The Clever One Chapter 4: House Hunting, a teen wolf fanfic

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Title: The Clever One – How Stiles Beauty-and-the-Beast-ed Peter Hale

Tags: m/m, Alpha Peter, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, Pack Mom Stiles, Pack Feels, True Mates, Spark Stiles, magic, fluff, hurt/comfort, slow-burn, m/f

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Chris/Sheriff

Teen Wolf Characters: Peter Hale, Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd III, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Danny Mahealani, Sheriff Stilinski, Chris Argent

Summary: A rewrite of season 2 with Alpha Peter. Peter had called Stiles the clever one but Stiles wasn't sure if Peter realized how true that was, because that was the day Stiles figured out that he was Peter's mate. The reason why Peter never harmed him when he had no qualms maiming and killing others. Stiles decides to use his new position as Alpha Mate to his advantage, to shape the new Hale Pack and to make Peter work hard to earn Stiles as his mate.

The Clever One

How Stiles Beauty-and-the-Beast-ed Peter Hale

Chapter 4: House Hunting

Stiles looked very comfortable in Peter's car and it pleased the wolf. And it started to frustrate the man just how easily pleased his wolf was by everything Stiles did. Rationally speaking, he was aware that this was a good thing, that a wolf and their mate were meant to be, were meant to compliment each other, so of course would his mate please his wolf. It was just the level of ridiculousness that he felt whenever he felt like wagging his tail. Thankfully, he didn't have one. That would be so utterly humiliating. Yet every time Stiles offered that sharp smile, showing off that he had figured something out, every time Stiles took care of the pack, took his role as Alpha Mate seriously and enacted it? Peter's wolf wanted to roll onto his back and offer his soft belly to Stiles.

The boy started fidgeting with his phone and after a moment, a call connected. "He—ey, Allison."

Peter's claws extended, digging into the steering wheel as he kept from growling. Why was his mate calling a hunter? Why did his mate even have a hunter's phone number? An Argent, at that.

"Stiles?" Allison sounded tired and confused. "Why are you calling me?"

Well, at least Peter wasn't the only one wondering. He glowered at the street while listening.

"Me and Jackson are kinda… occupied tonight. We've been sitting at Lydia's bedside every day so far. But we can't… We have… plans tonight," Stiles was tapping his fingers against the car-door, rhythmless but frantic. "So—o, I was wondering, if you could go and sit with her. I don't want her to be alone when she wakes up, she needs a friendly face. And you could use it too."

"I don't really have the…" Allison trailed off. "I'm not good company."

"Good thing Lydia is unconscious, then," Stiles said, forcibly cheerful. "Listen, you've been holing up at home since... It's been a couple days now. This isn't… Go visit Lydia. Talk to her, she can't answer or argue, but it'll help to get it off your chest."

"There's nothing to get off my chest," Allison's voice had a note of finality and bravery.

"Ri—ight," Stiles' finger-tapping increased. "Your aunt was a crazy, bigoted mass-murderer and rapist. But she was also someone you grew up admiring and thinking of as an older sister, as you told us yourself. You're allowed to be fucking devastated by the things you learned about her before her death and you're allowed to mourn her, mourn the person you grew up knowing. You're also allowed to hate her and be angry at her and feel like screaming until your throat's bleeding."

There was total silence. Peter swallowed hard, looking at his mate from the corner of his eyes. Stiles' finger-tapping had stopped, his hand balled into such a tight fist that his nails bit harshly into his palm. That wasn't generic advise, that wasn't a platitude, that… came from a personal place. And Peter's wolf wanted to tear whoever hurt his mate to shreds.

"She tortured Derek," Allison whispered, sounding close to tears. "She shot Scott. She kept talking about them like… like they're not human. Like they're animals. She was… full of so much hatred and she enjoyed hurting them, it wasn't even just… just a job for her. She enjoyed it. And I don't… I keep thinking about the woman who would sit in my pillow-fort with me and tell me silly stories about what dad was like as a kid and who'd have tea-parties with me in the backyard in Washington and… and… and when I feel like crying about her, I remember how she shot Scott and I hate myself for wanting to cry… I don't know what to feel, Stiles."

"And that's okay," Stiles' voice softened and so did the look on his face. "It's okay to feel everything, it's okay to feel nothing, it's okay to rotate through feelings on a loop. She used you, she manipulated you, but in her own twisted way, she did also love you and it's okay to have complicated and confusing feelings about losing her. But it's not okay to lock others out, because grief's a dangerous beast that'll sink its claws into you and drag you into an abyss if you let it. So, I want you go to and visit Lydia in the hospital, because I don't want either of you to be alone."

There was a pause and rustling, before a sigh. "Fine. I'll check on her for a bit."

"Thank you," Stiles grinned, looking pleased.

"Stiles?" Allison asked, voice careful. "Why are you having plans with Jackson?"

"Oh, don't worry about that," Stiles spoke in a cheerful voice. "Tell Lydia she's missed!"

He disconnected the call and then typed out a message. Peter's phone buzzed, so he raised an eyebrow and turned toward Stiles, because why would his mate text him when they were together.

"Group chat," Stiles explained without looking up. "Just asking if everyone's still alive. The Derek-Jackson angle is an unknown variable, but both Scott-Derek and Scott-Jackson are… testy and potentially explosive. I'm unsure how that'll work out if nobody's there to mediate. There could be a very painful chain-reaction if Jackson turns and goes aggressive, because Scott's shown to be violent if it's in a response – or it's the full moon – and then his behavior may get Derek growly and suddenly we have three betas at each other's throats. Not a fan of that."

Peter hummed and reached one hand out to rest on Stiles' knee, stilling the nervous jerking. "We'll be quick and return to them in no time, darling. Now explain to me what you said to the Argent."

"Allison," Stiles stretched the name out slowly. "She has her own name. She isn't just a representation of her family. She's her own person. And I told her to sit with Lydia-"

"About grieving someone in a complicated way," Peter clarified.

Silence again and when Peter turned to check, Stiles was staring out the window. "No."

"No?" Peter raised both eyebrows at his mate.

"Look," Stiles heaved a sigh. "This bond may be pulling us together and we are doing the whole leading the pack together and I am giving you a chance, but… in no way or shape are we close enough for childhood trauma sob stories. I like the way we work together, I think I even like how easy it is to just… be around you. But that's asking for a level of trust we don't have yet."

Peter ground his teeth together to keep from growling. Mostly because he knew Stiles was right. The two barely knew each other – didn't really know each other at all. And the first three major impressions Peter had made on Stiles were to turn Stiles' best friend into a werewolf, attack the girl he… cared deeply about… and kidnap Stiles. And Stiles had said, from the get-go, that Peter would have to earn his trust and love. Just because Stiles felt drawn in by the bond didn't mean Peter had won either of those yet. His grip on the steering wheel tightened in frustration.

/break\

Stiles tilted his head as he wandered the third apartment. Penthouse. In one of Beacon Hills' more fancy buildings that even had a damn pool in the basement, only accessible for the residents. The first two had been a bust, one Stiles had disliked upon closer inspection, the other one had not met Peter's standards. This one though, Stiles liked it. And judging by the casual way Peter was leaning against the door-frame with his arms crossed, simply watching Stiles, Peter didn't seem to dislike it either. He'd made his distaste for the last one very clear.

"You like it," Peter observed, tilting his head.

"Mh," Stiles nodded. "Three bedrooms, spacious enough kitchen to host everyone, two bathrooms, fully furnished so we won't have to get anything new – and the furniture seems to be up to your standard this time too since you haven't viciously glared at the couch. It's close enough to the woods and suspiciously close to my house, plus the pool's a nice touch."

Peter looked pleased with that and turned toward the real estate agent. "We're taking it. Right now. We're moving in today, if that is possible."

A bemused smile played on Stiles' lips as he watched the agent sputter and Peter smooth things over by offering a horrendous sum of money to move things along faster, including a hefty cut for her. Rationally speaking, Stiles had been aware that Peter had a lot of money – eight people had died in that fire and all life insurance money had gone to the sole survivors, of whom there were only Peter and Derek now, and even before that, the Hales had been rich. Not just the Hales, but Peter specifically. He was a prolific attorney with high profile clients. Stiles remembered his dad complaining about Peter a lot, before the fire, how that damn Hale lawyer had gotten someone else out.

Stiles was absolutely not going to tell Peter that stories about him were what had first made Stiles curious about what a lawyer was and got him intrigued by the profession. Someone who got paid for twisting the law to get out of punishments? For lying and charming people? Where research and excessive knowledge paid off in great ways, because you needed to know the law and you needed to know precedence cases? Sign him the fuck up, that profession was tailor made for him!

"You said three bedrooms, there's another room," Peter pointed out with furrowed brows.

"It's an office," Stiles raised his eyebrows. "I figured it'd, you know, stay an office."

"I figured you'd, you know, want a room too," Peter countered mockingly. "One room for me, one for Derek, one for… the pups, whichever of them need to crash here can do so. One for you."

Oh. That was… surprisingly considerate of Peter. Stiles smiled a little at that, tilting his head.

"I don't think slumber parties are a good idea with the bond," Stiles pointed out honestly. "And considering how much you love that desk and chair in the Hale House, you should keep the office as your office. I'm assuming you're already working on getting your license back."

At that, Peter looked genuinely surprised, before smoothing his features back. "Of course did you do a background check on me. I shouldn't expect anything else, mh?"

"Oh no, I knew you were a lawyer before all this – all of this," Stiles waved a hand around, biting his tongue on saying 'werewolf business' when his eyes landed on the real estate agent in the next room making frantic phone calls. "You were the bane of my dad's existence when he was still a deputy, you know. I think you returning to your profession might force him into early retirement."

It earned him a genuine laugh from Peter and Stiles felt very warm and pleased by the sound.

/break\

Jackson was feeling weird. Everything was so intense. Sounds were louder, weirder – he could hear things that were too far away to be heard – and all scents were not just stronger, they were also… different. Everyone seemed to smell different, with specific notes to them and then the scents still changed depending on… how they felt? When Derek and Scott started growling at each other and flashing their eyes at each other, they started smelling more spicy and sharp, like a warning. It was so nauseating, too many impressions all over, overwhelming him. Plus, the heat, he was sweating so much, he'd already emptied most of the water bottles Stiles had dropped with them.

And now he had to move around, on top of everything else going on with him. Because Stiles and Peter had returned and announced they got an apartment. Just like that. Three hours after leaving, they returned and had a place, ready to move in. There'd always been something dangerously efficient to Stiles – sure, the guy was a fucking mess of bumbling and rambling, but Jackson wasn't an idiot, he knew Stiles was top of every class, knew Stiles sitting next to coach wasn't just warming the bench but more often than not giving coach game plans and telling him what the strengths and weaknesses of each play (on their own team and on the opposing team) were – but Peter Hale, with wealth, influence and the power of being an Alpha werewolf was enabling that efficiency to a degree that made Jackson fear for anyone opposing them.

Jackson didn't really get it. That whole soulmate thing that Scott had awkwardly tried to explain to him after Peter and Stiles left, that Peter was the Alpha but Stiles got equal say-so on the pack because he was the Alpha Mate and that this didn't mean the two were fucking (which had been Jackson's first conclusion and hey, he wasn't going to shame Stilinski for being into older men. Everyone with eyes could see the Daddy Issues written all over the sheriff's son, after all), it just meant that the two were werewolf soulmates. Every wolf had a destined mate out there, someone they would recognize upon first interacting with. Scott and Allison. Scott kept gushing about her, but more specifically about the bond between them. The feeling of home, of safety, of unwavering love, that he got from Allison, the fact that his wolf just knew she was his.

Jackson, who'd been feeling adrift and lonely ever since he learned that he was adopted, felt overwhelmed with longing at the concept. Someone who was wholly his, made for him as he was made for them. Someone who was home and an anchor, as Scott kept saying. Did someone like that exist for him? There was a flash of red, red hair and red lips stretched into a smile, and the cold vice-grip of hope choking his heart up. He shook the thought off and swallowed it down.

"Welcome to the temporary den of the Hale Pack," Stiles announced as he opened the door and led them inside. "Derek, can you help Jackson into the bedroom at the beginning of the hall?"

He pointed at a room and Derek grunted his confirmation. The older beta had an arm around Jackson, helping him upstairs and into the apartment without Jackson even having to ask for help. Not that he would have asked for help, because he didn't do that. But apparently, pack… helped each other. Even if they didn't actually know each other, or like each other. It was what Jackson craved more than anything in the world. A place where he could feel like he belonged.

/break\

Scott was sitting sprawled out on the couch, his socked feet up on the living room table. Stiles and Derek were in the kitchen arguing with each other about dinner, Jackson was more or less sleeping in the bedroom where Derek had dropped him off half an hour ago. That left Scott and Peter alone in the living room, on the couch, next to each other. Bored and maybe also a little curious, Scott peeked at what Peter was doing at his laptop. He was surprised to see Peter browsing cars.

"I just sat in your stupid expensive and clearly new car, why do you want a new one?"

Peter's eyes zeroed in on Scott at that, eyebrows furrowed. Seizing Scott up like he was something peculiar and Peter had to decide how to interact with him. Which… yeah. That feeling was mutual. The only reason Scott was here to begin with was Stiles. Because if Stiles was Peter's mate, if the two had what Scott and Allison had? Scott would be damned to stand between Stiles and having that because it was the singularly most amazing thing Scott could imagine. He fully didn't understand why his awesome best friend would be soulmates with a ruthless werewolf who wasn't above killing and maiming and only seemed to care about his own goals. But for now, Scott was going to forcibly give Peter the benefit of the doubt. For Stiles' sake.

Amusingly enough, Scott could see a similar thought process reflected in Peter's face – playing nice with Scott for Stiles' sake even though the man seemed to care for Scott as much as Scott for him.

"It's not for me," Peter's eyes returned to the screen. "It seems to me like an appropriate first courting gift to Stiles. He can't rely on hitching a ride with Jackson all the time and I do not trust the… death trap he calls a car to not fall apart with Stiles in it."

At his words, Scott tensed and bit his lip. That was actually thoughtful, because he could hear the edge of concern in Peter's voice even as the Alpha tried to play it off with nonchalance. The new pack-bond between them buzzed in the back of Scott's mind, allowing him more insight into Peter's feelings, allowing him to see past the nonchalance with more ease. Peter really did care about Stiles. This would be so easy, just keep his mouth shut and let Peter shoot himself in the foot, but…

"Don't get him a car," Scott's voice dropped to a low whisper.

Just to make sure Stiles couldn't hear, even though Stiles was in another room and still arguing with Derek ('Capers absolutely do not belong in any food, much less pizza, Sourwolf!'). Peter arched one eyebrow and there was so much judgment and dare in that action, it infuriated Scott.

"The Jeep," Scott frowned annoyed. "It was his mom's. It's like one of the few things he has left of her, he's never going to abandon it. He's keeping it together with duct-tape and hope not because he can't get another car, but because this car matters."

Peter's head snapped up, eyes narrowed at him. Able to detect that Scott wasn't lying. In the kitchen, Derek had gone quiet and was, after a beat, agreeing with Stiles, much to Stiles' delight. The look on Peter's face softened ever so slightly and it was weird to have that aimed at him.

"Thank you," Peter said genuinely. "I think I'll find something different, then."

Scott heaved a sigh. He'd only done this for Stiles. Stiles' mom was still a very touchy topic that they didn't bring up, that had Stiles defensive and angry and sad and overwhelmed. Comments about the Jeep had him testy usually. Sure, he called it a piece of crap at times, but he did it with affection, in the same tone of voice that Claudia used to, with a smile as she patted Roscoe's hood and told Scott and Stiles that it was totally fine, her piece of crap Jeep would get them home safe. Scott quickly got his phone out to distract himself as he was overcome with his own grief. She'd been Melissa's best friend, the two women had been inseparable, she was the tia Scott never had.

Instead, he typed a message to Allison: Hey. I hope you're doing okay. I love you [bow emoji]

It only took moments for a reply to come in: At the hospital visiting Lydia. Still unconscious. Danny's with me. We're playing cards. Love you too [wolf emoji]

Scott smiled softly at that, pleased that she'd left her bedroom on her own and was interacting with other people again. That was progress. Progress was good. Scott still remembered how Stiles had been after his mom had died and it had frightened Scott. He hadn't known how to deal with it back then and he didn't know if he could now. Because grief was something only the person experiencing it could deal with, there was… there was nothing Scott could do but be there. It made him feel helpless to only play support, instead of being an active help.

/break\

Peter had the smallest, softest smile on his lips, safe in the knowledge no one was awake to witness it. Derek sat on the armchair, his arms crossed, head tipped forward to rest against his collar-bone as the beta was asleep. They'd woken Jackson up when the pizza arrived and he had stayed in the living room after, curled together on one end of the L shaped couch. Next to him was Scott, his legs somewhat entangled with Jackson's in the boys' sleep. Scott's head was resting on Stiles' thigh as Peter's first beta snored peacefully, his body bent to fit the corner of the couch. Stiles, in return, was stretched out the length of the couch, safely and comfortably tucked between the backrest of the couch and Peter, his head cushioned on Peter's chest, hand sprawled on Peter's abdomen.

They'd eaten pizza together, the teens arguing about a video game after Stiles declared they needed a Play Station in the apartment. Their argument lacked any serious heat though, it was more familiar bickering than the usual fights that broke out between them. It was… achingly nostalgic. It reminded Peter of pack nights, Damon cooking for everyone and the pups arguing, Laura, Derek and Cora fighting about some nonsense, just like Peter, Talia and Aaron used to. There was a pang in his chest as he allowed himself to remember his younger brother for the first time since waking from the coma. While the loss of his family was what had fueled him so far, it had also been a vague concept of grief muddled together, not… not the individual people he had lost.

His hand started shaking a little where it ran over Stiles' buzz-cut and he couldn't help press it against Stiles' head, press the boy closer to him, trying to hold him safe, protect him from a danger that wasn't even there, while his eyes surveyed his pack. In that moment, Peter Hale vowed something to himself. Never again. He couldn't lose another pack, he wouldn't be able to come back from that. He would fight to the end of the world and tear everything around him apart before he'd allow anyone to take his pack from him again. They were his now, he was going to protect each and every one of them with his dying breath if he had to, before he'd ever experience the crippling pain of a breaking pack-bond, watching a pack-mate die. Never again. They were his.

Author's note: So this chapter may not have been planned at all, but I am actually immensely pleased with it. Also I fully do blame that one ask I got on tumblr about whether or not I'll ever write about the pack learning about the Claudia trauma for how grief and Claudia focused this chapter turned out, because I couldn't shake the thought and I do love the idea of Stiles-Allison friendship and bonding rooted in painful and complicated mourning!

NEXT chapter, we get more puppies! Fully no promise on how many, since this story keeps running away from me, but I CAN promise you Isaac, we are getting at least one puppy next chapter ;D