A/N: See, I promised this one would come sooner. So glad to have so many wonderful comments and several new readers. Enjoy!

Once More with Feeling – Part 2 of the With Feeling series

Chapter 5: Truth and Promises

Stiles instinctively moved in front of his father, leaping up from the sofa with remarkable speed. If Peter meant to attack, he'd have to go through Stiles first.

Peter rose more slowly from his seat, still holding his clawed hands up in seeming surrender. "I don't mean any harm, Stiles. I'm simply taking on the burden you weren't ready to accept. You're pack now. Your father should know the truth."

If they hadn't just witnessed Peter's transformation for themselves, Stiles imagined his father would have laughed, assumed it was all some big joke, but you couldn't fake those kinds of special effects when they were right in front of your face. Peter was full on beta mode now as he started to bring his hands down, standing there in all his wolfish glory, waiting for a reaction.

Stiles could feel his father itching to move, probably for his gun, which of course wasn't on him at the moment since he was in civilian clothing for the day. But as Stiles sensed his father rise from the sofa behind him, he suddenly realized just how bad this could get. If his dad attacked, Peter would retaliate, no matter how noble he was pretending his motivations were right now.

Seeing his window of opportunity closing, much as it pained him to side with Peter in anything, Stiles came to a quick decision and spun around, guarding Peter behind him instead with hands raised.

"Dad, wait. It's okay. It's really okay," Stiles said, finally able to see his father's reaction.

True to form, the Sheriff looked impressively impassive if understandably on edge, his gaze focused past Stiles to watch Peter carefully. His hands closed into fists and he looked at Stiles incredulously, if to say 'you're protecting this guy?'

"I can explain—" Stiles began, but he didn't get much further before the front door burst open in the entryway. Stiles whirled around, looking around Peter to see Derek rush into the living room. Peter must have left him a note or some other hint about where he would be, or maybe Derek had merely decided on walking by once he woke up and happened to pick up on Peter's scent.

Now, Derek stood stiff but poised to attack, his eyes flashing red in warning.

Peter turned to look at Derek as well, and Stiles saw a wide grin split the older man's face as his features slowly began to return to normal. "Ah, I was wondering when you'd join us…Joe."

Stiles really had no idea how this was his life.

But, crazy as it seemed, where he had once been sitting beside his father across from Peter Hale—who'd been ready to spill all werewolf secrets to the Sheriff of Beacon Hills—now Stiles sat in the same position, his father beside him once more, across from Peter and Derek.

Peter had taken the lead in explaining, and Stiles was both thankful and surprised that he hadn't had to correct the older wolf once—Peter was being nothing but honest.

"So…do I not want to ask what all of this has to do with the deaths over the past few months?" the Sheriff questioned with a hard look at the older Hale.

"That would be…best," Peter said cryptically.

"The most recent ones were from something that doesn't exist anymore, Dad," Stiles added, surprised at how quickly he jumped to Jackson's defense to cover for him, but after all, the whole Kanima thing hadn't really been Jackson's fault. "We've been doing all we can to protect people, not hurt them…for the most part."

"And Scott and all your friends are…werewolves too?" The Sheriff's voice was frighteningly even and controlled, the way he sounded during an interrogation, or when he was about to ground Stiles for a week.

"Not Allison, Lydia, or Danny, but…yeah, the rest are," Stiles said.

"And…Derek as a 16-year-old was the boy I met?"

Stiles swallowed thickly, averting his gaze to the carpet. "Yeah."

"Who you've been…sleeping with."

Stiles swallowed again. "Uhh…well, in our defense…"

"Stiles."

Slowly, Stiles looked up at his dad again, finding a hard, blank expression that he knew was there to mask concern more than anger. "…yeah, that's the gist of it."

The Sheriff took a few deep breaths, centered his body, lifted his head to the Hales sitting across from them, and looked squarely at Derek. "So exactly what intentions do you have with my son, Mr. Hale? Because your uncle doesn't make it sound very casual."

Stiles felt like he was in a wind tunnel—completely incapable of movement or sentient thought.

Derek, to his credit, looked almost as impassive as the Sheriff, but when he opened his mouth to respond, Peter interrupted.

"They've basically eloped by wolf standards. Mated. So 'casual' is the last thing I'd call it," Peter grinned politely—politely.

Stiles buried his face in his hands. "I hate you so much," he grumbled so that only the wolves could hear him.

"Sheriff Stillinski, you need to understand that these are…have been…very unique circumstances," Derek attempted to diffuse the suffocating amount of tension in the air. "I had no intention of approaching Stiles before what happened. Things were different when I was sixteen, and I know the age difference now is…significant, but…" He trailed, a sense that he had no idea how to finish that sentence clear in his eyes when Stiles looked up again. Or maybe it was just that Stiles could literally feel Derek's panic through their mated connection despite his stony expression.

Awesome.

Because saying the truth, that Derek loves Stiles and they plan to spend the rest of their lives together, because it's all fairytale awesome with their freaky new connection, and Stiles totally knows its fate and magical in some insane way even if it does all sound like teenage rambling…

Yeah, his dad probably wouldn't buy that.

"Dad…I'm almost seventeen, and I know that's still young, especially compared to Derek, and that you're probably thinking I'm just being a stupid teenager, but this isn't some crush, or some gang I've gotten mixed up with," Stiles said with as much determination as he could muster, turning to face his dad directly. "Now you know that all the times you've been disappointed in me lately weren't because I was doing all the stupid things you thought, but because I've been trying to protect the people I care about. Including Jackson, if you can believe it. This is…an extended family. It's bigger than just having werewolves for friends. We're just trying to protect each other and this town. I know what I'm doing, Dad, and I've wanted to tell you, I just didn't know how. Certainly didn't imagine it going down like this." He cast a quick glare at Peter.

There was a long silence as the Sheriff digested the events and details he'd been given. Again, Stiles wondered if his dad would even believe all of this was real if he hadn't seen Peter transform right there in their living room, but now there was no going back. He knew—about the wolves and about Stiles and Derek—and now Stiles had to deal with the consequences.

At long last, the Sheriff spoke. "Melissa knows?" he asked.

"She was pretty freaked, but…she's good now."

The Sherriff took in another deep breath. "I won't pretend to think I could keep you from this, not something you care about this much. I don't want to tell you to stay away from your friends just because they're…different. But this is dangerous, Stiles. This whole situation is different from…anything I ever thought I'd have to deal with. So if this is going to continue, I need to know everything. It'll make it easier to do my job, as Sheriff and as a father, and…might make it easier to keep the truth off anyone else's radars too," he added with a look back at the Hales.

Peter smiled wide as if he knew things would end this way right from the beginning. Stiles could tell his dad didn't trust Peter, though, because every time the creeper looked at the Sheriff, Stiles felt his dad squirm in his seat. "I'm glad you feel that way, Sheriff," Peter said. "We could use a few more adults in the pack to keep the kids in line."

The Sherriff returned Peter's smile with cold, masked acceptance.

Derek glared at his uncle out of the corner of his eye, then caught Stiles' gaze for the first time, exuding apology and regret.

Stiles was really getting sick of seeing that expression on the sourwolf.

"As for…the two of you," the Sheriff said, which made Stiles' throat close up as he was pulled from his reverie. "I can't say I approve of your…relationship. The boy I met who was the same age as my son…I could understand, accept, liked. Most of my reasons for being wary about you, Derek, may be explained by…all this," he gestured weakly at the werewolves in his living room, "but that doesn't mean it's suddenly okay for a grown man to date an underage boy."

"Dad…"

"Don't say I don't understand," he rounded on Stiles. "I know I don't understand. There's a lot to digest here. So…" He sighed and turned back to look determinedly at Derek. "We're going to need to have some private talks to make sure I understand everything. We can go from there. In the meantime," he glanced back to Stiles, "no more sleepovers."

Stiles deflated, not that he hadn't expected that amendment. He knew he didn't have an argument his father would understand. 'But we're mates!' just wasn't going to fly. Still, he couldn't imagine being without Derek's close proximity and now very familiar touch.

Derek stood from his chair. "I don't want to make things more difficult for Stiles. That's why I avoided him for as long as I did. I want you to understand everything, Sheriff, because if Stiles is pack, you should be too. I can promise you that we protect our own, and we'll look after you as closely as we look after Stiles. Though, to be honest, most of the time…he's the one looking after us."

'Or setting us on fire' Stiles practically heard Peter say aloud as the older wolf's sharp blue eyes darted to Stiles' face.

Stiles swallowed, averted his gaze, but when he looked up again, Peter was smiling—mischievously but not unfriendly. It was even more unnerving somehow. That guy was either truly a sociopath and holding back some awful grand master plan to bite them all in the ass—maybe somewhat literally—or actually honest about wanting to make things up to Derek. Either way, Stiles was seriously terrified about what it all might mean.

"Would it be alright if Stiles and I talked for a few minutes alone?" Derek asked.

Stiles tried to imagine this scenario where his dad and Peter Hale would be alone and saw nothing but horror, but he also really wanted to talk to Derek.

The Sheriff nodded.

Rather than head up the stairs to Stiles' room, Derek turned for the kitchen, and Stiles scampered from the couch to follow after him. Once they reached the kitchen counter, Stiles gripped the edges of Derek's leather jacket and yanked him in for a kiss. He didn't even try to make it safe and chaste with their respective father figures sitting in the other room; he didn't know the next time he'd get to do this.

Derek's stubble rubbed in a familiar way against his cheek. Derek's mouth was hot—everything about him was always so warm. And one hand came to rest gently at Stiles' waist. Derek didn't try to push him away, he allowed the contact, sank into it, and hummed.

"Stiles…" he said warningly once they pulled apart—well, sort of apart. Stiles was still gripping Derek's jacket, Derek still had his hand on Stiles hip, and they were about half an inch from kissing again.

"Yeah," Stiles breathed out slowly, "I know. But the 'no more sleepovers' clause might kill me. So we won't be having any new romps in my bedroom. Fine. We'll work around it. I'm not giving any part of this up, or waiting until I'm older. We've had that argument."

Derek leaned back and looked him in the eyes. He didn't look disapproving though. He knew there was no arguing with Stiles on this, and it was clear he didn't really want to. He gave a crooked smile. "Even if your dad finds out and turns me in?"

"You'll just break out and we'll run dramatically away together."

Derek huffed a laugh.

"Okay, so maybe I don't really mean that. Going the way of Bonnie and Clyde was never all that appealing, but…we'll work it out."

"Yeah…" Derek leaned in again for a quick, gentle press of lips, then pulled all the way away. "I'm so sorry this happened. I had no idea he'd do something like this."

"It's Peter," Stiles dismissed, leaning back against the counter. "Predictability is his lowest possible trait. At least Dad didn't pull his gun."

Derek laughed again, and they chatted a bit more, but there wasn't really anything else to say that hadn't been said already. Stiles promised he wouldn't let his dad keep him from practice at the den, and that he'd even bring his dad to watch if that appeased him, but he also promised that they would revisit the events of the previous night soon, somewhere somehow when no one would be around to interrupt and ruin their afterglow.

Then, only a few short minutes later, the Hales were getting ready to leave, and Derek and Stiles' dad were setting up a time tomorrow to…talk—just the two of them. It was all so real suddenly, and even though events had transpired without any gunshots or gaping wounds exchanged, Stiles felt raw and exposed. He wasn't sure he was ready to face his dad alone.

He allowed Peter to pull him aside before the Hales left, if only to glare at the guy properly.

"Just like my nephew," Peter shook his head with a wry smile. "A fool in love, not thinking of the consequences to those around him. Imagine if your father had been the one to walk in on the two of you as I did?"

Stiles felt his heart stutter at the thought.

"Exactly. Everything worked out for the best, and now…we have a new, powerful ally who can only make things easier for everyone involved. Besides," he tilted his head with a somewhat distant look for a moment, "I do miss having other adults in the pack. Melissa is a nice addition, though I doubt she'll be happy to see me again. Chris, maybe…he always was such a dear."

"Hey," Stiles said with a little more malice than intended, though he tried not to shrink back too much when Peter flicked his eyes to him. "Don't think you can just go fucking with everybody's heads. Not if you're actually part of this pack. Just because things turned out okay with my dad doesn't mean you get to go stalk Scott's mom, or Mr. Argent. We're supposed to be a team. Chris didn't have anything to do with—"

"I know he didn't," Peter said evenly. "I took care of the one who did, remember?"

"Yeah, just like you took care of Laura." Stiles stifled a gasp as soon as that left his lips. He felt awful that he'd sort of forgotten about Laura when he was mentally lauding Peter for only having killed assholes. Laura had been an innocent. She'd been family.

Peter didn't look too happy to be reminded of her. He backed Stiles up against the front door. Derek and the Sheriff couldn't see them from where they were still sitting in the living room. Stiles flinched when the older Hale pressed a palm to the door beside his head. "How can I make up for such an awful atrocity, I asked myself. Derek has to live with his guilt over the fire; how do I live with mine? Then I thought of you…Stiles." His eyes flashed bright wolf blue for a moment as he scanned down Stiles' body.

Now would be a good time to find his voice and call out for Derek, Stiles thought, but he couldn't move, let alone whimper.

"You should be properly brought into this pack. Your father too. That's how I make up for what I've done, by rebuilding the family we lost. So don't you worry, Stiles…" Peter's hand moved slowly from where it had been pressed into the door to briefly cup and then pat his cheek affectionately, right where Derek's stubble had rubbed him slightly red. "You're family now. You have nothing to fear from me."

Stiles let out a deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when Peter pulled away. He stared for a moment at Peter's normal again blue eyes and contented smile, not sure how to read any of what had just happened. He straightened himself by the time his father and Derek came around the corner. He contemplated giving Derek a panicked look, a plea for help, but he didn't really know what he'd say. Had Peter just promised protection? Or threatened him?

After the Hales left, Stiles and his father eventually ended up at the kitchen table, staring at their remaining and now cold pancakes. Stiles figured he might as well go for broke.

"So, I guess it probably wouldn't help if I said I'm in love with him."

The Sheriff looked at him with a certain fond sadness, exasperation, but not anger or the stern Sheriff act he'd displayed to Derek and Peter. He sighed, something he'd been doing a lot of that morning, and scooted his chair closer to Stiles so he could put an arm around his son in a half-hug. "I'm just trying to take this all in slowly, okay, which I know isn't how you do…anything. I know in a few years, some of this won't matter, but right now you're still my sixteen year old little boy running around with a pack of monsters."

"Dad—"

"And I know they're not monsters, I just…feel a little like I'm going to hear my alarm clock any minute now and find you still making pancakes."

Stiles gave a half-smile and leaned against his dad. "Yeah…I know what you mean."

"So…maybe we need that 'us' day like we planned, huh? You filled me in on a lot, but I'm guessing there are a few other things I probably don't know. I'll admit, it's a relief to know that you were just keeping this insane secret from me, instead of…suddenly changing into some other kid. All these things—saving people's lives and protecting your friends—that's the Stiles I know. Don't think I'm not proud of that, kiddo. I'm just as scared as ever that you're in too deep and might get hurt, but…I'm glad I know the truth."

Stiles looked up and stared into his father's eyes, stunned. He didn't want to admit that Peter might have actually done him a favor. "Yeah. Me too."

"Good. And tomorrow…I'll have that talk with Derek."

Fuck. Then again, maybe Peter was just a sadistic bastard.

THE END...but with a small drabble epilogue