Cue the outrage in 3 ... 2 ... 1 ...

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Chapter 71

"What," Isaac asked flatly.

"Yes, Peter. What?" Derek growled.

Stiles could only gape at the man in utter confusion.

Peter's eyes flashed red and he bared his teeth. "A fucking darach has decided to decimate our wildlife for a little power boost. Soon, animals won't be enough and they will advance to human sacrifices, virgins being a preferred type of sacrifice. Therefore I kindly ask to get laid ASAP so we can avoid at least that bit of magical terrorism."

"Wait, what? A darach?" Stiles squeaked, sweat breaking out all over his body in terror. "Like, a dark druid? For real?"

"It's probably not Deaton, which makes this whole disaster even worse," Peter snarled. His teeth lengthened and his eyes glowed even brighter. For a couple of breaths, his chest heaved as id he'd run a two-minute mile. "I hate doing this to you, especially since it's technically illegal for you to do it, but you need to change your status now."

"How?" Isaac snapped before Stiles could wail that same question. "You know that I don't want anything to do with that for a while yet!"

"And I don't care," Peter said sharply. "I'll find a prostitute if that's what it takes but I'm not knowingly subjecting either of you to a fucking darach's grab for power."

"I haven't … what sort of sacrifice are we talking about here?" Stiles asked shakily. Everything was in turmoil; he couldn't even be properly horrified about the terrible sense of loss that was scratching persistently at the back of his mind. And Lou's outraged howling wasn't helping in the least to keep a clear head.

"Most common for the really powerful rituals is the threefold death," Peter explained, his body still impossibly tense and voice ringing with barely banked fury. "Bludgeoning, strangling, and the cutting of the throat."

"In other words, really, really unpleasant," Derek said quietly. "Shit. What about Erica and Boyd? They didn't smell like … you know."

"I'll tell them," Stiles whispered. Out of wide, hot eyes, he stared at Peter, uncaring that Lou was running wild on his skin in impotent rage. "Just ... are you absolutely certain?"

Peter blinked and his eyes lost their glow. "Absolutely. I want to be wrong, I do, but every single marker points to a darach on a rampage. You have to take care of this."

Stiles licked his lips and looked down - and unfortunately right at the condoms. He felt the colour leave his face as a clump of ice formed in his stomach. "I ... I don't think I can do this. Just like that." He looked back up, willing Peter to understand.

There was silence for an excruciatingly long moment.

Then, still sounding wired, Peter said, "Let's talk in private for a moment, sweetheart. Derek, Isaac, please inform Erica and Boyd and ask them to relay the information appropriately to as many others as possible. If we can spare even a few people from this fate, we've done some good."

Stiles swallowed, flushed, and accepted Peter's outstretched hand to help him stand. He needed the assistance; his legs were weak and a little shaky. This really wasn't how he'd expected the evening to go.

Entering Peter's bedroom should've been momentous, Stiles reflected sadly - and in a way it still was. The room was large, slightly cool compared to the rest of the apartment, and was done in dark woods, silver-blue carpet, and matching designer bedding. Of course, everything was made up perfectly. Through the large window, evening sunlight was pouring in and painting everything a surreal gold.

And it smelled good. Like Peter's subtle cologne, intertwined with the man's beguiling scent. Stiles felt transported into a whole different dimension, one that only consisted of this moment where nothing else but them mattered.

It would've been the best sort of dream come true if the circumstances weren't so bleak.

Deciding that it would be foolish to beat around the bush, Stiles stuffed his hands into his still damp jeans pockets and mumbled, "I'd hoped I'd get in here for another reason. You know, someday. When I'm no longer a little kid in anyone's eyes."

It was impossible to hold Peter's gaze, but at least he managed a short glance to gauge the man's reaction to that confession.

A soft look settled on Peter's face. "You're not to me," he replied. "But you know that already, don't you?"

Stiles wished that all he needed to feel right then were happiness. Happiness that this insane attraction between them might one day become something tangible, maybe even something lasting. Instead, that first burst of indescribable pleasure was stifled by the knowledge that confessing to it and there being a potential threat to his life still wasn't enough to resolve the tension.

"And yet we still can't do anything about it," Stiles stated dully.

"No, but not for the reason you think." Peter stepped up to Stiles and gently tugged his left hand from his pocket. Just as carefully, he raised it to his lips and pressed a lingering kiss to the knuckles. "I want you, Stiles. In any way I can have you. But I don't want you like this."

"Why? I'm pretty sure that legit fuck or die scenarios render statutory rape laws obsolete," Stiles said. He shivered a little when Peter's smiling lips caressed his knuckles again. Gathering his courage for yet more confessions, he added, "I don't want to die a virgin, but … but I also don't want to have my first time with just anyone. I'm pretty sure you know who I'd like that person to be."

"Mmh. First of all, fuck or die only applies when all parties are in mortal peril," Peter pointed out, sounding impossibly fond. "And second of all, while I feel absolutely flattered, I just can't have our relationship start with that sort of power imbalance between us. I could never make up for that afterwards, and I'd never even want to try."

Stiles' brain screeched to a halt. "Wait, so you think we could actually be in a relationship? Like, a sexual one? Maybe even have a romance?"

Peter's face underwent an interesting kaleidoscope of expressions until it settled on mild incredulity. "Darling, in how many more words do I have to tell you that you're quite stuck with me? That I adore you beyond reason and would lay waste to the world to give you want you need and want?"

Stiles blushed fiercely because fucking hell, this had to be the most romantic thing anyone had, or would ever, say to him. He rallied quickly, however, and exclaimed, "That doesn't automatically mean you want to do sexy stuff to me of your own free will! How am I supposed to know that it's not just some half-hearted ploy to secure my pack membership if you don't make it absolutely clear? My dad's the sheriff! Lessons on consent were taught since kindergarten!"

"So you'd never simply presume … I see." After a moment's thought, Peter tugged Stiles to the bed and they both sat down, angled towards each other. "I'm appalled at how unromantic and backwards we're having to do this, but needs must, I suppose." He tipped up Stiles' chin and looked him straight in the eye. "As I said, I want you, darling. With all that it entails. You're beautiful, from the tips of your hair down to your toes, and even more so for your astounding mind."

Stiles gasped quietly, and within him, Lou howled and whined with renewed hope and happiness.

"I want you today, and I'll want you in nine months when you turn eighteen," Peter continued. "Whenever you're ready, I'll be here, ready to explore what is between us." He smirked. "I should be so lucky to have you in my bed, flailing limbs and all."

"But that's nine months away!" Stiles moaned. "And also, fuck you."

Peter laughed and then said baldly, "I don't care that I'll have to wait. I don't care what experiences you might have with others during that time, either, or for however long you wish even after your birthday. I just want you, and I want you on equal footing if at all possible."

"But …" Stiles bit his lip and squeezed Peter's hand tightly. "But won't it be … difficult for you, if I find someone else to, uh, sleep with? I always thought you werewolf guys were possessive and stuff."

"Usually we are, but oddly, no. I won't have a problem with this." Peter studied Stiles intently. "I had my fair share of adventures before the fire and there was no one on the horizon who managed to capture my attention the way you did from day one of our acquaintance. I can and will wait for you. If in nine months you still want to give us a try, well … then things'll change. Once I have you, I won't share."

Stiles could barely speak, his chest felt so full. "Good, because we Stilinskis don't share, either." He sniffed and cursed his frayed nerves. "But you've got another thing coming if I'm having my first kiss with anyone else but you. That's not negotiable."

"Is that so?" Peter asked, intrigued.

"Don't try me, I can trap you with mountain ash," Stiles threatened.

"Hmm, I'd never," Peter purred, eyes flickering red again.

"Filthy lies," Stiles rumbled back, helped along by Lou who whole-heartedly supported the imminent intimacy.

With a boldness he couldn't explain, Stiles scooted up to Peter and placed his hands around that warm, thick neck. The life thrumming through the veins there raised the hair on Stiles' arms and the attraction between them burned bright and hot. His thumbs caressed the man's stubbled jaw and then, after a minuscule tilt of Peter's head, he bent forward as if drawn by magnetic power and carefully pressed their lips together.

It was gloriously magical, just like Stiles had always seen in movies and read in his mom's romance novels. A sweet sort of heat was travelling through all of his synapses and nerves and the well of writhing emotion in his chest was overflowing into the rest of his body. From his hands, the mountain ash was streaming onto Peter's body, holding and caressing him and giving Stiles a guilty little glimpse into the perfection that was the werewolf's body. Without conscious thought, someone's tongue cheekily teased against someone else's lips and then their tongues were tangling and Stiles was falling, falling, falling …

oOo

"You should've told him when we left," Derek said into the dazed silence in Stiles' Jeep. He was driving and trying hard not to run over too many of the dead birds still littering the street. It was only early evening but the sky was a very weird mix of steely dark grey clouds and golden sunshine that reflected blazingly on the wet streets.

"Told him what?" Stiles asked mellowly.

"You know what," Derek pushed and spared him a look.

Stiles smiled crookedly. "He already knows. I do, too."

Derek's eyebrows rose a little. "Yeah?"

"It's so strange," Stiles replied, waking up a little from his daydream. "I was all devastated because I wouldn't get to have my first time with … with him, okay, because yeah, I was harbouring the mother of all crushes for the dude, but then we had this really amazing adult conversation and now I'm … I dunno. Just not worried anymore."

"What did he tell you?" Derek asked, visibly intrigued despite himself.

"You didn't listen in?" Stiles returned, surprised.

"We couldn't, Peter had all of our bedrooms soundproofed."

"Ah. Cool." Stiles felt another wave of that amazing sense of security roll over him and grinned. "He just told me that he wants me, whenever I'm ready for it. And that he doesn't worry about people I might meet before we can legally try having a relationship because he already had that before the fire and doesn't see a reason why I shouldn't get to experience the same."

Derek let out a surprised sound. "I knew that he liked you a lot, but that's …" he raised his shoulders in a helpless shrug, "something else."

"I'm sorry if that's weird, Sourwolf," Stiles said, worry creeping in at Derek's circumspect language. "Please don't be mad."

"I'm not mad," Derek said, exhaling slowly. "I'm just … not surprised, exactly, because you two have flirted for a while, but also yes because it seems to be serious."

"I know, right? All of a sudden I'm really glad that I've got some time," Stiles admitted. "Not because I've got cold feet, not at all. He's obviously great at everything he does, but maybe I shouldn't tell you just how awesome the kissing was so never mind."

"Yes, please don't," Derek rumbled, but there was a smile tugging on his mouth.

"Uhm, yeah, so, to sum it up I just feel ... free, knowing that I get to go out and have fun and then come home one day and that's it," Stiles said, fidgeting a little.

"And if you don't feel the same way in a year, you can both move on," Derek completed the thought.

"Yeah, at least that's what he said. That's pretty amazing, isn't it?" Stiles asked softly. He turned his head and stared at Derek. "I never really thought that I was too young before, you know. Losing my mom forced me to grow up pretty quickly. But now I do."

"It's hard not to, in the face of this sort of maturity," Derek offered. His voice became quiet. "I'm glad that Peter hasn't taken advantage of the darach situation."

"He said he couldn't because not all requirements for a fuck or die scenario were met," Stiles informed him with a put-out huff and burst into laughter when Derek's eyebrows threatened to touch his hairline.

oOo

Isaac was the most pragmatic motherfucker Stiles had ever met. Right after their krav maga course the next day he asked Stiles to drop him off at home because Peter would take him to a hooker.

"A hooker," Stiles repeated, incredulous.

Isaac rolled his eyes. "She won't take it personally if I don't wanna kiss or whatever. I just want to get this over with. I even used a Lucky Dust card for some extra guidance just so nothing will go wrong. Fucking darach, as if we didn't already have enough bullshit on our plates."

Stiles could get behind the sentiment, but engaging a prostitute hadn't even crossed his mind, despite Peter mentioning it. "Well, uh, to success, then, I guess."

"Fucking ha," Isaac snarled and slammed the door to the Jeep shut.

Still bewildered, Stiles was glad for Erica's SOS a few minutes later to come and save her from a boring evening alone. Since her parents were working late and Boyd was spending time with his grandmother, she couldn't watch TV by herself for fear of suffering an epilepsy attack. Not even Stiles' healing cards could take that fear away from her completely, which was more than understandable in Stiles' opinion.

Isaac's idea of using a Lucky Dust card resonated with him, however, so he pulled one from his wallet and ripped it up, praying for a miracle to resolve this impossible situation.

"You're a lifesaver," Erica said when Stiles appeared on her doorstep half an hour later. She wore shorts, a tank top, and had put her hair up in a messy bun on the top of her head. For the first time in months, her face was free of make-up, though she didn't need it anyway as far as Stiles was concerned. She'd acquired a golden tan during all their time spent outdoors and looked pretty vibrant without any sort of enhancement due to her occasional usage of the lightest healing cards. "Come on in, I've already set up the TV and made popcorn. Did you bring the strawberries?"

"Of course I did. Does Boyd know that you have a mean crush on Bond?" Stiles teased, handing her the bag.

Erica waggled her eyebrows. "Anything to get me in the mood. And I mean that literally. We decided that we'll do it this weekend to head off this virgin sacrifice thing. It's sooner than Boyd wanted, but I'm still looking forward to it."

Stiles smiled a little wistfully. "I hope it'll be good."

"Yeah, me too. I really like him," Erica said shyly. "And, uh, just for the record, if you need someone to lose your V-card, Boyd said that it'd be okay if I offered."

"He what?" Stiles asked, perplexed. "Dude, no, he's crazy about you."

"Stiles, Isaac's going to see a hooker, it's that serious," Erica said.

"It could be a malicious hoax!" Stiles argued, gesticulating wildly.

Erica just snorted. "No way is this a hoax; Peter wouldn't do that to you. And, well, Boyd knows how much I liked you before we met. He likes you, too. We'd both be okay with it if it's to save you from a dark ritual."

Stiles was speechless. "I … wow. Thanks, Catwoman. I, er, maybe I'll keep that in mind. Just in case."

Erica winked. "You do that. You'd be one of my five exceptions, anyway."

"What?" Stiles cried. He flushed hotly. "Oh my god, Erica! Boyd will kill me!"

"He will not because it probably won't come to it. I've asked you here for another reason than just ogling Bond's hot bod, you know."

"Oh?" Stiles raised an eyebrow.

"Yup. A new family just moved into my street and they have a daughter our age," Erica said. "She's cute, and after that darach news, I thought I'd introduce you and see if you catch fire. If you do, you could take care of things easily." She snapped her fingers and smirked.

"Sneaky, Catwoman, very sneaky. When were you gonna try and set us up?" Stiles asked, now suspicious of the power of his Lucky Dust cards. Surely it had to be a huge accident that right after using one he'd not only gotten an actual offer but was also being hooked up with a convenient girl next door.

Erica glanced at her watch and in just that moment the doorbell rang. She smiled winningly. "I thought now would do nicely."

"Wha …" Thoroughly spooked now, Stiles could only watch as Erica went to open the door and welcome the visitor in.

"Great that you could make it, Heather," Erica beamed. "My friend's already here!"

Stiles couldn't believe his eyes when he heard the name and a second later recognized the face. "Heather?" he asked hesitantly.

The girl, a slim blonde with curled hair, looked over and shrieked. "Stiles! You're Erica's friend? Ohmigod, I haven't seen you in ages! You probably won't believe me but I've wanted to call you all summer! What happened? Your number was no longer working and the two times I tried reaching your dad at the station he wasn't available! Plus, I somehow never quite managed to come around your house which was really strange."

Stiles grimaced. "Sorry about that. I lost my phone in the woods back in January and had to get a new one. Things have been crazy around here so I simply forgot to get your number again. I guess it's time we finally exchanged e-mail addresses, huh?"

"Absolutely!" Heather squealed again and hugged Stiles excitedly. "Man, it's so great to see you!"

"Yeah, it really is," Stiles mumbled into her hair. "I'm ashamed to confess that I didn't even know you were moving. Why did you move?"

Heather grimaced, still holding on tightly. "Black mould all over the basement and it's crept up to the first floor. The house will be levelled because there's nothing anyone can do to save it. Dad engaged the demolition company for September so our neighbours won't be bothered with the noise and dirt during the summer. It's been sealed off, though."

"Crap, I'm sorry," Stiles said sincerely. "You bet that I'll check our house for mould tonight, because yikes."

"Totally." She let go of him and dragged him by the hand towards the couch. Erica followed with an intrigued smile on her face. "You know, I often wanted to visit but my mom always told me to give you space after what happened in April." Heather shook her head. "Scott McCall, helping a criminal kidnap your dad. We all couldn't believe it."

"You shouldn't even know that much," Stiles sighed. "Small cities are a nightmare sometimes."

"Your dad's the sheriff, of course some details have made the rounds," Heather replied apologetically. "I haven't gossiped much, I promise, but I needed to know that you and your dad were fine."

"Can I ask how you know each other?" Erica interjected curiously as she made herself comfortable at one end of the sofa, blatantly leaving the rest of the space to Stiles and Heather.

"Oh, our moms were best friends," Heather said, smiling brightly. "And we were best friends in kindergarten and elementary school but then we went on to different high schools. Mine has a focus on music and drama; I'm working on becoming an actress."

"Yeah, that. After my mom's death we just … drifted apart a little," Stiles said contritely. "I'm really sorry, Heather. I should've kept in contact more."

"That's life," she replied philosophically and shrugged. "We're seeing each other now … and wow, I like what I'm seeing. You look amazing."

Stiles pointed at himself incredulously. "What, me?"

Heather grinned. "You grew up real nice, Stiles. I like your new hair cut ... and your arms. Meow."

Erica grinned as well. "She's not wrong, Batman."

"Well, you're pretty hot yourself, Heat," Stiles replied, abashed. "So what's new with you? Are you still with that guy? What was his name? Corben? Corwin?"

"Colby," she corrected. "And no."

"Why? I thought it was Big Love?" Stiles wondered.

"Yeah, me too," Heather said, "but then I mentioned wanting to finally have sex and he bailed hard and fast."

Erica snorted her water out of her nose, spluttering curses as she wiped at her wet chest. "He what? Why? Is he gay or what?"

"Nah, just a douchebag," Heather sighed. "One with two side chicks so I guess he just didn't want any more action. The asshole. Can you imagine that he wanted me to be the girlfriend he brings home to meet the parents because I look so sweet and wholesome?"

"Makes me wonder what his side chicks looked like," Stiles said, astounded. "Not that I'm kink-shaming or anything."

Erica snorted water again, much to her disgust. In exasperation, she set her glass of water down and flung a handful of popcorn at Stiles. "You jerk!"

"Yeah, well, now I'm single again and not in the mood for something serious because fuck this shit." Heather grabbed her own handful of popcorn out of the huge bowl and stuffed it into her mouth. "But I'm down for perving on Daniel Craig. You ready to get started?"

"Yeah, I'll just change into something dry," Erica said, giving Stiles the evil eye. "I'll be back in a sec. Or, you know, if you wanna make out I can stay away for fifteen minutes."

Heather flushed. "Erica." After a not very subtle once-over of Stiles' body, she added in an endearing mix of bold and bashful, "Maybe later, though."

Stiles bit his lip, not sure if he had somehow managed to land in the Twilight Zone, or if this was actually happening.

It turned out that it was actually happening. Not at all shy about her interest in him, Heather later that night asked Stiles to accompany her home since she only lived half a dozen houses down from Erica now.

"It was really good seeing you again," she told him, her hand warm around his fingers as they walked. "Sorry if I was coming on a bit strongly. I guess it's just all that great weather and being a single teenager with hormones and stuff."

"Nah, it's alright," Stiles said and managed not to stutter. "It was just a surprise. Girls never came on to me before. Not seriously, at least. Guys either, come to think of it."

Heather smiled. "Well, it's their loss. Maybe we could go out sometime soon? I did miss you, and my parents, too. You should come and say hello soon."

"I will," Stiles promised. "My dad as well, if you like. He's got a ton of work right now, but I'm sure he'd like that."

"Then we have a deal. I've got your new number, I'll text or call." Heather daintily stepped closer to Stiles and stood on her tiptoes. "I'll see you soon, handsome."

And with that, she kissed him right on the lips, smiled, and wandered into her house, leaving a completely flummoxed Stiles behind.

End of chapter 71