Author's Note: For uncensored stories, visit me on AO3 or my blog, links to these are provided in my profile.
Peter wasn't used to being the damsel in distress. He was altogether mortified and amused at the same time, seeing as it was Stiles who rescued him. The skinny teen jumped in front of him, distracting the opposing pack trying to encroach on Hale-McCall territory. A soft fleshy human was just as fun to tear apart as an injured older beta. Totally ignoring the danger of the advancing wolves he flung mountain ash out in a haphazard circle. Peter collapsed on the ground as the other pack halted abruptly. Their Alpha growled, "You can't stay in there forever."
Stiles grinned, "Not going to hafta. My pack is coming," Scott's howl echoed far out in the forest, "and the local authorities as well as hunters are on their way too." Peter could hear the distant scream of the Sheriff's cruiser and another 4-wheel drive as the cars made their way into the Preserve.
The Alpha snarled, "We're not done here," as he and and the enemy pack scattered into the darkness.
As soon as they disappeared, Stiles dropped to his knees beside the older man. "Let me see," he prodded Peter's hand that was clasped around his thigh. Four long claw marks were still bleeding sluggishly, the older wolf lucky that he was only snagged as he was trying to sneak away.
"How did you find me?" Peter asked.
"Heh, I know you." Stiles smirked. "I knew you wouldn't be able to resist spying on them where they were camped out." The budding emissary took a jar out of his backpack and began rubbing some foul smelling paste on the wounds. "So I just looked at their pattern of attacks and sort of guessed where they were."
"And just like that you took off? Why would you come after me?" the former Alpha was having a hard time understanding why Stiles of all people would want to save him from danger.
"I couldn't let anything happen to my favorite creeper wolf." The words rolled lightly off his tongue but Peter was surprised to hear no skip in heartbeat. It wasn't a lie. Stiles sat down next to him as they waited for the pack to arrive. "What is taking them so long?"
Peter listened for a moment and chuckled, "Scott lost your scent briefly and turned the wrong way." The older man pointed to the mountain ash. "I see you are getting better at that."
"Yeah, I'm not as graceful as Miss Morrell and sometimes it's not a perfect circle." He gestured at the crooked lines surrounding them.
Peter eyed the young man, noting the deflection of the praise into something depreciative. "I'm not complaining." He said lowly. "The functionality was what was important at the moment." Stiles looked at him, his mouth slightly open in astonishment. Most likely due to the lack of snark in Peter's tone. The older man smiled and was pleased to note the blush that stole over the teen's face as he looked away.