John woke up half naked, cold, and alone on his chilled couch. He was disorientated for a moment, piecing things together from the previous night and sparing a sad glance over at his abandoned steak, still sitting on the coffee table. At least the TV was off. He fumbled around for his phone, shooting Stiles a grumpy Where are you? Come home. text. He hesitated a moment, then quickly added, Bring Hale.
He was startled by the speedy response.
Which Hale?
The sheriff groaned. Both. Peter has some explaining to do.
He sighed heavily, pushing up and off the couch, cleaning up his poor, unfinished steak, and Halloween candy wrappers. He was hungry, groggy, and a little disorientated. Not only had last night been incredibly confusing, but Hale had left before he'd woken up. It felt a little like college, one night stands with his partner leaving in the morning. No word, no note, no explanation. John might have been a little upset over it, but he was more confused than angry. Though his confusion just made him more upset. He shoved the steak into the microwave and started fiddling with the coffee maker. God knows he needed a cup today.
"That was my dad," Stiles said, looking up from his seat next to Derek, "He wants us over there to explain last night..."
"Go on then." Peter grumbled, sitting on the spiral steps, staring down at the laptop balancing on his knees, pretending to be immersed in reading.
Stiles sighed, sterning his expression, "All of us."
He kept his face buried, hoping maybe his pointed indifference would deter Stiles from poking at it any further. Peter didn't want to go back. He'd acted irrationally the previous night. Irrationally and irresponsibly. He wasn't anxious to face John again any time soon. Still coming to terms with his behavior himself, Peter couldn't imagine what the sheriff would be thinking.
It was Derek who spoke next, standing with a grunt, "You're going to have to face him eventually, Peter. He's the sheriff." He took a step closer, powerful in his resolve, "And he's your mate. You couldn't stay away even if you wanted to."
Peter's head rose, he huffed, keeping an elegant air about himself while trying to mask his irritation, "Don't tell me what I can't do."
"You want to be pack?"
Peter glared at him. A rhetorical, if not threatening, question. Of course he did. Peter had been trying to slip back into Derek's life, into his pack, for months now. He smirked, at least their time apart hadn't made them too different. "Blackmail is a good look on you, nephew."
Derek crossed his arms defiantly, "Your mate called you. You'd feel compelled to go even if I didn't tell you to."
"You don't know what I feel. It was a fluke, obviously. Stilinski and I don't even know each other that well. He can't be my mate."
Stiles jumped up from the couch, "Deaton said the chemical you got into doesn't force a mate on you. It just helps the potency of your feelings. The ones already there." Peter went to respond, but Stiles held up a hand, "Careful what you say next. That's still my dad."
In his standing, Stiles had slotted himself next to Derek, leaning ever so slightly into his space. Peter had always thought they made a handsome couple, Stiles was just as stubborn as Derek, but he was more outspoken. He complimented Derek well. It was charming. Sometimes. Right now it felt like he was being ganged up on by an immature couple high on love. His wolf felt a little restless, bordering on being boxed in.
"Besides," Stiles added, seeming to jump on the moment as Peter's instincts made themselves known, "your wolf recognized him as your mate. You can't really make excuses for that one."
"Because you know so much about mates." he bit, watching with light amusement as Derek's foot twitched a little, sweeping ever so slightly in front of Stiles. Good. Should always defend your mate.
Jesus... mates. Peter had been happily resigned, for a long time, to a mate-less life. He'd realized years ago he wasn't a nurturing kind of man. A happy pack with a mate and little pups running around wasn't in the cards for him. He was hard and guarded, a bit conniving, he admitted and recognized. Happy and warm weren't feelings he was used to. When he'd knocked over that jar in Deaton's lab, spilling the soft, yellow liquid all down his face, he'd been overwhelmed with this sudden urge. His chest ached for contact, for that scent in his nostrils. He'd had previous interactions with Sheriff Stilinski. He was clever, occasionally humorous, he'd enjoyed their few conversations... but not to a point where he wanted to mate with him.
Peter had no reason to believe this was really what having a mate felt like.
He just felt nauseous and uneasy. Last night had been fuzzy, but it had felt good. He'd wanted more, so much more. Peter had only gotten a tiny taste. He'd felt the warm flesh beneath him, swallowed up the small whimpers John had been reluctant to let out, licked the sweet, burley scent right off his neck. Peter had wanted to storm in, toss him right down onto that sofa and just-
Derek coughed.
Stiles gave Derek a weird look, then Peter, and back to Derek, horrifying realization dawning on his face when he noticed Derek's visible discomfort. "Eww. Gross. That's- Can you not fantasize about my dad while I'm right here please?"
Peter growled, "I assure you, it wasn't intentional." his words sharp.
"Can you keep a lid on that?"
He huffed, "I'm not going."
Derek's eyes flashed a brilliant red, his brow becoming deeper in a challenging gesture. Peter was about to jump right into a rebuttal, getting ready to let his fangs out when Stiles stepped in. "Peter." he offered, soft and cautious, "Please. My dad is probably really confused."
Peter wasn't soft, but the little cautious look Stiles bore was reminiscent to John's right before they'd kissed. The image flashed in his mind. John had given him permission in the end, he'd kissed Peter first. Maybe... Maybe it would be alright. He let his temper rumble in his chest, a low growl purring under his breath. But he kept his teeth in. "Fine."
Stiles smiled at him, "Thank you."
Peter briefly wondered if John would smile like that too... then kicked himself for being a sap.
John was stationed in the kitchen when he heard the familiar rattle of his son's jeep, and the smooth purr of the car he assumed belonged to the Hales. He threw back the rest of his coffee, standing to clear his steak plate and coffee mug before Stiles came in. Maybe he could pour himself a glass of orange juice in time if he was lucky.
Unfortunately he didn't even have time to finish washing his plate. "Hey dad." Stiles awkwardly greeted, stomping in and taking a seat at the counter, the Hales filing in shortly after, "What'd you have for breakfast? Is there anything left?"
John gave his son a half smile, "I had leftovers."
"What? Steak and candy?" Stiles huffed, frowning.
"Just the steak."
Derek took a seat next to Stiles, but John was wearily eyeing Peter, who stayed standing off to the side, like he wanted to hide. Good. He should. Stiles shook his head, "At least tell me you had a vegetable?"
"Why would you have a vegetable for breakfast?" Peter chimed in, a lopsided smirk jumping on his face.
John raised a hand in his direction, "Thank you."
"Are you going to be imposing bad habits on my dad? Because I won't sanctify anything if that's the case."
Peter rolled his eyes, "Because I require your blessing."
Not really sure how he should feel about the comfortable conversation passing between his son and the man who'd fucked and ducked, John cast his glance Derek's way. At least Derek seemed to be thinking the same thing, offering him an uncharacteristically apologetic shrug before nudging Stiles' elbow. When Stiles and Peter turned back, John didn't know if it was a change for the better. Now they were silent, and the room was awkward.
"So..." he tried.
"So..." Stiles echoed.
John felt the need to busy his hands, "Who wants to explain last night to me?" he asked, turning to the fridge, deciding to pour that glass of orange juice after all.
Peter could smell John's nervous anxiety as Stiles began to explain carefully. He decided he didn't like the way it curdled the succulent natural scent the man had. Brown, like a whiskey, with faint mists of dark roast coffee and baked goods. He smelled homely, only slightly aged, like the fining of a wine or the best kind of brandy. It was intoxicating, and he wanted to gulp in lungfuls of it. Had John always smelled this good? Why hadn't he noticed before?
Sure, the sheriff had always smelled nice before... but this, this was different. This was a delirious scent. One he needed, wanted to devour, Peter wanted to lap it up and off his skin, to taste it on his tongue and swallow. It made him hungry, horny, and happy all at once.
He didn't realize he'd moved until John was jolting away from him. "Whoa, okay-" he yelped, "that needs to stop."
"Peter." Derek warned, and Peter did his best to move away, but he couldn't. He settled for staying planted where he was instead of moving forward.
"And that's..." Stilinski trailed off, looking back and forth between Peter and his son, "that's a werewolf thing?"
"Yeah." Stiles offered, gesturing helplessly, "He can't really help it."
The sheriff nodded shakily, looking Peter up and down cautiously, "And so... what does he have to do? Like... smell me?"
Derek raised an eyebrow, nodding slowly "It would help him calm down."
Nodding was all he could really do. John took a small step forward and Peter nearly jumped him. He couldn't get himself under control. Peter had a harder time breathing when the sheriff nodded again, "Yeah, yeah okay."
Then Peter was there, an arm looped around his waist, his nose buried in John's neck, existing in his amazingly sweet, heavy scent. He felt calmer, nuzzling slightly. He could think clearer, "Thank you." he mumbled, his whole body fuzzy with lovely contentment.
"You're welcome."
Stiles was smiling awkwardly, and upon further inspection, even Derek's lip had twitched upward a small nitch.
"So how does this work?" John asked, peeking around Hale, "Do we... does he have to keep doing this a lot?"
Peter exhaled a long, relaxing breath, taking a moment just to nuzzle in a little further, "I'm not sure." he wedged his nose under John's earlobe, admiring how the scent was just a fraction stronger there, carding the knowledge away for later, "I've had a couple little outbursts where I can't control it, but other than that, I don't know what this needs."
"Contact." Derek supplies. "Spending some time together."
"I can't exactly jump up and leave whenever he feels cuddly." John huffed.
Peter thought John might have leaned into him, just a fraction, but it was small, barely even there. He might have just imagined it. Peter decided to do it for him. Their chests touching, one hand on his hip, another grazing along the sheriff's fingers, silently questioning. His wolf wanted to yip happily when Stilinski turned his hand, lacing their fingers together.
"We can figure out time tables or something," Stiles offered, "I could draw up a schedule around your work hours? Or something..." Stiles started shifting in his seat, "Hey so... while we're here- in this conversation I mean, dad, I uh, should probably tell you something else."
"Oh dear god." John groaned. "At least tell me it's not a bigger shock than this. Are sirens and unicorns real too?"
Peter chortled against John's neck, smirking.
"It's nothing bad." Stiles replied, giving Derek a quick look. "It's just... well, see, Derek is a werewolf too and well... we're also..."
Derek huffed, rolling his eyes before taking matters into his own hands. "Stiles is my mate."
John frowned, blinking silently for a moment. "Oh." he said.
Peter nudged him again, trying to express encouragement. John would have thought it was endearing if the situation wasn't so entirely crazy. Werewolves. His son was mates with a werewolf. John dipped his eyes down to Peter's jacket, almost tucked under him with how close they were. He was mates with a werewolf too apparently. John clicked his tongue. He'd thought Stiles was somehow using time travel before, he supposed this was less of a stretch than that. "Well, how come you're not stuck together like this?" he buffed, jutting his chin towards them.
"Peter got into a chemical that just kinda... accelerated things. It effects him in a weird way. You know..." he flicked his wrist, smirking like he was about to tell a joke, "sex drug?"
Memories came back, flooding Peter's mind with images of John, naked beneath him. The way he moved, the way his scent had thickened, making the whole room swell with that luscious smell. Arousal smelled good on John. He wanted to smell it again. He wanted to bury himself in John, to take him, claim him, because he was Peter's.
Peter shook his head and took a quick step backward, turning his face to the side and sucking in the air that was less thick with John's scent. The room was watching him, so he coughed, burying his nose in the cook of his arm and taking another step back, unlacing his fingers with John's and hating it... but he wasn't in his right mind. "I'm sorry..." he apologized, sending Derek a quick, desperate look, "I can't think-"
"Is he okay?" John asked.
The genuine concern in his voice made Peter whimper. His wolf was desperate to go back, angry at Peter for pulling them away from their mate. The mate they should be claiming- should be hauling up onto the counter and holding him down, fucking into that strong body, proving they were superior, proving they were the Alpha. His mate should be submitting to him! "Derek." he barked, "Please hold me back."
Derek shot up from his seat faster than John could track, gripping Peter's shoulders and dragging him backward, then planting himself firmly.
"What's going on?" Stiles questioned, rising from his stool as well.
Peter didn't feel in control of himself right then, a carnal need to claim and possess coursing through his veins, controlling his limbs for him. He tried to take a step forward, suddenly thankful Derek was there to hold him in place. His will was strong, but his wolf was insistent. And slightly malicious. The thoughts in his mind didn't seem safe, didn't seem like what you would really want to feel for a mate. His wolf wanted to own and control that scent, wanted to keep him close forever, locked up so nobody else could get to him. His wolf didn't want to be soft. It worked with his nature. John needed to be his. But that... that wasn't what it should feel like. "My wolf." he bit, realizing he was in over his head. "I can't.."
Peter didn't feel like he deserved a mate. Especially if he couldn't bring himself to be civil enough to treat one right... Christ, every inch of him tingled with the need to do-as Stiles would so elegantly put it- "creepy-uncle things". If he couldn't keep himself under control for an hour in the Sheriff's kitchen, in front of his nephew and John's son, how was he supposed to keep himself contained any other time? It was hard to fight the wolf. Uneasy, Peter looked up at John, hoping to apologize for his unexpected outburst, and all his forceful thoughts came to a screeching halt.
John looked scared.
Peter snarled, angry at himself, at the wolf, and the wolf angry at him. He was fighting with himself over this stupid mate business, over a mate he'd startled into silence. He growled and snapped his jaws. Maybe it was the rush of emotion, the small hope of having a mate being stripped away from him that left Peter feeling so crushed, but the dread devoured him. He felt Derek's hand clench over his shoulder in warning and tried to focus on that feeling. He took deep breaths, craning his neck to the side so that he was inhaling a more potent rush of Derek's scent than John's. He huffed, muttering low enough that the humans in the room couldn't hear him, "I told you I shouldn't have come."
"I don't think Peter has full control over his actions right now." Derek said, lifting his head towards the Stilinskis. "We should probably get him back..."
"Do I need to do something?" John offered, taking a hesitant step forward.
Peter jolted, his shoulders tightening where they strained against Derek's hold. "No." he bit, shaking his head clear and forcing a smile, trying to look thankful and not worry John any more than he already had, "Probably be best if you didn't come any closer right now."
"What's wrong?"
Peter wanted to jump out of Derek's reach, rush forward and tackle John right onto the floor. This sudden need nearly crippled him with lust. He let out a shaky sigh and tried to look unaffected by John's kindness, "I'm not sure I can stop myself if I stick around here much longer." he admitted, "My wolf wants to throw you over that counter and-"
"Peter." Stiles interrupted, looking absolutely scandalized.
John stilled, nodding obediently before scooting back towards his son. Peter would have felt proud of his mate for obeying him, but he was busy trying to perish those kinds of thoughts. It didn't help that John's scent had mingled with a hint of arousal that wasn't there before. The idea had turned him on. He focused on calming breaths, working his hardest to keep his attention on Derek's scent instead. "We may need the good doctor's help after all..."
"Deaton?" John asked, raising looks from both Stiles and Derek. John huffed, "So the vet is a werewolf too? Or does he just take care of the puppies?"
"Ha!" Stiles blurted, chiming in, "I told you it was funny."
"We'll get Peter to Deaton, figure out what's happening, and then get back to you." Derek nodded towards the sheriff, offering a hopeful expression.
John wasn't really relieved by it, but he appreciated the effort.
