It's only been a few days since I've asked for help and the fantastic QueenieKildare has already gifted this story a cover. Isn't it beautiful? I'm still squeeing about it and I've had a couple of days to admire it already! (Note: You can view the pictures on AO3.)
Queenie, this chapter is dedicated to you.
Chapter 80
Having been one of the most vocal supporters of capturing this turning party for posterity, Stiles now deeply regretted his enthusiasm. None of them could have foreseen such a sudden left turn and if it went badly, he didn't want to have his failure and his friends' pain available for someone else's morbid viewing pleasure. In the artfully dim light in the living room, the whole thing would only look even more sinister, if not downright evil.
We are not evil and we will not fail, Lou growled. It's just pups in the wrong human.
Just pups in the wrong human, he says, Stiles groaned back. How often did you guys get that straightened out, huh?
That shut Lou up, but only for a moment.
It is rare, the wolf spark admitted. We always need help. But you and I, together, can do it.
Stiles took another deep breath in a vain attempt to settle his nerves. I hope you don't agree with Isaac in that we'll have to rip the pups out. That'd probably kill me. They're already crying so loudly.
And they did. Their magical little voices were making Stiles' head ring.
They'll soon be happy, Lou rumbled. Let's begin. Trust me.
"I do," Stiles murmured, eyelids lowering a little at the intense feeling of togetherness filling him up. Where before they'd been Stiles and Lou, they merged into something more now … something Stiles suspected came close to how it would be if Lou truly bonded with him.
The thought didn't make him happy at all because he enjoyed being able to communicate with the wolf spark. The absence of his 'voice' would be traumatic.
No worries, Lou soothed, sending the equivalence to a long, raspy lick over Stiles' face. Love being like this.
Sorry, Stiles thought, chagrined. No more getting distracted.
Pups first, Lou agreed, getting another lick in before sinking back into Stiles' being and lighting up every little part inside of him with his determination and trust in Stiles.
Soon after, the mountain ash on Stiles' skin spread out, webbing all over Erica and Boyd's skin. Lou told Stiles to keep all his senses open as this was not a time for modesty.
Stiles didn't even have to worry about sneaking peeks at private places because almost immediately the physical sense of his friends was replaced by the wolf magic raging inside of them. Still small, both his friends' spirits were desperately trying to latch onto Lou's presence.
"Ow," Stiles complained as something not unlike little sharp teeth nipped at his magical awareness. "You guys so owe me for that!"
"Kiddo," the sheriff breathed and pointed at Boyd's arm. "Look!"
Every single pair of eyes went there and several people gasped at the sight of tiny flecks of golden light assembling and flickering in the blackness of the teeming mountain ash on Boyd's shoulder.
"It's beautiful," Danny whispered, awed. He had to wipe first his left and then his right hand on his pants to keep a good grip on the camera because they were so sweaty.
"It doesn't feel beautiful," Stiles hissed. "It hurts. It hurts Boyd and Erica, too."
"Doesn't matter," Boyd grunted. He tightened his grip on his girlfriend's hand. "Just get it over with. Please."
The nipping became more insistent. And as if he were spurred on by Boyd-wolf's efforts, Erica's spirit now also tried to grab a hold on Lou and Stiles, proving that he had a set of very sharp little metaphorical teeth and claws.
Time to grab them by the scruff of their necks, filtered into Stiles' awareness. Even Lou, as entwined with Stiles as he was at the moment, projected his own stress now into Stiles' mental landscape. Once we have them, do not let go. Drag them. To our packmates' hands.
Roger, Stiles replied. He hadn't known that he could pant mentally, but there he was. Licking his salty upper lip, he tried to cup his magic around the little rascals as he had once cupped his hands around a kitten's butt and tugged.
The yowls of pain in Stiles' were heart-wrenching, easily worse than Erica's quiet, distressed sobs. He gritted his teeth and cursed quietly and tried to keep his eyes on both the little sparkly clusters of light on Boyd and Erica's arms. The mountain ash wrapped them up snugly but what roots they'd already grown in their humans were stubborn - far more stubborn than Stiles would've thought, considering their utter conviction of having been planted in the wrong body.
Slowly, so slowly, he and Lou managed to drag the wolf sparks along. Sweat was beading on Stiles' forehead and there was a faint ringing in his ears that had nothing to do with the high-pitched screams of the newborn wolf spirits.
"You're doing very well," Peter murmured encouragingly. "We can all see that they're going the right way."
Isaac placed a hand on Boyd's ankle and squeezed. "The pups are almost at your wrists … let go now. You and Erica need to help. You won't lose them, promise. Trust Stiles and Lou."
Erica whimpered and pressed her head into Stiles' hip. "Promise me, Batman."
"Of course, I do," Stiles said fiercely. He flinched at the feeling of the small roots snapping. It was like an echo of dying and he couldn't imagine how much worse it must be for his friends. "It's super scary, I know. Hold on just a little bit longer. When this is over, we'll eat all the ice cream."
Stiles chanced just a quick look at his friends and family, taking in the pale faces and clenched hands. Lydia's lips were pressed into a thin line and a pale Jackson was gnawing on his thumbnail. To his credit, Derek only looked stony but Stiles knew just how much he wanted it all to work out. Jackson's mom had even turned away, too distraught to watch. Erica's parents were utter wrecks. They kept their hands on Erica to support her, sharing her suffering through the small tendril of mountain ash Lou had wound around their wrists.
Stiles admired and adored their dedication to Erica even in the face of weird and inexplicable magic.
It was this admiration that allowed him to tap into reserves he didn't know he had, and pull the wiggling and struggling wolf spirits along the last few inches.
"Peter," Stiles suddenly gasped when the deepest roots refused to budge. Yanking on them was so painful that he almost blacked out. By his side, Isaac was grimly pulling some of the pain from Boyd, Derek hastily doing the same for Erica. The girl looked half-dead after only a few minutes of this, all pasty skin and matted hair.
At once, Peter came as close as he could. "What do you need?"
"Not me, them. They need you after all," Stiles ground out. "They're afraid to let go. Tell them it's okay. Tell them they just have to cross over to their true body. You're their alpha, you need to watch over them."
Not even hesitating, Peter touched his fingers to Erica and Boyd's clasped hands. Stiles' mountain ash immediately wrapped it all up in black threads and both Stiles and Peter's eyes glowed red at the unbearably intimate connection.
Alpha, the wolf sparks whined. Afraid. Wrong body hurts. No roots hurt worse.
I know, Peter sent along the magical pathway Stiles had forged. His presence was so large, so comforting, and so solid that Stiles could allow himself a moment of rest in this chaos of hurt and hope. Your true human is right here. It'll only be scary for a second, I promise. All will be well. Trust me. Let go now.
For a long, breathless moment, nothing happened.
And then the last magical roots in Erica and Boyd snapped in a horrendous leap of faith and Stiles was overwhelmed by the mad rush of two wolf spirits clamouring for their true port in this storm. His vision exploded in gold glitter and all sound went away, even Lou's excited howling.
oOo
When Stiles came to, bright sunlight was streaming through the window and he was lying fully in his friends' nest, both of them wrapped tightly around him in their sleep. Smells of breakfast, sweat, and traces of fresh morning air lured Stiles out of his stupor.
"Good morning, trouble-maker," the sheriff greeted him softly. He smiled and squeezed Stiles' foot that was poking out from the comforter. "How are you feeling?"
Stiles blinked. "Rested, actually. What time is it?"
"Gone ten," his father replied. "Lydia and Jackson have gone home after you fell asleep. Jackson's parents dropped her off. Danny elected to spend the night with Isaac."
"What?" Stiles' mouth dropped.
John snorted. "That boy has a mad crush on Isaac. Too bad it won't go anywhere."
"It's the abs," Stiles said muzzily, rallying. "They still asleep?"
"No, they were up around eight and Danny went home. Derek looked in on you before leaving for the preserve," the sheriff supplied. "Since you slept through breakfast, Peter stayed around to feed you when you're ready. And speaking of Peter ..."
Stiles groaned, flopping his head back into his pillow.
His father raised an eyebrow. "Is there something you want to tell me? Maybe about the quarter-hour when you both vanished last night?"
"Are you asking me to tell?" Stiles countered, looking away shiftily.
"I'd much rather not know," John declared. "That being said … if you're serious about that man, do me the favour and devise a strategy for when it becomes public knowledge."
"Wait, what?" Stiles stammered as he jerked upright again, the last cobwebs vanishing abruptly from his mind. A flush burned its way from his face to his chest.
His father rolled his eyes. "I wasn't born yesterday, kiddo. And you two aren't as subtle as you probably think you are. Even Dr Lee noticed something was going on between you. I'd be mad at Peter, but there's nothing I could say to him that he hasn't been telling himself already. Since he's so clever, I have to assume that he's just as gaga over you as you're over him and therefore useless at protecting both of your best interests."
"What are you trying to tell me?" Stiles asked in a small voice. "Are we in trouble?"
"You're not. Dr Lee believed me when I told him that I know about it and that the situation is under control. But that's why I'm telling you to be careful," the sheriff said firmly. "Peter and David should have a good talk about your situation, just to make sure all of our bases are covered. The trial against the Argents and Scott and the statutory rape laws in this state aren't going anywhere, no matter how much you might wish it were so. You two wouldn't need enemies to make this public if one well-meaning, concerned acquaintance can do the job."
Stiles buried his face in his hands. "Kill me now. I'm so sorry."
"Just don't be stupid," his father chided, standing from his chair. "If you two are that serious about each other, you'd better take painstaking steps to make it as above reproach as can be before your sordid friendship becomes Beacon Hills' newest gossip fodder."
A part of Stiles wanted to rail against his dad for pointing out the difficult parts of his relationship with Peter, but he knew that those were his affronted hormones speaking. Nothing had changed in the world; what had changed was his and Peter's understanding of this thing between them.
Hell, Stiles knew that parts of his brain were still developing and that he, therefore, couldn't be trusted to make sound decisions. He just wished that it translated into more patience.
"Don't stress yourself out," the sheriff said, softer now. "Just be on your guard. I don't want to see you hurt. You or Peter. Right now you're all doing so well so please don't go creating problems when we've already got enough of them."
"We'll try," Stiles murmured, swallowing.
His dad smiled. "I know you will. And for what it's worth, your mother probably would've been thrilled. Not with all the bloodshed, but that you've found so many good friends and even someone you like."
"Even with the age difference?" Stiles asked quietly.
"Even then," John said kindly. "You know that she was nine years younger than me. She'd have told you to be smart about it, but she'd have understood."
"Oh." The dark clouds on Stiles' mood lightened up considerably at hearing this, even as his heart squeezed unhappily at the reminder of her. "Do you think she'd have liked Peter?"
Stiles' father grimaced. "Probably far too much. She was a snarky little shit; you've got two-thirds of that from her, you know." He sighed. "We're okay, kiddo. I needed to warn you, but I'm in your corner. I do see how much it means to you."
"Thanks, dad," Stiles said softly.
"I'll head home and freshen up before going to the station. I could swing by and bring you some clothes?"
"I probably need them," Stiles agreed with a crooked smile, only to sober up again. "We're really good?"
"We are," his father confirmed. "I'll see you later. Take it easy today, and maybe have someone stand by, in case those two decide you make a good snack."
"They'd never," Stiles gasped in mock-outrage.
The sheriff smirked, waved, and took his leave.
As soon as he was gone from the apartment, Erica shifted and sleepily murmured, "We might. You smell a lot like Peter. It's nice." She happily wiggled even closer and smushed her face into the crook of Stiles' neck, inhaling deeply.
"How are you feeling?" Stiles asked, hugging her back.
"So good now," Erica whispered. "Thanks for fixing it."
"You're welcome. I just hope I'll never have to do that again. It was awful," Stiles replied. On his other side, Boyd also stirred. "Hey there, wakey-wakey."
"I was awake," Boyd rumbled after taking a few good sniffs himself. He stilled and cleared his throat. "Wow, that's new."
"You're feeling good if you're doing that," Stiles said, tickled. "Which is great!"
They spent a long while puppy-piling and Lou and the new wolf sparks made use of the mountain ash connection to romp around on everyone's skin. It made Erica giggle and Stiles squirm. Even Boyd, who was normally so taciturn, enjoyed the new closeness immensely. Their combined happiness was ramping up Stiles' own and he was able to let go of some of his worry regarding Peter.
Eventually, everyone needed the bathroom and a good shower and they slowly fought their way out of the nest. Since Boyd still wouldn't be separated from Erica for any length of time, Stiles let them use the bathrooms in Peter's apartment first. While they were getting cleaned up, he inspected the half-empty fridge and noshed on the few remaining leftovers from last night. The three senior werewolves in his life had obviously been hungry this morning.
"Good morning, sweetheart," Peter greeted, meandering closer just as Stiles was pressing the button for a cup of coffee. He easily gathered Stiles into his arms for a hug and a good scenting, finishing with a cocky little lick to Stiles' neck. "I don't dare for more after the talk you and your father just had."
Stiles grumbled, "I'll shake my fist at the heavens for the next nine months, dude."
Chuckling, Peter released him. "For fear of sounding like a lecherous old man, the rareness does make our alone time together more special."
"Cold comfort, man, cold comfort," Stiles huffed. He took his cup and cradled it in his hands, inhaling the divine aroma of the Vietnamese rum and butter roasted coffee beans Peter had put in the coffee maker. "What are we gonna do today?"
"First, breakfast for you, Erica, and Boyd," Peter said, easily slipping back into alpha mode. "And then we'll see what they feel up to doing. Erica might want to go see her parents. They left after breakfast to prepare their surprise for her."
"My dad told me that Derek's gone into the preserve. I take it he's working in his garden?" Stiles asked, taking a sip from his cup.
"Yes, and he took Isaac with him." Peter tilted his head. "Why are you asking?"
Stiles shrugged. "I thought that Erica and Boyd might like being outside after their turning. Maybe go for a run or something. I know that you and Isaac did that often back then."
"We have Derek's claim on the Hale property to consider," Peter said, "but if he's agreeable and Erica and Boyd want to go, I'm on board."
"Cool," Stiles beamed. "I should head home and pack a bag or something."
"Your father's already bringing you clothes, just text him what you need," Peter suggested. "In the meantime, relax and have breakfast. You still smell exhausted and probably expended a lot of energy last night."
"I finished off the leftovers," Stiles protested, "which means that I'll have to make it up to Erica."
"Your stomach is still gurgling," Peter pointed out. "I don't have to be a werewolf to hear that. Sit, drink your coffee, I'm making farmer's breakfast for you three."
A little sulkily, but mostly grateful, Stiles sat at the dining table. He was soon joined by Boyd, although the teen's attention was almost completely focused on listening to Erica's dealings in the bathroom.
Stiles found that a little creepy, but he did understand that his friends' shared trauma probably wouldn't allow for either of them to be easy without the other present for a while.
When Erica exited the bathroom, it was like the sun had come up. She nearly glowed, her skin completely free of blemishes and her gait as loose and comfortable as Stiles couldn't have imagined before her turning.
"You look amazing, Catwoman," he complimented, honestly stunned by her changed appearance.
Erica twirled to show off her short skirt and sleeveless blouse. "Thanks! I feel amazing, too." She pinched her side. "I swear that some of my flab melted off overnight."
Boyd held out his hand and tugged Erica onto his lap. "Morning, beautiful," he rumbled.
"What a morning," Erica grinned, nearly vibrating with happiness. She planted a long kiss on Boyd. "How are you feeling, babe?"
"Everything's good now," he replied, nuzzling her neck. "You wanna go into the preserve later?"
Erica didn't even pretend not to have listened in on Stiles' talk with Peter. Her red-lipped grin widened. "Sure, let's get dirty in Derek's garden and wash it off again later. But only after we've visited my parents. If there's a surprise, I wanna see it."
"Are we invited, or should we meet you in the garden?" Stiles asked.
"Are you serious right now?" Erica asked, leaning over and smacking a big red kiss onto Stiles' cheek. "Of course you're coming with us, Batman. Heck, why don't we invite everyone? If Lydia comes, we can be sure that there'll be loungers and snacks." She paused. "I didn't imagine Jackson holding my hand last night, did I?"
"He totally did," Stiles answered, feeling unexpectedly mushy at the memory. "That doesn't mean they feel like hanging out again so soon, but I'll ask." He took out his phone and started texting in the teen group chat Danny had created last evening.
Soon after, Peter placed heaping plates of food in front of them and laughingly accepted a bear hug from Boyd.
"It's weird, but it feels good," Boyd explained with a little shrug once he'd sat down again.
Erica took his place and clung to Peter like a limpet. "Really good. Like, you tried to explain during the negotiations but the reality is different." Just like she'd kissed Stiles, she also bussed Peter's cheek. "No offence, but you feel like a second dad now."
Smirking, Peter tugged on a lock of her hair. "Good, because Stiles reliably informed me that he doesn't share, even if our love needs to be chaste for now."
"You asshole," Stiles blurted, flushing. "But, true."
"Aw, poor Heather," Erica snickered. "Should I tell her?"
"Nah, I planned on meeting her soon anyway." Stiles looked worriedly at Peter. "That's still alright, isn't it?"
"I trust you with my heart, darling," Peter said, showing his teeth as he offered a shit-eating grin.
Boyd choked on his coffee and Erica laughed out loud at Stiles' scandalized expression.
End of chapter 80