Remember when I wrote at the beginning of this story that it wouldn't get too long?

Yeah, I didn't either.

Now I feel like an idiot ... I'll never learn to keep my mouth shut about predicted length.

Chapter 37

All through next week, Stiles was distracted. While he did his best to be mentally present in school, especially when he was spending time with his friends, it was hard to shove his father's observations aside. Not even the news that the Argents had left town overnight, pending legal action notwithstanding, could take Stiles' mind off the matter.

Since he was still on medical leave, Stiles spent the time Isaac was taking part in the martial arts lessons sitting at the side of the dojo and agonizing over every text he received from, or sent to, Peter.

"You know that this is getting ridiculous," Isaac complained on Thursday after his training was finished. "Why won't you just tell me what your dad wanted on Saturday?"

"Because it's utterly dumb," Stiles said tightly. "It's just something I have to deal with because talking about it won't change a single thing. I tried for four days so I know what I'm talking about."

"Then your dad was just being a dick?" Isaac asked hesitantly. He finished stuffing his bag between his feet and turned a little in the passenger seat to get a good look at Stiles.

"Basically, but also not really." Stiles blew out a breath and restlessly drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. "It was just something about not harming the case against Scott, so I understand where he's coming from. It still makes me mad, because I think he's imagining things."

"It sounds slightly insane without any context, but I think I know what this is about." Isaac sank into the seat and pulled out the seat belt to buckle himself in. "He clued in on Peter's, er, fascination with you, didn't he?"

Stiles stared out the window for a long moment. "Yeah," he finally said, "and it was excruciating. Like he actually expects me to be so dumb and hit on Peter when we all know just how improbable him responding positively to it would be. I'm not that much of a masochist."

"Awkward," Isaac muttered. "And also mean, making you aware of that shit."

"Right? Because I wasn't aware!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Imagine that there actually were something there … that stupid talk would've totally ruined it. Like, the whole getting closer thing would be completely blown. And what's a love story without the anticipation and the nerves?"

Isaac shrugged, although he smiled a little too. "Yeah, I guess that'd make the whole thing sorta boring." He rubbed Stiles' shoulder comfortingly. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry. Parental reality checks are the worst, even if you weren't planning on doing anything about what they're checking."

Now that it was out in the open, the pressure was actually leaving Stiles' body in a slow but steady stream.

Who knew that talking to a friend would've actually helped?, he mused. I guess that just goes to show how unhelpful trying to talk to Scott sometimes was. Especially after he got turned.

"But I gotta ask ... you really weren't trying to flirt with Peter?" Isaac asked, disturbing Stiles' chagrined thoughts. "Sometimes I wasn't so sure."

Stiles coloured a little. "Well, not at first, what with him being half-feral and stuff. But dude, he's hot. And a lot older than us so I kinda thought it was safe after a while, you know? Like, hey, there's a dude you can practice your pitiful wiles on when he's in a good mood. Just for kicks, though; despite my dad's talk I'm not in the habit of seriously pursuing older people."

"I know," Isaac assured him. "Man, what a weird situation. Just think what Erica would say if she knew. She'd laugh her head off."

"And then flirt the crap out of Peter," Stiles added, grinning a little at the thought. "She'd go through with it, too, given half a chance."

"Yeah, which is kind of skeevy, but I guess with her sickness she just wants to enjoy herself." Isaac's stomach growled loudly. "Ow, time to feed the beast. Are we still going to the diner, or do you wanna go home?"

"Are you crazy? My dad's still looking at me weirdly, we're staying out for as long as possible," Stiles retorted. He smiled gratefully at the other boy. "Thanks for listening, man. I should've known that you'd understand."

"Maybe I won't, sometimes, but I'll always try," Isaac told him quietly. "We're pack, and we're friends. That doesn't change just because you find Peter aesthetically pleasing. Everybody does, after all, even the lesbians that are running his favourite coffee shop."

The last of the tension left Stiles' guts and he took a deep breath before starting the jeep. "Yeah, they totally do. I saw Gemma slip him her number way back when."

As a thank-you for his patience, Stiles treated Isaac at the diner and they spent a much more enjoyable hour discussing the new cards Isaac had painted for their shop. With five motifs total they definitely had laid the groundwork for their products. Now it was Stiles' turn to turn the lifeless pictures into something magical and after the terrible week he'd had he couldn't wait to finally sink his teeth into their work again.

oOo

Peter didn't call Stiles on his skittishness during that one week, but after Stiles' talk with Isaac on Thursday, something changed in their interactions.

Stiles couldn't fault Isaac for talking to Peter about it; heck, he'd half prayed for something to give himself, so the peace of mind he'd achieved wouldn't be shot again, but ...

But something was missing in their interactions now and it was making Stiles suddenly feel insecure. It was like Peter had taken a step back metaphorically, even if he still came over for visits and sent lunch with Isaac just like before. Nothing tangible had changed at all, even the negotiations were progressing at a steady pace.

And yet Stiles didn't feel as needed anymore all of a sudden, or as wanted. It was like an ice cold shower on his feelings which just wasn't stopping after it had begun.

"You look like a drowned poodle, figuratively speaking," Jackson announced on Tuesday after dropping into the chair next to Stiles during lunch. "But also literally. Even your hair is drooping, Stilinski."

Across from Stiles his friends were stopping eating mid-chew and stared.

Undeterred by their amazement, Jackson continued, "So what's up. Did you manage to find someone dumb enough to date you and got tossed?"

"No," Stiles murmured resentfully. "Fuck off, Jackson."

Jackson just scoffed. "I know dating fails when I see them. Danny's a pro at them."

"You lie. Everybody loves Danny," Erica interjected bravely.

"They love him in their beds," Jackson retorted off-handedly. "Hard to have a relationship with a dickhead that only wants to get in your pants and doesn't return your calls the rest of the time. So, what happened? Did you get dumped?"

"No," Stiles repeated, although it felt like a lie.

Jackson just snorted. "Whatever. You losers doing something this weekend?"

"Why?" Boyd asked, tone vaguely threatening.

"Lydia's throwing a 'school's out soon' party and for some reason she's decided to invite you," Jackson said nonchalantly and slid four flyers across the table. "Admittance only with these tickets. It's an exclusive event."

Stiles could hardly believe his ears. "Lydia's never cared who appears at her parties before."

"This time she does," Jackson replied with a shrug. "So don't lose those."

"But you know who we are," Isaac said, confused. "Why the tickets?"

Jackson glanced at Isaac. "You could, theoretically, give them away, that's why. I wouldn't recommend it, though."

"Okay," Stiles said to put an end to the conversation. "Thanks for thinking of us. Now shoo."

Without protest Jackson got up and sauntered away.

"What's up with him?" Erica asked, confused. "Last year you were at each other's throats and now he's inviting us all to an exclusive party? Did he and Lydia hit their heads or something?"

Stiles couldn't care less at the moment, but Boyd's question of whether he planned on going forced him to push his bad mood aside for a moment. "I don't know," he said honestly. "I agree with Erica; it's strange of them to suddenly invite us. You think they might've been replaced by pod persons?"

Isaac threw a chickpea at Stiles. "No."

"Maybe she thinks we're all friends now," Erica offered. She tapped her friendship bracelet. "Might be because of those."

"Do you really believe that?" Boyd questioned, one eyebrow raised.

Erica shrugged slightly. "Nothing else makes sense this late in the year. Exams start on Monday and after that we probably won't see each other until school starts again in the fall. If Lydia's networking, she's chosen a weird time for it."

Stiles didn't agree - in Lydia's world there probably didn't exist a bad time for networking - but he had to admit that her reasons eluded him just as they did the others.

With a sigh he took the phone out of his pocket and typed messages to his father and Peter. Better to get permission now than leaving it until the the last minute, even if he decided not to go after all.

"You don't seem very enthusiastic," Erica said when Stiles had put his phone away again. "What's wrong?"

"Just a little tired," Stiles muttered, poking the bok choy in his chop suey. It wasn't a lie, exactly. He was still working through the last of the stiffness after his adventure at the transformer station, and sometimes his cheekbone still hurt a little, despite the gentle healing he afforded himself every couple of days. But most of all the situation with Peter was tiring. "Are you going?"

A surprisingly sharp smile blossomed on Erica's face. "As if I'd miss this."

Boyd nodded and Isaac gave this little shrug that told Stiles that he'd go if Stiles went but was indifferent to it otherwise.

"Don't be mad if I chicken out at the last minute," Stiles sighed. "I'm not really in the mood for Lydia's Queen B antics."

"It's not a no, so I'll take it," Erica replied happily.

"Speaking of taking," Boyd said, "are you really going to take the advanced tests in all of your subjects? Finstock showed me an old one for econ and it was hard."

Stiles gratefully set his fork down. "Yeah, I have to if I want to graduate early and impress the colleges I'm applying to. But it's gonna be alright, I studied enough."

"We did, too, I think," Erica said. She smiled at Boyd. "It was good to have a study partner. Maybe we can do that more next year, with all of us together."

"Sure, I'm game," Stiles agreed. "Once a week for starters?"

The others were good with that and shortly after their talk turned to their more concrete plans for the summer, especially the trips to the lake Erica was dying to take.

oOo

Stiles had thought that Peter wouldn't have to say a lot, if anything, about the party Lydia was throwing on Saturday, but he couldn't have been more wrong. Peter obviously deemed this event important enough to appear in Stiles' bedroom via the time-honoured practice of entering through his window, where the mountain ash barrier was doing precisely nothing to keep him out, and to bring a whole sheaf of papers, nicely bundled within an expensive looking leather folder, with him.

"What's all this?" Stiles asked when he'd recovered from his surprise.

"Hello to you too, Stiles," Peter quipped and handed the folder over. "Read this before you go to that party tomorrow."

At once, Stiles' eyes narrowed. "Are we about to have a row?" he asked.

Peter's eyes had a slightly reddish sheen as he said, "That depends on how reasonable you're going to be."

"Oh, so it's gonna be like that," Stiles drawled. He flipped the folder open and skimmed the thirteen new paragraphs Peter intended to add to their agreement. At least nine of them were about what Stiles was allowed to do with who in a variety of situations. "Wow, possessive much?"

"You have no idea," Peter said tightly without an ounce of shame. "I've observed the woman these last few days. Looks like Jackson told her everything about what he's found out so far, and your little gift has made her curious."

"It did," Stiles agreed. "It seemed like she could feel something in the bracelets."

"And you didn't bother telling me this?" Peter growled.

"I thought Isaac already had," Stiles defended himself. "Since he's firmly in your corner, it's sorta his job. Mine, not so much."

"Yet," Peter growled.

"Yet," Stiles agreed, though not without a defiant shrug. "I still don't get what brought this on." He flicked the offending legalese.

"Biting Lydia Martin might not just have served the single purpose of drawing you out," Peter confessed after a long moment. His eyes were fully red now, and stayed that way.

All humour fled Stiles and he scowled. "What other reason did you have?"

"I wasn't really all there back then, as you know, but I did feel a certain difference about her. Some untapped potential that I thought I could maybe unlock with my bite. You being obsessed with her only made her a more attractive target that night … I was catching two birds with one stone, so to speak."

"You asshole!" Stiles shouted and threw the folder against Peter's chest with all his might. "What, did you think you'd be able to lure more people if you had her as a bargaining chip?"

Peter accepted the abuse as his due. "Yes, exactly. Had she not been immune, it might've even worked."

"Or we'd have killed you in your sleep," Stiles snarled. Fury was pounding through him, making his temples and insides pulse with its strength. "You'd have deserved it!"

"But she didn't turn, and through the events afterwards I regained my sanity," Peter said. "I wouldn't do the same today, if that's any consolation. However, the fact remains that Lydia is sort of tethered to me now, and through me, to you. No matter how flimsy the connection might be, it is there and will influence you both in ways I can't predict. That's why I don't want you to spend time with her, or worse, share intimacies."

"Well, you're fresh out of luck," Stiles snarled - honestly snarled - and grabbed a pencil, in case he felt the urge to stab the werewolf. "I'm not in your pack yet, and you won't ever get to tell me who I'm allowed to spend time with if it's not a life or death matter."

"I wouldn't presume," Peter said stiffly. "Lydia Martin is still a special case and I would have you be careful around her."

"Your little addendum didn't explain why, so this is your one and only chance," Stiles snapped. "Say something dumb and it's back to square one … if you're fucking lucky."

Peter stared at him for the longest time, just piercing Stiles with his glowing gaze. At long last, he said, "I believe that Lydia is a banshee. That's why she was able to detect the magic in your bracelet."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "You're fucking kidding me!"

"I assure you that I'm not," Peter replied, still on his guard. "I am near her often and every time that feeling is a little stronger. It can't be long before her powers manifest."

A bunch of expletives escaped Stiles' mouth before he was even consciously aware of uttering them.

When he'd wound down, Peter continued, "She's in a place of great uncertainty right now. Her magic is grasping for a connection to something or someone magical she feels is safe … and that is you, Stiles."

"Well, fine! I'd be happy to … to anchor her, or whatever it is she needs."

Peter shook his head. "It's more than just mooring her to the here and now. There is a power imbalance between the two of you due to your feelings for her. Should you accept her hold on you, she might be able to coerce you into doing things for her you wouldn't ordinarily do for anyone. And before you say that dear Lydia isn't like that … she is like that. She's an ambitious woman with a thirst for recognition and dominance in her domain. Having one like you in her thrall would probably eradicate her morals far quicker than you'd think."

"You don't know that," Stiles argued.

"And you don't know her as well as you think," Peter returned. "Suspecting or hoping for a heart of gold underneath that arrogant exterior regrettably doesn't make it so."

Stiles mulled this over, forcing himself to give Peter's argument the same value as his own opinion. It didn't take very long to realize that there really was no competition between fact and emotion. Stiles might've been infatuated for years, but the sad truth was that Lydia did treat others mostly like they were beneath her, even Jackson, occasionally.

"And that's why you want to hobble my decision-making abilities?" he finally asked, still resentful but mostly at himself now. "So she won't get her claws in me?"

"Yes," Peter stated bluntly. "Of course you're free to make friends as you will, and to explore your business opportunities in a way that suits you best. But as a member of my pack, the pack has to be a consideration. That means that freelancing to your heart's content is out of the question, because the pack and the territory come first. It also means that magically bonding with a supernatural creature outside the pack will be subject to scrutiny, and approval or rejection by the pack."

"Not just you?" Stiles asked sharply.

Peter's lips curled and revealed a hint of fang with his tense little smirk. "I'm hardly unbiased, am I?" At Stiles' searching look, he exhaled and said, "I can't trust just myself with this; the thought of sharing you in this manner makes me feel … unsettled."

"Unsettled," Stiles echoed, disbelieving. The man a yard or so away from him let his eyes flash even brighter, a shadow of amber passing through the red restlessly. As weird as it seemed, apparently Scott's former wolf spark actually agreed with Peter.

"Yes. In a manner that makes ripping that woman's head off seem like a very good idea," Peter elaborated. "No matter that you'd hate me for it."

Stiles grimaced. "You really can't stand her, can you?"

"As people are fond to say: I hate her with the passion of a thousand burning stars," Peter growled. "I hate the power she has over you even now, when she can't possibly understand your value. I won't let her ruin you."

A lot of the pent-up anger fled Stiles then, and something warm and fluffy was sparking in his chest. "I'm sort of flattered, Creeper Wolf. But your addendum needs work." He gestured uncertainly to the slightly worn folder in Peter's clawed hand. "You think we can work things out until tomorrow? Because I'll go to that party, and I'll still try and work at being Lydia's friend. That's not negotiable."

Peter held out his free hand and, when Stiles warily accepted, pulled him to his feet. They were so close that their body heat mingled. "Yes," he said quietly. "I told you in the beginning that we'll work everything out, Stiles, no matter how difficult. Thank you for meeting me halfway."

"That's what you do with friends," Stiles mumbled, suddenly inexplicably shy. He glanced at Peter, guiltily taking in his burning eyes and distractingly handsome face, and cursing himself for it.

Thanks, dad, Stiles thought a little hysterically. Thanks for making this so much more awkward than it has to be.

Peter, on the other hand, appeared to be supremely unconcerned by Stiles' spiking scent and minute tensing. If anything he looked pleased by the conclusion of their argument, if not a little smug about the effect he was having on the teen.

End of chapter 37