Stiles had no concept of time when he woke up. All he knew was that he felt…kind of good. He sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. The daylight was blinding. He couldn't really remember passing out. Though he thought that made sense. He blinked slowly, waiting for his eyes to adjust. It took another couple moments to realize the dancing shadows were coming from the mouth of the cave. Stiles looked there. Peter was silhouetted against it, pulling himself up to the rock and dropping back down. Stiles' mouth ran dry. He licked his lips, trying to fix it. They tasted salty. Still vaguely fruity. He thought back to the punch at the dance. God it'd been hours since he'd eaten. His stomach growled as it contracted painfully. Peter dropped in a crouch before turning. The sun glinted off his teeth.
"Feeling better?" he asked softly. Stiles' ears picked it up easily.
"I'm starving," he said.
"Give me five minutes." Stiles grimaced.
"Please don't tell me that you're going to hunt something down, kill it with your teeth, and try and feed it to me." Peter crossed back to him and Stiles averted his eyes to the rock. He was so naked.
"Traditionally I would eat and regurgitate it for you." Stiles gagged.
"Oh God." Peter chuckled.
"Sorry."
"Where's Jackson?" Stiles asked as the thought occurred to him. "He didn't…" Stiles' hands clenched. He was immediately averted to the idea.
"He's on his way back now. Quite proud of himself too." Relief swamped Stiles so profusely that for several moments he couldn't speak.
"God," he let out, head sagging to his chest. "That's just…really good news." Peter touched his shoulder, massaging gently.
"I'm glad pack mentality has taken hold so quickly."
"Pack mentality…" Stiles breathed, mostly to himself.
"You both stayed with me through the transition. Things are progressing well."
"Yeah, you look…" he wasn't blushing, hell, who was he kidding, "good." Peter smiled wordlessly.
"Hey," Jackson said, "you're awake." He smiled, bags hanging from one hand. Stiles couldn't help but smile too. Jackson stepped into the cave and handed the bigger bag to Peter. "I brought food," he murmured. Saliva flooded into Stiles' mouth. Peter stood again and stepped over Stiles, moving to the back of the cave. Jackson sat in the space he'd vacated, setting the bag of food between them.

By the time Peter had dressed Jackson and Stiles had devoured the food, littering the ground with scraps of paper.
"Holy grease buckets of joy," Stiles muttered, patting his stomach. "That tasted so much better than I ever thought it could." Jackson let out a loud belch, seemingly in agreement.
"Ready to see what you can do?" Peter questioned, tugging the hem of his shirt down over his toned stomach. Stiles looked to Jackson, who was smiling.
"Hell yeah," Jackson said. Stiles lifted one shoulder. Jackson jumped to his feet and offered a hand to Stiles. Working to shut his flapping jaw, Stiles took it and stood.
"You're going to love this," Jackson whispered conspiratorially.
"Love what?"
"You'll see," Jackson teased, smirking. Peter fell between them, one arm over each boy's shoulders.
"Enough talking," he said, "let's go." Stiles stumbled slightly, falling into Peter's warm side. His tongue curled around a gasp that he barely managed to hold in. His heart thundered in his ears and he tried to ignore it. Peter's lips curving up he couldn't ignore as easily. Stiles worked to shake off the feeling, gaining his feet again. When they reached the mouth of the cave Jackson took off, dirt spraying up from under his feet. "See if you can catch him," Peter said, tilting his head.
"Um, okay." Stiles was grateful for the reason to pull away from Peter.
"I'll be right behind you."

Stiles couldn't believe how fast he was running. Suddenly he could understand how Scott had become so great at lacrosse so suddenly. It literally felt like flying. Between each step he leapt over the earth. He let Jackson run in front of him. Jackson was pleased with himself and Stiles could feel it. Stiles didn't care. He wasn't trying to win. He felt good. Unexplainably good. Jackson thrummed in his veins. Peter did too. He was subtle, almost as if he fit with Stiles already. They ran in a chain, moving further and then closer with an unspoken rhythm. Stiles had never felt a part of something like this. He'd never felt complete like this. His cheeks hurt from smiling. He couldn't stop smiling. He put on a burst of speed, laughing. Jackson laughed ahead of him and while Peter remained quiet Stiles could feel a slight swell of pride. His smile widened. Peter and Jackson were his. He was theirs. Their own little family. He already had a family. With the thought he dug his feet into the earth, stopping so quickly his body was horizontal for a few horrifying moments. Peter was there before he'd righted himself. Jackson took a lap back around them before stopping as well.
"What's wrong?" he questioned, cheeks flushed, from running or joy Stiles couldn't tell.
"Um…I just…my dad's probably worried about me by now." Jackson didn't make a snappy comeback as Stiles was expecting. He looked to Peter.
"Of course," Peter said simply.
"I should c-call him or something," Stiles tried to find the words. How could he explain? He was all his dad had left. He couldn't just vanish for…how long had he been gone?
"We'll take you home. Jackson was distraught after what happened to Lydia. He was missing. You found him. Clear?"
"Where was I?" Jackson questioned. Stiles would have appreciated him jumping on board, if he wasn't swamped with guilt.
"They'll be so glad you're both back there won't be too many questions. If there are you stick together. Understand?" Jackson took Stiles by the shoulder and pulled him along. "I have a few things to take care of," Peter explained, staying where he was.
"You were already in town," Stiles objected; mind racing along, "my dad won't buy that anyways."
"Just relax Stilinski. I'm the master at bullshit and even if I wasn't, we'd figure it out." Stiles forced himself to take a deep breath, scrubbing both hands over his hair quickly.
"Right right," he said, "we'll figure it out." He edged out of Jackson's hold gently. "Let's run." Jackson kept pace with him, only slowing when he was in danger of running into his car.
"Maybe I found you," Jackson said, unlocking the doors. "Maybe you were upset over Lydia."
"I was in love with her most of my life," Stiles added, getting in.
"You were?" Stiles shifted uncomfortably in the seat.
"Yeah."
"Oh," Jackson said, not commenting any further.

His hands were shaking and they wouldn't stop. Thoughts raced along sickeningly. He thought of his father and the shame that he knew he should be feeling. He thought of betraying Scott and then he thought about Peter. No matter how hard Stiles tried he couldn't find remorse for it. Not now, when he was made new. He'd changed among the ashes and soot. Like a newborn phoenix, Peter had healed him. Somehow. Jackson didn't speak, probably because he knew he couldn't help with this. Resting his head in his hand, Stiles gave into his mind again. The ride through town was too slow and too fast, though Stiles wasn't sure how. He wiped his sweating palms on his legs, trembling fingertips catching on the fabric of his pants. He didn't know what he was going to say. Stiles was beginning to freak out actually. Jackson caught his arm just as he prepared to open the door.
"If it helps," he murmured, looking through the windshield, "I'm glad you did it." Stiles released a sigh unexpectedly.
"It helps," he said. Jackson released him before climbing out. Feeling much better than he'd thought possible, Stiles followed suit. The deputy at the desk relaxed visibly the moment Stiles came through the door. He pushed off the desk with both hands and walked a few feet before yelling,
"Sheriff!" Stiles' father walked out of his office after yanking open the door and Stiles could immediately tell he hadn't slept. The sheriff's hair was sticking up oddly, his tie gone, the top buttons of his shirt open to reveal the white t-shirt collar underneath, the hem was half exposed as if he'd given up in the process of pulling it out, he hadn't even shaved. Stiles' guilt increased monumentally and he felt Jackson's comforting presence at his back for another short moment before running forward and colliding with his father. Arms wrapped tight around him, holding him up, holding him together. He clutched at his father's back, hands scrambling over the tan linen. Shouldn't being a werewolf make him less awkward? Stiles shoved the thought away, sighing into his father's shoulder.
"Dad," he mumbled, embarrassed as his eyes tightened.
"Son," the sheriff returned, patting his shoulder. "Where were you?" he questioned after a few more moments.
"You're either going to laugh or strangle me," Stiles offered, not wanting to let go yet.
"Oh?"
"I got lost."

A/N: I love Stiles and his dad. Really didn't want their relationship to suffer. Big hugs for Sheriff Stilinski. Dude rocks.

Pretty sure this is going up to five parts. Did I tell you guys I was between three and five? I can't remember… *blushes*

Lastly. It's that time again. That's right, the time where I ask your opinion. Help me make decisions. Guide me. :3 Rating change and sexy times? Yes? No? I'm not actually guaranteeing either way…