It's really taking me ages lately to post new chapters, sigh. But the heat is gone and I expect to get back into the swing of things now. Autumn is my favourite writing time for a reason; it's so easy to curl up inside when the weather is grey and wet and get creative. :)

Chapter 41

Stiles was downright impatient the next morning and left the house as soon as his father had come home and gone to sleep. He left a note on the fridge door so the man wouldn't have a heart attack when he found his son missing, but that was all the courtesy Stiles was willing to extend. Finalizing the agreement with the Argent clan was far more important right now, and frankly, he was also a little pissed with his father for not trusting him enough to be a responsible near-adult.

Plus, Stiles was so looking forward to breakfast. For all that Peter was a health nut, his low carb waffles and generous amounts of organic bacon were the food of the gods. Never mind the rest of the stuff that graced Peter's table.

The drive through Beacon Hills this early on a Sunday was quiet and completely unhindered by red lights or other drivers. Stiles made such a good time that he decided to stop at everyone's favourite bakery and get a few croissants and eclairs before invading the apartment.

The decision proved to be a good one because the smell of the fresh pastries lured both Derek and Isaac from Derek's more or less illegally appropriated den on the second floor, and like the sleepy puppies they were they greeted Stiles with warm hugs and contented cheek rubs. In Derek's case that meant a serious case of beard burn, but Stiles just grinned and handed his beta - and it would never get old that he had a beta now - an eclair as reward.

"You're so mean," Isaac whined. "Why can't I have a treat, too?"

"Because Peter would disembowel us both," Stiles snarked back. "You can ask him in a minute, dude."

Isaac grumbled all the way up, practically glued to Stiles' side. The door to Peter's apartment stood wide open and the delicious smell of coffee and cooking bacon wafted into their noses.

"Good morning," Peter greeted, dressed in an old black band T-shirt, dark blue shorts, and a dark apron proclaiming him a god among chefs. He casually flipped an omelette and then pointed at the table where plates and cutlery were waiting to be placed. "If you would?"

"Sure." Stiles dropped his backpack by the door. "I'll just place this really unhealthy stuff with the gluten free toast."

"Feel right at home, you little shit," Peter said fondly. "Give Isaac his croissant before he starts a riot."

Isaac cheered, practically ripped the bag with the pastries out of Stiles' hands, and skipped over to the coffee machine to make himself a triple shot latte.

"Why did you stay up so late?" Stiles asked the other teen, snorting about Isaac's impatient bouncing. "You're almost worse than me on too little sleep and too much caffeine."

Peter let his omelette glide onto a plate and beckoned Stiles over for a short one-armed hug. "They binged Numb3rs until three in the morning and decided to research some of the methods because they thought it'd be fun."

"Were drugs involved?" Stiles wondered, stealing a slice of pepper and popping it in his mouth.

"No, just the common youthful recklessness. What do you want on your omelette?"

"Everything," Stiles said immediately. "Except mushrooms because ewww."

"Heathen," Peter chided.

"Snob," Stiles shot back and wandered off to get his own latte macchiato.

Once there, Derek loomed at his shoulder, wordlessly first staring at the brushed steel and chrome monstrosity and then looking meaningfully at Stiles.

"You still haven't repaired my jeep," Stiles reminded him as he measured a spoonful of vanilla sirup into a glass. "Bad puppy."

"I needed to order some parts first," Derek rumbled, leaning further against Stiles and nearly overwhelming him with his weight. "They'll arrive next week. I'll deal with her when you're taking exams so Isaac will come pick you up with his bike on those days."

"Oh. Okay then." Stiles pressed the button and watched a beautiful latte materialize. Handing it over to Derek he added, "Sorry for being mean, Sourwolf."

"You weren't mean," Derek told him. He wandered off to help Isaac set the table, though not without casually rubbing his cheek against Stiles' shoulder first.

Something warm bloomed in Stiles' midsection and he couldn't help but grin with pleasure. He might never get around to taking the bite but he adored being friends with werewolves. As physical as they were in showing their affection, Stiles hardly ever had to wonder where he stood. Even Peter had thawed considerably over the nearly five months they'd known each other and what Stiles got to discover underneath that slightly creepy exterior was …

Nope, not gonna go there, Stiles told himself, cutting that thought off rigorously.

"You're spoiling him," Peter commented, interrupting Stiles' internal self-flagellation. With deft movements he sprinkled cheese, ham, little cubes of red and green pepper, and half a handful of herbs onto the egg in the pan. A healthy pinch of salt followed and, when Stiles nodded, a sprinkle of black pepper as well. "He'll get used to it if you keep it up."

"So what," Stiles replied with a shrug. "He's family now and I tend to coddle the shit out of my family."

The answer didn't seem to surprise Peter in the slightest. He merely hummed quietly in response and folded Stiles' omelette with a deft flick of his spatula.

"Anyway, can I help with something?" Stiles asked, gesticulating at the work top.

"You could make me a coffee, since you know how I drink it," Peter said. "Other than that you can just sit down and make sure the brats don't eat everything before I get there."

"Will do, Big Bad."

Stiles prepared a caramel latte for Peter, taking it and his omelette to the table and sat where Derek pointed. There was already freshly squeezed orange juice in his glass, just waiting to be watered down with Peter's fancy spring water from Fiji, and someone had thoughtfully placed one of the croissants onto his plate.

"The waffles and bacon are in the oven," Derek told him. "I'll get them when Peter's done cooking, but you can start eating if you're hungry."

"Nah, I'm good," Stiles said, with his eyes devouring all the delicious things already on the table. "We'll wait until everything is ready."

Isaac, who'd just reached for an eclair, huffily leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "Fine."

"Dude, he's literally cooking for you right now. Don't be an ass." Stiles kicked the other boy underneath the table. "No sleep makes Isaac a very grumpy puppy."

Wolfing out, Isaac showed off his sharp teeth and glowing eyes, but Stiles' heart didn't even skip a beat. The corners of Derek's mouth turned up a little and Isaac gave up the transformation to sulk some more.

Not too long after, Peter delivered more omelettes and Derek went to get the waffles and bacon from the oven. It was all very domestic, so Stiles snapped a selfie with the others in the background and cackled when he discovered Isaac's dark scowl and Derek's unimpressed eyebrow-lift in the picture. Peter, however, was just smiling slightly, a hint of red in his irises.

"What?" Stiles asked the staring werewolves. "The feast has been served, you may eat et cetera."

Snorting, Peter picked up his fork and inhaled a large chunk of his omelette, followed by a sip of coffee.

Stiles expected Isaac to pounce, but he surprised Stiles by staring expectantly at him instead.

"What?" Stiles demanded.

"I thought you were hungry," Derek said casually, and yes, Stiles' stomach chose that exact moment to growl loudly.

"Right," he replied, flushing with embarrassment. Hastily he shoved a bite of his eggs into his mouth and moaned with bliss when the taste of buttery French cheese and fresh herbs exploded on his tongue. "Uh, wow, the Almighty Father must've forgiven all my sins because this is heaven."

"Why, thank you, Stiles," Peter purred. He leaned back and took another sip of his latte, eyes firmly on Stiles as he enjoyed his food. "It's always nice to be appreciated."

"Dude, if I appreciate you any harder I might lose my mind," Stiles mumbled through a mouthful of bacon-and-butter-topped waffle that simply couldn't wait a second longer.

Peter's smug smile widened. "Wouldn't that be a sight."

"Ugh, please stop," Isaac complained. He finally grabbed the eclair he'd been eyeing. "You're both disgusting."

"Whatever did I say, Isaac?" Peter asked innocently.

Derek paused in his chewing and glared at his uncle. "Seriously?"

"What?" Stiles asked, bemused at the suddenly smouldering hostility between the werewolves. "Can't a dude even compliment some seriously awesome food anymore? If so, I want out of this sorry club pronto, sheesh. No one needs toxic masculinity."

"Never mind my dear nephew, Stiles," Peter said smoothly. "He obviously got up on the wrong foot ... both of them. Breakfast will hopefully improve their disposition."

"Not likely," Derek grumped, but he went back to emptying his plate and dropped the subject.

"No, don't ask," Isaac said somewhat sharply before Stiles had a chance to reply. "It's not worth it."

Stiles begged to differ, but he didn't want to ruin the morning by demanding an explanation and provoking an uncomfortable discussion. Unfortunately, however, he wasn't wired that way; letting things go just wasn't in his nature. Therefore, the next best thing was a change of topic and he chose the safe option of their little magic shop on Etsy. He'd wanted to grill Peter on the legalities anyway so this time was as good as any.

"You could probably front it," Stiles allowed after Peter had scoffed at the notion of handing out a business loan, "but we don't even need all that much to get started so it's not like we can't pay it back eventually. I mean, there must be people out there who are willing to buy our stuff. As soon as they've discovered us, word of mouth should do the trick."

"You'd be surprised how many online sellers claim to offer the real deal, only to disappoint those in need," Peter replied. "For that reason it'll probably take some time for your business to take off and I don't want you to stress yourself out because your products aren't selling well immediately. We've got the Argent money to acquire the things you need without you having to pay anything back."

"But I want it to be our baby," Stiles insisted. "I want to build it up myself, and finance it, and care for it. So, we'll need a loan, especially for the drawing and image processing stuff Isaac will need for his artwork, and I don't mind borrowing from you, but I really need to pay you back sooner or later. Okay?"

Peter sighed long-sufferingly. "Fine. Write up a business plan, if you must, and let me see it once your exams are over. I won't discuss this any further before then; your summer holidays will be here soon enough and like it or not, but you'll still need at least some sort of rest before you dive headfirst into this venture."

"Can I write a list of the things I'll need?" Isaac asked. He topped his waffles with an indecent amount of bacon and doused the whole thing with maple sirup. "I've already decided on a specific light-table and scanner, and I'll need a better computer, too. More traditional painting supplies wouldn't hurt, either."

"Since I told you that you'd get some of those things anyway, I'll help with that," Peter said. "If you also use them for work, that's one less expense you'll have to worry about right now. Going forward I'll explain tax write-offs to you if that crazy econ teacher hasn't done so already."

"Finstock may be crazy, but he knows his stuff," Isaac said with a grin.

"We rather need to figure out what to pay Derek," Stiles added, "because I'm pants at estimating value and shit. But he got beat up pretty badly on the regular this past half year and he probably knows best what regular supernaturals really want and need."

"You could pay me on a consulting basis," Derek offered. "Just pay me by the hour and call it good."

"If you're good with that, sure," Stiles said gratefully, mentally ticking off that point on his to-do list. "Peter, will you figure something out for Isaac? I've no idea what would be better, paying for the individual artwork or letting him have a cut of the profit."

"Certainly," Peter agreed. "After your exams I'll have the contracts drawn up and ready for your approval. A word of warning, Stiles: you'll need your father's permission if you want to start the shop under your own power. If you're comfortable with Derek or I stepping in until you're of age, we can do that, too."

"Whatever's easier," Stiles said. "I trust you to turn it over to me when the time comes, so if my dad's not enthusiastic, it won't stop us."

"You should also figure out a solid secret identity," Derek said. "There's no way we want someone stalking you or worse, once your work becomes known in the community." He frowned. "And we need to figure out how to best mail the orders so we won't give away our location."

"All very good points," Peter agreed. "Seems like Stiles will have a full time position for you, after all. With his assent, I'd like to put you in charge of security, and, as it becomes pertinent, logistics. Our pack is very small, but at this point I'm not eager to add more bodies just for the sake of shoring up our numbers for cheap labour."

"Yep, quality before quantity," Stiles said and crunched on a strip of bacon. "I'm game if you are, Sourwolf, so what do you think?"

"I've got nothing better to do," Derek replied with a little shrug. "When do I start?"

Stiles considered his options. "Since we'll only really start work in June, let's say the first? We'll figure out a salary until then."

Everyone was content with that, although Isaac did remind Stiles that they'd need to buy a good, efficient printer at one point, if not a small printing press, if they didn't want to pay a third party good money for their services.

"I already have ideas for different types of paper, and how the colours work on each of them," Isaac finished his little speech. "I thought really cheap and grungy looking for the fast and dirty types of spells we sell, and good stock paper for bookmarks or other longer-lasting stuff like that. I could also do custom work for people who can afford it."

"Maybe you should start a journal with your ideas," Peter suggested. "You seem to have an abundance of them."

"And I want samples," Stiles said. "Plus, I want to offer bracelets and stuff so we'll need to find a good source for those. I need to be able to individualize them a little, and no cheap crap from who knows where. Those gotta be durable and non-toxic, what with the shenanigans you supernaturals get up to."

Peter picked up his eclair and pried it apart to get to the cream in the middle. "That'll all be in Derek's domain, the way I see it," he said, "and I'm sure he'll be able to find just what you're looking for." With gusto he dipped a finger into the sweet mess and licked it clean. "Hmm, Marsha never fails to deliver."

"I know, right?" Stiles swiped the chocolate-y but nearly cream free top half of the eclair from Peter's plate and took a big bite. It gave him a not so little thrill that Peter was allowing it. "Strawberry season will start soon and she told me that she'll go all out this year. There'll be strawberry danishes, crepes with homemade strawberry jam filling, cakes, cupcakes with strawberry everything, cookies with bits of freeze-dried strawberry in them, strawberry compote for diy bakers ..."

"You think I could invest some of my pocket money in the bakery?" Isaac asked with a longing groan. "Make her pay out my dividends in baked goods?"

"You can always ask," Peter said. "She might even agree, she's part brownie after all."

"She's what now?" Stiles asked, flabbergasted. "Really?"

"Really." Peter smirked. "But only a small part, which is probably why your new magic spidey sense didn't pick up on it yet. She enjoys the labour, but she also quite enjoys the money and the popularity. She definitely isn't a threat, unless you're afraid for the state of your waistline."

Stiles goggled at him some more and then shook his head to snap himself out of it. "Anyway, back to Isaac's ideas. Dude, why have you thought so much about it when I haven't?"

"Because art is my thing, not yours," Isaac replied easily. "Speaking of which, there's no reason not to combine art with climate protection, so how about ecologically produced, quickly degradable paper and organic ink for the really cheap stuff that gets thrown out after one use? We could use paper made of hemp, and I've even thought that we could put some seeds in it so flowers will grow after a while."

"Isaac …" Stiles stared at the other teen. "That's actually amazing and I'm so down for it." He turned to Peter. "This is me changing my mind, right here, right now. I still want to pay back your loan, but we might need a lot more money than I thought. If Isaac's got a plan for branding and stuff, we should do it right."

Isaac glowed quietly from the praise and ducked his head shyly.

"I'm on board," Peter said easily. "What else do you have in mind to make your products as eco-friendly and sustainable as possible? I'm not going to lie, a lot of potential customers could be sprites, and they take things like that very seriously. Humans taking care of the Earth would win you quite a bit of goodwill. You did very well by thinking of it, Isaac."

The boy flushed with pleasure, his wide smile illuminating his face. "Thank you. I researched a little and found this hemp plantation in SoCal that's making the refuse of their medicinal hemp plants into paper to maximize their output and minimize waste. They're only starting out so we might get a really good deal. I could also ask whether they plan on offering paper enriched with wildflower seeds, or maybe common vegetables."

A thousand possibilities exploded right in front of Stiles' mind's eye and he snapped his fingers for a pen and something to write on. As if gripped by the same current of slightly manic energy, Isaac jumped up to get his writing utensils, and a minute later both boys were huddling over their writing pad and volleying ideas back and forth in frantic mutters.

"Well," Peter mused, "looks like the Argents will have to wait another day to relieve their conscience." He smiled toothily. "What do you think, nephew? Do we give them more coffee, or do we cut them off now and hope to get the signing of the contract over with tonight?"

Derek answered by heading to the coffee maker and preparing two double shot lattes with also double the usual amount of syrup.

End of chapter 41