Boyd (the only unwilling participant), Isaac and Stiles onto their shopping trips. They traded tips and barbs and started to slip into a near comfortable rhythm with it. Peter started to value her, started to see her as pack even, could feel the faint bond slowly building between them. But even if he didn't, the absolutely blinding smile that Stiles had to offer them every time they were civil or even friendly, would have been worth it alone.

Peter didn't need an Alpha, he didn't need Scott or the Argent girl, he just needed Stiles. Maybe he should get back on track. Once this new McCall Pack settled, he would start courting his boy.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Broken. But Healing

Peter, Stiles and Lydia's research team gained a new member in Kira Yukimura. The young kitsune had freshly moved to Beacon Hills and shown a bright mind and large enthusiasm for research. She was also a very warm and enthusiastic person and had near immediately clicked with Stiles, who had consequently dragged her over to Peter's one afternoon after they put her in the know. One look from those big Bambi eyes and Peter opened his door to let them both in.

How was it that, a year ago, nobody had even known where Peter lived and now he practically had a rotating door of pack-mates drop in and feel at home here? Not a day went by that Peter got to actually be alone in his own home. Whenever the sheriff was at work during the day, Stiles would gravitate to the penthouse, often dragging at least one beta with him. Erica and Boyd, who had run away not just because of Derek but also because they weren't exactly happy at home, also made the penthouse their second home. Isaac kept coming around more and more often, now that he knew he was still welcome with them and they didn't begrudge him his loyalty to Scott (well, Peter did begrudge it somewhat, but he'd grown fond of the pup so he let it slide). Lydia was as frequent a guest nowadays, planning her career and picking his brain for it, because she had set her sights on becoming a lawyer. Sure, she had a brilliant mind with a large scientific understanding, but that was more a hobby than a career to her. Peter was more than happy to lend her all the law books he had from his own college times and answer all questions about the profession that she had.

And now Kira had joined the roster too, her friendship with Stiles and Lydia bringing her into the fold of their little sub-pack within the McCall Pack. She was smiling brightly as she handed out sushi she had brought for the first pack night that she attended, outside of research.

"Mom and I made it, when I told her that I was coming over again, she said that I should maybe bring something too for a change instead of just letting you guys feed me," Kira ducked her head.

Despite his best intention to not grow attached to any new people (which had already been an amendment of his original intention to not grow attached to any non-Stiles people, before the pups had taken over his life), Peter had let her worm her way in too. Just seeing Stiles and Kira nerd out together and ramble at a concerning speed with each other had made him grow font of the young fox. Offering her a small smile, he rested a hand on her shoulder, scent-marking her.

"Please assure your mother that the wolf in me is more than happy to provide for his pack," Peter chuckled. "But also let her know that the sushi is very much appreciated."

It had been a while since he'd last had home-made sushi. These days, the cuisine in his penthouse was seventy percent Polish, because ever since the pack had learned that Stiles used to cook with his mom and hadn't really gotten to do so in recent years, they had all expressed eagerness at trying the to them foreign cuisine. There was still a lot of pasta and pizza and of course nice, juicy steaks thrown into the mix, but Peter was entirely disarmed when he saw how happy and eager Stiles was every time the pack shared a meal from the Gajos family cook book.

"How do I eat this?" Erica asked.

"With your mouth," Isaac said sarcastically.

Erica rolled her eyes and elbowed him before picking up the chopsticks. "I mean those! How do I use them? I've never actually had sushi before."

"Oh," Kira blinked. "Uh. I hope you'll like it but it's okay, if you don't, we can order pizza."

She ducked her head again but this time in a manner Peter had seen from Stiles too. The kind unique to second generation immigrants eager to share their culture but used to rejection from the American pallet. With a thin-lipped smile did Peter grab his own chopsticks and step up to Erica.

"You hold them like this," Peter demonstrated. "And then you can pick up the food. There you go."

Erica actually cheered when she got it right on the second attempt. Isaac on the other hand was less successful but then just gave up and picked the salmon roll up with his hand.

"This works too," Isaac offered around a full mouth.

"You have no manners," Lydia looked ready to stab him with a chopstick, before aiming a charming smile at Kira. "Don't mind the wild wolves. It's delicious. Certainly the best sushi I've ever had."

"You have to teach us how to make it," Stiles agreed, both cheeks stuffed. "Oh, next week, we could go shopping together for it, and then we make it together?"

"That's a great idea," Boyd nodded, looking at Kira with the same curiosity as Stiles.

The boy loved cooking, had developed a true passion for it and eagerly absorbed every recipe that Peter and Stiles shared with him, at home in the penthouse's kitchen alongside them. There was a culinary career in his future and Peter was going to make sure to support him through it.

Kira straightened up with a bright smile. "Yeah. I'd like that. Mom also asked me for the pierogi recipe, after I brought home left overs last week? Dad really loved them."

"Your father is a man of great taste," Stiles grinned.

"That's what mom always says too, on account of his amazing wife," Kira giggled a little.

Peter picked up another piece of sushi and leaned back in his chair. When Derek had lost the Alpha spark, Peter had feared he'd lose this. Lose another pack. Yet somehow, they were making this work. They were still a pack, because their bonds were strong enough to outlast tragedy. They would be fine. His eyes settled on Stiles and Derek, who were arguing about something (Derek with his eyebrows and Stiles with his hands and words). Peter loved to see his boy excited and happy, content in Peter's apartment, with their pack. For the first time since the fire, Peter felt himself take a deep breath in the knowledge that they would be fine.

/break\

They weren't fine. Stiles, Scott and Allison struggled, after their sacrifice to save their parents from the Darach. The pack had tried their best to help, but things only got worse for Stiles. For a time, they thought he was dying. When he'd been in the hospital and diagnosed with the very thing that had killed his mother, Peter felt like the floor was breaking apart beneath his feet.

"I can't die like this, Peter," Stiles whispered, voice hoarse from crying, clinging onto Peter's shirt.

They were alone. The whole pack, as well as the sheriff and Melissa, had already hugged him and reassured him that they'd be there for Stiles and he had for the most part put on a brave face. Peter stuck to the shadows, watching and digesting, until everyone, including him, left. At home, Peter had emptied his strongest wolfsbane laced Scotch and cried to himself too. The first tears he shed since the fire. He was going to lose Stiles, to something he couldn't fight.

He was still drunk when his doorbell rang and he'd sneered at the door, intent on ignoring whoever it was. Regardless of how much he had involuntarily started to care for this pack of misfit pups, right now he was busy drowning his own grief and couldn't handle trying to console them. May they find comfort with each other and leave him be with his sorrow.

Even in his drunk state, he managed to pick up the heartbeat in front of his door though and it immediately changed Peter's mind. He had put the Scotch down and practically scrambled to let the other in, having Stiles nearly collapse into him as soon as the door was open. The boy clawed at his shirt and cried into his chest, an endless chant of 'not like this' spilling from his lips.

"Darling," Peter's voice broke.

But what could he say? That everything would be good? This was a death sentence. There was no getting through this together. All any of them could do was support Stiles as best as they could, take care of him, while… while he would be slowly dying. Peter's arms around Stiles tightened. They had moved on to the couch and Stiles was practically sitting on his lap.

"Will you take care of my dad? When I'm… When I'm no longer here," Stiles looked at him so desperately. "You, not just you-you, but you the pack. I just… I… When he lost my mom, he lost himself in the bottle and he nearly… It nearly killed him. I can't be the thing that actually kills him. I can't be… I need to know that someone will take care of him when I can't, make sure he doesn't drown himself in alcohol… I can't rest if I don't know what'll happen to him."

"Of course, darling," Peter smoothed down Stiles' hair soothingly. "Pack takes care of their own. Your father is your pack, and that makes him our pack."

"And will you…" Stiles trailed off, taking a shaky breath. "Will you kill me, when I lose myself?"

"W… What?" Peter swallowed hard, unable to comprehend the request.

"This isn't just… physically killing me. Far before I'll die, I'll already be gone," Stiles' voice was empty and shallow. "Mom… She wasn't herself for months before she died."

"Being… this sick, it… changes a person," Peter tried carefully.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "It ate away her brain. Her memories, her personality. She… didn't recognize me anymore, called me names, threw things at me… tried… tried to drown me in the bathtub because she thought I was some kind of demon that had come for her real son."

Peter had no idea how to respond to that. He'd suspected that there was more to Claudia Stilinski than just her death, there was a deeply seated trauma in his boy that Peter hadn't been able to pinpoint. This also explained why he had related so strongly to Isaac and seemed so protective of the pup. Peter pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head, unable to find words.

"I can't become that," Stiles whispered. "The last memories I have of my mom are of a woman trying to kill me and calling me a demon. I don't… I don't want any of you to remember me like that and I don't want to become like that. I know it's unfair to ask you to do this, I know that, but I don't… I don't want to hurt any of the people I love, please let me go before it gets that bad. I'll die anyway, physically, but by then I'll already have died. Everything I am, the person I am, will have been dead for months by then. Don't let my body outlive my mind, Peter. Please."

"Only," Peter found himself saying, his voice breaking. "Only if you hurt someone, only if you're… I'll let you go, but only if you're truly gone."

There was nothing he wouldn't do for this boy, even if it meant to kill him. He still vividly remembered what it had felt like to be trapped in his own body, his mind still alive even as his body refused to work. He couldn't imagine the reverse. A shell of a man, walking around with a mind that was no longer his own. The thought terrified him and he couldn't fathom how much it must terrify Stiles. His heart clenched as he pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head.

Thankfully, this was a promise Peter never had to hold up. Because Stiles wasn't sick. He was possessed by a Nogitsune. They got the whole story from Kira's mother and the pack and their allies banded together in their search for a way to break the possession without killing Stiles. In the back of his head, Peter knew his promise still ought to be kept. If Stiles would be beyond saving, if all he became was a vessel to the demon, his mind forever gone, then Peter was going to end his life. Kill the creature wearing his mate's face to allow his body to rest.

They'd put the boy in Eichen House for a time, when they still thought he was sick, and he had formed a bond with the werecoyote Stiles and Scott had found in the woods not long ago, who had been sent there too. A pack of two in a facility that was trying to kill them, one way or another.

By the end of it all, when the possession was broken, the demon was sealed away and Stiles was theirs again, Malia officially joined the McCall Pack. Now all they had to do was let Stiles heal.

/break\

The Nogitsune had blown up the station. Deputies had died. People Stiles had grown up around died. He'd driven a sword through Scott and had killed Allison. He'd… also killed Aiden. The former Alpha twins had, in their attempt to endear themselves to Scott and become part of his pack, worked with the pack against the Nogitsune.

While Stiles couldn't help but feel guilty about Aiden's death, especially since the twins had tried to help, he still also felt resentment when Scott did officially accept Ethan into the pack in gratitude. All Stiles could think about when he saw Ethan were the many times he'd tried to kill the Hale Pack in the past, how close they'd gotten to losing Boyd, if not for Stiles and his magic.

Stiles couldn't argue with Scott though. Not just on the matter of Ethan, but… in general. He couldn't look at Scott, all he saw was the sword he'd driven through his best friend. All he could see was Allison's death. Scott couldn't look at him either, probably seeing the same things. Because the creature that had killed Allison had worn Stiles' face.

For weeks, he hated Peter. Truly, deeply hated Peter. Peter had made Stiles a promise. After the diagnosis, Peter had promised to kill him if he became a danger to those he loved and Peter had broken that promise. And sure, he wasn't sick, but the parameter hadn't changed. If Peter had kept his promise, instead of trying so desperately to save him, then Allison would still be alive.

"Hello, darling," Peter's voice was gentle as he approached Stiles with a plate. "Time for dinner. Come on, sweetheart, you have to eat."

Stiles stared at him with an empty gaze, even as the plate was put down in front of him. The wolf smiled and busied himself by cleaning up the room some.

"I see Erica has still not learned to clean up after herself," Peter heaved a sigh. "You know, at least she leaves her mess in your room now, instead of just my penthouse."

Erica and Isaac had been over earlier. Someone from the pack seemed to always be over. Fuss over him. Try to make him talk or laugh or… do anything, really. He just sat there, quietly, stuck in his head, assaulted by all the horrible things the demon had done, haunted by his screams and riddles.

"Lydia has taken Malia under her wing," Peter offered after a moment, at least managing to make Stiles look up at him. "Since she joined the pack. But she isn't a wolf. A coyote may be close enough in genetics, but… we're still quite different. I think she feels more of a kinship with Lydia and Kira, on behalf of not being wolves in a pack of wolves."

Stiles' eyes dropped onto the plate of food again. That was Granny Bonnie's famous lasagna. Boyd had taught them the recipe two months ago. The secret was that she used three types of cheese in it, sprinkling some of it between the layers of pasta too. Stiles had fallen in love with that and his praise had earned him the brightest smile he'd ever seen on Boyd's face. He listlessly poked the food. Everything tasted stale these days anyway and he wasn't really hungry.

"Half the plate," Peter near pleaded with him. "I'm not going until you eat at least half the plate. I am not above calling Bonnie myself to tell her you refuse her lasagna, darling."

Bonnie Boyd could be a very loud and fierce woman. She had startled the living daylights out of Stiles, that time him and Erica had been over for dinner at the Boyds. A cheeky and very open-minded lady too, who'd asked Boyd if these two cuties were his girlfriend and boyfriend. Erica, the bastard menace she was, had immediately played into it, while Boyd and Stiles were dying in their struggle to correct her, both flustered and embarrassed. The faintest ghost of a smile spread over his lips as he remembered that afternoon. He spiked some lasagna with his fork and started eating, ignoring the happy and proud look on Peter's face.

/break\

The first time Peter had entered the Stilinski house through the front door – whenever he'd visit his boy previously, he had taken to climbing into his bedroom through the window, the way the entire pack seemed to be doing – he'd found the sheriff slumped over on the couch, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in his hand. Peter's eyes had flashed blue as he ripped the bottle away from the man and stormed into the kitchen to empty it down the drain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing, Hale?" Noah snarled, lunging after him.

"I know how you handled the loss of your wife," Peter's voice was a vicious hiss, his eyes flashing blue. "Or rather, how you didn't handle it. I'll not stand by and let you do it again."

The sheriff flinched away from him as though he'd been slapped in the face, before anger took over again. "That's none of your business. You come into my house and insult me."

"I come into your house to take care of you," Peter growled out, baring his fangs. "Your son needs you, he doesn't need you lost in a bottle."

"Don't tell me what my son needs!" Noah's face was red in anger. "I'm trying! I tried everything. I tried pushing him, I tried giving him space, I tried comforting him, I tried… I tried… And he just… stares right through me like I'm not even there. You don't get to tell me how I handle that."

"Yes, I do," Peter spat. "Because I made a promise to Stiles and I'm going to keep it."

Because I promised him something else too and I didn't keep it and every time he looks at me, I smell the resentment coiling off of him, Peter thought viciously. He knew Stiles resented him for not killing him. Stiles needed someone to blame and Peter accepted that blame, he'd rather have Stiles blame him than himself. But the other promise, he could keep. He'd promised Stiles to take care of his father. He'd smelt the alcohol on the sheriff, during the last official pack meeting. Because those were now things the sheriff attended too, to stay on top of the supernatural threats to Beacon Hills.

"Why would you…" Noah trailed off, looking lost and like the fight was slowly leaving him.

Peter pursed his lips, leaning against the kitchen counter, the empty bottle standing next to him. "When we all thought that Stiles was going to die, that he was sick, he came to me and made me promise I'd take care of you if he died. Because you lost yourself in a bottle over your wife's death already and he was afraid that if he died, you'd drown yourself in it and he didn't want to bear that on his conscience. He didn't want to bear his father's death on his conscience. That was what Stiles was concerned about when he thought that he was dying."

This time, Noah did recoil from him, a horrified expression on his face. Peter didn't back down though, because this was good. This wasn't resignation, it wasn't giving up, it was a reaction.

"Your son isn't dead," Peter growled, clawed hands clinging onto the counter. "You didn't lose him, he didn't die. I… I do understand how much it must be affecting you to see him like that, but he's still alive and he needs you, so get your shit together and be there for him, even if it hurts you."

With that, Peter had stomped upstairs to check on Stiles, drowning in the scent of resentment and choking on the lack of verbal responses from Stiles, even as Peter determinedly changed the bedding just to have something to do.

Every day after that, Peter came by the Stilinski house. To make sure there was no new alcohol. To deliver food. To make sure both Stilinski men were eating (something that wasn't unhealthy take out, in the sheriff's case). Him, Boyd, Isaac and Kira were taking turns cooking meals for the Stilinskis. Most days, at least one member of their pack would accompany Peter. Other days, they'd drop by to visit Stiles when Peter was already out again or hadn't been in yet. The betas would update Stiles on school and how the rest of the McCall Pack was doing, or on what monster of the week they were chasing. Trying to keep him engaged even as he refused to engage with them.

Every day, Peter came to talk to an unresponsive Stiles, until gradually, the stench of resentment started to disperse, until finally, Stiles' scent started softening around him again and Peter felt like he could breathe again, for the first time in months.

/break\

Stiles should have gone after Gerard and killed him after the kanima incident. But he'd prioritized Boyd and Erica's safety over vengeance and he found it hard to regret that, because with both the Darach and the Alpha Pack on the loose, who knew what may have happened to them. Still, he hated that he hadn't gotten rid of the man sooner, now that he'd returned to Beacon Hills for his own revenge. He called himself the Benefactor and set out a deadpool on every supernatural in Beacon Hills, to rid the town of them all. Not that Stiles caught too much of that.

He'd been so detached after the Nogitsune, for three weeks, he just hid in his bedroom, not talking, only eating when his dad or Peter, or worse yet both, would force him to. At one point, he had to go back to school, but he was more so going through the motions than anything else.

Most of the pack tried to coax him out of it, didn't give up on him. Even when he pushed them away, ignored them, couldn't bring himself to talk to them. They kept coming, kept him updated on the Benefactor and on Lydia's Banshee powers and on the McCall Pack.

He preferred when the pack babysat him in sets of two, because then they would at least talk with each other, it took some pressure off of Stiles. At first, he had fully tuned them out then. But slowly, he started to… listen. Appreciate hearing their voices, having them close by.

Still, his favorite person during that time was Derek. Because Derek had never been overly talkative and unlike everyone else, Derek didn't try to make him talk. When Derek broke into Stiles' bedroom, the former Alpha would just sit down next to him on the bed and be a quiet, near comforting presence. A firm and warm line where Derek's arm and leg would be pressed against Stiles'. No pressure to talk or interact or… or even just to get better. Derek knew how long healing could take, with Derek, Stiles didn't feel like he owed him a fast recovery.

After Derek, his favorite was Jackson. Because Jackson wasn't physically here. Jackson didn't give Stiles any intense looks, didn't require listening or talking. Jackson lived on Stiles' phone. It had been Lydia's gentle suggestion, that Stiles should reach out to her long distance boyfriend, casually mentioning that Jackson had struggled with his kanima trauma too, with the guilt over the people someone else had forced him to kill, the fear of losing time. Stiles' breath had hitched as that resonated with his own experience with the Nogitsune. Jackson became the first person Stiles opened up to about the Nogitsune, about what the possession had been like and a huge, huge part for that was the similar trauma but also the distance. Texting was easier than talking.

Relaxing in Derek's presence and texting Jackson had been the first real, big steps in his recovery. Okay, no, that wasn't true. The first big step was letting Peter feed him and allowing Peter to coax him into baths and… fuck, the wolf had practically kept him alive those first three weeks, hadn't he? And Stiles had… spent that time actively hating him, which Peter must have smelt. Yet still he kept coming back, every single day. Why. Why hadn't he given up?

"You… You're cooking."

Stiles blinked and turned around to face his dad. Oh. He had hoped his dad would be at work for a little longer. But then they never left him unsupervised for too long, even now that he was sporadically talking again, was attending school and let himself be roped into the occasional video game with Boyd and Isaac. The look on his father's face nearly broke Stiles' heart, it was so much joy and relief and just a little fear, like he was afraid this wasn't real.

"Sitting…" Stiles swallowed. "Sitting in bed all day doesn't do anything either."

Because there were crazy assassins in their city trying to kill everyone Stiles loved and he felt like he hadn't really contributed. Sure, Lydia and Kira had camped out in his room a lot and he'd helped with research, but there was… a distance. He'd kept everyone at a distance. When was the last time he'd spent time with Scott…? At all, outside of school? He couldn't remember.

The spatula fell from his hand when he did remember and he swallowed down his tears. He'd gone to the drive-in theater with Scott, Allison and Lydia, for a special showing of the original trilogy, finally forcing Scott to watch Star Wars. The girls had kept giggling and giving commentary. Scott had fallen asleep a third into the first movie, Stiles had been so indignant about that and Allison had thrown popcorn at her mate for it, making Stiles call her his favorite, at which she'd preened, all dimples and bright smile and… and then he'd killed her, a few weeks later.

"Kiddo? Stiles? Stiles, talk to me, what just happened?" Noah sounded afraid. "Mietek?"

Stiles jerked away from the stove to turn toward his dad at that. Mietek. His parents used to call him that, before he'd gone to school and gotten the nickname 'Stiles' there. Blinking, Stiles practically launched himself at his dad, wrapping his arms around the man and just… crying.

"I killed her," Stiles gasped out. "I killed her, I killed Allison. She's gone and it's because of me."

"Oh, kiddo," Noah sounded wrecked as he wrapped his arms around him. "No. No, no, no, it's not because of you. She died to save you and we did it, we saved you, son."

But did you? Stiles wondered. It had been months now. He'd isolated himself, hadn't talked for over a month. Kept everyone at an arm's length. Was ungrateful for their attempts to be there for him, resentful even. Still hated himself for what had happened. If he'd been stronger, the Nogitsune wouldn't have possessed him, or he could have fought it off, or… or… anything.

"Nobody blames you for being ungrateful, Mietek," Noah spoke gently. "Nobody. They all understand that you weren't ready to heal yet, that's why you pushed us away. But they also, we also know that we couldn't let you push us away. If we hadn't pushed, hadn't been persistent, I… I know you may have given up, because you may have… may have felt alone… may have felt like we had given up on you. We needed to show you that we haven't given up on you, so you won't give up on yourself. I didn't… I didn't see that at first. But Peter made me understand."

"Peter?" Stiles croaked out in confusion.

Not Hale? Stiles was fairly sure he'd never heard his dad talk about Peter as anything but 'Hale'. The man's corrupt morals and easily murderous attitude rubbed the sheriff the wrong way, plus their past experiences as law enforcement and vindictive defense lawyer.

"Yeah," Noah chuckled dryly. "I may have befriended your wolf. He's been very… persistent, not just in taking care of you, you know. Bastard keeps bringing me healthy food. Kept… Kept taking my alcohol away too, until I finally manged to no longer buy any."

Stiles' hands shook a little where they clung into his father's shirt. Noah didn't meet his eyes.

"I'm not proud of that, kiddo," Noah admitted softly, a screwed up expression on his face. "I should have been stronger, for you, but… all I could think about was losing your mom and how much I felt like I was losing you too. The kids too, they kept checking in with me. Kira and Malia brought me lunch to the station occasionally. Derek forcibly removed me from the station after a double shift to keep me from overworking myself. But Peter… he… he's been a constant presence in this house ever since we broke the possession. And I'm grateful for it. He's a good man."

Stiles' heart skipped a beat. Now he felt even more guilty about the way he'd treated Peter. With furrowed brows did he return his attention to the gnocchi he was making.

"Dad," Stiles whispered determined. "Can we… go somewhere together?"

/break\

Peter was so exhausted, deep down to the core of his bones. They were still hunting down Gerard, the man was slippery as an eel. He had work, currently he was really regretting getting his license back. Unemployment sounded enticing. There were his betas he had to take care of, all frazzled from the literal assassins trying to kill them, all worried for Stiles, the glue that had held them together since the Hale Pack had first formed, and he also had a daughter now.

He was still reeling from the realization that Malia Tate was really Malia Hale, his daughter, the daughter he didn't remember because his sister, his Alpha, had stolen his memories of the little girl and given her up for adoption, never giving Peter a chance to become a father. The two of them were tentatively dancing around each other, nearing each other more and more, both broken and carrying their own trauma that made trust come hard to them.

And then there was Stiles, Stiles who was making progress, small and slow progress but definitely progress, finally healing from the ordeal of the possession. He was doing things on his own again now, Peter had taken to only visiting every second day, so he could divide his attention between all the other things he had to take care of.

What came short was, well, Peter. He heaved a dreadful sigh as he approached his penthouse. Whenever it was his turn to cook for the Stilinskis, he'd make more and put it aside for himself. When it wasn't his turn to cook for them though, he had resorted to take-out again. The bad habit Stiles had helped him get rid of with pack-night cooking, with inviting a pack of pups into Peter's den who would just take over his kitchen whenever they felt like it (not Erica and Lydia though, they were very explicitly forbidden from touching anything in the kitchen aside from the fridge).

His usually pristine home could also use some cleaning up. Dirty laundry had been piling in the bedroom to the point that Peter had just gone out and bought new Henleys this week. He wasn't proud of that, but it had been less work and easier than doing laundry. He just didn't have the time or energy to take care of these things, they simply didn't rank high enough on his priorities. Number one was Stiles and, consequently, Noah (and Peter was still proud that the sheriff had offered his first name a month into Peter's persistent visits at the Stilinskis. Prouder still of every time the man would simply sit with him and talk to him, like they were friends), Gerard, the assassins, Malia, his pack, and to a certain extend even the McCall Pack.

Which was its own whole issue, quite frankly. Kira and Malia were one thing, but Peter was still appalled by Scott's readiness to forgive the former Alpha twins at all (he was still appalled that Scott had decided to let them and Deucalion get away – would have let the Darach get away if Peter hadn't torn out her throat, but sadly Peter couldn't be everywhere). And now Scott 'I never wanted the bite, it is a curse, how dare you start turning fully informed, consenting teenagers, Derek' McCall had turned someone! And the kid came with his own mini entourage. Not that Peter cared. Stiles was who made him care, Stiles had dragged Derek's betas into Peter's life, had then proceeded to bring Kira and Malia into his life too. But Stiles was too checked out from, quite frankly, everything to be expected to do the emotional labor of getting invested in new people right now, he didn't even have the capacity to take care of himself or the ones he already had (though Peter also suspected that the growing distance between Scott and Stiles added to that too; Stiles may have taken on the role of Pack Mom in the McCall Pack when it had first formed, but Peter could only imagine that the bond between Alpha and Pack Mom was brittle at best right now, so Stiles lacked the attachment to the betas Scott brought into the pack).

Regardless of all of that, Peter knew he needed to step it up and take more responsibility for his own life again. Buying new shirts instead of laundry had been a kick in the butt for him. This weekend, he was going to do laundry, clean the apartment and then check on his mate.

With that thought in mind did Peter unlock his door, startled to find the lights on and a flood of noises assaulting him when for the past weeks, the place had been deafeningly quiet. Where their pack used to come to Peter's place to hang out, they'd more or less moved on to Stiles', to provide Stiles with the comfort and pack feeling he needed to heal. And that was good. Honestly, Peter had never wanted the messy and loud teenagers in his designer apartment to begin with. It had been Stiles who'd dragged them there anyway, so with Stiles no longer coming over – not really leaving the house aside for school, so it wasn't personal, Peter reminded himself, as he did every time he noticed that Stiles' scent had fully faded from his apartment at this point – why would they?

"Why are all your shirts made out of some 'handwash only' expensive materials," Isaac complained, carrying a heap of laundry. "Buy normal shirts."

Peter blinked startled, watching the beta carry the clothes from Peter's bedroom to the bathroom. He could hear the vacuum and when he turned toward the living room, he saw Malia with it. Not far from her stood Kira, dusting off the shelves. Malia lifted her gaze to regard Peter for a moment, nodding at her father before turning her attention to Kira and kissing her cheek casually. The action made Kira squeak and blush – the kitsune was still a little skittish about PDA in front of Peter, on account of him being Malia's father. Not that Peter minded, and he had told them both so (which had earned him a growl from Malia about how she didn't need his permission or approval).

Erica came skittering into the room, literally, sliding on the floor in her socks, a broad grin on her lips as she motioned down at the hallway's floor. Peter followed the motion and stared at his reflection. There'd been a large stain about here, where he'd dropped the pasta yesterday on his way out, in such a hurry to get to the Stilinskis before Noah got home from work. He hadn't had the time to clean it up and when he got home late at night, hadn't had the energy to do so.

"Look!" Erica grinned, pointing again. "Took me forever to remove the pasta sauce from the wall, by the way. I will be using the fact that you made a mess as blackmail material in the future."

And then she just wrapped her arms around him, her hand resting just below his back and running down his spine. Scent-marking him. Peter's breath hitched a little before he wrapped his own arms around his favorite pup, drawing her close enough so he could bury his nose in her hair.

"Thank you, darling girl," Peter offered, voice only a little shaky.

"Your office is an absolute mess," Lydia criticized as she walked up to them. "I organized your files and proof read your closing argument. Not your best work. I gave you some notes."

She regarded him with the usual amount of judgment but an unusual amount of concern and then she rested a hand on his arm and ran it down to his hand slowly. Scent-marking him. He took another shaky breath and each one felt like he could breath a little easier. When Erica let go of him, he practically fled into his bedroom, closing the door firmly behind himself. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, leaning against the door. He didn't know what to do with this. What was happening here? Why were they here? Why were they doing all these things?

"You okay, uncle Peter?"

Peter jerked away from the door, eyes wide open so he could stare at his nephew, who was… changing Peter's sheets. Derek frowned at him with clear concern. How had Peter not noticed that the other wolf was in his bedroom when he'd entered? This was all too bizarre, it was messing with his senses, he was overwhelmed. Shaking his head, Peter went to sit down on the bed.

"What is going on here," Peter asked softly. "Why are you all here? What are you doing?"

"Ever since I lost my Alpha spark, you've been taking care of this pack," Derek spoke just as softly and sat down next to Peter. "I was too busy grieving and… working through things… to really notice, or appreciate it. But you've been taking care of all of us. When we were all folded into the McCall Pack, you kept giving us a space to be us."

Derek paused for a moment, regarding Peter intensely. "We've all been so busy trying to take care of Stiles, and solving the deadpool, we… didn't notice how much you've been taking care of us. It's time someone took care of you, uncle Peter. You're being a good Alpha to our pack, but… even the Alpha shouldn't shoulder everything on his own. That's a lesson you and Stiles taught me when I was still Alpha. So this is your pack taking care of you."

"I'm not…" Peter swallowed hard. "I'm not an Alpha, Derek."

Humming, Derek nodded. "You're right. You're not an Alpha. But you're still our Alpha."

Peter didn't know what to do with that either. He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. Derek rested a heavy hand on Peter's shoulder for a long moment, just sitting in silence with him.

"Go to the kitchen," Derek instructed him.

Furrowing his brows, Peter got up and followed Derek's instruction. On his way, he passed the living room where Erica was now helping Kira dust, while bickering with Malia. He froze in the doorway to the kitchen. The sheriff was setting the table, laughing at something Boyd had said. Next to Boyd at the stove stood Stiles. In Peter's kitchen.

"Welcome home," Stiles greeted him with a small smile before turning to Boyd. "Stir this?"

Boyd nodded and took the spoon from Stiles. "Hey, Peter. Stiles made your mom's gnocchi and I made my grandma's lasagna. Dinner'll be ready in ten."

Peter nodded dazed. Stiles had cooked. Stiles hadn't cooked in months. And here. In Peter's den. One of the recipes from Peter's mother. One of Peter's favorite comfort foods.

"Why don't you go with Stiles for a moment, Peter?" Noah suggested, patting him on the back.

That was when Peter noticed the fidgeting Spark in front of him. Stiles avoided Peter's eyes, but at his father's words, Stiles nodded and led the way out onto the balcony. Peter followed wordlessly, still not entirely sure what was happening here. Sliding the door closed behind them, Stiles took a deep breath of the cold night air before leaning against the balustrade. His eyes were on the skyline.

"I'm sorry," Stiles whispered into the night.

"What?" Peter blinked, thrown by this. "Whatever are you sorry for, darling?"

Stiles' face twisted into a grimace. "You… You have done so much in these past months for me and I… didn't treat you the way you deserved. I blamed you for… for…"

"For not killing you," Peter supplied dryly. "I'm aware."

Stiles hummed and nodded, a detached expression on his face. "I'm sorry. Not just for… how I treated you, but for… asking you to do that in the first place. That wasn't… fair to you."

"You don't have to apologize to me for that," Peter assured him, voice gentle. "I did… understand why you asked that of me. I'm sorry for promising something I couldn't keep though. When we knew that you were possessed, I… couldn't accept any outcome that didn't include saving you."

"I know," Stiles whispered, blinking up at the moon. "I would have done the same for every single one of you. I wouldn't have given up, I'd have rather died trying than lose any of you. I know that things were different, I know you… may have actually done what you promised, if it had been the… dementia. I know the Nogitsune changed things and I'm… I shouldn't have blamed you. But it was just… it was so much easier to be angry with you than to…"

"Than to deal with how complicated and painful reality was," Peter quirked his lips. "I'm well aware of that too, darling. I never took it personal, I know that you were too busy dealing with your pain. When I last went through a largely traumatic event, I went on a murderous rampage afterward. I think that some angry glares and the cold shoulder can be forgiven."

"That doesn't make my behavior okay," Stiles insisted. "I appreciate that you're forgiving me, but I need you to acknowledge that you do deserve better, Peter, because you do."

Peter gripped the rail in front of him hard and chanced a glance at his boy. There was determination burning in Stiles' eyes as he fixated Peter with a single look, filled with emotions that Peter couldn't even begin to name. It was enough to take the wolf's breath away.

"Stiles," Peter's voice dropped into the most gentle whisper. "The fact that you think so means a lot to me. You… Darling, you took care of me when I had nothing to hold onto. And I don't think I was too grateful to you back then either, I did give you quite a hard time about every stray pup you dragged into my apartment and let you feel my annoyance. I just returned the favor of providing you with what you needed when you weren't ready to accept that need yourself."

The fierce glare on Stiles' face melted with a snort and the next moment, Stiles leaned against him head tilted sideways to rest against Peter's shoulder. Peter was grateful Stiles wasn't a wolf and couldn't hear the way his heart was racing at the contact. Closing his eyes, Peter inhaled his mate's soothing and lovely scent and was taken aback by just how much Stiles smelt like Stiles again. The constant scent of misery and self-loathing seemed nearly gone, after all this time.

"You were kind of an ass about the betas being in your penthouse at first," Stiles agreed belatedly, voice dry and with a hint of sarcasm. "You threatened Jackson with a newspaper once."

"Was I wrong though?" Peter laughed and wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist.

"You… You don't mind that I brought them all, right?" Stiles whispered unsure. "I just, dad told me… He told me that you're the one who organized the Stiles-sitting schedule, that you… did keep your promise about taking care of him too… And I… I wanted to do something nice for you, so I thought we could have a pack night. But when we got to your apartment, it…"

"It was a mess," Peter offered with a sigh. "I have been… busy lately."

"Yeah, that's what the betas realized too," Stiles tilted his head to look up at Peter. "They also realized that their scents were really faint. We used to be here multiple days a week, but… everyone's been so busy taking care of me, and their own drama…"

"That's quite alright," Peter reassured him with a small smile. "I'm a grown man, Stiles, I can take care of myself. Even if the apartment may have been a bit of a mess when you got here."

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of Peter's shirt, between his shoulder-blades. "You're an idiot. Pack takes care of each other, Peter. How can we take care of each other if we can't even keep our pack den smelling like pack? This is a sleep-over, by the way. We will only leave this place once it sufficiently smells like pack again."

Our pack den. Peter's heart skipped a beat and he could only nod. The grip on his shirt loosened so Stiles could run his hand down Peter's back, before drawing him in for a tight hug. It was lovely how well Stiles fit into his arms, head tucked under Peter's chin and leaning into him.

"Boyd says dinner is ready," Malia announced as she opened the balcony door. "I'm hungry."

Both Peter and Stiles snorted and broke their hug to follow her inside. The kitchen was bustling with life as their entire pack sat together around the table, the sheriff and Derek on one end of the long table, Lydia, Malia and Kira on one length and Boyd, Erica and Isaac opposite them. Peter and Stiles took the only empty seats at the head of the table and Peter couldn't fathom the warmth he felt as he looked at his pack. His eyes wandered from one to the next, until they ultimately settled on his mate at his right. The Alpha and the Alpha Mate, at the head of the table.

Maybe it was time they stopped being on the fringe of the McCall Pack. Maybe it was time for them to wholly be the Hale Pack again. Maybe it was time Peter found an Alpha spark to claim.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Fractured Beyond Repair

However fractured the relationship between Stiles and Scott had been before, it fully broke the day Stiles and Peter went and killed Gerard Argent.

Stiles had figured out where the man was hiding early one morning, after yet another all-night research binge that Lydia and Kira had tapped out of around midnight. Lydia had kissed his cheek and sternly told him to go to bed too. He'd continued his research in his bed, so he technically had done as she'd ordered him to do, right?

He'd relayed that information to the pack, in the official pack group-chat. Stiles had two pack group-chats on his phone. One was months older than the other, that was still called Hale Pack, and one they had started back when the McCall Pack came to be. Back when Stiles had still been filled with rose-tinted optimism that his best friend would be a good Alpha, when it had been Scott, Allison, Stiles, Lydia and Isaac at the core of the McCall Pack and Peter, Derek, Boyd and Erica on the fringes of it. Yes, Stiles was very much aware of that and he understood the reasoning behind it, for each of the four. But back then, he'd naively thought they'd come around. That Scott would step up and things would… mend. Maybe that Allison would finally apologize to Boyd and Erica, maybe that Peter and Scott would begrudgingly find some kind of common ground, that Scott would accept the knowledge and experience of the born wolf.

None of that had happened though. And though Derek got over his hurt of losing the Alpha spark and healed, the distance between him and Scott remained charged with the tension of their past. Scott kept winging things, treating the pack more as a group of friends than an actual pack of werewolves. And so the Hale Pack group-chat remained and ended up what Stiles used most frequently. You could only be left hanging on 'read' so often before you gave up, after all. And that should have never been a surprise for Stiles, considering how often Scott had not picked up or even hung up on him in the past. It only got worse after the Nogitsune.

Stiles had struggled with reaching out at all and thanks to Jackson, texting came easier to him so he'd taken to using the group chat. What encouragement and replies he got had come from his Hale Pack though, and Lydia (who had been added to the Hale Pack group-chat already), Kira and Malia.

Nowadays, Stiles just saw discussions and conversations between near strangers in the McCall Pack group-chat. Ever since Scott had bitten Liam Dunbar. Scott had bitten someone. Stiles was still struggling with the reality of that and feeling hot anger burn in him on Derek's behalf. With Liam came Mason and then Hayden and then Corey. Theo was another crack in Stiles and Scott's relationship though, because Stiles made it abundantly clear that he did not trust Theo and yet he fell on deaf ears with Scott, going so far as Scott growling at Stiles to drop it one pack meeting. Stiles more or less checked out of the McCall Pack, not paying attention to what the pups were up to, or what new strays Scott was dragging into the pack, since his opinion didn't matter anyway.

Still, Scott was the Alpha of this territory. He needed to know their last major threat had been located and could be taken down. For a change, Stiles actually got a reply to that. Scott planned on going to confront Gerard, together with Theo and Liam, that evening, leaving after school.

By six thirty-two AM, Peter climbed into his car, where Stiles had already been sitting in and waiting for twenty minutes at that point. "What took you so long?"

Peter didn't exactly startle, because he must have smelt Stiles the moment he opened the car door, but he still looked mildly surprised. "How did you even get into my car."

Stiles rolled his eyes and adjusted the bag on his lap. "Please. When will you learn, Peter?"

A heavy sigh of utter resignation came from Peter (Stiles was very used to those and prided himself on them), but the look on his face changed into a firm scowl. "I'm driving you back home."

Raising both eyebrows, Stiles regarded the man utterly unimpressed. "No, you're not."

"Yes, I am," Peter's glare intensified.

Stiles raised his chin in challenge, holding Peter's gaze. "You and me are going to finish this together, the way we started it. When you forced your way into my car and asked me if we're going after Gerard, but I chose to go after Boyd and Erica instead. And I don't regret that, let me be very clear that I do not regret that decision, because we have no idea where those two would have ended up if we hadn't. If they'd run into the Alpha Pack, or the Darach, or Argent-aligned hunters who wanted to finish the job, or just generally pull through with running away."

Stiles paused for a moment, taking a breath. "But it was still my decision to not follow him back then and we had been unlucky tracking him ever since. So I'm going to come with you and we're going to finish this together."

Another minute went by of Peter trying to glare him into submission. It was really cute that the wolf thought that'd work. Stiles just tilted his head mockingly, until Peter finally sighed in defeat. Hah.

"I do not like this," Peter ground out as he started the car. "You barely…"

"Started being a functioning human again?" Stiles offered sarcastically. "Yep. But this is Gerard. He's not a demon in my head, he's just an old man who is already on his way to dying. And I still owe him for that little torturing session last year."

Stiles cracked his knuckles, turquoise sparks flying off his hands. He looked up into the rear-view mirror and saw his eyes glow a matching color. The time he spent alone in his bedroom, when he wasn't staring at the wall until his eyes watered, he'd started honing his skills. Maybe the one good thing about the possession was that having a magical trickster spirit trapped in his mind had unlocked that particular door and allowed Stiles more easy access to the magic. What had felt like a shallow puddle of magic before, now felt like a vast ocean, all at Stiles' disposal.

"Vengeance looks good on you, darling," Peter commented amused.

"Oh, shut up and drive," Stiles shot him a glare.

He got his phone out and opened the Hale Pack group-chat to let their pack know what they were doing. Running off without telling them would just worry the betas and if something happened to either Peter or Stiles, or worse yet both, someone should know where they were.

"Lydia is not a fan," Stiles announced two minutes later. "She says we should bring her too. Malia and Erica also think we should bring them. Isaac and Boyd think we shouldn't go. Jackson wants us to kick Gerard from him, which I will gladly do. Derek is… still typing."

"Tell the girls that it may draw too much attention if all of you are missing school on the day you found Gerard. You not attending won't be noticed, but they will make it look suspicious."

Stiles involuntarily flinched at Peter's words, his heart sinking. Yeah, Stiles not attending won't be noticed, will it? He'd been eating at a different cafeteria table ever since the Nogitsune, sitting with Boyd and Erica and, ever since Liam had been turned and became Scott's new pet-project, Isaac had fully joined them for lunch too, where before, he used to split his time, much like Stiles.

"I'm sorry," Peter's voice gentled. "That's not what I meant, darling…"

"No," Stiles shook his head bitterly. "You're right, after all."

They drove in silence, Stiles nursing the coffee he'd bought for himself before coming to Peter's car. There was another one in the cup-holder for Peter, just the way the man liked it. Breakfast sat in a paper bag on the backseat and was eaten during a quick pit-stop half an hour later, also in silence.

"We gonna flip a coin on who actually gets to kill Gerard?" Stiles asked casually when they finally pulled up at the motel the man was hiding at.

"Darling," Peter's voice was a deep purr that sent a shiver down Stiles' spine and so did the dark look in Peter's eyes. "And here I thought you came along as my back-up."

Raising one unimpressed eyebrow, Stiles lifted a hand to let his magic crackle around it, bright and electric like lighting but in a glowing teal color. "Not a defenseless human anymore. Not up for Scott's mercy gambles anymore either. Look where it got us."

Scott had let Gerard get away. Sure, on the very long run, what Scott had done was a death sentence, but it had left Gerard alive enough to get away and hatch a plan for his revenge that had already gotten many supernatural creatures in Beacon Hills killed. Scott had let Deucalion and the Alpha twins go with just zero consequences to their actions and the deaths they'd caused, hell he'd let Ethan join the pack like all of that didn't matter. Scott had let Jennifer Blake go, even though the woman had killed Stiles' childhood friend Heather and tried to kill their parents. That one, Stiles knew, Peter had taken care of though.

"Actually," Stiles declared in a chipper voice. "You killed the last two. This one is mine."

The look on Peter's face was nearly hungry and it startled Stiles. He tried not to think too hard about it, or how it made him feel. There'd always been something about Peter's attention that got to Stiles. The man could look at Stiles like he was the most marvelous thing on the entire damn planet. Even before the magic reveal, when Stiles had just been plain old lanky human disaster Stiles. Peter had always given him the feeling that the wolf respected Stiles. And that was already so much more than Stiles was used to from most people. But ever since the Hale Pack had really come together, by now over a year ago, there seemed to be a near reverence to the way Peter regarded him. Stiles knew that was because Peter had caught on with the way Stiles had forcibly integrated Peter into the pack and the wolf was grateful for the push Stiles had given him. The look on Peter's face now though, it felt… different. And it made Stiles feel different too.

"Let's go kill ourselves a hunter," Stiles got out of the car quickly.

His heart was racing and he tried to convince himself that was because he was about to commit his first intentional murder (Allison and Aiden and the dead deputies didn't count. They weren't his fault. He hadn't killed them. He kept telling himself that over and over again, in the hopes that one day, he may believe it himself, the way his pack seemed to believe it. He was so close).

It was painfully easy to get to Gerard. There was no security, he had no loyal followers anymore. Just an old, dying man, sitting and coughing in his motel room. Peter stood behind the man, holding him by the shoulder with one hand and by the throat with the other, claws digging into skin in a mirror of how Peter had killed Kate. Yet he did not rip it out.

"For you, sweetheart," Peter thrust the hunter forward like an offering.

"You do get me the sweetest gifts, Zombiewolf," Stiles huffed amused.

Gerard gurgled out profanities and protests between coughing fits until Stiles had enough. He had perfect control over mountain ash at this point. His eyes flared up with his magic as he lifted a hand and the squirming man in front of him went perfectly still.

"You can let him go," Stiles told Peter. "I got him."

For a moment, Peter looked confused, but he trusted Stiles and stepped away. Grinning at Peter, Stiles waved his hand and made Gerard turn around, a chuckle falling from Stiles' lips.

"There is so much mountain ash in his system for me to control, he's like a puppet to my magic."

When he turned toward Gerard, the amusement was replaced with cold, murderous intent. "Yeah, look at that. The weak human you had so much fun kicking the shit out of got magic."

He could see the fear in Gerard's eyes and it sent a thrill through Stiles. That probably should be a concern, but this man had kidnapped and tortured Stiles and his betas, had terrorized their town, had brainwashed Allison, had abused Chris and broken the man, had killed countless people. This man who thought he was at the top of the food chain? He deserved to be afraid.

Stiles twisted the man's arms behind his back, until a pained grunt escaped the hunter. Peter had gone to take a seat on the bed, casually leaning back and watching Stiles.

"How are you going to do it, darling?" Peter asked curiously. "Snap him in half with your magic?"

It was the lack of judgment, the genuine curiosity, the… admiration in Peter's voice that thrilled Stiles all the more. Scott didn't understand, Scott wanted to talk to Gerard like the man could be reasoned with. Scott thought murder should never be the answer. Peter understood when something was necessary. When it was inevitable, the only choice left. It was so easy being with Peter, the man understood parts of Stiles that even Stiles struggled with at times. When the two of them worked together on research or in Peter's kitchen, it was easier than breathing. And this felt strangely alike. Working with Peter was the most natural thing to him at this point.

"No," Stiles hummed. "We don't want to draw attention. Supernatural murders draw attention."

He turned his back on Gerard, not even a little worried, safe in the knowledge that his magic was holding the man. He put on the leather gloves he'd brought and then went for the nightstand. Ah. As he'd expected, a gun. Gerard's favorite gun, with his name engraved.

"Much more poetic to kill a hunter with his own weapon," Stiles stated.

He checked if it was loaded, then removed the safety and cocked it, aiming it straight at Gerard's head. Peter behind him hummed but didn't comment otherwise. To be a little more dramatic, Stiles used his magic to force Gerard into spreading his arms wide, like he was accepting his execution.

"You fucked up Chris. You raised a murderous sociopath who wiped out an innocent pack. You took me and you took my betas and you tortured us. You concocted this bullshit revenge plot and killed so many innocent people. Killed even more over the course of your miserable existence," Stiles tilted his head, gun steady in his hand. "And for all of that, you're going to die."

He waited for the realization and despair to set in, for Gerard to catch on with what was happening. That the boy in front of him was very much serious. Only then, when he could see the fear of his impending death in Gerard's eyes, did Stiles pull the trigger. Blood started running down the man's face from the hole between his eyes but he remained upright thanks to Stiles' magic. He took only a moment to revel in it before dropping the body and then also dropping the gun.

"Let's go before someone comes investigate," Stiles instructed. "I'm hungry. We passed a diner on the way here, right? You're paying for lunch, since I brought breakfast."

"Anything you want, darling," Peter promised darkly.

He caught up to Stiles and put a hand between Stiles' shoulder-blades, slowly running down to rest on his lower back. Stiles didn't think much of it, letting the wolf guide him like that. He was happy that Peter had gotten more touchy all on his own, which was ironic considering how much he used to tease the Creeperwolf about these things. But positive contact between pack? Stiles was glad Peter felt comfortable seeking that out.

Before they left, he made sure to erase any physical trace of their presence from the place. The cameras of the motel and any surrounding traffic cameras had been dealt with beforehand already, Stiles cashing in a favor from Danny.

They did stop at the diner for burgers, fries and milkshakes and Peter looked weirdly pleased when he paid for the meal. Probably the wolf providing for his pack instinct. He knew how happy it made Peter to host pack-nights and to cook with Stiles, Boyd and Kira for their pack.

"It's weird, right?" Stiles whispered when they were back in Peter's car, on their way back to Beacon Hills. "I should feel… something. Some kind of remorse. I did just take a human life, but… all I feel is… relief. A sense of safety. He's gone. He can't hurt us anymore."

"That's not weird at all, darling," Peter reached one hand out to rest on Stiles' thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze. "He was a threat to you and to your pack. It's instincts, to take that threat out. He hurt you in the past so feeling relief at the prospect that he won't be able to hurt you again isn't strange either. You did the right thing. And, if I may be so blunt, you did it beautifully."

"I feel compelled to say 'thank you' but I also don't think I should accept compliments on my murder skills," Stiles drawled dryly.

"It's an honest compliment on your skills, period," Peter admonished. "Your control of your magic has gotten… terrifyingly precise, darling. And I didn't even know you could use a gun, much less that you were such an accurate shot. Why do you run around with a bat again, sweetheart?"

"Because Scott doesn't like guns," Stiles cleared his throat, the mood suddenly dropping. "I'll text the pack. We should have a pack meeting about this, before Scott goes and finds the body himself."

The rest of the car ride was tense and quiet and what ensued when they reached the loft, where the entire pack was gathered, was the final straw for the friendship between Stiles and Scott. Unsurprisingly did Scott not take it well when Peter and Stiles told the pack where they'd been. "Why would you do that. I told you that I would take care of it."

"No," Stiles raised his chin. "You said you'd go and talk to him. Peter and I took care of it."

Scott stood opposite Stiles, near the center of the living room. Stiles had stepped up to meet the Alpha's challenge, Peter a comforting presence to his left, but staying back. Letting Stiles handle this. The rest of the pack was seated or standing more or less in a circle around them.

While Stiles' focus was on Scott, he didn't notice the fact that Ethan, Theo, Liam, Corey, Hayden and Mason stood behind Scott, while Derek, Lydia, Isaac, Boyd, Erica, Malia and Kira had found their places behind and around Stiles and Peter as soon as the two had entered the loft. Battle lines were drawn and sides were chosen, while the two boys at the center of it all remained oblivious to it and were solely focused on each other.

"You killed someone!" Scott barked out, flashing his eyes red. "I'm the Alpha and I gave an order. I said that I would take care of it. Not only did you disobey me, you also took a life. There are no murderers in my pack! That's all him, isn't it? All Peter's influence, his fault."

His voice turned into a dark growl, a note of finality to it. Stiles flinched away, not from the red eyes, fangs and growl, but from the words thrown at him. His heart sank when he realized something. Peter was not the only one to take a step toward Stiles, both triggered by the flinching but also the change in his scent. And then, all of a sudden, Stiles radiated a near unnatural calmness as he finally made peace with something he may have known for a long time at that point.

"You're not my Alpha, Scott, you don't give me orders," Stiles replied softly.

This time, it was Scott who flinched away, a shocked expression on his face. "What. Of course I-"

"But you just said that there are no murderers in your pack," Stiles' lips twisted into the mockery of a smile. "I haven't been a part of your pack since I killed Allison, have I?"

The entire room fell quiet at that, nobody even moved. The look on Scott's face was a complicated blend of guilt, hurt, confusion and anger. Peter took Stiles' hand, his thumb running over the inside of his wrist and Stiles knew what his wolf wanted to say to him, so Stiles beat him to it.

"Only that I didn't kill Allison," Stiles spat, anger rising in him again. "The demon that stole my body, that violated my mind, killed Allison. And everyone kept telling me that over and over again these past months. Even Chris did, before he left for France. He came to visit me and we talked for three hours. About Allison, about my guilt. He told me that he didn't blame me. I just never could believe them, regardless of how often they told me. I think I figured out why now. Because of you."

Stiles shook off Peter's hand and took two steps forward, until he was all up in Scott's face. "Because you still blame me and a part of me… a part of me still saw you as my moral compass. If you deem it wrong, it had to be wrong. If you blame me, I have to be at fault."

"I don't… I don't blame you for what happened with Allison," Scott's voice was small.

"Bullshit," Stiles spat, shoving against Scott's chest in anger. "When was the last time you visited my house? When was the last time you and I hung out, outside of pack meetings? Do you know how long it took you to be able to even just fucking look me in the eyes again? You keep adding new people to the pack without even consulting me, you made Theo your Right Hand, even after I kept telling you that I don't trust him, and even after all this time of me having my magic, you never even considered asking me to be your Emissary. You haven't trusted me in a long time, Scott."

Stiles was shaking with the emotions that he was finally letting loose, after all these months. "You are supposed to be my Alpha. You're supposed to be my best friend. You're supposed to be my brother. But you weren't there when I needed you the most. You know who was there? Peter. You want to blame Peter for this? Sure, blame him. Blame him in the sense that I may not even be fucking alive right now to have this conversation with you, if not for him. Because he took care of me when I didn't take care of myself."

Stiles shook his head and took another step back. "But this? This isn't on Peter. This is all me. I don't have any mercy left to give, Scott. Not for those who actively, gleefully try to kill us."

The expression on Scott's face showed him that the other boy still disagreed with him though. Still thought Stiles shouldn't have killed. Still looked at the world in the strangest shade of gray. He used to think of Scott as a black and white thinker, but even those had a strong distinction between good and bad. And Scott lacked that. To Scott, even pitch-black should be given a chance because surely, there was enough white in there deep down somewhere to deserve another chance. Scott thought in gray, exclusively in gray, and he thought he could cherry-pick the white pigments out of it, ignore or see past the black in the gray. But sometimes, the white was drowned out in black.

"We're done, Scott," Stiles' voice was barely a whisper as he turned around, back toward the wolf. "You're not my Alpha. You're not my brother. You haven't been either in a long time, but I was too desperately clinging to the past to accept it. It's time to let go."

He left with quick strides and started sprinting the moment he was out of the loft, right to Roscoe, starting the car and driving off. He wasn't even consciously aware where he was going until he pulled up to his regular parking spot in the parking garage of Peter's apartment building. Blinking owlishly, he considered driving off again to head to the house, but in the end, with a look at his shaking hands, he marveled at the fact that he'd made it here in one piece. Turning off the car, Stiles headed out. He waved at Milly the receptionist, who smiled at him, before he headed to the elevator.

Once he was in Peter's apartment, he went to his comfort place. The library. Because of course did Peter have a whole room dedicated to the old tombs and rare books he'd gathered on the supernatural over the year. When Stiles had first come in here, there'd only been a desk and two chairs. By now, there was a comfortable L-shaped couch that Stiles, Lydia, Kira and Peter had spent many late evenings on researching for the pack. Stiles grabbed his comfort blanket off the living room couch – it was very fluffy and soft and warm – and went to the library to curl together.

He had only half an hour to himself before the door opened. He assumed it to be Peter, but there were too many footsteps and moments later, Peter, Derek, Lydia, Erica, Boyd, Kira, Isaac and Malia crammed into the library. It was a big room, but not that big. Stiles stared at them in surprise.

"What are you guys doing here?" Stiles asked.

"I happen to live here," Peter offered with a look. "The better question is what you are doing here. We all went to your house, just to find it empty."

"Yes, no, of course you live here," Stiles rolled his eyes and motioned at the rest. "You guys. You're gonna get in trouble with Scott. I don't want this to become a whole thing."

"Stiles," Lydia aimed a disappointed look at Stiles. "Don't be dense, it doesn't become you."

Erica and Kira sat down on the couch on either side of Stiles, squishing him between them. Malia and Boyd came to take the spots next to their mates. Stiles stared at them all with a frown.

"You're our pack," Erica glared at him, which was undermined by the way she rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "Screw Scott. You really think that if we have to pick between him and you, we'd ever pick him? Like, seriously? C'mon, Batman."

"You're wolves," Stiles argued with mild distress, gesturing wildly at her and the rest of the pack. "Look, I never questioned your loyalty and friendship to me, okay? But I'm not a wolf, I don't need a pack. I'll be fine without. You won't. Wolves need a pack."

"We have a pack, Stiles," Derek smiled at him amused.

"A proper pack! With an Alpha and everything! Not just a bunch of betas," Stiles glared at Derek.

"I…" Peter trailed off, brows furrowed. "I have been working on trying to track down a rogue Alpha for a while, but it's… not as fruitful or quick work as I'd hoped. And none of you have to follow me, if I do. I'd understand if you'd prefer Derek to take back the status of Alpha. There will be no hard feelings, I'm sure we can find two Alphas to kill, though it may take-"

"Absolutely not," Derek looked at him appalled. "I don't want to be Alpha."

"You grew into it, you became a good Alpha, Derek," Peter spoke kindly, resting a comforting hand on Derek's shoulder. "And you were devastated when it was taken from you."

"I was devastated because our pack was taken from us, again. And because the Hale line ended with me," Derek frowned. "I have been much happier in the past year under your leadership."

"Yeah," Malia frowned at her father. "We have an Alpha. You're the Alpha."

The smile slipped from Peter's lips, replaced by a startled look when his daughter stared pointedly at him. The rest of the betas also turned to look at Peter and the older wolf took a near self-conscious step back. The smallest smile tucked on Stiles' lips.

"For such a smart man, you can be quite dense sometimes, Peter."

"Says the boy who was surprised that we followed him out of that mess of a pack-meeting," Isaac snorted and rolled his eyes at Stiles. "You two are quite the pair."

Stiles didn't know why but he felt his cheeks heat up at those words, his heart speeding up just a little. Before it became obvious, or before he could dwell on it, did Stiles latch onto something else. He leaned forward, eyes wide and sharp.

"Hold on, you've been trying to track a rogue Alpha? Alone? Are you stupid?"

"I second his question," Lydia redirected her look of disappointment to Peter. "Don't do dangerous things like those without consulting your pack."

"Okay," Kira perked up interested. "How do we track down a rogue Alpha?"

Even while the pack fell into a heated debate on how best to do that, Stiles kept an eye on Peter, feeling pleased at the wondrous look on the wolf's face. About damn time Peter realized that their pack loved him. How could they not? He was snarky, sarcastic, brilliant, listened to them, cared for them, took care of them, had opened his home to them all. How could anyone not love Peter?

Stiles' heart stumbled as a realization slammed into him. He loved Peter. He was in love with Peter.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Return of the Hale Pack

Stiles was quite frankly impressed with his ability to keep his shit together and not have a full on freak out melt down at the penthouse when the realization hit him. The pack managed to distract him, thankfully enough. When he got back to the house, he found a note from his dad about being at a crime scene with Jordan. Which would at least give Stiles enough privacy for his phone call.

"What's up, Stilinski? It's like midnight at yours."

Stiles collapsed backward onto his bed, his phone between his head and shoulder. "Jacks, I need your help. I have something that I need to talk to someone about but everyone here is, well, here."

"Okay," Jackson sounded cautious but calm. "What's going on, Stiles?"

"Okay, wait, update on what's actually more importantly going on first: I quit Scott's pack and I think so did everyone else? Uh. Not everyone-everyone but every other member of the former Hale Pack, as well as Lydia, Kira and Malia," Stiles blinked owlishly. "And we're gonna work on figuring out how to make Peter an Alpha."

There was a stretch of silence. "The fact that this kind of big news is your 'oh by the way' to get out first makes me a little worried about what you actually want to talk about. But good for you. None of you were happy with McCall as your Alpha. Hell, I think I would have gone on the hunt for a rogue Alpha myself if I had to live in a pack where he was my Alpha."

Stiles snorted a little but knew that he was right. Those two had always clashed, they couldn't even be co-captains of a sports-team, if Jackson had to submit to Scott as his Alpha? Fat chance in hell.

"I'm in love with Peter," Stiles blurted out after another moment.

"Oh, fucking finally," Jackson heaved a relieved sigh.

"Wait, what," Stiles sat up on his bed abruptly, staring out the window in bewilderment. "Okay, hold on, if you're pulling the romcom bullshit of 'everyone around them already knew they were in love before they noticed themselves' but with a layer of 'I could smell it on you', I am going to die right now because that'd mean everyone could smell it on me and-"

"How would we smell it on you, dork," Stiles could practically hear the eye-roll in Jackson's voice. "Sure, we can smell arousal and detect attraction that way, but, as I learned pretty quickly as a wolf, attraction isn't the same as romantic intention. You're such an equal opportunity bisexual, you smell like attraction around pretty much everyone in the pack and unless you're gonna invite me into your newly formed harem, because yes, Stilinski, I could smell your attraction to me too, then that's really no indication for your romantic feelings. Hell, sexual attraction doesn't even mean you have to want to act on it. Sometimes, you just think someone is hot and they get you going but that doesn't mean you want to actually have sex with them."

Stiles blinked doe-eyed and then allowed himself to collapse back onto his back. Jackson was right. Just because he found someone hot and got aroused around them didn't even necessarily mean he wanted to sleep with them. And Stiles was surrounded by supermodel-levels of hot people at pretty much all times. He relaxed in relief though, because if there was a way the werewolves would have been able to tell his feelings even before him, he would absolutely die from the humiliation of it all.

Stiles frowned. "If that's not it, then why did you say 'finally' like you were waiting for this?"

Jackson snorted amused. "This may be a recent development for you, but I'm fairly sure Peter's been in love with you since before I met the guy. And he is far less subtle about it than you. I swear, when you guys did research, I always half expected to find pink glitter hearts on his notes and scribbles of 'Mister Peter Stilinski' in them. So the 'finally' is on his account. The pining was getting sad, we're nearly two years into it now."

"Fuck off," Stiles huffed with a laugh.

Silence, then Jackson heaved a breath. "You… seriously don't believe me? Stilinski, you're the first one who was allowed into his den. His den that he guards like his life depends on it, because it kind of does since his last den was burned down with his entire pack in it. And every single one of us was only allowed in there because you dragged us there. You spent most pack meetings practically sitting on his lap and he allowed it, even when he still snarled at the others and me whenever we got too close to him. He… He fucking adores you, it's so painfully obvious."

"It… It's not," Stiles tried to argue weakly.

"He calls you 'darling' and 'sweetheart'. All. The. Time," Jackson sounded exasperated with him. "He could only be more obvious about it if we wore an 'I Heart Stiles' shirt, but your level of denial makes me think you'd just dismiss that as him losing a bet or something. You're an actual idiot."

Stiles' breath hitched a little as he ran through practically every interaction he ever had with Peter in his head. And he fully meant every. Starting in the hospital, when Peter had recognized him on sight somehow but hadn't attacked him, just stared at him with interest and only launching into action when Derek had entered the scene. The frankly weird interaction on the lacrosse field, when Peter had coaxed Stiles up from Lydia's side on the ground by curling his fingers under his chin and guiding him up. He could have hauled Stiles, dragged him, growled and threatened him to get up on his own. The damn parking garage and the way Peter had held Stiles' wrist to his mouth but had dropped it when Stiles had said no, had not harmed a hair on Stiles' head even when feral.

The way Peter had just… tagged along with Stiles to track down Erica and Boyd when he'd been freshly resurrected, with some bullshit excuse that Stiles was interesting and he wanted to see what Stiles would do next. It started to dawn on Stiles that maybe that hadn't just been an excuse or Peter making fun of him, because after that, Peter was pretty much glued to his side. Pack meetings. Research sessions. Allowing the physical contact. Allowing him into Peter's den. Allowing the pups into Peter's den just because Stiles brought them over.

Trusting Stiles. Just so fundamentally, deeply and undoubtedly trusting Stiles, in all of that.

"Peter…" Stiles whispered, breath hitching. "Peter's in love with me…"

Jackson hummed in agreement, sounding a little amused. "We really gotta work on your self-confidence if you can't catch on with a guy being so blatantly in love with you. I was sure you knew and were just politely ignoring it, at least until you're eighteen."

"I'm eighteen," Stiles blurted out, for absolutely no reason.

"And good for you. Or rather him, I guess," Jackson snorted. "Drastically reduces his chances of getting shot by the sheriff."

Stiles' eyes widened at that. Oh no his dad was going to hate this. Sure, he was eighteen, but if he tried to tell his dad 'I would like to date this forty year old man, who is a confirmed murderer'? That conversation wasn't going to go over well at all, was it?

/break\

There was bacon on Noah's breakfast plate. Ten stripes. He was given real, actual bacon, by his son. His eyes wandered to his son suspiciously, though he wasn't fool enough to question it and risk losing the rare treat. There were also chocolate chip pancakes. This was a clear attempt at bribery for something… and it was working.

"Dad, can we maybe talk after breakfast?" Stiles asked softly.

Noah chewed on his bacon and cut up his pancakes. "I'll be out late and I know you got a pack meeting tonight so we won't see each other until… late. We can talk now, kiddo."

"I'm eighteen."

Slowly, Noah put down his cutlery and looked up at his son. Well, that was an interesting way to open a conversation. He had a feeling this would require his full attention. And maybe a gun.

"I'm aware, ki… Stiles," Noah tried to show that he was taking Stiles seriously. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Stiles shook his head vehemently. "Nothing is wrong, or bad, I just… I… There is someone I like, very much, and I just need to make sure you remember that I am a legal adult."

The intensity in his gaze startled Noah, firm determination and a hint of worry. He frowned at his son and reached out to take Stiles' hand on the table.

"I'm glad you're finally ready to tell me about you and Peter."

Stiles actually jumped at that, eyes widening. "W… What? Tell you? About what? You know? What do you know? What?"

Sighing, Noah gave Stiles' hand another squeeze. "I'll admit, I wasn't a fan at first. I may have considered shooting him with the wolfsbane bullets Argent left me. I'm not proud of that and I understand why you waited so long to tell me. But I need you to understand that you're my only kid, you're the only family I got left, Stiles, and I don't want anyone to take advantage of you."

Stiles opened his mouth like he wanted to protest, so Noah raised one hand to silence him. "And he doesn't. I know that now. But you have to see what it looked like, right? He's twenty years older than you, kiddo. It's the obvious conclusion, that a man his age could only want one thing from a boy your age, so of course I'd worry, you get that, right?"

Stiles nodded, eyes still wide but no words leaving his mouth, for a change. "By now, I know that's not it. A man with his looks, if all he wanted was sex, he'd just have to go the Jungle and would come out with young men flocking him. What he's been doing for you in these past months, the way he took care of you, it was an act of selfless love. Nobody would put up with that just to get laid. He deeply loves you and he's proven it to me in the past months since the possession, over and over again. Sure, I'd prefer if you were with a nice boy or girl your own age, but all I could have ever hoped for you was to find someone who loves you as selflessly and with as much devotion as Peter does. He's a good man. A right bastard, but a good man."

Many more moments went by with Stiles staring at him in stunned silence and Noah used them to finish his breakfast before his bacon was getting cold. So he got bribed with pancakes and bacon to soften the blow of Stiles finally telling him about his relationship with Peter?

Sometimes, Noah felt insulted by the way Stiles underestimated his investigative abilities. He was the sheriff, for god's sake. Did Stiles really think that Noah wouldn't question the fact that this man spent every single day at the house, cleaning and feeding them, keeping Noah sober because his drunkenness would hurt Stiles? Did Stiles really think that Noah couldn't see the raw devotion on Peter's face and, worse yet, the heartbroken despair whenever Stiles had been unresponsive?

Yes, when Noah had first noticed, he had been ready to shoot this man twice Stiles' age for seducing Noah's then-minor son. But every day, Peter kept coming back. Kept cooking for them, cleaning for them, talking to Stiles, talking to Noah to make the man feel less alone in his grief and despair and helplessness. Peter never gave up on Stiles and he never grew impatient with Stiles, he was always gentle and kind, even when there was no reward whatsoever. Not just the sexual kind that Noah would have expected to be the only reason a man like him would want a boy like Stiles, but truly just no reward at all – no words, no thanks, not even a gaze into Peter's direction.

It had happened one evening, about two and a half weeks into Peter's determined caretaking of the Stilinski men, that Noah had gotten home quietly and found Peter giving Stiles a sponge bath, softly speaking soothing words to Stiles and praising the boy for lifting his arms when requested. There was no lust in the man's eyes, only warmth, despair and love.

It had reminded him too much of himself and Claudia, when she was getting worse, when she couldn't take care of herself and didn't even recognize Noah anymore. He still loved her as much, was still as devoted to her and never once thought about giving up on her. He never would have stopped caring for the love of his life. And he could see that exact same determination on Peter's face that day. That was the day that Noah accepted Peter.

"So you… wouldn't mind if Peter and I were together?" Stiles asked in a painfully small voice.

"No, kiddo, I don't mind that you're together," Noah sighed. "I've had months to settle with that fact. Now, if you had told me about it before the possession, I would have shot him point-blank, let's make that clear. But I… I have seen how much he loves you. He's already proven the 'in sickness and health' part, he has my blessing. Though I think he's a bit of a coward for not being here when you tell me about the two of you."

Noah snorted amused, imagining Peter pacing in the apartment, waiting to hear back from Stiles how well the sheriff took the news. He did expect the wolf to drop by afterward with his own piece to say though. Mh, maybe he could break out the cigars he'd gotten from McCall for this, back when Rafael had attempted to get into Noah's good graces. He may have kicked the man out, but he'd kept the cigars. This seemed like a worthy occasion for that. It was still strange to wrap his head around it, that Peter Hale had somehow become a dear friend to Noah and that the man was dating his son, but Noah did mean it, he truly couldn't ask for more for Stiles.

"Dad," Stiles grimaced. "Peter and I aren't together. We're not dating."

Slowly, Noah looked up at Stiles. "…What."

"It has been brought to my attention like yesterday that Peter might be in love with me," Stiles motioned around, looking a little frantic. "Hell, I only realized that I might be in love with him like two days ago! We are not dating."

Noah leaned back in his chair, staring at Stiles. So his son hadn't underestimated Noah's investigative abilities, he had just fully failed to put the obvious clues together himself. The thought made Noah bark out a laugh that startled Stiles.

"Kiddo, you're the quickest mind I know and you somehow didn't figure this out on your own?"

An indignant glare was aimed at him. "It's not exactly like I'm Beacon Hills' most desired bachelor! And Peter's always been low-key flirty, I figured that's just how he is. I didn't realize that he's only like that with me. Oh, stop laughing!"

Stiles threw a blueberry at Noah, which only made the sheriff laugh more. This was definitely a story Noah couldn't wait to tell his grandchildren. The thought made him pause in wonder. He had grown so used to the idea that Stiles and Peter were a couple and were deeply in love, he'd accepted that Peter would be a part of their future. The kind of devotion between them was not casual, wasn't a fling. Noah hadn't exactly planned their wedding in his head, but he had prepared himself for Stiles to tell him he'd be moving in with Peter after graduation and somehow, Noah did picture a 'down the road'. His eyebrows drew together.

"So the bastard actually had the decency to wait until you're off-age, mh. Means I can't even blackmail or guilt-trip him about having been in a secret relationship with my underage son," Noah frowned. "Do… Do you even want to be with him? You asked me if I'd be okay with it and you said you 'may be' in love with him, but… Okay, kiddo, tell me where you stand in this, exactly."

"I'm in love with him," Stiles' face was dark red and he looked so embarrassed. "I am most definitely in love with him. He… He makes me feel understood in a way nobody else ever has. He always got my back, I never have to worry when he's around because I know he'll back me up. He… He took care of me and even though I may not have appreciated it at the time, I can't even put into words how much it means to me now. And I took care of him and I'm ready to do it again when he needs me. We're there for each other and I… can't imagine my life without him anymore."

Okay, so the hypothetical grandchildren were back on the table. Noah nodded pleased. The look on his face softened when he saw the love shining in Stiles' eyes.

"If it helps ease your mind any, I can't imagine our life without him either," Noah admitted. "He forced his way into this family and far as I'm concerned, he's not getting out of it again."

"Mister Peter Stilinski," Stiles muttered beneath his breath with an amused smile.

"Sounds good to me," Noah nodded in amusement, causing Stiles to blush furiously. "So, what do you plan to do to get your wolf then?"

A thoughtful look crossed Stiles' face before a sharp, mischievous grin spread his lips. "You have this weekend off, right? Do you think you would help me?"

/break\

Peter inhaled deeply when he entered his apartment. His mouth watered and his fangs dropped just a little at the scent of game roasting in the kitchen. Meat always appealed to the wolf, but game woke an even more primal side. Whatever had he done to deserve such a treat?

"Hello, pups," Peter greeted the betas in the living room, scent-marking each that he passed.

Isaac, Erica, Malia and Kira greeted him back with smiles, all bent over school work. Graduation was just around the corner. He could hear Lydia in his office, most likely plundering his law books again. In the kitchen, Peter found Derek making salads and the sheriff setting the table, while Boyd and Stiles were manning the stoves. Tonight was not their usual pack night, since it was Sunday and they always had their pack nights on Fridays. But Stiles had made plans with his dad for the weekend, leaving Friday afternoon and only getting back today around noon. It made Peter happy to see the Stilinski men bond and spend time with each other. The pack had decided to just move pack night this week, so the two wouldn't miss it.

"That smells absolutely delicious, darling," Peter purred, resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"Is he talking about the food or Stiles?" Erica whispered next door, the rest of the betas snickering.

Peter opted to ignore them. "But I do hope you used my credit card if you bought venison."

He hated when any of the betas or Stiles spent their own money on the food the pack consumed together, so he'd handed Stiles a credit card for any pack-related purchases months ago (also including their regular shopping trips. Peter liked to be able to provide for his pack, see them dressed in clothes he had bought for them). On occasion, Stiles was known to ignore it and buy things himself. Boyd liked to refer to it as their care-taking standoff. He wasn't wrong. It was part of why Pack Moms were traditionally the Alpha Mates, because then any such taking care of the pack would come from the Alpha and Alpha Mate's shared account and money. Instead, both Peter and Stiles were following their instincts to provide and take care separately.

"Nope," Stiles leaned slightly back against Peter's chest and tilted his head just enough to allow Peter to nose his neck and scent-mark him. "Caught it myself."

The wolf paused, lifting his face just a little. "You… caught it yourself?"

"He caught it, skinned it and took it apart himself," Noah added dryly. "It was a mighty buck too."

"The rest is in the freezer," Stiles tagged on. "Now go and get changed, dinner is nearly ready."

With a last look at the Stilinskis did Peter head into his bedroom. So that was their weekend bonding activity. Father and son had gone hunting together. Arousal warmed him as Peter remembered how good Stiles had looked with a gun in his hand, how confident. Licking his lips, Peter quickly got changed and washed up before returning back to the kitchen. Half the pack was already seated, while the other half helped Boyd and Stiles carry over the food. When Peter took his seat, he noted the sour expression on his daughter's face.

"Why do you look so angry, Malia? Venison is your favorite, isn't it?"

"Exactly," Malia ground out, glaring at Stiles.

"You… don't like the way Stiles prepares it?" Peter guessed.

Stiles approached him and put down a plate with a juicy rack of venison, sweet potato mash and green beans in front of Peter. The wolf's mouth watered again. It truly smelt delicious. Boyd followed close behind Stiles and put down a large casserole.

"She's mad that she's not getting venison," Erica rolled her eyes. "And I am taking offense on my mate's behalf. That green bean casserole is a banger."

With a confused frown did Peter look at the betas' plates. Everyone took from the Mac 'n Cheese and the casserole, but nobody, not even the sheriff, had venison. His eyes settled on his own plate.

"The venison isn't for the betas," Stiles stated simply and sat down next to him. "It's for you."

Even Stiles was getting the casserole and Mac 'n Cheese. Peter stared from his plate to his mate and back. His inner wolf was going wild with excitement. Courting! Our mate is courting us! Providing us with food! Hunted the food himself! Strong hunter, good caretaker, perfect mate! Peter squashed any such thoughts before that feeling of hope could grow in his chest. Whatever was going on here, surely there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for it. Stiles had said it wasn't for the betas, so perhaps this was a sign of appreciation for him as the future Alpha of their pack.

"Uncle Peter," Derek spoke up, making eye-contact with him. "Stop overthinking."

"I'm not," Peter cleared his throat. "I'm not overthinking anything, nephew."

"Peter, even I can see you overthinking it from over here," Noah commented dryly next to Derek.

Frowning, Peter looked away from the other two men and instead stared at his venison again. He started cutting it tentatively, as though he was afraid it may disappear or be taken from him. When he looked up at Stiles, he found the boy already looking at him.

"You're a born wolf, do I actually have to spell this out for you? I went with like the most traditional werewolfly option to make it as obvious as I possibly could," Stiles blinked. "Yes, this is a courting gift. I am courting you. You're going to be mine."

Peter swallowed and gripped his fork tightly, entirely disarmed by the fierce determination on Stiles' face. "Darling, I am already yours."

The most beautiful blush spread over Stiles' cheeks and down his neck. The peanut gallery chuckled and continued eating. Peter wanted to eat, the food smelt divine, but he could not tear his eyes off of Stiles. Blushing, pleased Stiles, who was courting him.

"Eat the venison that Stiles caught and cooked for you, Peter," Erica sighed. "You can gaze adoringly at your mate later."

"Yeah, you're forgetting the five minute rule and Malia is on the prowl," Isaac agreed amused.

The Hale five minute rule was a simple one: If someone ignored their plate of food for five minutes, it was fair game and up for grabs. Peter and his younger brother Aaron had teamed up on Talia on many occasions, one distracting her so the other could steal her plate. It often ended in a food fight that their dad had to break up while their mom laughed at them and egged them on.

"Pardon me," Peter cleared his throat and returned his attention to the food. "I'm just…"

He couldn't help it, his eyes went back to Stiles as though he could not believe that the boy was real. Stiles tilted his head with the smallest smile, still blushing and looking utterly pleased.

"Eat," Stiles ordered, gently nudging Peter's leg with his own. "We'll talk after dinner. Out of earshot from any nosy pups or dads."

For a moment, Peter smiled and actually got a forkful of venison in his mouth, before Stiles' words caught up with him. He choked on the food as his eyes widened and made direct contact with Noah sitting across from him at the table. Stiles' father. Who owned a gun. And wolfsbane bullets.

"If you die because you choked on my first courting gift for you, I will resurrect you myself so I can punch you," Stiles warned annoyed while clapping him on the back.

Once Peter was calmed down again, he continued staring at the sheriff. Waiting for some kind of reaction from the man. Noah cocked one eyebrow at him and continued eating his Mac 'n Cheese.

"If you like, we can have a conversation after your conversation with my son, Peter," Noah offered after another moment. "But for the love of god, eat the damn venison now. I did not spend my weekend cold in the woods to hunt with my son so you can let the food go cold now."

Ducking his head like a chastised child, Peter concentrated on his food. It was delicious. Easily the best thing he had eaten in his entire life and sure, part of that may be emotions. The rest were just Stiles' cooking skills. He kept making appreciative and pleased noises, a deep rumble in his chest.

"He purrs like an oversized cat. And here I thought you people were werewolves," Noah snorted.

"Don't make fun of him," Stiles whined. "That means he likes it!"

"Also, we don't purr. We're not house cats," Derek complained.

"I don't know, it does sound like purring to me. I like making Malia purr," Kira smiled, before her eyes widened at the innuendo. "Uh, I didn't mean-"

"I miss Jackson whenever you people get horny," Lydia heaved a deep sigh. "Two more months."

The table sobered up a little at the reminder that Lydia was going to book it out of Beacon Hills to London right after high school, having been accepted into Cambridge to set her path to becoming a lawyer, just an hour outside of London, which meant she would get to actually see her long-distance boyfriend all the time again. They were all happy for her, of course, but the thought of her leaving still hurt.

"There are about forty colleges and universities within London, you know," Stiles noted casually. "And both Cambridge and Oxford are really, really close to the city too."

"Oxford?" Isaac scrunched up his face, looking at Stiles curiously. "I know Lydia is going to Cambridge, but why are you bringing up Oxford?"

"Because I got accepted into Oxford," Stiles shrugged and then ducked his head a little, looking nearly shy. "I'm going to become a librarian."

Peter swallowed hard and turned to look at his mate. Was Stiles really courting him, just to leave the country…? Sorrow and a near sense of despair overcame the wolf at the thought. Lydia had become a dear friend to Peter and he would miss her, but to have Stiles leave…?

"Stop looking at me like that, Peter," Stiles sighed. "As I just said, over forty colleges and universities within London. I know not everyone has the grades to get into Cambridge or Oxford, but surely we'd be able to find suitable universities for everyone."

"Everyone," Erica scrunched up her face in confusion.

"There are also some excellent culinary schools in London too, for Boyd," Stiles added. "And if you don't want to go to college, you don't have to. I'm just saying that there are options there."

"Why are you talking like we're moving to London," Malia asked confused.

"Because I'm suggesting that we move to London," Stiles rolled his eyes. "I can't be the first one to have that thought, right? I kind of assumed we'd all been considering it. Jackson already lives there and Lydia is going to live there soon and we will have to leave Beacon Hills eventually, once Peter becomes an Alpha, because the relationship between Scott and Peter is… let's just say not amicable enough to allow both of them to be Alpha in the same small town and I'd really love to avoid a pack war. So why not go to the city where two of our pack members are already going to live anyway."

Peter lowered his fork and turned to look at his mate in wonder. "You… truly are a marvel, darling."

A cheeky grin spread over Stiles' lips and he bumped their knees together. "I won't let our pack be torn apart. You should know that by now."

"London," Kira blinked wide-eyed. "I've never been to London."

"I've never been outside of Beacon Hills," Erica snorted. "But is sounds good. And I miss Jacks."

"I think that everyone should carefully consider this for themselves," Peter offered gently, looking at the betas. "And look into nearby schools, if there are any that suit your needs. But even if you want to study in the states, or in any other part of the world, you will still be a part of this pack."

"So… You're okay with this?" Derek asked, brows furrowed.

Without thinking about it, Peter reached out to take Stiles' hand, holding it like an anchor. "I think that Stiles is right. We'll have to leave. I've been thinking about it for months now and considered multiple options. Former allies of the Hale Pack under my father, friends of the family who would allow us temporary residency until we'd be able to establish our own territory. I've reached out to get a feel and wanted to discuss our options after I claimed my status as Alpha again."

He gave the pack a moment to take that information in before he continued. "If Jackson, Lydia and Stiles are all going to live in London… Yes, I would prefer for us to build our pack and establish our territory there, together. Alpha Hayes, the Alpha Jackson is staying with right now, was a dear friend of my sister's and if I reached out to him about the matter, he would surely be welcoming. The London territory is already split between six packs, they are used to sharing and adjusting so we may be able to easily carve out our own spot in a city that large."

"But you're okay with leaving Beacon Hills?" Boyd asked. "It's been Hale territory for centuries."

Peter blinked curiously. "Yes, that's true. And before the Hales moved to the states, they lived in England. That's where our name comes from, the town of Hale, near Manchester. There are still Hales living there today, just as there are other branches of the Hale family living in Seattle and Toronto. Wolf packs spread, pups grow up and leave to build their own packs and claim their own territory. Just because our direct bloodline has lived in Beacon Hills for centuries doesn't mean we have to live here forever. This town has taken so much from us, not just us Hales but every member of this pack, and I think it might be time for a fresh start."

Stiles squeezed his hand in a gentle but firm manner, giving him not just support but conveying that he agreed with him. Peter couldn't help but lift Stiles' hand up to his mouth to gently kiss his knuckles, smiling at his now blushing mate.

"Oh, I'll have to learn all the British swear words," Erica grinned excitedly.

Everyone started laughing and things relaxed again with that. They finished dinner peacefully and before Stiles or Peter had a chance to get up and help clean the table, the betas grabbed their plates.

"You two have a conversation to get to, I believe," Noah told them with his eyebrows raised, then looked at Stiles. "And don't fuck this up, kiddo."

"I swear you love Peter more than me by now," Stiles rolled his eyes at his dad.

"He isn't as mean and demanding about the healthy diet," Noah countered. "Sometimes, he even lets me have bacon. I could do much, much worse on the son-in-law front."

"You let my dad have bacon," Stiles narrowed his eyes at Peter.

"Three slices! On Sundays! And only if he behaved himself at work and didn't sneak any doughnuts or otherwise unhealthy food during the week," Peter defended himself.

"You let me have ten slices of bacon on Wednesday yourself, Stiles," Noah argued with a smirk. "Feels like you don't get to be offended by him feeding me if he's worth ten slices of bacon to you."

"Wait, why am I 'worth' ten slices of bacon?" Peter blinked confused from one Stilinski to the next.

But the sheriff was already busying himself with the dishwasher, ignoring him. Stiles blushed and ducked his head before grabbing Peter's wrist to pull him along until they reached Peter's bedroom. There was a certain thrill to Stiles shoving him into his own bedroom.

"Your father took that far better than I would have anticipated," Peter chose as an opening statement. "Did you spend the weekend buttering him up to the idea of… us?"

To his surprise did Stiles snort and shake his head. "My father, as it turns out, was quite disappointed to learn that you and I aren't already dating. He has spent the past few months thinking we already were together but hadn't brought it up with him yet."

Peter blinked slowly. "What."

"Yeah, my reaction exactly," Stiles laughed, a crooked grin on his face as he looked at the wolf. "Apparently, it was plain to see for him just how deeply you love me when you took care of me after the Nogitsune. He's had months of going through all stages it took to land on 'acceptance'."

"Ah," Peter turned away a little, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Stiles stepped up to him and gently cupped his face, making the wolf look back at him. Amber eyes were filled with gentle fondness that made Peter's breath catch in his throat. A smile laid on those bow-shaped lips and then a tongue darted out to wet them and Peter's mind just blanked.

"This is all very new to me," Stiles' voice was soft. "I mean, literally this week new. I didn't… I didn't know you were in love with me. I did wonder why you kept coming back, at the beginning after the possession when I really did give you… more than just a cold shoulder, I didn't get why you didn't just give up. But I guess now I do, huh?"

"I will never give up on you, darling," Peter spoke fiercely and wrapped his arms around Stiles' waist to draw him closer. "How… did you realize, then? If you hadn't caught on until this week."

Which was baffling. His boy was oh so clever and Peter had truly not been subtle in his flirting or his adoration. So far, he had assumed Stiles politely ignored him and that Peter would have to just stay patient and work hard to earn Stiles' love.

"Jackson told me," Stiles' whole face bloomed red. "When I called him because I was freaking out because I'd just realized that I was in love with you and he just went 'finally' and then told me that apparently the whole pack could tell how in love you were with me and-"

"You… realized you're in love with me."

Peter couldn't even describe what his heart was doing at that. His grip on Stiles' waist tightened marginally, drawing Stiles just a little closer still. Unwilling to let his boy go.

"Yeah," Stiles ducked his head. "I… don't know when it happened, I don't think there was any special moment that made me fall in love with you, I think it just… slowly built up with everything you did for and with me over the past year, until I just… ended up here. In love with you."

"Oh," Peter swallowed hard and nodded. "Can I kiss you, darling?"

"I mean I just told you that I'm in love with you and I did just declare, in front of our whole pack, that I'm courting you," Stiles raised one eyebrow at him in fond amusement. "Yeah, you can kiss me. I'd really like for you to kiss me. C'mere, wolf."

He grabbed Peter by the collar of his shirt and pulled him down into a kiss that was nothing more than a tentative and gentle touch of lips. Stiles pushed off for just a moment, licking his lips and looking at him before diving right back in with more hunger and fierce determination. It was perhaps a little clumsy, but Stiles' enthusiasm more than made up for it.

"I love you, Peter," Stiles whispered breathlessly against Peter's lips when they parted again.

"And I love you, you have no idea how much," Peter smiled gently. "But I plan on showing you every day for the rest of my life."

"That sounds a lot like wedding vows, you know," Stiles quirked his lips.

"You're courting me. You're too clever not to know that werewolves mate for life."

"I do know. I'm just teasing you," Stiles pecked his lips. "I need you to know that I'm serious about this too, okay? I may be human and I may be young, but I also already died, got tortured, possessed and had my mind and body stolen. I've been through more than most adults and I know what I want. I know how fleeting human life can be. I lost a lot and I know in my core that I can not and will not lose you."

His hands clawed into Peter's shirt, while Peter nodded. "And you will not lose me, darling. Have I not proven to you before that I will come back to you? That not even death can keep me from you?"

"That is so creepy, Creeperwolf," Stiles sighed and rested his forehead against Peter's shoulder. "But if you don't on your own, then I'm a powerful enough Spark to bring you back myself."

"Also creepy. Does that make you my Creeperspark?" Peter teased, kissing Stiles' temple.

Stiles humpfed and hit Peter's chest lightly. "Shut up and go have a conversation with my dad."

Peter made a face and stole one more kiss from his mate before he left the kitchen. When he entered the living room, Lydia gave a jerky nod into the direction of the balcony. Taking a deep breath, Peter steeled himself. Just because Noah had assured Stiles he was fine with things didn't mean he actually was fine with it when talking to Peter. Straightening his posture, he headed out.

"You're quite the patient man, Peter," Noah commented as soon as he joined the sheriff.

"Your son is worth the wait," Peter admitted. "Your son is worth everything to me."

Noah chuckled amused and looked at him. "Oh, relax, Hale. You look like I'm going to kill you."

"He is your son and you do have wolfsbane bullets," Peter argued slowly.

"He's my son," Noah nodded, eyes soft and sad. "And I got real close to losing him. You were there for him, and for me. Peter, you're a good man. You might not be what the general populus would consider a good man, but to Stiles and to the people you consider yours, you're good."

Peter nodded, still feeling a little overwhelmed by this conversation. "You're really okay with it."

"I wasn't at first, it took me a while to get used to it. And yes, I'd still prefer if you were twenty years younger. But if that is the biggest issue I have? I'm fine," Noah chuckled dryly. "Stiles is eighteen. He's going to move to another country for college, if I can trust him to make such a huge decision, why should I not be able to trust him about his love life? Besides, he's… He had to grow up far too early and he's been through… so much already. He's suffered so much, he deserves to be happy and to feel safe. You… make him happy and you keep him safe. That's all I want for him."

"Thank you, Noah," Peter dared to smile just a little. "Your approval means a lot to me."

Grunting, Noah reached into his jacket pocket and got two cigars out. "Now, if you're done with the existential angst about me shooting you, let's celebrate your courting, mh?"

Blinking surprised, Peter stared from the sheriff to the cigars. "Wait, really?"

With a chuckle did Noah clap him on the back. "Yes, really. You're my friend, Peter. In the past months, I talked to you about things I never had anyone to talk to. I'm not just happy for Stiles for having found someone who loves him as devotedly as I loved his mom. I'm also happy for you. You suffered a lot in your life too, Peter, you lost a lot. You deserve love and happiness too."

Swallowing hard, Peter accepted the cigar and found himself relaxing and taking a deep breath.

/break\

With the whole pack working together, it took them two more weeks to effectively track down a feral Alpha a couple towns over, in large thanks to Danny who set up an algorithm that filtered news for certain words. Now they just had to fight their pack on staying at home.

"Absolutely not," Lydia crossed her arms over her chest, glaring them both down. "You are not going after a feral Alpha werewolf on your own. Peter is still a beta, in strength alone he is no match. If the pack works together, we can wear the Alpha down and weaken them."

Stiles and Peter exchanged a look, Stiles raising one eyebrow, Peter drawing one down, Stiles' mouth twitched, just for the corner of Peter's lip to raise a little. Malia grunted annoyed.

"Stop communicating without words, it's annoying," she complained. "We're coming too."

"No, you're not," Stiles crossed his arms, a stern glare on his face. "Peter and I don't have to worry about each other, but if we got all of you running around too, we'll be distracted. I know you want to help, but… this one is up to us. Besides, if all of us miss school, the McCall Pack will notice."

Peter was delighted that he was now allowed to kiss him until the boy was breathless whenever he had that look on his face. How beautiful his Alpha Mate was when taking charge of the betas.

"There is one matter we wanted to address before we left," Stiles said, pushing Peter off a little.

Raising both eyebrows, Peter turned from his mate toward the pack. "Stiles and I have talked about this and before we leave, we wanted to decide on the important roles within the pack first."

"What did you have in mind?" Derek asked, arms crossed.

"Will you accept becoming our Right Hand?" Peter asked, looking at his nephew.

Derek looked taken aback, staring from Peter to Stiles and back. "Are… Are you sure?"

"It's the role you were meant to have in the Hale Pack, the role you were actually raised for," Peter's voice was gentle. "The experience you gathered while you were Alpha yourself, I think it will also make you a better Right Hand. Yes, Derek, we're sure."

"I…" Derek nodded slowly, holding Peter's gaze. "I'd be honored, yes."

Peter released a breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The relationship between them had been strained for so long and while it had improved over the past two years, still a part of Peter had been afraid that him reclaiming the Alpha status would throw them back. He followed his instincts and drew his nephew into a hug, running his hand down Derek's back to scent-mark him.

Stiles cleared his throat. "There is one more role we talked about assigning. The Right Hand adviser role is pretty well-known, but there's also the position of Left Hand in a pack."

"What does that mean?" Kira tilted her head curiously. "I am still learning so much about wolves."

"The Left Hand of a pack is the enforcer," Derek offered slowly. "The person who gets their hands dirty to protect the pack. Uncle Peter was that for my mother."

"We do want to put emphasis on the fact that we're gonna do all the very dirty work – the murders – ourselves," Stiles pointed out, trying to sooth the betas. "Left Hands tend to be… a little othered in packs, because of that. And we… We think that the leaders should get their hands dirty themselves. But yes, the Left Hand is the enforcer of the pack."

The betas started looking at each other curiously, before Peter cleared his throat. "Lydia."

"Naturally," Lydia flipped her hair back, the smile on her face deadly.

"Okay, awesome," Stiles grinned broadly. "Well then, Peter and I are gonna leave, we don't know how long this will take, maybe a couple days. We'll keep you updated in the chat. Behave. Don't pick fights with the McCall Pack. Listen to Derek while we're gone."

Erica and Isaac exchanged a cheeky grin. "Yes, mom."

A blush lit up Stiles' face before he glared at them. "Very funny. Just watch it when I ground you."

They hugged Stiles, followed by every other beta. Peter offered a small smile as he joined them, making sure to scent-mark all his betas one last time before the Alpha Pair would leave. The betas still didn't look too pleased about being left behind, but they didn't try to argue again. He watched them leave the apartment, until only Peter and Stiles remained. For a moment, he pulled his mate against his side, burying his nose in the soft hair.

"There is one more role that I want to fill," Peter whispered. "Will you be my Emissary, Stiles?"

For a moment, Stiles tensed, and then he turned to look at Peter in surprise. "Wait, can I? I just figured, we're courting, I'll be the Alpha Mate. Can I really be Emissary too?"

"My mother was a druid. She was my father's Emissary. It's how they met, when she became her predecessor's apprentice. Even when he fell in love with her and started courting her, he still wanted her as his Emissary," Peter offered, wrapping his arms tightly around Stiles. "I… could not ask for a better Emissary, darling. You have studied pack structures and the supernatural for years now, your magic is… impressive, to say the least. You don't worry about the balance in a judgmental may, you accept me and my methods. The Right Hand ought to challenge the Alpha's thinking, but the Emissary is a representative and for that, they ought to align with the Alpha's point of view to believably convey it. You are my perfect mate, but you are also my perfect Emissary."

The smile that Stiles offered him was so warm and gentle, before he kissed Peter. "Yes, Peter."

Something in Peter relaxed, before his features sharpened again. "Well then, my beloved Emissary, let's go and kill ourselves an Alpha, mh?"

/break\

They drove six hours, in two three hour shifts. Peter took the first, Stiles the second, to let the future Alpha charge up and rest on the second half. Once they were in the right vicinity, the hunt really started. They had Stiles' magic and investigative abilities and Peter's nose, but at the end of the first day, when it was long dark, they still didn't have the Alpha tracked down. Deciding to regroup and recharge, the two checked into a motel at the outskirts of town.

Stiles stood frozen to the spot in the doorway of their shitty little motel room, eyes glued to the bed. The one, singular bed. His heart-rate picked up at the thought of sharing a bed with Peter. Sure, the two were very tactile and yeah that had been entirely on Stiles for forcing comfort onto the wolf, but snuggling up on the couch and actually sharing a bed were two very different pairs of shoes.

"Darling, you know I will not do anything you don't want, right?"

Stiles startled just a little when Peter suddenly pressed against him and whispered into his ear. Taking a deep breath, Stiles nodded. Of course he knew that, the evidence of that was all over their entire history. It still made him nervous though, to share a bed with his boyfriend.

"You can shower first, I'll text the pack and tell them to relax," Stiles offered.

He hopped onto the bed and sprawled out comfortably, sending a couple texts in the group chat and reading up on what the betas had been up to. A little bit of doom scrolling for a while and then the bathroom door opened. Stiles looked up on instinct and immediately regretted it. Peter had a towel around his waist and wore nothing else, water dripping from his still wet hair, running down that ridiculously thick neck and toned, yummy chest.

"You're staring, darling," Peter teased with a smirk.

"Oh, shut up," Stiles yelped and threw a pillow at Peter. "That's your fault for being a Creeperwolf who walks around practically naked! Get dressed, Peter!"

Peter laughed, a dark and rich sound. "As you wish, my little Creeperspark."

Stiles grumbled, face still dark red as he returned his attention to his phone to keep himself from leering at Peter. No need to prove the smug bastard right, after all. Once dressed, Peter joined him in bed, near immediately attaching himself to Stiles by wrapping his arms around Stiles' waist and pulling him as close as physically possible. A content sigh escaped Stiles.

"Lydia contests that if we had brought her along, we would have already found the Alpha."

Peter snorted at that, not replying otherwise. Instead, he nuzzled his face into the crook of Stiles' neck that was more than readily bared to him. The cute purring rumbled in Peter's chest while he thoroughly scent-marked Stiles. Grinning to himself, Stiles snuggled up to Peter.

"I can't wait for us to be done with all of this," Stiles whispered. "Just… everything. For you to be Alpha so our pack can be stable and safe. For graduation to pass so we can leave and start somewhere else. Become the pack we're meant to be."

"We already are that pack, sweetheart," Peter's voice was gentle. "Have been since you decided to make us your pack. Yes, things have changed, yes, we don't currently have an Alpha, but we are that pack you worked so hard to create, my love."

"Don't give me all the credit," Stiles huffed, both flustered and pleased.

"Darling…" Peter trailed off for a moment, running his hand down Stiles' back. "There is something you should know. Your role in the pack. You have claimed a very important role for yourself, back when Derek was still Alpha. You were Pack Mom."

"Pack Mom," Stiles offered him a dry look. "Did Erica put you up to that?"

Shaking his head, Peter smiled amused. "In the most classic, traditional pack, this is a role filled by the Alpha Mate. The Alpha is the physical protector and leader of the pack, the Alpha Mate is the emotional protector and leader. In less traditional packs, packs without an Alpha Mate usually or packs where the Alpha Mate isn't a natural caretaker, this role can split off from Alpha Mate. Pack Mom is what the pups of a pack usually refer to them as and it just… stuck, when the roles split."

"Pack Mom," Stiles repeated slowly. "Alpha Mate."

"Mhmh," Peter nuzzled him gently, kissing up Stiles' neck. "You rallied the pack together when it was falling apart and you kept it together even when we should have been absorbed into the McCall Pack. Instead, we stayed… us. Even under an Alpha who didn't lead us."

"So you're serious, about that being on me, huh," Stiles swallowed hard.

"You are magnificent, my dear," Peter smiled. "And I'll be honored to lead our pack at your side."

Sighing, Stiles leaned against his boyfriend's chest and closed his eyes. He listened to Peter's steady heartbeat and let that lull him into sleep. More peaceful than he had expected for the day before they'd catch and kill a rogue Alpha, but there was no safer place than in Peter's arms and it allowed him a better night than he had since before the possession.

/break\

Waking up with his mate in his arms was the best thing Peter could imagine and he already felt regret at the fact that he'd have to return Stiles to the Stilinski home after this shared mission. Soon, though. When they'd get to build their pack in London, Peter was going to keep his clever boy.

"Ready for a murder?" Peter asked, smile and claws equally sharp.

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed their stuff. Just for Peter to snatch it away from his mate. He wasn't going to let his human carry the heavy bags. Another eye-roll was aimed his way. They got into Peter's car and drove to the tree-line, where they parked their car. Stiles rummaged through his bag for what he'd need – his gun and a bag of mountain ash. Laying an arm around Stiles' waist, Peter steered him into the woods. A thought crossed his mind, making him chuckle.

"A peculiar third date, isn't it?" Peter wondered.

"I need you to run the count by me," Stiles requested with a frown.

"Our first date was your first courting gift. Even if our pack was with us, I can't not count that as our first date, since you hunted and prepared the food for me," Peter argued. "Second date was when I took you out for dinner and we planned out our pack hierarchy last week."

"Mh," Stiles tilted his head. "Okay. Fair count, I guess. But hey, murder is definitely unique for a date and on brand for us, isn't it? The couple that kills together stays together?"

Stiles grinned wickedly at him and Peter didn't resist the urge to kiss him heatedly. Rustling in the distance interrupted their kiss and Peter hated to leave his mate breathless and needy, but there was a feral Alpha demanding his attention. Peter's eyes flashed blue and his posture straightened, making Stiles sober up some too. The Spark gripped his gun tightly. And Peter? Peter gripped his boy tightly, pulling him in by the wrist until their lips met in a slow, deep kiss.

"You know the plan," Peter whispered against Stiles' lips. "Don't stray from it."

Don't put yourself into unnecessary danger, was left unsaid. Was pointless to say. Peter knew his mate, after all. Stiles had yet to meet a danger he didn't throw himself at head first. With a sigh did Peter press one more kiss to Stiles' lips before letting go of him. And then they ran. Peter soon left Stiles behind, following his instincts through the woods, toward the Alpha and then he had the monster – had he been this monstrous too, this warped version of a werewolf, when he had been feral? Peter snarled, claws and fangs at the ready, lunging at the Alpha. He chased the creature toward the clearing, closer to Stiles to meet him half-way.

"Peter!" Stiles yelled, frantic and worried, as soon as he came into view.

Peter had already taken considerable hits, three large gashes along his side, bleeding profoundly. Still, he had to concentrate on the Alpha, sinking his claws into the beast just as Stiles threw the mountain ash. He threw it up into the air, his eyes lit up with his magic, a blazing turquoise color, and the mountain ash landed in a thick line in a perfect circle around the whole clearing. Locking both Peter and the Alpha in, so the monster couldn't get away from Peter.

"Get out of the way," Stiles snarled. "I swear to fuck, get out of my way, Hale."

Peter snarled right back, more wolf than man right now, too high on the adrenaline and blood lust. He tried to reign it in, tried to obey his mate. The blood loss was getting to him, his injuries were multiplying. If he kept fighting the Alpha on his own, Peter may not make it. He lunged at the Alpha and then, in the last moment, ducked down and rolled to the side. The gun-shot echoed through the forest, birds flying off into all directions. A second and third gun-shot followed.

"Peter, tell me you're conscious," Stiles called out, sounding desperate. "Tell me you're alive!"

"I'm fine, sweetheart," Peter's voice slurred around the fangs and the pain.

"Good," Stiles took a shuttering breath. "Then finish the job."

Peter steeled himself for another moment before he forced his body up and walked over to the Alpha. Three gun-shot wounds, one in the shoulder, one in the thigh and one in the gut. Enough to bring the beast down, poisoning it with a mixture of wolfsbane and rowan wood shards. A special ammunition that Stiles had concocted himself, the cruel little thing. Peter grinned, vicious and final, before he sank his claws into the dying werewolf's throat to tear it out.

He staggered backward when the Alpha power overcame him. An unparalleled high, and this time, with his mind intact, Peter got to truly relish in the sensation. He could feel himself become stronger, his senses sharpening, his injuries already began to heal too. And, beyond all of that, he could feel his pack-bonds strengthening, fully cementing.

The first bond was the one he'd had the longest, his bond with Stiles. A beautiful, bright teal, interwoven with the silver strands of a mate-bond, solid and strong. He could feel the relief and excitement, but also the exhaustion, coming from his mate through it.

His oldest bond, the one that had broken years ago and slowly mended over the past year, finally healed. A gentle apple-red bond tying him to his nephew. His bonds to Boyd and Erica strengthened themselves next, Boyd's a brilliant night-dark blue and Erica's a bright yellow like the burning sun, both sending him pride and excitement. Isaac's a fresh green, buzzing with excitement. Malia's bond was a warm, bright blue, feeling somewhat pleased. His bond to Kira was near electric and orange like the kitsune's aura, mild worry coming through. Lydia's was a gentle pink and seemed to convey a sense of 'about time' somehow, which made Peter scoff amused.

There were two more bonds though, one a warm brown, feeling startled and awed, the other was the faintest of them all, a rich emerald that sent curiosity and gentle prodding at him. He recognized the latter, his bond with Jackson had gone dormant when the other had moved to London, but the new Alpha spark made it flare back alive. It was the brown bond that left Peter puzzled, until he locked eyes with Stiles. Oh. It was Noah. They hadn't had any bond, not even a faint one, because by technicality, Peter had been part of the McCall Pack and Noah hadn't been. Apparently, now that Peter was an Alpha, Noah slotted into place in their pack. The thought made Peter feel warm.

"Stop just standing there like a damn statue and tell me if it worked, damn it!"

"Close your eyes and feel for your bonds, darling," Peter chuckled. "That should tell you."

Stiles gasped softly and the gasp turned into a very different noise when Peter turned toward him to stare at him with blazing red eyes. The thick, heady scent of Stiles' arousal filled the clearing and with a careless wave of his hand did the mountain ash collect itself in a heap, allowing Stiles to sprint straight at Peter and launch himself at the wolf. At the Alpha.

"Fuck, that's hot," Stiles gasped, arms around Peter's neck.

His legs wrapped around Peter's waist and Peter was more than happy to grab his mate by the underside of his thighs, adjusting him to carry him a little more comfortably. Stiles moved his hands to grab Peter's face, caressing it as though he was trying to make sure Peter's shift wouldn't change into the monster he once was. His eyes were fixated on Peter's, teal locking with red.

"It worked," Stiles whispered, utterly pleased. "How are your injuries?"

"Already nearly all healed," Peter smiled, leaning in to kiss Stiles. "This is a strong Alpha spark."

"Good," Stiles sounded so relieved, pressing kiss after kiss to Peter's lip. "Up for a chase?"

"Mh?" Peter frowned, distracted by Stiles' lips.

"I don't want to wait. I don't want to spend months courting, I want you to be mine now. Chase me, catch me, claim me, Alpha," Stiles' voice was breathy but certain.

A deep growl was ripped from Peter's chest when Stiles called him Alpha. "Run, little Spark."

He put his clever boy down and then watched him run. Even though he'd been able to feel the exhaustion from Stiles through the bond just moments ago, a new rush of adrenaline gave him the boost to disappear into the trees. For a torturous moment, Peter waited, giving Stiles a head-start. Only when the noises of his running grew more distant did Peter take off. And as he ran, he let his wolf fully take over, only following the instincts to chase his mate, to claim the beautiful boy.

His view changed halfway through the chase. He found himself closer to the ground and faster, paws rushing beneath his body, the forest speaking to him so much louder.

His boy came back into view and Peter pounced. With a growl did he tackle Stiles to the ground, landing on top of him and pinning him by sitting on the boy's chest. Stiles stared wide-eyed and then his beautiful amber eyes softened in awe.

"You're beautiful," Stiles whispered gently.

He cupped Peter's face, caressing him, running his fingers through Peter's fur. The wolf's tail wagged pleased as he settled down on top of Stiles'. The broadest grin was on his boy's face.

"As pretty as your wolfy self is, if you want to claim me, you will have to change back."

Peter growled weakly and nipped at Stiles' chin, making the Spark laugh a little. Taking a deep breath, Peter pulled his wolf back in, feeling his body shift back human and caging Stiles in beneath him, arms on either side of Stiles' head. Stiles blinked up at him.

"I have full shift," Peter whispered amazed.

"And you're stunning," Stiles grinned. "Prettywolf."

"Mh. I may like that more than Zombiewolf and Creeperwolf," Peter mused playfully.

"Oh, shut up," Stiles rolled his eyes and bared his neck. "And claim me. I want to do this right. I want to start our pack together, as a mated pair, Peter. Give me the only bite you can give me."

Because Sparks were immune to the Bite. Stiles would have never turned into a wolf had Peter given him the Bite two years ago. But this bite? The mating bite? This, Peter could give him. Flashing his eyes at his mate-to-be, Peter sank his fangs in, careful not to dig too deep, while concentrating on their pack-bond, inherently tying it to the bite. The bond flared to life like a livewire, wrapping around them both and truly tying them together. For a moment, all of Stiles' emotions – love, adoration, wonder, trust, safety, fear, anticipation, excitement – overwhelmed Peter, drowning him until all he could breath, hear or taste was Stiles. When he pulled his teeth out and drew back from Stiles, he whole world seemed to have narrowed down to his boy. His mate.

"Mine," Peter growled, dark and pleased and possessive.

"Yours," Stiles gasped out, eyes hooded and warm. "Mine."

And with that claim, Stiles pressed his hands against Peter's chest, for just a moment, letting his magic flare and warm the wolf, before clawing his fingers into Peter's shirt and pulling him down into another kiss. Peter could taste Stiles' magic as the Spark claimed him in his own way.

"Yours," Peter agreed in a gentle whisper when Stiles let him go.

"Let's get back to the motel. I need a shower and a ten hour nap."

"Ten hours make it just a very good night's sleep, I believe, and not a nap."

"Don't argue with your mate," Stiles warned indignantly.

Peter couldn't help the enamored smile. "Yes, dear. I would never."

/break\

Stiles distinctly remembered falling asleep with a human man pressed against his back. Yet he woke up with a wolf happily snoozing all sprawled out over his chest. Huffing, Stiles tried to glare at his boyfriend – mate – which was very hard when Peter was this cute. The Alpha would certainly take offense to that, but damn. Wolves were adorable. And Peter? With the dark-brown, near black fur, longer than Stiles had expected on a wolf, and so, so soft.

"Oi, big dog, get off so I can go to the toilet," Stiles nudged Peter.

The wolf raised his head and had the audacity to whine at him. Stiles glared and nudged him again. How did a wolf manage to look like he was pouting? Absolutely ridiculous, why was Stiles in love with this man? He hurried to the bathroom to pee, shower and brush his teeth and by the time he emerged fully dressed, Peter had shifted back and gotten dressed too.

"Let's get out of here, I don't want to spend a moment longer in this dingy place than I have to, darling," Peter made a face as he looked around their room. "I want to return to our pack."

Stiles' heart was hammering in his chest at that. Their pack, indeed. Alpha and Alpha Mate of the Hale Pack. He couldn't keep from latching himself onto Peter and pulling him into a deep kiss. They'd done it, they'd killed an Alpha and claimed an Alpha spark for Peter. The pack-bonds still felt completely overwhelming to Stiles though. Not being a wolf, they had always been faint for Stiles. Barely there while he'd been part of the McCall Pack, because they all only had weak ties to the Alpha and a bond between betas could never be as strong as that to their Alpha. But now? Now, with an Alpha they believed in? And with Stiles' new position as Alpha Mate, someone who naturally had stronger bonds to the betas than betas had among themselves?

"Let's get home, Alpha," Stiles whispered against Peter's lips.

Peter flashed his eyes red and grinned at him before grabbing their things.

/break\

The time until graduation seemed to stretch on forever. It was good that they had some time, of course, because they still had a lot to take care of. Peter had to reach out to the Alpha Council of London to propose his pack's move and ask for temporary residency until the Alphas all agreed to new territory lines. The teens had to break it to their parents that they'd be moving to London and they also had to decide on what they wanted to do. Not all of them ended up picking colleges, and Peter made it abundantly clear that they didn't have to; the Hale funds were quite frankly large enough that none of them would have to worry about a career, but at the very least, they could absolutely be the cushion needed to buy the betas enough time to figure out what they wanted. And Noah had the time to file for retirement and ease Jordan Parrish into his new role as sheriff.

That one had been the biggest shock to Stiles and Peter still thought fondly of the look on his mate's face when Noah broke the news to them. The man had struggled with the idea of his son moving to London, but then when Peter had claimed the Alpha spark and Noah found himself with actual pack-bonds, not just to his son but to all of them, he couldn't imagine staying behind in this town where his wife had died and his son had nearly died. He too needed a fresh start.

Peter spent the time until graduation on house arrest, essentially. They didn't want to risk Scott, or a member of his pack, to realize Peter was an Alpha now. Ideally, they'd be able to leave Beacon Hills without a big confrontation and Stiles was doing his damnedest to ensure that. Peter unwillingly cooperated. Even with his back turned on Scott, Stiles would always hold a lingering affection for the boy who'd once been his brother, so for Stiles' sake, Peter would prefer not to tear Scott's throat out (and only Stiles' sake. Peter himself would love to sink his claws in).

Until, finally, the day came. Graduation. Peter stood next to Noah and Derek, clapping proudly for every single member of his pack but the proudest of his mate. As soon as Stiles had his diploma did the boy jump off the stage and jumped into Peter's open arms, kissing him like his life depended on it, in front of absolutely everyone. The outraged sounds from the McCall Pack would delight Peter for months to come. The cutest part was Stiles' bright blush when Coach Finstock clapped him on the shoulder and told him 'Good for you, Bilinski'.

Their worldly possessions were quickly packed up. Most furniture, aside from that which held genuine emotional attachment, was being left behind. All clothes and possessions were boxed up and sent to London. The cars would be shipped overseas too, of course. It were the things they couldn't pack that hurt the most. The graves of the Hale family, Claudia Stilinski, the Lahey family, Malia's mother and sister, Boyd's sister. The good memories that lingered around every corner. The woods where Peter had run in as a pup, alongside his siblings and parents. The woods he always dreamed he'd run in with his own pup one day. But then Malia's childhood had been taken from him.

"There are woods around London," Stiles spoke softly, arms wrapped around Peter's waist from behind. "And we'll run in them together, as a pack. And we'll make new memories. Together."

Peter took a shuttering breath and nodded, one last look at the broken remains of his family home.

"Let's go and build something new," Peter whispered, taking Stiles' hand. "Let's go home."

/break\

The noise Lydia made when they stepped out of the airport and laid eyes on Jackson was so high, it could probably only be heard by dogs. Which would explain why all wolves looked pained. Stiles just grinned as he watched her jump into her mate's arms and kiss him. The grin slowly died the longer the kiss went on. At one point, Stiles sighed and picked Lydia's bags up.

"Come on, guys. Ten hour flight," Stiles sighed. "Let's move this to the house. You two can kiss and… do whatever else you want as soon as we're there. Well, no, not 'as soon', please let me apply silencing runes to all bedrooms before you do anything more. Nobody needs to hear this."

"You are my favorite person," Isaac sighed relieved, nudging Stiles. "Silencing runes."

"Whatever, Stilinski. You know you missed me like hell too," Jackson grinned.

Adjusting Lydia to only hold her up with one arm, he reached out with the other to pull Stiles into a tight hug that he gladly joined, running his hand down Jackson's back. The bond between them had been dimmed by distance, but now, standing in Jackson's arms, it burned bright. Stiles' eyes softened as he looked around. Kira was leaning against Malia, half asleep. Erica and Peter were arguing about something with a very exasperated Derek next to them, while Boyd was helping Noah with the Stilinskis' luggage. Smiling pleased, Stiles stepped back.

"Time to go home, Hale Pack," Stiles announced, giddiness in his voice.

"The Hayes Pack helped me carry all the stuff of yours that already arrived into the house and all the furniture that you guys ordered that already arrived," Jackson informed. "But all of that still needs to be put together. Robert said they'd gladly help bring it inside but they wouldn't want to intrude on our pack's new den. He also extends an invitation for tea to our Alpha pair and Emissary. I told him that our Emissary is also our Alpha Mate and I think that just got him and his Emissary even more interested. Fair warning, his Emissary likes meddling."

"What does that mean," Stiles frowned warily.

Jackson shrugged. "Nothing bad. She's a nice lady, she's just nosy."

Stiles nodded. That, he could live with. Probably. Time would tell. For now, he just wanted to get settled in their new home and then see their pack really take roots. He blinked against the sun when they stepped out. London. This was a huge change, but hearing his pack around him, he felt like it was the right change. Peter stepped up to him and shifted his bags so he was carrying them all in one hand and had his other hand free to slip into Stiles. It made Stiles smile a little.

/omake: six months later\

"I have decided that actually, my ideal career path is to be your sugar baby."

Peter very slowly lowered his book to stare at his mate. Stiles and Lydia had just arrived back to the house for the weekend and though every fiber in Peter's being had made him want to jump up and run over to Stiles the moment he heard the Jeep pull up, he had contained himself. He knew everyone had missed Stiles, and Lydia for that matter, and he preferred to let the pups get their scent-marking in first, before Peter would steal Stiles into their den and keep him for as long as he could get away with it. Stiles groaned and dumped his bag in the corner before collapsing face-first on the bed, face buried in Peter's chest. The Alpha smiled and pulled his boy closer.

"You won't hear me object to that, darling," Peter chuckled. "Getting to spoil you at all times? You, no longer leaving for five days a week for that blasted college education?"

Stiles huffed weakly and swatted at Peter's chest. "I was only joking. I think I would actually go out of my mind if I didn't have anything to do at all aside from looking pretty for you. And I do love it. Most of the time. It's just… so exhausting. And most college students are so… shallow."

"That's because most college students haven't faced death repeatedly before graduation," Peter pointed out. "They were leading sheltered and safe and normal lives."

Stiles grumbled at that while slowly dragging his nose along Peter's collarbone. "How was the full moon run? Did you guys have fun with the other packs?"

Full moon runs had tradition on London, all London packs came together for them. The first time, Peter and Malia had gained a lot of attention and praise for being able to go into full-shift. Not many could. In London, the Hayes family were the only ones with that ability. Malia had ended up chasing after the Hayes Alpha's daughter Charlene for half the night before she found Kira much more interesting and went after her mate, who had been running with all other non-shifter members of the packs. Peter hated that his mate had to miss the latest full moon run since it had been during the week. The pack Emissaries usually ended it in a gathering in the clearing around the London Nemeton for a cleansing ritual that Stiles found highly fascinating.

"It would have been better if you had been with us," Peter replied after a moment.

Stiles lifted his head to offer Peter the softest smile and regardless of how often Peter got to see Stiles look at him like that – with love – it never failed to take Peter's breath away. He'd really done it. He had made his clever boy fall in love with him. He had reclaimed his status as Alpha and he had built the perfect pack, around himself and his Stiles. He'd done it.

"Do you think I can sneak you onto campus with me when I leave again on Sunday?" Stiles asked, stealing a kiss every two or three words. "Because I'm fairly sure Alpha kisses as rewards for studying would make the whole thing so—o much more pleasant."

"I'm sure it would, love," Peter smiled fondly. "Alas, my law firm doesn't run itself."

"Pff," Stiles waved a dismissive hand. "Lydia would totally run the place from Cambridge."

"She is not yet a lawyer," Peter pointed out dryly.

Stiles raised both eyebrows at him. "You think that'd stop her, or make her less efficient?"

Chuckling softly, Peter buried his face in Stiles' neck, deeply inhaling his mate's scent. He smelt like frustration from the drive here, like college, like that annoying roommate of his, but there, at the bottom of it all, he still smelt like Stiles. Like honey and lightning and old books.

"I really hope you two are decent in there," Noah called out, knocking on the bedroom door. "Boyd made dinner. Enough for a small army. We are being test subjects for his latest class project."

"Oh, I love when he was homework," Stiles grinned. "Culinary school is paying off for us."

He scrambled out of the bed to get downstairs for food, revitalized by the promise of Boyd's cooking. Peter remained in their bed for just another moment so he could marvel at the happy look on his mate's face, at how beautiful and perfect Stiles looked in their den like that.

"C'mon, Alpha, your pack is waiting for you," Stiles urged him on.

His pack. That was a thought that never failed to make him feel warm either. Three years ago, he'd had one weak bond, where he had latched onto Stiles with single-minded determination, and he had let it carry him until it strengthened, until more bonds joined it. Now, he had a whole pack. His pack. No, their pack. With a smile did Peter get up and walk over to his mate, pulling Stiles into one last kiss before leaving their bedroom and following Noah downstairs. Their pack. His happiness.

~*~ The End ~*~