Sometimes things don't go according to plan, but what the heck. YOLO and all that rot.

Chapter 44

Having Derek around from Saturday to Sunday was astoundingly normal, which was creeping Stiles out a little. Derek wasn't disturbing any routines, and it didn't feel weird when he went through the fridge to satisfy the black hole that was his stomach, or searched Stiles' clothes for something old he could wear while cleaning up the garden and mowing the lawn. Stiles wasn't even angry when Derek took the jeep to the mall without notifying him, and that had never sat well with him.

Don't fret, Peter texted in response to Stiles' freak-out late at night, which was the first time he'd even noticed how present Derek suddenly was. You wholly accepted him as part of your family, your pack. It's your imperative to provide for him now. Derek being in your space is expected, magically speaking. In fact, his being away unexpectedly would make you uneasy now, which is utterly normal behaviour for a werecreature.

You think my magic is really mimicking werewolf behaviour to such a degree?, Stiles asked, biting his lip. He didn't know whether to feel alarmed or elated. Right now it was a nerve-wracking mix of both.

Yes, absolutely. You're a human alpha now, with all that it entails. Your magic more or less flipped a switch in your mind to make the building of your pack possible. Because you were human, with human societal norms firmly established in your mind, you noticed, but I assume that such conundrums won't bother you much in the future.

Stiles mulled this over and glanced at Derek, who slept sprawled all over his bed like the giant bed hog he was. At least he wore boxers and a T-shirt, which had kept the sheriff from raising the Parental Eyebrow Of Doom at them.

Doesn't feel like it right now, Stiles admitted. My mind's sort of spinning, now that it realized that something's going on.

Let it, Peter advised. Just go to sleep and allow your subconscious to align those two concepts. It might take a while, but eventually you'll adapt to your new circumstances.

There was a pause, and then another message from Peter appeared.

I hope you don't regret bonding with my nephew?

This, Stiles had no trouble denying. No, of course not. I'm just freaking out about how much I'm not freaking out. Maybe I'm also freaking out because my dad's quietly freaking out, which, understandable. I'm just glad he hasn't shot anyone, yet.

Me too, Peter replied. I'm still very glad he's in the know, now. I can't regret taking that step.

No, in the end you were right about us - me - needing him. I just wish I could make him, I dunno, understand things like we do, Stiles confessed. He's trying really hard but it still feels like I'm leaving him behind, and I HATE that. I wish I could just … take him with us.

Unless he chooses to shed his humanity, there isn't much we can do about that, sweetheart, Peter wrote. There are ways to share thoughts and impressions, but none of us are in any way able to attempt even one of them. Maybe you can one day, with more experience and confidence in your abilities, but while your father is human, my method is out of the question as it would kill him.

I'll look into it, Stiles typed back. Not right now, but when I've got a teacher. That'd be okay, right? I wouldn't unwittingly tell my dad some big ass secret that'd get us killed or something? I mean, I don't know how transferring thoughts and stuff really works! I don't wanna fry his brain with all the useless facts I'm amassing to keep MY brain quiet.

You could overload him, which is why you really need to train for this sort of thing. As to the unwitting reveal of secrets, he's your father, Peter answered succinctly, the gentle admonishment sort of drifting off the words and causing Stiles to flush uncomfortably with shame. As far as I'm concerned, he's pack, and therefore privy to everything that's going on. It doesn't matter that he's human.

That's comforting, Stiles admitted after he'd collected himself. Sorry for being all insecure and shit.

I'd be concerned if you were not, Peter told him starkly. It hasn't been six months since you discovered the supernatural, and your introduction has been traumatic, to say the least. You have come very far since then, but you're still only scratching at the surface. Give yourself time to progress, not just your new relationship with Derek, but all of it. I don't think you really had the time to deal with it.

I've forgiven you for the shitty introduction the moment I learned what the Argents had done, Stiles typed a little petulantly. Processing stuff is what I DO.

The phone vibrated then, and Stiles accepted the call with a sigh.

"Rationalizing something and emotionally processing it are two very different things," Peter said dryly. "You're very good at the first, but I'm not so sure about the latter."

"Do you want me to bash your head in while you sleep?" Stiles asked, just as dryly. At Peter's amused little snort, he sighed. "I know that I've got a dozen metric tons of things to work through, okay, and I'm on it. It's just that I really don't have all that much to emotionally process when it comes to you, or the pack. Seriously. I'm far more pissed at Scott and the Argents, and I'm perfectly fine holding onto that grudge 'til the end of time."

"Promise me that you'll take some time to really think about the things you have been through since meeting my family," Peter said calmly. "You needn't worry that getting angry at me will change my desire to have you in my pack."

"How could it not," Stiles demanded. "You've been doing really well for a while now. It'd be, I dunno, unfair to get angry at you now for things you couldn't really help."

"Life is hardly fair," Peter reminded him, "and I will atone for some of my mistakes for the rest of my life. Letting you justifiedly vent your spleen would be a welcome change, and if it helps you enter our union without lingering resentment, all the better."

"Well, it won't help me do that," Stiles said peevishly. "I'll put the blame where it belongs, I don't need you to be the Argents' scapegoat. Not even for biting Scott. How often do I need to tell you this?"

"Turning The Failure will forever remain my greatest regret," Peter murmured. "Not only because I chose so badly, but because he caused you so much grief over it."

"It still hurts like a bitch," Stiles admitted, "but I found other great friends I probably wouldn't have met without that happening, so it's not all bad. In a horrible way you've actually done me a favour that night, so why don't we go with that and call it good?"

"Hmmm, doing you favours is one of my primary goals," Peter murmured after some consideration. "I can accept this if you can."

"Believe me, I can," Stiles snarked. "Why is it so hard for you to believe that I'm actually a fairly optimistic guy?"

"Because it is a constant source of wonder," Peter shot back. "Finding such optimism amidst a veritable maelstrom of teenage insecurity and flailing panic is ... disorienting."

"Fuck you," Stiles huffed.

"I'd rather not," Peter replied wickedly. "It does get boring after a while without a partner."

Rendered mute with horror, Stiles promptly ended the call and breathed into the sleeve of his hoodie so he wouldn't wake Derek with his outraged cursing. Or his very inappropriate boner.

Peter would be the death of him!

oOo

On Sunday morning, Stiles took over the kitchen while Derek put the finishing touches on the garden. The werewolf was listening to music on his phone, a clear sign that he wanted some time to himself, but otherwise he gave off content vibes. If he'd heard Stiles' short conversation with Peter, Derek gave no indication that he was disturbed by it, which suited Stiles just fine. He was still horrified enough for two at the turns the majority of their talks seemed to take lately.

Around twelve the doorbell rang. It was far too early for guests so Stiles was honestly surprised to discover Erica and her parents waiting on the porch. Reflexively he looked around for Boyd.

"He's coming later," Erica said with a grimace before Stiles got around to actually asking. "We were just so excited, so we decided to come early and help."

Stiles looked from her to her parents. "Uh, great! Welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Reyes. Excuse the mess, Derek and I are in the middle of sorting things to take into the garden." He shook both their hands, showed them in, and gave Erica a brief hug afterwards. "Er, does anyone want something to drink?"

"Just water, please," Mrs. Reyes said. She looked around with undisguised curiosity. "What can we help with?"

Stiles directed them to the living room, where he'd already put the dishes, glasses, and cutlery for the gathering.

"I'm so sorry!" Erica whispered as soon as her parents had gone outside with the first load. "I tried to stop them, but they insisted. It's a curse."

"Nah, you said it, they're just really excited for you. I don't mind them," Stiles said soothingly. "I'm just afraid that they'll be bored out of their minds in no time flat. There wasn't much left to do."

"Are you kidding me? My dad will probably check over the chairs to make sure they won't collapse with some old little lady in it, and my mom will insist on helping in the kitchen, if she doesn't start bleaching the bathrooms first. They're the worst." Erica flushed and then whined, "Can you call Isaac and ask him to come over sooner? And Peter? My parents would have so many questions, it'd keep them busy for at least an hour."

"You're cruel," Stiles hissed back, putting on a smile for Erica's parents.

"One more and that's the tableware done," Erica's dad announced proudly. While his wife was petite and blond, he'd passed his wavy hair and slight latino appearance on to his daughter. "After that, Erica's mom wants to tackle the spiderwebs in the corners. You know how she loves that, Muppet, so don't frown. I hope you don't mind, Stiles? We can get the broom no problem from the cupboard."

Put on the spot like that Stiles stammered, "No, no, that's fine, whatever you want."

"Fantastic! You won't even notice us," Mr. Reyes gushed.

Then they were gone again and Stiles muttered, "I'll make sure Isaac comes over ASAP."

Erica put her face in her hands and groaned.

oOo

"You've got to be kidding me," Isaac said flatly upon entering the house. In the ten minutes since Stiles' distress call Erica's parents had not only tackled the few spiderwebs in the far corners of the public areas in the house, they'd also taken it upon themselves to vacuum and shine the floorboards. "You didn't tell us your parental units were both obsessive cleaners."

"I try to pretend they aren't, usually. At least they channelled their disorder into a thriving business. It's what allows them to pay for my treatment, actually," Erica said with yet another grimace. "They just can't stop when they've got downtime. Really, I'm so sorry about this, Stiles. Your house isn't dirty or anything."

"I won't look a gift horse in the mouth," Stiles replied, fascinated at the skill the petite Mrs. Reyes displayed with the heavy vacuum. "As long as they won't send a bill I'm good."

Erica elbowed him. "You're supposed to put a stop to my embarrassment, not exploit my parents."

"Right." Stiles looked helplessly at Isaac. "Any ideas?"

The werewolf crossed his arms in front of his chest. "No. And I refuse to throw myself at them so they can interrogate the heck out of me."

"Where the heck is Peter? I thought he'd come with you," Stiles complained. "This is an adult sort of situation."

"He dropped me off and went to get the alcohol everyone will undoubtedly need later," Isaac informed him drolly. "I take it that Derek's completely useless?"

"He allowed Erica's dad to scrub the grill when he's done with the hall floor, so no, he's not helping," Stiles sighed. "At least the noise will wake my dad up, if it hasn't already."

Isaac snorted. "Forget it, he's still conked out."

"Goddammit." Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. "Is there anything we can do that doesn't involve heavy guilt trips or the use of handcuffs?"

Both his friends shook their heads so Stiles texted Boyd as a last ditch effort and then decided to fuck it, he'd get the old timer cavallerie over here pronto.

"Watch the kitchen for me," Stiles ordered and loped out of the house and across the street to Mrs. Miller's house. It'd have been entertaining how the old lady was already waiting at the open door, but right then all Stiles could feel was relief.

A quarter hour later, Stiles led not one but four octogenarian guests into his house and set them on Erica's parents without a single shred of remorse.

oOo

"I must say that your problem solving skills are unorthodox," Peter confided as he surveyed the assembled group of animatedly talking people in the Stilinskis' garden.

While Derek and his tragic circumstances had engendered exactly the reaction the pack had hoped for, his quietness had soon allowed him to retreat behind the grill, where the coals were heating up. Right now a discussion was raging on the use of vinegar and old-fashioned gall soap versus modern chemicals for cleaning, and Erica's parents were having to work to stand their ground.

In his hand Peter held a beer and there was an entertained smirk on his face. "You won't hold it against me when I laugh about it later, surely."

"Knock yourself out, you jerk," Stiles groused. "Erica should've warned me! She just told us that her parents are sort of overprotective. How the heck do you manage people who genuinely enjoy cleaning, but also do it when they're nervous or stressed? I mean, they were coming to meet me!" He flailed a little, sloshing his raspberry bionade from his bottle. "That's not a reason to be nervous!"

Peter nudged Stiles' shoulder with his. "From their perspective it might well be. You've saved their daughter from bullies and included her practically overnight into your little group of friends. From what you've told me, and what I've seen so far, your friendship has allowed the girl to blossom into the pretty young thing she now is. She's even having a boyfriend now, which I'm sure her parents hadn't really dared hoped for before. If I were in their shoes, I'd question my good fortune, too."

"It's so weird when people do that," Stiles muttered, embarrassed. He tried to fight it, but then he leaned a little against Peter's sturdy frame defiantly.

"Do what?" Peter asked mildly.

Stiles pulled a face at having to spell it out. "View me as something other than an annoying spazz."

Sipping his beer idly, Peter replied, "I'd never discount the pain that must've caused you over the years, but I can't help but feel grateful that people did overlook you for the most part." He looked intently at Stiles then. "They might not have gone as far as considering you trash, but you're most definitely a treasure to me, and I'm glad that I got the chance to find you."

"Your sweet talk will turn my head." Stiles fought against the flush creeping into his cheeks.

It only became worse when Peter leaned in a little closer himself, inhaling knowingly and then smirking invitingly at him. "Would that be such a bad thing, sweetheart?"

The flush was really heating Stiles' face now. "Cut it out if you don't mean it, Creeper Wolf."

"I rarely say or do things I don't mean," Peter purred. His light eyes took on a reddish sheen and his voice dropped even further. "And I'm very bad at resisting temptation. You make it far too easy, Stiles."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "I do not."

"You really do, and I really shouldn't enjoy making you squirm so much," Peter admitted with a sigh. He frowned a little while looking at his nephew. "Even more so since I have, in fact, experienced hell, as Derek so kindly informs me, and I've no desire to return there." His face became curiously devoid of emotion. "Excuse me."

Stiles stared as the man left abruptly for the refreshment table, only to jump when his father suddenly put an arm around his shoulders. From around the grill, Derek and Isaac were unabashedly looking on and, of course, listening in.

"Do you believe me now that there might be cause for concern when it comes to Peter Hale?" the sheriff asked mildly, taking a drink from his lemonade. When Stiles futilely opened and closed his mouth to provide an answer, he added, "It's good that he has no desire to revisit hell, because I'd hate to send him there after I've just warmed up to him."

Stiles sucked in a deep, shocked breath and looked up beseechingly. "Dad …"

"I don't have much left to say, except be careful, kiddo." John patted him gently. "With the both of you. I don't think he truly realized what he was doing either until just now. It's a tough pill to swallow for a grown guy, so don't make it harder on him than it has to be."

With that he ambled off to greet their guests. At this point, only Boyd and his grandma were missing; Mrs. Miller's personal invitation had encouraged the three other old ladies in the street to quit their spying and invite themselves along and they were all eager to have the ear of the sheriff. Stiles would've been appalled at their presumption, but the old timers honestly brought the best gifts, a juicy, fragrant strawberry rhubarb pie among them. Right now that pie might well be the only thing keeping him on an even keel.

Isaac trotted up to Stiles and prodded him back into the house, where they had at least the illusion of privacy. Erica was looking on in concern, but also with an almost feline look of speculation on her face. At Stiles' helpless look she raised both eyebrows, a clear demand to spill the beans later.

"Is everything alright?" the werewolf asked bluntly after closing the door.

Stiles shook his head, still speechless. Almost mindlessly he followed Isaac through the house.

"Oh boy." Isaac dropped onto the couch in the living room. "Do we need to talk about it?"

"No," Stiles croaked. He cleared his throat and looked helplessly at his friend. "Maybe. Just … really?"

"That you are even surprised is an abomination," Isaac said with an eye roll. "Get over here, I need to hug the stupid out of you."

"'m not stupid," Stiles complained, but he went and slumped against Isaac's side. It felt good to just burrow there and be cuddled … grounded. "Just ... is Peter really … interested? He's not just having me on for his amusement?"

Isaac scrunched up his nose. "Don't make me talk about it. He's my alpha, for fuck's sake. Also, you so are dumber than a sack of rocks, you moron."

Stunned, Stiles let himself be held. For a while he literally went under, to that dark place inside his mind where he found shelter when there was just too much to process all at once. He vaguely noted Isaac taking out his phone to mess around, and once he thought his dad came by to pat him on the head and bring him another soda.

Derek's appearance with a plate of steak and sausages was what caused Stiles' brain to finally reboot and before Stiles could really think about it he blurted out, "Don't let me pull an Erica, because I think I really want to."

Isaac's answer to that was a gusty sigh, and Derek just curled a hand around Stiles' shoulder and squeezed comfortingly.

End of chapter 44