Preface
With You, I BelongPosted originally on the Archive of Our Own at /works/11302614.
Rating:
Mature
Archive Warning:
Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category:
F/M, M/M
Fandom:
Teen Wolf (TV)
Relationship:
Deucalion/Stiles Stilinski, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Peter Hale/Sheriff Stilinski, Ennis/Kali (Teen Wolf), Aiden/Cora Hale
Character:
Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Peter Hale, Cora Hale, Gerard Argent, Deucalion (Teen Wolf), Ennis (Teen Wolf), Kali (Teen Wolf), Aiden (Teen Wolf), Ethan (Teen Wolf), The McCall Pack
Additional Tags:
Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Scenting, Scent Marking, Tags Contain Spoilers, Implied/Referenced Torture, Good Alpha Pack, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Age Difference, Stilinski Family Feels, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Trauma, Fluff and Angst, Stiles Stilinski is Part of the Alpha Pack, Pack Feels, Pack Bonding, Mates, Cuddling & Snuggling, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Developing Relationship, Murder, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Bad Friend Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Bad Alpha Derek Hale, Good Parent Sheriff Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Stiles Stilinski is Pushed Out of the Pack, May/December Relationship, Werewolf Bonds, Mating Bond, Kissing, Making Out, Intimacy, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Happy Ending
Series:
Part 1 of
Belonging
Stats:
Published: 2017-06-25 Completed: 2019-06-30 Chapters: 16/16 Words: 59717
With You, I Belong
by lavenderlotion
Summary
Despite Stiles doing all he can to help 'his' pack, they continue to toss him to the side. They undervalue and under appreciate him, and honestly, Stiles respects himself too much to let it continue.
So he leaves. Well, technically he's kicked out—but still.
But then the Alpha Pack shows up, and Deucalion is a constant presence by his side, and maybe, just maybe, they aren't all that evil after all.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack
Chapter Notes
Thank you to the lovely thegirlwhoknits! for beta'ing (and helping with constant brainstorming) this fic! Please see the end notes for warnings.
lovely art based of this fic:
stiles inspired mood board
deucalion inspired mood board
See the end of the chapter for more notes
The saddest part, in his own opinion, was that he didn't notice right away. He and Scott had already begun drifting apart, spending less and less time together until they were no longer ScottandStiles, and hardly even best friends. Then there was the Gerard incident, where his 'best friend' didn't think to ask about his black eye, or bruised ribs, or split lip. Scott never once noticed how much pain Stiles was in, even though he now had the ability to smell it—smell the still open cuts and the blood that sluggishly made its way through Stiles' half-assed bandaging job.
And not one person questioned him about where he had been during the Kanima incident. Instead, Jackson had joked about it, had joked that Stiles had just gotten scared and run off after all the lights went out.
But Stiles had never been afraid of the dark. He was afraid of monsters who hid behind human faces. He was scared of damaged teens and hunters and old men. It wasn't Peter in his Alpha form who tied him up, beat him, and then did worse just because 'your screaming is so pretty'. It wasn't Jackson, but the Kanima's master who made the decision to kill the mechanic and the police officers, to spread death wherever he pleased.
Stiles was scared of humans. They were always the ones behind the monster's mask, anyway.
The point was, he wasn't sure he could call Scott his friend any longer. It was late September in their junior year and there was the Alpha pack, someone going around killing people, and Stiles was trying to be okay with the fact that Scott had ignored him for most of the summer. The pack had been trying to find Boyd and Erica, and Stiles, being mostly human, couldn't just sniff them out.
He'd tried using his spark to help, but that didn't really work. He still hadn't been powerful enough to do much other than simple levitation and the manipulation of mountain ash, despite his constant efforts to better himself. It was a slow, strenuous process that often left Stiles rung out and dry-heaving into his toilet. It was neither fun nor all that productive, but working himself to the point where he passed out on the cool tile floor of his bathroom at least made him feel like he was doing something.
It didn't seem to matter how hard he was trying, because he hadn't even seen Scott since the night he was kidnapped and his entire life changed. The other boy suddenly had other, more important priorities. The pack was busy and Stiles understood that, understood that there was only so much he could do given his humanity, something the others weren't held back by. He was holding out hope that Scott would fix everything, that it would all go back to normal.
He'd always been particularly naive when it came to the things he put hope into.
School started back up and suddenly Scott was sitting with the pack everyday, with all of them. Stiles quickly found that the pack table no longer held a spot for him, as though he'd been forgotten. It didn't seem to matter that he'd been training his spark, practicing to become their Emissary. It wasn't as though he hadn't been working himself to the point of exhaustion nearly each day that summer so that he could be faster, and stronger, and better. He hadn't even the chance to prove himself.
Apparently, they didn't care.
So he walked away. He walked away and tried to ignore how alone he felt. It—it could have been worse; he could have truly had no one. He had his dad again, something he would forever be thankful for. Finding the man passed out drunk after school had been so horribly reminiscent of the period of grief and longing after his mother's death that for a horrible moment he was terrified. He'd done all he could do at the time: helped the man up to bed and poured out the rest of the liquor.
The next morning, he broke. He told his dad everything he could, everything he had needed to for so long. He couldn't risk losing his only parent over something as simple as the truth, so Stiles told him everything. He started with the Hale fire, laying out all the information he could in hopes that his solid knowledge of the act would convince his father that what he was saying was the truth.
That night he'd curled up in his father's bed, breathing in his dad —gun oil and Old Spice and safety —and cuddled close, sleeping in the same bed for the first time since he was ten and his mother had first gotten sick.
Once his dad knew, their relationship very quickly reverted to the way it had been before—dependable and strong. For so long they had been close, just the two of them against the world. Especially after his dad had dug himself out of the bottle and they'd been closer than ever, holding tight after nearly losing one another. The space between them had only begun widening when Scott got bit, when Stiles had to lock away an entire part of his life for his father's safety, and it had clearly weighed on them.
Now... now Stiles felt light.
He once again spent long afternoons at the station, curling up on the couch his father kept in his office, or wandering the halls, checking in with the deputies who were still alive. The station was still a place of comfort, still felt like home whenever he walked through the front doors. The bitter smell of burnt coffee was once again a constant in his life. This station had once kept him alive—the year after his mother died, Stiles had been taken care of by these people, when his father was still too broken to do so—and it did so again.
It had felt good to be back. Right. But that comfort did nothing against the alienation of the pack.
For the first month of school Stiles spent nearly all his free time researching. Derek had said they didn't know anything about the 'Alpha Pack,' so Stiles made it a point to find out everything that he could. If he couldn't help with sniffing out Erica and Boyd, he would sure as hell make sure that he was doing something. He wouldn't let them call him useless again. He wouldn't let them discredit him as 'only human.'
So he looked into everything he could: he called packs in the area, made a map of places the Alpha pack had traveled to, and put together a timeline of basic information. He talked to Peter and Chris (he's not Gerard, he's not Gerard, he is not Gerard), and only ever met either man in highly populated, public places. He wasn't paranoid, but he would never set foot in the Argents' home again.
Stiles still had nightmares.
Even now, four months later, he woke screaming and thrashing and needing help that he never got. On the nights his dad was home, the man would hold him tight against his chest as he cried. It... helped. His father smelt like safety, and the shape of his arms around him was familiar enough that it kept the memories at bay, whereas the darkness allowed them to creep in and take hold.
He still didn't sleep nearly enough, but it was far better than those first few weeks when he would wake sobbing, nails digging into his skin as he clawed away Gerard's touch, all while fighting with himself to push down the bile that always rose in his throat.
It was better now, with his dad, and some nights he was able to fall back asleep. The nights he couldn't, he continued his research. Learning to navigate the supernatural world came surprisingly easy after a little practice. First, he had mapped out everywhere the Alpha Pack had been seen for the last few years. They moved around often, visiting different territories seemingly at random. Sometimes they stayed and made 'peaceful' treaties, other times they wiped out entire packs.
Soon enough he knew who each member was, where they came from, and what they'd been through. He ranked how deadly they were, the way they fought, and how to best them. In three weeks he'd gathered so much research on the pack he felt as though he personally knew them. It was something he could take to Derek and say, "I did this, I hold value, let me into your fucking pack."
He was trying. Even if he couldn't find his missing packmates, he could sure as hell still be useful and show that his humanity did not make him worth less .
He was probably killing himself, letting his body waste away and working it to the point of insanity, but.. he didn't care. He didn't care that sometimes he got dizzy when standing, or sometimes his vision would turn blurry. He was helping. In his way.
That's what he'd thought, anyway, until a Tuesday night near the end of September. He had just visited his mother's grave, alone. It was something he'd never done by himself, always readily accompanied by Scott. The first few years Scott had to set the flowers into the vase himself, Stiles' hand shaking too violently for him to do it. The first time he was able to, Scott held him as Stiles sobbed into his shirt.
Scott had always been by his side when Stiles needed him. And he did need Scott. Even if they were now hardly friends, let alone anything resembling brothers, he still needed him. Even if it was only Melissa he received a text from, the other boy apparently having forgotten. Stiles still needed Scott and perhaps always would.
If nothing else, Stiles at least needed him one day of the year.
But Scott wasn't there, so instead of going home to an empty house and old memories and suffocating silence, he grabbed his folder full of three weeks of research and headed to Derek's loft.
Stiles took a deep, calming breath. The stairs had been a little too much, and he was gasping for air, his chest burning and his stomach painfully empty. He wanted to throw up from the exertion, his body physically rebelling against moving further for a few moments. He knew it had been a long time since he'd eaten, maybe even longer since he'd slept, but he hadn't quite realized just how long until this moment.
When he was able to walk, he knocked on the large metal door of the loft before pulling it open. He called out Derek's name as he stepped through the entryway, stopping abruptly when he looked up. He wasn't sure what he was expecting, really.
It wasn't this.
None of Derek's previous hideouts had been anything even remotely habitable, but this place wasn't awful. What made him stop wasn't the three couches or the furnished kitchen, but... the pack. The entire pack was there, sitting inside what had to be the 'living room'. Derek was in an armchair on his own; Scott, Allison and Isaac were curled up together on a couch; Lydia and Jackson on a loveseat; and Peter—alone, head down—was on the stairs.
Stiles was absolutely taken aback.
Not only had Scott forgotten what fucking day it was, but he was here . He was with his pack and clearly this pack was more important than his brother, or else Scott would have been with Stiles when he laid fresh flowers on his mother's grave. Stiles had known they'd all gotten closer, hadn't been ignorant to their growing friendship, but Stiles hadn't realized it was like this.
He hadn't realized it was... fucking movie nights, or cuddling close on the couch. Sharing spaces outside of class and choosing to spend time together. He hadn't realized it was more than finding their missing packmates, more than instincts or survival taking over to group them together, gather their strength and keep it close.
He hadn't realized it was this.
Stiles tried to swallow down the bile that was rising in his throat and tried to choke back the angry sob he wanted to let out. Instead, he squared his shoulders and cleared his throat, throwing the most murderous glare he could muster at Scott before turning back to Derek. "I have some pretty useful information."
"Is it about Erica and Boyd?" Derek asked, his words clipped and short.
"No, but you should look a—"
"I don't need you wasting my time, Stiles," Derek said. He sounded put upon, as though dealing with Stiles was the most exhausting thing one could do in a day.
"Look, you should seriously read thi—"
"Dude, why are you even here?" Jackson asked from his spot beside Lydia, sneering at Stiles.
"I've been doing a lot of research, and I really fou—"
"Well can you leave?" Jackson snapped, tone all too familiar as he cut him off again. The boy had bullied Stiles for years, and it apparently never stopped.
"Derek, ca—."
"This is a pack meeting." Isaac cut in, looking about as revolted with Stiles' presence as Jackson did. "You need to leave."
What hurt the most was that no one argued. Not Allison, who he had been nothing but nice to. Not Derek, whose life he had saved—holding him afloat in a swimming pool for hours —when it would have been easier to leave him for dead. Not Lydia, who he had seen before anyone else, recognizing her for the value she truly held. Not Isaac, the boy who Stiles had been offering his help to for years because no one else saw the bruises or the twitching of his fingers—no, not Isaac, as he was the one telling him to leave.
And not... not Scott. His brother, his best friend for so long . He'd been the one person Stiles always knew he would have, right after his dad. Scott had been so much to him, had meant so much to him, that Stiles often hadn't known how to articulate it. And Stiles had always thought their bond went both ways. Now, he's never felt more wrong.
It makes something bright and hot flare in his chest. He's not sure if he wants to cry or yell in indignation, but he's furious. He's furious because he gave himself to this pack, far more intimately than he ever would have liked. He was taken by Gerard because of this pack. Taken and tied up and, and—and more than Stiles is willing to think about. These people took so much from him, much more than he was ever willing to give for them.
And he knows better. He knows that he doesn't deserve this, that he deserves far more. He doesn't deserve to be looked down on or to be treated as though he is lesser. Insignificant. He has done too much for them, from the beginning. He had killed Peter for them, took a life for most of the people in this room, and he was still thrown aside.
And then he had kept giving. He gave his relationship with his father, his energy, his time. He had given all that he was, letting them use him whenever needed. Then he had learned magic, pushed his body to the point of breaking only to toy with the edge, nearly falling over. And he had gotten nothing in return.
It feels a little like heartbreak.
But he wouldn't show them weakness. Not when they're no longer on his side. He held it in, squared his shoulders and stamped down hard on his magic where it was soaring high in his chest, bright and wonderful, his control so much better than it once was. He was a flurry of betrayal, of anger and hurt and abandonment, and his magic wanted to strike out in response.
But he didn't let it show. He couldn't. He marched to Peter, the only person looking at least a little annoyed at Stiles' treatment. In fact, he looked quite murderous, and Stiles was silently thankful. Thankful that he had someone. He didn't even mind that it was Peter of all people; hell, Stiles secretly liked the man.
It helped that he found Peter almost completely justified for what he'd done. Sometimes you run out of options. Sometimes things are no longer black and white, and the world often exists in brilliant shades of grey. He could understand where the man came from, after having his entire family ripped away from him so violently. If someone killed his father he would burn the world down in his fury.
So he walked towards Peter, as calmly as he could with his blood boiling and his magic raging, and handed the man the thick folder he'd brought with him.
"This is the Alpha Pack. Who they are, what they do, how they fight and what they want from us. It's everything on them," Stiles told him. His voice was low and weak but Peter still heard. Sure, the rest of the pack did too, but he couldn't bring himself to care.
"You are quite the wonder, little spark," Peter said, and maybe Stiles shouldn't be as flattered as he was by the compliment, but a flush settled across his cheeks. He knew Peter didn't waste words or throw around empty compliments, and that that meant the man's words were genuine. He didn't even question how Peter knew about his magic. For all Stiles knew, the man could have smelled it.
"Is your father going to be home this evening?"
"Uh no?" Stiles said, voice tilting at the end in question.
"You shouldn't be alone with your grief, especially after what happened with them." Peter's voice was low, giving Stiles the illusion of privacy even though he knew it was false. Stiles did snort, however, when Peter spit out the last word like it tasted bad.
"I'll be okay," Stiles told him with a small smile, having to bite his lip to stop himself from beaming. He, frankly, had no idea how Peter knew what today was, but it meant more than he could express, though he tried anyway.
"Thank you." And maybe Peter understood what he meant, because the man offered him a small smile and a nod, looking down to the folder in his hands and already beginning to flip through it.
Then, like everyone seemed to want, Stiles left.
He didn't do more than take shallow breaths until after he'd driven away. He still felt too raw, his emotions running their course. Thunder rumbled overhead. Lightning flashed and struck beside his Jeep, bright white, and he slammed his brakes, skidding to a stop. He breathed deeply, watching in fascination as lightning struck again, his headlights shining bright onto the now-burned patch of grass in front of him.
And then—and then Stiles screamed. He let out all of his fury, all of his hurt. He yelled until his throat was raw, his chest heaving with the air he was pulling in. Thunder rumbled once again, louder and longer than he'd ever heard before. The rain slowed, slowly tapering until it was nothing more than a light shower, the gentle tap-tap helping to calm his heartbeat.
He breathed deeply again, looking at his phone when it pinged. He opened it to a text from Peter, and the words made his gut twist in pleasure, the praise of the words making him feel high. You are miraculous. stared back at him, and it felt warm, the same way his father's arms did when he was held close, how his mother's praise used to feel. He smiled, infinitely thankful that he seemed to have this man on his side even if he had no one else.
Stiles turned his keys, fingers still shaking around his steering wheel as the familiar drain that came with using magic slowly began to settle in his bones. He was thankful the loft was close, even though he still had to focus hard on the drive home. When he finally arrived, he made his way to his room and collapsed onto his bed nearly immediately, thankful his father appeared to be home and asleep—the bottle of whisky still more than half full where it sat in the kitchen.
Stiles' head hit the pillow, and blessedly, sleep took him.
Chapter End Notes
Warning: Mention of rape.
It'll Be Okay
That night Stiles went home feeling more alone than he had since his father fell into a bottle.
And it wasn't true. He knew he wasn't nearly as alone as he was then, reeling from the loss of his mother and dealing with the abandonment of his father. It was much worse then. But it was easy to compare the hollow feeling in his chest, how tight his ribcage felt, like there was no way he could possibly contain so much hurt. It still felt like heartbreak.
It was better when he thought about his dad, even if there was a mix of feelings there. Stiles had him, again, his father firmly in his corner, and he knew the man wasn't going anywhere. It was refreshing to be so sure about their relationship after the last year. He'd been so sure he would lose his dad completely by telling him about the supernatural, but all telling his dad has done was bring them even closer together. Their relationship once again had a foundation of trust and honesty and it was even stronger than it had ever been before.
There was Peter, too. Stiles was still a little surprised that the wolf was so kind to him, that the man had accepted his research without question—not to mention the compliments he'd been paid. He hadn't been around much since Peter came back; in fact he'd only seen the man a handful of times around town since he resurrected himself.
But Stiles thought about the way Peter was sitting in the loft, blatantly away from everyone else, and it didn't seem like anybody was making an effort to get him closer. The man might honestly be just as lonely as Stiles. Stiles wasn't sure about Derek, but he knew Scott—and in turn the rest of the teenaged wolves—wouldn't be quick to forgive.
Even knowing he had the two men in his corner didn't drive out how empty he felt, like something inside of him had been stolen away. It was probably the barely-there pack bonds he used to have. Although he'd never noticed them when he had them, he was surely noticing the absence of them.
It hurt. The pain of them crumbling away left him gasping for breath where he was curled up on his bed, cocooned in his blankets. He hadn't bothered getting undressed, just fell onto his bed and rolled the blankets tight around his body before curling up into a tight ball and letting himself weep. He felt helpless and weak, tiny and small and beyond insignificant. He wouldn't be able to pretend that he and Scott were fine anymore, not after last night.
He'd cried until he fell asleep, letting all that he had pushed away for so long come to the surface. He cried for the pack that no longer cared for him, maybe never cared for him. It was a familiar feeling, one he remembered from when he was thirteen and his father was at work, again, and he had to make dinner for himself, again, and put himself to bed, again. He felt like he did when it had been so long since his father last hugged him he could no longer remember the last time it happened.
Stiles cried for the friends he'd thought he had, but for himself, too. Not a day went by that he forgot what Gerard took from him in the name of the pack, that he forgot what he'd lost. He didn't think he'd ever forget, and the pack doesn't even know—they have no idea how much Stiles had truly given for them.
He was no longer untouched, no longer clean . He felt dirty, sullied by what the man did, by what he took.
And he wasn't even sure whether he blamed the pack or not. He knew that it would be unfair to do so, especially when he had Gerard to focus his anger on. It was just... it was just that they never even cared enough to check, never tried to make sure he was okay. It was that no one came . It was that Allison was there and knew —to some extent—and let it happen. It was that the man was still alive, and Stiles had no idea how he was supposed to feel safe, knowing that.
But he also didn't know what to do about it. He didn't know what to do without a brother or an Alpha or any friends. So he cried, letting himself get out as much of the hurt he was feeling as he could, and hoped that in the morning he'd be able to breathe easier.
Hoped that in the morning, maybe he wouldn't care as much.
When Stiles finally woke, he had one blissful moment in which he was still trying to shake his dream. It had been him and his dad at a Mets game, and he woke up still smiling. The grin on his face fell once he was coherent enough to realize he was only wearing one shoe, that his jeans were halfway down his thighs, and his eyes were still sore from crying.
He stumbled out of his bed, tripping on the comforter and shoving off his jeans. He made it to the bathroom but didn't quite manage to remove his shirt or underwear before stepping under the spray of his shower, chest still feeling too tight to bother undressing. He didn't want to think about it. It was still too fresh; his heart felt entirely too heavy as he hung his head under the spray.
He could still feel the void where his pack bonds once sat—weak and barely there, but real. Now that they were gone, the loss was jarring. Stiles just felt lucky that he was a Spark. He couldn't even imagine what that hollowness would feel if he had been a wolf, or any other kind of pack-orientated were. Couldn't imagine what would have happened if the pack bonds had been stronger, had been more than just fickle things he hardly felt.
It was the first time he'd been truly thankful for his humanity.
Stiles choked back a sob, letting himself drop in the shower until he was sitting under the spray. He pulled off his shirt and one sock, letting the steady thrum of water against the back of his neck lull him into a soft calm. He was hurting, fuck was he hurting. He wasn't sure how to make it stop, how to lessen the tightness in his chest.
It just hurt. He knew it was stupid to let a group of people have so much power over him, especially a group who didn't care for him, who had tossed him aside so carelessly. Before he could talk himself out of it, a knock sounded at the door, his father's soft voice asking if he was alright. It helped to settle him, just a little, to know his dad was right outside the door.
So he held in a whimper and stood instead, wrapping himself in a towel and placing his soaked clothes in the sink. He opened the door slowly, watching as the wall of steam rushed out of the bathroom and towards his father where the man stood just outside the door. He was in a new uniform, shirt still unbuttoned over his white tank. He looked tired, but he had a small smile on his face.
Stiles fell into him.
The first sob was a surprise, because he hadn't expected to start crying, at least not then. His father just held him close, not even asking what was wrong but offering him support nonetheless. He loved the man for it, for the endless support he had shown since finding about the supernatural. Stiles still has no idea why he ever worried so much, how he ever thought his father would be anything but accepting.
So he let himself cry for another few, long minutes, his father smelling like Old Spice and gun oil and home. It was so familiar that it was beyond comforting, and just the man's scent alone helped to calm him down. The soothing circles rubbed into his back helping him get his breath under control, and Stiles was endlessly thankful.
Stiles stayed like that longer than he needed to, letting his father's hold bring him comfort. He felt too small, too young. He hadn't needed to be held like this for so long, not since his father stopped drinking and Stiles would have panic attacks about him starting up again, terrified his father would choose to leave him once more.
It was nice, though. His father was warm, and he was still tall enough for Stiles to tuck himself against the man's chest. If he had to curl his spine a little to place his head under his dad's chin, it was fine. It was about feeling safe, protected. It was exactly what he needed right now, and thankfully his father made no move to stop him.
Stiles wasn't sure what he wanted to tell his dad, but in the end he went with everything. He knew that he couldn't go back to lying, even if this particular hurt he wanted to keep close to his chest, at least for a little bit longer. Stiles knew that keeping this a secret would just push them back into old habits and that was something Stiles knew he didn't want to happen.
So he told him in starts and stops. His heart ached and his throat felt raw. He had to stop to cry, so many times, but he managed to explain exactly what had happened the night prior. And he was honest. So honest it hurt. So much more honest than he wanted to be. For the first time he told his dad about how he'd gone to meet up with Argent and Peter, if only to explain how nice Peter had been to him at the loft.
He could tell his dad was angry. The pack may not have seen how much of himself Stiles was putting into the pack, but his dad did. His dad saw everything. Every nightmare. Every afternoon where Stiles passed out in the bathroom after dry heaving into the toilet. He saw all the meals Stiles hadn't been able to eat and all the time she'd panicked, and he'd...
He'd been there. For everything. And he was there then, as Stiles laid his heart bare and let himself feel the pack's betrayal as he told his dad what they said to him.
And then, worst of all, he told him about Scott.
"Stiles I'm... I'm so sorry, kiddo," Dad choked out, when Stiles was finally done. Stiles was already shaking his head, reassurances on the tip of his tongue, but one look from Dad shut him right up. "I don't want to hear it. Even with Scott, I shouldn't have left you alone yesterday and... Stiles, I'm so sorry."
Stiles nodded, but there was nothing for him to say. Nothing that would matter, that would make any of it better. He knew the look in his dad's eyes and he knew, just from that, that he would never have to be alone again.
Something that felt impossibly like a pack bond warme the empty, hollow space in his chest as Dad hugged him close. Dad held him tightly, and Stiles clinged to him just as desperately. He had no idea what he was going to do, but... he knew he had his dad. He was about to pull back, already thinking up a joke he could make to try to deflect all the feelings built up between them when...
The doorbell rang.
Peter Hale waltzed past Stiles and into his home without so much as a 'by your leave.' The Spark wasn't exactly sure why that surprised him, since it was Peter and really one could ask why Peter did anything. Still, Stiles was left looking at the open door with something akin to shock on his face, hand still fisted around the doorknob where he had pulled it open just enough for the wolf to slip his way in.
The sound of his dad's laugh surprised him enough that he snapped back to the present, closing the door and slowly making his way down the hall. His dad was leaning against the counter, head thrown back as he chuckled at something the wolf said. The same wolf who seemed to be blushing, if the slight tint high on his cheeks was anything to go by. Stiles decided that seven-thirty was far too early to deal with that, and instead zeroed in on the grease-stained paper bag sitting on his counter.
"Son, Peter brought coffee and doughnuts," his dad told him, still smiling. And yep, that was totally a blush on Peter's face.
"I didn't realize you two knew each other?" Stiles asked, subtly trying to pry while grabbing his coffee. If the glare Peter threw his way was anything to go by, he was failing at being subtle.
"Oh we do," his dad told him, grabbing the bag of greasy doughnuts before Stiles could steal them away. "When I was just a deputy and Peter was in his teens, he used to get in a lot of trouble."
"Oh now, now, I would hardly say a lot of trouble," the man drawled, flashing a smile to John. "None of the charges ever stuck, after all."
Which, for some reason made his dad blush, and that was about all Stiles could take. He crossed his arms and turned to Peter head-on, looking as unamused as he possibly could while asking, "What are you doing here, Peter?"
"Well, I came by to check on you," Peter answered, continuing at the quirk of Stiles' brow, "No, really. You are the closest thing I have to pack, Stiles, and I intend to make sure our bond stays strong."
Stiles calmed at that, sending the man a small smile and taking a sip of the offered coffee, moaning at the sweetness of his usual order. "I also wanted to compliment your work, Stiles. Your research was wonderful, and I can only imagine how much you went through to get it."
Stiles flushed at that, grinning happily even as his dad muttered, "Far too much."
He sent the man a glare, because yeah, now he knew that he put way too much energy into a pack that didn't deserve it, but that didn't mean he felt like that at the time, and his father's 'subtle' digs were really only just bringing up the hurt feelings that Stiles was trying to ignore. He settled at the island's counter, sitting on the bar stool next to Peter, and found he couldn't be too annoyed with his dad being protective.
"How did you get all of it?" the wolf asked, and Stiles sighed heavily.
"Let's just say it was a lot of fucking work," Stiles muttered, letting his spark hum under his skin and pulling it a little closer to the surface, sucking up the comfort that the action brought. "I have contacted so many packs I couldn't even tell you the number. I have no idea how many Alphas I've spoken to in the last month. I took everything they told me, cross-checked it, and put it all together. If a certain piece of information didn't check out from at least three sources, I didn't trust it."
Peter nodded, his eyebrows drawn together as he considered. "Alright, but there's information in there that werewolves wouldn't have. There are four pages detailing how the wolves fight, in such bland, technical terms that there's no way the information could have came from a wolf."
"I didn't just talk to wolves," Stiles admitted, breathing out a long sigh. "I talked to hunters, and other supernaturals. I also talked to a few witches; got in contact with some old and established covens."
"Wait, what's this about other witches? I thought you said letting anyone know about your magic could be dangerous?" John asked, leaning forward on the counter and raising a brow.
"Yeah, and I didn't. C'mon Dad, you didn't think I was selling so many extra essays for lunch money?"
"Stiles, did yo—"
"Did you buy information from a witch coven?" Peter all but screeched, reeling back in his chair as if the idea actually burned him. And really, all Stiles could do was nod.
He knew it could have been bad. He'd read books and heard stories about Witch covens. They weren't exactly... nice. They didn't do favours and they certainly didn't help anyone out of the kindness of their hearts. Hell, oftentimes they didn't even communicate with the supernatural community as a whole. Witches were incredibly solitary beings, always on their own save for their coven.
And then there were the covens themselves. Not things to get mixed up with, that was for damn sure. They were dangerous and selfish, and usually just cared for power. Witches on their own? Usually no problem. Witches in a coven, watch the fuck out.
"You, my dear boy, are wonderfully reckless," Peter said, squeezing the back of the Stiles' neck before sipping his coffee. "I am absolutely impressed."
Stiles smiled slightly, flushing a little under the praise. He was still grinning when he caught sight of the time. If he didn't head for school soon he'd be late, and he wasn't about to show any bit of weakness to his old pack. So he bounced to his feet, glad Dad had guided him through getting dressed, and he stole the greasy bag of doughnuts from in front of his dad as he pressed a kiss to the man's cheek. He quickly stopped in front of Peter and let the wolf rub his chin against Stiles' neck, and Stiles nuzzled the top of Peter's head in response.
Reluctantly he walked out of the house, leaving his dad alone with Peter to continue their reminiscing—since apparently they were old friends? With an incredibly put-upon sigh, one that Peter surely would be able to hear all the way inside, Stiles climbed into the front seat of his Jeep and let his head rest against the steering wheel for a moment. He was fine. He was totally fine and he could totally do this. If the pack didn't want him anymore, then fuck them.
Throwing his jeep in reverse, Stiles pulled out of his driveway, letting out another long-suffering sigh when he realized he forgot his coffee.
My Nephew Is An Idiot
On a normal day, Stiles would be fine with forgetting his coffee. It wouldn't matter nearly so much as it did today. But today he was exhausted, and he honestly wasn't sure that he'd physically be able to make it through his day without a caffeine fix. He was expecting it to be awful but... Stiles wasn't sure what today was even going to be like.
It was a Wednesday, only midway through the week, and Stiles couldn't remember the last time he'd been this tired. Even right after everything with Gerard, when he was unable to sleep more than an hour at a time before he was waking up with a scream, kicking and crying out for the man to get off him, he hadn't been this exhausted. Today, he felt tired in his bones.
So instead of heading straight to school like he should, he stopped for a coffee. A big coffee. Beacon Hills Brews was one of his favourite places in town. The owner was a small elderly lady who currently had blue hair, and she was probably Stiles' favourite person. She was awesome.
She used to make Stiles special hot chocolate, topped with so much whipped cream that he'd have to eat some with a spoon before he could even think of taking a proper sip, way back when his mom was still around. Now, he came for the cheap coffee and lived for the hipster-y, college-esque vibe that the place had.
Not that Beacon Hills even had a hipster or college student demographic, but if they had, this was where they would get their coffee.
He was in and out much faster than he planned to be, so he drove a little under the speed limit the rest of the way to school. It wasn't so much that he was scared of the pack, because he... wasn't scared of them. He was secure in his ability to protect himself, especially with the wolfsbane he had in his pocket.
His spark was getting stronger. Telling his father about the supernatural had released a huge weight from his shoulders. The guilt had been weighing on him so heavily for so long that he had just gotten used to it, and he hadn't realized just how crippling it had been until it was gone. These last few weeks he'd felt lighter than he had in years, even before the supernatural came into his life, even if he was still working himself into exhaustion.
Ever since he told his dad, his magic had been more... receptive. Without the added stress of lying to his only family, he was able to focus more on his magic. The simple exercises that used to exhaust him now came with ease.
He was especially good at forming mountain ash circles. And sure he couldn't do anything else, but it was still a small victory.
And because he was able to perform even that small fear of magic, he wasn't scared of the pack doing anything. He could feel his spark shining brightly inside his chest, and while he knew he might not be able to do much, not yet, it was still there: the potential. Besides, the pack was made up of baby wolves who could hardly control their own shift. The only members he was actually scared of were Allison and maybe, maybe Derek.
It was more that he was worried about seeing everyone. Everything he'd done on a day-to-day basis was a product of the pack. He'd orbited around them, despite having been an omega for much longer than he was willing to admit. It wasn't that he spent an ample amount of time with them, because he didn't, not anymore; he didn't sit with them at lunch, or walk with them in the halls, and he didn't text them or call them or talk to them. It was that he cared for them and they...
They hadn't cared about him.
He'd lost them long ago, and he could only now admit that to himself. But admitting that he no longer had the pack meant admitting that he no longer had friends. He had lost more than half the people he cared about all in one night. He did have his dad, and after this morning he was secure in the knowledge that he had Peter, too but... it just—it hurt.
And for so long all of his free time had been devoted to them. Whether it was pushing himself to be better—to better himself physically or to improve his magic—or endlessly researching for them, it had all been for the pack. He didn't know what to do now that he'd given up, now that he no longer had something to put all his focus into.
He found it daunting, to be so unsure of his time.
With a sigh, he pulled into the school parking lot. For the first time since junior year, he didn't have to worry about meeting up with Scott at the large oak tree near the front steps. Even though Scott hadn't been there since the school year started, Stiles had made sure to always be there, just in a case. There has always been a small part of him hoping that the other boy would show up.
Like he said, he's always been naive.
He took his time walking up the front steps. Normally he would be rushing, having waited until the last moment for Scott to show. Today he walked calmly down the hall, taking his time at his locker. Without the constant presence of the pack looming over him, the constant stress that had always been right there hanging around the edge of his consciousness, he felt calmer and more grounded.
He did his best to saunter into his first-period class, though he honestly wasn't sure what he looked like. He was hoping he projected "I'm doing so much better now that you're not in my life, look at me be amazing," but he could very well look like an idiot. Still, he didn't glance at any of his previous pack, ignoring the no-longer-empty seat next to Scott and instead sitting down next to a girl named Jane. She always smiled at him when they caught each other's eyes in the hallway, which was definitely a better reaction than he got from most people.
It beat sitting alone, anyway.
"So I hear you're getting a ninety-three in this class?" Stiles asked, angling his body towards her and putting on the most cheerful smile he could muster.
"Yes?" she asked, the corners of her mouth twisting down.
"Nice! I'm getting an eighty-nine but mostly because Harris is a dick," he told her, because he knew last year Greenberg sat beside her just to get a better grade, and he didn't want her thinking that he'd do the same. "Can I sit here?"
"Why?" she asked, her eyes going wide as she glanced over to where Scott was glaring at them.
"Scott was a bad dog and I'm punishing him by making sure he can't copy all my answers anymore," Stiles said with fake cheer. He didn't mention that he hadn't sat beside Scott once this year, or that he hadn't been welcome too.
Instead he used humour to deflect, and was thankful that she laughed.
"Usually when my boyfriend acts up I just stop putting out until he smarten up, but I guess that doesn't really work with best friends, huh?"
"You never know," he said, waggling his eyebrows as she laughed again, only turning to the front when Harris started speaking.
He took a huge sip of his coffee and smiled innocently at the dark look his teacher sent him, and prepared for a long period.
After that, chemistry really wasn't too bad.
Lunch... well.
At lunch, nothing had changed. He still didn't have a seat at the pack table, but instead of the usual twisting of his gut and stinging in his eyes when he saw them all grouped together without a spot for him, he just walked out. Of course it still hurt, but the pain was already beginning to dull. What had only last night felt like a gaping hole in his chest, was now hardly more than a little pulse of hurt.
It helped that ever since Peter stopped by this morning there had been a warm thread of a pack bond settled neatly next to his spark, beside the warm glow of the bond with his dad. It was still tentative and weak, but it was something. Something real and solid that he could focus on when he needed it. It helped, knowing that the man was his pack, that he still had a pack, even if it was two old people.
No way was he going to pant after his ex-pack like some pathetic lapdog. He was better than that. If nothing else, he knew that he was better than that. If they didn't want him, he wouldn't want them either. He would stop showing them that he cared, if they didn't care about him back. He was sure that up until now, he probably stank of hurt and abandonment, but not anymore. He wasn't going to sit at the back of the cafeteria and stare longingly at his 'friends.'
Instead, he made his way to the line of the preserve. He only needed to walk for a moment before the trees were thick enough to hide him from any curious eyes. He sat himself on the forest floor, letting his spark rise bright in his chest. He could tell the bond with Peter was helping to stabilize his magic somewhat, and watched inwardly as his spark twined around the soft thread and pushed , turning it into something stronger, sturdier.
He felt joy flood into his chest, in the same place the bond sat, and knew it was from Peter. The man felt like warmth the same way his father did, and right now, letting their connection wash over him felt just as good as any hug he had ever received from his dad. He laughed softly, smiling widely as he poked at their connection, rejoicing when he felt the man poke back gently.
Peter could interact with the bond in a way that his dad would never be able to, and Stiles hadn't realized it could feel like this.
Stiles focused more on his spark after that, pulling it right under his skin and letting it hum under his fingertips. He had never been able to see it so clearly before, never been able to access so much of his magic at one time. This was even better than the bright light of potential that sat in his chest, and he laughed loudly as he urged his magic to glow under his skin and watched as he lit up the foliage around him.
Stiles was overjoyed when the last bell rang. He was even more overjoyed because he had economics last period, so he didn't have to search Coach out. He made his way up to the man's desk, waiting for the rest of the class to head out before approaching him. He liked Coach. Sure, he was loud and rude, but he had a level of sarcasm that rivalled Peter's, and that was saying something.
"What do you want, Bilinski?" Coach barked, his eyes softening his harsh tone.
"Well, I would like to drop lacrosse," Stiles said firmly, even with the way his heart was racing.
It was something he'd been thinking of even last year, even when he and Scott were still friends. Back when they were still close, he hadn't been able to bring himself to actually leave, but now that they weren't... Stiles had no reason to stay.
"Why in the hell would you wanna do that, Bilinski?"
Stiles cringed a little, because if Finstock was anything, he was loud. "Uh, well, I was really only on the team for Scott, and uh, I'm not exactly good? At all? Like, I scored one goal last year... should I ever be on the team?"
"Ah, I see! Well, why didn't you say that, Bilinski? You know you're my favourite student, don't ya? I mean, male circumcision! Hah! Taught me a thing or two about my own manhood with that essay," his teacher announced, and it made Stiles' heart feel warm to hear praise for something so many others had made fun of him for.
It wasn't a secret that Stiles was often disliked by his teachers, and it definitely wasn't uncommon for them to treat him unfairly based on their personal feelings. It was annoying, sure, but Stiles was used to it. Other students didn't like him and teachers didn't like him. It was just... well, that was just part of school, for Stiles.
"Thanks, Coach," Stiles said, voice a little softer than he meant for it to be.
"Good, good. Now leave before I have to see you cry! I hate it when kids cry!"
Stiles just smiled warmly, leaving the room with a soft laugh.
Things continued much the same way for the following two weeks. He laughed easily with Jane during chemistry and was glad to see he could make friends outside of the pack. He traded jokes with Coach in the hallways, and because he didn't have lacrosse practice to go to, he got to spend more time with Peter and his dad. He meditated almost every day during lunch, hidden out in the preserve, and his spark continued to grow stronger, strengthening as he used it more.
He didn't let how the pack pushed him away dictate how he lived his life. He'd let them control what he did for too long, and he refused to let it continue.
On the days he knew that Scott wasn't working, Stiles snuck into Deaton's office to 'borrow' more books. The druid knew what he was doing, but he didn't say anything as long as Stiles brought them back in the same condition in which they were taken. Along with that, he started putting himself out into the magical community in San Francisco. It wasn't too long of a drive to make, and he did so both weekends, cautiously putting his name out there.
He didn't tell anyone he was a Spark, seeing as he really didn't need that kind of attention. Instead, he let the shop owners think he was just another witch who'd recently come into their magic. It was much safer that way, and Peter only confirmed his worries when Stiles asked him about it. He'd come across a few grimoires and old readings detailing the history of Sparks, and... it wasn't pretty. Sparks, long ago, had been hunted as a rare, pricey commodity. Ages ago they had been sold as slaves and imprisoned and... from everything Stiles could find, that had gone on for centuries.
So he let people think what they wanted and he slowly built up a network of allies. He didn't know when he would need them (hopefully never), but he couldn't help but think it was a good idea to be prepared. It was also why he got his father to go to Chris Argent. Having his dad stocked with the appropriately deadly weaponry eased his mind. He knew the Sheriff could handle himself, and he was confident in his father's ability to keep himself safe now that he had the proper tools to do so.
Knowing that his dad could protect himself and knowing that he was making strides to keep himself and his family safe, brought him a measure of comfort that he'd never felt before.
He slept better than he had in a long, long time. The nightmares that haunted him were slowly, slowly getting lighter. He thought it might have something to do with his strengthening magic. Knowing that if... if what happened were to happen now, Stiles knew that he would easily be able to stop it, and that eased his mind just a little. It helped that his father was always there when he woke up screaming, and he was even able to fall back asleep, as long as it was in his father's bed.
He had been worried of bothering the man that first night, but his dad had looked so proud the next morning that Stiles had just crawled in beside him the next time. It felt good to have his dad so close, and it made it easier to wake up and focus on the present when he wasn't alone.
Stiles found that once he was no longer stressing over the pack or attending lacrosse practice, he had an abundance of free time. With the lack of stress and ever-strengthening pack bond between Peter and his dad, practising with his magic was becoming easier and easier, too. He no longer had to fit his schedule around desperately helping the pack in any way that he could, and now he had so much more free time.
Not only did he have time to make dinner for him and his dad, but he also sat down and ate it with him like they used to do together every night.
He had Peter to update him on the goings-on with the Alpha pack, so he didn't have to constantly worry about that. It was a huge relief to have someone that he trusted to track them, especially because there wasn't much Stiles could do in that regard. Really, everything that Peter was telling him was making it seem like they weren't doing much at the moment. He knew that if something happened, he'd be told, and that allowed him to rest easier than he had in a long time.
Peter himself was an awesome new addition to his life. After that first morning, he had made himself a regular at the Stilinski home, and Stiles' father didn't seem to be protesting one bit. Peter joined them for dinner more than a few nights a week, and Stiles always made enough food to have leftovers for himself, his dad, and Peter, since he knew the man had been going to the station for lunch nearly every day (the deputies told him everything at this point. He'd trained them well).
And Stiles found he didn't mind the idea of Peter spending so much time with his dad. He'd always thought of his father dating with a grimace. He'd never once seriously considered it, because he knew his dad hadn't either. In fact, when Stiles really paused to think about it, he was certain that the man himself was completely oblivious of the fact that he and Peter... well, that they were dating, and had been for two weeks at that point.
So Stiles thought nothing of it when Peter invaded the Stilinski household on a Friday afternoon. Stiles let him in, and had to rush out of the way to avoid being pummeled by the plethora of grocery bags the man was carrying. He and his dad met in the middle of the hallway, silently watching as Peter pulled out food and pots, a case of beer, and a box from the Polish bakery the Stilinski's both liked.
Stiles had mentioned in a text the other day that that bakery made his dad's favorite dessert, and the memory made Stiles snicker. When his dad looked over at him with a raised brow, he didn't answer the unspoken question. He could keep guessing. Stiles just couldn't help but find it cute that Peter was so obviously courting his dad, and his father seemed to have no idea.
He felt a little strange leaving the two of them alone, like he should go out into the kitchen and do something crazy like chaperone them. But he actually wanted this to happen, and he was... going to let it happen naturally and not interfere. Sure, it would be tough considering his natural state of being was meddling, but he trusted both of them to figure it out in their own time.
Instead of thinking about it, he grabbed the book he needed from his shelf; one filled with protective magics, spells, rituals, and various wards.
He lost himself reading and found it by a stroke of luck. Almost the exact series of wards he wanted to put up around his home was detailed near the end of the book. The series he was looking at began with keeping out those with ill intent, and then there were two others specifically to power the overall series. The fourth was for protection from harm, circling back and strengthening the first ward but also adding strength to the structure of their home. The fifth ward was to repel fire, and the last was to keep out unwanted supernatural creatures.
Which wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it was close enough he was pretty sure he'd be able to make something work. He drew them out in his notebook, careful to keep any magic out of his fingers while he did so, focusing on pushing back his spark so as to not ward the book in his hands. He took his time fiddling with the last ward, calling upon his spark to guide his hand as he drew. He added a few lines to the original ward, making it specific to him and overlaying it with the runes for safe entry and pack.
Stiles squealed when he was finally done, laughing brightly as he stared down at the piece of paper in his lap before jumping out of his desk chair and all but running out of the room. Excitement caused his spark to shine brightly in his eyes even as he tried to keep it under control. He launched himself down the stairs, permanent marker already in hand as he headed to the front door. He blew past Peter and his dad as they walked out of the kitchen together and made a very strong effort to ignore his dad's blush.
Stiles slid to his knees at the front door, excitement bubbling under his skin. He drew the wards slowly and carefully, pulling at his spark and letting it well up bright and hot inside him, pushing it out of his fingers and into the lines he was drawing. He knew his eyes were glowing white, and with the way his spark was burning, most likely the rest of his body as well.
Deaton had told him once—right at the beginning of the summer, when he was still getting some semblance of proper sleep—that he looked as though the moon's light had been placed under his skin. He said that Stiles' magic was both calm and erratic, cold and warm. That his spark was a series of contradictions in a way that meant nothing but greatness. It had been the most words Stiles had ever gotten out of the man at one time, and it made him so pleased he walked around with a dopey smile and flushed cheeks for three days.
Now he could feel it; he felt his magic inside him as it pulled and pushed, like the ocean's tide warring with his heart as it shone brightly around him. He felt it sink into the walls of the house, surrounding his entire home as he kept carefully drawing out his wards. When he finished the last symbol, there was a clear drop in temperature, accompanied by a loud pop as all the air pressure in the room fell abruptly before quickly rising again.
Stiles was pushed back onto his ass by the concussive force of the wards snapping into place, and all he could do was laugh, bright and loud, because his magic was so much more than anything he ever could have imagined. Not only had sleeping and eating helped, but the subtraction of stress to his life had done wonders. There was also his daily meditating, how he spent an hour each day at lunch—and usually more once home—on his magic, which has only strengthened his connection to his spark.
Mediating, sleeping—hell even eating— had done absolute wonders at keeping it strong, flexing and working it out, and Stiles sat back with wonder as he got to watch it grow.
When he finally, finally managed to stand up on shaky legs, his dad was already there to help guide him to the couch.
"Well that's certainly going to be helpful in the near future," Peter drawled as he settled himself in the armchair across from the two Stilinskis.
"What is?" his dad asked, frown firmly in place as he looked between them.
"I placed wards around the house. They're for protection. There's one to repel those with bad intent, and one to keep out any wolves I don't want coming in," Stiles answered, cuddling into his dad's warmth as his own rapidly left his body.
"Are you okay?" his dad's voice was twisted with concern, and Stiles felt bad, a little guilty for causing it, but all he could do was nod.
"Magic is taxing on the body. Stiles here just used a lot, if even I'm able to feel the wards he put up. He needs food and rest," Peter explained. He got up, running a hand down the back of Stiles' head and squeezing the nape of his neck before lifting him under the shoulders and setting him on his feet. "C'mon pup, I made dinner."
Stiles leaned into Peter, letting the man take all of his weight. He let out a growl when he walked into the dining room and saw the plate of steak wrapped in bacon. He punched Peter's arm. "I will not give you courting rights if you're going to feed him beef wrapped in a goddamn heart attack!"
"Courting rights?" his dad asked at the same time as Peter said, "You would give me permission?"
"Doesn't matter, and obviously . I care about you both, and if being together makes you happy, then why would I stand in the way?" Stiles answered both men respectively.
His dad still looked fairly confused, but instead of asking any more questions, he dove into his baked potato— which had cheese and bacon and sour cream on it Jesus fucking Christ— while Peter's face broke into a large, gentle smile. He tilted his head, baring his throat to Stiles in a casual manner and acknowledging the younger boy's position in their newly found pack.
Stiles ate with a smile, and despite wanting to steal away his father's plate and replace it with a bowl of kale, he enjoyed the food. Peter turned out to be a fairly good cook, and the conversation was light despite his show of magic. It was pleasantly domestic, having someone other than just him and his dad eat with them. Especially since his dad and Peter spent the meal bantering... which had a light amount of flirting thrown in for good measure. Stiles couldn't find it in himself to mind; he was too happy watching the easy smile on his dad's face, or the way Peter blushed when the older man teased him.
It was... comfortable.
But when everyone was finished, the easy smile dropped from Peter's face. He let out a long breath and scrubbed a hand wearily over his face and sighed deeply.
"I didn't just come here for the company, tonight," Peter said as he blew out a breath, slumping a little in his seat. "My nephew is a goddamn idiot, and he needs to be stopped."
Stiles couldn't help it—he snorted out a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand when it devolved into a bright giggle. Derek was an idiot.
"No, I'm being serious. Also, the McCall boy? I will never regret anything as much as I do biting the little brat."
"Okay, what stupid plan did Scott talk Derek into?" Stiles asked, leaning forward.
"Dear God. They seem to think—and this really is a testament to their stupidity—that meeting with the Alpha Pack is somehow a good idea!"
Stiles choked on his own saliva at that, his mouth falling open as he sat there, stupidly blinking as his mouth tried to form words. Because alright, no. That was possibly the worst plan Stiles had ever heard, Jesus!
"Did they not read my research?"
"Hey son, calm down, alright?" John said when the lights in the kitchen started flickering on and off, and the distinct sound of silverware clanking together came from inside the drawer on the other side of the room.
"Well, I obviously did, and I left the whole folder with Derek and urged him to. But, well, my nephew is an idiot."
"Yep. That's definitely a bad idea. Wait, when are they even doing this?" his dad asked, turning to Peter now that Stiles had settled down a bit.
"Sunday at six."
"Jesus," John muttered, standing to clean off the table.
Stiles just sort of sat there, mouth dropped open in shock. He'd known, intellectually, that the pack wasn't going to read his research, but he'd still hoped. He'd put so much of himself into it, so much time and energy and sleepless nights and skipped meals.
But above all else, that folder was meant to keep them alive. It was good information, useful information. It was all they needed to take down the Alphas, and knowing that they hadn't read it, that they'd be going in blind when Stiles literally gave them all the answers, was what pissed him off the most.
He stayed in his seat until Peter came and ushered him up, leading him back to the couch. Stiles settled into the side, curling his legs up and resting his head on his knees. He knew what this meant. It meant that he was going to have to do something to keep those idiots safe, whether he wanted to or not. His dad flopped down onto the couch beside him, tugging Peter down before wrapping an arm around the wolf and pulling him closer.
Huh, hid dad must have caught on quicker than Stiles was expecting.
Stiles smiled at them, all his earlier anger leaking out of him. "This might be too early, but when you guys get married I better be the best man," Stiles said softly, laughing as Peter's smile turned smug and his dad blushed. The slight pink turned to deep red as Peter shoved his face into the older man's neck to breathe. "Scenting. Werewolf thing."
His dad just hummed at the explanation, rubbing his chin against Peter's temple, clearly already adapting. Peter purred in response—an honest-to-god purr that rumbled up from his throat. In turn, his dad pulled Peter closer, a soft smile gracing his lips as he continued to rub his scent into the wolf's forehead.
"Okay, ground rules: no sex when I'm here, but sleepovers are one-hundred-percent a-okay. Peter, I expect you to keep buying me that really good coffee and to stop buying those doughnuts."
His dad blinked at him slowly, though his eyes were mostly half-lidded. Stiles suspected it was from the way Peter was rubbing his belly. "Stiles, you do realize I'm the father, right?"
"You may be the father, but Stiles is most definitely the Alpha," Peter mumbled against John's neck.
"Yeah Dad, I'm the Alpha," Stiles teased, smiling to himself.
Dad signed loudly, which got a snicker from Stiles and Peter. Eventually, he asked, "Alright, so what are we going to do about this meeting?"
"Oh, I'm going to be there," Stiles told him, a plan already forming.
"Dear boy, I would expect nothing less," Peter commented, leaning back into the couch, "Alright, so we will be on the northern perimeter of the preserve…"
The rest of the evening was spent in the soft light of the TV, Stiles and Peter loosely coming up with a plan as some game show played quietly in the background. At some point, Stiles curled up on one side of his dad as Peter did the same on the other.
That was how Stiles fell asleep, the flickering light of Wheel of Fortune and his dad and Peter whispering to one another, cuddled close with his pack.
I Propose a Trade
His spark was burning bright under his skin and his eyes were alight with his magic. It was thrumming around him, vibrating all through him. Ever since warding his house, it was like a dam had broken. His spark went from a tealight to a forest fire, wild and untamed and beautiful in its power. Stiles had never before imagined that it could be so bright. It was warm under his skin, and he wanted to laugh with glee. These woods recognized him, and they were familiar with his power.
He took a breath before he called upon his spark to hide him, to cover his scent and his heartbeat. His lips curled into a smile as a soft glow laid over his skin, a visual representation of his magic that only he—or other strong magic-users—would be able to see.
Stiles took another step forward, almost letting out a peal of delighted laughter when his step made no noise against the florets floor. He stepped on a twig purposefully, already grinning and only smiling wider when no sound was made. Stiles hadn't been sure if he would be able to silence his surroundings as well, but it looked like he could.
He already knew he could block his scent and heartbeat. He had practiced with Peter over the weekend. But to silence his surroundings, for him to make no noise at all... that was an entirely different level of much more complex magic. Altering oneself was one thing, but Stiles was using his magic to affect the world around him.
Hell yeah.
He finally let out a laugh when he focused his spark and pulled at the light around him, wrapping it around himself until he disappeared from view. He was giddy with it, with the high that using his magic was bringing him. It was a reminder that he wasn't weak, that despite everything that he'd already been through, he was still strong. He felt a little bit of vindictive glee thinking about just how strong his spark was.
Earlier, Peter had briefly tried to talk Stiles out of coming with him tonight, and it had been so reminiscent of how he'd previously been treated that he immediately went on the defensive. It hadn't exactly gone well. Stiles had crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the man. Well, until Peter's resolve had broken down and he'd said, "Look, I just want — I need you to be safe, alright? You're like a cub to me, Stiles."
After that, Stiles couldn't bring himself to be upset. He'd hugged the man, thankful that Peter hadn't mentioned the scent of salt in the air or the wet spots left on his shirt.
He'd still gone, of course. He couldn't let Peter go alone, not given how much he meant to both Stiles and his dad. If Peter was going to worry about his safety, he better believe Stiles was going to do the same. It wasn't just because he was dating his dad, either. Peter had been there for him when the rest of his 'pack' hadn't, and he'd been the only one upset with the treatment Stiles had received.
Peter had wormed his way into Stiles' heart—probably by seeing Peter in sweats and his father's old BHSD sweatshirt—and he was pack, now. Once Stiles had cast the wards, he could feel Peter inside them, could feel his connection, and then suddenly he could feel the man's pack bond like never before. It had been growing strong over the last weeks and Stiles had thought he knew what a strong bond was, but casting the wards had been game changing. Now it was brighter than anything he'd ever felt, and it strummed strongly inside his chest, a warm weight that he could always feel.
He could feel it even now, as he slowly walked towards the clearing. It was like the forest was bending to his will, clearing a path as he walked. He wanted to laugh again, struck by an unexplainable urge to throw his head back and shout with joy. He'd never felt like this before, so wholly happy. Relief washed through him and made him feather-light. As he went, Stiles made sure to thank the forest, letting a little of his spark out to brush over the foliage surrounding him as he stepped into the clearing his old pack was gathered in.
He had known that he was invisible, that no one would be able to sense him, but to have it proven sent a shiver of pride down his spine. None of the wolves even twitched, not even Peter, who could most likely sense his closeness because of their bond. Stiles knew that the bond they shared was one of the only real pack bonds the wolf had, his weak link to Derek only still in existence due to their shared blood.
Both Stiles and Peter had been surprised by the sudden strength of their bond, though they figured it was most likely bolstered by the way Stiles' magic had opened up. They had spent most of that morning experimenting with it. It was very strong, strong enough that Stiles had been able to follow it all the way to the clearing, and definitely strong enough for Peter to be able to tell that Stiles was standing almost right next to him. The small smirk on Peter's face was confirmation of that.
Stiles couldn't help but let out a sigh when he looked over Derek's pack. They were halfway into the clearing. Derek stood front and center with Peter a handful of steps behind and a step to the left. Scott was about two steps behind Derek and one to the right, and it was a little funny, Stiles had to admit, that Scott was Derek's right hand. Funny in the 'what the fuck are you doing' sense, since Scott was a terrible werewolf with even worse instincts.
He should never have been given such a high position in a pack, especially one higher than Peter. And yes, Left Hand was a perfectly acceptable position for the older wolf, one that Stiles would gladly give to Peter himself. He was more than ruthless enough, and he had such a strong sense of pack, such loyal instincts, that he was really a perfect fit.
But for Scott to be placed above Peter in their pack hierarchy? That made no sense to Stiles. Derek really was an idiot, if he was confronting an outside pack with a relatively newly bitten wolf holding higher rank than an older, born wolf. Stiles shook his head to stop thinking about it. It wasn't Stiles' place to worry about them, not after they kicked him out.
Behind the first three, the others were all standing in two rows, but were directly behind Derek, Allison and Isaac made up the next line while Lydia and Jackson took up the rear. It made sense to have those four placed in such a way, at least. Lydia was human—or if more, no one knew what yet. Jackson's control was still awful. Add to that the fact that he was hardly trained, and, well...
Keeping them to the back meant they'd be furthest from the fight, the safest, and the first to be able to get away if necessary.
Stiles moved a little closer to Peter, wanting desperately to wrap his magic around the older wolf. He couldn't yet. He wouldn't do anything that risked exposing himself this early. He wanted to protect what was his, and his father's words were still fresh in his mind. His dad had been a little anxious the whole day, staying close to both of them until it was time to leave. He'd pulled them both into a tight hug, asking them to, "Just look out for each other. I want my boys back in once piece."
Stiles was pulled from the memory by the sound of footsteps. They echoed around the clearing, louder than they should be to his human senses. A sign of power, Stiles thought as he took a few steps forward, placing himself in front of Peter. Stiles set his shoulders and felt his spark hum inside of him in anticipation of what was to come.
He watched as Deucalion broke from the tree line, a light smirk pulling at the man's lips. Stiles could see the barest traces of the harsh red scars he knew littered his face, though his black glasses covered a fair portion of them. He stopped a few feet in front of Derek, folding up the walking cane he had been using and slowly placing it in his back pocket, all the while smiling calmly.
After him came Ennis, a giant hulk of man who came up to stand on Deucalion's right, almost beside him, barely half a step back. Stiles had to hold back a giggle when the light caught on the man's head, his baldness shining in the fading sun. He did make an intimidating picture, though; he was taller than Deucalion, and much wider. After him a smaller, lithe woman all but sauntered into the clearing, feet bare, with sharp claws sticking from her toes. She settled at Deucalion's left, the same distance back as Ennis, putting them in an equal position just under their Alpha.
Lastly a teenager, one of the twins, came out and settled further back, a handful of steps away and directly behind his Alpha. Stiles felt uneasy when no one else followed him. His eyes tried to search past the tree line for the second twin. He knew Peter felt the same; he could feel Peter's gaze scanning the forest the same way. Stiles didn't like the feeling that settled in his gut.
He barely thought before stepping farther forward, positioning himself more firmly between the two packs.
He wasn't foolish enough to think that he stood any real chance against the Alphas. He knew that if they decided to attack he would most likely die. Stiles could only hope he'd be able to get himself and Peter away, though he had absolutely no idea if he'd be able to make someone else invisible.
"Alpha Hale." The voice echoed around the clearing, deep in the way it resonated around the trees. .
It was another obvious show of power, much like the volume of his footsteps. It did make Stiles nervous though, seeing as the man was so confident. Well, either confident, or showing off to make himself appear more powerful.
He didn't seem the least bit worried, either way. Stiles' nerves only doubled when the man bowed, right hand coming up to place a fist over his heart. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Deucalion," Derek said, voice nothing but a low growl as his eyes flashed red. Stiles swallowed hard. That was a challenge. Not only that, but Derek's lack of manners and complete lack of respect was an insult, a dismissal of Deucalion as an equal. And good Gid, because the idea that Derek was anywhere even close to the other spa was laughable. "I want what's mine."
"Now, now, boy. What would your mother say about those manners?" Deucalion answered smoothly, a brow rising behind his sunglasses. Stiles let out a snort.
The man's face turned a little in Stiles' direction, and the boy's heartbeat kicked up, thumping wildly in his chest. He didn't even have time to think about that, because Derek's beta shift took over his face, and the few in his pack who could shift followed suit. Scott actually roared at the Alphas. Peter used the distraction as an opportunity to step closer to Stiles, slowly inching past his "Alpha" while sticking to the right.
"C'mon, old man, just give us back our packmates and we won't have to fight you," Jackson said, smirk firmly on his face. Jackson had always been full of ego and confidence that he couldn't back up, but in this case he was really out of his league. Kali flashed her eyes at him, and Jackson just dropped his fangs and smiled back.
They were going to get themselves killed.
Stiles remained standing in the middle of the clearing, awestruck at the stupidity of his former pack. He was glad Peter was behind him, at his back. None of the other Alphas seemed to notice Peter passing Derek, too busy staring down individual members of the Hale pack that were growling at them. Well, Deucalion had clearly noticed, since he was staring straight through Stiles at Peter.
Stiles didn't like it, but he didn't want to intervene, either. He would much rather grab Peter and run away, leaving the pack to deal with the disaster their idiocy had caused. But he knew he couldn't do that. He couldn't let the pack die, even if they meant nothing to him anymore. He saw Scott stepping forward from the corner of his eye and his dropped his spell, blinking into visibility.
His old pack collectively gasped as his heartbeat and scent flooded into the clearing. Peter let out a sigh behind him. He knew it must have been difficult for the man to be able to feel him through the bond but not be able to hear or smell him. The Alphas were all taken aback, eyes wide as they stared at him—except for Deucalion, who just smirked, obviously having sensed Stiles' presence the whole time.
Stiles made his way to the center of the clearing, putting himself directly between the two Alphas and turning his back to Derek. Not only distancing himself from the Hale pack, but also showing that he didn't consider them a threat.
He stopped in front of Deucalion, keeping just out of arm's reach, and bowed. He kept his chin down, not making eye contact, fist covering his heart. He let himself go low, acknowledging the man's power and recognizing himself as lesser—which... Stiles was realizing wasn't entirely true. If it were any regular Alpha he wouldn't be doing this. He wouldn't need to.
He was strong. He was getting more and more certain of that the longer he could feel the bright spark of his magic inside himself. But Deucalion? Deucalion was on another plane of existence, his power seeping into the clearing and surrounding them all. So he bowed deep, not allowing anyone to mistake what he was doing. He wasn't presenting himself as an equal, but rather someone who recognized the superior strength of their opponent and did not wish to fight.
He straightened up, sure that Peter followed his example with the bow. Kali was watching him, her eyes narrowed as if she could see into him. Ennis' eyes were wide, probably in disbelief at the manners the human was showing. Stiles would probably be surprised too, but he'd never done things halfway. And besides, he wanted to be someone in the supernatural world, someday. He needed to make sure he could act like he belonged there.
"Alpha Deucalion, a pleasure."
"Oh, I truly believe the pleasure is all mine, Mister..."
"Spark Stilinski, please," Stiles said with another, smaller bow, just an inclination of his head to show he wasn't offering his title as a challenge.
He wasn't sure why he was offering it at all.
He couldn't help but be surprised when in turn, Deucalion stepped forward and offered his hand. Stiles, despite the sudden pounding in his heart, lifted his own for the handshake. He was doing well so far, and he didn't need anything to ruin what he was trying to do, the peace he hoped to be able to keep, just because he was scared. Only, instead of shaking his hand, Deucalion took it in his own and lifted it upward, bending his head down to press a kiss to Stiles' knuckles, letting the contact linger a moment before stepping back.
Stiles eyes were already wide and unseeing, his body going taut with sudden tension. His spark was roaring under his skin even as darkness slowly started to creep into his vision, his breathing turning sharp and shallow. His vision blacked out, and suddenly he saw a young man in his early twenties, standing in a clearing. His eyes were bright blue, sharp and clear as they watched a large black wolf trot forward. The wolf stopped and shifted, elongating into a woman.
The woman— god, that must be Talia Hale— said something, but Stiles' couldn't hear anything but his own racing heartbeat. It looked like an argument, though, judging by the way Talia's jaw went sharp and the man's shoulders tensed up, his gaze hardening.
Suddenly everything was black again, and the same man was standing in... a distillery? It was an old building that was filled with large containers. There was an older man across from him, flanked by three others dressed in black. Hunters, obviously. At the center was a younger-looking Gerard.
Stiles wanted to throw up just at the sight of him, bile rising in his throat even as he helplessly watched the scene unfold. They talked for a while, until Gerard suddenly hefted a club, a large, wooden thing covered in—dear god, wolf claws. Not only that, because Stiles could see the magical glitter of mountain ash. He watched as it was swung straight into Deucalion's eyes. Stiles could see how the warehouse shook from the strength of the roar he let out.
Stiles screamed along with him, his entire face burning. He could feel the claws pierce his skin, the blood oozing out and the wolfsbane burning him, sealing his injuries and making sure they'd scar. It was horrible, awful enough to make Stiles wish he was back in the basement. It was the worst pain he'd ever felt—but then it was gone, and he was watching Deucalion lay on a medical table, panting hard.
Someone else came in, another wolf, sneering at the Alpha. Stiles knew somehow that the man was Deucalion's second. He watched in horror as the younger wolf swiped at his Alpha's throat, only for Deucalion to catch his wrist and drag his own claws across his beta's neck, hot blood splattering over his face.
His vision blacked out again, and suddenly he was watching himself standing in the clearing. His body was rigid as Deucalion dropped his hand, stepping back and bowing formally, a smirk on his face as he righted himself. Stiles was forced back into himself on a harsh inhale, the vision clearing to the scene in front of him as he blinked rapidly. Deucalion was still straightening up, returning to his looming height, his power and strength swirling around him like a physical thing.
And Stiles—Stiles could feel something like protectiveness unfurl in his chest at the thought of what the man had been through. He'd just wanted peace, wanted to help. He'd foolishly trusted Gerard, only to have the man steal his eyesight. The same man who had taken far too much from Stiles had taken from this man as well, taken the good from him. Although...that wasn't entirely true.
Stiles could feel it, under the Alpha power and strength the man had: his soul was still good.
Tainted, yes. Having to fight his own pack just to live must have been incredibly hard. Stiles couldn't even imagine the pain the man must have felt while killing them, or how that would have twisted with the sharp spike of power he had received. Hell, Stiles didn't want to think about it; he just wanted to get this over with.
"How may I help you, Spark Stilinski?" Deucalion asked. It didn't seem like he had any idea what Stiles had just seen, or if he had, he didn't seem to have anything to say about it.
"Alpha Deucalion, I propose a trade."
Anything For You, Dear Boy
Chapter Notes
See end notes for warnings!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Deucalion's laughter rang out through the clearing. There was a shocked silence from the Hale pack, and the Alphas seemed in no hurry to say anything. There was no mocking in Deucalion's laugh, not like when he'd first spoken to Derek. Stiles could tell the man was genuinely pleased. It was a nice laugh, really, and Deucalion seemed to put so much energy into everything he did that Stiles grinned despite himself.
"Anything for you, dear boy."
Oh. That shouldn't make Stiles blush, and it definitely shouldn't make something pool low in his belly. Something that was warming his gut, a feeling he couldn't quite name, or rather, didn't want to. He knew what he was going to do, and although it was a plan thrown together on the fly, he was confident in his ability to pull it off.
To pull it off, he definitely didn't need to be thinking about whatever was making his blood so warm.
"I ask that you return to Alpha Hale his captured pack mates," Stiles said calmly, raising his voice at the end to make it sound like a request rather than a demand.
This was a negotiation, after all, and despite Deucalion's words Stiles was still treading carefully. He could very easily ruin it all and get them killed, and all it would take would be a few wrong words.
Hell, Derek's pack should already be dead with the disrespect they showed.
"And what can you possibly offer?" Kali slurred around her fangs, her eyes slowly bleeding red as she sneered at him.
"Myself, of course," Stiles said, turning to look at Peter. The man was standing close behind him, hardly leaving space between their bodies. He'd stayed by Stiles' side ever since the boy revealed himself, all but abandoning his nephew's pack. It was nice to know he was willing to take Stiles' side in this, and the nod Peter gave him helped put him at ease. "Well, Beta Peter Hale, and myself."
"You do one magic trick, and think you are worth their lives?" Kali asked on a growl, her knees bending as her beta shift fell over her.
It was not a pretty sight. Her already long toenails elongated even more, and her facial shift wasn't pleasant—her eyebrows receded into her sideburns as her hairline filled out in a deep widow's peak, her nose flattening and lips curling back in a snarl. It wasn't pretty, but it was intimidating.
Stiles closed his eyes, letting his magic guide him. It flared brightly inside him, and he allowed it to be seen, for the growing light of the moon to spill out of him and into the clearing. He had no idea what the hell he was doing but so far his magic hadn't ever led him wrong.
When he opened his eyes, it was to the Alphas squinting, Kali covering her eyes against the light of his magic. He focused on her then, letting his magic bleed into his eyes so he could see more, and he caught sight of her Alpha spark. It glowed red from within her chest, shining bright inside her, and he pushed on it with his own magic, forcing her to shift back to human.
Stiles sucked in a deep breath and was forever grateful for Peter when his hand pressed against the small of his back to keep him steady as a wave of exhaustion washed over him. He called his spark into himself, satisfied with the show of his magic as the she-wolf stumbled backward, eyes wide. He took a deep breath, and he squared his shoulders.
"Think I'm worth it now?" Stiles asked, letting his voice take on a teasing tone.
"Very well, Spark Stilinski. We will return Beta Erica Reyes and Beta Vernon Boyd to the Hale Pack, in exchange for both Beta Peter Hale and yourself," the older Alpha said, his voice raising and echoing throughout the clearing.
Before he even finished speaking the second twin walked out of the cover of the trees. Several gasps sounded from behind Stiles. Stiles relaxed though, glad that the entire pack was finally out in the open. He let himself release the breath he had been holding but didn't do more than that. He kept himself focused, his spark close to the surface.
Once the second twin had situated himself next to his brother, Erica and Boyd strolled from the treeline in what looked to be perfect health. Erica's hair was nicely curled, her lips painted red. Boyd was standing as tall as he ever had, his hair still cropped close and his face was cleanly shaven.
Neither looked like they'd been being held hostage for months. He hadn't seen them since Gerard's basement, and it was like the image of them strung up, bloody, bruised and broken was being overlaid with what was in front of him. He could see them, could see that they were safe and healthy, but he also couldn't seem to shake the image of Erica roaring in outrage as Gerard raped him.
The closer they got, the more Stiles wanted to reach out. He needed to feel them, to reassure himself that they were real, that they were alive. Erica took that choice away by walking up to him and falling into his chest, tucking her face under his chin and releasing a sharp sob. Boyd came up behind her, bracketing her in both his arms and reaching around her to hold Stiles as well, one hand on his back and one cradling his head.
He let himself fall into the embrace, soaking up the feeling of them both whole and safe around him, his spark all but roaring in delight. Stiles was crying now as well, quiet, gasping breaths ripping themselves from his throat. The only reason he wasn't trying to stop himself was because he was vividly remembering that night, remembering the pain, and worse, the feeling of everything Gerard did to him.
His tears were an odd mix of trauma and relief, because Stiles was relieved. He was so fucking relieved to see his pack mates—or rather, friends, since they were never pack to begin with—safe and happy. After what they had been through together, after Stiles hadn't been able to find them... he'd been so sure they were dead, even if he'd never admitted it to himself. It was almost overwhelming, and he could feel his spark combing them over, making sure that they really were as okay as they looked.
They finally pulled apart and Erica laughed, smiling at Stiles before saying, "You really are a superhero, huh Batman?"
Stiles just smiled, a weak, tearful thing as he righted himself. He let himself lean into Peter as he felt the man send comfort along their bond, a hand coming up to lightly hold the back of his neck. It was a strictly lupine gesture, but it helped calm Stiles down all the same. It also helped knowing that he had the man here beside him, behind him, willing to follow him.
After seeing Boyd and Erica, Stiles felt reassured about his decision to join the Alpha Pack. They'd had the two of them held hostage for months, yet both of them looked like they did just before they decided to leave, if not better. Stiles was actually fairly sure Erica's hair was blonder than it ever was before, falling in thick, styled waves down her back.
Maybe his information had been wrong. There was something about the Alpha pack that he didn't know, but he wanted to find out what it was.
Stiles took a steadying breath, allowing himself one more moment to draw strength from Peter. It was crazy, really, that the wolf was so willing to follow Stiles into what was literally the enemy's territory. He had no idea what Stiles had planned, nor what could possibly happen, and just the fact that he was putting so much blind faith in him made Stiles want to preen.
The wolf, despite being nearly twenty years his senior, was deferring to him as the Alpha, and knowing that made Stiles more confident in his decisions—even though he was still terrified of them.
He took a step forward, Peter following him closely enough that Stiles could still feel his body heat against his back. He kept going until he was in front of Deucalion, not once looking back at his old pack. He was aware of them embracing Erica and Boyd, and he could feel how they'd collectively stopped paying attention to the threat in front of them. Their idiocy never ceased to surprise Stiles, and for the moment he was happy they kicked him out; happy that he didn't have to deal with them.
"Well, now that everything is settled," Deucalion began, bowing slightly, his lips twisted into a small smirk at the mockery of the action. Derek clearly didn't know how to properly behave when it came to formal meetings, and Deucalion was just showing his superiority once again. "It was a pleasure. Hopefully we don't need to meet again."
And with that he turned his back, obviously unthreatened by the Hale pack. He didn't step forward right away, though, and Stiles in turn stepped up, offering his arm for the older man to grab onto. He wasn't sure why he did it, but his spark was urging him forward and he'd always been one to trust his instincts, especially with the way they'd been guiding him so far. They'd rarely led him wrong, so he refused to look deeper into his actions. Deucalion wrapped his hand lightly around Stiles' proffered arm with a small, genuine-looking curve of his lips.
Only then did he take his first step. Stiles kept in line beside him, helping Deucalion move through the clearing. Stiles was smart, and he'd done quite a bit of research. There was really only one position in the pack hierarchy that would allow Stiles to fall into step with his Alpha, and that wasn't something he was willing to think about.
At least... not yet.
He could fall half a step back, into the role of Emissary, but now he was leading the man. He decided the only reason Deucalion was letting them walk beside one another was because he was guiding him, willfully forcing himself to forget about the cane he knew was in the man's pocket.
Instead he assumed the role of another Alpha, straightening up just a little and letting the smallest bit of his power bleed under his skin. He was presenting himself as close to an equal as he could, because the only other option wasn't worth exploring. Not at all. Not even if the thought had excitement strumming under his skin. They made their way through the forest, Stiles' magic tracing the power trails the Alpha's had left on their way to the clearing to make sure he led Deucalion where he actually needed to go.
He could still feel Peter right at his back, the wolf standing close. Peter was his Second, and the way he was standing was presenting them as two different packs, not yet merged into one. Although it was obvious at this point that was the goal, Stiles was doing his very best not to think about it. Knowing that Peter was still willing to follow him did make him feel better, but fuck, Stiles hoped to be worthy of that much faith.
Not much else was said as they continued their way out of the clearing. It wasn't necessarily an awkward silence, though it wasn't the most comfortable Stiles had ever experienced. The atmosphere was tense, and Stiles was set to blame that on the Alphas. He couldn't smell emotions, and he wasn't quite able to feel what the others were feeling, but he could get a sense if he focused strong enough.
It was almost like an aura, in a way. He could tell that Deucalion was the only one who was truly calm, the only one who didn't have anything to fear. In fact, he had a sort of... excitement clinging to him. It was subtle, a barely-there thing, but enough to pique Stiles' interest.
The air of excitement around the Alpha wolf only grew as they neared the end of the tree line, the trees thinning out even as they moved around Stiles and Deucalion, the forest bending to their combined power. Stiles was hopeless to imagine what they might be together; he could only imagine how brightly they must shine standing side by side, and just how powerful they could be as one.
He wasn't stupid. Stiles had an inkling of what was about to happen. Either he and Peter were going to die, or they would be brought into the pack: Stiles as Emissary and Peter as his Left Hand. It would be a rare position for the wolf to take, one not normally required in a traditional pack hierarchy. Yes, they would all merge together, becoming one, but Peter would be Deucalion's Beta and Stiles' Left Hand, while Deucalion could have his own or let Peter be his, too.
When they hit the very end of the forest line, Peter shoved past Stiles, all but throwing him into the man at his side who shot out a hand to steady him. Stiles paid no mind to Deucalion, though, now when all his attention was focused on Peter, who was on his knees, arms wrapped around a petite girl. She was short, maybe Lydia's height if the girl ever wore flat shoes. Her hair was hiding her face, falling in front of it as she bent over Peter. The wolf's arms were wrapped around her middle.
Stiles knew it was Cora even before Peter's broken voice carried the name to him. He could see the pack bond between the two, an old, brittle thing slowly healing itself as Peter sobbed into her stomach. Cora just clutched at his shoulders, her head lowered so she could breathe deeply at the top of his head.
He turned to the Alpha at his side—making sure that his spark was still attentively watching Peter. He didn't like that Deucalion so blatantly turned his back on the others, though he could surely understand why. Deucalion didn't have anything to fear from the Hale pack, and... apparently he had a surprise. The Alpha had a soft, rather self-indulgent smile on his face as Peter and Cora reunited.
Stiles was sure that if he could scent emotions the man would be radiating smugness, as if this was all part of some evil plan that wasn't evil at all.
Deucalion turned his head to Stiles, flashing the boy a smile. It was a pretty sight even with the few scattered scars adorning the man's face. The ones that Stiles could see were long and red, surrounding his eye area and his forehead, visible even around the rims of his black-out glasses. The skin was raised and puckered. Stiles wondered for a moment if they were as painful as they looked.
Stiles looked up when his spark tugged at him, alerting him that Peter was standing back up. He smoothed the hair back from his niece's face, his lips moving softly even as his shoulders stayed tense. Stiles couldn't hear their conversation, but whatever Cora said made Peter sag with relief, so Stiles could guess that the subject of conversation had been Laura for the way Peter's pack bond felt.
He stretched his magic and felt that it was softly surrounding the two, keeping what they were saying from the wolves as well. Stiles watched Deucalion's lip twitch from the corner of his eye, and could only hope it was from amusement.
Peter came back soon after, his eyes bright and his smile all but blinding. Stiles pulled him close with the arm not being held by Deucalion, pressing his forehead against Peter's and flashing his eyes. His hold was firm on the back of Peter's neck, and their bond sang between them with so much unhindered joy that Stiles was sure even John in his humanity would be able to feel it.
Cora approached only once Stiles had let Peter go and the man had fallen back behind him, assuming his previous position. Neither Stiles nor Deucalion said anything when Cora stood beside her uncle, their hands held tightly together. They just continued their walk, finally breaking through the last of the tree line.
A few yards to the left was an old-looking building, though Stiles let his eyes skip past it so he could focus his attention on the Alpha beside him. They rested for a moment, standing close while the rest of the pack caught up. Deucalion didn't let go of his arm until the second twin broke through the tree line. Stiles missed the warmth of it.
Stiles waited until the pack was gathered, using the moment to calm his racing heartbeat and push down his growing anxiety. What he was about to do could ruin everything. It wasn't as though Stiles was unaware of the position they were in or the disadvantage he and Peter were at. This could turn very bad for them very quickly.
He had a lot of hope.
"I do have one condition," Stiles began, ignoring the disbelieving snort that Kali gave. It didn't matter; she didn't matter. Stiles was sure Deucalion was smart enough to know Stiles' power, even if the she-wolf did not, despite his demonstration with her earlier.
He may be untrained and running off instinct, but he was a spark. The title meant something.
"I know you are looking for Gerard." Stiles spoke calmly, smirking when Deucalion's eyebrows rose in surprise. Stiles hadn't been sure whether or not the Alpha knew that Stiles had a front-row seat to his memories. He didn't like the thought that Deucalion was unaware of what he had done, especially since he really had no idea how he had done it. His smirk fell, but instead of dwelling on the consent issues of delving into someone's mind without their knowledge, he continued on. "When we find him, I get his heart."
"Sweetheart, whatever did he take from you?" Deucalion asked, his expression softening.
Stiles just looked down, his spark already raging under his skin even as he tried to push it back. Peter's hand was once again firm on the back of his neck, but this time it only helped so much. He was still unable to answer, so he was grateful when the Alpha only nodded in acceptance, clearly dropping the subject.
Stiles stepped closer to the man, facing him head-on. "Alpha Deucalion, I submit to you as my Alpha, and wish to be granted entry into your pack."
"I accept your submission, Spark Stilinski, and welcome you to my Pack." With that, Deucalion leaned forward, gently biting into Stiles' neck with human teeth before he kicked a line from the collar of his shirt to behind his ear. Stiles knew he was leaving behind a thick layer of scent, but he couldn't seem to be too upset about it. He felt the pack bonds slowly forming, already settling somewhere deep in his chest. Before he could step back, Deucalion gripped Stiles' left forearm. Stiles copied the gesture. "Will you, Spark Stilinski, accept the position of Emissary to the Alpha Pack under my leadership."
"It would be my honor to uphold the position of Emissary to the Alpha Pack under your leadership, Alpha Deucalion." The words had hardly left his lips before a wave of power rushed through him, taking his feet off the ground with its intensity. It was reflected in his Alpha; Deucalion's eyes flashed a vivid red even behind his glasses, glowing brightly as a rumble made its way from his chest.
He only stayed standing because of Deucalion's firm grip, and when he was settled he took a short step forward and placed a small kiss on the Alpha's cheek, flushing a little in embarrassment but trusting his instincts nonetheless.
He moved to the side and watched as Peter submitted as well. The process was much the same, though this time Deucalion's face shifted, his skin darkening into his beta shift as his jaw expanded to fit more teeth. He bit into Peter gently, and once his teeth had pierced his skin, Stiles felt his bond with the Beta glow even brighter, stronger now that there was an actual Alpha anchoring them together and not just Stiles' magic allowing him to stand in as one. Peter flashed him a smile full of sharp teeth and the bright, clear blue eyes of his wolf, before he was smothered by Cora. Both of them were obviously overwhelmed by their bond reforming in such a strong way.
Stiles stood next to Deucalion, a small smile curling on his lips as warmth unfolded in his chest.
Chapter End Notes
Warning: Mention of Rape.
I Like Stoves
It turned out the pack had been staying in the abandoned bank that sat right at the edge of downtown, which really bordered being a part of the warehouse district. It was a large, empty building that hadn't been used for anything in years. Breaking in had long since become boring for teenagers, and no one even wandered by at this point. It was a place nearly everyone in the town would have been aware of, but it was also a place that no one would think about. It was the old bank. Frankly, Stiles had no idea why the building was still standing, especially given the shape it was in.
Weather-worn, the bank was nearly devoid of windows—they'd all been broken through years ago. The building itself was beyond run down: empty slots in the bricking with foliage running up and down the outer walls, though there were a few vines that seemed to have made their way into the windows. The inside wasn't much better. A heavy layer of dust and dirt had settled over everything. Cora led them further into the building, up to a few second floor offices they were using as... bedrooms.
Dear God.
Stiles had to admit they were in much better condition than the rest of the building, and had obviously been cleaned out and then well maintained. Cora was on her own, a double mattress and boxspring laying without a frame against the back wall. There were two duffel bags which she appeared to be living out of, and a smaller bag that held what seemed to be toiletries. There was a laptop plugged in and charging on the floor. Stiles knew what he was seeing could be a lot worse (though he did wonder why this place still had any power turned on), but that sure didn't bring him a lot of comfort.
Even though the room was an improvement over the rest of the building, it was still dirty. He wasn't sure any room in this building would ever again be truly clean, though Cora didn't seem like she minded. In fact, none of the Alpha's seemed to care, as they all watched Stiles prowl around their living quarters.
Stiles couldn't imagine what it would be like to possibly live here.
Oh, hell no.
"No more of this," Stiles demanded when they all met in the 'common' room. There were two mini-fridges with a microwave oven sitting atop one and a coffee maker on the floor.
Hell. No.
"Pardon?" Deucalion asked. The man hadn't strayed far from Stiles' side the entire walk back, and had stayed close during their little tour.
Stiles definitely didn't mind it. The bond they had formed was so new that it felt incredibly fragile. Stiles wanted to protect it, to hold it close and keep it safe, and it didn't help that it was also the warmest thing Stiles had ever felt. It strummed strongly between them with their shared power, which was more than anything Stiles had ever felt before. He could almost feel the extra magic he'd be able to access, how if needed to, he'd be able to draw upon the older wolf's power to fuel his spark.
It wasn't something he was sure he'd be able to do, but... the possibility was there, and it was an exciting prospect, especially with just how strong Deucalion was.
That was also a tricky road to go down, as Stiles knew just how the man had received his power. He could understand the actions the Alpha had taken all those years ago, though only to a point. Stiles had no idea what it might feel like to be betrayed by his own beta, especially to be betrayed by one's beta during a time of healing, a time when Deucalion would have needed the strength of his pack to heal. Deucalion should have been surrounded by his pack after the accident, the shared power flowing freely from Alpha to Beta as Alpha recovered.
But instead of strength and support, Deucalion had been challenged, his Right Hand using his impairment to their advantage.
To be in so much pain, so much agony, and then have to defend your own life only to be assaulted suddenly with such a surge of power—coupled with the fact that, for a few seconds, that surge of power had given you your eyesight back—well, Stiles could understand the temptation of going after your whole pack. He's not sure he would have done anything different in the man's place. And he couldn't fault him for a stint with insanity—not with how wholeheartedly he'd forgiven Peter.
Sure, their situations weren't the same, but what happened to Deucalion was horrible in its own right.
It was everything after that he was having trouble with. Though as he looked around the dirty, used couches littering the room, he knew this wasn't the time.
So Stiles clapped his hands together and gave his pack a look. Wow, that was going to take some getting used to. "No more of this. We're leaving."
"Excuse me?" Kali snarled, her top lip pulling back at the perceived order. Stiles could feel the hostility rushing through their bond, but said nothing for a beat of silence.
"I said, we're leaving." Stiles stated, staring at her for another moment before turning back to his Alpha. "I'm not letting our pack stay here. You can all stay at mine until we can find something better for all of us. But... yeah, no. This is not happening any longer."
"And we're coming with you why?" the she-wolf spat, her eyes bleeding red.
Before Stiles could say anything, Deucalion cut in, his voice cold and the order unmistakable. "Enough , Kali. It would do you well to show some respect to your pack members, especially those with more power than you."
Kali's eyes flashed again and she took a threatening step forward. Huh. Well, it was a pack of Alphas. "Is that a threat?"
"No!" Stiles jumped in, his voice going high, "No , no one is being threatened. If you want to sleep on a dirty mattress in this heap of shit, be my guest. The rest of you can come over if you would like, and stay in my fully furnished and heated home. I, at least, have a stove."
"I like stoves," one of the twins said, earning a smile from Cora.
"It's settled," Deucalion announced, and there was no question whether or not it was an order for all of them.
Stiles was not expecting the car park.
He never assumed that the Alphas were poor considering how much travelling they seemed to do, but he knew none of them held steady jobs. There was no way they could while traveling as often as they did. Stiles knew they often found part-time work where they were staying but he'd never found any record of anything insanely well paying. But... if they often stayed in places like this, Stiles was sure they could rack up a bit of money between the five of them.
But even considering that, Stiles was near certain they should not be able to afford the collection of vehicles he saw before him.
There were two twin motorcycles. Both bikes were shiny black and made of smooth lines and silver piping that seemed to glow in the moon. Stiles watched with a spike of envy as the twins mounted the bikes, helmets nowhere in sight as they talked quietly with one another. Scott's dirt bike was a joke in comparison. There was an oversized black Jeep that he had to guess belonged to Ennis just by the man's sheer size that he drooled over... a lot. His thoughts were confirmed when the man clambered in, easily climbing into its raised seating. The third was a small, sleek, gorgeous affair, also shiny black with smooth curves that looked entirely too expensive for the run-down pavement it was parked on.
Well... they certainly had a theme going.
"Would you mind driving, Stiles?" Deucalion asked, hands folded atop his cane as stood next to the passenger door of the little sports car.
Stiles nearly tripped over his own feet at the request, turning to stare wide-eyed at the man. He hadn't even noticed him leaving his side, too caught up in staring at the vehicles in front of him.
He could feel the anger rolling off Kali, and not just through their new pack bond. His magic was picking it up as well. The level of emotion she was putting out was jarring in its intensity, and there was no doubt in Stiles' mind that driving was her usual job.
He could only nod, though, and mutter out a quiet, "Sure," before turning to Peter.
Sure, he definitely didn't want to step on any toes, but he wasn't about to go against his brand new Alpha. Especially not when that Alpha was the Demon Wolf. Peter was watching him closely but Stiles could tell he had his senses trained on Kali, and for good reason.
"Who is Peter going to drive with?" he asked, his magic itching under his skin. He wouldn't leave him alone if he could help it, not with these people.
"He can sit in the back of the jeep with me!" Cora offered quickly, shooting Stiles a small smile that he easily returned, glad he wasn't the only one who didn't want to leave Peter with Kali and Ennis.
He didn't trust them, not yet.
He had seen more of Deucalion than just the man's memories. The trip into his mind had left him privy to some of Deucalion's most withheld and private thoughts. Stiles still felt horrible about it, doubly so when he realized the man most likely had no idea what had been done. It had been far too intimate for two people who until this night had been essentially enemies—definitely on different sides of the line the Alpha pack had so clearly drawn in the sand. It didn't feel right to know so much about Deucalion, and Stiles wished he hadn't seen what he had even if it had led him to where he was now.
Purposeful or not, Stiles felt like he had violated the Alpha. But now wasn't the time to think about that. Not when there was still so much to figure out.
Instead he sent a little of his spark towards Peter, letting his magic wrap around his Beta. He layered it over the wolf's skin, wrapping him up in a solid layer of protection. It was the most he could do at the moment and it didn't make him feel as secure as he would have liked, but he couldn't do anything else. Instead he sent Peter a smile, brushing his fingers over the back of his neck as he walked past him to leave behind a bit of his scent.
"Okay, yeah," Stiles agreed, finally walking over and grabbing the keys from Deucalion's outstretched hand before rounding the car carefully. It was intimidating, to say the least, and when he opened the door and looked at the interior, Stiles thought his mouth was going to water.
It wasn't like he was a huge car fan, but that didn't mean he didn't understand how nice this one was. It also didn't mean that he was ignorant of how much a vehicle like this would cost, which only made him more nervous as debated how to slide in.
He got in as carefully as he could, his ratty Converse entirely inadequate next to the interior. He was distinctly aware that he'd worn these jeans three times without washing them and that he had no idea when the last time he might have washed his hoodie was. Stiles felt almost dirty, trying to sit in the seat in a way that let as little of his attire touch the leather as possible.
"Calm down," Deucalion muttered at his side, his voice a deep rumble.
Stiles nodded, feeling beyond silly when he remembered the man wouldn't be able to see it. Instead of answering he sucked in a huge breath, holding it for a moment before slowly letting it go. He calmed his mind, forcing himself to think of nothing more than his breathing, the feel of the leather against his skin, and the slight breeze from the still open door.
"Sorry," he said quietly, softly closing the door beside him before turning to the Alpha. "I think I just needed a moment."
"That's quite alright," Deucalion told him quietly, smiling at him softly.
It was... well, it was strange. Stiles knew so much about what the man had done, knew almost all the evil he had committed, but... he felt safe. Stiles wasn't sure if it was due to the bond they nor shared and how strong the bond seemed to be. He wasn't sure if it was because of how much power they each held, or because he had invaded the man's mind, but something about the soft tether of light that was tying them together made Stiles feel infinitely more guilty for what he had done.
He heaved a sigh, resting his hands on his thighs as he tried to think of how to come out with it. If he was going to know more about the man than even he wanted to, he figured the best thing to do would be to let him know. But he was also hesitant to admit that he had no idea what he had been doing at the time. The Alpha pack was strong. The amount of collective power they held was staggering, and Stiles had only briefly felt it back at the bank. He didn't want his newfound Alpha thinking he might not measure up, that he might be unable to be a competent Emissary.
He was still fiddling with his fingers, anxiously wringing them together, when one of Deucalion's hands settled atop both of his. The man's skin was warm against his own, and his fingers were smooth where they wrapped around Stiles'. The gesture was comforting, but the feelings Deucalion was projecting down their bond were more so.
"Sorry," Stiles said again, trying to settle his fingers before turning to face Deucalion. "Okay, so. Right. I have something to tell you. When... we were in the clearing, I uh, I—"
"Took a look into my memories?" the Alpha supplied with a small grin on his face.
"What?!" Stiles exclaimed, jumping a little in his seat.
This whole time, he'd already known?
"Did you think I hadn't felt it as well?" Deucalion asked.
"Well obviously I thought you didn't know!" Stiles said, throwing his hands out.
"I… well, I do understand why you would do that," Deucalion began, moving his hand higher up and rubbing at Stiles' wrist with his fingertips, "It was a smart move—to go as deeply as you did. It is one of the reasons I've asked you to become my Emissary."
"I—" Stiles began, but faltered quickly.
This wasn't what he wanted.
Deucalion had asked Stiles to be his emissary because thought Stiles looked through his mind on purpose. There was no way he wasn't going to be disappointed when he learned the truth.
Stiles hadn't meant to spell Deucalion and he had no idea how he even had, but he didn't want the Deucalion to think lowly of him for it. He didn't... he didn't want to show weakness and risk the man abandoning him and Peter. It wasn't even because he was scared, either.
No. Stiles knew he couldn't handle losing a second pack, even if this one was still so new to him, even if the members were still so distant. The bonds were so much stronger than anything he'd ever felt before, fueled on by his magic and his oath as Emissary.
No, he wouldn't be able to handle it if these bonds were broken as well.
But he couldn't lie, not about this. It didn't feel right to let the man think he invaded his privacy on purpose, especially when he hadn't meant to.
"It was, well, it was an accident," Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm sorry I ever saw so much. If I had known what I was doing, I never would have done that."
Deucalion smiled softly at him, the expression looking entirely foreign on the wolf's face given everything Stiles knew about him. It wasn't a bad look, that was for sure, and Stiles figured he would be fine if he saw it more often. "I could tell that too. You didn't recover nearly as well as you thought you did. Your surprise was entirely obvious—or did it escape your mind that I could smell your emotions?"
His tone was teasing, though Stiles did blush. He had actually forgotten.
"Look, Stiles, it doesn't matter. I knew you didn't do it on purpose, and that may be the best part. The amount of power you have is—well, it's extraordinary. Of course I'd want you as my Emissary."
"Oh, alright. Well that's really cool then!"
The drive was quiet, and Stiles spnt it sporting a small smile. He was thankful for what Deucalion had said, and it turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear, even if he hadn't quite known it before he heard it. It did reassure him though, and it was enough to make the ride home rather pleasant. Stiles made sure to keep the back of his mind focused on Peter, making sure his beta was okay the whole time. It wasn't so much that he thought Kali would actually do something to the man, he just didn't trust her enough not to, and that was enough reason for him to be cautious.
All was well when they pulled into his driveway, though. The drive over had been incredibly fun—the car's engine literally purred as he drove it. Even on the bumpy back roads it drove smoothly, all but gliding over the ground. When they drove on a long, straight strip of street, Stiles floored the engine, shouting out with glee as the car raced to comply. Deucalion had laughed alongside him, and Stiles felt lighter than he had in a long, long time.
He tried not to think about just why that was, but he knew having a pack was already making a huge impact on him.
Clambering out of the car, Stiles tried his best to be careful, unwilling to harm such a beautiful vehicle. The bikes and Jeep were all parked in front of Stiles' house, and his own Jeep was taking up half the driveway. He hoped his dad wouldn't be too mad about them stealing his spot—especially with the news he would be coming home to—and would just park behind the Jeep.
Really, he was entirely too thankful to see that his father wasn't home. He had no idea how to explain to the man that the group of people they had gone to stop, to protect the Hale pack from, were now for all intents and purposes... family. That they were pack , and what pack meant and what Stiles had done, bonding with the Alpha as his Emissary. He knew his dad would be far from pleased, but Stiles just hoped Peter would be able to reason with him.
God, he really hoped Peter would be able to reason with him.
Which... really might be difficult, since even Peter didn't know why Stiles had decided to trust the Alphas. He would have to tell Peter soon—not only because he had discovered a new aspect of his magic and was quite proud of it, but because the man deserved to know why he had submitted to a new Alpha. It wouldn't be fair to keep the information private, at least, not all of it.
Peter was waiting for him on the front lawn with the rest of the... of his pack. It was strange to see them all standing together. Stiles had done so much research into the Alpha pack that he thought he knew each one of them, but—well, if Deucalion was anything to go by, he clearly didn't.
Stiles didn't waste any more time moving across the lawn. Deuclaion had his cane out, so it seemed like he didn't need—or want—Stiles' help. Their neighbours were already going to have a field day—Stiles didn't need to give them any more ammunition.
"I thought you had a key now?" Stiles teased, walking up to Peter and hip-checking him out of the way of the front door when the man didn't move.
"Oh hush!" Peter admonished, but Stiles was sure the man was blushing. Stiles just grinned, ridiculously pleased that two people he cared about so much were so happy, and together at that.
And besides, it wasn't as though he didn't totally think they were awesome together.
"What's that about?" Cora asked, face lighting with something that seemed to be joy.
"Peter is dating my dad," Stiles informed her, smiling when she squealed and Peter shot a harsh glare at him.
"Oh, Peter's got a boyfrie-end!" Cora sing-songed, stretching out the word and smirking at the older man as Stiles watched, laughing, before he pushed into his house.
He went straight for the kitchen, turning the oven on to heat up and looking through the freezer. There was probably enough for everyone, but with wolves it was all but impossible to know. Either way he pulled all seven oven pizzas out, cringing a little at what they must have cost. That was seven entire meals being eaten in one night—something they really couldn't get away with financially.
"Thank you."
Stiles startled at the noise, turning quickly to see Ennis towering just inside the doorway. The man looked uncomfortable, with his back still straight and his shoulders thrown back. He made an intimidating figure, and would even if Stiles didn't already know he was a werewolf.
"Sure?"
"For opening up your home, I mean. Thank you," the wolf clarified, still looking straight at Stiles.
Stiles just stared for a moment, admittedly having no idea what in the hell was happening in front of him. This was definitely something he had never expected, and he was rather unequipped to handle it. Finally he muttered out a hesitant, "Uh, no problem?"
When the man finally left the kitchen Stiles sighed, sliding the first two pizzas into the oven once the preheat light went off.
It was going to be an interesting night.
Come To Bed
Chapter Notes
See end notes for warning.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
As it turned out, seven frozen pizzas were not enough food to feed a pack of five Alphas, two Betas, and a powerful Spark.
Deucalion had walked into the kitchen, firmly told Stiles that there was no way there'd be enough food at the house to feed them all, and then proceeded to order pizza. A lot of pizza. It hadn't taken long to get there—surprising, given the size of their order—but Deucalion had kept him pleasant company in the kitchen, leaning against the island with his folded cane in his hand, chatting amicably.
Deucalion was... kind of funny. He had a dry wit that Stiles very quickly came to adore, and his accent just made everything he said sound better. And alright, Stiles could admit that the man's sharp jaw—dusted with stubble as it was—plus that accent was an intriguing combination. Stiles just couldn't pinpoint what type of intrigued he was, which was a little alarming.
He wasn't, like, attracted to him, but Stiles did find himself staring a little more than he maybe should have. Which didn't mean anything! They'd just bonded, and their bond was, like, super strong. It was normal for Stiles to be staring at him, all things considered.
And... alright, maybe he was a little attracted. Only a little!
But—
Stiles wasn't really into denying himself things he enjoyed, and he enjoyed looking at Deucalion. He did try not to think about it, think about him, too much, though, since he wasn't sure what his scent might be giving away. He was pretty sure that if he started thinking about how attractive Deucalion actually was, then... well, needless to say that would be entirely too embarrassing. Besides, it wasn't like it was his fault he was a teenage boy with teenage-boy-level hormones. He was attracted to what he was attracted to—and apparently middle-aged, British Alphas with homicidal tendencies did it for him.
Like really did it for him.
Yeah, that wasn't something he needed to think about.
Luckily he was saved from further thought when the doorbell rang, and the rest of his new pack piled into the kitchen to eat once Peter had handled the pizza man and brought their food into the room.
Stiles hadn't realized how hungry he was until the Alpha set a large pizza down in front of him and he dug in, tucking away slices quicker than he knew he was capable of. The oven pizzas (which Stiles had still cooked) had all gone to Ennis, who, Stiles learned, didn't enjoy all the grease that pizzaria pies often had.
He was really glad, since letting that much food go to waste would have been horrible, seeing as he'd managed to stack them all into the oven at once.
The Alphas remained standing, sans Deucalion who took a seat beside him at the dining room table, the two of them joined by Peter and Cora. The other four stood around the island, stacks of pizza boxes open between them. Kali seemed especially tense, standing straight. Her eyes continuously jumped around the room, and Stiles, maybe a little paranoid, took a moment to make sure that his wards were still standing strong.
Ennis wasn't nearly as tense, slouched over Kali and stuffing pizza into his mouth at a rather impressive rate. The larger man sent Stiles a smile here and there, even thanking him for his effort with dinner which was really appreciated. It felt even better when Deucalion repeated the sentiment.
Even though he hadn't ordered the pizzas, it... well it felt good, like he was providing for his pack.
Most of the meal was quiet, and clean up was quick. The pizza company had sent a ridiculous amount of paper plates along with all their pizzas, so Stiles just gathered them up. Just the idea of having to keep up with the amount of dishes they would no-doubt be generating if they were going to stay for any length of time sent dread pooling in Stiles' belly, and he made sure to store all the ones that weren't used.
He piled up the pop cans that had been ordered beside the sink, committed to taking them out into the garage later on but not quite feeling like leaving the pack alone, in his house, with only Peter watching them.
Once he was done moving about the kitchen—which the Alphas had all creepily watched him do—he directed everyone into the living room. He reminded himself that it was his pack sprawling out along the furniture after Peter and Cora had made themselves comfortable. It was probably obvious just how much time Peter had been spending there recently, the way his scent must be ingrained in the room. By the way Cora was smirking, Stiles could guess Peter would be getting teased in the near future.
Stiles was not looking forward to seeing it. Not at all.
Stiles realized they hardly had enough furniture for every one once the pack had settled in. Cold count creeped up his belly, but he ignored it as well as he could. He needed to focus on what was happening right now, and not get ahead of himself.
The twins took the love seat, Cora sitting in the lap of the same one who had mentioned his affection for stoves at the bank. Ennis was sitting in the sheriff's armchair, looking incredibly comfortable for a wolf in a new place. His eyes were half-lidded as he leaned back and pulled up the foot rest, clearly settling in. Kali was still standing, leaning against the entryway to the living room, and Stiles could see the tense lines of her shoulders from across the room. Peter and Deucalion both sat on opposite ends of the couch and Stiles found himself between them, the warm line of Deucalion's body close enough for him to feel the Alpha's supernatural heat.
The TV was playing, though he wasn't sure if anyone other than Peter and Kali were watching it. Cora and the twins were having their own soft conversation, and Ennis still appeared to be... actually, Stiles was pretty sure the man was asleep. Stiles stifled a laugh (the man looked kinda adorable conked out) and focused on the warmth inside his chest, looking at his newly acquired pack bonds and poking them with glee.
Stiles' brow drew in as he focused on the bond between him and Deucalion, feeling around it curiously. He was having entirely too much fun doing so, and since Deucalion wasn't saying anything, he didn't stop.
The bond he shared with his Alpha was strong. He'd never felt anything like it, and it definitely wasn't anything like the bond he'd had Derek. Stiles could clearly feel what the wolf was feeling, and the more Stiles explored, the more certain he was that with practice they could send thoughts along the twinkling line of bred red power. He'd never expected a pack bond to feel like this; the bond had so many different layers, and the complexity was the most beautiful thing Stiles had ever seen. It sat large and bright inside Stiles' chest, the bond connecting an Alpha to an Emissary, and it thrummed with a power all of its own, separate from either of them.
It was... gorgeous, the combination of both their power twined together, mixed with something that existed purely from their bond.
Something on the TV exploded, and Stiles slumped a little more to the side. He wasn't so much cuddling as he was just... sucking up heat from the wolf's body, but it felt good either way. When Deucalion lifted his arm to settle it over Stiles' shoulders and pull the boy closer—confident and sure in his welcome—Stiles went with it, letting himself be pulled close, turning his torso to cuddle closer, before finally wrapping an arm around Deucalion's waist.
He tried not to think about what it meant. Instead he focused on how it felt, which was warm, incredibly so, but Stiles wasn't complaining. Deucalion smelled like pine, fresh and crisp where Stiles' face was pressed into his shoulder. The whole scene reminded him of past Christmases, curling up against his father on the couch, half asleep as holiday movies played on the TV.
It was something they'd done for years, even back when his mother was still alive. Stiles wasn't sure what it said that he was comparing those nights to now, and he wasn't sure he had the energy to figure it out.
But he felt much like he had then, safe and content and warm. He curled up closer, face heating in a blush when the man holding him brushed a kiss against his forehead. He wasn't sure what he was projecting along the bond, but Deucalion felt settled. Happy, content, and just a little smug when Stiles rubbed his face into his chest, leaving his scent on Deucalion's shirt.
He heard Peter chuckle behind him but ignored his teasing, and instead, Stiles let his eyes drop closed.
Stiles never quite fell asleep, but he toyed with the line of consciousness for a while. It was nice to just drift, letting sleep come and go as he cuddled up to Deucalion, who was unbelievably comfortable. He was aware of the passing time, knew that eventually he would have to move, but the man he was basically laying on was warm; Deucalion's hard muscles proved to be a far better pillow that Stiles would've thought. He wondered what it would be like to lay himself over Deucalion completely, starfishing out over the Alpha like he was a mattress.
Deucalion hummed lowly and tightened his hold, his lips once again brushing Stiles' hairline, further pulling Stiles into wakefulness. He whined softly in protest, comfortable where he was, but Deucalion's answering chuckle vibrated through his head and pulled him up the rest of the way. He rolled to his other side to get to Peter, seeking out cuddles. The other wolf let him cuddle close and rub his face all over his prickly neck, leaving behind his scent and feeling his spark settle a little at the action.
He knew his magic didn't get anything from scent marking his pack, that something like scent was entirely irrelevant to him, but it still made him feel lighter knowing that other supernaturals would be able to smell Stiles on him. It made him feel settled knowing that their bond would be obvious. He's already started to think of Peter as a father figure, and... honestly, Stiles was pretty sure he would've felt the same way even if the wolf hadn't been dating his dad.
With a loud sigh he flopped backwards, starfishing himself on the couch and hitting the couch's two other occupants with his limbs. He grinned when they mock-growled at the same time, the two turning to face each other. Peter's brows shot high, but then he startled out a laugh and after a moment Deucalion followed suit.
It seemed to drain any tension that had been in the room, and for that Stiles was glad. Even Kali relaxed further against the wall, and an easy smile stole over his face.
"Ugh, sleeping arrangements." Stiles tapped his index finger against his lips as he hummed in thought. "Alright, so we have a guest bedroom upstairs that Kali and Ennis can have? And there's a really comfortable couch in the basement, if someone wants that. The couch up here has a fold-out mattress, too," Stiles informed them, watching as Cora grinned wickedly at the twin whose lap she had her feet in. The boy just sighed and shoved her feet off, rolling his eyes as his brother smirked at him.
"I'll take the couch, those two can have the bed," he said, though he didn't feel seriously upset over the bond when Stiles gently poked at it, and he was beginning to think this sort of teasing between the three of them was normal.
"Okay, I think that gets everyone a place to sleep then?" he said, and ignored the way Peter was smirking at him. Rude!
He stood up promptly, ignoring the wolf and instead pulling Deucalion up with him. Stiles blinked up shyly when the man stood up, a little too close for comfort even though Stiles had practically been sleeping on him only minutes ago. It was... easier, in the dark, when he was toying the line of sleep. Now, he had no idea how to bring it up, but he knew what he wanted, and what he wanted was to stay close.
Stiles wasn't sure exactly what he was feeling for the man—whether it was a reaction to their newly formed bond or something more genuine—but he knew Deucalion was feeling it too. Just a simple look at their bond made it obvious that both of them were itching to remain close.
It was with that thought that he continued to pull the man up the stairs without saying anything, leading him with a hand on his wrist. Peter followed behind them without saying a word, keeping a few steps between them.
Peter sent a brief flicker of worry along their bond when he reached the last step, and Stiles smiled to himself as he sent reassurance back along the bond he shared with his Beta. Thankfully, Peter let it go, and he only sent Stiles one final look before he turned away to hear towards his dad's room.
With one last smile sent Peter's way, Stiles made his way to his own room with his Alpha now dutifully trailing behind him, his hand settled low on Stiles' back (really right above the swell of his ass, Stiles' thought with a little thrill he didn't know what to do with) as he let Stiles continue to lead him. The soft click of the door shutting behind them sounded entirely too loud in the otherwise silent room, and Stiles had never been good with silences.
"I figured we could share? It's a queen, so there's plenty of space!" It wasn't a lie even with the way his heart was racing, and Stiles was pleased to note that even with the fast thumping, his heart didn't stumble and his voice sounded far more steady than he felt.
"Sounds amenable," Deucalion said just as softly, though his voice was nowhere as sure as Stiles would've expected.
When he finally looked up, Deucalion was just...standing there, his back a stiff line as he stayed unmoving. Stiles wasn't even convinced Deucalion was breathing, but he moved further into his room anyway, not quite sure how to handle the Alpha now that they were completely alone with the weight of their bond sitting between them.
"So... I'm going to get undressed?" Stiles' voice raised at the end like he was asking a question, just in case that's what was making Deuclaion seem so uncomfortable.
He could be reading it wrong, but he knew the man was interested in him. He'd felt it when he was first looking through their bond on the couch, and he could still feel it now when he looked. It was decidedly mutual, but it wasn't like Stiles was going to act on it after the few hours they'd been bonded. They weren't going to do anything other than sleep, that much was obvious to him, and he wasn't sure why Deucalion would be hesitant to share a bed.
Wolves were tactile creatures, weren't they?
Stiles tugged out of his clothes, not worrying about putting on a show since the man couldn't see it anyway, though that didn't mean he was any less calm. Stiles was still grateful that Deucalion kept his face turned away, though the man's shoulders were still a sharp, tense line. It worried Stiles, and made him nervous to feel around their bond. There weren't any emotions being emitted strong enough for him to feel outright, but he knew it would only take a little effort to know what the man was thinking.
"I-I'm undressed now," he said into the silence, standing awkwardly in his boxer because he didn't know what else to do, how else to get the man to move.
He wished he could say otherwise, but he watched as Deucalion stripped out of his slacks wordlessly, his shirt soon following. In just a pair of briefs, the man was absolutely stunning, and the sight of him almost naked and in his room was enough to get Stiles' heart to double in speed. It only quickened further when the Alpha held out the shirt he'd just taken off, though the slight shake of his hand belied his faux confidence.
Despite only knowing each other for hours, Stiles knew what Deucalion wanted from him. Stiles took it and quickly put it on, twisting his torso and moving his arms slightly as he enjoyed how loosely it laid on him with a small smile.
He settled himself on the edge of his bed and waited. Deucalion was still standing stiffly, though he had a faint smile on his face as he scented the air, obviously pleased. It was an adorable sight, and one Stiles hoped he never forgot—Deucalion standing in the middle of his room, his head cocked slightly to the side as he sniffed at the air, smiling softly to himself.
Stiles couldn't help but be distracted, though. There was so much skin, and Stiles wanted to look everywhere but the man still hadn't moved. His hands were clenched into tight fists at his side. Their bond was screaming at him, a mix of negative, painful emotions that moved Stiles to stan and step towards Deucalion slowly, gently letting his hands trail from the man's shoulders to his face, where he softly grabbed at the dark glasses.
Deucaloin's breath hitched before he let out a shuddering sigh that Stiles' felt against his nose. It was entirely more intimate than Stiles intended, though he didn't feel uncomfortable.
Even being the predator that he was, Deucalion hadn't felt anything less than safe, and that didn't change even now. Stiles rubbed gentle thumbs along the bottom of the man's glasses, ghosting feather-light over the skin of his under eyes and smiling softly at the soft inhale Deucalion took. It was... fuck, Stiles didn't even know. All he knew was that their bond was screaming with potential, and it felt limitless as it sung between them.
But... he pulled himself back, and instead he let Deucalion make the decision. He didn't want the bond to be the only reason something happened—and Stiles wasn't even entirely sure if everything he was feeling, everything that was swirling around in his chest, was being reciprocated.
"It-it's far from pretty," Deucalion whispered, his lips twisting upwards into something that looked more like a grimace than a smile.
"I... it's okay. I don't care," Stiles said just as softly, finally taking the glasses off the man's face and settling them onto his bedside table.
Oh... wow. Behind his glasses laid a scattering of scars. They were... they were bad. They were dark red and painful looking, pulling tight at the surrounding, puckered skin. They covered the entirety of his eyes, and even his eyelids seemed to be scared deeply even as his eyes fluttered open to reveal moon-light irises that stiles Stiles' breath.
Drawn in, he ran the tip of his finger over a long scar, one of the ones that had peeked out around his glasses, and he didn't stop even as Deucalion sucked in a sharp breath of air.
"Come to bed," Stiles whispered as he stepped back.
Deucalion followed after him.
Stiles woke up too warm, squirming and kicking at his covers to try and cool down. His foot hit flesh and panic striked, causing him to struggle harder. Suddenly, the arm wrapped around his waist tightened as he was pulled closer against someone's body, which whited out his senses with pure terror. Stiles fought, lashing out as he tried to get free. No— no. He had said no, he had said no and Gerard didn't care, didn't—he didn't care.
Now it was happening all over again. Stiles tried to wiggle free, but the grip Gerard had on him was too tight, and he couldn't move, couldn't get out, and all over again Gerard was going to take too much.
He... knew the cement had been cold, hard against his cheek as he was held down. It didn't feel like cement now, but that didn't matter. Gerard was there holding tight and—and... Stiles sucked in a sharp breath to try and relieve the burning of his chest and fought harder, kicking out a leg behind him and throwing out his elbow.
All he wanted was to claw himself out of his skin.
Gerard grunted behind him—his voice sounded off, different than his moaning had sounded as he held Stiles down. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered more than getting away. Stiles pushed again, trying to scramble away, and—falling? The weight around him was gone and he lost his balance, falling to the floor and hitting it hard. He crawled away, terror making it hard to breathe, hard to think. Needing to get away, Stiles pulled himself into the corner, wrapping his arms tightly around himself as he shook and shook and shook until his teeth clattered together. Gerard was saying his name, but his voice, his voice, his—
Peter.
Stiles' eyes flew open, staring straight into the electric blue eyes of his Beta, and he launched himself forward to bury himself against the man's chest. He breathed deeply, not daring to close his eyes even though the only thing he could see was the pink of Peter's nipple right next to his face. Peter smelt like home, like safety, and Stiles forced himself to calm down as reality set it. It was hard to will away the too-vivid flashback.
He'd never... he had never had a nightmare that bad before, and he'd never woken up so disoriented and confused.
Usually when Stiles dreamed about Gerard, he screamed himself into consciousness to find his father gently brushing his hair back but only holding him close once Stiles became aware of where he was, once he realized that he wasn't still in his dream. This time had been different, drifting into consciousness already being held by someone he didn't know, his body already pressed tight to... his Alpha?
Stiles heard a loud groan from across the room, and his head snapped up. Deucalion.
The Alpha wolf was crumpled against the floor opposite him, plaster covering his body from where Stiles must have thrown him into the wall. Deucalion blinked his eyes open, his mess of scars vividly clear now without his glasses, and he felt more than heard Peter's heartbeat tick at the sight. Deucalion's face seemed to search out Stiles, and he felt their bond hum loudly, apology and regret hanging heavy between them on both sides.
Stiles stood on shaking news, pushing up against Peter's shoulders to help himself stand before he made his way across his room. His knees still shaky as the adrenaline fled his body, leaving him feeling too weak and too fragile. He dropped onto his knees in front of Deucalion with a loud thud and a shock of pain he ignored, discomfort, concern, and remorse heavy in his chest.
It was such a contrast to what Stiles had felt the night before, the heady feeling of acceptance and affection, even the soft attraction as they had cuddled on the couch, that it made him feel sick.
He pulled Deucalion close, tucking himself into the man's chest much the same he had with Peter, and pulling the man's arms around himself when Deucalion didn't initially move. Deucalion was—well, not staring, but his face was tilted towards Stiles', his lips pulled down in a frown and brow bone drawn downwards. Stiles just sighed when Deucalion remained tense and withdrawn, all but climbing into Deucalion's lap and poking him in the side until he gave in and hugged Stiles tight.
He wanted to make sure Deucalion knew that it wasn't his fault, that Stiles' reaction hadn't been because of something he had done. He just wanted Deucalion to smile again, for the sharp, twisting emotions of dread and worthlessness that were screaming along their bond to stop. It had been so different the night before, when he had slowly climbed in beside Stiles as though doubtful of the entry Stiles was gladly granting him, but not daring to let it slip away.
He wanted that back.
Stiles sighed against the wolf's neck, breathing in a deep lungful of his scent. Now that he was out of the nightmare, he just wanted to be close, and didn't care about the other energies he could feel in the room—though he did send a hefty amount of reassurance down the bond at Peter. He really was okay—shaken, sure, and feeling infinitely safer with someone holding him—but... he was okay.
It wasn't even the worst nightmare he'd had, just the worst reaction to one.
Deucalion was holding on tightly as well, and hopefully—hopefully he got it. Stiles had never thought he would see such a vulnerable side to the "Demon Wolf", hadn't ever imagined that he would be allowed to see something so vulnerable, but Deucalion wasn't hiding from him. He hadn't even hid the night before, when Stiles had taken off the man's glasses, and he was thankful for it.
The way Deucalion was holding him now, the way he'd held Stiles last night, felt… it felt like forgiveness, for looking into the man's mind earlier, like the man was showing Stiles a hidden part of himself voluntarily.
Stiles appreciated that, far more than he knew how to express so he sent his gratitude down their bond, smiling into the man's skin when he was hugged tighter. He wasn't sure why, but he knew they could work through this. With the weight of their bond between them, it felt like they could work through anything.
"Stiles, why is the grown man you're sitting on not wearing any clothing?" Dad's voice shocked him out of the soft moment. His voice was decidedly firm, and there was a thread of disappointment that made Stiles wince.
He chanced a glance away up from Deuclaion's neck to find the man standing with an arm around Peter's waist with the beta's face tucked against his neck. Stiles breathed out a little sigh that Peter was okay, and he let his shoulders slump when his dad didn't appear to be too mad, mostly looking concerned.
And since he wasn't mad, Stiles did what he always did when he felt unsteady, and reflected with sarcasm.
He raised a brow at his father and sent an unimpressed look at his neck. "Ya know, I'm not sure your uniform is going to cover all those... mysteriously acquired bruises."
He smirked while Dad stood there, mouth gaping open even as one hand raised to cover the side of his neck that Peter wasn't tucked again. He turned his glare at Peter, and Peter pulled away enough that Stiles was able to see the smirk spread across his face as his eyes flashed bright blue. Stiles giggled at the exchange, settling more comfortably against his Alpha. Deucalion's emotions were thankfully calmer as he hesitantly accepted Stiles' weight and held him close.
Stiles focused on that, on how nice it was to be so close to his Alpha. Their bond was still shining bright and new between them, and despite the mishap of that morning, Stiles knew he would do whatever it took to keep it strong.
Chapter End Notes
Warning: Mention of rape, vague description and slight flashback.
Dude, You're Our Emissary Now
Stiles' father didn't force him to go into school the next morning, and for that he was seriously grateful. There was no way Stiles would have been prepared to face his old pack. He was sure they would question him, most likely accuse him, and there was no way Derek would be happy about what happened. Well, Stiles did get his Betas back, so there was a chance Derek would give him some leeway for that, but... it was unlikely that facing the back would be anything short of miserable.
Actually, Derek would probably just be mad that he hadn't been able to do so himself.
Oh yeah, that would definitely make for a good day.
But it didn't matter, since Stiles didn't plan on leaving the house for the day. He was still feeling wrung out from his nightmare, and emotionally exhausted from the ensuing panic. He had crawled back into bed and pulled Deucalion with him, trying to soothe the man's guilt after he'd kicked Dad and Peter out of the room. Stiles wasn't sure how to make it better, but he knew he needed to try.
It really wasn't Deucalion's fault. Stiles' panic had had anything to do with Deucalion at all, actually. Stiles didn't blame him, especially as he invited the man into his bed in the first place, so he wanted to make sure that the Alpha didn't blame himself, either.
He was tired enough that Stiles had gotten to sleep a little better afterward. The second time he went to bed, he curled himself around Deucalion, tucking the man's back to his chest and pulling him in close so he could nuzzle at the Alpha's neck. He hadn't woken from a nightmare later that morning, thankfully , but he was almost certain that if he had, he would've been fine. Heck, he was pretty sure that having Deucalion in his arms maybe would have helped.
It would certainly be easier to ground himself in reality if he had a slab of hot werewolf in his arms.
Stiles couldn't stay in bed forever, though, so when he finally admitted he was awake, he went downstairs. He climbed down the stairs, anxiety settling in his gut. He knew bringing Deucalion to bed hadn't been the best idea, which he could see clearer now than last night. In the moment, though, it had seemed perfectly reasonable to bring an Alpha, more than twice his age, up to bed with him. It was just... their bond had been glowing so beautifully between them. Stiles had gotten lost in how beautiful the connection was, their bond lighting up so prettily. It had been so easy to lose himself inside of it, and it was even easier to let the intimacy they shared be magnified by their bond.
But Stiles was thinking clearly now, and he could see how—sudden, his actions were.
Their bond had just been so strong, so sweet and alluring twined between them. Stiles wasn't even sure if everything he thought he was feeling for Deucalion—the acceptance, the appreciation, the soft attraction—was genuine, or if it was something crafted from the bond. Hell, they'd just met! Stiles had no idea why he would have let the man sleep in his bed, let alone allow Deucalion to curl up behind him.
He had no idea how he'd felt so safe, or how he could possibly warm to the man so quickly.
It had to have something to do with the bond, but—but Stiles wasn't even sure he wanted it to stop. He liked the attention. He liked the way Deucalion felt pulsing in his chest and how the man's hand had felt wrapped around his in the car, or how his chest had felt against his cheek, or his back to Stiles' chest. He liked having someone he could hold close, someone that could count on to be there for him.
Maybe it was the bond making it easier, making him less hesitant or less guarded, but... he didn't think it was making Stiles feel anything he didn't want to feel right?
But Stiles didn't know anything of Deucalion other than what his research had provided and what he had glimpsed going inside the man's mind. It created two conflicting images, and Stiles wasn't sure which one, if either of them, was who Deucalion even was.
The two ideas were so different that he almost had trouble seeing them as the same person. The Demon Wolf was unforgiving and ruthless in his reign. He played at executioner with ease, seeming to have no problem with taking lives as he travelled around the world with hsi roaming pack of Alphas.
But Stiles had seen more. He had seen so much more, and he had seen what Deucalion was and what he could have been—maybe even what he could be again. He had been a fair Alpha who had been kind to his pack, who had listened to the opinions of his Betas and endlessly put their needs before his own. He had cared for others, and it looked like he had been a peacemaker.
Throughout the night, Stiles had gotten other glimpses of memories, tinged in his magic the same way they'd been in the clearing. Deucalion had been an Alpha who tried for treaties with other packs, who reached out when they needed help.
And Stiles could see him being that type of Alpha again. He wanted to see him be that sort of Alpha again. Sitles didn't know if he would be enough to help Deucalion get there, but he was going to try to be. He had to. Stiles wanted to be part of a pack he was proud of, could put his faith into and gladly walk alongside. He wanted to be a part of a pack that he loved, a pack that was all the things he's read a pack should be.
That wasn't what the Alphas were now, but maybe they could be more than what they were.
Stiles hoped they could, and he would do whatever it took to get them there.
The kitchen was bustling with activity when Stiles finally stepped down from the staircase and took the few steps to the kitchen's entrance. He took a moment to watch, something warm and possessive unfurling from inside his chest until it was all that he could feel. This was why he would do anything for his pack. They might be strangers, but Stiles just knew, deep in his chest where his magic sat, that they could be so much more.
His dad and Ennis were manning the stove side by side, while Peter and Kali were sitting at the island, watching and talking quietly. He wasn't sure how comfortable he was with Kali sitting so close to Peter, not with how hesitant she seemed to be with all of them, but if his Beta felt safe there was nothing he could do about it.
Stiles entered the room quietly, giving himself a moment to soak up the domesticity before him. Their kitchen wasn't often a place where people gathered. Aside from the mandatory cooking he and his father did to keep themselves fed, they didn't spend a lot of time in the room. Back when she had still been alive, the kitchen had been his mother's domain, a room where she held the reins.
It always felt too big without her laugh to fill it.
But watching his new pack members move around the room, Ennis towering in the space as he laughed deeply with Stiles' dad, he felt something warm up inside him. It wasn't the same as his mom humming to a tune only she heard, dancing around as his father watched, love-struck—but it was... good. It was really, really good. It could maybe be great, if they worked for it.
He leaned back and hit Deucalion's chest, which caused a surprised-sounding 'oh' to fall from his lips. Since waking up, Stiles had noticed that their bond was already so much stronger than it had been just last night, and it shone brighter between them. Because of the way it glowed between them, he had been able to feel it when the Alpha finally woke, and he'd been able to track his energy as he moved down the stairs.
When Deucalion had settled behind him, Stiles had known.
He wasn't sure just why he felt so safe, why he didn't flinch when the man placed a loose arm around his waist. A large palm settled on his belly, pressing at him through the thin material of his shift as Deucalion softly hugged him to his chest. It could be the bond influencing him, coaxing him into trusting his Alpha, but... he wasn't sure if that was really it. Not totally.
The bonds he held with the other pack members—except for Peter, who sat warmly in his chest—weren't nearly as strong as the one connecting him to his Alpha. He was hesitant to think about why the one with Deucalion would feel so much stronger in the same amount of time. Sure, he knew a fair bit about Alpha and Emissary bonds and the way they worked. Over the summer, he'd done a fair bit of reading and research on the topic when he thought that he could maybe be that for Derek, but it wasn't something that he looked into for weeks.
He knew how strong they could become, and equally how hard they were to break.
Unless something happened, unless... unless Deucalion died, he would probably stay bonded to the Alpha for the rest of his life. It was a staggering sort of thought to have now, with Deucalion hugging him from behind as they stood in his kitchen, and the realization seemed to rock through him.
That... was a little overwhelming. Deucalion's arm around his waist tightened as the Alpha pulled him firmer against his chest, and Stiles tried not to let himself panic over it. He had known the gravity of the decision he was making back in the forest, but, in that moment, he hadn't seen any other way to get everyone out alive.
Not with the way the Hale pack had been acting, and the blatant disrespect they'd shown to a group of Alphas who could, quite easily, had killed them all in minutes.
And even if he hadn't been a part of the pack, even if he'd already been pushed aside, he wasn't going to let people he once cared about die. Not even that, but they were teenagers, thrust into the supernatural just like he'd been. They didn't deserve that.
So Stiles had done what he thought was right. What he thought was the only option. He had known, feeling the stretch of the Alpha's flood into the clearing, that he wouldn't have been able to do anything to stop them if they'd decided to attack. So instead, he'd made it so they wouldn't attack—even if the decision he went with had been on the extreme side. In the end, it worked out
The Hale pack, his father, and the town were now safe from the Alphas.
Stiles was a part of the Alpha pack. He had bonds unlike anything that he'd ever felt before. And he had a bond with an Alpha, with his Alpha, that shined brighter than any other bond sat within his chest. He didn't know why it was so much stronger, not for sure, but he had suspicions and for now...
For now, he watched as his father cooked alongside Ennis, as Peter chatted with Kali, and focused on how Deucalion felt as a warm weight at his back.
Even with so much uncertainty, with so much he didn't know, he found it hard to think he'd made the wrong choice.
Breakfast turned into a louder affair than Stiles had ever experienced in his house. The pack had set up in both the kitchen and the living room, their four-person table not enough to fit everyone. His father and Ennis had cooked more than enough, going through multiple cartons of eggs and cooking more breakfast meats than Stiles had ever imagined seeing at one time.
It was nice, the noise. Their house had been too quiet for too long after his mother's death, when there was only Stiles, far too young to be taking care of himself the way he was. It wasn't something he often thought about these days, not when it was so far in the past and so much had changed since that time.
It just wasn't important anymore.
Especially not now, when their house now had so much life in it. Deucalion had followed Stiles into the living room with a hand at the small of his back, letting Stiles lead him. Stiles was quickly becoming used to leading the other man, and he wasn't going to complain, not when Deucalion's skin felt warm through the man's borrowed shirt, the one he had slept in and never changed out of.
He held Deuc's plate as the man sat himself on the loveseat and Stiles followed suit, crossing his legs when he sat so that his knee rested atop the Alpha's thigh. The physical contact felt so easy between them, which was definitely a result of their bond. As Stiles settled in and started eating, he knew there was a conversation they needed to have, but he wasn't averse to putting it off. He didn't want to find out how much the bond was influencing Deucalion.
Stiles looked up when the twins and Cora entered the room. It was hard to tell them apart, even with their bonds shining within his chest. It was obvious that Cora favored one of them, and if Stiles let his magic rise in his chest, let it bleed into his eyes, he could see the tighter bond between those two. It was sweeter than the one Cora shared with the other twin and pretty different than the one the two twins shared with one another.
"Cora is dating Aiden," Deucalion said quietly into his ear, breath hot against his skin in a way that made Stiles shiver.
He could hardly do more than nod, his next breath shaky.
He looked at the three on the couch and closed his eyes, letting the pack bonds he could feel in his chest glow brighter while he focused on them. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking away his inner magic and focusing back to the present. Aiden's bond was sharper than Ethan's, and now that he had figured that out he felt more comfortable with telling them apart. Sure, he might have to check on the bonds to tell who was who, but at least he had a way of identifying them.
His dad came in and sat in his armchair, with Peter settling on the floor between his legs. Stiles felt a surge of emotion when he looked at them, his heart swelling in his chest as a smile tugged at his face before he leaned heavier into Deucalion's side. The man said nothing about it, but their bond pulsed with warm acceptance, much sweeter than it had been earlier that morning.
Kali and Ennis stayed in the kitchen, but Stiles didn't mind. Instead, he basked in the easy atmosphere of his pack. There was something... softer than the night before, and his father being there made all the difference to Stiles. This was his, his pack; they were his to protect and care for.
He was going to take his oath seriously.
"So, what's next, kiddo?" his dad asked, shocking Stiles out of his own mind. He hadn't even realized that he'd finished eating, nor that Deucalion had deposited his plate on the side table for him.
He took a deep breath as he considered what he wanted to say. He wasn't sure how honest he should be, if he should let them all know that he had no idea what he was doing, or say something to try to save face.
"I'm not really sure?" Stiles admitted, shrugging his shoulders and looking around the room as he settled on honesty.
Ennis and Kali entered from the kitchen, Ennis sitting himself on the floor and Kali leaning against the wall like she had the night before. Stiles didn't want to make any assumptions, and he didn't want to push anyone into a decision they might be unhappy with. He still didn't know everyone well enough to know what they would want, after all. He knew that would have to change.
"Well, we shall begin the search for a more permanent residence, of course," Deucalion said with an easy drawl, though Stiles felt how the man's arm tensed against his back, since it had slipped around his waist at some point while Stiles was lost in his thoughts.
"Hmm, I think that could be agreeable. John? How would you feel about moving?" Peter asked, leaning back against Dad's legs. Stiles watched how his dad tensed at the question and he knew the mistake Peter had made before Dad even started talking. .
"I feel like that's not a conversation we're going to be having in a room full of people I don't' know, Peter." There wasn't any room for question in his voice and Peter just nodded his head slowly, before he lowered his eyes to the ground. Stiles could see how the man's cheeks were beginning to heat in embarrassment. Dad, after a moment, leaned forward to rest a hand on Peter's shoulder, who relaxed a little.
"I want to go after Gerard!" Stiles blurted out, though he was quick to slap a hand over his mouth and look around, wide-eyed. Not what he'd meant to say, at all, though both Peter and his dad were looking at him with thankful eyes.
"I—I just want to sleep," Stiles muttered, though he clenched his fists in his laps, looking down. Even if no one had said anything about it, Stiles knew that everyone in this room would have heard him waking up and would know what happened, even if Stiles had taken a moment to patch up the wall with a reversal spell. He took another deep breath, and said, "I don't want to wake up scared again. And I don't think that is going to be possible if he's still alive somewhere."
"It's okay kiddo, I understand," his dad told him. His words made Stiles feel light, reassured in a way he hadn't realized he'd been craving.
Stiles had always known that his morals were... grey at best. That meant that he and his dad, the Sheriff, didn't always see eye to eye. But this was something that he needed his Dad's support with, and not just because of what he'd have to do. As young as it made him feel to admit it, he just needed his dad.
"I'm up for some murdering," Cora said, which worked to diffuse any lingering weirdness in the warm. Ennis chuckled deeply as he flashed his eyes, and even Kali grinned.
"I-I... you guys don't have to come. I can do it on my own," Stiles said quietly, hands ducking back to his lap. .
"Dude, you're our Emissary now," Aiden told him seriously, like that answered anything at all. It just made Stiles more confused.
"You might not feel it the way we do, but a bond with an Emissary is some pretty strong stuff. We want to help you," Ethan added, leaning across the room to offer Stiles a fist bump.
Stiles gave him one, and he couldn't quite keep down his smile.
"If you're all sure?"
"Of course, darling," Deucalion said quietly even as he placed a warm hand on Stiles' thigh.
Stiles didn't miss how his father's eyes narrowed.
He was thankful for the warmth nonetheless.
"I feel like there is a conversation we need to be having," his dad began, blocking the hall light as he stood in the doorway of Stiles' bedroom.
Stiles tensed, already knowing where this would be going. "I definitely feel like this is a conversation we don't need to be having."
"Stiles," Dad said on a sigh, and Stiles felt bad. It wasn't that he planned on keeping anything a secret—he just didn't want to be having this conversation. How was he supposed to explain to his dad the jumbled up mess of feelings that was his mind when even he didn't know what was going on?
"Dad..."
"I'm serious, kiddo." He entered the room, planting both hands on his hips in his 'Sheriff' pose.
It wasn't nearly as intimidating to Stiles as it was to criminals
"Ugh, fine. Whatever, at least come inside so the whole damn house can't hear everything." Stiles knew his voice came out more of a whine, but he wasn't able to bring himself to care. Instead he threw himself back on the bed and folded his arms, pouting up at the ceiling.
"What—how would that make a difference?" His dad's voice was confused, and Still felt bad all over again.
He hadn't been keeping his father updated with the progression of his magic. Instead, he'd been excitedly going to Peter every time he learned how to do something cool and exciting. It wasn't that he was doing it on purpose, and he wasn't trying to hide anything. He just knew that his dad was busy!
"I can soundproof the room?" Stiles admitted sheepishly, raising his hands and letting his fingers spark for show. He closed his eyes and focused, pulled at his spark and willed it out from himself to cling to the walls. Then he pushed, forming a barrier to trap the sound in as he mumbled a simple spell he'd found in one of the books that Peter had gifted him.
"Huh," his dad muttered and took a heavy seat in Stiles' desk chair. The man let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping with it, and Stiles' concern grew. His dad was obviously upset over something.
Stiles sat straighter, already dreading the worse.
"How—how would you feel about moving?" his dad said with a flinch, as if even the thought made him uncomfortable.
That... was not what Stiles had been expecting at all. He had known his father and Peter had left and gone for a pretty long drive, and Stiles had assumed it had been to talk about the strange comment made after breakfast, but Stiles hadn't been expecting this when his dad came into the room.
Huh, this was way easier than talking about his... whatever Deucalion was.
Stiles took a moment to think before he answered.
"I think I would be okay with it?" he hedged, feeling more confident than he sounded in his own ears.
It was true. He would miss the house, sure, but ever since he got in touch with his spark, since his magic kindled bright and brilliant inside his chest, he'd felt close to his mom in a way he hadn't since her death. His magic had to come from somewhere. Even if he didn't totally know everything about being a spark, he knew that magic didn't just happen. Stiles was now connected to his mom in a way he hadn't been before, and he didn't need anything more than that.
But he knew his father didn't have the same connection to her that Stiles did. While his mom lived on in the warm glow of Stiles' chest, for his dad, Claudia Stilinski only lived on in his memories.
So, quietly, he asked, "Would you be okay with moving?"
"I don't know," his dad told him, though his head hung low and his shoulders moved forward. Stiles made a sympathetic noise as he thought of what to say.
"I think Mom would be happy that you found someone else. I can see how happy Peter makes you, Dad," Stiles said quietly, getting up off the bed so he could lay a hand on his dad's shoulder, squeezing tightly. Stiles wasn't expecting his dad to cover his hand with his own, nor was he expecting the tight squeeze he got in return, but he let the moment happen and didn't pull away.
"The conversation with Peter went well?" Stiles asked after a long moment, letting his dad pull himself together as he walked back to the bed, dropping down with a bounce.
"God, that man is hard to say no to," his dad breathed out, letting the tension bleed from his shoulders. Stiles couldn't help but smile just a little—from what he could remember, Dad hadn't ever been very good at saying no to Mom, either.
"I mean, I think you're just weak-willed," Stiles teased, smiling at his father. He was happy the man was moving on, especially after so many years.
This was the first time his father had ever even dated anyone, and Stiles was more than thrilled that it was Peter. The man was becoming a large part of Stiles' life, comforting and encouraging and supportive every time he helped Stiles with magic and homework. He answered all the supernatural questions that Stiles had, and if there was ever something that he didn't know, he searched out the answer.
Not only that, but Peter had been spending so much time with them, coming for dinner every night his father was home, and even some when he wasn't, helping Stiles with his magic, or more often, his history homework. He cared for Peter, and not just because the wolf had been—and still was, in Stiles' eyes—his Beta. He would have no problems with seeing Peter as a step-parent, and was kinda hoping for it. He saw how happy the two men were together, and they both deserved it.
"Weak-willed or not, kiddo, we may be moving," his dad said, interrupting his train of thought.
"I mean, knowing Deucalion it's probably going to be something outrageously big," Stiles mentioned, wondering what they were going to go with.
Silence stretched on for a moment that made Stiles uncomfortable and tense, before his dad raised an eyebrow.
"Hm, and what's this about 'knowing Deucalion'? Because that sure comes as a surprise to me," his dad asked with a raised brow.
Stiles bit down on his lip for a long moment, trying to think about what exactly he wanted to say. He knew he was going to be honest, of course he was going to be honest with his dad, but he wasn't sure what that even meant.
"Uh, well this was a conversation I was going to have with both you and Peter?" he admitted, absolutely not stalling.
Dad raised an eyebrow, but he looked pleased. "Why the both of us?"
"Well, Peter just kind of followed me? I wanted to explain to him why." Why he bonded with a murderous Alpha, why he felt so comfortable in the man's space, why he thought Deucalion was safe, when he really, really shouldn't.
"Okay, if you want we can wait and speak to Peter, but don't think you're going to get out of us talking about why there was a grown man sleeping in your bed last night."
Stiles nodded, though he did dramatically groan as he threw himself back onto his bed.
C'mon, he had to keep up appearances!
Who Said I Was Playing?
"You wanted to talk with me?" Peter asked as he entered the room, holding up his phone to show off the text he'd received from Dad.
Stiles smiled a little when the man shut the door behind him, scooting back on his bed so he was sitting against the headboard. He watched Peter place a kiss on the top of his dad's head, running a few fingers along the back of the other man's neck. HIs dad didn't even blink at the casual scenting.
He knew their relationship had grown, developing into something more serious, but Stiles felt as though he'd been so focused on himself—his magic and his training and school—that he hadn't noticed how close they had gotten. He felt bad, especially when both men were so active in his own life, Peter a willing sidekick in his magic lessons.
It had only been three weeks since that first time Peter stopped by with coffee and doughnuts. But now, as Stiles watched them together, he was almost shocked at the easy intimacy they shared. It made Stiles wonder just how much time they had spent together when Stiles was at school or studying or practicing.
But Stiles definitely wasn't complaining. No, he was happy, overjoyed that two people he cared for so much had found one another. He wasn't ignorant of the decreased hours his father was working, and he definitely noticed how much time he now spent more time at home. It—well, it stung a little, that it took Peter walking into their lives for him to take some time off, but he tried to focus on his happiness over anything else.
It wasn't as though Stiles needed his father, not anymore, but he would have never said no to seeing him more often. Still, he liked his dad being home and he liked the nights the three had spent together even more so. They were making a little family, the three of them, and it... Stiles really, really liked it.
Stiles could feel his father was watching him, waiting for Stiles to begin talking. Peter perched himself on the edge of Stiles' bed, angling himself to so he could easily see both Stilinskis. He offered Stiles a small smile, their bond surging with reassurance. It helped settle him, even if only a little, and he took a deep breath before he started.
"Alright, what do you want to know?" Stiles asked, forcing a smile onto his face when all he wanted to do was grimace.
"Are you dating that Deucalion man?" his dad demanded. Well, he certainly wasn't wasting any time getting to the point. Peter was just smirking at him. Bastard.
"Uh, I don't know?" he tried, wincing slightly at the disbelieving look on his dad's face.
But that was the truth. Stiles didn't know. He had no idea what he and Deucalion were to each other. Hell, it had only been a day, how the hell was he supposed to know? Not enough time had passed for Stiles to have any idea what was going on between them, which didn't make this conversation any easier.
Stiles knew that the bond was amplifying things, even if it wasn't amployifying everything or creating anything new. After all, he had read up about Alpha and Emissary bonds back when he was still trying to earn a place in his old back.
But it wasn't that simple. Alpha and Emissary bonds were tricky enough to begin with, and Stiles really didn't know how to start explaining what was going on between them. Aside from being near-permanently bonding, there wasn't all that much Stiles could find out about what they were supposed to feel like. Presumably they worked like any other bond would, connecting two pack members together on a magical level. It shouldn't have been more than that.
At least Stiles hadn't thought so.
But their bond was strong. The strongest he had, overpowering the one he shared with Peter even after a day. And that was what worried him so much. How he could possibly become so attached to someone so quickly? Stiles wasn't sure what was powering the bond—whether it was their shared power that made it so strong, or if they were just a good fit, compatible with one another.
Stiles was hesitant to say it made him uneasy, because a part of him enjoyed it. Enjoyed how easy it was to read Deucalion, how comfortable they felt together. He knew Deucalion wouldn't hurt him, as much as knew he would never hurt Deucalion. Their bond wouldn't allow it, and that was something he could tell with certainty.
But when it came to the thought of more, of what he and Deucalion were to each other—that's where Stiles got lost. Because he honestly didn't know. He knew he was attracted to the man physically— very attracted—but he wasn't sure if it was anything more than that or could be anything more than that, mostly 'cause... well again, it had been a stinking day.
"I-I... I don't know," Stiles finally said, tucking his knees to his chest as both his dad and Peter continued to stare at him.
He felt exposed under their gazes, like they were looking for more than he had to give them.
"Don't know, hmm?" Peter questioned, stupid smirk still in place.
"I haven't even talked to him about it!" Stiles exclaimed, throwing out his arms in exasperation.
"I can remember Deucalion," Peter mentioned with a tilt of his head. "He was always—well, he was always kind. Level-headed. I wasn't all that much younger than Talia and I can remember them meeting often. He always seemed... peaceful. Idealistic."
"He was," Stiles added, and he sighed when they both looked at him curiously, "I—okay. Peter, remember when he greeted me in the preserve? Well... I may have, possibly, looked into his mind?"
"Looked into his mind?" his dad asked, trading a wide-eyed look with Peter.
"I uh, like, saw his memories? I don't really know how I did it, but I went into his mind and saw... A lot, actually. Enough in the moment to make a decision, but some more things since then, too."
"I did not know you could do that," Peter said, and although he kept his voice even, their bond was humming with nerves. All Stiles could feel was Peter's anxiety. It made Stiles nervous.
"I—I didn't know either? Are you upset?" Stiles asked. His voice came out far quieter than he meant.
"No, cub, not at all." Peter moved next to him and Stiles happily tucked himself against the wolf's side, sighing a little when Peter rubbed his chin into his temple. "Is that why you chose to follow him?"
"Uh, mostly, yeah? I saw who he used to be before—before," Stiles took a breath, forcing down the bile that rose in his throat as he remembered what happened to Deucalion at Gerard's hand. "Anyway, he used to be a really good man."
"I'm not mad either, in case you were wondering," his dad grumbled, but it was affectionate. "I am a little surprised that you seem to be able to... what, read minds?"
"I don't know? I don't think so anyway. That was the only time it's happened and I didn't even mean to do it!"
"Wait, you 'looked' into Deucalion's mind without meaning to?" Peter asked and Stiles nodded against his shoulder, sinking down even further to hide himself away.
There was a moment of silence as Peter and his dad took that in, apparently letting the information settle. Stiles himself had been surprised, so he could understand how they were feeling now. It had been a lot of magic to use without even meaning to do it, and he did wonder what his intent had been behind his actions. He had no idea he was powerful enough to do something like that, and it just made him wonder what else he would be able to do.
"Stiles, dating him or not, he's your Alpha, right? And from what Peter has told me about bonds, he's going to be in your life for a very, very long time, yes?" Stiles nodded, leaning heavier into Peter as his dad continued to stare at him.
"Look, I know he might not be a good guy, but he was, and—"
"I don't care about who he was," Dad said firmly, giving him a heavy look. "Who he used to be wasn't my son's Alpha, and that's what matters. But now that he is, he better not think he can carry on as he has been," his dad said, and even though his voice was strict, he came over to the bed, joining their cuddle session on Stiles' other side.
"Yeah—yeah, that's something I definitely agree with. I'll talk to him about it," Stiles mumbled, letting himself get lost in the moment. He never thought he would have two parents again, never even let himself imagine his dad finding someone. For that someone to be Peter, someone Stiles already cared for, seemed too good to be true, but Stiles wasn't going to protest.
No, he was just going to let the two men hold him, and focus on how safe and loved he felt between them.
When Stiles made it back up to his room, he wasn't at all surprised to find Deucalion already sitting on his bed. He was a little surprised at the red glow of his eyes, casting light across the pages of Stiles' ever-growing Grimoire. It reminded Stiles that he needed to update it, thankful for the spell that gave it never-ending pages.
It had been an amazing gift from Peter, and one he would always treasure as he continued to grow into his magic.
Deucalion had been absent for all of the afternoon, not even coming down for dinner. After the talk he had with his dads (which was amazing to think, even if he'd only think it privately for now), Stiles had taken a short nap, pressed between Peter and his dad. He hadn't slept for long, and then he'd spent a few hours before dinner bonding with Cora and Peter, excitedly listening to tales of South America and her early days with the Alpha Pack.
The only thing missing had been Deucalion, their Alpha absent from the meal and the light conversation afterwards. None of the others mentioned it, and Stiles wasn't sure if they were able to feel the sharp twist of Deucalion's doubt like he was. Could they feel Deucalion as well as he could?
The silence hadn't made Stiles any less worried. His nervousness twined with Deucalion's doubt and made him feel sick. For hours it had sat sharply in his chest, and it got strong enough that he couldn't ignore it. Around seven, he finally made his way upstairs, moving slowly with a plate of food in his hands.
He closed his bedroom door behind him, not saying anything as he set the plate of food down on his end table, standing still a moment as he waited for Deucalion to acknowledge him. Instead, the man kept reading. The only indication he knew Stiles was in the room was the tense set his shoulders had taken when Stiles first walked into the doorway. Stiles sighed quietly and took a moment to parse through what he was getting from their bond.
If Deucalion wasn't going to offer anything, Stiles would just have to figure out what was wrong himself.
The talk with his fathers had left him feeling calm, the erratic beat of his emotions smoothed into something steadier. It felt good to have worked through more of his thoughts, and even better when his dad hadn't shamed him for his uncertainty. He knew he was attracted to Deucalion, at least physically, though he also knew that he could very well be attracted to the man he saw in Deucalion's memories.
Stiles wasn't sure if there was any of that man left.
"If you're here to inform me you are breaking our bond, I would like to remind you the ritual can be quite painful," Deucalion drawled, face impassive as he closed the notebook. His eyes dimmed behind his glasses and he neatly folded his hands atop his lap.
He looked perfectly calm and poised. If Stiles couldn't feel the raging emotions along their bond he wasn't sure he would have been able to tell if Deucalion was hiding something. In fact, Deucalion was projecting so strongly with such harsh emotions that it took Stiles aback, and he had to stop himself from stumbling a step. He had to take a moment to breathe through the Alpha's panic, separating it from his own feelings even as Deucalion sat there, face pleasantly neutral.
It was unsettling for Stiles to watch. Even more unsettling was the statement, and Stiles' eyes widened when he finally processed what the man had said. He had no idea where this was coming from and he couldn't understand why Deucalion would say anything about breaking their bond. Unless—unless Deucalion was the one who wanted to break it? But no, not with how panic and anxiety was hurtling between them and making Stiles feel sick.
"What?" Stiles finally asked, trying to figure out what the hell Deucalion was talking about.
"I don't believe I misspoke," Deucalion told him, though he still didn't look up. Of course, Stiles recognized that Deucalion wouldn't be looking at him either way, but he'd noticed that Deucalion always made an effort to at least face him—or anyone speaking—during a conversation.
"I... alright, well I'm not breaking our bond. Jesus, how did, why did—why would you even think that?" Stiles asked, doing his best not to groan or stomp his foot.
He was just confused, and he didn't know what he could have done for Deucalion to think he was going to leave him unless that was what Deucalion wanted, which wasn't something that Stiles wanted to think about.
"I may be blind, but I'm not ignorant. I am aware of the choices I've made and how those decisions have affected others. I may be callous and cruel, but I am not stupid!" Deucalion's voice raised while he spoke, agitation and loss thrumming between them. Stiles rounded the bed slowly, stopping a step away from Deucalion.
He spared half a mind to murmur a silencing spell under his breath, the same once he'd used earlier to soundproof the room while speaking with his dads. He didn't think Deucalion would want the whole pack to hear this, whatever it was going to be.
"Deuc." The name felt weird on Stiles' tongue but it sounded comfortable, softer with Stiles' quiet voice. "I'm not breaking the bond."
Deucalion's head snapped toward him, and the corner of his upper lip began to peel back in a snarl. He didn't say anything for a long moment that stretched on and on, long enough for Stiles to start fidgeting. He felt exposed with how Deucalion was watching him, and blind or not, he felt naked under the Alpha's attention.
"I'm in this," Stiles said, voice low under the tension of the room.
"I'm not sure you know how much you're promising."
And that—that felt too much like being underestimated. It was a familiar burn, one that tugged in his chest, and Stiles almost let himself go upset. But he couldn't, not when he could feel Deucalion's anger, his fear and his uncertainty. He couldn't just give up like he might want, not when he could feel the budding hope flickering between them.
Deucalion turned his head again, refusing to look towards him once again. But even if Stiles wasn't getting the feedback from their bond, he'd be able to tell Deucalion was tense and upset. The man's body was drawn in tightly, but more than that, Stiles could see the glint of fang pressing against Deucalion's bottom lip and noted the supernatural tip to his ear. His claws were out where his hands were folded together, black-tipped and dangerous.
Yeah, no. Deucalion was half shifted—he definitely wasn't calm. Stiles bit down on his lip, tilting his head to the side.
Stiles sighed, deep and long-suffering and frustrated. He struggled to find his words, his mind going too fast to properly put himself in order. He knew what he needed to say but he didn't know how to say. He wanted everything Deucalion seemed to be afraid Stiles didn't or couldn't understand. And maybe it was selfish of him, but Stiles wanted something permanent, something he could trust and rely on. He was far too familiar with being abandoned for it to happen again.
He knew his mother had never meant to leave him and he tried not to fault her for her sickness, but in the end, that's what it felt like. His mother left him, her mind twisting into something dark and ugly until she was a monster who hated him. Then so did his father, busying himself with work so he wouldn't have to be home, and drinking to forget when he was. Stiles had no idea how many times he'd had to pack his own lunch or wash his own laundry or throw out empty whiskey bottles.
His father had come back, but it had been too late, in a way.
The abandonment had already set in.
Then, more recently, there was Scott, who Stiles had thought would be by his side forever. Scott, who threw him away carelessly, who let the pack cast him aside like they hadn't spent a decade being inseparable.
No, Stiles wanted something permanent. He didn't want to be abandoned again.
With a nod of his head, Stiles lifted his leg and swung it over the bed so he could place his knee next to Deucalion's thigh. He placed a hand on the man's shoulder to support himself as he straddled Deuc's lap. Stiles settled back, sitting on the man's thighs as he watched Deucalion's eyes go wide behind his darkly-tinted glasses, his fingers twitching and his forearms tensing as he kept himself from reaching out.
"Yeah, yeah asshole, don't get too excited," Stiles grumbled, wiggling and twisting until he was sitting comfortably on Deucalion's thighs. He took Deucalion's clawed hands in his own and placed them palm down on his legs, watching as the claws immediately retracted. Stiles grinned.
Good. That was a good sign.
"Darling, this is a dangerous game you're playing," Deucalion said with a growl. His voice sounded hoarse.
"Who said I was playing?" Stiles asked, settling his hands over Deucalion's as he sunk into the surprisingly comfortable seat.
"My wolf has already decided it wants you, Stiles, and I am not one to deny my instincts," Deucalion told him as his hands started kneading Stiles' thighs.
"I'm not asking you to," Stiles whispered between them, swaying forward.
It felt like he was being pulled in, like he couldn't, wouldn't hold himself back
"I would like to trust you, darling, but I have a hard time thinking you understand how strong this bond is going to be," Deucalion explained. His voice had softened, but he was still tense.
"I—it might be selfish, but that's why I want this. I don't… I can't be adondoned again," Stiles said quietly, looking down at his lap. "I understand that you might not trust me right away, but I hope—"
"You understand nothing," Deucalion hissed, fingers tightening around Stiles' thighs painfully as his eyes flashed Alpha-red behind his glasses. Stiles could see where the man's fangs had dropped, and his heart stuttered inside his chest.
"You have no idea how it feels to be turned on, to have one of your own—" Deucalion's voice cracked, and he let out a whine that made Stiles' chest ache for him. Stiles moved slowly, raising his arms and scooting forward until he could tuck Deucalion's head into his neck and hug the man close.
Deucalion was breathing deep lungfuls of Stiles' scent, and Stiles could feel wetness against his skin. Stiles' eyes were wet, too, with what he was feeling over their bond. God, of course Deucalion was guarded and wary of Stiles' acceptance. Stiles had seen the night he'd looked into Deucalion's memory, but to feel it, even just a phantom of the old pain, had Stiles' heart breaking.
It made sense that Deucalion wouldn't trust his eagerness, not when the last time he'd trusted someone like that, his beta tried to rip his throat out.
"It's okay. It's okay, baby," Stiles whispered, hugging Deucalion close.
"He tore me open. He tore me open and left me inside-out. I was broken. How can you be an Alpha without a pack?" Deucalion asked, voice quiet in a way Stiles hadn't heard him before. The Alpha sounded unsure, hurt in a way Stiles could hardly make sense of when it was coming from someone so unbelievably powerful. "I was powerless, Stiles. I was nothing. I had been near-feral lying on that operating table, and he... I hadn't— I didn't mean to kill him!" Deucalion whispered, the last words barely a breath against the skin of Stiles' neck.
"You have a pack now," Stiles told him surely, trying to do anything to reassure his Alpha. "I'm not going to leave. I promise."
Stiles took a deep breath as he continued to hold the shaking man. He'd never been very good at handling people who were crying, and that person being his Alpha didn't make it any easier. Add to that the way Stiles wanted to cry from the feedback along their bond, and he was left speechless, not knowing what to say.
He knew... he knew why he wanted this. Why he was happy about the bond. But he wasn't sure that was something that he wanted to share, since it wasn't something he'd ever told anyone else.
But he knew things about Deucalion that no one else knew, and while he hadn't come across the information willingly, maybe he could make up for it by sharing some of his own dark secrets.
"My mom..." Stiles took a deep breath, trying to settle his heart. It was already beating faster as his chest restricted painfully. "My mom, she lost herself. Dementia. The kind she had killed slowly, and i-it eats away at the brain, distorts the person it affects. She turned into something ugly . She wasn't my mom anymore."
That was the most honest Stiles had ever been while talking about his mother, but he didn't want to stop. "She thought I was evil. S-she thought I was the Devil's child, and she..." Stiles lifted his shirt just enough to expose his right hip where there was still a faint, white scar. There was the smallest displacement to the skin, and he took Deucalion's hand and ran the man's finger over it.
"That was when my dad put her in the hospital. She had pushed me into a-a cabinet, and a picture frame fell. S-She got mad, angry, maybe. T-tried to carve the devil out of my skin."
That had been the worst of it, the worst the physical abuse ever got. But that certainly wasn't all of it. All of it hurt, every hurled word or hand-shaped bruise. Every time his mother's nails dug into his skin or just tugged at his hair. It all hurt, every time she called him evil. Every time she didn't recognize him. All of it hurt.
Deucalion was cradling him close now, the hands previously on his thighs rubbing small, warm circles into his back as he breathed slowly. His eyes were dry, but that didn't change the way his heart ached.
"You are so much stronger than I could have imagined, Stiles. I am honoured to call you my Emissary."
"I am honoured to call you my Alpha," Stiles murmured, breathing in deep and nosing at the hair behind Deucalion's ear.
"I-I might need time," Deucalion admitted into Stiles' skin, and Stiles was pleased to note that the bond was calming.
"Yeah, no! Y-Yeah, I mean, that's fine. I think we both need time," Stiles assured him, still running his fingers through the short hair along the back of Deucalion's neck. Deucalion breathed deeply, sucking in lungfuls of Stiles' scent, and Stiles settled his own arms around Deucalion's shoulders, playing with the hair at the nape of the man's neck.
"I don't know why I'm letting you this close," Deucalion admitted, his voice quiet and hesitant, like he was thinking through the words as he said them.
And that was the whole issue, wasn't it? Stiles agreed. He hadn't let someone in this easily since his mother passed away and took with her his innocence. He had always been guarded, because it made it harder to get hurt. If he didn't let anyone in, if he didn't let anyone see his soft underside... they couldn't do anything to him.
But now he had. He'd let the pack in and they had taken that careful safety and threw it away, tearing up his trust like it meant nothing. Stiles knew how much it hurt to be cast aside, to be thrown away like he meant nothing. He'd known it before his pack did it to him, and it hurt all the more because of it.
They had taken his trust and twisted it into something ugly.
He wasn't sure if he could handle that happening again.
But this, what he had just told Deucalion? That wasn't something he'd ever told anyone. No one knew, maybe not even his dad, how bad it had gotten in the end. Sure, his dad knew about the glass, but he didn't know all of it, not when Stiles had done his best to protect him. He couldn't even imagine telling someone else. It would make ignoring all the dark memories harder.
Keeping it to himself made it easy to ignore it, made it easy to forget the scars.
"I think it's the bond, otherwise I wouldn't be doing it either," Stiles said, though he rubbed his chin along Deucalion's temple much the same way Peter had done for him countless times.
"Well, at least I'm not the only crazy one," Deucalion joked, some of the hoarseness dropping away from his voice. Stiles let Deucalion calm down, giving him a moment to breathe and doing the same himself. He felt raw and exposed, and he didn't like it.
He knew their conversation wasn't over, but he felt alright with where they left things.
After a few minutes of quiet scenting, Deucalion's hands trailed down his back to settle on his ass.
"Hey! Bad wolf! Hands off the goods, mister!" Stiles laughed loudly as he let Deucalion lighten the mood. He swatted at the Alpha's hands as they squeezed his ass, pulling them up until he was once again being hugged around his waist. "None of that!"
"I seem to recall something being said about not denying my instincts?" Deucalion asked lightly, leaning back enough for Stiles to see his teasing smirk.
"Deuc, it—it wouldn't even be legal!" Stiles tried, twisting his fingers in his lap. God, denial had been easier to deal with.
The look Deucalion levelled at him made it pretty clear what he thought of Stiles' feeble excuse.
"Murder, assault, kidnapping, breaking and entering, extensive property damage, vandalism." Deucalion counted off on his hand until he held up five claw-tipped fingers in the space between them. "In case it had escaped your notice, darling, I don't particularly abide by the law."
"You do realize that's going to be, like, a huge issue with my father, right?" Stiles asked, but he did notice when a few of Deucalion's fingers slipped under his shirt. Deucalion's hands were warm against Stiles' skin, and a shiver raced down his spine.
"Look," Stiles began, pushing Deucalion's short hair back, "I know a lot of this is the bond, but it isn't making anything up, right?. Yeah, It's making things stronger, amplifying what we may be feeling, but it isn't creating anything."
"And why is it you're telling me this like I don't already know?" Deucalion asked, though he tightened his grip.
Stiles poked Deucalion on the nose, smiling at the scrunched-up face the man made. "Because I could feel how upset you were. I don't want you thinking that I don't want this, that I don't want to be your Emissary and everything else that may come along with that."
Deucalion was quiet for a moment. Stiles could tell that he was struggling to accept Stiles' words, so he didn't say anything. After a few seconds, Deucalion took a deep breath and the hand not pressed to Stiles' skin to take off his glasses.
Stiles' breath caught in his throat, as mesmerized by Deucalion's milky irises as he was the first time he saw them. He knew just how special it was to be allowed to see the man's eyes.
"Can I... try something, darling?" Deucalion asked him hesitantly, a hand landing back on his thigh and squeezing the fight tightly.
Stiles raised an eyebrow, and covered Deucalion's hand with his own. "What is it?"
"I'd like to see you," Deucalion whispered, his head tilted up and his eyes flashing bright red before fading away again.
"See me?" Stiles asked, his forehead scrunching up. Had Deucalion not just done that?
But Deucalion didn't reply. Instead, he held up a hand until his palm was level with Stiles' face. It was shaking, badly, so Stiles gently reached up and wrapped his fingers around his wrist to keep him steady. Deucalion sucked in a sharp breath, and Stiles wasn't sure if it was his racing heart or Deucalion's that was pounding in his ears.
Then Deucalion pressed forward, and Stiles' breath slammed out of his chest.
Deucalion's fingers were warm against his cheek. Warmer still was his palm, as he laid his hand flat against Stiles' face. He sucked in a deep breath as Deucalion's other hand moved to mirror his first, until he was holding Stiles' face in his hands. Stiles raised his other hand to Deucalion's other wrist, and he held on as Deucalion's fingers drifted across his face.
His eyes fluttered closed as Deucalion's heavy thumbs pressed against the top of his brow bone. They slowly slid down his brow, before gently brushing against his eyes in a way that Stiles his breath all over again.
One of Deucalion's thumbs slid down his nose. The other moved across the shape of his lips. Then, Deucalion's other four fingers landed on his forehead, and slowly slid down the sides of his face before drawing in.
Stiles sat stock-still, barely able to breathe as Deucalion explored. He'd never done anything like this, never even imagined anything like this, and Stiles couldn't help the way his heart felt like it was going to race out of his chest. His chest was shining with his spark, his magic all but thrumming with power under his skin as Deucalion continued to brush his fingers, feather-light and barely there, over Stiles' face.
"You are beautiful," Deucalion whispered, and his breath ghosted across Stiles' chin.
Their bond was building between them, cementing into something he wasn't sure he knew what to do with. Despite the conversation they'd just had, this felt like something more. Something Stiles wasn't sure he wanted to handle.
"Deuc," he whispered back, and then, with something he didn't like crawling up his belly, he pulled back until he was sitting up straight. "Deuc..."
He didn't know how to explain the twisting nerves in his chest. All he knew was that this was too much even if it was something Stiles wanted more than anything in the world, more than he could put words to.
Deucalion didn't get upset. His eyes fell closed and he took several long, deep breaths as his hands returned to Stiles' thighs to knead at the skin. Slowly, so slowly. Deucalion seemed to regain control over himself, until he was breathing normally and he was able to look up at Stiles. His eyes were heavy, but Stiles figured his gaze would be too.
"Alright," Deucalion muttered, taking one last deep breath before a teasing smile fell across his face. He pulled his arms back before he lightly slapped Stiles' thigh. "Now, if you don't mind I would like to eat my dinner."
Stiles laughed even as he rolled over, the noise heavy with relief. He planted his head on Deucalion's lap instead, knowing that he needed to stick close with what just happened. While Stiles wasn't ready for a kiss, he definitely wasn't ready to pull back and leave. Something was growing bigger and bigger between them and Stiles didn't know what it was, not for sure, but he knew it sat warm and fulfilling in the centre of his chest.
For now, he'd cuddle Deucalion as he ate. He'd reread his own notes, and try to draw his mind away from what Deucalion's lips might feel against his own.
For now, this would be enough.
Can I Have a Proper Morning Kiss, Darling?
When Stiles woke the next morning, Deucalion wasn't curled against his back. Rather, Stiles had an arm thrown around the Alpha's waist and his nose was pressed into the warm skin of Deuc's nape, the short hairs tickling against Stiles' nose. Stiles shuffled closer, enjoying the lazy contentedness he felt, wrapped around the older man.
He didn't feel trapped like this, and he was glad to have woken in a way that allowed him to cuddle with Deuc. Stiles wanted to be as close as possible, especially half asleep and craving touch. Deucalion wasn't much more awake than he was, and when Stiles focused, he could feel him slowly waking up through their bond.
Deucalion lifted his arm and Stiles was about to pull his own away, afraid he had pushed too far, before Deuc laced their fingers together and laid their palms over his own belly. Stiles shuffled closer, confident now in his welcome, and pulled Deuc a little tighter to him. Deucalion made a low, rumbling noise that sounded pleased, and Stiles smiled into the man's skin, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.
He did his best to ignore his own lack of arousal. Stiles was aware that he should feel something —pressed up against an attractive man, one he had fucking feelings for—but his dick was limp in his boxers. He didn't want to ruin the morning, so he tried to push down his disappointment, focusing instead on how nice it felt to be wrapped around his Alpha.
Stiles let himself drift, toeing the line of consciousness. He wasn't quite ready to get up, glady taking advantage of his free time. Taking the week off school felt a little like avoiding his problems, but he couldn't bring himself to care too much. He didn't want to see the pack yet. Their rejection didn't hurt nearly as much as it had at first, not when Stiles' chest was bright with his new pack bonds… But he still didn't want to see them.
"Waking up like this is more fun," Stiles said, voice whisper-soft in the silence of the room. He was sure the others were already up, but he couldn't bring himself to move yet.
Deucalion turned in Stiles' hold, face still soft with sleep, eyes lazy and half-lidded. What Stiles could see of Deuc's irises were a creamy white, the rest of his eyes a painful looking, bloody red. The scars around them were deep and jagged, pale against the tanned skin of his face. They looked like they hurt, and Stiles wondered again if they brought the Alpha any pain.
"You're staring," Deucalion said, his brow pulling down into a frown. Stiles wasn't sure how he knew, but he looked away instinctively.
"You have pretty eyes," Stiles told him, and he could feel his cheeks heating with a blush even before Deuc snorted. "You do. They look like the moon."
He brought a hand up between them and brushed his finger gently along the skin under Deucalion's eyes, ran his thumb along one of the deepest scars. Deucalion was holding his breath, his body tight with tension. Stiles leaned forward as far as he could and pressed a soft kiss to Deucalion's forehead.
When Stiles leaned back Deucalion's eyes were closed, though the furrowed skin between his brows had smoothed out. He was wearing a soft smile now, and Stiles could feel his happiness over the bond. Deucalion kept his eyes closed as they breathed together, though they fluttered open just a touch before he leant forward.
"Thank you," Stiles whispered, a little in awe at the trust Deucalion had in him.
"Can I have a proper morning kiss, darling?" Deuc asked, and Stiles could feel the words against his own lips with the way Deuc's breath was ghosting over the skin.
Stiles nodded, but Deucalion didn't move forward. He waited for Stiles to make the first move. Once Stiles pressed their lips together, Deucalion settled his arm over Stiles' waist and pulled him in, though he didn't turn the kiss into anything more than the dry press of closed mouths Stiles had initiated.
Deucalion was the one to pull back, pressing another peck to Stiles' lips before he did so. Stiles knew his face would be blotchy red and warm, but he couldn't bring himself to care. The smile he wore felt good, making his cheeks hurt with its force. Deucalion's smile was smaller, but just as genuine, and their bond was singing with their mixed joy.
"Thank you," Deuc repeated, and Stiles made a noise of agreement before leaning in for another chaste kiss.
Stiles had no idea how he had ended up here. 'Here' was the backseat of Ennis' humongous (and gorgeous, so freaking gorgeous) Jeep, Ethan behind the wheel and Cora beside him. He had no idea where they were even going, other than 'shopping for new clothes.' He was a little worried, especially as they drove out of town, passing by the 'Welcome to Beacon Hills' sign without a word.
As soon as he walked downstairs that morning, the two teens had ambushed him in the kitchen. He had still been riding the high of his first kiss—because holy fuck, he just had his first kiss and it was with a hot older man who had feelings for him—and had been caught off-guard when they cornered him. It had taken him a moment to snap into the present, and he almost regretted it when he did.
"If you're going to to be seen with us, you're going to need to dress better," Cora had said, and although Stiles figured he should be offended, there was no malice in her words.
"What she means is that you're very attractive, and your loose, shapeless clothes do nothing but hide that," Ethan said, voice far softer than Cora's had been.
And then, before Stiles had been able to respond, they had dragged him away. Stiles instantly mourned the lazy morning he had been planning in bed with Deuc—and he especially mourned all the kisses he was going to miss! They had shuffled him into the backseat of Ennis' jeep without so much as a word from Stiles.
He hadn't thought he looked bad, either. He was just wearing jeans—clean ones!—and yes, the flannel he was wearing had been picked up from his floor, but the graphic t-shirt under that was clean, too. Yeah, his jeans were baggy, but Stiles had never thought much of it. Honestly, he didn't care too much as long as they fit.
But he wasn't going to argue with them. They were both far more attractive than he was, and if they thought they would be able to make him look better, he wasn't going to discourage their efforts. Especially now that he had boyfriend… kind of. Besides, he knew it was important for them to get closer as a pack, especially being their Emissary.
"So, how did you end up with the Alpha pack? I know you said that they took you in, but why ?" Stiles asked, leaning a little to the side so he could see half of Cora's face. He noticed how her lips pulled down into a frown.
"I travelled after the fire. Well, 'travelled' might not be the right word. I wandered. I thought everyone had died. I—I couldn't feel any pack bonds." Cora took a deep, shaking breath and Stiles reached forward to grab her shoulder, squeezing as he tried to push reassurance down their bond.
"I was ten when the fire happened," Cora said, her voice stronger than Stiles had been expecting. "It wasn't that hard, after. Surviving. I just… lived like a wolf. I didn't need food, since I could hunt, and I didn't really need shelter.
"For a while I was on my own. I don't… I know how long I was gone for. But it doesn't feel real. Time didn't really feel real, then. When Deucalion found me, I was near feral. I didn't remember what it meant to be human anymore, but he—he helped."
"So he just, what, taught you how to be human again?" Stiles asked, trying not to frown.
Cora nodded, her smile turning into something softer. "He became my Alpha. I hadn't meant to submit, but I'd been so far gone. All I wanted was to be safe again, and Alpha had always meant safety. And Ennis had been great, too. He—well, he didn't understand, but he was the most patient. Gave me as much time as I needed to get better."
"I see," Stiles said, for an honest lack of anything else to say. "Y-you're okay now, right?"
"I did a lot of my grieving before Deucalion found me. There wasn't much to do but think, and I did a lot of that. It's amazing to be around Peter again, he's always been my favourite."
"He is pretty great," Stiles said, a small smile on his face.
He considered asking about Derek, how she felt with the distance that was still between them—maybe even asking how she felt about Laura and Derek leaving Peter behind—but now wasn't the time. That felt too much like an invasion of her privacy, so Stiles settled on being thankful for what he was told.
Stiles had never been to a mall so large before. Beacon Hills only had two stories, but this one had three, and was far longer, too. The parking lot held more cars that Stiles could imagine seeing in one place—and Beacon Hills wasn't even that small of a town!
He had no idea where they were going, or what exactly they were looking for, but Stiles let himself be dragged around. They were clearly after something specific. He didn't really care—shopping wasn't his thing, and he wasn't able to pretend it was. He knew nothing about clothes, which was, apparently, obvious.
He followed the betas through the mall, half-listening to their conversation as he went. It was nice to get out of the house, to do something. Stiles knew he had been spending most of his time on his own, rarely leaving his house for anything but school. The only people he had spent any time with for weeks were his dad, and more recently Peter. It was nice to get out with people who wanted to be out with him.
Quietly, he followed them into the first store. He didn't have much to add to their conversation—most of his shirts had funny slogans on them, or pictures of his favourite superheroes, and Stiles didn't think this store would have either—so he kept quiet. It seemed a little too nice, actually, and he tried to push down the panic that began to swell when he checked a few of the price tags. There was no way he and his dad could afford all this.
"Deucalion is paying," Cora said, pulling a credit card out of her back pocket with a big smile.
"And," Ethan said, throwing an arm around Stiles' shoulder and tucking him into his side. "the card doesn't have a limit."
Stiles blushed, but he smiled too. He wasn't sure how Cora had known, but he was thankful she'd been able to tell.
"Here! Here, right here," Cora called from a few racks away, and Ethan dragged him over.
The rack held brightly coloured dress shirts, and Stiles' mouth dropped open a little. He had no idea what Cora and Ethan were planning, but there was no way he would be leaving his house in shirts that looked like that.
"Cora, uhm. I'm not—" Stiles tried, tripping over his words as he tried to come up with a polite way to say that he hated every one of the shirts hanging in front of him.
"Relax," Cora said with a laugh, and some of the nervous tension is Stiles' belly eased. "We aren't going to do that to you."
"We just want you to wear clothes that actually fit," Ethan added, squeezing the arm still around his shoulder.
"What do you normally wear?" Cora began walking away as she asked, and both Stiles and Ethan followed after her. Stiles was trying to keep his eyes open for anything he would normally wear, though he wasn't having much luck.
"Uh, jeans? And t-shirts. Hoodies if it's cold out, too," Stiles shrugged. He really didn't put that much thought into his wardrobe.
"What's up with the flannels?"
"Oh, I…feel more comfortable with them, I guess?" He shrugged again, a little uncomfortable with how the two wolves were looking at one another.
"So, a few good shirts, some jeans," Ethan began, his smile wicked.
"And a few of Deucalion's sweaters," Cora finished, both of them laughing when Stiles started to blush.
"You like that idea, don't you?" Cora teased, and there was nothing but comfort running along their bonds. It made Stiles feel a little better, knowing that they were both just joking around.
He was able to smile back at them, though he felt a little wrong-footed. It had been so long since had been teased by a friend, since he—fuck, since he had a friend—that he felt out of his depth. He wasn't sure how to play along, what to say to keep up the easy atmosphere that had grown between them.
"I—maybe?" Stiles settled on, his own smile small and a little nervous, but no less genuine.
Cora hummed, rifling through a few shirt racks and passing things over to Ethan. Stiles kind of wished she was handing things to him. At least that way he would have something to do with his hands.
"I know Peter talked to you about what was going on there. Care to share?" Cora asked.
Stiles chewed on the inside of his cheek as he continued to browse the racks of shirts. Most of them were plain, but it gave him something to do with his hands as he thought of an answer to give. The truth was, he still didn't really know. Yes, they had cleared a few things up last night, and they had that moment this morning, but Stiles wasn't sure what to call them.
"It's okay if you don't know," Ethan said, and Stiles turned to find his face wearing a soft, open smile.
"We're still figuring it out," Stiles said, which must have been enough for them, as they steered the conversation away after that.
They continued to walk through the store—Stiles figured it had to be some sort of department store, with how much stuff they had—and they joked around a bit more. Cora was curious about what Beacon Hills had to offer in terms of fun, and Stiles told her about the bowling alley and the diner next to it, and how they were really wasn't all that much to do.
It was nice to be out with them, and Stiles could feel their pack bonds settling, strengthening. It helped that they all got along, and it was a little eerie to see how similar Peter and Cora were, at least when it came to their levels of sass. Ethan was…softer than Stiles had thought. Down-to-earth in a way he hadn't expected.
Stiles wandered off around the time Cora and Ethan started looking at jeans. He had given them his size and they had set him free. He was still carrying nothing, though Ethan had more shirts piled on one arm than Stiles currently owned.
Stiles was standing in front of a table covered in neatly folded shirts. The one he was looking at was a pale purple, though it had silver stitching. It was simple, but far nicer than anything Stiles currently owned, and wasn't as plain as some of the solid-coloured shirts Ethan was carrying. He brushed over the fabric with his thumb, pleasantly surprised at how soft it was.
"That one would look wonderful on you," someone said from his side, and Stiles had to stop himself from flinching when a hand grabbed his forearm.
Stiles turned to find a shop assistant staring at him with a wide smile, and the man squeezed Stiles' arm before he let it go. His name tag read Eric, and Stiles thought he looked a little too much like Jackson—pretty, but artificial.
"Would you like me to start a room?" the man asked, and Stiles was struck dumb, trying to think of some way to ask him to remove his hand.
"Yeah, that would be great," Cora said, words sharp as she pushed the clothes she was holding into the man's arms. "Everything okay?"
Stiles nodded, not entirely sure of the cause of Cora's harsh treatment towards the clerk. He had let it go by the time Ethan found them, and they looked at a few more shirts before they ushered Stiles towards the change rooms, where the pile of clothes Stiles was about to try on was nothing short of daunting.
As Stiles predicted, it took nearly an hour to go through every item and show them off to Cora and Ethan. They insisted that he show them everything he had to try on, and it just made the process longer than it needed to be. He was surprised, at how many things he liked from the insane pile of clothes, though.
Stiles had no idea pants could fit like that , and he also had no idea his ass was so nice. He wasn't really sure how it had happened, but at some point he had gotten…fit. Probably when he began running daily. Still, it was a bit of a surprise to find that he felt comfortable in the fitted clothes, even liked the way the shirts hugged his body.
The sales assistant had come back during a time when both Ethan and Cora had stepped away from the change rooms to get different sizes. He had been all wide smiles and white teeth. There had been a point when Eric had stepped close, too close for Stiles' comfort, and had adjusted the collar of the shirt Stiles was trying on, his fingers brushing along Stiles' neck and settled there, heavy and unwanted until Stiles had been able to step away.
It hadn't been the only time, though, and Eric had been back when Stiles was alone, compliments once again spilling from his lips. Stiles had tried to voice his displeasure the second Eric got too close, but he hadn't been able to get the words out. All he could do was silently freak out as Eric ran a hand over Stiles' hip, sliding up under his shirt. Even with Stiles' magic, he felt helpless against the human.
He couldn't bring himself to protest or to move away, his breath catching in his throat as panic built in his belly. He couldn't do anything , and he felt as helpless as he had in that basement, weak and terrified. All his breath rushed out of him when Cora returned and Eric stepped back.
Her face was pulled down into a frown. Stiles was sure she could smell his panic, but he shook her head. Embarrassment and shame were heavy in his chest, and he wouldn't know what to say if she asked.
He hadn't been up to trying on clothes after that he just wanted to go home. But he had tried to push through, for Cora and Ethan's sake. They had spent so much time with him today, and they had really tried to find him clothes that he liked and would look good on him. He didn't want to let them down, although he was sure they could sense his negative mood.
They hadn't made him stay too much longer after that, and Stiles was glad when they left the store. Paying with Deucalion's credit card had been a welcome distraction, and he was able to laugh through Cora's teasing. Stiles was blown away by the number of bags they ended up carrying out of the store—he wasn't even sure he currently owned as much clothing as they had just bought.
He tried to get a hold of himself during the drive home, and Cora and Ethan were quiet in the front seat. He took the time he needed to get himself in order, trying his best to sort through his thoughts. He felt dirty. He knew that Eric's scent would be on his skin, and the knowledge of that made his stomach tight.
Stiles wished he had been able to say something at the store. It made him hate Gerard all the more, the way he was still affected by what the man did to him. It wasn't enough that he woke up with nightmares, but now he couldn't even speak up for himself when he was uncomfortable? Stiles could only hope that wasn't the case, and that he could write the experience in the store off as a one-time thing.
He was still healing. He knew that, but it annoyed him to no end how things could still bother him, could still affect him in such a big way. Stiles tried his best to clear his head. It was done with, and he knew dwelling on the moment would do nothing but hurt him more. If he was going to move on, he had to let it go.
Before he knew it, they were pulling into his driveway and he felt more level-headed. More than anything, he was tired. The house was emptier than he had been expecting—his dad's cruiser was gone from the driveway, though he had no idea where Peter or the other Alphas had gone. He sent his companions a sleepy smile before he made his way up to his room.
Stiles placed all the bags on the floor near the door, telling himself that he would sort through all the clothing once he had taken a nap. The emotional trip to the mall and then the all the thinking during the ride home had tired him out. He didn't want to shower, but he still felt dirty, and he knew he wouldn't be able to sleep unless he did.
Stiles looked inside at his bonds, letting the gold magic glow brightly within his chest. Everything felt fine, and he didn't turn around when his bedroom door opened—he could feel Deucalion moving closer. Stiles pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the side, closing his eyes as he hung his head. Deucalion's presence was washing over him, nothing but comfort and safety, and Stiles let it clear his mind.
He didn't jump when Deucalion pressed against his back, and he leaned into the hold when the Alpha's arms wrapped around his waist. Deucalion growled; the noise vibrated through Stiles' body and he let himself go boneless, trusting Deucalion to hold him up.
"What the hell happened?" the man bit out, dragging his nose and mouth over Stiles' neck, breath hot and damp against his skin. Stiles shivered, and the touch—from Deucalion—was more than welcome.
"You reek ," Deucalion said, nipping at Stiles' neck as he gripped his waist, running his hands over Stiles' bare skin.
"Mhm, I'm sorry," Stiles said, voice quiet as he laced his fingers together with Deucalion's where they still lay on his hips.
"Nothing to be sorry about," Deucalion said, and Stiles let out a rather embarrassing whine when the man pulled Stiles' skin into his mouth and sucked , "but you're mine, and right now you don't smell like it."
Stiles let Deucalion continue, though he couldn't help but feel disappointed once again. Deucalion was pressed bodily against him, warm along his back and was still kissing at Stiles' neck, worrying the skin between his teeth and lips. It felt good, felt so good , but Stiles' body wasn't reacting. Well, he could feel himself chubbing up, his cock taking interest, but he—he wasn't aroused.
"Is this okay?" Deuc asked, and Stiles nodded, not quite trusting his voice.
Deucalion's hand were moving from his waist, one sliding lower until his fingers were teasing the hem of Stiles' jeans, just the very tips of his fingers slipping under the fabric. The other hand was splayed wide over Stiles' belly, big and warm, and that felt good too. Deucalion was pressing light kisses to Stiles' neck, still, and Stiles was getting nothing from the action.
"I'm sorry," Stiles said again, and his voice cracked with the words, the admission. It was clear his cock wasn't going to get any harder, and Deucalion's hands moved to once again settle on his hips. He could probably force it, maybe, but he didn't want to be with Deucalion like that.
"I'm going to shower," Stiles said, tears stinging against his eyes as he tried to pull away.
Deucalion wasn't letting up, though. The Alpha stepped back just enough that he could use his hold on Stiles' hips to turn him around. Stiles all but fell into Deucalion's chest, letting the man pull him in and hold him up. He felt safe, Deucalion's scent strong in his nose, his arms around Stiles keeping him settled.
"It's okay, Stiles," Deucalion said, voice soft and mouth pulled up in a soft smile.
Stiles nodded against Deucalion's chest, rubbed his skin into the soft fabric of his shirt and tried to breathe, to push down the disappointment and the anger that rose.
"Shower, and after we could watch a movie?" Deuc offered, and Stiles smiled, just a little, pushing down what he was feeling to deal with later. He would shower, and then he would cuddle with Deuc, and maybe, if he was feeling up to it, they could kiss some more. Soft, like they had in the morning.
That would be okay. Stiles was looking forward to it, even.
I'll Make the Pancakes
Chapter Notes
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Stiles stumbled down the stairs, not even half awake, clinging to the railing for support as he went. He didn't bother opening his eyes—he knew exactly how many steps it took to get to the coffee maker without having to look, and he always felt a little bit of pride when he managed to make it all the way from his bedroom to the coffee pot.
He'd just taken his last step, his arms awkwardly out in the air to avoid knocking into any furniture, when a hand caught his own out of the air. Stiles' brow pulled down in confusion, though he didn't pull his hand away. The only people in the house were the pack, his pack , and he wasn't worried. His lips twitched when a mug was placed in his hand, and whoever it was curled Stiles' fingers around the ceramic until Stiles had a good grip.
Stiles took a sip and hummed happily. The coffee was to his liking, and he opened his eyes expecting Peter. Instead, Ennis was smiling down at him, face open and expression happy.
"Thank you," Stiles said, and he knew he must have sounded surprised.
"I'm usually the first one up, which often means getting breakfast ready," Ennis told him as he walked back over to the stove, as though that did anything to explain how he knew what Stiles liked in his coffee.
Stiles followed after him over to the stove, both hands wrapped around the warm mug as he continued to sip at his coffee. Ennis had two pans going, one frying eggs and the other cooking bacon. Stiles had to assume that someone had gotten groceries yesterday, because that certainly did not look like the turkey bacon that he kept stocked in the freezer for his father.
"Hashbrowns are warming in the oven," Ennis said, gesturing with his head, and Stiles nodded.
Groceries had definitely been gotten, then. Stiles had to wonder if Deucalion had paid for the food the way he had for Stiles' clothes—there was no way he and his dad would have been able to afford everything that had been bought.
Stiles leaned against the island, more than content to just watch. During his research, he'd heard horror stories about the Alpha who was standing in his kitchen. They were all ones that Stiles believed—he knew just how much damage the Alpha pack had caused, and Stiles had to wonder how they could all be so okay with fundamentally changing the way they behaved. It seemed too good to be true, and while Stiles could understand Deucalion's and Cora's motivations, he didn't know about the others.
It made him nervous, to be letting them into his home. He knew that they followed Deucalion, but he wasn't sure how much of that was due to respect and how much was because Deucalion had been the strongest Alpha. Stiles was nervous they wouldn't accept the changes Stiles needed them to make.
He wasn't just going to write them off, though, and he smiled again. "Can I make pancakes?"
Ennis' smile grew, just a little, and it was enough for Stiles to feel his happiness through their bond. He had to wonder how it felt for the wolves to be bonded with an Emissary, especially going so long without one. For him, the bonds felt like golden light, shining in his chest. The one he had with Deucalion was the strongest, something he felt like he could touch, if he wanted to.
The others were weaker, but they were steadily getting stronger. Stiles knew that the other bonds would never feel as strong as the one he shared with his Alpha, but he was still able to feel where they sat within his chest. It was interesting how…different they all felt. The bond he shared with Peter was nothing like the one he had with Cora, and Ethan's was nothing like either.
Ennis', now, was strumming with enjoyment. Stiles reached into the cupboard above him for the flour, and set about gathering the ingredients he would need and setting them onto the counter. They weren't complicated to make, but he made sure to use a healthy amount of vanilla and cinnamon in the batter. It was something his mother had always done, and Stiles never got out of the habit.
There was already a pan heating on the stove by the time Stiles had mixed the batter up; Ennis had made room for him. Ennis was leaning against the counter next to the stove, holding his own cup of coffee and watching his food fry. Stiles wasn't sure what to say, so he busied himself in pouring out two pancakes, making sure the heat was right.
"You can ask, ya know," Ennis said, and Stiles looked up at him with a frown.
"I don't know what yo—" Stiles tried, but Ennis cut him off.
"C'mon, kid. I know about all the research you did on us. I know how curious you must be," he explained, and Stiles was glad he didn't look upset.
"Well, I am a little curious. But you don't have to tell me anything you don't want me to know. You're entitled to your own privacy," Stiles told him
"I knew Kali was my mate when I met her," Ennis began, and Stiles was surprised. He never thought someone so imposing could look so soft. "We wanted to join our packs together, but they were…less than pleased. They resisted, but when Kali got pregnant they couldn't stop it from happening."
Stiles held in a gasp when Ennis' pain exploded through their bond. Stiles was going to tell him to stop, that it was okay, but he kept going. "They told us that she'd died during birth."
Making sure the pancakes weren't going to burn, Stiles stepped closer and placed a hand on Ennis' forearm, squeezing it and pushing as much reassurance through the bond as he could. Ennis gave him a watery smile and pulled his arm away so he could lay it over Stiles' shoulders and tug him against his side.
"We were too distressed to hear the lie." His voice was bitter, and Stiles felt his own anger building in his chest. "Things didn't end well when we found out. They had all known, both of our packs, and they had worked together to plan it. They thought the death of our child would split us apart. We were within our right to do what we did, and it—it was easy to do. After what they had done."
Stiles wrapped an arm around Ennis' waist and hugged him, tried to give any reassurance he could. He had no idea what to say to that, couldn't even imagine what it could possibly feel like to have your child murdered . He hugged Ennis a bit tighter, and the man chuckled into his hair.
"Thank you for telling me," Stiles said, his own voice cracking with emotion. He couldn't even imagine that type of betrayal.
"Your pancakes are going to burn," Ennis told him, face still tucked into Stiles' hair. He nodded, though he didn't move until Ennis gave him a little push.
By the time he flipped the two pancakes, the bottoms were darker than he would like, but he stuck them into a Corningware to keep in the oven anyway. He and Ennis lapsed into silence, working beside one another easily. Stiles hadn't cooked breakfast with someone else in years, and it was nice to have company during the quiet stillness of the morning.
Stiles was more than a little surprised that neither the twins nor Cora had woken up yet, as close to the kitchen as they were, and he felt along his bonds. His dad and Peter were up, and so was Deucalion, though Stiles was thankful for the privacy he had been given. He reached out toward Deuc, tugging along the bond to get the man moving.
He was humming as he mixed up more pancake batter. The shower had started shortly after he urged Deucalion to come downstairs, and he could hear his dad and Peter moving around in their room. He only turned around when he heard someone step into the kitchen, and he was shocked to see Kali standing there. He couldn't feel their bond as strongly as he did the others. She was glaring strongly at him, and the sight made Stiles uncomfortable.
"Hey, babe," Ennis said, his smile turning into something far softer at the sight of Kali. Stiles tried for a smile too, but Kali just continued to glare at him.
"Well alright," Stiles said, going back to watching his pancakes. It was too early for that.
Stiles was putting his plate of food onto the dining room table when Deucalion came into the room. He was quiet as he wrapped Stiles in a hug from behind, pulling him flush to his chest and pressing his face into Stiles' neck. Stiles didn't mind the affection one bit, and he leaned back against his Alpha
"You're wearing my shirt," Deucalion said against his neck, dragging his nose across Stiles' skin.
Stiles smiled, pleased at the reaction he was getting. "It's soft."
Deucalion hummed his agreement, and he continued to rub his face into Stiles' neck. His stubble scraped pleasantly at Stiles' skin and he didn't protest when Deucalion slipped his hands under the shirt Stiles had on. Deucalion's hands were warm where they rested on his belly, and Stiles didn't want to move.
"Hands off my underaged son, Deucalion," John said as he walked into the room, his stern sheriff's glare full of disapproval. Stiles missed Deucalion's heat when he stepped away.
"Ah, let them be, John," Peter said as he followed, carrying four foldable chairs which he attempted to arrange around the small table. "His hands were above the waist."
Stiles sent a smile Peter's way before pressing a kiss to his dad's cheek. He sat next to Deucalion at the dining room table; they were pressed together from shoulder to thigh with the way the chairs were crammed together. The pack filtered in with their own plates, Ennis putting one down in front of Deucalion, as they tried to force themselves into the seats Peter had brought up.
It was a tight fit, but eventually they managed to all grab a seat—except for Kali, who seemed to prefer standing broodily by the door. Ennis had offered both his chair and his lap to her, but she did nothing but glare him down. The room was quiet as they began to eat. Stiles didn't want to buy into stereotypes, but the wolves sure could eat.
"Breakfast is good," John said. Stiles could tell just how much he was trying—to accept Stiles' new pack, letting so many people into his home, dealing with his and Deuc's relationship—and Stiles appreciated it more than he knew how to say.
"Ennis did most of it, actually," Stiles told him, smiling at the man.
"He usually does the cooking," Ethan added, and Ennis' own face curved into a smile.
It wasn't long after that they finished, though no one made a move to leave the table at first. John and Peter were talking quietly together, and Cora and Ethan were chatting with each other. The quiet buzz of noise was welcome, so different than the silence Stiles had long since grown used to. Deuc had an arm draped over his chair, and Stiles leaned back into it, shooting Deuc a smile when he began playing with the sleeve of Stiles' shirt.
"As much as we appreciate the hospitality you have shown us, it is clear that we are beginning to overstay our welcome," Deucalion said when there was a lull in the other conversations, and he gestured to the crowded dining room.
"I don't mind you all here. It's been…nice, having the house so full," John said, and Stiles looked at his dad with a smile.
"And we thank you, Sheriff. But we need to find someplace to settle down. Stiles has two years left of school in this town, and it wouldn't hurt to get Cora and the twins back into school," Ennis spoke up, nodding to the three teens.
"I guess that makes sense," John said. "Do you have their papers in order?"
"We have what we need."
"You're planning on taking over the land, then?" Peter asked. There was a sharpness to the question that Stiles hadn't been expecting.
"Only if you would willingly give me your claim. I know the land is yours, despite your status, and I don't want to take that from you unwillingly," Deucalion told him and inclined his head.
"Wait," Stiles sad, sitting up in interest. "Wouldn't the land be Derek's? He's the Hale Alpha."
"I never abandoned it," Peter spat the word, his lip curling back into something akin to a snarl.
"I know you only submitted to me because of Stiles, but I would like to be your Alpha, Peter," Deucalion said. Stiles felt bad—he had never stopped to think about what submitting to Deucalion would be like for Peter. He would have to talk to him. "We are a strong pack with two blood Hales. I would do right by the territory."
"Well, I would rather give the land to my own Alpha than to my nephew," Peter scoffed, sounding as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"What does…handing over the territory involve?" Stiles couldn't quite keep the excitement out of his voice. "Oh, is it magic!?"
"Yes, darling. There is a ritual you will have to perform," Deucalion told him quietly, though he smiled when Stiles bounced excitedly in his seat.
"Where do you plan on moving?" John asked, voice tense, and Stiles figured it was because of the endearment.
"I haven't begun to look yet. We would need lots of space, for the pack we have now and in case the pack ever expands further," Deucalion told him, seeming unfazed by John's hard tone.
"You could just buy out several floors of an apartment building; you have the money for it," Stiles suggested, leaning back into Deuc's space and sending his dad a glare.
"And how do you know our budget?" Deuc asked.
"Oh please, I've seen all of your bank accounts."
"How?" Cora asked, staring at Stiles with wide eyes.
"Oh," Stiles began, wiggling his fingers in the air, letting enough magic bleed through that sparks flew around them, "that's a secret."
After breakfast, Ennis and Peter disappeared together. Stiles didn't think much of it—he'd been doing his own bonding with the pack, and he was happy to see Peter making an effort to get to know his new packmates. He had been too caught up in himself and the changes happening to his life to properly think about what Peter might have been going through, and Stiles couldn't help but feel guilty.
Peter had been his first packmate, had been his Beta , and Stiles had been neglecting him without even realizing it. Peter had stood by him when Stiles least expected him to, when no one else had, carving a place for himself in Stiles' life. Not only was he pack, but he was dating his dad, living with them now, and Stiles was quickly considering him a parental figure.
And Stiles hadn't bothered to see how he was doing. So much had happened in only a couple of days, and Stiles felt like his life had been turned upside down without the time to process it. He had been so busy that he hadn't let the gravity of it all hit him, and now—now he felt like he could hardly breathe.
Stiles felt like he was drowning , finally letting his mind catch up with all that had happened to him. He breathed as deeply as he could and tried to settle his mind. He hadn't given himself the time to meditate in too long, and it seemed to have caught up with him. He tried for another deep breath, doing his best to push down the sudden wave of panic before it got to be too much.
He tried to quiet his mind, and focused on his breathing until he could take a full breath. Stiles felt unsettled, wrongfooted, as he tried to sort through everything that had happened since Sunday. Slowly, as the panic settled and he continued to calm down, he was able to breathe. He tried to get a handle on the fact that he was now the Emissary to the Alpha pack .
The realization—as delayed as it was—made something like pride swell in his chest. Stiles had felt confident in the gains he'd been making in his magical studies, but this was so much more than that. This, his position as Emissary, was proof of that—proof that he was strong, that he could take care of himself, protect himself.
With a newfound confidence, Stiles inhaled again, pulling at his spark and letting it rise under his skin. Now, it was as easy to quiet his mind as it was to breathe without panic pushing at his lungs. He let himself get lost in his own magic, mind calming to nothing but a quiet hum.
His magic felt restless with disuse, and Stiles focused on flexing it, pulling and pushing until it began to calm. It was as bright as ever inside him, and it felt overjoyed to be free. Stiles let it swell around him, could feel how it was lifting the furniture in his room in an attempt to tire itself out.
Now that his magic was in use, Stiles took the moment to brush it along his wards. He could still feel where they originated from, the power that the symbols he had painted into his front door held. His magic blossomed out from there, spider-webbing around the whole house. He pushed his spark into the threads magic surrounding the house, watching in his mind's eyes as the webbed dome that sat over his house grew solid, more and more tendrils of magic overlapping.
He could feel the finality as the wards set in, but they felt…different. There was a red tinge to his magic that had never been there before. It wasn't hard to guess that it was the added power from the Alpha pack bleeding into his own magic. It was beautiful, the soft pink that his magic now was, and he wondered if that would be the colour his eyes glowed, the next time he called upon his spark.
Stiles spent some more time on the wards, feeling them out and making sure all the Alphas had free access to the house. He was a little surprised to find that they all already did. He must have subconsciously altered the wards, or the wards altered themselves when he submitted to Deucalion, but either way he didn't have to do anything to grant his pack access.
With his magic humming under his skin, Stiles continued to float in his own consciousness. He already felt more settled, comfortable in his skin. He hadn't realized just how restless his spark had been until it was quiet.
When he finally came back to himself, he wasn't surprised to find Peter watching him. He had felt it when the wolf entered his room, though he had been busy focusing on coming back to himself. Stiles stretched, sending a smile Peter's way as he moved back to sit against the headboard.
"Did you know that you glow, when you do that?" Peter asked, walking further into the room and settling himself cross-legged on Stiles' bed.
"I know my eyes glow, sometimes," Stiles said.
"It is quite the sight," Peter added with a soft smile, and their pack bond was warm with Peter's pride.
"I wanted to…apologize?" Stiles said after a moment of silence, not entirely sure just what he wanted to say.
"Whatever for?"
"I haven't been there for you lately. Not like I should have been. Not like pack," Stiles told him, reaching out and squeezing Peter's knee.
Peter just huffed, rolling his eyes as if Stiles was being ridiculous. "Oh please. I am a grown man, Stiles. I am quite alright."
"Still, I'm sorry. And, thank you for following me. You had no reason to, but it—it means a lot," Stiles said, smiling when Peter covered his hand with his own. "So, how are you doing? What do you think of the pack?"
"I…don't mind them. It is great to have Cora back, especially to have her in my pack. Ennis seems to be alright, though I can't say I'm a fan of Kali."
"Where did you guys disappear to, anyway?" Stiles asked.
"We were house hunting. Apartment hunting, rather."
"Oh, they took my suggestion seriously?" Stiles asked, smiling to himself.
"Stiles, of course Deucalion took your suggestion seriously," Peter said with an eyeroll.
"What? What do you mean 'of course'?"
"It's clear that he sees you as his mate, Stiles," Peter told him, chuckling when Stiles blushed.
"We've talked about the bond a little, but he never said…"
"He probably wouldn't, not with you being so young," Peter said, and Stiles frowned.
"I know Kali is Ennis' mate, but what does that mean?"
"Really, it's a lot like marriage, just without the option for divorce. A mating is a ceremony tying two people together. When two wolves mate, or a wolf and a human, a bond is formed. It's stronger than a pack bond, more . You feel them on a deeper level." Peter explained, giving Stiles a knowing look. "It's easier to feel what they're feeling, sometimes to the point where you can…communicate, almost. You can get a sense of where they are if you need to."
"M-marriage?" Stiles asked, his voice cracking as he repeated what Peter said in his head.
"Only if he were to bite you, Stiles. Even if his wolf recognizes you as a mate, it doesn't mean you have to be with him or that you owe him anything,"
"But…what would it be like for him? If I wasn't with him?" Stiles couldn't help the worry that bled into his tone. He didn't want to hurt Deucalion, even indirectly.
"Wolves can recognize more than one person as their mate, Stiles. It just means there is potential there. That Deucalion's wolf recognizes you as a good match, and is both emotionally and physically attracted to you."
"So he'll be fine?" Stiles asked, having to make sure.
"If you two weren't together, he could become irritable. It would be grating on his wolf to have you so close and not be able to claim you like it wanted to. But he wouldn't be in any sort of pain," Peter said, smiling at him.
"How do you know?"
"I am very well educated, Stiles. And besides, it's something we are taught while we go through puberty."
"So, uhm, did you have a mate?" Stiles asked, though he cringed the moment he realized just what type of memories the question could bring up.
"No, I never did. Actually, your father is my mate," Peter told him, though he wouldn't meet Stiles' eyes as he spoke.
"That's awesome!" Stiles said, his face splitting into a smile.
"It is?" Peter asked, his head tilted to the side like a puppy.
"Of course!" Stiles said, though he found himself getting emotional, eyes burning as his chest went tight.
"I—you're crying?"
"Because I'm happy," Stiles told him. He crawled forward until he was sitting sideways in Peter's lap. When the wolf didn't do anything, Stiles took Peter's arms and wrapped them around his own waist, hugging Peter back.
Peter chuckled into his hair, but his voice was thick when he spoke. "Thank you."
"I love you," Stiles told him, and he meant it. He had no idea when Peter became family, but he wasn't going to let go of him now that he was.
"I love you too, pup," Peter told him, tightening his arms and finally returning the hug.
"You're going to have to ask him to marry you," Stiles said, nuzzling into Peter's chest. "He won't do it himself. Didn't even ask my mom."
Peter hummed at that, though he didn't say anything. He was still rubbing his nose through Stiles' hair, but Stiles didn't mind the cuddling. He figured he should have felt a little uncomfortable in the positions they were in, but he had always been rather tactile, and he knew how much wolves craved touch.
Besides, Peter was warm, and was great at cuddling, and Stiles couldn't help the smile that broke out over his face.
If There's a Chance of Someone Dying Tomorrow, We Should Definitely Have a Movie Night
It didn't take Stiles long to find out where Grandpa Argent was hiding out. Google had always been his asset, and since he started meditating regularly, he had been able to do more with his spark than he ever could have imagined. His magic was so much more than he'd known was possible, and he took countless notes in the spelled book Peter had given him.
When he looked online, it was like magic bled from his fingers and into his keyboard. If he wanted to find something, it only took a few minutes of searching before exactly what he needed popped up on his screen. When it came to Gerard, it didn't take long before Stiles found record of the nursing home Chris must have checked him into.
He took a moment to wonder why Gerard's son would check him into a care centre under his real name, and why those records would be public, before he realized he didn't care. It worked better for him, anyway.
His bond with Peter lit up, pulling him out of his thoughts. That morning, the man had once again disappeared with Ennis. Stiles had thought nothing of it, since he'd spent the morning with Cora, driving around and showing her the town a little more. They'd avoided the warehouse district and anywhere else where they might have run into Derek. They didn't get into it, but Stiles could tell she wasn't ready to see him yet.
It was when they got home that Stiles began looking for Gerard. He knew he wouldn't feel safe until the man was dead. Sleep was still hard to come by, though it seemed to be getting better now that Deucalion shared his bed. If he couldn't sleep, at least he could hold Deucalion against his chest and remind himself that he wasn't back in that basement, that there was nothing to worry about, that he was safe.
More than anything, having Deucalion's weight settled over him was the perfect reminder that things had changed. He wasn't the weak, defenseless human he'd been when Gerard had kidnapped him. Still, it would be nice to not wake up from nightmares in the first place. And there was the...other issue that Stiles had, though he had no idea how to move past that one.
A knock pulled him away from where he'd gotten lost in his thoughts again, and he looked up. Deucalion was standing in his doorway, knuckles resting against the frame. Stiles smiled, taking in the man's appearance with an appreciative whistle. He hadn't actually seen Deucalion yet today—Stiles had left before he'd gotten out of bed, and Deucalion hadn't been home when he got back—but he looked good.
The slacks he was wearing seemed to cling to his thighs, and his polo shirt was stretched over his chest. Stiles smiled as he stood, feeling comfortable in his new clothes if only because they seemed to make him match with Deucalion. His jeans were black and fit him well, and while he was only wearing a t-shirt, it fit him properly and showed off a small logo that would mean far more to Jackson Whittemore than it did to him.
Stiles walked into his space easily. Things between them had been much smoother since their discussion. Deucalion had seemed to open up just a bit more, and Stiles was enjoying the easier way the man held himself when they were together. He was only able to notice it after it had changed, but he could tell Deucalion felt more secure in their bond than he had before.
Resting a hand on Deucalion's rather firm chest, he leaned up and brushed a soft kiss to his lips, smiling into it when the man's arm wrapped around his waist to press them more tightly together. This was something he never could have imagined having, but that he was so, so grateful for.
"Peter and Ennis have some news for us," Deucalion told him, his words muffled by the way Stiles was still pressing their lips together.
"Okay," he mumbled, but he didn't pull back for another few minutes. When he did, Deucalion was watching him with a smile so soft that Stiles' heart tripped over itself. Before Deucalion could speak, Stiles grabbed his hand and said, "Let's go see what they want."
He pulled Deucalion down the stairs behind him. Despite only being there a few days, the older man was already able to navigate Stiles' home with ease. He didn't need his cane while inside, nor did he ghost his hand along the wall as he walked. It made Stiles smile to think about, enjoying the pleasant thrum of warmth that settled in his chest.
The pack was already gathered in the living room. Peter and Ethan were standing, talking with one another. Stiles was sure everyone but him and his dad would be able to hear what they were saying, but Deucalion didn't seem to be paying attention, so it probably wasn't important.
Kali was leaning in the corner, as usual, and his dad was sitting in his armchair. With Cora and the twins taking up the couch, only the love seat was still empty. Stiles let go of Deucalion's hand when he sat down, but as soon as the man had sat down beside him, he rested his hand on Stiles' thigh—much to the annoyance of Stiles' father, if his scrunched face was anything to go by.
Stiles ignored it. He knew how his dad felt, and his dad knew how he felt, and his disapproval wasn't going to change anything. Stiles was thankful that he hadn't said anything, though. He looked to the front of the room when Peter cleared his throat, their bond strumming with anxiety.
"We found Gerard." Peter's announcement was met by silence. The pack stared at him and Ennis in shock.
After a moment Stiles said, "So did I. Well, I found the care home he was checked into."
"He's no longer in the home," Peter told him, though he did so kindly.
Before anyone else could say anything, Ennis added, "We've been able to track him to an abandoned warehouse. But...it's not pretty."
"What do you mean, 'not pretty'?" Deucalion asked. His fingers gently dug into Stiles' thigh as his hand tensed.
"Well, it's less of a warehouse and more of a fortified panic room, really." Peter's voice was solemn. Stiles had no idea what he must have seen to make him sound like that, and he didn't think he wanted to know.
"The entire compound is surrounded by mountain ash. We could only get so close, but we counted nearly fifty hunters, walking about in shifts," Ennis added. He made eye contact with Peter, and something passed between them.
"I've never seen a place so heavily fortified," Peter told them quietly, his eyes flashing blue. Stiles sent a pulse of comfort along the bond, doing the same for Ennis, and he got two smiles in turn.
"Where is this?" John asked, leaning forward in his seat. Stiles thought he could feel Peter's discomfort, especially when his dad reached out and took Peter's hand in his own.
"A few hours out. Christopher seems to have put him into a care home three towns over—but that isn't saying much in Beacon County. It would be a day's trip, if we left early and everything worked out."
"Okay, so when are we going?" Cora asked, leaning forward as excitement bled through her bond.
"Wait, what do you mean?" Stiles asked, his entire body tensing up.
"You wanna get it over with, right? We should go as soon as we can," Ethan told him. Stiles tilted his head to the side in confusion.
"You guys don't have to come, really. I'm sure I can handle this on my own. My magic has gotten a lot stronger, and I—"
"Did you think we were lying when we said that we were going to come with you?" Aiden snapped, a hint of anger in his voice. It was only the second thing the other boy had ever said to him.
"No, I didn't think you were lying, I just..."
"You aren't used to having a pack that cares about your well-being," Peter finished for him, their bond humming warmly. Deucalion's hand tightened further on his thigh and indignation flared through Stiles' mind, hot and angry. He covered Deucalion's hand with his own, sending him a small smile.
"Our last pack...wasn't good. I cared about them, but they didn't care about me. Peter was little more than an Omega, and in the end, they didn't care that I walked away after spending months hurting myself in the name of helping them," Stiles said with a shrug. Deucalion growled beside him, and he realized that he hadn't yet explained to any of them what had happened with the Hale pack.
"That's fucking bullshit," Ethan growled, only calming down when Aiden linked their fingers together over Cora's lap. She laid of her own over their joined hands.
"That isn't how a pack works," Ennis said. His voice was an angry rumble that Stiles hadn't before heard from him. "I don't care about your old pack. You're ours now, and that means you aren't risking your life on your own. If you're going, then so are we."
"I can't...I can't ask you guys to risk your lives for me," Stiles said weakly. Everyone was watching him, and the amount of support he could feel along his bonds was staggering. He'd known that the Hale pack hadn't treated him well, but compared to this? It made the months of torment he went through feel that much worse, knowing what having a pack who cared about him felt like.
"We're your pack , kid," Ennis told him, his arms crossed over his chest. "You aren't asking us anything. We're offering."
Stiles took a deep breath and bit into his bottom lip to keep from crying. He dug his nails into Deucalion's palm in a desperate attempt to get some control over his emotions. He hadn't known it could feel like this. "Thanks," he said wetly. He scooted closer to Deucalion and let the man tuck him under his arm so he could cuddle against his chest.
"Tomorrow is Sunday. That should work perfectly for a day trip," Dad said, and Stiles shot his head up to look at him with wide eyes.
"Dad, you have to stay here," Stiles said, grabbing Deucalion's free hand when Dad levelled him with a flat glare.
"Stiles, if you think I'm letting you risk your life while I just sit around twiddling my thumbs—" "—Dad, it's too dangerous—" "—then you have another think coming."
"John," Peter said quietly, his free hand wrapping around the one he was already holding, "Stiles is right. You're human, and ah, you don't have the magic that Stiles does. It is too dangerous this time."
"That is my son ," his dad said fiercely, and Peter's face softened.
"I know, my love. But if you're there, both of us are going to be worried about you, and neither of us will be able to focus the way we have to. I've never seen anything like this before. I'm not even sure we have the power to get past everything Gerard has lined up against us."
Stiles could tell his dad wasn't happy just by the slope of his shoulders and the tense line of his jaw, but he said nothing. He could feel his dad's irritation, but he knew his dad was irritated with himself, not them. He didn't talk about it, but Stiles knew he felt useless in the face of the supernatural.
"We'll keep them safe, John," Deucalion told him. There was a gravity to his voice that Stiles hadn't heard before, and when he looked over the man's face was solemn. For a long moment, Stiles couldn't believe how incredibly lucky he was, to have so many people who cared about him.
"I'm holding you to that, Deucalion," his dad said.
There was a beat of silence before Stiles interrupted it. "Well, if there's a chance of someone dying tomorrow, we should definitely have a movie night."
Breakfast first. Then murder.
Chapter Summary
Cuddling, breakfast, then a long drive followed by a magical forest.
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
Stiles hadn't slept well that night. Despite his best efforts, he hadn't been able to shake off his anxiety enough to rest. Deucalion was warm beside him, and Stiles held him tightly against his chest as he tried to ignore his spiralling thoughts. Covered in night, all he could think about was everything that could go wrong, all the ways he could lose the family that he had built around himself in only a handful of days.
That's what his pack was, at least to him. They were family , and while he was closer with some than others, knew some better than he knew others, he cared about them all. If something happened to Cora, or Peter, or Deucalion ...Stiles couldn't stomach the thought, and turned restlessly. He couldn't seem to get comfortable. He kicked the blankets off his chest in his irritation, letting them slip down to pool down by his waist as he took a long, heavy breath.
He had been in such a good mood when he went up to bed. The movie night had been nice, a chance for them to unwind and bond as a group. It was something that they hadn't done before, going off in smaller groups instead, or even one-on-one. Stiles found it interesting to see how they all interacted, especially with his dad in the same room.
By the time the movie ended, Stiles had been refreshed. His cheeks had hurt from how hard he'd been smiling, curled up into Deucalion's side as the pack bickered. He'd pulled Deucalion up to bed, his dad and Peter trailing behind him. Once Stiles' door was closed Deucalion had pulled him into a kiss, one of the gentlest that they'd shared, before they stripped and got into bed.
Deucalion had fallen asleep quickly, pulling Stiles' arm over his chest and sighing happily when Stiles spooned up behind him. That was hours ago, though, and Stiles still couldn't sleep; his brain was moving too fast. He considered getting up, since at least that way he could make use of his restlessness.
A moment later, Deucalion was curling around his back. Surprisingly, Stiles didn't flinch.
Deucalion was so warm, and the arm that he threw around Stiles' waist was a welcome weight that helped to distract him. Even in sleep their bond was active, and when a nice warmth bled through their bond, Stiles could tell that Deucalion was dreaming about something pleasant. Stiles did his best to focus on his side of their connection, and he closed his magic around it, making sure that his worry and fear wouldn't bother Deucalion as he slept.
He didn't know when it happened, but the heavy warmth of Deucalion against him and the easy pleasure along their bond was enough to finally lull him into sleep.
The night before, they had all decided to leave as soon as breakfast was done with.
With a gentle kiss to Deucalion's brow, Stiles slipped out of bed to get ready for the day, finally giving up on sleep. Lying around felt like a waste when he wasn't going to be getting any more rest. His bond with Ennis led him to the kitchen, and just like the other morning Ennis passed him a cup of coffee which was made perfectly to his tastes.
He groaned appreciatively as he took his first sip, and opened his eyes with a wide smile.
"Thank you," Stiles told him, shuffling forward until he could rest some of his weight against Ennis' back.
The Beta was standing at the stove tending to the bacon he was frying. Even though he was wearing nothing but basketball shorts and a tank top, he was so warm that his body heat seeped through Stiles' clothes.
Stiles hummed happily as his bond with his dad thrummed, but he didn't bother opening his eyes when Dad ruffled his hair. "Morning, kiddo. Ennis."
"Mm," Stiles hummed, moving away when Ennis shifted. He opened his eyes to find Peter sitting on the far counter with his dad standing between his legs. Stiles smiled softly, quickly making his way over to them.
Their embrace didn't make him uncomfortable or weird him out. He was happy that they were so comfortable together, and so comfortable around him. Peter raised an arm and Stiles happily curled into his side, closing his eyes when Dad hugged him, too. His heart was close to bursting with happiness, pack bonds glowing happily in his chest, and he knew that he would do whatever it took to keep this. If he had to burn the life out of Gerard to ensure that his family was safe, he would do it without hesitation.
There was quiet for a while longer. Stiles wasn't used to so many people being in his house, but he loved it. It seemed like a lifetime ago that it was only him and his dad living there, but everything had been so much quieter. Even now, the shower sounded and he could hear Cora and the twins in the other room.
"We should leave soon," Deucalion announced. Stiles looked up to find the Alpha as impeccably dressed as ever. Instead of his usual slacks, however, he was a wearing a pair of navy jeans that did interesting things for his thighs.
"Pup, really?" Peter twisted his face up into a show of faux disgust, and Stiles laughed.
"Oh shut up," Stiles mumbled, smiling happily even as his cheeks flushed. "I'm sure you smell like arousal all the time too."
"He does," Cora said, shuffling into the kitchen and bee-lining for the cup of coffee Ennis handed to her. "Literally every time I've been around them when your dad is in uniform."
Stiles snickered at the way his dad blushed, watching as he gave Peter a soft kiss and whispered something that Stiles missed. His smile was so easy, even after not sleeping well the night before, and he stayed where he was leaning against the counter as he sipped his coffee. Cora was chatting with Ennis now, helping him cook, and Deucalion was leaning against the cabinets with a soft look at his face. He pushed his happiness towards his Alpha, and his heart warmed further when Deucalion pushed a similar feeling back.
The twins came in next. Aiden sat on a kitchen chair, though Ethan only glanced at the one next to it in distaste before he settled himself across his brother's lap and planted his face into the crook of his neck. Stiles looked over at Cora curiously, but she was only smiling at the pair softly. Huh.
"Did none of you sleep last night?" Deucalion asked the room, gaze resting on each teenager in turn with a general air of disapproval.
"I did," Aiden said. Stiles didn't miss the way his arm was wrapped around his brother and resting high on his thigh.
Deucalion let out a loud sigh. Stiles slid across the kitchen floor on socked feet to cuddle up against his side. His stomach was flat against Stiles' hand, and the material of his sweater was pleasantly soft.
"Breakfast first. Then murder," Stiles said, leaning up to give him a quick kiss, flushing when he realized it was the first time they had kissed in front of the pack—cheek kisses notwithstanding.
"Oh, I like the sound of that," Cora said with a snarl, flashing her eyes gold as she grinned.
Despite his usual car sickness, Stiles found that when he curled up against Deucalion's chest in the backseat of the rental van, it was easy to slip into sleep. The hum of the engine was soothing, and he was lulled by the way Peter and Cora were speaking quietly with each other. He was glad for the rest. He knew that he wouldn't be at his best after the scant sleep he'd gotten the night before, and if all went according to plan, they'd be going after Gerard in only a few hours.
Stiles didn't wake up until Deucalion gently shook him. They were already at the motel. Stiles had more energy than he would have expected only a few shorts hours of sleep could give him. There was a bloodthirsty excitement running along his bonds, amplified by the feedback loop of the entire pack. Stiles rubbed at his eyes as he followed Deucalion out of the van, stumbling into the man's side and resting his weight against him.
Deucalion held him up as they walked towards the motel rooms they'd rented. The building was far enough from the warehouse Gerard was hiding out in that there shouldn't be any hunters around, but close enough that it would take just under an hour to get to the forest the warehouse was in. Deucalion led him into the room Ennis had purchased, and Stiles curled up on the little couch, sleep still clinging to him.
He watched as the pack filtered into the room and set things up. Peter had brought with them a laptop that Stiles hadn't seen before, and Ennis had an entire duffle bag. From it he pulled a map and a set of markers. He laid it out over the bed as the pack crowded around. Ethan came to stand in front of Stiles, holding out a hand.
"C'mon" Ethan said, pulling Stiles up and letting him lean against his side. Stiles smiled, nuzzling against Ethan's chest when he wrapped an arm around his shoulders.
It was so nice, having a pack that was tactile with him. Stiles had always craved touch, and from the moment Scott got bit, he watched as his best friend casually touched everyone more than he ever had. He watched the pack get closer and closer, more and more comfortable in their relationships with one another. With that came casual touching and cuddling—something that Stiles had never been a part of. He had never been part of the cuddle sessions or the hugs, and it had hurt to watch.
It wasn't like that with the Alphas. They touched him and allowed him to touch them at any time. It was easy, the comfortable intimacy, and he was thankful that he'd found a group of people who accepted him the way they did. Stiles smiled happily at the warm feedback from his bond with Ethan. The adults set up as he watched, slowly waking up the rest of the way.
"This is the forest where Gerard is, and this is us," Peter said, drawing two circles on the map.
"The warehouse itself is surrounded by an electric fence," Ennis told them, drawing a ring and then scribbling down some lines that Stiles guessed represented the warehouse. "That alone is going to cause some trouble—"
"I might be able to get around that," Stiles said, scratching at his palm when everyone turned to look at him. "Uh, I can probably shut it down once we're close to it."
"Good," Peter said, and Stiles was thankful when he left it at that and moved on. "Now, when we were here, we identified about forty different hunters. We have no idea if that's an accurate number, but we do know that is most likely a minimum. They worked in shifts, but if there was a pattern, we didn't stay long enough to figure out. I am...concerned that we don't have enough information, but we also do not have enough time to sit around—"
"I want to see what we're up against," Stiles cut in, holding Peter's gaze. "Will you take me to check to it out?"
"Darling," Deucalion said quietly. Stiles cut his eyes over to him and pushed along their bond. Deucalion tilted his head to the side even as his lips thinned out.
"I'll take you," Peter told him, his expression considering. "It'll be good to see what your magic can find out."
"I'm coming too," Ennis added, and when Stiles looked over his smile was soft. "We already know the area, so it'll be safest."
Deucalion held out his arm, and Stiles left Ethan's side to give him a kiss. "It'll be fine," Stiles told him, letting his spark flow through Deucalion's body and smiling with the man shivered. "Don't forget, I'm not just a human."
"That's the warehouse?" Stiles' voice was nothing more than a whisper in the car. Despite being far enough away that they couldn't be seen, let alone heard , the van was filled with tension. Stiles couldn't deny that he was stressed, and the feeling had only grown the closer they got to the forest the warehouse was hidden in.
Stiles was currently looking through the scope of a very high-powered rifle. Military-grade weaponry was not his area of expertise, but he was sure that's what he was holding.
"Mhm," Peter said from beside him. His hand was a comforting warmth along the small of his back, keeping him grounded. Stiles needed it. "Far into the tree line. We didn't see any hunters even this far out, but again, we weren't here for very long."
Stiles nodded, focusing back on what he could see. The forest was laid out below him, from a perfect vantage point that they'd been able to drive right to. Stiles had no idea why no one was covering the drive-off, but he chalked it up to hunter arrogance. From where they were, he could see well into the forest, though it was hard to make out anything through the mess of foliage. The trees provided good cover, but the scope he was looking through was better.
"I don't like this," Stiles said quietly, sweeping his gaze back to the beginning of the forest. There were guards stationed only a few miles in, chatting with one another easily. Hell, a few had fold-out chairs, which they were sitting on.
The electric fence was a bit farther in, closer to the edge of the forest than the warehouse. It was high, its barbed top tangled with the tops of trees. Stiles had no idea how exactly the fence had been put up, but that wasn't what mattered. All he needed to know was if he could shut if off.
He closed his eyes as he called upon his spark. It was so much brighter than it had ever been before, and now it glowed a soft pink inside his chest instead of a bright white. It was his magic, same as it had always been, but it was so much more now that he belonged to the Alpha pack. He could feel the added power from each pack member, and taste the way it swirled with his own magic into something new and unique and powerful .
So very powerful.
Focusing on the bright magic, he let it expand within him until it was pushing at the edges of his skin. He didn't stop, pushing it outward of himself. He could see the world from his magic's eye, and it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. His magic slithered along the grass, helped along by the wind bending to his will, before it disappeared into the tree line.
His mind lit up when he entered the forest. All he knew was magic, and he could taste the bitter tinge of this forest's power. The hunters had done nothing but bring pain, and the land wanted them gone. Stiles felt his mouth tilt into a smile, though its viciousness was unfamiliar on his face. He flexed his magic, willing his spark to go farther , as far as it dared. He felt a nudge at his consciousness before his magic lit up and snaked out farther, jumping along the forest's floor with glee.
With more power at his disposal, Stiles was able to expand his consciousness even more. His magic was everything and everything was his magic. It bled into the forest's muddied green, blending together and letting him know more . He sent his intentions out and laughed when the forest curled around him and welcomed him in.
The fence would be easy. He wouldn't be able to disable it from here but he knew he could turn it off before stepping into the woods. As for the hunters—there were more than Stiles would have imagined. Seventy-one with the one you seek. Let us help. Take our power. Burn the parasite and rid our lands of its foul presence. Help us help you...
Stiles gasped, throwing himself back against Ennis' chest as he snapped back into his body. His spark had raced back to him, caught off-guard by the words that had slithered inside his very soul. His concentration had been shot, and he breathed deeply as he tried to get his racing heart under control. He'd never experienced something like that before, and he itched for his notebook to write down how it'd felt to have a sentient being speak to him.
"Stiles? Stiles, what happened?" Peter's voice was pinched enough that Stiles was sure it wasn't the first time he'd asked. Stiles groaned, not opening his eyes but reaching out a hand. Ennis was hugging him tightly, and Peter came as soon as Stiles tugged him in.
He let himself catch his breath, feeling overwhelmingly safe tucked between these two men. He cared so much for Peter, and he was beginning to see Ennis as someone he couldn't lose.
"This isn't going to be easy," Stiles said quietly, replaying what the forest had told him and then sharing it through his bond with the two men holding him. They gasped in unison, and Stiles smiled at them. "Amazing, right?"
"Pup, you are..." Peter trailed off, his voice tinged with awe.
"Yeah." Stiles' voice was more confident than it had been in days, and a slow smile curled his lips. "This is going to be hard as fuck , but I think...I think we can do this."
Chapter End Notes
can you tell what relationship i've started hinting at?
comments and kudos are much appreciated!
So, What's the Plan?
"Hold hands," Stiles said. His voice was quiet, but it carried through the motel room with a power that wasn't his own. The drive home had passed in silence, Stiles meditating in the back seat as he explored the consciousness of the forest. The farther away they got, the more strained the connection had become, but Stiles had seen enough to know what he needed to do. "I don't know if this is going to work, but I need you guys to trust me regardless."
"We do," Cora said steadily. When they'd gotten back to the motel, she had been the first one out of the room to greet them. Apparently, they'd all felt it when he'd been shocked back to his own consciousness, but while he had just been surprised, they'd all felt it like an electric shock to their own nervous systems. Stiles figured they'd absorbed the pain he would have otherwise felt. He'd clung to Cora just as tightly as she clung to him.
She and the twins stepped up as one, already holding hands, and Stiles tangled their fingers together with a smile. The two of them had walked together back to the motel room, where Deucalion had pulled him close immediately. Kali had gone over to Ennis, but Stiles ignored the conversation they were having when it looked like it was becoming an argument. Ethan asked him how he was doing, and Stiles had responded with nothing more than a tight-lipped smile before telling them to get into a circle.
The forest was an incredible being, as old as time, and the brief glimpses Stiles had gotten of its mind were awe-inspiring. He wasn't sure if he should call what he was about to do a spell, but he lacked a better word for the magic he was going to weave. Well, attempt to weave. The forest thought him capable, which in itself was a compliment, but Stiles wasn't certain. Despite doing all the reading he could, he still didn't know much about his magic.
"Darling, always," Deucalion told him, pulling Stiles from his thoughts and taking his hand. He brushed a kiss over his knuckles before letting their hands hang between them. Stiles' lips twisted into a smile that was so wide it hurt his cheeks, remembering the other night when Deucalion had been so unsure about how serious Stiles was about them. It was nice to see him now; even though it felt like everything was moving faster than Stiles could make sense of, he was happy that Deucalion had so much faith in him.
Peter stepped up beside Deucalion, his bond thrumming warmly between them with familial love. Stiles was thankful that he'd joined his little family. His eyes began to burn suddenly, with unshed tears of happiness. His pack's power was bleeding into his own through their joined hands, and his spark was burning under his skin, hotter than it had ever been before. Ennis stepped up next, adding his own trust and Alpha power. Stiles smiled wider, blinking away the moisture in his eyes.
Silence hung in the air for a moment, heavy with tension that Stiles hated. Kali hadn't stepped up, or even moved from where she was leaning against the wall. When Stiles looked over, her arms were crossed over her chest and her lip was pulled up in a snarl that made Stiles uneasy. She didn't like him, he knew, though the reason was still a mystery. Thankfully Ennis was already there, and when he held out a hand to her, there was only a brief moment of hesitation before she stepped forward to take it.
Stiles frowned. The connection didn't feel complete, despite their joined hands. Stiles knew why that was, but he didn't dare think it. There was too much going on, too much magic swirling through his body for Stiles to bring words to the uncertainty he'd felt since he first submitted to Deucalion. Kali grabbed Aiden's hand, completing the circle, and while it wasn't perfect, he hoped it would be enough.
He pushed aside all his uncertainty, focusing on the growing magic and letting it rise around them. It wrapped around them all, swirling through their skin and licking around their souls. It was the most magic Stiles had ever held, and it almost overwhelmed him. The steady grip of Deucalion's hand in his, the support of his pack, his family, kept him grounded.
Stiles took a deep breath that tasted like possibility—an entire realm of magic was laid out before him. His pack's magic tasted like family and felt like a warm night spent curled up on the couch with his dad, like laughing with Cora and Ethan and cooking breakfast alongside Ennis. It felt like Peter's arms wrapped around him and the comfortable perch that Deucalion's lap made when he straddled the older man's thighs.
He closed his eyes and lost himself in the magic swirling through him, his to wield through birthright and submission. He took a deep breath and focused on the ritual, which he could feel; age-old words spilled from his mouth in a lost tongue. Stiles spoke them quietly, letting the ancient magic weave through his own and tangle together, lighting up so prettily in his mind's eye. Focusing, he laid the weave of magic over his pack, and they opened up to the foreign magic with a willingness that made Stiles' heart swell.
Rolling it around them, Stiles pushed to ensure the magic lay over their skin, and then pushed more until it seeped into their bones. It felt as though he was surrounded by love. His brow furrowed when the magic paused, and he redoubled his efforts, focusing on the speck of darkness he could feel in his circle and doing his best to cover it with his own magic. He had no idea what it was, but it was wrong , and it threatened the safety of his family. It was easy to wrap his magic around it, with so much at his disposal, but he wasn't able to sink the energy any deeper.
After an endless moment he gave up, focusing on the rest of the circle and ensuring that the spell had settled into their bones. As soon as he was sure the spell would hold, he smiled, pulling his magic back into himself. The magic lent to him by the forest slowly faded away, alpha red and beta blue and beta gold slinking back to their wolves as Stiles' own spark settled inside his chest.
He blinked his eyes open to find his pack watching him with wide eyes. Their faces were awed, and openly surprised. Stiles had no idea what that had felt like for them, but if the way Deucalion and Cora were both gripping his hands tight enough to grind bone was anything to go by, it had been intense.
"Pup, what did you..." Peter asked, the first to move past the shock and ask what they were clearly all wondering.
Stiles flushed, rubbing the back of his neck even as his magic settled under his skin. "The forest told me a bit more than just how many hunters were out there."
Deucalion used the hold on his hand to tug him closer. His other hand was warm against Stiles' cheek, fingers curling under his jaw and drawing him into a kiss more heated than any they'd shared. Stiles lost himself in it, curling his fingers into Deucalion's sweater and holding on, pulling him closer, fitting their bodies together. He groaned when Deucalion licked into his mouth, though the noise seemed to shock them out of the moment.
"Darling, you are..." Deucalion trailed off, kissing him again, though much more chastely.
"What was that?" Kali's words were sharp, and Stiles felt the anger behind them even as she tried to keep a hold on her bond. "What the hell did you just do to us?"
"Kali," Ennis said, his voice soothing, and she flashed her eyes at him before turning back to Stiles.
"What the hell did you do?"
Stiles looked at Deucalion, unsure about what he should do. "I...it was just a protection spell."
Kali snarled, her fangs showing in threat, and Deucalion growled so loudly that Stiles felt it vibrate through his body. When he spoke, his words were laced with so much power that even Stiles felt the need to obey. "Enough."
Kali's eyes flashed and held, but she tilted her head in a sarcastic show of submission. Tension filled the room, and Stiles didn't know what to do to ease it. He was sure that the speck of darkness he'd been able to feel had been Kali, though he didn't know what to do with that knowledge. He turned his head and breathed in, pressing his nose into Deucalion's shoulder and turning his eyes from where Kali was still sulking.
"It's not going to stop the bullets from hitting you, but it'll stop the effects of the wolfsbane they're no doubt filled with. And the spell should boost your healing enough that the bullet wounds shouldn't be more than an inconvenience."
"Wait, really?" Aiden asked, surprise colouring his tone. Stiles nodded, feeling silly when he felt his cheeks go warm. "Dude, that's fucking awesome!"
Stiles smiled, pushing away how the unease in his chest was growing more and more familiar, and focusing on the warmth he felt through the rest of his pack bonds.
Stiles' heart was hammering in his chest. The air in the van was heavy with tension, only amplified by the emotion rolling along his pack bonds. It was all a mix of bloodthirsty glee and nervousness. From what Stiles could tell, neither he nor Cora had ever been involved in something like this before. For them, the thought of what they had to do was nerve-wracking, both of them focused on all the things that could wrong. The rest of the pack were calmer, even excited , and Stiles had to cut down on the emotional feedback loop, feeling too overwhelmed by the mix of emotions.
"Everything is going to be fine, darling," Deucalion told him, using the arm that was around Stiles' neck to tug him closer against his side. Stiles hadn't even bothered to put on his seat belt—immediately wrapping himself around Deucalion's side and cuddling close. "We are a strong pack."
"I know," Stiles said, nuzzling into his Alpha's chest. "Doesn't mean I'm not worried. Seventy hunters, Deuc. That's a lot."
"Five Alphas, two Betas and an incredibly powerful Spark. Oh, and apparently, the magic of an entire forest," Deucalion's voice was quiet, and while they weren't meant to, his words made Stiles feel silly for worrying. "I understand the fear, sweetheart, but this not our first battle. Even Peter has experience in situations like these. We are going to be fine, I promise you."
"You don't know that," Stiles grumbled, but the protest was mostly just a token one. Deucalion's easy confidence was making him feel better, and he knew that the alpha was right. They were a strong pack, and even if Stiles had never done anything like this before, never used his magic to do anything like this, he knew they were going to be okay.
"Alright." Stiles took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he let the pack bonds rush back into him. He smiled, sending out reassurance and comfort and getting the same feelings back. It made his smile stretch even wider, and by the time Peter had pulled the van to a stop, still a bit away from the forest, it was easier to breathe.
They had decided to come at night, and the sun was just setting below the horizon. The sky was bathed in golden light, but Stiles knew it would be dark by the time they hit the tree line. The dark would give them an advantage over the hunters—while the pack could all see just fine in the dark, the hunters wouldn't be able to. They clambered out of the vans, and Stiles immediately went to Peter's side, pressing their shoulders together. His dad had pulled them aside before they left, telling them to watch out for each other and make sure his boys were brought back to him.
Stiles smiled up at Peter, a smile tugging at his lips when he asked, "You ready, Pops?"
Peter blinked, staring down at Stiles with wide eyes. It probably wasn't the time, but Stiles knew he would regret it if something happened and he didn't say anything. Peter reached out, and Stiles fell into the hug easily. "I love you, pup," Peter said, his voice thick, and Stiles smiled into his neck as he hugged him back, just as tightly.
"I love you too," Stiles murmured, making sure to send what he was feeling down their bond as well. They pulled back a moment later, smiling at each other gently, and Stiles was thankful to see that the rest of the pack was giving them space. They could feel everything they were feeling and hear everything they said, but the illusion of privacy was still appreciated. Stiles turned away from Peter, clapping his hands together as he took a deep breath.
"Okay, who's ready for this?" Stiles asked, and seven sets of eyes lit up in response. "Alright. Awesome."
The walk to the forest took about forty minutes. By the time they could see the tree line clearly, the moon was high in the sky. It wasn't full, but it was close enough that the wolves would be at their peak, the magic from the moon singing within their blood and sharpening their instincts. From what they'd gathered, the hunters didn't start posts for a few miles in, and the pack felt confident that they wouldn't be seen where they were, hanging back in the industrial area that lined the woods.
Stiles closed his eyes as the pack created a ring around him. He felt safe with his pack surrounding him; Stiles knew that they wouldn't let any harm come to him. Focusing on his magic, he let his spark expand outside of himself. It brushed over the wolves happily, slithering down Deucalion's body and grinning—as much as magic could —mischievously. Stiles chuckled, pulling it away from his Alpha and focusing on the woods.
The forest's magic was easy to reach, so much clearer from where he was standing than it had been earlier. It was just as pleasant as it had been before, welcoming him easily and opening itself up under Stiles' gentle curiosity. He smiled as his mind expanded, and on his next breath he could feel the entire forest stretching out over his consciousness. In a single moment he was everything, and he breathed in as the magic filled his body and stretched him out.
Each hunter was a spot of awareness in his mind's eye. He hummed as he searched, his magic slithering along the grass as it was pulled by the forest's own spark. It slid over rocks and fallen trees, the forest directing it where it needed to be. The generator that kept the fence going was pure electricity, and as Stiles' spark slid closer, the hair along his arms stood on end. He took a deep breath as he focused on the magic that was now surrounding it.
Drawing from the circle of his wolves, he pushed their spark of magic into his own and watched as it grew big enough to surround the generator, crackling with an energy that made Stiles' mouth taste like iron. His spark surged, taking in the electrical energy and pushing it back. Stiles focused, bearing down and squeezing his magic tighter, closing in around the energy the box was giving off. He was sure he could shut it down silently, but a stray thought that wasn't his own slunk into his consciousness and made him grin.
It took only another moment of concentration before the generator exploded.
He blinked back to himself, knowing his spark was slithering back to him. His pack was watching him, and Stiles grinned. "That was loud," Ethan commented, and Stiles laughed, almost giddy. It felt unbelievably good to be useful, to have people turning to him with faith, believing in him.
"Thanks for the idea," he said, his heart warming when Ethan blushed. "A distraction was an excellent idea. Now would be the best time, are you guys ready?"
"We're going in first," Aiden said, peeling off his shirt. Stiles scrunched up his face in surprise, turning to Deucalion to see if the man had an answer. Ethan followed suit, and Stiles' confusion only increased when he said, "We'll clear the way."
Stiles was about to question what was going on when Ethan and Aiden joined hands. A moment later, their bodies were shifting, pressing closer together and...melting into one another. Growing bigger and bigger, merging and joining until their faces were melding together, and they were one large, heavily muscled...creature.
He was silent for a moment, staring at the being in front of him, before he asked, "Should the pants have just...merged as well?"
"Don't question it," Ennis grunted, but there was amusement along their bond. Stiles smiled, giving him a nod.
"Alright, so what's the plan?"
"We're going to clear the way. Ennis and Kali are going to be right behind us, picking up the scraps." The voice that rumbled out of the creature was deep, an odd mix of Ethan and Aiden that seemed to echo in the silence of the night.
"You four will follow after. We'll make sure that you can get to the warehouse, but we might not be able to follow you in. Hopefully, the explosion will have drawn most of the hunters out of the compound anyway," Ennis said, his eyes flashing red as he grinned.
"Be careful, okay?" Stiles said, his old worry climbing up his belly. He stepped forward and Ennis met him for a hug, lifting him off the ground and pulling a laugh from Stiles' throat. It helped to ease some of his tension, and he smiled up at the man when he was let down.
There was a long moment of silence, and then they took off into the tree line, faster than Stiles had ever seen someone move. They faded into the darkness of the forest; the light of the moon was not enough for Stiles to see. He pulled his spark up his neck and over his face, until the world lit up and he could see as well as if it were day. He grinned over at Peter. The beta's eyes flashed blue in response to how his were no doubt glowing, and the man smiled back.
"Ready, pup?" Peter asked, and Stiles nodded even as his heart raced.
The woods stank of blood. The metallic edge burned his nose, something he never could have imagined; the forest was drenched in it, a path of destruction left behind by his pack. Despite the horror, Stiles couldn't stop smiling. Most of his elation was not his own—the forest was revelling in the sacrifices it felt that it had earned, and every drop of blood the Alphas spilled was being swallowed by the forest as its penance for the destruction that had been brought to its woods.
He could feel the glee his pack was experiencing. Stiles would have been more surprised if he hadn't already known who they were when he submitted to Deucalion. He watched the bonds closely even as he followed behind Deucalion, walking through the forest briskly. The four of them were walking single file, Peter at the front and Cora behind Stiles, taking up the rear. He was glad that he had these three with him; he would have worried too much if they'd gone ahead.
As it was, keeping a close eye on his bonds, he felt every bullet they took, every punch, and he also felt the way the magic he had laid over them and embedded into their skin acted to burn out the poison before it could harm them. How it wrapped around the wounds and urged them to shut faster than their healing ever could. He was thankful that the spell the forest had shown him was working, and he sent his thanks into the trees, hoping that it heard him.
They kept walking through the destruction. They made quick work of the fence, Stiles' magic swelling to bend the metal until they could step over it easily. Stiles stepped forward to offer Deucalion his arm, and it hit him how much had changed in the days they had been together, how much Stiles had grown to care for these wolves, for Deucalion.
The scent of charred flesh was strong, and Stiles knew it was from the explosion. He expected to feel bad about that, but the knowledge that he had taken a life didn't weigh him down like he figured it should. The forest was loud with the sound of fighting. Stiles' ears had gone numb from the sound of gunshots, and the roaring of his pack faded away like background noise. They walked through it, untouched, their pack battling hunters around them and keeping them safe.
There was a single time that a hunter got close, but Peter had dashed ahead and taken the hunter out before Stiles could even react.
The warehouse, when they got to it, wasn't nearly as big as Stiles had been expecting. It was simple work to get the front door open, Stiles' magic slithering along the forest and popping the lock before he even had to think about that happening. The pack was still fighting around him, though the sounds of battle were getting quieter the further from the fence they were. Stiles felt an odd sense of calm wash over him, his heart slowing to something easy as his mind cleared.
This was it. It had taken months— years —of anguish to get here, but they were finally going to rid the world of Gerard. Stiles was sure he should feel something other than excited, but he couldn't help it. They were putting down a monster, a true monster, and Stiles couldn't bring himself to feel bad about that.
Not when Gerard had taken so much from him, taken so much from the people he loved. Deucalion's eyesight, Peter's family, his innocence . The man had brought him so much pain, more pain than he ever could have imagined. It was because of him that Stiles couldn't even sleep , that he couldn't...that he couldn't get aroused.
No, he didn't feel guilty. He wasn't unsure about what he had to do. He let his spark flare to life under his skin and the locked doors of the warehouse blew open with nothing more than a thought. Peter walked in first, taking out a guard with a flick of claws. A bullet went through his shoulder but the wolfsbane was irrelevant and the wound closed within seconds as the spell worked.
Stiles stepped forward so he and Deucalion would be walking side by side, and he offered his arm. Deucalion took it, though he kept his cane out and their approach was echoed by the soft tapping—a reminder of something Gerard had taken. There was a noise behind him, and Stiles turned his head back in time to see Cora flip a hunter into a wall. Even he heard the crack of bone as his body flew into the wall.
The warehouse was darkly lit and dirty. Stiles was sure it was only meant to be a temporary hideout and Stiles was glad his pack had been able to find it so quickly. He was a bit taken aback by the lack of hunters within the building, but he figured the explosion had drawn them out and their inflated egos left them feeling confident enough that they could secure whatever the threat was before it reached the warehouse.
They made their way through the halls quietly, Peter growling lowly, echoed by Cora. Deucalion was silent next to him, but their bond spoke loudly enough. Deucalion was feeling so much, more than Stiles had ever felt him feel before, that he couldn't even make sense of it. He could parse out the anger, louder than anything else, and it spurred him on.
They opened the only shut door they had come across, and Stiles' heart kicked up at what he saw: Gerard, slumped in an armchair, an IV sticking out of his arm, smiling.
The End
Chapter Notes
See end notes for warnings.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
"Ah Stiles, this is a surprise," Gerard's voice was brittle. It fit with the dark skin under his eyes and his gaunt cheekbones. The man took a breath and then coughed harshly, a shaking hand raising a handkerchief to his mouth to cough into. When his hand dropped back to his side the, fabric was stained with black blood.
" Really ? You kidnapped me and my friends and tortured us. Your daughter, working under your orders, burned the Hale family alive, and you blinded my Alpha. Did you think I was just going to do nothing?" Stiles asked incredulously, even if the man's words were closer to the truth than he would have liked.
Because if it wasn't for Deucalion and his pack, Stiles wasn't actually sure if he would have ever gone after Gerard. Even with his magic slowly flourishing, he just...wouldn't have cared enough. The man had hurt him, more than Stiles wanted to admit to, and while the thought of going after him had always been in the back of his mind—he might have never gone through with it just for his own revenge. But now, this was more than just revenge for himself.
Gerard had hurt his Alpha and his step-dad-to-be. He had taken their eyesight and their family respectively, and that wasn't something Stiles would let go of. He could handle what had been done to him, had been handling it the best he could, but he would never allow someone to hurt his family and get away with it.
"Well, I can't say I was expecting Derek to cast you aside," Gerard taunted, his smile growing, twisting into something uglier and meaner than Stiles thought possible. "After all, he was the first to sleep with an Argent."
Deucalion growled loudly beside him, and anguish flashed sharply along their bond, strong enough that Stiles lost his breath when it crashed into him. All he could do was tighten his hold on Deucalion's bicep, breathing deeply through his nose and focusing on the warmth inside his chest that was his pack.
"And I certainly wasn't expecting you to be taken in by dear old Deucalion. I'm surprised you found a pack to take you in, seeing how I left you, though I must admit I see the appeal. He's tight, isn't he, Deuc?"
Deucalion took a step forward and Stiles pushed as much warmth down their bond as he was able to muster with the man's words playing over and over in his head. "Deuc," Stiles said softly, his thumb rubbing small circles into his Alpha's skin. "Don't. He's surrounded in mountain ash."
"Ah, wise boy. The rumours are true, then? You have a spark ," Gerard shaped the word in a way that made Stiles shiver as his bloodied lips tilted into a sneer.
Stiles didn't react. He stood calmly, quietly, focusing instead on what he was bending his magic to do. Gerard's face twisted even further, no doubt upset that he was being ignored, and Stiles smiled when Gerard fell into another coughing fit. Even as he focused on what was happening in front of him he was still aware of his pack fighting outside and had part of his attention focused on the intricate spell he was weaving. Connected to the forest's magic as he was, Stiles wasn't sure there would be much he couldn't do.
And this? This was easier than he ever could have imagined.
Gerard took a deep breath without coughing, and a moment later a gunshot rang out loudly, followed by the much quieter dinging that could be nothing but the bullet hitting the warehouse's cement flooring. Stiles didn't need to turn back to see what had happened, and he smiled as cruelly as he could when the man's face morphed into a look of shock.
"Locking us in with mountain ash only works on wolves, old man," Stiles told him plainly. He grinned wider, his lips drawing back in a snarl as his eyes flared with his magic. "I'm not a wolf."
Gerard wasn't paying attention to him but was staring behind Stiles where three hunters had gathered while Gerard was "distracting" them. A handful of gunshots rung out following Stiles' announcement. They all hit the line of mountain ash and fell to the ground, the ding of metal echoing in the silence that followed.
Stiles focused on the barrier he was holding and pushed more power at it, pleased when Gerard's eyes widened even further and his bonds lit up with shock. He was sure the hunters in the hall were still firing their guns, but the shots were nothing but a muted banging as if the noise was travelling through water and couldn't quite reach them.
Stiles flicked his wrist at his side and then silence rang out as their bodies dropped to the floor.
"It's amazing what a spark can do with a little belief, isn't it?" Stiles asked, his fingers tightening their hold on Deucalion's forearm, pulling comfort from the warmth of the man's skin and the warm presence of him that sat inside his chest. "Peter, take Cora and meet the others, okay?"
Neither of them questioned him, and for that Stiles was more grateful than he'd ever be able to express. Having people who trusted him, a pack who trusted him, meant so much. It was something he didn't think he would ever have before Peter made a place for himself in his life. Deucalion and his pack taking to Stiles as they had was unimaginable , and Stiles had to ignore the urge to pinch himself when Peter and Cora didn't even hesitate to walk through the barrier Stiles was still holding up.
He took a deep breath, the realization that this was it settling heavy over his shoulders.
"I'm going to kill you," Stiles stated. He wondered, not for the first time, if he should feel a type of way about it. "Your reign is going to end and I want you to know, in this moment, that there is nothing you can do to stop it."
"My reign will never end!"
"Oh really? Who's going to keep it going? The dozens of hunters my pack has just killed? Your son, who wants nothing to do with you?" Stiles asked, his fingers digging into Deucalion's skin in an effort to control his growing rage. He couldn't lose control, not until the spell had been spun.
"There will always be those willing to do what's right to keep the world pure," Gerard snapped, another coughing fit wracking through his chest and causing him to double over.
"And we'll be there to stop them," Stiles said quietly, his eyes flaring with light that seeped from his skin and illuminated the room brightly.
Beside him, Deucalion growled lowly, standing tall as his Alpha. In that moment Stiles knew Deucalion would do anything Stiles needed of him. It made him feel powerful. The forest's magic was breathing into him, filling him with more power than he knew what to do with. He focused on the way it made him feel like he could do anything as he focused on Gerard.
Anger rose within his chest, both his own and that of the forest's and his pack's, all echoed together as he thought of the pain this one man had brought to the world. In the end, it was an easy decision. Killing Gerard was like getting rid of a disease, and Stiles' eyes flared with magic as his spark expanded within his chest, a soft pink interspersed with a pretty green of borrowed magic from the forest.
A smile crossed Stiles' lips as he took a deep breath, and when he let it out Gerard's body went up in flames. He screamed, once, twice, and then there was nothing but ash and char and the smell of burning flesh. Stiles didn't stop what he was doing. He grabbed reality, folding the threads of life around his spark and reshaping what was there. It brought him outside of his body and for the briefest of moments, Stiles was aware of everything, just like he'd been the time he connected with the essence of the forest only hours before but so much more.
"I'm going to need you to catch me," Stiles said, turning towards his Alpha and smiling easily. The expression felt more natural than it had in weeks, and Deucalion's eyes burned red as they stared down at him.
"Stiles what are you—" Deucalion asked, but Stiles heard nothing else as the world went black around him.
Stiles woke up with a pounding headache and the taste of death in his mouth. He groaned even as he rolled into the heat behind him, snuggling into his Alpha's chest as he willed the world to fade back away into nothing but pleasant dreams. He was glad he was in an actual bed when he shifted and his entire body protested in extreme pain.
"Oh my god I'm dying," Stiles groaned, pouting against Deucalion's chest when all the Alpha did was snort at him. Rude.
"You are not dying," Deucalion told him, much too loudly for the force of Stiles' headache. He didn't complain though, mostly because of how nice it felt to be all wrapped up in the Alpha's arms.
"It feels like I am," Stiles protested with a pout, cuddling even closer and going through his pack bonds on instinct. Checking in with everyone was something Stiles had done every morning for the last few days, and it made him feel settled knowing that everyone was okay.
Just like every other morning he'd done it—and Stiles assumed it was morning seeing as the sun was shining in through the sliver of space his blinds were open—everyone was okay, but Deucalion felt especially worried. Stiles knew why, or at least could guess what the older man was thinking about, but Stiles wasn't ready to talk about it. Hell, he didn't think he'd ever be ready to talk about it. It was bad enough that his dad—and probably Peter—had already known everything that Gerard had done to him, but now Deucalion and Cora did too.
Stiles wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that, but it definitely wasn't a good feeling. He reached out, itching to touch despite how close they were already lying, and frowned when his fingers brushed over the silky material of Deucalion's shirt. Stiles wiggled, wanting the comfort that would come from their bare skin pressing together, only to realize he was wearing pants.
"Wait, why am I still wearing jeans?" Stiles asked, finally pulling back so he could look up at Deucalion with a disgusted pout.
Deucalion snorted, his eyes bleeding red. They weren't shining brightly so Stiles was sure he was just pushing enough power into them so he could see. It made Stiles want to duck his head and hide but he held the man's gaze with as much confidence as he could muster.
"I didn't want to undress you while you were unconscious," Deucalion told him, but there was something off to his voice, a hesitancy that Stiles had only heard a handful of times before.
"Deuc," Stiles said with a sigh. This was what he was worried about. The last thing Stiles wanted was for the pack to treat him differently. Hell, it was probably what had kept Stiles from actually talking about it, even after that first night they slept together when Stiles had freaked out in the morning. "We've slept together in our underwear. We've changed in front of one another. I don't—you could have taken my pants off."
"Darling," Deucalion said, his voice quiet and raw. His eyes shone so brightly Stiles had to squint to look back at him. Stiles knew what he was saying, knew what the worry along their bond meant, but Stiles didn't care. Instead of answering right away, Stiles curled back tightly against the man's chest, making a pleased noise when Deucalion held him tighter in turn. He wasn't sure how to say what he needed to, so he took his time to parse out his thoughts.
"Gerard raped me," Stiles said simply. There was nothing else to say, not when that's exactly what had happened. Stiles took a deep breath and pulled in the heavy scent of his Alpha, letting his warmth and his scent keep him calm. "He kidnapped me, and tortured me, and then he raped me. And it sucked. It really, really sucked. And yeah, I might be all kinds of fucked up that I haven't even realized yet, but you didn't assault me. You didn't hurt me. You've never hurt me. And I don't...you can't treat me any differently, okay? We agreed that we were both going to try for something here, and I know you're attracted to me. I don't want anything to change, just because you now know that something awful happened before I even knew you."
Deucalion didn't say anything, but the hold he had on Stiles tightened until it was uncomfortable. He said nothing, letting the Alpha hug them together until even Stiles wasn't sure where he began and Deucalion ended. The older man's bond was...a lot for Stiles to parse through, so he didn't bother. Stiles would give him time to work through what he was feeling just like the man had done for him, and in the meantime he snuggled closer, tangling their legs together and rubbing little circles into Deucalion's hip bone with his thumb, pressing against bare skin as they laid together.
"It's okay," Stiles said quietly, needing to do something about the painhurthorror that was bleeding through everything else. "Deuc, it's okay."
" No it isn't," the man growled. Fangs pricked Stiles' forehead before the man took a deep breath.
"No, it isn't," he agreed, tilting his head up so his lips brushed over Deucalion's jaw. "But it happened, and there really isn't anything that we can do to change that now. We just have to move on."
"He hurt you," Deucalion said through with a growl, and Stiles snorted before he countered with, "And I burned him alive."
Deucalion snorted, and the arms loosened a fraction. Stiles laid there quietly, trying to really process that after so much pain, Gerard really was gone. He was dead , and he wasn't going to hurt anyone else. No other lives would be ruined or lost because of him and his ideals, and despite the situation, it made a smile curl Stiles' lips up.
"We should go see the others," Stiles mumbled, his words distorted as Deucalion still had him pressed together with Stiles' face smushed into his neck. A thought struck, and Stiles pulled back so he could look into Deucalion's eyes to ask, "How's my dad? He knows I'm okay, right?"
"Yes, darling," Deucalion soothed, running a hand down Stiles' back. "Peter explained that you'd just overextendeded yourself and that you'd need to sleep."
"And everyone else? They're all okay too?"
"Yes darling, the pack is fine," Deucalion assured. Stiles pulled back enough that he could get a kiss, and he hummed happily when their lips slid together. The feeling was still new enough to be nerve-wracking, but Stiles could barely feel anything other than safe in the circle of his Alpha's arms.
The pack was scattered around the living room when the two of them finally got downstairs. Stiles had insisted on changing into something more comfortable than day-old jeans covered in dirt and soot. He had detoured to the laundry room to put his sheets through the wash and then dragged Deucalion to the living room.
The twins and Cora were curled up together on the love seat—or more accurately Cora and Aiden were curled around Ethan in a tangle of limbs that Stiles was definitely not ready to question or examine. Dad was in the armchair with Peter sitting on the floor between his legs, reclined back against his knees. Ennis was on the couch alone, seeing as Kali was leaning against the far wall as usual.
Peter stood smoothly when Stiles stepped into the room, his dad rising behind him and stepping forward. "Hey kiddo," dad said roughly. Stiles walked straight into his arms and let his dad wrap him up in a hug that felt like home. A moment later, Peter wrapped around the side of them and cradled them both close, and Stiles had to squeeze his eyes shut against the flood of tears. "Don't scare me like that again, alright?"
"I'll try not to," Stiles said with a wet laugh, squeezing his dad tightly until it felt like he could step away without falling apart.
"So, blowing up a warehouse while inside it. That's a new trick," Peter drawled, his hand running up and down Stiles' back, fingertips just catching the skin of his nape in a subtle mark of scent.
"Wait, that's what happened?" Stiles asked with a frown, mentally replaying the last few things he remembered before passing out. "I only meant to set it on fire."
"You levelled the entire building and Deuc carried you out completely unscathed," Ennis told him, and the grin was evident in his voice. When Stiles looked over, the man was beaming at him and holding out his fist. Stiles snorted, but moved so he could bump them together as his dad and Peter moved back to the chair. "Hey little man," Ennis said, snagging his wrist and tugging him down. Stiles laughed as he fell onto the couch and into the man's side, letting the bigger man wrap him in a half hug as Deucalion settled neatly beside him.
"Hey, En," Stiles said into his shoulder, taking a moment to hug him back before he wiggled around and settled against his Alpha's side with a happy little noise.
"So, now that Gerard is taken care of, what's the plan?" His dad asked the room. Stiles looked over in time to see him pet a hand through Peter's hair, the older wolf closing his eyes contentedly. A surge of warmth went through him at the sight, and he pushed the feeling of love towards both of them. Peter's smile widened, and Dad's eyes jumped to him in shock before his entire face softened.
"Well, I should probably go to school Monday," Stiles told him with a pout that was half-serious.
"I think your father is wondering how much longer we'll be taking over his home," Deucalion said, pulling Stiles closer. He snorted, but he still curled closer to his Alpha's chest.
"Yes. Not that I mind having you all here. You've done more than enough to show me how much you care about my son in the last week. I may not get 'pack' like the rest of you do, but Stiles 'n I don't have much family left. As far as I'm concerned, that's what you all are now," John told the room. Stiles could hear the heaviness in his voice, and he wondered if his dad was thinking the same things he was: how nice it was to have the house filled again, how comfortable spending time as a group was, how they all fit together so easily. "But, this house wasn't made for nine people."
"While we are grateful for the generosity you've shown us, you are right. We should find a more permanent residence. We have found a few apartment buildings that I have been considering, but we haven't had time to come to a decision yet." Deucalion was quiet for a beat before he added, "However, there is a ceremony that should be performed if we plan to stay here indefinitely."
"Oh yeah, about the land, right?" Stiles asked, enjoying the way Deucalion was rubbing small circles into his upper arm with his thumb.
"That's right, darling. It isn't a complicated spell, but it is one I would deem necessary," Deucalion explained, snagging the hand that was settled on his stomach with his free hand and tangling their fingers together. "You would be transferring ownership of the land from Derek Hale to myself and promising it protection under my hand. The territory would be ours."
"What would that mean for Derek and his pack? They're all teenagers!" John said, his voice stern.
"That was a decision Derek made knowin' full well what could happen," Ennis muttered, but he quieted when Peter spoke up to add, "My nephew is...less than knowledgeable when it comes to pack policies. He was never meant to be an Alpha and my sister never trained him as such. However, he should have felt that this territory was not his. If he has not listened to his wolf, there is nothing we can do for him. He bit uninformed minors, yes, but they all agreed."
"Why is it sounding like we're kicking them out of Beacon Hills?" Stiles asked, sitting forward as he looked around the room. "I mean, so far they haven't bothered us. It's been like a week and they haven't reached out to us in any way. I'm not saying we should invite them to a full moon powwow or anything, but I don't see why they can't just...stay."
"It is different for wolves, darling. Our territory is just that, ours. Sharing that with another pack is not a natural instinct. Pack's have done it in the past, yes, but it is not common."
"What part of this pack is common or natural?" Stiles asked, scrunching up his nose. "There's no reason to make them leave. We can talk to Derek and explain that the land is ours, if it'll make your furry little selves feel better, but we can't just force them to leave their homes! Trust me, I don't like any of them, not after everything that happened, but they have families. We can't just send them away because your wolfy instincts want you to pee all over the preserve."
"C'mon, it might be kind of fun," Aiden said, his smile stretching into something nearly feral. "I'd love to see them around school and find out just how badly we can piss them off."
"So you guys are really gonna start at BH?"
"Don't see why not," Cora said with a shrug. Her eyes cut across the room to Peter, and Stiles watched as something passed between them unsaid. "I need to talk to Derek. I...I don't know what I'm going to say, but he should know that I'm alive."
"I think that would be a good idea," Stiles offered, giving her a small smile. "I'd be more than happy to come with you, if you want. It's actually probably part of my job, anyway."
"There is no rush," Peter added. "We can tell him whenever you're ready, sweetheart."
Cora smiled, but conversation lulled after that. Stiles tried not to worry about what seeing the Hale pack would be like after the last week. It certainly hadn't escaped Stiles' notice that no one had contacted him in all that time, even though they all knew that the Alpha pack was with him. He tried not to let it bother him, but it was just another reminder that he meant nothing to the people he'd once considered pack.
With the warmth in his chest, it was easy to push those thoughts away. His new pack meant so much to him. Yes, they had only been together for a week, but the bonds in Stiles' chest were stronger than anything he ever could have imagined having. This pack, a pack that cared for him and wanted him, was a world of difference from the group of teenagers who cast him aside as if he were nothing but garbage.
His Alpha made a quiet noise that Stiles felt more than heard, no doubt picking up on his rather sombre mood, and Stiles sunk back into Deucalion's chest. He pulled his legs up to his chest and tucked his feet under Deucalion's thighs, getting ready for a long cuddle session while Ennis turned the TV on, wrapping an arm snugly around Deucalion's stomach.
Stiles pressed his smile into the warm skin of Deucalion's chest, focused on the warm glow his bonds made inside his chest, and wondered if he would ever be happier than he was in this moment.
Chapter End Notes
Warning: Mention of past rape.
And the end. Two years later, and we're finally done. Thank you so much to everyone who's stuck around since the beginning and everyone who's joined in along the ride. Every single comment and kudo means the world to me. Subscribe to the series, because this is the first of a trilogy. I don't want to spoil anything for the next fic, but it'll be dealing with Kali and we'll finally see the Hale pack again. I hope to see you all there, whenever I get it out 3
Together, We Belong Chapter One
Chapter Summary
This is a sneak peek of the FIRST CHAPTER of Together, We Belong, the long-awaited sequel to this work!
Chapter Notes
READ THE FULL CHAPTER HERE or click "Next Work" to read the next part of the Belonging series!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Stiles stretched his back as he came to, slowly rising towards consciousness. He grumbled under his breath even as he nuzzled forward, running his nose down the line of Deucalion's neck. Sleep was still close. Close enough that all Stiles wanted to do was let it pull him back under. He knew he couldn't, and he made a grumpy noise, even as he cuddled closer to the supernatural warmth his mate was letting off.
Their legs were so tangled together Stiles could barely get his cold feet pressed against Deucalion's warm, warm calves, but he let out a sleepy breath of accomplishment when he managed. Deucalion grumbled out a rolling growl that pulled a snicker from Stiles' throat as he rose even further into wakefulness.
"Mornin'," Stiles slurred into Deucalion's neck, leaving wet, trailing kisses from his shoulder up to his hairline.
Deucalion growled again, though the sound wasn't nearly as teasing as before. Stiles' heart kicked up in his chest, moving to match Deucalion's own quick patter. "A very good morning to you, darling," Deucalion rasped, his voice deliciously deep and rumbly with sleep in a way that ran Stiles' blood warm.
Stiles made a soft noise from somewhere deep in his throat as he hugged Deucalion closer. His hand slid up Deucalion's stomach, resting against the centre of his chest. The short hair on Deucalion's chest tickled Stiles' palm as he flattened his fingers across the man's pec. "D-Did you sleep alright?"
"I slept wonderfully in your arms, sweetheart," Deucalion told him quietly, and then he was pulling away, moving enough to turn over and draw Stiles close. Stiles' breath stuttered in his chest as their hips met, and a flash of shame curled around his belly when he realized Deucalion was hard but he wasn't.
But Deucalion didn't do anything further than pull Stiles close and twine their legs together. His hand was warm and heavy against Stiles' bare hip, curling around him possessively in a way that sent a shiver racing down Stiles' spine. He tried to focus on the sentiment of Deucalion's words and not what his body wasn't doing.
"And you?"
"I slept really good too," Stiles whispered, his voice quiet and weak but still audible in the still room. He took a deep breath and pushed aside his stupid guilt, and instead focused on the soft smile that curled around Deucalion's lips. "I really like being the big spoon."
Deucalion's smile went wider, and Stiles couldn't stop himself from leaning in to steal a slow, warm kiss. He sucked in a breath through his nose, letting the woodsy scent of his mate wrap around him. Kissing was still new and Stiles felt nervous as he caught Deucalion's top lip between both of his own. His heart tripped against his chest as he gave it a little suck, and it only sped up even faster when Deucalion growled deeply.
Stiles kept kissing him softly. Their lips moved together in a way that flooded Stiles' belly with heat, but his body didn't react to the warm arousal swirling around his gut. He tried to focus on what he was feeling; Deucalion's lips were warm and soft again his own, his hand was smooth sliding up and down his spine, his legs so, so warm tangled together with Stiles'.
Stiles tried to tell himself that it didn't matter what his body doing, all that mattered was being close to his mate.
His mate, who pulled him even closer until there wasn't an inch of space between them. The hair of Deucalion's thighs tickled Stiles' legs as he pressed closer, and he let out a quiet groan when Deucalion licked into his mouth.
They kept trading wet kisses until Stiles forgot to breathe through his nose and had to pull back with a soft moan. He kept his eyes closed as he tried to catch his breath, certain he was going to see disappointment on Deucalion's face if he opened them.
"Darling," Deucalion said roughly, taking a long, deep breath and then pressing up to get his face in the curve of Stiles' throat, "you have no idea what your scent does to me."
"M-My scent?"
"Mhm," Deucalion growled, pressing wet kisses to Stiles' neck. "You smell like a roasting fire when you grow aroused. Your scent darkens, deepens, and I—"
Stiles sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers dug into the shifting muscles on Deucalion's back.
"I didn't—" Stiles cut himself off with a soft moan as Deucalion's teeth scraped against his neck. Deucalion hummed, peppering a few closed mouth kisses to his skin as Stiles arched his back. "I didn't know you could smell that."
Deucalion made a noise of agreement before he growled, "Fucking delicious."
Chapter End Notes
READ THE FULL CHAPTER HEREor click "Next Work" to read the next part of the Belonging series!
Afterword
End Notes
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