It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single alpha in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a mate.
Whether or not Derek Hale felt that way was hardly a concern to the neighborhood — the very fact of his arrival was enough that the surrounding families seemed to consider him the rightful property of one or another of their eligible sons and daughters. That was, of course, before they met the man.
No one was more excited to hear the news than Stiles, although his thoughts were far from matrimonial in nature. He came skidding into the breakfast room of Beacon House in a flail of long limbs and shouted enthusiasm — enough to startle the new housemaid although the family themselves barely took notice, long-used to his antics.
"Scott! Scotty! Did you hear?" Stiles tumbled into his chair with enough force to send it tipping up on two legs before it clattered back to the floorboards. He managed to smear a triangle of toast with jam and shove it into his mouth without pausing in his delivery of the news. "Someone has finally rented that big old house in the Preserve, Netherfield Park," he mumbled through his mouthful of bread and jam, "and word in the village is that at least one of them is a werewolf — and an alpha, no less!"
That was enough to make John lower his newspaper and Melissa raise her eyes from the medical monograph she was perusing.
"An alpha — this far from the City?" Melissa repeated dubiously. Wolves were notoriously insular, and members of the proud and wealthy pack lineages had settled almost exclusively in the metropolis. "Well, you have to go and welcome them to the neighborhood, John."
"I do?" The sheriff raised an eyebrow.
"Of course you do!" Stiles and Melissa spoke the words simultaneously, Stiles' eager voice all but drowning out Melissa's more moderate tones.
"Because," Melissa carried on with a steely glance encompassing both Stilinskis. "If you don't go and arrange a formal introduction, you know it's going to be a matter of time until Stiles is caught sneaking around Netherfield to satisfy his own curiosity, and you don't want to have to be in the awkward position of arresting your own son. Again." Melissa turned back to her monograph with a satisfied air, ignoring Stiles' indignant sputtering.
"I wouldn't — I wasn't going to —"
"Stiles, you absolutely would," Scott interrupted with a smile so sunny that Stiles couldn't even be angry with him. "So quit while you're ahead and Dad is already planning to go."
Stiles turned his attention back to his father, who was smiling fondly at Scott calling him 'Dad,' something he'd only begun to feel comfortable doing in the last year or so. "Really? You're going to?"
"You are all behind the times," the Sheriff said gruffly. "I already sent over a card yesterday, telling them I'd call today. It's only polite."
Stiles squeaked in excitement and leaned forward, barely missing planting his elbow in the pot of marmalade.
"Do you know who the wolf is? Do you think he'll want Scotty in his pack? Maybe he knows more about that rogue alpha —"
"I already have a pack!" Scott interrupted staunchly. "I don't need to belong to any snooty werewolf pack when I have my own."
"Stiles, you know as well as I do that the werewolf authorities have already told us all that they are going to about Scott's Bite," the Sheriff added mildly.
"Werewolf authorities," Stiles repeated sullenly, picking at a loose thread on the embroidered tablecloth. "Like 'the situation has been dealt with' tells us anything. Where were they when Scott first turned and I was the one who had to raid the library to figure out what happened? Where were they during Scott's first moon when he practically tried to rip my throat out with his —?"
At a kick under the table from Scott, Stiles belatedly raised his eyes and caught the Sheriff's glare. He cut off his words abruptly, shoving another slice of toast into his mouth as he felt his cheeks flush.
"Maybe if you two had informed your father and Sheriff, not to mention Scott's own mother, what had happened, the werewolf authorities would have been a little more timely in their intervention." It wasn't the first time this argument had occurred, and Stiles should have known better than to let his mouth run away with him again.
"You know that was mostly my fault," Scott intervened, playing the peacemaker as always. "I was worried they would take me away if they knew, send me off to live with some pack of strange wolves in the City. And they might have if Stiles hadn't gotten me through my first full moon and given me the time to form a pack bond with you all."
"We never would have let that happen," Melissa reassured, ruffling Scott's hair affectionately. "And there's no point rehashing all of this. Wolf or not, I doubt any of our new neighbors are looking to add to their families or their packs, and we do just fine as we are."
Stiles grinned at her for the reprieve, his embarrassment already forgotten. "Dad, if you get the chance, maybe you could ask them something I've been wondering about, regarding the effects of wolfsbane powder relative to a tincture of wolfsbane in slowing healing…"
Scott was the best step-brother anyone could ask for, but as far as gossip went, he was the absolute worst.
"There's no point in speculating," he told Stiles placidly, as if he didn't even know who Stiles was. "We'll just have to wait until we meet them ourselves to find out what they're like."
And so, Stiles sought out his best friend in the village, Lydia Martin, who always managed to know everything about everyone while at the same time appearing completely unconcerned with any of the petty matters that she related. It was a considerable talent.
It took a fair amount of wheedling and compliments toward her genius before Stiles convinced her to pull her attention away from her mathematics, but when she finally did he was suitably rewarded.
"There are three in the party, that I know of," she finally disclosed. "Netherfield is being rented out to Allison Argent, and she's apparently a human, but she's bringing at least two of her childhood friends and they're both wolves. Derek Hale is an alpha, whose home estate of Pemberley borders that of the Argents. And Jackson Whittemore is a beta of the Hale pack, whose family manor borders Rosings, the estate of Hale's uncle and former guardian, Sir Peter Hale."
Stiles squinted at Lydia. "Do you have a map of their respective properties hidden somewhere under your skirt, or…?"
Lydia's withering gaze was both familiar and likely well-deserved. "Did you want information or not?"
Stiles nodded, chastened. "Continue, my queen."
Lydia flicked her hair back, preening. "All three of them are filthy rich and unmarried, and every eligible man and woman in the neighborhood is determined to land at least one of them, sight unseen."
"Present company excluded, of course," Stiles snarked.
"Well, I don't know about you, Stiles," Lydia sniffed. "Maybe you've been spending every night since you heard, dreaming about a virile alpha werewolf sweeping you off your feet…"
Stiles shoved her, ignoring the frisson of heat that raced up his spine at her words. "I like my feet firmly on the ground, thank you Lyds," he sniped. "And if I'm excited at anything, it's the thought of what information they might be able to give us to help Scott. You know he still has trouble some moons, and the few books on lycanthropy I've managed to get my hands on are probably nothing compared to the kind of stuff an ancient werewolf pack might have."
Stiles had chosen the right tactic, Lydia's green eyes gleaming at the thought of new information. Stiles would always be grateful that he had let her in on their secret after the near-disastrous first night of Scott's first full moon. Between Stiles' research skills and Lydia's flair for chemistry, they had worked up a wolfsbane sedative. It took some trial and error, but between the three of them they got Scott through the rest of the full moon without lasting consequences, aside from the four now-silvery scars marring Stiles' chest that no one else knew about.
"Do you suppose they would have any books on mathematics?" Lydia wondered, and Stiles smiled inwardly, knowing he had secured her support.