Hey guys, here's the next chapter. I cannot thank you enough for all of your kind and encouraging comments, they really brighten up my day. Maybe our boys and girls' shenanigans will brighten up yours in return. :)

Chapter 79

It was past one at night when the wolf spirit bloomed into existence inside of Boyd.

"Oh," Stiles said softly, stroking his palm along Boyd's slightly sweaty arm despite feeling overcome with the birth of the new spark. Its sweet, tiny presence was like a soft pitter-patter along the mountain ash Lou was using to feel out his half-unconscious friends. "There you are. Hi."

At once, all the werewolves crowded around the couch and stared in mute astonishment and with glowing eyes at the spectacle Lou was making of himself. The human guests were right behind, craning their necks to see what was going on. Danny was on photo duty again, although he switched to filming and advised the others of that fact.

Heedless of watching eyes, Peter placed his hand over Stiles' again, his eyes glowing red as the tiny flecks of light dancing along the deep black mountain ash tickled his skin. "Be welcome, cub," he rumbled gently, so gently. "I'm so glad you found a home here."

Stiles' breath hitched and he blinked. "If you all wanna feel it, you should hurry."

Derek and Isaac's hands both shot forward, their fingers splaying over Boyd's biceps. At once their eyes brightened even further.

"Amazing," Isaac whispered through his dropped fangs.

Lydia draped over his back and reached out. The mountain ash reared a little to reach back, hugging her fingertips needily. "Oh … yes." She took a shaky breath. "Like a tiny universe being born."

"It's growing quickly," Derek murmured. "I can feel it. I never knew that our spirits … unfurl in a human."

"When they're not growing along with their human, they need to mature quickly," Peter explained to the rapt audience. He softly stroked over Boyd's closely cropped hair, earning himself a firm grip around his free wrist. "That's what's taking so much out of people during the turning. You're doing well, Boyd. Hang in there."

"What about Erica?" Mrs Reyes asked anxiously, stretching a little to see over Derek's shoulder.

"She's not quite there yet," Stiles admitted, "but Lou says that she doesn't feel wrong. He's certain that she'll turn just fine. It might take longer because of her illness, though."

"Oh, thank god," her father exclaimed, holding his wife tightly around the shoulders. His dark eyes glittered wetly. "Knowing that we can wait for however long it takes."

Once everyone had had a chance to feel the event through Stiles' magic - and wasn't it an eye-opener for Mrs Whittemore to offset the brutality of the bite with this silent, ethereal wonder - Dr Lee took Boyd and Erica's vitals and made more notes. By now half his notebook was filled with his writing and Stiles silently bet all of his healing cards that the doctor would've filled it up completely in the morning when the turning was complete.

A bit later, Stiles was up and stretching his legs. Jackson of all people had volunteered to keep watch, together with Erica's parents. Close by, Lydia and Danny were discussing more features for the new website and Isaac was sketching something on a large pad of watercolour paper. He already had an inkpot and a dip pen ready, indicating that he planned on drawing through the night. Stiles wasn't even marginally surprised to see his dad and Derek drinking a beer in the far side corner of the room together, with Jackson's parents standing nearby but being involved in a discussion of their own.

"Coffee?" Peter asked quietly after Stiles had made his way around the apartment.

"Yes, please," Stiles sighed. He rubbed his face. "I'm getting too old for all-nighters. The next turning party should start in the morning as Isaac's did. That worked out perfectly."

Peter inclined his head. "Duly noted. Unfortunately, I don't think that our new cubs would like you going for a nap for a couple of hours now."

"I can just snooze on the couch. Lou will wake me if something happens," Stiles answered with a shrug. "Can I try your new French Vanilla syrup?"

Peter leered at him. "You can try anything of mine at any time you please, sweetheart." He prepared the glass with artful swirls of the sirup and started the coffee maker.

Tired and fascinated, Stiles watched first the dark brown coffee and then the thick white milk foam pour into the glass. The smell was divine and combined with a few bites from the leftover food, he soon felt somewhat restored. It got even better when Peter sent him to his office and followed a few minutes later.

"We're alone," Stiles murmured, watching Peter with bated breath. His hand around the half-empty coffee glass became sweaty.

"Mmh, finally," Peter purred. "I didn't anticipate staying away from you being so hard with so many people around." He placed his own latte on his desk and slowly crowded Stiles against it until the teen parked his butt on it and spread his legs to make room for him. "That'll teach me better. May I kiss you?"

"Please," Stiles whispered, winding his arms around Peter's waist and leaning forward.

Their lips met in a gentle press that released all the tension in Stiles' shoulders. On his skin, Lou was going nuts with pleasure. As he was wont to do, the wolf spirit raced onto Peter's body and hugged him tightly.

He also suggestively rubbed over Peter's built chest and cheekily teased his nipples.

"Lou!" Stiles cried and flushed beet red. He'd felt that in his palms and fingertips like he'd bad-touched Peter himself. "I'm so sorry, ohmigod."

Peter smirked. "I do believe he wants to do you favours, darling. I don't mind, as long as he's doing it in private."

"Isn't that even a little bit weird?" Stiles croaked, still flustered. "That a wolf spirit has the hots for you?"

Peter's lupine leer softened and he pressed a lingering kiss to Stiles' cheek. "He likes me because you like me, sweetheart. It might be that all of our magics are uniquely compatible, but that alone is not the cornerstone of attraction." He took Stiles' nerveless hand and placed it on his chest. "Plausible deniability is our friend, but if you'd rather have all your firsts yourself, be my guest. I want it, even if I have to pretend that I don't until you're legal."

Stiles should've drawn away right there and then, but he was tired and needy and so, so head over heels for the man.

Tentatively, he allowed himself a slow, careful rub over Peter's fantastic pec. All of his nerves were firing frantic signals to his brain and he thought he'd pass out from the intimacy of it.

"You're beautiful," Stiles murmured, eyes flicking up to Peter's red gaze. Under his palm, he could feel the hard nub of Peter's nipple. He wished he could pinch it, or better yet, nibble on it until they were both panting. He wished that he were old enough to take this to the bedroom, or at least to a mutually satisfying conclusion right here.

"So are you," Peter growled, skin now a little flushed as well. "You smell amazing, I could just eat you up. One day soon, I will. Over and over again."

Stiles whimpered, his jeans becoming decidedly tight and then both of Peter's hands framed his face and he was kissing Stiles insistently. His tongue slid against the seam of Stiles' mouth before breaching in a slow conquering thrust. That hint of fang as their tongues tangled did unspeakable things to Stiles' self-control and Lou did nothing to help him keep it together.

For a minute, Stiles' brain made every attempt at liquifying and dribbling out of his ears as his body was overloaded with sensation. He didn't know whether Lou was really running all over his sensitive places, but the ideas that gave him were … well.

Then, much to Stiles' regret and relief both, Peter gentled their kisses and touches, allowing them to cool down again and regain their wits.

"I've rarely wished myself back to my teenage years, but right now I'd gladly take it," he told Stiles. His red eyes looked especially bright in his flushed face. He ran a finger over Stiles' swollen lower lip. "I remember how cruel it was to stop. You shouldn't have to do that."

"I'll deal with it later," Stiles said with a little grin, only to frown when Peter failed to acknowledge the tease. "What's wrong?"

"Maybe you should reconsider your willingness to forsake sex with that lady friend of yours," Peter rumbled.

Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you trying to ruin my glow by being a self-sacrificing moron?"

Peter glared back. "Excuse me for feeling some empathy for your plight."

"It's our plight, Mister," Stiles huffed. He demonstratively ran both of his hands to Peter's chest and flicked his nipples, which caused a very pretty little jerk of the werewolf's hips. "I'm not gonna back out of our agreement and neither will you if you know what's good for you."

"Not even engaged and you're already bossy, are you?" Peter hissed through his fangs.

"I was bossy when you met me," Stiles snarked back. "Not one more word about Heather and me doing the deed, dude. That ship has sailed, has gone over the horizon, dropped off the end of the world. Deal with it."

"You will regret that," Peter warned. "Blue balls are a thing. And they're nasty."

Stiles just shrugged. "Worth it."

Peter's red eyes searched Stiles' equally red eyes. "It's the most amazing thing that you actually mean that."

"No, the most amazing thing is that you licked this," Stiles indicated himself, "and decided to keep it. Just in case you forgot, Stilinskis don't do returns. You've got no one to blame but yourself."

Humming softly, Peter leaned closer and snuffled along Stiles' temple before kissing his forehead. "I shall endeavour to lick you at least every couple of days to cement my claim."

Stiles dragged him into another toe-curling kiss before huffing, "Every couple of days at least. I'm insecure."

"We can't have that," Peter murmured and ran his nose behind Stiles' ear. A soft lick followed. "There, that's today taken care of."

Groaning, Stiles buried his face in Peter's shoulder. "I might have to ask you to elope to Scotland, after all."

"Whenever you're ready," Peter said roughly and pulled Stiles into a tight hug.

They shared a wonderful couple of minutes just embracing and enjoying the silence between them. Stiles soaked up the mingled smell of Peter's laundry detergent and cologne, all made irresistible with his natural scent. He'd always understood just how comforting a person's scent could be, but he'd never been in love before and that made a large difference. He wanted to crawl into Peter and yet didn't; he wanted to bottle up his scent yet also felt repelled by the very thought because it could mean that Peter wouldn't be around as much if he had that.

It was maddening and beautiful and so much more intense than his crush on Lydia. He had fantasized about her smell, of course he had, only he'd never been allowed close enough to compare it to the real thing.

"We need to go back," Peter murmured at long last. "Isaac and Derek are getting restless. They do not begrudge us time alone but they worry."

"It's cool. Thanks for this little time-out," Stiles said, suddenly shy. "Who leaves first?"

"I'll go. Finish your coffee first, you'll need it for when Erica's wolf decides to make his appearance."

"Okay." Stiles did his very best to let go of Peter without making a fuss, even though he sort of wanted to. But he'd been through one obsession already and didn't want to make all the same mistakes again by being too clingy.

It comforted him that Lou was just as sad about Peter's departure … and he was even more comforted by the fact that Lou's own special brand of magic could apparently take care of the physical evidence of Stiles' making out. Gone were the stubble rash and the flushed skin, and a minute later his still heightened arousal was also settling.

"Thanks, bud," Stiles whispered just before he opened the office door and slipped out.

He still made a short detour to the bathroom to splash his face with water before rejoining his friends in the large living room area.

"There you are," Isaac called and waved him over. "Derek says Erica's changing now!"

Everyone was already there, Erica's father by her side and stroking her hair and Boyd awake enough to hold Erica's hand and murmur encouragement through the discomfort.

"Stiles," Boyd said hoarsely when Stiles tried to squeeze himself between them as carefully as he could. "Something's wrong. What's wrong with us?"

"Us?" Stiles asked uncomprehendingly even as Lou was already streaming out with his mountain ash to get a feel for the situation. "Oh. Oh."

"Yeah," Boyd said through gritted teeth.

"What is going on?" Lydia demanded.

Stiles was getting swamped with conflicting information. There was a grim determination from Boyd on one side and howling desperation from Erica's. Although her spark was still tiny, it was projecting so much unhappiness that it made Stiles' insides ache in sympathy.

"I don't know …" He tried to listen better but the immaturity of the spark was making it very difficult. "Uh. I think it wants … out?"

"Out?" Stiles' father repeated, mouth dropping open. "What?"

Stiles grimaced. "I know! But that's what I'm … oh no, not you, too, Boyd-wolf!"

"Stiles!" Jackson shouted, frustrated. "Explain!"

"Jackson," Mr Whittemore said sharply. "Mind your tone. You do see how hard he's trying, don't you?"

"Sorry," Jackson mumbled mulishly.

"I'm sorry, too," Stiles offered. His knuckles were bone-white from the pressure he needed to keep on Erica and Boyd's arms to maintain the connection. "It doesn't make a whole lot of sense but it appears that they're in the wrong … uhm."

"In the wrong what?" Peter pressed. "Tell us so we might help."

Stiles exhaled gustily. "I'm not sure we can."

"Stiles," Boyd gritted out urgently. "Just tell them."

"Okay, so it appears that their sparks got … mixed up," Stiles said, wincing when shouts of disbelief made his ears ring. "Erica's spark wants out. To Boyd. And Boyd's wolf is telling me that it needs to be in Erica. Now that they're both awake, and I'm doing some magic telephone mojo, they know."

"I've never heard of such a thing," Derek stated, eyes wide in astonishment. "Not ever."

"Even if we had, how would we accomplish a switch?" Peter asked, face tight with worry. "Is it bad enough for them to reject their hosts altogether?"

"I don't think so," Stiles said lamely. "But they'd be really, really unhappy. No idea what that would mean in the long run. I'm guessing anger management issues at the very least." A little guiltily, he looked at his dad. "I mean, Scott had some real issues reconciling with Lou and I don't think it was Lou's fault. Sometimes it's just a bad fit. Plus, it might've been okay if it weren't for my mojo in the first place. I'm sorry."

Mrs Reyes sobbed. "That's not what I wanted for my baby girl."

In the following silence, only the scratching of Dr Lee's pen on the pages of his notebook was audible. Danny was once again filming.

"Doesn't anyone have an idea?" Mrs Whittemore asked tightly. "Any idea at all?"

"Well, Stiles yanked Lou from McCall," Isaac said into the sombre silence after some hesitation. "If there hadn't been the mountain ash, Lou might've merged with him that night."

"I can't yank them out! They're babies!" Stiles protested. Pulses of gratitude mixed with a wretched fear travelled through Lou into his mind. It made the alpha spark growl protectively in Stiles' mind. "But we need to fix this. I promised to watch out for them."

"He wants Boyd, Batman," Erica rasped unexpectedly. The fingernails of her free hand dug into Stiles' arm. "They belong … together." Her dark eyes blinked tiredly up at him. "Let Lou fix it."

"Lou?" Stiles echoed. "Not Peter?"

"Peter's not magic," she insisted breathlessly. "Not like you."

Stiles considered this. "Well … Lou's still an alpha. Maybe he could somehow order them."

Preening, Lou rushed up to his neck and careened back down over Stiles' chest and back as if in agreement.

"But the wolves are still tiny. He'd need to be nice about it. Or maybe …," Stiles paused his out-loud thinking, his frown clearing away as he stared at Peter. "What if he could just … take them by the scruff of their neck and place them in the right nest, so to speak? Lou, what do you think? Can you do that? Peter, can he do that?"

After taking a moment to consider it, Peter shrugged and said, "We don't actually know what all he can and can't do with your help. Right now all we can do is try."

"I was afraid you'd say that," the sheriff complained. Mr Whittemore didn't look too happy either.

The mountain ash on Stiles' arm curled around and around even more restlessly.

Stiles' father sighed at the display. "No offence, Lou."

"None taken," Stiles assured him, silently soothing Lou's raised hackles. "Peter's right, though. Either we do or don't, but at least there is a try in there for us. If it goes badly, we can stop soon enough. I think."

"What a pep talk," Jackson muttered. He crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest and bit his lip.

"It's the best I can do. Are you feeling up to trying?" Stiles asked his friends. "If you wanna complete the turning first, just let us know. It might be better."

"No," Boyd said exhaustedly. "Now. While it's still easy."

"Yes, now," Erica agreed weakly before pressing her face back into her pillow.

"Alright," Stiles said. He took a shaky breath. "One wolf switch is coming up. Here goes nothing."

End of chapter 79