Disclaimer: Derek and Stiles sadly do not belong to me. Nor does Teen Wolf. Weh.
Warnings: Not canon-complacent, angst, humor, crossdressing, fabulous drag queen OCs, pining, courting, mating, D/s, knotting, rimming, licking, cum eating, animalistic/feral/possessive behaviors, PackMom!Stiles, PackDaddy!Derek, puppy piles, affectionate poly!pack, pet names, Daddy kink, Twilight references, potential OOC
Stiles hurries over and hugs his dad tightly. "Dad. What happened?"
Derek hovers nearby, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed in concern.
In a halting voice, John proceeds to tell them both about how he and Chris had proposed to each other in front of Peter, thinking he'd be delighted for them.
Instead, all Peter had done was laugh sardonically and say, "What am I, chopped liver?"
They'd been confused; since Peter got to claim them both the way of the wolf, and they him, why couldn't they claim each other in the old traditional human way? Chris had said as much.
It turns out that while Chris and John could legally marry now in the state of California, in the eyes of the government, Peter Hale was very much legally dead. So while John and Chris could go out and about as a happily married couple in public, Peter could not do the same with either of them, for humans will never know about the hidden bite marks just under the men's shirt collars and wouldn't understand the meaning behind them even if they just so happen to see them; and while gay marriage is on the rise, in the eyes of society, things likes triads and multi-partner relationships were still taboo. Peter had said as much.
Things escalated from there between the two, the hunter and the wolf facing off on opposite sides once more, and John hadn't known what to do. He'd stood off to the side, paralyzed with growing helplessness as his lovers started going at it, screaming at each other with cutting words like 'selfish' and 'thoughtless' thrown around from both sides, the two dredging up their past that John hadn't been apart of and throwing it in each other's faces until Chris opened his mouth again and called Peter a 'greedy, manipulative, loveless beast,' something Gerard had once labeled him as.
"I don't know what I was thinking when I agreed to be your mate this time around. I wish I could take it back. You've haven't changed at all," Chris had spat out.
Peter had reeled back as if physically struck, any witty snappy retort he might have had dying on his tongue as trembling lips pressed firmly against each other in a tight line. Wet wolf blue eyes flashed with an unfathomable amount of hurt and betrayal and looked to John briefly before Peter pivoted on his heel and ran out of the house.
It took all of three seconds before Chris realized what he'd just done. He swore violently and took off after their wolf, sending John a look of panicked fear, regret and worry over his shoulder that had probably matched the Sheriff's own face just before he disappeared out the door, leaving John standing there alone in the living room.
The mood is sobering when the rest of the pack comes trickling into the house, something the pups can feel immediately.
Derek explains what had transpired during their absence, and afterward Stiles starts to lead his heartbroken father up to bed, but not before the pups all hug and cuddle into the older man, all of them hoping that Peter comes home soon.
The Sheriff smiles but it doesn't reach his sad eyes, petting them each on the head before Stiles gently tugs him up the stairs.
They watch the Stilinskis slowly make their way up and Isaac whimpers, curling around Jackson as the omega wraps an arm around his waist and Danny rubs his back; he doesn't like it when there's a feud within the pack, being the most emotionally sensitive one. Boyd is holding an upset but quiet Erica to his chest; Scott is speechless, and Lydia is hugging her best friend who is hurting for her father and his lovers.
It isn't until hours later Chris that comes back home, distraught and frustrated with himself, and the pups all jump up and hurry over to hug and cuddle him too, before Derek clasps a hand on his shoulder in comfort and also sends him to bed, stating that John probably needs him right now.
"He'll come back. He just needs time," the Alpha says, calm hazel eyes looking into tired, guilty blue.
Chris just nods and lets his daughter help him up to his room.
A little while passes before both Stiles and Allison come back downstairs, satisfied to know that their parents are home safe and sound, but concerned for them all the same.
Derek pulls them into his arms and the rest of the pack quickly surrounds them, exuding safety and comfort through their pack bond as multiple arms come around to hold them all together.
"Puppy pile tonight?" Stiles asks, voice small.
"Puppy pile tonight," Derek confirms and ushers them all to get changed into something comfy and meet on the cushion.
In no time they all settle down in a tangle of bodies and limbs, but no one really sleeps, not when one of their own is out there all by himself, capable werewolf or not.
In the distance, a long mournful howl rings loud and clear through the stillness of the night and Derek's eyes flash red as the pups whimper and Stiles snuggles closer to him, one hand fisted in the soft fabric of Derek's shirt above his heart.
Some Valentine's Day.
Days drag on and there's still no sign of Peter.
The pack's been taking up patrolling the preserve in hopes of finding him and bringing him home, but no dice.
Puppy piles have been mandatory since the first night the older beta went missing, but no one's complaining. With one pack member gone, the pups have been wanting close contact with one another and everyone else ever since, more so than usual. Stiles couldn't go anywhere without at least one other person within touching distance.
After the first week, a thought enters his father's head.
"Maybe he hasn't come home because we're here?" the Sheriff says out loud one Saturday night, and everyone pauses what they're doing.
Chris looks up from pouring over his maps of the preserve, and mulls it over for a moment before sighing. "It would make sense," he agrees reluctantly, "he wouldn't want to come back to what he considers his den if he feels that the, uh, 'threat' is still around." He coughs a bit and clears his throat, and Stiles doesn't need any werewolf senses to pick up on the fact that Chris still thinks that he is at fault for all of this.
John's shoulders slump down a little, before they straighten up again and he nods decisively. "Back to casa de Stilinski it is then."
"Dad, do you think that's really necessary?" Stiles asks, sitting up from his place next to Derek, the Alpha's arm a soothing anchor around his back.
John nods again, "If there's a chance that Peter will come home, it's one we're gonna have to take, even if we're not here for when he returns. We gotta do this on his terms." He shares a look with Chris. "It's the least we can do, after all."
"I don't like this," says Stiles as he crosses his arms over his chest, watching the cruiser pull out of the driveway from the window. Derek comes up behind him and embraces him around his middle, kissing his neck before resting his chin on his shoulder. Stiles couldn't help but wriggle back into him, wanting comfort.
"I know you don't. I don't either, but Peter will come home when he's ready."
Stiles turns in his mate's arms and buries his face into Derek's neck to hide his pout. "Just sucks, is all."
"I know," the wolf croons, running a big warm hand up and down his back.
The sudden sound of the doorbell ringing breaks them apart, and they share a look before Derek goes to answer the door.
Stiles hears the door swing open, and then, "Uncle?!"
At that he rushes after Derek, skidding to a halt in the foyer as he hears the pups come running up behind him, just in time to see a thin, battered Peter smirk weakly and answer, "Nephew," before collapsing into Derek's arms.
When Peter regains consciousness he's been cleaned up, his wounds having been bandaged, and finds himself tucked under 200+ pounds of overprotective fangs and fur in the living room on the puppy pile cushion.
Derek lifts his giant head from where he was resting to look down his muzzle at him, Alpha red eyes boring into cold beta blue. The stare down ends when Derek whines and laps at his face with a long pink tongue, making him sputter.
"Oh, for the love of - no, stop it. Cut that out," he grumbles and pushes at Derek's snout weakly before giving up and sighing, resigned to being licked and scent marked by his Alpha nephew when Derek wouldn't let up.
"He was really worried about you, ya know," a voice speaks from a short distance, before he sees Stiles's face hover over them upside-down. "We all were." As if on cue, the pups all stick their heads out from the kitchen before spilling out into the living room, heading straight for him.
They all find their preferred spots; Isaac and Jackson right up against Peter's body under their Alpha, followed by Erica and Boyd, then Danny and Scott, then Allison, and then finally Lydia, who likes to perch above them near their heads.
"And really, your timing was incredible," Stiles goes on, "Right when they left. Really?"
Surrounded by his pack, Peter mutters something unintelligible before burrowing his face into Derek's broad furry chest, ignoring the two blonds clinging to him for the time being.
The Alpha whines again from above and snuffles at him anxiously. He wasn't done scent marking yet!
Derek turn accusing red eyes at his mate for this turn of events and huffs.
It's Stiles's turn to sigh. He scratches the back of his neck, making apologetic puppy eyes at his wolf until the Alpha finally relents and leans up to lick his face, too. He indulges in some ear scritches before getting back to the matter at hand.
He switches gears. "Peter. C'mon now, don't be like that. I made your favorite~" He lifts up the hot plate of food he'd been holding, and wiggles it a little in his hands in hopes of enticing Peter out from under Derek's bulk.
A blue eye peeks out from its soft hiding place. "...Fillet mignon?" Peter asks suspiciously after a moment.
"Uh huh. Medium-rare with steamed asparagus drizzled in melted butter and fluffy mashed potatoes on the side with chives. Just the way you like it~" Stiles waggles his eyebrows.
A second later and Peter's empty stomach lets out an impressive gurgle, making him grunt in annoyance at being played so easily and betrayed by his own body, before he's struggling to sit up.
Derek helpfully manhandles him until he's leaning back against his nephew like the Alpha's some huge furry recliner, the pups all re-orienting themselves to accommodate the change.
When they've settled, Stiles hands over the plate before leaving briefly to fetch napkins and utensils, as well as a portable, fold-able table to properly eat on and something for Peter to drink.
"...Thank you," Peter says reluctantly before taking the first bite. He hadn't realized how hungry he is until just then, and digs into the rest of his meal with relish, savoring the flavors.
After he's finished eating, the pups all pile onto him and Peter again resigns himself to being cuddled to death, petting their hair to ease their whimpers and letting them scent him as well.
"Missed you," Isaac mumbles quietly into his shoulder. Jackson hums in agreement, snuggling into his bicep.
"You smelt like magic when you came home," Scott pipes up on his chest, big brown eyes still filled with worry.
"What happened?" asks Lydia, aiming for nonchalant and missing by an inch as she runs her fingers through his hair, her nails gently massaging his scalp.
Peter frowns, thinking. "I...don't remember."
"You don't remember?" Stiles repeats, his voice not patronizing or sarcastic, but curious.
"All I can recall is running out of the house and living off the land for a while. The rest is a blank, before I remember pain and running home to find pack and Alpha because I felt like I was being hunted."
"Hunted?" Allison echos nervously.
"Shit, just when you think the coast is clear..." Stiles curses before he takes a breath. "Well, we'll worry about that when the time comes. For now, we'll just worry about you." He points a finger at Peter menacingly then, the other resting on his hip, "You, mister, are on pack watch until further notice."
Ignoring Peter's sputtered protests which were quickly stifled by whimpering pups being clingy, he turns to go to his study.
He has some phone calls to make and some researching to do.
(But not before he doubles back to reassure his mate with kisses and more ear scritches when Derek makes a low noise after him, the Alpha not understanding why his mate wasn't in the pile with the rest of their pack where he's supposed to be.)
Peter spends the next few days just sitting in the living room, staring listlessly off into the distance as his mind wanders without a goal.
He refuses to go into his room for anything, every single thing within the space carrying the scent of John and Chris and them, and just the thought of them hurts too much, let alone their scent, so he sends one of the pups up there if he ever needs anything inside.
According to his pack, Peter is acting much too un-Peter-like. No smarmy smirks, no snark, no nothing. They don't seem to like it much, which vaguely surprises Peter since he had thought he wasn't really anyone's favorite.
Speaking of, Stiles keeps making him his favorite foods during meals in order to try and make him feel better, from duck confit to peanut butter banana fritters to black forest cake. It works, if only for a short while.
Having had enough of his moping (as they call it – he wasn't moping, he wasn't), today the girls have taken it upon themselves to groom and pamper him a little since he hasn't felt like doing it himself, letting his usually impeccable appearance grow unkempt during his impromptu commune with nature.
Sitting him down in the bathroom, Erica hunkers down and gives him a man's version of a mani-pedi while Allison is busy carefully shaving his face with a steady hand, leaving Lydia to take care of his hair.
She gives him a haircut and styles it to suit her whims, her movements sharp and precise, and peers into the mirror to look at him when they all finish up. "Well?"
Peter lifts a corner of his mouth at his reflection, though the smile doesn't reach his eyes, "Thank you."
"You're welcome."
They each give him a kiss on the cheek then usher him out of the bathroom to the boys, who each try a hand at distracting him from thinking too deeply for the remainder of the day, before they all tumble back onto the cushion for their nightly puppy pile after another lovely dinner made by Stiles.
Peter sighs and hugs Danny closer to his chest, the goalie more than happy to play the part of his overgrown living teddy bear for the night if the nuzzle to the collarbone and squeeze around his middle is anything to go by.
He buries his face in the pup's black hair and closes his eyes, listening to the heartbeats of his pack and letting their steady rhythm ease his mind into the blankness of sleep.
The older wolf is going to take in the comfort he's being given now, because he has a niggling feeling tomorrow he's going to need all the rest and relaxation he can get.
The next day when Peter wakes up, his teddy bear had turned blond while he was sleeping. Jackson blinks up at him sleepily before biting him lightly on the chin and burrowing deeper into his embrace to doze some more.
It forces a chuckle out of him and he presses his lips to the pup's forehead, closing his eyes as well to just soak in the peaceful moment.
He slips in and out of sleep after that, one moment he's simply cuddling a pretty omega, the next, Isaac had come and draped himself over his back while Lydia appeared by his head to play with his shorter hair when he resurfaces again.
Looking back on it, he's going to cite Lydia's tantalizing head massage as the source of his distraction in that moment, because he didn't hear a familiar car pull up into the driveway nor Stiles opening the front door.
"Peter? Honey?" John's soft voice calls to him from behind and everything in Peter freezes.
He closes his eyes, hardly daring to breathe.