Stiles coughed in response to the words. His mouth was not suddenly, mysteriously dry.
"I'm sorry, what? Leashes?"
"I don't think I like the sound of that," Jackson said stiffly.
"I know I don't like the sound of that," Stiles corrected, latching onto Jackson for support.
"If I call them collars does it make it any better?" Peter questioned, examining a fingernail, expression bored.
"Let's go with no." Stiles stood and crossed his arms. Why he felt like he should be standing if everyone else was he wasn't sure.
"And if I tell you it will take away the mating frenzy?"
"Then I say where are we getting these leashes," Jackson replied after a short moment. Stiles sighed softly. Just like that he'd lost his ally.
"I know someone in Bridgeport. If we leave now we can be back by tonight."
"It's not even morning," Stiles objected.
"I'm betting the Porsche can get us there even faster." Peter smiled slightly.
"Let's find out." He turned to Stiles. "Get dressed, let's go."
"Bet I can be back before he's ready," Jackson said, smiling.
"I'll race you," Peter said, launching himself over the bed and out the window easily. Jackson followed and Stiles was left alone, feeling thoroughly displaced. Since when were Jackson and Peter getting along like butter on toast? And where did that leave him? He wasn't quite able to stop pouting as he dressed. His father's alarm went off down the hall and Stiles sighed. His dad was going in early again. At least he wouldn't notice him not being around. Maybe the school had given up and wouldn't call him. He could hope. He was stepping into his shoes when Jackson leapt through the window. Peter followed after another moment. Stiles' chest tightened uncomfortably. Jackson let out a quiet laugh.
"Still slower than me Stilinski."
"We going or not?"
"Touchy touchy…" Jackson said. Peter looked concerned and it only upset Stiles further. What did he care? He obviously had other-Jackson-things on his mind. And why did Stiles care anyway? He'd never been the best at anything and he sure as hell wasn't going to start now.
"Stiles is right," Peter offered, "we should go." Stiles echoed him spitefully under his breath. Peter arched an eyebrow and Jackson glanced back and forth between them.
"So we should go. We should go right? We should go," Jackson muttered, shifting from foot to foot. "We parked down the street," he continued. "Let's go." Stiles forced himself to relax. No use upsetting Jackson. It wasn't his fault he was so pretty. The thought spread another sour expression on his face.
"Yeah fine," he said, "let's go."

"I'll drive," Peter said. Jackson offered the keys without a word's protest and Stiles yanked open the door and dove into the miniscule backseat. Last thing he needed was to be sitting next to Peter for north of three hours. He grimaced as he realized that put Jackson next to Peter. He thought maybe they both preferred it that way anyways. Fine then. He didn't have a problem with it either. Gritting his teeth and running his tongue over the backs of them in an irritated motion, Stiles folded himself into the painful excuse of a seat. Peter and Jackson Climbed in within seconds of each other and Stiles' knees ended up sandwiched between their elbows. Fantastic he thought yet again. Peter's eyes lingered on his and Stiles let out a growl unintentionally. This was already going so well. Jackson fiddled with the radio as soon as Peter started the car and instrumental music filled the car at a low volume. If he wasn't as jealous and uncomfortable as he was Stiles might have been grateful.
"Interesting choice," Peter commented softly.
"It ah-" he paused awkwardly, "it's good after a run," Jackson finally mumbled.
"Hm." The atmosphere in the car only got worse as they made their way out of town. Stiles was incredibly aware that this was the time he would usually crack a joke or say something self depreciating – such were the sacrifices he made. Today, right now…he wasn't in the mood. Maybe it was worse because it was his pack. Maybe it was better because he didn't feel the need to do it. He didn't care either way. His eyes drifted to the rearview mirror each time he wasn't watching them. He caught Peter's eyes nearly every time. Stiles pretended it didn't bother him. Admittedly, he did a poor job of it. As his temper kicked up further he withdrew more into himself, remaining silent. It was actually very easy to tell when Stiles was upset. When he had nothing to say, or said nothing anyways, it was a bad sign. Peter couldn't be expected to know him that well, Stiles gritted his teeth at the thought, but he could feel it. Stiles knew he could feel it because Peter was more powerful than him, laughably so, and even Stiles could feel the frustration seeping off both of his pack mates. There was a tiny urge to try and fix it and Stiles quelled it before crushing it mercilessly. He had a right to be angry. He paused; tongue freezing between his slightly parted teeth. Didn't he? A frown crept onto his face muscle by minute muscle. The revelation was much quicker. He had no claim on Peter. No right to him. What was he going to say? 'I saved your life now stay the hell away from him?' He tucked his tongue carefully back behind his teeth, jaw clenching. No he had no right to be angry. Stiles sighed quietly and looked to his hands tangled together on his lap. He should focus on why he wanted any such claim but his mind was too distracted. He was, simply put, too depressed.

"Wait here," Peter instructed, finally pulling up outside a church. He cut the engine and got out, leaving Jackson and Stiles alone.
"Really?" Jackson questioned, "A church?"
"You're surprised?" Stiles deadpanned.
"So you're talking to me again?" Jackson questioned, turning towards him. There was no accusation in the question and his expression was void of any anger. Stiles sighed quietly.
"I'm sorry Jackson. I just…" It wasn't' that he felt he couldn't confide in Jackson, he knew he could, Stiles was just unsure about how to handle the situation. He didn't want to say it out loud yet. Maybe he wasn't ready or some bullshit like that. "Things are just weird right now," he settled on.
"Yeah I know," Jackson said, smiling as if he'd shared a secret. "Especially between you and Peter. You guys are like the werewolf Days of Our-" he cut off suddenly, lips quirking in thought. Jackson's expression cleared after a few short moments. "Oh," he let out. "Oh."
"What?" Stiles demanded, even though he was reasonably sure he didn't want to know.
"There's nothing," Jackson said around a wide smile, "there's nothing going on between Peter and I." He gestured vaguely to the church. "He's like a father to me. And you're a freaking dork when you're jealous by the way."

Stiles didn't even mind the ribbing. His mouth was split on a grin.
"When'd you get so clever?" he muttered, still smiling.
"I've always been this clever thanks." Stiles gave Jackson a playful shove and Jackson chuckled before wrapping Stiles in a headlock and digging his knuckles into Stiles' scalp.
"Hey ouch!" Stiles protested, still smiling. Jackson didn't release him until a shrill whistle drew both their attention. Peter stood just in front of the church, one hand in his pocket. He crooked one finger on his free hand.
"Ready?" Jackson questioned, giving Stiles a nearly apologetic head tap.
"Guess so," Stiles said, smile decreasing only fractionally. Stiles elbowed Jackson in the ribs as they crossed to Peter. He didn't expect Jackson to trip him in response. Stiles' outraged protest was stopped at his lips when he crashed artlessly into Peter's chest.
"Alright?" Peter questioned as he slowly set Stiles back on his feet. Blushing furiously, Stiles nodded. His eyes weren't glued on Peter long enough to miss Jackson's wink. Stiles lunged for him, only held back by Peter's hand on his collar. He made a slight choking sound and Peter released him, rubbing at the back of his neck gently. Stiles found himself unable to pull away from the touch.
"You two coming or what?" Jackson demanded, holding the door open. Stiles only kept himself from trying to attack again with the knowledge that Peter was right behind him. He had to assume Peter would still discourage any murder attempts. Peter's fingers slid off and Stiles half fell, half walked through the door, ignoring the self satisfied smirk plastered on Jackson's face.

Stiles jerked to a stop just inside the door, Jackson slamming into his back. Blood boiled in Stiles' veins.
"It's alright," Peter said. Stiles forced himself forward. The shockingly beautiful woman seated on the back of a pew watched. Her eyes were so blue they were nearly violet. Stiles was immensely relieved when they swiveled off of him and to Jackson. She smiled softly.
"Jess get out of here until I'm finished. And go out the back." She mock saluted before sliding down. Her eyes didn't leave Jackson until she had to turn to leave. Only then did Stiles turn to look at the man who'd spoken. He waved a hand. "Bring 'em this way Hale." Stiles couldn't help flicking a gaze to Jackson for support. Jackson nodded once, swallowing visibly. Stiles' fists curled. Pretty much anything had to be better than this. "Come with me pretty boy," he said, opening a door to the right. Stiles knew that he meant Jackson. Jackson probably knew too. He ducked his head and followed. Peter gestured to a door just across, on the left. Knees weak, Stiles walked through it. It was a plain room, a cot against the far wall.
"Take off your shirt," Peter said, "lay on the cot."
"Can I ask what's going to happen first?" Stiles asked voice rough.
"It won't be pleasant," Peter warned. Stiles laughed, surprising himself.
"I figured that was kind of a given, yeah." Peter lifted a chain from a sink that Stiles hadn't even noticed. Or maybe it wasn't a chain. He looked closer. It looked like a chain but one side was flat, the other spiked. Stiles gulped. "Uhm," he let out nervously. "Silver?"
"It's alright," Peter murmured again, soothing. "I'm just going to put this on your back. And it's going to help." Jackson screamed hoarsely from the other room and Stiles flinched. Peter laid the chain back down and crossed to Stiles. He took his shoulders in both hands. "I promise this is going to help. Please Stiles." Stiles didn't respond. He didn't know why. It wasn't like he had a choice. One last glance at Peter and it was over. He nodded quickly. Stiles bit his lip as Peter's hands landed on his hips. He smoothed them upwards, pulling Stiles' shirt away as he did. Stiles lifted his arms, shivering slightly as the fabric fell away. "Lay down." Goosebumps rioted across his skin. Stiles moved to the cot anyways. He lay on his stomach, hands curling in the thin pillow.

It was painful as Peter crossed to the sink and back. "On three," he whispered. Stiles closed his eyes. "One." Peter shoved the spikes in without warning. Fire ripped into his body on either side of his spine, spreading out. He'd been too surprised to let out a sound but tears pricked his eyes. Peter was hovering over him immediately, mouth at his ear. "I'm sorry Stiles," he breathed, hands alternating pressure on his shoulders. Stiles guessed it was a distraction tactic. "I thought it would be better. I'm sorry." Stiles let out a soft whine before he could stop it. The room was perfectly, painfully silent. He could hear Jackson groan from across the hall.
"I'm okay," he said, "I'll be okay," he amended quickly. Peter didn't move and neither did he. He didn't want to know how much it would hurt. The door across the hall opened and closed. Jackson paced the room, still groaning softly. There was some shuffling and a hiss of breath. When the door opened and closed again Stiles forced himself to push up. Peter moved with him, keeping space between Stiles' back and his chest. Stiles let out a groan of his own. "Damn," he muttered. "So the silver…weakens me?" He needed distraction.
"It weakens the wolf yes. We'll have to see how your body reacts to it."
"Not liking it so far," Stiles said, forcing a smile. "Can I have my shirt?" Peter handed it to him. Stiles stood gingerly and moved slowly. He pulled on his shirt in the hall and emerged just in time to see Jess slip Jackson a piece of paper.
"Maybe when all this is over you can give me a call," she suggested, a smile playing at her lips. Stiles rolled his eyes.
"Come on pretty boy. We got places to be."

A/N: Creating my own mythology again. I mean…it's obvious at this point but I just felt I should warn anyways. Whatever.

Oh oh and I have some fluff planned next chapter. I'm excited. :D

I cannot be held responsible for this note. I'm on two hours of sleep. And I stayed up to post. Bam. Feel bad people. Leave me some lovely reviews. (Okay you don't really have to but I would appreciate it. And I'll try to actually reply to these ones.) At least think about reviewing?

Lol. I'll stop being desperate now and go to sleep. u.u

Hope you enjoyed. Thanks.