Chapter 34

The night after Derek and Stiles' honestly rather ill-advised bonding, Peter knocked on Stiles' bedroom door like a normal human being.

"Oh, hey," Stiles said, surprised.

"Hey," Peter replied with a half-smile. "Mind if I come in?"

Stiles' eyes promptly narrowed. "Since when are you asking?"

"Your father let me in, and we did promise to keep our meetings as above board as possible." Peter entered the room and wandered around for a minute, taking in all the drafts Stiles had taped to his walls. "I see that you and my nephew are taking the shop idea seriously." He pointed at a design that was distinctly female. "Catering to the ladies in the supernatural community?"

"Derek said that werewolf healing doesn't make you automatically exempt from period cramps, so yeah." Stiles shrugged. "Though he did make a fantastic point about healing meaning to actually point people in the right direction, rather than just putting a bandaid on it."

"I'm not sure I can follow," Peter said, abandoning the design and settling down on Stiles' bed. "Ignoring wolfsbane poisoning, werewolves and many other supernaturals are magically wired to be at peak condition."

"Yeah, you said that this is your default setting," Stiles replied. "But you also said that supernaturals can still suffer from a crap diet, or toxins in the environment. You know, just general shit humans have come up with in the last couple of centuries. I read those books you left my dad so I know now that all that stuff can cause serious imbalances. It'd be much better to nudge you guys in the right direction than mess around with your actual cells and magic and stuff."

Peter smiled sharply. "Very good reasoning. You should definitely test your hypothesis. I offer myself as a guinea pig as soon as your wolf decides my healing is done."

"Speaking of which, how is the med pack working out for you?" Stiles asked.

"It's fine, but a little rough on the constitution," Peter said. "I suspect it is mainly because the runes are on their own instead of being tempered by complementary runes. The flow of the magic the die generates isn't as smooth as it probably could be."

"I thought as much." Stiles handed Peter the writing pad he'd been scribbling on. "I'm on bind runes now, but they're really complex. Like, you can just smush runes together and it'll sort of work, but you can also make it beautiful, but then you'll have to watch out for balancing ... and make sure they still work as intended at all. It's insane."

"I believe I have several advanced works on runes in my library," Peter said as he traced a bind rune looking like a stylized house. "I'll digitize them next. Unlike the internet, the information in them is genuine and should help you along nicely."

"Cool. Oh, hey, I asked Isaac whether he'd like to design stuff for the shop. He said yeah, but he's no good with logos, and I guess we should have one. I also have no idea what to call myself without giving away too much."

"Isaac's in the same boat. His webcomic won't be ready for a long while yet, and he's uncertain whether he even wants to continue what he started," Peter said. "His main concern is that he won't be able to keep to a purely fictional story."

Stiles pondered this for a moment. "I can see that. He told me that drawing is his kind of therapy, so he'll probably want to draw what he knows."

"Exactly so. It also works, so I'm rather unwilling to stop him," Peter murmured. "The problem is the Statute of Secrecy, of course. It is unlikely that the Council will permit him to publicly chronicle his experiences."

"But … but there must be folks out there who could benefit from finding and reading such a thing." Stiles accepted the writing pad back and dropped it onto the desk. "If it had been around when Scott was turned, I might've known how to help him better."

"You'd have to have read it first, and with the vastness of comics on offer that might not have been guaranteed." Peter smiled at Stiles' huff. "But on principle, I agree. It'd be an engaging way to educate our folks, and to hide hints on where to find help and support."

Stiles could hardly believe that such a thing didn't already exist, and told Peter so.

"There are websites, of course," Peter said. "Not the one I've given you access to, but Council-approved sites to provide addresses and phone numbers for people in need. I'll show you if you like."

"Sure, let's see how your leaders deal with stuff." Stiles crossed his arms and spun a little on his chair. "I still think Isaac should draw what he wants to draw. He doesn't have to publish it, but if it helps him deal, why not? Also, it'd be fun to read our story like it didn't really happen to us."

"Are you really angling for him to become our chronicler?" Peter chuckled. "We'd be the first pack to have a comic instead of a book."

"And that would be a bad thing why?" Stiles asked, grinning back. "Isaac's totally gone on that drawing shtick, might as well let him do something useful with it. If he can't publish and sell it, it'd still be valuable to us."

Peter's entertained smile broadened. "I do like how easily you say 'us', Stiles."

"Shut up, Creeper Wolf." Stiles flushed. "I meant to ask … are you really alright with me snapping up Derek?"

Sobering, Peter patted the space next to him. "Come here, let's discuss this like family."

"I don't know, it'd bring me that much closer to your teeth," Stiles joked feebly. Peter's deadpan expression convinced him that he wasn't in any immediate danger and so they both scooted up the bed until they leaned against the headboard, shoulders firmly touching. "I gather this is complicated?"

Peter hummed softly. "In a way, but mostly it's the perfect solution."

"Wait, really?" Stiles stared at the werewolf. "How? You wanted him in your pack, I know it."

Peter tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling. "I did … and I do have him in my pack, now, just with a buffer between us. There really couldn't have been any other way. Derek would never have accepted me as his alpha."

"Because of Paige?" Stiles asked.

"And Laura." Peter sighed. "I still don't feel guilty over it; she came to end me, she said as much when she confronted me in the preserve that night. Said that me being out and about as a feral omega was the last thing she and Derek needed … I wasn't in my right mind anyway, but that made me snap."

A wounded sound made it out of Stils throat unbidden. "What a sucky thing to do to family."

"That's the whole point. She was family, and Derek will never be able to get past it, even for all of Laura's failings. She tried, but she fucked up like the rest of us. Honestly, to this day I don't know how I managed to overpower an alpha in her physical prime. Must've been pure dumb luck."

"And me acting as Derek's alpha will allow you both to be together?" Stiles asked doubtfully. It was hard talking around the scratchiness in his throat, but he beat it into submission. "I'll be in your pack soon, how is that not making him into your beta?"

"It's mostly semantics, but with magic, that makes all the difference," Peter explained. "I fully accept that Derek won't ever be able to trust me with his life. By choosing to accept your claim on him within my pack, it'll enable us both to enjoy safety in numbers and shared financial burdens while at the same time having a relationship with each other that won't demand more than we can give."

"Sounds cold to me," Stiles mumbled, feeling bereft on Peter's behalf, even if he also felt fiercely possessive of Derek. "I wish there was something I could do to make it go away."

"You've given us the next best thing," Peter assured him. He lifted his arm and pulled Stiles against him. "Short of raising our family from the dead and making everything whole again, Derek and I can be happy with this arrangement. I'll certainly work hard to make him feel welcome."

Stiles poked him half-heartedly. "And you really won't try to go all alpha on us?"

Peter's melancholic smile turned into a smirk. "I might go all alpha on you , sweetheart, but unless my dear nephew is endangering all of our lives and you're not on hand to deal with it, I'll behave. You have my word - and I'll add the legalese to our agreement as soon as I get home."

"Thank you, Peter." Stiles leaned further into the man and relaxed into the warmth he exuded. "For everything."

"Just doing my part," Peter murmured and snuffled along Stiles' hairline and into his new undercut, just coasting on Stiles' smell and the closeness and rumbling with contentment.

Stiles blushed a little, felt bad for a second, and then decided that snuggling with Peter felt too good to worry about trivial things like his father's heart health when he had a perfectly fine, digitized copy of the healing book on his phone. Any minor coronaries surely could be healed in a jiffy.

From the way Peter was keeping him close, he was of the same opinion.

oOo

Another week later, the high school finally got a new principal. It was a tough-looking, tall woman of African-American descent who looked like she could snap Jackson in half if he so much as toed the line.

Stiles instantly respected the hell out of her and was not a little intimidated when one of the first orders of Mrs. Amahle Hicks was to call him and several other students for a talk.

"She's scary," Erica whispered as they were waiting before the office for their turn. "Let's hope she's not another nutjob like Allison's grandpa."

Isaac on her other side shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I wonder what she wants to see me for. My grades aren't too bad."

"They aren't but there's still room for improvement," Stiles replied. "She'll probably just want to know how you're doing, whether your situation has stabilized, and how you see yourself doing at graduation. I had that talk after my mom died, only with my dad doing most of the talking."

"So, just a check-up?" Isaac clarified.

"I think so." Stiles straightened when the secretary called Erica's name. "Same goes for you, Catwoman. See you in a few."

Erica went and was only gone for ten minutes before she stepped back out.

"All good?" Isaac asked.

She nodded slowly. "Yes, I just …"

"Stiles, it's your turn now," the secretary called. "Hurry up, the principal is on a tight schedule today."

"I'll tell you all later," Erica decided. She bussed a red, sticky kiss onto Isaac's forehead, smiled at Stiles, and left for class.

Sighing, Stiles trudged into the office and sank onto the hard visitor's chair in front of Mrs. Hick's desk. "Hello, ma'am."

"Hello, Mr. Stilinski," the principal answered. She tapped his open file with a long, painted red fingernail. "I just wanted to get to know all of the students on the advanced track before I'll get mired with the day-to-day business of leading a high school. Your grades are exemplary and several teachers have recommended transferring you to a school in Redding that offers classes for highly gifted children. Now, your personal situation obviously made this impossible, but have you given your advanced education some thought already?"

"Well, beyond graduating early not really," Stiles admitted, grateful that Mrs. Hicks wasn't belabouring his personal situation further. "I have a lot of different interests that sort of clash with each other. Plus, I dunno yet what I really want to do for a job, yet. That's my biggest issue because studying isn't really a problem. I'd get around to everything eventually."

"Yes, I can see how that'd be your main concern," Mrs. Hicks agreed and smiled briefly. "It's not my business to push you into one direction or the other. However, I do hope that you'll apply for all the best colleges because I do think that you'd stand a very good chance of getting accepted. One does not have to be an outstanding athlete to receive scholarships and grants. If you continue to impress with your grades, I'd be more than willing to write a letter of recommendation and set you up with interviews at the colleges I have contacts with."

"Wow, thank you, ma'am," Stiles blurted. "But, uhm, I'm not really the type to join school clubs … won't that make me look bad?"

Mrs. Hicks smiled again. "Ordinarily, proof of social or political engagement would be encouraged, but I think we can both agree that not everybody is suited to such. If you prefer to concentrate on your studies, I don't see a problem with that. Your grades certainly support this assumption. Besides, you were a member of the lacrosse team for several years. You can hardly be blamed for leaving if all you ever got to do was bench warming."

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm developing a little crush on you," Stiles confessed. He patted his chest. "Like, right here."

Laughing, Mrs. Hicks made a note in his file. "I'm flattered. Now on to the less pleasant topic of Allison Argent. It's noted here that the whole family was served with a restraining order. This concerns me greatly, if I'm being at all honest, especially since the girl seems to be unwilling to leave you be."

"I'm sorry for the inconvenience," Stiles said sincerely. "The family is a little …"

"Extra?" Mrs. Hicks asked and raised an eyebrow. With her tall build and shortly cropped hair she looked like a mildly incredulous, dark-skinned Vulcan.

Stiles blew out a breath. "Yes, that. I hope she'll leave well enough alone, but I'm glad the guards are having an eye on her."

"Rest assured that I'll talk with her as well, though not today. I'll need more time for that conversation." She made another note in the file. "Following that conversation, I'll decide whether Miss Argent may remain at school. There seems to be a history of mental illness and assault in her family and it is too bad this only became known after trouble had already found your family. For what it's worth, I'm sorry."

"It was very unfortunate, ma'am," Stiles murmured, biting the inside of his cheek to refrain from saying more. "Maybe the school board will ask for better background checks from now on?"

Mrs. Hicks' droll look was telling. "Cheeky bugger. If you don't have any other topics you'd like to go over right now, I'll send you on to class. Get an appointment for just before the end of term so we can discuss your accelerated course load for your last year."

"Will do," Stiles promised, getting to his feet. "Thanks, ma'am."

As he left, Isaac was called in. Setting up the appointment and getting a hall pass for Chemistry was the work of five minutes, which unfortunately meant that Stiles still had twenty minutes of Chemistry with Harris to suffer through. Since it was theory today, he couldn't even rationalize skipping the class altogether, although he'd have loved to sit outside in the sun for a while.

Shuffling along, Stiles longingly looked out of the side door. A second later he decided to just fuck it and shouldered his way through the door.

New principal is an Amazon. Skipping Chemistry to keep riding that high, he typed and hit sent.

Peter answered less than a minute later. You're such a bad boy.

Snorting loudly, Stiles nearly spewed the mouthful of water he'd just sipped from his bottle. "Fucking hell, Peter."

The quiet sound of footsteps had him flail around.

"Hello, Stiles."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "Allison!" He looked around, hoping beyond hope that a security guard would come upon them right now and shoo her away. "I have to go. Bye."

Her placid expression didn't change at all as the easily followed him on her long legs. She didn't even look hurried. "I just want a minute, Stiles."

"Tough, because you don't get a minute," Stiles retorted. He flailed his arms at her. "Go away."

He stumbled backwards and was just turning to run when her small hand gripped his arm like an iron vice.

"Hey!" he protested, yanking futilely against her hold.

Allison looked steadily at him, coolly ignoring Stiles' huffing and puffing. "Take this with the Argent family's best regards," she said formally. "It won't return the lives lost, but maybe it will help preserve lives in the future. Whenever the Hale pack is in need of assistance, an Argent will answer the call."

With that she pressed something small into Stiles' captured hand, nodded once, and left as quickly and silently as she'd come.

Alone again, Stiles needed several moments to calm his breathing and his jackhammering heart before he could find out what she'd forced on him.

It was a black, nondescript USB stick.

As if in a trance, Stiles dialled Peter. "Can you get me from school?"

End of chapter 34