This is a long one, but I couldn't find a good place to end it sooner so I guess you'll just have to slog through. I hope certain parts of it will make up for it, though.

Have fun and stay safe!


Chapter 64

Stiles sent Peter the video of his bonding with the lizard man first, right after he woke up the next morning, and spent the minutes after that chewing on his nails and calling himself all kinds of stupid.

Half an hour later, Peter entered his room via the time-honoured route through the window, the sheriff's orders be damned, and placed himself right in front of the pacing teen.

"You are absolutely amazing," Peter told Stiles without so much as a good morning in a low, rumbling voice. His eyes glowed like mystical rubies in the mild morning sunlight and he exuded an air of violent attraction that was nearly impossible for Stiles to parse.

Chemosignals, it turned out, were complicated.

Alpha so proud, Lou whimpered in delight. So happy with us.

He nearly flooded Stiles' consciousness with his effusions of pleasure and Stiles found himself almost involuntarily reacting in a very physical way.

He blushed hotly and averted his own hot, red gaze from Peter's face in mortification.

"Oh sweetheart," Peter purred, "none of that now." He took both of Stiles' lax and slightly sweaty hands in his and raised them to his lips.

Stiles' mouth dropped open as Peter placed a long kiss to the knuckles of each of them, all the while staring at Stiles in undisguised and slightly predatory desire.

"Wha … why?" Stiles stammered. The feel of Peter's warm, soft lips and stubble on the back of his hands was sending his overwhelmed mind into spasms of incredulity - and it didn't help him calm down either. At all. "I did something stupid. Again. Didn't I?"

"You," Peter murmured, eyes blazing, "attracted a kanima to our pack. Instead of subjugating it like a master is meant to do, you invited it to join the pack and it accepted."

"I, uh, I guess I did, but a what is he now? A kanima?" Stiles asked. The heat was wandering from his face down to his chest and arms and the mountain ash on him was crawling over his hands to Peter, entrapping the werewolf in its needy grip. "And what about this master stuff?"

"I'll explain it in depth tonight when the whole pack is present," Peter said. "For now it's enough to know that kanimas are magnificent and terrifying fighters; stealthy, odourless, and equipped with a powerful natural paralytic that they use on their quarry before tearing them apart. They're absolutely deadly, and normally they do not join with someone like this one did with you. Kanimas are wired to accept a master and do their bidding unquestionably."

The happy, floaty feeling in Stiles soured a little. "I knew that he was dangerous, Lou told me, but he could cross my wards when they're built to use lethal force against violent threats. I just knew he wouldn't harm me or my dad. Not that that will fly with him; he'll be furious when he sees the video."

"I don't think so, at least not for long," Peter replied, smiling sharply before placing another lingering kiss on Stiles' knuckles. He seemed not at all concerned about the mountain ash circling and covering his arms. "Because with your special brand of luck, you've not only managed to win the pack a most efficient fighter, you also managed to bind not one but two rather valuable members to us for the foreseeable future."

"One must be Lydia, because duh, banshee and organizer of the gods. But the other? Surely you don't mean Danny because you're right when you say that his skills are a dime a dozen for the right price. That only leaves ..." Stiles frowned, only to gasp in shock. "Oh my god. Jackson? Jackson is the Scalyboy? How? Yesterday he was still spewing black gunk!"

"Hmm, I do so love your quick mind," Peter said huskily, eyes nearly burning into Stiles'. "And I promise to satisfy it tonight."

I wish you would satisfy something else, Stiles thought, squirming. The teen was overwhelmed with another billow of Peter's unique and oh so appealing scent of beguiling warmth and approval, spiced up with ramped up hormones and a dash of giddy disbelief at his good fortune. Nearly insensible with echoed amazement he choked out, "How will we tell him?"

"We'll talk it out tonight with the pack and inform Jackson and Lydia when we've come to a decision," Peter hummed. "Mr Mahealani will keep for as long as we need him to."

They stood like this for a few more moments, breathing each other in and staring at each other with barely a blink obstructing the view. Stiles' wolf spark wouldn't let him look away again, not after Stiles' surprised embarrassment earlier, and his confidence both banked and fanned the glow of attraction between them.

Stiles thought he would combust from it; his brain nearly felt aflame with the overload of roaring feelings. It was such a surprise that Peter seemed just as caught up in it that Stiles could hardly breathe for it.

At last, however, the intensity between them lessened and altered into something more bearable. Peter let go of Stiles' hands and instead pulled the teen into a tight embrace and scented him for long minutes along the cheeks and both sides of his neck.

For his part, Stiles simply clung to Peter's unfairly broad and attractive shoulders and tried to commit this extraordinary moment to memory. Just for a minute, he imagined what it would be like to actually be held by this man, to have his stubbled chin rub against the soft skin of his neck as he nipped and licked his throat to create a love bite to end all love bites.

His little shiver brought about the end of their embrace, the mountain ash slowly returning from Peter's skin, and Stiles couldn't quite hide his disappointment.

Peter didn't say anything about it, just cupped Stiles' face with his warm palm and nearly brushed his lower lip with his thumb. "I'll text you a time for tonight. And if you want my advice: wait until after your breakfast to break the news to your father. He will be furious for a little while, but you needn't weather this storm on an empty stomach … or alone."

"I don't know, Derek might be even more furious," Stiles admitted, biting his lip worriedly. "He made me promise to be careful and I really wasn't."

"He might be angry initially, but you're his to protect, so he will. And contrary to your father he will immediately recognize what an enormous boon this will be to us. He is not one to disregard such things. His mother trained him too well for that."

"Your word in their ears, dude," Stiles sighed. He rubbed his face with a slightly shaky hand and grimaced. "Fucking hell. Jackson just had to be the extra-est dude to extra."

Peter smirked. "I'll leave you to your father's tender mercies now, but Derek will be over soon."

"Why can't you stay?" Stiles asked with a hopeful pout. "If Dad's gonna shoot someone, it might as well be you."

"Is that so?" Peter asked, amused and just a bit threatening.

Stiles huffed. "You at least won't die. Me? Not so much, not even with Lou's help and your nifty body armour shirts. At least I don't think so; my dad knows his stuff."

The werewolf's smirk widened. "Ruthless and honest. I adore that about you, darling. Unfortunately, I'm needed at David's office in town today to finalize the paperwork for my return to society. After that, I'm finally free to show my face wherever I want … and I will catch any bullets for you that need catching."

"My hero," Stiles grinned, relieved. "Alright then, I'll go make breakfast and face the music. See you tonight."

Peter's red eyes roved over Stiles' face and swept along his body before he replied, "Yes, you will."

Then he left and Stiles lost no time in barricading himself in the bathroom and relieving that unbearable tension Peter's closeness had caused.

oOo

Stiles knew that his father knew that Stiles had something to tell him that warranted pulling out all the stops for breakfast. Derek knew it, too, because he had brought a basket full of the things needed to pull out all the stops for breakfast.

That didn't keep the sheriff from enjoying his treat to the fullest; it was exceedingly rare that Stiles made him waffles and bacon and scrambled eggs, never mind topping that off with fresh guacamole, sirup, actually tasty low carb toast and that artisan salted butter both Stilinskis couldn't get enough of.

Too soon, however, the delicious food was gone and the tentative truce between Stiles and his dad ended.

"Well?" John asked after taking his last sip of gourmet coffee. "What calamity has befallen us now? And with us I mean you, because all of this," he indicated the empty dishes, "smacks of a Stiles-disaster."

"It's not so much a disaster as an … unexpected development," Stiles hedged. He held out his hand for the laptop Derek had already picked up from the sideboard. "Uhm, so, just for the record, we're all alive and nothing happened. So, yeah, here goes nothing."

He opened the laptop and started the clip from last night he'd isolated from the seven-hour-long surveillance video.

In stony silence, Stiles' father and Derek watched Stiles' one-sided conversation with the lizard man. As one, they groaned when Stiles and the lizard bonded - on the screen there was a sort of glow visible that was encompassing both the teen and his nightmarish new friend, but Stiles hadn't noticed it while it happened.

"That is a kanima," Derek stated flatly, eyes going from the laptop to Stiles. "A fucking kanima accepted a place in our pack."

"Uh, yeah?" Stiles twisted his fingers nervously. He glanced at his father who very clearly didn't know how to react to this news. "Are you on the brink of a heart attack, daddio? Do you need a doctor? Derek, what's his blood pressure?"

"I'm fine," John said, oddly calmly. He stared at Stiles. "But it won't stay that way if I don't get the whole story now. Because I won't believe for a second that Peter hasn't seen this video already. His lack of a freak-out leads me to believe that there is something important yet to come."

"You're good, sir," Derek said admiringly, though he still didn't uncross his tightly folded arms. To Stiles, he said, "Spill."

"Jackson is the kanima," Stiles blurted out, not even thinking about protesting the order. His dad looked gobsmacked at the revelation. Derek, not so much. "In retrospect, it's sort of obvious, really, what with his botched turning and all. But yeah, that was my face too when Peter told me."

"I'll be honest, most of the time I don't know what to do with all this," the sheriff admitted when he'd gotten his bearing. "Fucking hell. As if Jackson needed more weapons to bully people."

"Actually, right now Jackson is the furthest thing from a bully, sir," Derek said. He took a deep breath and unfolded his arms. "He has the claws and fangs, yes, but a kanima does not have any sort of autonomy. Their nature is such that they look for a master to bond with. Usually, it's a person with a strong desire to cause mayhem. The stronger the will to unleash violence, say on a revenge spree, the more a kanima will be attracted."

"But this one - Jackson - chose Stiles as his master." Stiles' father shook his head. "Not that my kid isn't stubborn, but as far as I know there's no revenge spree scheduled."

"Nope, I'm feeling relatively level-headed, excepting four dumbass alpha dudes, should they not leave town with their tails between their legs," Stiles promptly agreed.

"I don't know the reason," Derek admitted. "I've only heard what I've told you. This is strange, but maybe Peter will be able to find out what happened."

"No one is to tell Jackson or his parents anything for now," Stiles said. "The pack is meeting tonight to inform Mr Whittemore and discuss this, and only then will we figure out how to break it to Jackson. That shit will be hard on him no matter what, but we don't have to be assholes about it."

"Agreed," John murmured. He stood. "Well, I'm off. We got a new load of gang members to interrogate. Beacon Hills has turned into an unofficial interrogation centre for the tough cases. No one knows yet, but those guys are seriously contemplating building a holding facility two counties over because we're getting shit done here."

Stiles' mouth dropped open. "What?"

"That'd mean a regular FBI presence," Derek forced out, voice rough with shock. "You need to prevent that from happening, sir. Our anonymity depends on it."

"I would if I could, but my kid's voodoo works a little too well. The guys are already joking that it must be something in the water. The assistant director we're dealing with is nearly giddy with all the progress they're making on the Lobos Locos." The sheriff shrugged. "It'd be different if Stiles could kit out the facilities they already have, but I don't see how we could make that happen."

"Another thing for the to-do list," Stiles croaked. "And something that should probably be our new priority. Fuck. This is a nightmare."

"Quite," his father sighed. "But Stiles … that doesn't mean that what you did was bad. Not by a long shot. We're doing great work with your help. Already a lot of lives have been saved because of the information we were able to obtain."

The sheriff left then, but not without kissing Stiles' forehead first.

"He was too calm," Stiles said once they had heard the cruiser drive off.

"He was," Derek agreed. "Because he was relieved for the Whittemores. Jackson won't die from the bite, that alone is a reason to celebrate. Plus, he will be able to have an eye on Beacon Hills' newest supernatural addition through you. That makes everything easier to deal with."

"He really wasn't having a silent coronary or something?" Stiles asked in a small voice. "Because I can't shake the feeling that he'll keel over before he reaches the station."

"His heart was fine," Derek murmured. He placed a hand on Stiles' forearm and squeezed gently. "He smelled stressed, but that was to be expected after seeing you play with a kanima like it was a homeless puppy."

"Okay then." Stiles surveyed the breakfast table and rubbed his mouth in a move eerily like his father. "I guess we'd better clean up and head out, then. You, Isaac, and Erica have to help me find a way to take the pressure off Beacon Hills."

"Of course we will," Derek replied easily. "Call the troops and get ready, I'll deal with the kitchen."

oOo

Stiles decided that he'd found the best friends on earth. Once she'd understood just how seriously freaked out Stiles was, Erica had cancelled her plans with her parents to join him in the workshop. Likewise, Isaac had abandoned his first real solo project to help, and Derek was the solid presence that kept the teenagers from flying into a manic frenzy.

"Boyd will come later, he has to drive his grandma to the doctor," Erica called as she flew into the workshop. "How can I help?"

"Long story short, apparently the FBI is over the moon with the results they get in our neck of the woods with regards to the locust wolves and are thinking about building a facility dedicated to difficult interrogations here," Stiles rushed out, gesticulating wildly. "Which, uncool. We do not need more governmental observation or super criminals here. The potential for disaster is too great. Like, supernova great."

"So what can we do about it?" Isaac asked, eager to help but visibly at a loss at where to start.

"We need to kit out everyone's interrogation rooms," Stiles answered like it was obvious. "The alphabet soup first, because they're the ones dealing with the absolute dregs of humanity, but eventually I want all the stations and departments to have the runes."

"That's a super tall order," Erica said, stunned.

"I know!" Stiles stopped his pacing and pointed at them. "That's why you're here. You need to help me figure out how we can do that, in as short a time as possible."

The four of them were silent for a long moment.

Isaac broke it, quietly and almost reverently remarking, "If we can pull that one off, we can do anything."

"I'll make coffee," Derek said and vanished to the kitchen area.

"Isaac and I will make a list of what we know about Stiles' ward making abilities," Erica declared. Pointing at Stiles, she said, "And you will think long and hard about how you might be able to pull off what we already know from afar."

"Yes, ma'am," Stiles replied gratefully. He accepted the writing pad and pencil Isaac was shoving his way and plonked down on the wooden bench. "By the way, I'm willing to triple wages for your working hours if we find a solution this week. That gives us four days."

"Wohoo!" Erica cried, only to deflate again. "Although, for that incentive, we need to invite the others as well or they won't ever forgive us."

Stiles was pretty sure that Jackson could take it or leave it, but Erica was probably right about Lydia. He exhaled slowly to give himself a chance to calm the heck down. "Call them, then. For Boyd's sake, I hope that no one comes up with something brilliant in the next five minutes."

"That's nearly a hundred bucks per hour," Erica said, stunned anew at his readiness to throw so much money at them. "Stiles."

"No, really, please don't try to talk me out of it. That's nothing compared to what it'll mean for my dad and the pack, and all of Beacon Hills," Stiles countered. He anxiously played with his pencil, making it spin around his fingers madly.

"If we can find a way to paint runes without getting people involved, it'd save us a lot of time securing our territory as well," Derek chimed in. "Even if it's only good for preliminary wards, that's more than we have now. It matters, Erica. Money truly is not the issue here."

Erica slumped a little. "Alright. It's just … I don't want to take advantage of something that by all rights is a lively debate about comic book magic, you know?"

"You don't," Stiles told her firmly. "Because that's exactly why I hired you, Catwoman. So bring it on. Amaze me."

oOo

That night, Stiles and his team of researchers were bone-tired when they, except for Lydia who thankfully had a date with Jackson, met in Peter's apartment for their discussion.

Mr Whittemore was already there when the teens trooped in. He'd brought a literal dozen boxes of maxi-sized pizza, each a different kind, and looked ready to go for their throats in his search for answers.

Peter joined them at the dining table, placing a huge bowl of salad next to the pizza boxes. "Please sit and tuck in. You all look done for."

"We are," Stiles groaned and shamelessly leaned against Peter's sturdy frame for some scenting and a hug. "Hey pops, glad you could make it."

"Come here, kiddo, David brought pizza Hawaii with extra cheese and cheesy crust."

"Oooh." Lured by the promise of pineapple goodness, Stiles left Peter and slumped down in the indicated chair by his father. "Derek is my bro-heathen so he gets half, but I'm willing to trade you for a slice of your Fiorentina."

Like a shadow, Derek chose that moment to sit on Stiles' free side and the rest of the group followed only a few minutes later.

"Thank you all for coming," Peter addressed them as the salad and drinks were passed around. "I've already told David that we have important news regarding his son, hence his impatience. Those of you who don't already know - and I can't believe you actually didn't tell them, Stiles - what you'll learn tonight will remain between us until the time is right to reveal it to Jackson. It's not up for debate but you'll understand, I promise."

"I don't want to be rude, but can we talk about it while you eat?" Mr Whittemore asked tightly.

"If you're sure?" Peter replied. "What does the pack think? All in favour, raise your hand."

Stiles, who was hungry enough not to care about the impending drama, raised his hand alongside everyone else.

"Very well," Peter said with a nod. "Get your food and then I'll explain."

Since there was so much pizza to choose from, everyone quickly served themselves and settled in to listen.

"Last night, Stiles got a visit from a supernatural being, a large humanoid lizard, to be precise," Peter began. Everyone but Mr Whittemore knew this already so he could continue without pause. "It was the second such visit, and clever boy that he is, Stiles filmed the encounter. I'll show you later, once the explanations are out of the way. To make a long story short, Stiles befriended the creature and managed to bind it to his pack."

Mr Whittemore stared in undisguised shock at Stiles. "You befriended a giant lizard? And now he's in your pack?"

"Yeah. It's been a crazy year so far," Stiles got out between chews. He noticed the wide-eyed stares of his friends and shrugged. "What? You know it's true."

"That's not even the most amazing thing yet," Peter continued, cutting in before Erica could open her mouth and shoot a dozen questions he saw boiling inside of her. "This lizard creature is called a kanima and I'm not exaggerating when I say that kanimas are some of the most dangerous supernatural beings out there. They are very strong and fast, absolutely ruthless in the fulfilment of their goals, and produce a paralyzing poison with special glands all over their body that makes it virtually impossible to attack one with bare hands without keeling over the next minute. They're terrifying. Worse, a kanima always comes forth when an unsuitable human gets the werewolf bite."

"I don't like where this is going," Mr Whittemore muttered, clenching his teeth and balling his hands to fists.

Around the table, Erica and Boyd and even Isaac were hanging wide-eyed and open-mouthed on Peter's every word.

"No, I don't suppose you do. A kanima comes into existence when the failed bite gets ahold of a human with a lacking sense of self-worth and identity," Peter said calmly. "If there's not enough human spirit there to anchor the wolf spirit, it will transform into the kanima persona."

"I'm assuming that the point you're getting to is that my Jackson is this lizard creature Stiles has befriended." Mr Whittemore took his wine glass and emptied it in one swallow.

Peter simply inclined his head.

"There's more, isn't it? Tell me, don't drag it out," Whittemore demanded.

"Unfortunately there is more, yes." Peter refilled the man's glass and resumed talking. "The kanima spirit is lost, it has no drive, no direction. For lack of a better word, it's empty. And since it can't exist for long without a purpose - its magic won't allow it - it goes looking for a master so it may do their purpose instead of his own. If you're familiar with the Harry Potter books, the closest thing to a kanima would be an especially devoted killer house elf. It is capable of taking orders and would never talk back. Not ever. It simply serves for as long as the master can impose their will on the kanima."

Whittemore blanched. "That's insane."

"It's just as perfidious as it sounds," Peter said starkly. "Throughout history, the term master denoted a person in charge, but also of unusually strong and charismatic character. That's still the case today in certain areas. And we all know that psychopaths and sociopaths count among those unusually charismatic and strong-willed people. Had things gone supremely bad, Jackson could have been attracted to a criminal with far-reaching plans for domination, or a psychopath spoiling for an epic murder spree."

Stiles exchanged a meaningful glance with Isaac, thinking not of one but two crazy Argents, who would've made their life a living hell had they gotten their dirty mitts on the kanima.

"I can't believe it," Boyd said into the shocked silence. "Not the thing about Stiles inviting the kanima into the pack-"

"Although that's seriously insane!" Erica interjected.

"-but that Jackson of all people has so little self-confidence that he turned into such a creature," Boyd finished his sentence. "That's really hard to process."

"He's compensating for a lot," Mr Whittemore said quietly and a little broken. His eyes got wet with tears as the fight left him. "He found out that he's adopted four years ago and he never recovered from that malicious 'prank'."

Erica squirmed unhappily in her chair, her half-eaten slice of salami pizza hanging limply from her fingers. "I must admit that I thought he deserved it when it happened. He was very mean to me before, made me cry almost every day. But now I'm sorry, Mr W. No one deserves this."

"You don't need to apologize for your feelings, Erica," Whittemore sighed, wiping his eyes. "If Jackson was a brat, you're entitled to them. I just wish his mother and I had been able to solve that trauma for him before it escalated."

"Well, you couldn't have known that a deranged alpha werewolf would bite him against his will and turn him into a lizard dude. That's just karmic overkill," Stiles said, earning himself dual snorts of horrified amusement from his father and Peter. "You'll probably get the shock of your life when you see the video, all of you, but what I've been seeing so far is that Jackson is trying. He found me when he could have slithered off to wherever to find a sufficiently evil master. That's gotta count for something."

"It does," Whittemore choked out. "Good god, it does. Thank you, Stiles."

"Just so we're clear, you're not abandoning him or anything, right?" Stiles asked then, narrowing his eyes.

"Stiles," the sheriff groaned.

"It's alright." Whittemore managed a wet laugh. "It's exactly the question I would ask if I were in your shoes. I don't know whether I can keep my wife in the dark about this, but I promise that, even if she finds out and takes it badly, Jackson certainly won't lose me."

Stiles' father raised his glass. "That's all anyone here can ask. To family and friends, because there's nothing more important in the world. The rest will sort itself out."

A tear fell from Mr Whittemore's eye. Hoarsely, he said, "Thank you, John."

To make the moment less awkward, everyone took up their glasses and cried, "Cheers!", and after that, the showing and some more telling and the discussion about how and when to tell Jackson was only half as bad as it could have been.


End of chapter 64