Sugar for the Secretary Chapter 2: The New Packmate, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf Stetopher Teen Wolf Sugar for the Secretary Teen Wolf Stetopher Teen Wolf

Title: Sugar for the Secretary – Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, AU/heavy canon divergence, post-Nogitsune, Bad Alpha/Friend Scott, Stiles leaves Beacon Hills, Spark Stiles, Pack Mom Stiles, Alpha Peter, magic, sugar daddies, fluff, hurt/comfort, PTSD, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia

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

Summary: Stiles finally got out of Beacon Hills, after he had a fall-out with his own pack. He moves to London for a fresh start and gets a job at as a personal assistant to a lawyer, Peter Hale. He didn't expect for Peter to be an Alpha, or to find a new pack and even less so, to fall in love.

Sugar for the Secretary

Stiles Summer Stories 2024

Part 2: The New Packmate

Chris was being a nervous wreck and he knew it. Peter had invited Stiles over for dinner today. Stiles and Stiles 'friend' (the way Peter kept saying it didn't sit right with Chris). It would be the first time Chris would see him since that day in the café.

He knew the betas had kept track of Stiles, had grown fond of the boy. Chris couldn't bring himself to see Stiles, the guilt was too overwhelming. His family had hurt Stiles, his sister had shot him, his father had tortured him. Stiles didn't deserve to have to look at Chris.

"You need to get over your guilt," Derek spoke sharply. "What they did was not your fault. You kept telling me for years that what Kate did wasn't my fault. You don't get to carry the blame for what your family did either, Chris. You aren't an Argent. You're a Hale."

Chris' heart beat in his throat as he looked at the young man who'd been a son to him for years now. Sighing, he put the knife on the cutting board and opened his arms. Derek was quick to slip into the hug, nuzzling into his surrogate father's arm.

"Thank you," Chris whispered with a tight-lipped smile. "But how do I tell him."

"I'm sorry, I don't know," Derek shook his head. "But I know you'll find a way."

When their hug ended, Derek picked up the knife and continued cutting the bell peppers. Shaking this uneasy feeling off, Chris went ahead with the next task. Dinner was going to be delicious, that much he was going to make sure of. And perhaps, at one point, he was going to manage to take Stiles aside and talk to him alone. Explain himself to the boy.

The doorbell ringing was like the signal at the beginning of a race. The betas came barreling downstairs, all eager to see Stiles again and curious to meet this one person that mattered to him. Chris and Derek were too curious to stay in the kitchen too. The first one at the door was Lydia and with a bright, victorious smile did she open the door.

Stiles stood there, not in one of the expensive suits Peter had bought him, but rather wearing skinny jeans and a red hoodie. He was holding hands with a tall, blonde boy with sharp cheekbones and distrustful eyes. The blonde looked like he had been dragged here against his will.

"Behave yourself, pup," Stiles hissed beneath his breath. "Hi, guys. This is Isaac."

Isaac growled and flashed his eyes golden. The betas flashed their own eyes right back. Growling on all sides, until Peter growled, loud and final, causing his betas to back down. However, the Alpha growl only made Isaac raise his hackles even more. It was, to everyone's surprise, Stiles who growled and whose growl, as human as it was, caused Isaac to back down.

"Sorry about that, he's not house-trained," Stiles smiled with an evil edge. "Thanks for having us."

His grip on Isaac's hand tightened as he pulled the other boy into the house. Cora and Allison went to set the table while Erica was eagerly showing Stiles and by extension also Isaac the downstairs of the mansion. They came to the dining room just in time for dinner. While everyone was piling food onto their plates, there was some superficial small-talk.

"So…" Stiles spoke up at one point, drawling the word out. "I don't know how to breach this topic delicately and I have also never been one for delicacies, but I want Isaac to join your pack."

Peter raised both his eyebrows, looking from Stiles to Isaac and lastly landing on Chris. All Chris could do was shrug. He had not seen that coming either. They thought Stiles wanted them to meet his romantic partner, opening up to them more. This was… unexpected.

"Stiles," Isaac actually whined. "What the fuck."

Stiles growled again, a good imitation of a wolf, before turning his focus onto Peter and Chris. "I know it's a big ask, especially since you don't know him and, well, he doesn't know you either. Hence this dinner. So you can all get to know each other and you'll grow attached to the sarcastic bastard and you'll want him in your pack!"

"Why," Peter tilted his head, leaning back a little.

"Because," and this time Stiles turned to look at Isaac with a near pleading look. "I've been fighting tooth and nail trying to make this pack of two thing work for us to keep you from turning into an omega, pup. I'm tired. I'm… I'm so tired, I can't keep doing this. And this is the first time we ran into a good pack, a pack I think I can trust, even with you. Please, give it a chance."

"Stiles…" Isaac looked frustrated and desperate.

"I'm not a wolf," Stiles shook his head. "I'm not an Alpha. A pack of two can work between an Alpha and a loyal beta, but I'm not a wolf, much less an Alpha and this isn't going to work forever."

Isaac actually snarled. "You're more important than an Alpha."

The look on Stiles' face was so unfathomably soft that it stole Chris' breath away when he reached out to rest a hand in Isaac's neck. They had to be mates, Chris couldn't explain it any other way. Why did it ache to think that? He barely knew Stiles. Yes, it had forged a strong bond for him to have the boy crawl into his lap and feel safe there during his panic-attack, but he still didn't actually know Stiles. He had no right to be possessive of Stiles. Him so much less than Peter, who at least saw Stiles every day at work and who also had the justification of his possessive inner wolf. His husband slipped a hand into his, squeezing it, conveying a similar annoyed possessive feeling.

"I love you for thinking that, but that still doesn't make it true."

Chris' heart clenched at the word love. How had this boy walked into their lives and in such a short time so firmly planted himself in their hearts? Peter was growling ever so lowly next to him.

"And why should we want your boyfriend in our pack?" Jackson asked with a frown.

"My what now," Stiles stared at the other boy with a dumbfounded expression.

"Boyfriend," Lydia next to her mate rolled her eyes, motioning at Stiles' hand in Isaac's neck. "Wolves only let their mates or their Alphas touch their necks."

Stiles pulled his hand back at the comment. "Right. Yeah, no. Those are… not all options."

"If you want us to consider this, you will have to be a bit more forthcoming, Stiles," Chris prompted in a serious voice, pinning the boy with a look. "There's something you're not saying here."

Stiles heaved a long-suffering sigh and stuffed his hands into his hoodie, stretching his legs long beneath the table. "The pack. Our old pack, in Beacon Hills. It was… I was…"

It looked like it physically pained him to talk about this. In the end, Isaac whined and took over.

"Stiles was Pack Mom," Isaac finished with a guarded look on his face. "He's the one who taught all of us how to control our wolves, taught us our anchors, studied up on pack hierarchies and dynamics, researched every damn threat we faced. We were a bunch of fifteen year old kids who had no idea what the fuck we were doing and Stiles kept us together."

Chris watched his husband's reaction closely. Eyes wide, nostrils flaring. Derek and Cora seemed equally surprised and impressed at this. Oh, Chris knew how important a Pack Mom was to a pack, how highly cherished and valued. But to a born wolf, it wasn't just a learned knowledge, it meant more. This also made Isaac's earlier statement sound vastly different. He'd thought Stiles was more important than an Alpha because he was Isaac's mate. But, in the overall pack hierarchy, a truly cherished Pack Mom was more important than an Alpha. Alphas could change with something as simple as a kill or disgrace, but the loyalty betas had toward their Pack Mom? Stiles pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes and heaved a sigh, looking tense.

"A Pack Mom," Peter's voice was filled with desire and awe. "My, you are full of surprises."

"I need to know what happened to your old pack," Derek frowned concerned. "Are they…"

"Who knows," Stiles shrugged with a casualness that was betrayed by the bitter and pained look on his face. "We left and that was for the best, for us."

"What did they do," Cora asked, looking baffled. "Pack Mom is like the most important role in a pack, if a pack has a Pack Mom, the betas tend to have even stronger bonds with their Pack Mom than with their Alpha, since the Pack Mom is the heart and soul of the pack. Our… Our dad was Pack Mom, back when… our mom was Alpha."

The betas – the bitten and turned betas – all listened attentively and looked startled by this.

"Your dad was mom?" Erica asked with a confused look. "What."

"It's just a title," Stiles sighed exhausted and annoyed. "It's not about gender. It just, in classic pack dynamics, it was the role of the Alpha Mate. The Alpha provides the physical protection, the Alpha Mate provides the emotional support. Since most Alphas tended to be male, it got kind of shoe-horned into the Pack Dad and the Pack Mom. But as pack dynamics shifted and there were more packs without an Alpha Mate, other pack members started to fill the role too on occasion, separating the role of Pack Mom from the role of Alpha Mate. A pack can have an Alpha, an Alpha Mate and a Pack Mom. Pack Mom has to be neither a woman nor a mother nor the Alpha Mate. It's just… the person who provides the emotional support for the pack, the one the betas can come to with their problems and worries, so the Alpha can focus on the bigger picture and the safety of the pack."

"That… sounds pretty cool," Boyd raised his eyebrows. "And pretty important."

Stiles snorted, a twisted look on his face. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Or should be."

"What did your pack do," Cora repeated, a growl to her voice.

She flashed her eyes golden in impatience. Protective over Stiles. Whether because of how attached the betas had grown, or because she had to think of her dad, of his role in the pack, and of what she would feel if anyone had managed to chase him out of the pack, Chris wasn't sure. Maybe both.

"There was…" Stiles bit his lip. "There was a new guy, new wolf, who joined our pack. And he really got into our Alpha's head. He was good, manipulative but in such a sweet and twisting way. And our Alpha ate the whole spiel up. The plan was simple. Gain our Alpha's trust, gain the pack's trust, kill our Alpha, become Alpha, without having to fight to control the betas since he'd already be in everyone's head. Having a Pack Mom who was really fucking suspicious of him and did not buy any of the shit he was spouting? That didn't fit in his plans."

"Scott was an idiot," Isaac glared and crossed his arms. "He bought everything Theo said. So when Theo said that it's weird for a boy to be Pack Mom and that – ridiculously enough – Scott's mom should be Pack Mom, just because she was a woman and a mom, even though the majority of the betas had never even interacted with the woman, Scott agreed."

Stiles clasped a hand over his mouth, resting his elbow on the table. There was a far-off look on his face. Mournful. It made Chris want to wrap him up in a hug and never let him go again.

"It wasn't even that," Stiles sighed, heartbroken. "He didn't even trust me anymore. We used to be inseparable. But when he looked at me, all he saw was a killer."

That caused the Hale Pack to tense up some, exchanging confused looks. Isaac whined, a high pitched and desperate sound, before he practically dove in to hug Stiles, burying his face in Stiles' neck and nearly dragging the other boy into his own lap.

"You're not a killer, Stiles," Isaac spoke with so much conviction and pain. "It wasn't your fault."

"What wasn't his fault," Peter wanted to know, one eyebrow elegantly cocked.

"I don't like this game of twenty questions," Stiles muttered, rubbing his face exhausted. "I was… the year before Theo moved to Beacon Hills, I was… possessed. I… killed a lot of people, including a member of our pack, when they were trying to break the possession."

"It killed those people," Isaac snarled. "You were possessed, it was using you. That wasn't your fault. You didn't want any of this, you wouldn't still have nightmares about it if you did."

"Shortly before we left," Stiles continued, ignoring Isaac. "Theo sent someone after me and I did kill him, it was self-defense and an accident, but Theo used it as an argument with Scott. That it had been so easy for me to kill because I am a killer, because of what… And Scott bought it. Told me that his pack didn't kill and that… was that. I was out of the pack."

"We were out of the pack," Isaac corrected with a glare. "Because fuck Scott."

A small, tired smile spread over Stiles' lips as he reached out to take Isaac's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. Chris sat back, taking a slow, deep breath. Stiles had been possessed, used to kill a pack-mate. And here he thought the boy's history with the Argents would be the worst of it.

"That's what you meant when you said that the Argents were just the start," Derek noted.

Stiles gave a half-shrug and got up. "I'll just… I need a moment."

"Maybe some fresh air will help," Chris offered, motioning at the glass doors leading out.

With a short, grateful nod did Stiles leave the house to the garden. Leaving the Hales alone with Isaac. The boy still looked wary and tense but the level of trust in them that Stiles had just displayed must have eased his mind some, at least. Peter got up and walked around the table to take Stiles' now vacant seat and look at the beta intensely.

"Tell us about yourself, Isaac," Peter prompted gently.

Isaac crossed his arms defiantly, glaring a little. "My mom and brother died when I was little. My dad turned into an abusive jerk after it, beat me up and pushed me around. He got killed when I became a wolf. I was a murder suspect for a stint and then…"

The look on Isaac's face softened. "Stiles talked his dad into taking me in, because I was pack. I was still so newly turned, I hadn't even seen a full moon yet and Stiles was afraid of what'd happen if I ended up in a human foster family. The sheriff was… he was more a dad to me than my own."

"What happened to him," Chris wanted to know. "The way Stiles spoke about him…"

"He died," Isaac swallowed hard. "That was the final straw. Even when… Even when Scott kicked Stiles out of the pack, Stiles wouldn't leave. He'd already lost his mom, he couldn't leave his dad. So Theo… had the sheriff killed. We both know it, but we can't prove it. It was just a monster attack that went wrong. So… Stiles and I ran away, before Theo could try and kill the both of us too."

"Jesus," Jackson grunted with a gut-punched look. "Was there any trauma he didn't go through."

It earned him a hoarse laugh from Isaac. "Pretty much sampled them all. Perks of growing up in Beacon Hills, really. You don't get out of that town unscathed. If you get out of it."

"I would like to get to know you more," Peter offered. "You are a packless young wolf living in my territory. And I'd rather avoid having a feral omega at my hands in a couple months. Let's get to know each other, see if you are a good fit for our pack and if our pack is a good fit for you."

"I'm not joining any pack without Stiles," Isaac spoke firmly.

"Oh, we totally want Stiles," Erica chimed in. "We have been trying to make him join our pack for at least two weeks now. Some of us for longer. Why did he only ask for you to join?"

"Beats me," Isaac frowned. "But it makes me feel suspicious. Because if he can trust you people with me, why doesn't he trust you enough to want to join your pack himself?"

"It's not about my lack of trust, pup. I don't know how far they can or would trust me."

"If that's about this possession," Peter started, pinning Stiles with a look where the boy had just reentered the dining room. "I may not know the details, but I know enough about possessions to know that you weren't in control and that you aren't to be blamed for what happened. And if the possession really was broken, there is nothing to worry about."

Stiles tilted his head where he still stood close to the door, watching them. "It's not about that, but… I do appreciate the sentiment. It's… You said you don't trust magic users with your pack."

Peter froze, regarding Stiles with wide, intrigued eyes. Chris furrowed his brows, wishing his husband was still sitting next to him so he could take Peter's hand.

"You're a… magic user," Peter tilted his head. "That's why you knew we don't have wards."

"Ye—eah," Stiles sighed wistfully, tilting his head back to stare at the ceiling. "Drives me up the wall that not even your pack house has wards. Are you even able to sleep at night?"

"Whatever do you mean," Peter raised an eyebrow again.

"Your last pack house was burned down," Stiles pointed out, looking at the Alpha. "How… How do you sleep at night knowing your home isn't protected against that? I'm sorry. That was intrusive."

"I feel like we made you bare enough of yourself at this point to justify the question," Peter chuckled darkly. "I… often don't sleep well, but there is nothing I can do about it."

"Yeah," Stiles huffed. "And that's what I mean. You don't trust magic users to put up simple wards. I didn't see me asking to join your pack go over well."

"I don't trust magic users," Peter nodded slowly. "Strangers I have never met. I know you, Stiles. You're not just a magic user, you're… Stiles. Though I would like to know what you are first."

Stiles licked his lips, Chris watching the motion enraptured. Pink tongue on pink, bow-shaped lips. He ground his teeth together. How was this boy that tempting? Lifting a hand, Stiles wiggled his fingers around until blue sparks twirled around them, like electricity. His eyes glowed a vibrant turquoise, intense and intimidating in a way Chris didn't even feel about Alpha eyes. Perhaps because he'd been raised as a hunter to not fear wolves. This? Chris had never seen before.

"I'm a Spark," Stiles declared, balling a fist and letting the sparks extinguish.

Both Lydia and Peter sucked in a breath at that. The smartest members of their pack, the ones who hoarded knowledge. Chris raised his eyebrows at Peter and the greedy look on his mate's face.

"A Spark," Peter's voice was strangled. "You're telling me your pack had a Spark who was also Pack Mom and they let you get away? How stupid was your Alpha?"

It earned him a startled laugh from Stiles. "So… You… You don't mind?"

"Mind?" Peter laughed stunned. "I do mind human magic users. There is too much… greed in most of them. They borrow magic from nature, they want more and more, they are ambitious. But you? What more could you possibly want? You are magic."

His words put a pretty blush on Stiles' cheeks and confused looks onto their betas' faces.

"Most magic users," Lydia started to explain. "Are humans, and the magic is learned. Witches, mages, druids. They take magic from the source, from nature. Through sacrifices, rituals, spells, by using natural ingredients in potions. They don't have magic, they only borrow it. That's what Peter says with greedy. Without any power of their own, they work hard to hone their skills to be able to take more and more magic. Sparks are the only natural magic users in existence. They don't have to borrow, they are born with a spark of magic in their soul – hence the name."

"That's awesome," Cora commented, staring at Stiles in surprise.

"So you… wouldn't mind…" Stiles stared at Peter with such hopeful eyes.

"Stiles," Chris spoke and suddenly stood. "I'd like to speak to you, for a moment."

The boy wasn't the only one who looked confused at that. Only Peter and Derek heaved resigned sighs, knowing what Chris was thinking. With a short nod did Stiles follow Chris into the kitchen.

"You mind a magic user in your pack?" Stiles asked in a small voice, bracing himself.

"No," Chris sighed. "I… Before you decide to join our pack, there is something that you need to know, about… me. So you can make an informed decision on joining our pack. I'm…"

"Christopher Argent," Stiles supplied when Chris struggled for too long. "I know."

Chris froze, staring at the boy like Chris was the prey in front of a hunter for a change. He could hear how quiet it had gotten in the dining room, knowing the wolves were all listening in on the conversation. Swallowing hard, Chris straightened himself and nodded.

"Yes," Chris confirmed, a pained expression on his face. "How did you… You didn't…"

"Oh, no. I didn't know," Stiles chuckled dryly. "Honestly, your weird reaction to my trauma dump at the Silver Moon, I thought that was you being worried about your mate since all that trauma is also his trauma, in a way. I only realized later. I mean, I knew about you, after all. Gerard's prodigal son Christopher, he kept talking about you in his damn basement. How the Hales had taken his son. I figured, at the time, that meant you were dead. But between your weird reaction, the fact that your entire pack had taken up stalking me while you seemed to make it a point to stay as far away from me as humanly possible – and I did test that theory – and the fact that you… really look a lot like your sister, I mean, the bone-structure? You clearly both take more after your mother than your father, but the family resemblance is there. Once I had my wits about me, I put it together."

"But you still came to our home," Chris looked at Stiles in confusion. "My home."

"You're not your father. Or your sister. Or your… ex-wife," Stiles snorted. "You didn't shoot me, torture me or try to poison my best friend. You held me through a fucking panic-attack and were the first person since my dad died who actually managed to sooth me through it. Isaac's trying, bless his heart, but he always panics a little himself when he sees me like that."

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest, regarding Chris with a softness Chris didn't feel he deserved. "You left. You turned your back on your family and on their… activities. Heck, you got married to a werewolf and you're the Alpha Mate of a pack now. I'm not holding you responsible for a last name you used to carry. You did trade it in for Hale, after all."

All Chris managed was a brief nod, not trusting his voice. Stiles offered him the kindest smile before he headed back out of the kitchen. Chris found himself unable not to follow. The eyes of the entire pack and Isaac were on them. Peter stood to walk to his mate and pull Chris into a warm, comforting hug like he was trying to say I told you so in a gentle manner. Huffing softly, Chris leaned into his mate for a moment, soaking up the warmth and comfort. When they parted, Stiles was staring at them intensely. And then the boy bared his throat.

"Alpha Hale," Stiles spoke in an even and calm voice. "Will you accept me into your pack?"

Within a moment, Peter was on the boy, holding him by the upper arms and burying his face in Stiles' neck, blunt teeth sinking into the soft flesh. Chris watched, watched with wary eyes. He wanted Stiles to be a part of their pack, but he felt like this was just going to be an additional layer of complication to this whole situation. Peter growled, primal and pleased, and Chris knew he had to hold back the whispered mine that he wanted to say so desperately.

"Stiles," Isaac growled in frustration. "That's just cheating."

Stiles actually cackled, once Peter let go of him. "What. You are free to make your own choice, pup. But I… I want to be in this pack. I don't think I've wanted anything that badly since… in a long time. I'm kind of done being denied the things I want, so if it's offered, I'll take it."

"You are still free to get to know us first before you make your decision, Isaac," Peter offered.

The way Stiles bit his lips at that and grinned got Chris' attention. "You are dad-ing him, you're using your dad-voice on him, oh gosh that's adorable. You totally grew attached already."

Peter gave the most offended look at that but Chris had to agree. That was the warm and careful voice he usually had reserved to their pups. The story of the young, abused orphan who'd then lost the only good father figure he had in his life must have really gotten to Peter.

"He's right," Allison giggled. "You totally used your dad voice."

That put an actual blush on Peter's cheeks. Chris was so charmed, he pulled his husband into a kiss.

"We're having weekly breakfasts for the pack, every Monday in the Silver Moon café that Boyd and Erica own. And weekly pack dinners every Friday here," Chris offered, looking at Isaac. "How about you come with Stiles, no strings attached for now, and then make a decision?"

Isaac nodded reluctantly, frowning at them like he didn't know what to do with offered kindness. It made Chris' heart clench and he understood why the kid woke Peter's dad instincts.

/break\

Stiles woke up six days later with a pulsing pressure behind his eyes, a sore throat and an overall ache in the muscles and his joints. Something had woken him up. Blinking blearily, he reached for the offending thing, realizing it was his phone.

"What," Stiles croaked annoyed as he accepted the call.

"It is nine o'clock," Peter's voice sounded agitated on the other end. "I got concerned when you were ten minutes late, at this point I am furious. You have to call me and let me know when you run late, Stiles, you can not just-"

"What," Stiles blinked sluggishly and pulled his phone away enough to check the time. "Fuck."

"Stiles?" Peter asked, concerned now. "Tell me what's going on."

Rolling onto his back, Stiles heaved a sigh. "I think I might be sick. I didn't even hear my alarm. Or the… shit… six other times that you already called. There's even two missed calls from Lydia."

He could hear Peter taking a deep breath. "Sick. Okay. Good."

"Well, fuck you too," Stiles said before even thinking about it. "Shit. Sorry. Don't say fuck you to your boss or your Alpha, much less both."

"I meant good in the sense of 'nothing supernatural has killed or kidnapped you'," Peter offered amused. "Is Isaac with you to take care of you?"

"Nah, the pup's left for work even before I was supposed to wake up," Stiles groaned. "I'm sorry I won't be able to get in for work today and I'm sorry I didn't call ahead of time. I swear it was just a light headache last night, I didn't think it'd get this bad this fast. Fuck."

"How bad is it, sweetheart?" Peter's voice gentled.

"I don't even think I can get out of this damn bed," Stiles muttered frustrated. "I haven't felt this much like shit since I last severely drained my magic. I'm just gonna… sleep. Night, Peter."

He disconnected the call before the Alpha could say anything else and then he closed his eyes and gave himself to wonderful, blissful sleep. Dreamless too, what a delight. The next time he woke up, it was because there were voices. In his apartment. Multiple ones.

"Okay, I'm getting the soup heated up. You lot check on Stiles, see if he needs something."

Was that Allison? Why was Allison in his apartment? Was he having hallucinations? When he opened his eyes, he came face to face with Cora and Jackson, both leaning over him. What the fuck. He let out a slight scream, scrambling a bit.

"H… How did you even get in here and what are you doing here? What the fuck."

"Peter texted that you're sick," Cora tilted her head. "You reek and you look awful."

"Don't mind her. Born wolves can be bitchy about human sickness," Jackson snickered. "C'mon, up you go, Stilinski. Time for a shower because she is rude but not wrong."

"You didn't answer either of my questions," Stiles pointed out as he was hauled up.

"Peter told us, or well the entire pack, to check on you," Cora supplied. "Everyone else was busy at work, but Jackson doesn't have classes today and Allison and I both had a break between our own college classes so the three of us volunteered to go check on you."

Stiles blinked sluggishly at he while the two wolves more or less carried him toward the bathroom. "And how did you get inside. Isaac's not home to let you in."

"Isaac not being home is why we're here," Jackson rolled his eyes. "You're sick. Someone has to take care of you. Jesus fuck, that bathroom is tiny. Cora? Bow out and help Ally?"

Cora frowned. "I'll go and change Stiles' sheets so his bed won't reek."

"Also a good idea," Jackson shrugged while maneuvering Stiles around. "You good?"

Stiles stared up at the wolf in confusion. "Why are you doing this."

"Because we're pack," Jackson frowned back at him. "Pack takes care of each other. When one of us is injured or one of our non-wolves is sick, we make a schedule so someone is always taking care of them. Granted, you not living at the pack house makes that a little more complicated. Also how are you living like this, this place is depressing. My closet is bigger than your apartment."

Stiles looked at Jackson. "Fuck you too. It's all two waiters could afford. Once I have a couple months in as Peter's assistant, I'll be able to afford us a better apartment."

"Or, wild idea, you could just move into the pack house, since you're pack."

Stiles froze at the offer, staring at Jackson in confused surprise. No. Right? No.

"Get in the shower, Stilinski," Jackson ordered, turning away to give Stiles some privacy.

Getting undressed, Stiles went into their tiny shower cabin. Okay. Yeah. Getting rid of the cold sweat on his body was nice, Jackson was right with that. When he was clean and got out, Jackson handed him a towel. There were also fresh clothes in Jackson's hands now.

"Peter didn't have to send you and disrupt your day," Stiles sighed. "I'm fine. I've been taking care of myself since I was eight, I know how to handle a little cold."

"Peter didn't do shit, he just told us. We volunteered on our own," Jackson frowned at him, looking annoyed. "Like I said, pack takes care of each other. We don't need our Alpha to order us to do that. Now get dressed, Allison says that the soup's warm. Boyd made it."

Stiles struggled a little with getting dressed and he was grateful that Jackson didn't comment on it. Instead, the other boy remained patiently waiting and watching him. Then, he wrapped an arm around Stiles' waist and pulled him close to help him out of the bathroom.

"Hey, Stiles," Allison smiled warmly at him. "How do you feel?"

"Chewed up and spit out," Stiles offered dryly, sitting down on one of the chairs. "Sorry for the lack of seats. We don't usually have need for more than two chairs. We don't have guests."

A bowl of soup was put in front of him and a cup of tea was placed next to it. Allison's phone buzzed and she stared at it with a fondly amused look, shaking her head.

"What does your dad want," Stiles asked warily.

Allison looked up at him in surprise. "How did you..."

"Sheriff's son. I observe," Stiles shrugged. "You got a special look on your face for when your dad's texting you. I somehow have a feeling this one's about me though."

"Yeah, he is suggesting to kidnap you if you don't come to the pack house willingly."

"Naturally," Stiles ate his soup. "I'm not coming. I can take care of myself."

"Is he still saying that," Cora sounded so annoyed. "Tell him he's being stupid! Just because he can take care of himself doesn't mean he has to. He has a pack now."

"I don't know why she wants us to tell you that on account of her yelling," Jackson snorted.

Stiles furrowed his brows as he looked between the other three. He didn't really get this.

"You really don't have to do this," Stiles spoke softly. "I'm okay."

"I need you to explain to me why you're struggling with this so much," Allison requested in a gentle voice, sitting down opposite Stiles. "You have been in a pack before. I mean, we know it didn't end well, but you guys must have been in the same pack for years."

Stiles stared at her blankly. "None of us knew shit. We were winging it. They all struggled with their instincts, with following their instincts. I strong-armed my way into caring for them and trying to provide what a pack actually needed. I took care of them."

"But… they didn't take care of you," Allison read between the lines.

With a half-shrug did Stiles return his attention to his soup. "I more or less accidentally became Pack Mom by taking care of them all. And they did accept that. But yeah."

"That's not right," Cora looked actually pained. "Pack Moms take care of the pack. And the pack takes care of their Pack Mom. They should be cherished and loved and if they're not feeling well, the pack should be tripping over each other trying to help!"

A small smile spread over Stiles' lips and without thinking on it, he reached out to ruffle Cora's hair, rubbing his hand against her cheek after to scent mark her. "That's a nice sentiment. But that's not how things work when you're a bunch of traumatized kids without a manual. You wing it."

"Okay, well, our pack doesn't wing shit," Jackson glared at him. "So get used to it. Also, if you refuse to come to the pack house with us, I will literally just knock you out and carry you there like a sack of potatoes. Partially because if we don't bring you back home, our Alphas are probably going to break in here next and drag you back with them."

"So you did break in," Stiles frowned displeased. "Tell me you didn't break the lock though because I am so going to have to pay for that out of pocket and I do not have the money for that."

Jackson made a show of rolling his eyes and flexing his claws. "Peter taught us how to pick locks with our claws. It is a very practical skill. Now, what's your answer."

Stiles heaved an exasperated sigh and tilted his head back. "Being dragged to the pack house by you lot is less humiliating than having the Alphas kick in my door, I suppose."

He sullenly let the trio lead the way downstairs to where Jackson's definitely-compensating-for-something Porsche stood and allowed the beta to drive him to their home, where he found himself herded into what looked like a guest room – how were there empty bedrooms in a house where ten people lived? Allison even tucked him in and kissed his forehead with a smile.

"Cora and I have to get back to class. You, rest. Someone else is going to come soon."

"Because Stiles needs more than one babysitter," Stiles muttered annoyed.

"Because our pack takes care of each other," Allison corrected, still smiling. "Get used to it."

Stiles grumbled to himself and rolled over. He hadn't realized just how tired he was until he was in this way too comfortable bed with the soft sheets and suddenly, he was out like a candle. The really startling thing was when he woke up though, because his face was resting on a very comfortable, strong chest, heaving with slow, calm breaths. When Stiles looked up, Peter was smiling down at him. Blinking dazed, Stiles next realized there were arms around his waist, a body pressed against his from behind. Turning his head ever so slightly, he looked at Chris. Too many of his dreams had started out like that in recent weeks. However, the bed was a little more crowded than in his usual dreams. Isaac and Cora were draped over all three of them, Isaac curled so his head was resting on Stiles, while Cora was sprawled out over their legs. Tucked against Peter's side were Derek, Boyd and Erica, Erica resting with her head on Stiles' calves, curled small so her legs were pressed against Boyd, who had his head resting on Peter's torso, just like Derek. Craning his neck, Stiles saw Allison, Lydia and Jackson mirroring their position on Chris' side of the bed.

"Good evening, Sleeping Beauty," Peter whispered gently.

"How fucking strong is this bed," Stiles asked baffled, ignoring the Alpha.

"Please," Jackson snickered. "These beds have to endure two werewolves fucking on them."

"What are you all doing in here," Stiles asked next, also ignoring Jackson because he did absolutely not need to think about sex while sharing a bed with a pack of werewolves.

"You're sick, doll," Chris' voice was rough and pleasant when it huffed against his ear like that.

"You and your daughter are equally bad at answering questions," Stiles replied dryly.

"You need comfort," Erica pointed out. "We're comforting you. Obviously."

"Right," Stiles swallowed the sarcastic comment and the lump in his throat.

"Your old pack really didn't do that for you?" Boyd asked with a frown. "Cora said, but…"

He had a hand encircling his mate's ankle, thumb gently caressing it. It was such a casual gesture, done thoughtlessly, that it made Stiles feel a strange sense of longing. He also swallowed that.

"No," Stiles shook his head. "They broke into my bedroom when they needed something – advise, help, comfort – but… not… No. People don't sneak into my bed to comfort me. Isaac doesn't count. We're literally sharing a bed due to limited space so there's no sneaking."

Isaac snickered at that, which reminded Stiles. "What are you doing here anyway, pup."

Without thinking on it, he reached out to entangle his fingers in Isaac's hair, petting and scent-marking at the same time. Isaac made that rumbling sound that Stiles had been forbidden from calling purring (but that absolutely totally was purring. Wolves were just oversized cats).

"Erica texted me that you're sick and Cora texted me that they brought you here and Jackson texted me that everyone from the pack was busy so I should come over and share his shift with him," Isaac replied. "Someone must have stolen my phone during that breakfast on Monday."

"Nope," Erica grinned broadly. "Already stole it on Friday already to get your number."

Shaking his head, Stiles eased back down, acutely aware of the fact that his current pillow was the very muscular and well-defined chest of his boss and Alpha. His heart jumped a little and he tried to distract himself with other thoughts. When had someone last crawled into his bed to comfort him…? Was it his mom? No, right, that couldn't… Oh. Stiles blinked away tears. Right.

He subconsciously reached for Isaac's hand and linked fingers with him. The wolves had clearly picked up on his change of mood because there was a tenseness and a stillness to them now, whereas they'd been laying relaxed and comfortable just a moment ago. They all, in some way, reached out for him, touching him gently. Reassuring but also asking what was wrong.

"I just…" Stiles wavered a little. "I just remembered the last time someone did sneak into my bed just to comfort me and it… It was Scott, after my mom had died, his mom used to check in on us, make sure my dad didn't drink himself into an early grave and I ate more than just fast food. While she'd clean out the empty bottles, he… he'd sneak into my bed and he held me while I cried."

Stiles swallowed bitterly. "I miss him. I miss who we used to be. I know we're not these little kids anymore, I don't… I don't miss the him that we left behind when we left Beacon Hills, but I miss the person he used to be, before. Before he became an Alpha and gained a superiority complex."

"Yeah," Isaac whispered, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "I miss that version of him too. And it's… it's okay to miss that. To miss the good, even if you know there was bad. You told me that, when I told you I sometimes miss my dad."

"I know," Stiles sighed and closed his eyes tightly. "How fucked up is it that we were more of a pack before we had an Alpha, than after…? I miss that, I miss us."

"Would it… help to talk about it?" Chris asked. "We'd like to learn more about your old pack, to get to know both of you better. So far, you haven't spoken about them at all, Stiles."

"You don't have to, if it's too painful," Derek pointed out gruffly.

No, actually, he thought he might want to talk about them. Talk about the good, remember how it used to be. Because he didn't regret it, any of it. It had been good, they had been good, at one point.

"There was a rogue Alpha," Stiles whispered. "Scotty and I, we were best friends. Inseparable. Brothers by anything but blood. It was always just him and me, before then. And then the Alpha came to Beacon Hills. They'd torn up tourists, only leaving… torn bodies behind. I… I figured it'd be an exciting thing for us to go looking for the missing pieces in the woods."

"You what," Lydia sounded so indignant.

"I was a fifteen year old teen boy with access to the police radar," Stiles defended himself. "In a town where the most exciting thing to happen in years had been a bank robbery five years prior. Yeah, I thought that was exciting. Scott… We were supposed to leave again but he'd lost his inhaler and he went looking for it and the Alpha… got him. Bit him. Turned him."

Stiles bit his lip. "It was my fault, I'd dragged him out there."

"I told you so often," Isaac sighed. "It's not. Scott made his own choices."

"Either way, he ended up a werewolf," Stiles sighed, leaning his head back against Chris' shoulder. "I dug myself a research hole, finding out anything there was about werewolves, trying to figure out how to help him, how to… fix this. Or at least make it better."

"So the two of you started your pack?" Peter asked intrigued.

He had an arm leisurely reaching out to caress Stiles' arm. "Yeah, more or less. There was this girl, Kira. She'd only just moved to Beacon Hills, the day before Scott got turned. And the two of them, well, they kind of… they fell hard and fast, it was ridiculous. Kira was a sweetheart, she figured the best way to get Scott's attention was to help so when she noticed I kept doing research on werewolves, she did her own research. She thought we were into some fantasy game."

Stiles huffed softly, smiling as he remembered those early days, the puppy love between Scott and Kira. "And then came Mal. Malia. She was… She was a born were-coyote, but she didn't actually know. Since she was adopted by humans. But after Scott got bitten, she got her first whiff of the supernatural and it woke her instincts and suddenly, I had a wolf and a coyote at my hands."

It was easier to relax now, a smile on his face as he thought about Malia. "She was… really bad at all of this, but in a different way than Scott. Where Scott fought his every instinct, Malia fully embraced whatever her coyote told her, which… doesn't go over too well in human society."

Stiles' eyes landed on Isaac, asking without words if Isaac wanted to continue. The blonde swallowed but he nodded. His grip on Stiles' hand tightened a little bit, pulling it closer.

"The Alpha killed my father, tore him apart, and turned me. I don't know if they wanted to do that, I think they meant to kill me too. Or maybe they didn't mean to do anything, they were completely feral," Isaac frowned. "We… never figured out who they were, in human form I mean. They just left carnage in their wake before getting killed."

"Yeah, so when Isaac's dad died from a 'mountain lion attack' and Isaac was left without a scratch?" Stiles raised both eyebrows. "I figured that was the Alpha and that Isaac had been turned. That his healing took care of everything. The thought of having a second freshly turned wolf in Beacon Hills who had no idea how to control themselves was a lot unsettling, so I pleaded with my dad that we should foster Isaac, so I could keep an eye on him."

Stiles grinned down at Isaac and rubbed his thumb over the back of the other boy's hand. "And, yeah. That was us. That was our pack when we first started out. Scott, Kira, Malia, Isaac and me. Just five scared teenagers with no idea what we were even doing, no Alpha or adult to guide us."

"Kira, she was human?" Boyd asked curiously.

Both Isaac and Stiles snorted at that, earning confusion before Stiles could clarify. "We thought she was human. Spent our fight against the Alpha Pack and the Argents thinking she was human-"

"Alpha Pack?" Peter and Chris interrupted sharply.

"-but after that, when the…" Stiles swallowed hard. "During my possession, we learned that her and her mother were actually kitsune. Her mom had been the one to lock the Nogitsune away in the first place and she had come back to make sure it'd stay locked away… That… didn't work out."

"I'll repeat: Alpha Pack?" Peter gave him a pointed look.

"Oh. Yeah. Pack of Alphas," Stiles shrugged. "Apparently, the rogue Alpha who'd come to town had been a member of theirs. The Alpha Pack gains power by killing all their betas. This one, apparently, had been driven mad by the act and ran off, ending up in Beacon Hills. The Alpha Pack came after them to clean up. For reasons beyond our comprehension, they sensed that Scott was a True Alpha, so they stuck around and helped… force it out of Scott. They wanted him to join their pack, but we… We beat them, with some help from the inside. Two of the Alphas turned on their pack and instead joined out pack, Aiden and Ethan, giving up their Alpha spark in the process."

"Your lives were wild," Jackson commented startled. "And I thought ours was fucked up."

Lydia reached out for him, gently comforting him with a concerned expression and Stiles sensed that there was some trauma of their own hidden behind that. Interesting. He didn't prod.

"Yeah," Stiles cleared his throat. "Alpha Pack, leaving us with two new pack members and a newly gained True Alpha, who then drew the attention of the Argents. After the Argents came the Nogitsune. And then came the phase where Scott wanted to really build out the pack, turning new betas and accepting… Theo, and… here we are."

He made a flourished gesture, a sharp, jagged smile on his lips. Suddenly, he felt exhausted again. All the memories doing their part too. He snuggled back down against Peter's chest, rubbing his nose along the man's collarbone. Peter was really comfortable. And Chris against his back felt nice too. Protective. Nothing could stab him in the back while a prolific hunter was literally curled against his back like that. His eyelids felt heavy and he gave in to the temptation of sleep.

/break\

"These kids went through far too much at too young an age," Chris muttered, a devastated look on his face as he stared down at Stiles' sleeping face. "He said him and Isaac ran away because they were seventeen, which means all of that happened in the span of two years."

"Yes," Peter furrowed his own brows, gently brushing Stiles' hair out of his face. "You're right."

"You know I'm literally also in the room," Isaac grumbled, though he sounded sleepy.

He gave the most half-hearted glare Peter had ever seen, amusing the Alpha. Damn it, Peter really was growing attached to the pup. He'd taken offense to everyone's mockery of him using a 'dad voice' on Isaac last week, but he was starting to think they might be right.

"Everyone is in the room," Lydia pointed out helpfully. "We have such a huge house yet we are all crammed into Stiles' bed. If my back hurts tomorrow, one of you is taking my pain."

It earned her good natured snickering from the wolves in the room. Stiles heaved a soft sigh in his sleep and nuzzled even closer against Peter. It made the Alpha's heart clench ever so slightly. How had he grown this attached to the boy in such a short time? Shaking his head, he turned to look at his mate. Just to find Chris staring at Stiles with the fondest expression. Ah. A small smile tugged on Peter's lips. At least he wasn't the only one smitten with the Spark.

"You should be careful," Isaac noted after a few minutes of companionable silence. "Stiles had… really bad nightmares. Mostly about the possession."

So he'll thrash around?" Cora guessed, brows furrowed.

Isaac gave a snort in reply. "He's pure magic. His nightmares come with… different… side-effects. One time, there was a whole thunderstorm brewing in our bedroom. Another, he set the bed on fire. His magic lashes out, trying to protect him. Or maybe he is lashing out with his magic, afraid he'll lose touch to it again. The Nogitsune, it chose him as its vessel because of his magic, it… used Stiles' magic to sustain itself. That's why he couldn't use his magic to fight it off."

"I did meant to ask about that," Peter hummed, looking concerned. "What do you do? When he has a nightmare and magically lashes out? How do we calm him down?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Isaac heaved a sigh. "I make him count his fingers. You don't have ten fingers in a dream, you usually have too many. I try to reassure him that he's awake and that this is real, but it sometimes takes him a while to believe."

Peter made a small noise of acknowledgment, his mind racing. A thunderstorm inside? How powerful was Stiles? Controlling the weather was advanced, even for a Spark. They could usually influence the elements, summon them and bend them, but there was a difference between a fire ball in the hand and a full, uncontained storm. His touch gentled as he kept caressing Stiles' hair.

"I have a question about Stiles' powers," Lydia piped up. "Sparks are bound to a land. Does… he still have magical powers here, in London? There is an ocean between us and Beacon Hills."

"Beats me," Isaac shrugged. "He said it was weird too. He'd fully been prepared to lose his magic when we boarded the plane two years ago, but… He still has his magic. It's weaker than it used to be, but Stiles keeps attributing that to the possession too, that the Nogitsune maybe drained him in a more lasting manner and he won't regain his magic."

"Peter," Stiles mumbled, voice sleepy.

He gently patted Peter's chest, making the Alpha smile. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"No, I mean, Peter," Stiles patted his chest again. "That's how."

"Yeah, I think we're gonna need more than that, doll," Chris chuckled amused.

Stiles stretched in a very cat-like manner and yawned. "Peter's the Hale Alpha. The Hale Pack swore an oath to the Nemeton, to protect the lands of Beacon Hills many… many centuries ago. By leaving Beacon Hills, Peter became an oath-breaker, but he is still tied to the Nemeton. I am an oath-breaker, for leaving Beacon Hills. It's like a… second hand link? Or at least that's what I figured since I realized who you really are. We are both sworn to the same Nemeton. But the Hale Pack has had that tie for so many centuries – your Alpha spark is coated in kept promises and magic and the very essence of Beacon Hills. Even without knowing you were in London, I think that my spark reacted to your spark and that that's how I still have my magic. Because of you."

Peter raised his eyebrows surprised at that. He knew of the oath, of course. Every Hale wolf did. The first Hale to come to Beacon Hills had sworn a blood-oath to the Nemeton to protect its lands if it in return protected them. And Sparks, Peter knew, were chosen by the respective Nemeton. The three of them were inherently linked, but Peter hadn't thought that it was a three way link, he'd always assumed the Nemeton was the only thing tying the pack to the Spark.

"I made Scott an Alpha," Stiles whispered, barely audible. "Because our pack needed an Alpha. Because my lands needed an Alpha. Because there was no Hale Pack anymore. I forged Scott's Alpha spark from my own, I forged it in the fires of my magic and shaped it with my belief. Not that I knew I was doing it at the time, I barely knew I had any magic at all, much less that I'd be capable of something like that. It was… instinct. The Nemeton needs a Spark and a pack."

"You're marvelous," Peter whispered, staring at the young Spark.

"I'm an idiot," Stiles countered with a twisted expression on his face. "Scotty was too young, too inexperienced, too out of tune with his wolf. I believed in him because I believed in the little boy who'd been my brother. But there's no changing the past."

He heaved a defeated sigh, leaning back. Peter regarded him thoughtfully. So young and yet so burdened. Life had really dealt Stiles a bad hand and Peter was determined to do whatever was in his ability to change that. To lift some of that burden off of Stiles.

"Guess that makes all three of us oath-breakers then," Peter offered a warped smile of his own. "Since the Nemeton didn't protect us either, mh?"

He ran his fingers along the shape of Stiles' face, delighting in the way Stiles leaned into the touch. "...I guess you're not wrong. Beacon Hills is just too fucked up a place, I guess."

"That much is for sure," Peter grunted out a laugh.

Stiles twisted between them, so he was laying on his back and staring up at the ceiling. "Peter? I'm not asking you to make me your Emissary, but I am asking you to let me put wards up. For this house, for the café, for the firm. I heard Isaac, telling you about my nightmares. I can not burn down your house because I accidentally had a bad dream. You need to let me do this."

"Darling, I was going to ask you tomorrow during pack night anyway," Peter chuckled amused. "You're part of our pack now. And you expressed discomfort at the lack of wards before you were pack. I don't make a habit of making my pack uncomfortable if there is anything I can do to avoid it. Besides, the lack of wards is due to a lack of magic users I can trust. And that has changed."

Stiles' breath hitched and he chanced a glance at Peter. "You… trust me? I mean, my magic. I do get that you trust me, as a person, otherwise you wouldn't have invited me into your pack. But…"

"I trust you, as a person," Peter shrugged casually. "Your magic is part of you."

Stiles tilted his head, giving Peter the most wondrous look. It was soft and vulnerable and it made Peter's heart ache horribly. Suddenly, the boy sat up, disrupting everyone and causing some displeased grunts all around. Not that Stiles minded, he just tried to scramble off the bed.

"Not right now, Mieczysław," Peter stated sternly, grabbing Stiles by the back of his shirt.

The boy froze in his grasp, gasping. His head snapped over so suddenly, there was a crack.

"What did you just say," Stiles sounded breathless, stunned.

"Not right now," Peter repeated pointedly. "You still have a mild fever. You're sick."

"No, not that part," Stiles frowned at him, even as he turned around and adjusted himself (ending up in Chris' lap, not that Chris looked like he minded). "The other part."

It took Peter a moment to understand, to remember what exactly he had said. "...Your name? I apologize if I mispronounced it, I admit my Polish is not entirely fluent. But I do think that stern warnings work better with full first names instead of nicknames."

"Say. It. Again," Stiles' voice had a near pleading edge.

"Mieczysław," Peter said softly, making sure to pronounce it to his best abilities.

"Wait, that is your name," Isaac asked bewildered. "That's what that sounds like?"

"What kind of question is that, haven't you two been friends for five years," Lydia wanted to know.

"He just goes by Stiles," Isaac shrugged. "I mean, I know his name, in theory, like, I read it on his ID before, when we were still stateside but… I didn't know how to say that like there is a c followed by a z for some reason and there was a squiggly line over one letter?"

Peter huffed out a laugh at Isaac's face, but he went quiet when he saw the near desperate look on Stiles' face, eyes shining with tears. Peter had no idea what to make of that expression.

"Both my parents were second generation Polish immigrants. But my dad's parents took the 'fully integrate and shed your native culture' approach to immigration so my dad never learned the language, or how to… pronounce stuff. My mom was the only one who could pronounce it," Stiles whispered, blinking away the tears. "Nobody's said my name in twelve years."

"What," Chris' voice actually croaked at that.

Stiles shrugged, folding himself a little smaller. "You only go through so many butchered, stumbling attempts from teachers before you interrupt them and tell them that Stiles is just fine, until at one point, people stop trying. And you stop expecting them to try. So I'm just Stiles. And it never really bothered me, I never really… I didn't notice. Until Peter just said it. I forgot… what it feels like when someone actually says my name."

"Oh, Mieczysław," Peter's voice was gentle, as was his touch when he cupped Stiles' cheek.

"I want to know how to say it," Isaac declared, determination on his face.

"Me too," Allison chimed in, raising her hand.

Most of the pack agreed, aside from Lydia, who simply raised a perfect eyebrow at them. "I am fluent in Polish, I know how to pronounce Mieczysław."

"Of course she's fluent in Polish," Erica muttered beneath her breath. "Probably got bored on a rainy Sunday afternoon and decided to learn it, huh."

"It was a Tuesday, but yes," Lydia raised her chin.

Stiles laughed, voice hiccuping with tears as he looked at them. "You people are ridiculous. First, you break into my apartment, then you kidnap me, just to smother me in a puppy pile and now this. What am I going to do with you lot."

"Love us," Erica declared, a broad, shameless grin on her lips.

"Yeah," Stiles' voice turned more raw and genuine. "I think I can do that."

The vulnerability and honesty in his voice turned Erica's little joke into something much more heartfelt. The next moment, the betas practically tackled Stiles in a tight hug, smothering him in werewolves. Peter's eyes were soft as he watched his pack.

/break\

Pack dinner the next day was chicken noodle soup, on account of their still sick Spark. Even though Stiles seemed much more alert and active than he had on Thursday. When Peter had called Chris and told him that Stiles was too exhausted to get out of bed, Chris had been able to hear the worry. His wolf always struggled with human sicknesses, because it wasn't something they could help with. Injuries, the wolves could at least leech off the pain. Not to mention that born wolves had no concept of most sickness so they truly couldn't grasp what it was like. It was a little endearing.

Friday morning, Chris and Allison took care of Stiles, since her classes only started at noon and Chris had decided to close the shop for the day so he could watch over Stiles, which he knew soothed his mate a lot too. As much as Peter trusted their betas, he always felt better when Chris was there to take care of important matters personally. Stiles had become an important matter.

Saturday, most of the pack just curled around Stiles as they spent a lazy day in. Watching a movie marathon of Lord of the Rings together on Stiles' bed. Chris' back was hurting on Sunday but he had enjoyed the closeness to his pack, had enjoyed this first proper bonding experience with both Stiles and Isaac, who hadn't left the pack house since Thursday either, aside from for work on Friday. The pup hadn't accepted his own room, not leaving Stiles' side, but he was here.

Chris smiled to himself as he watched Isaac, sitting on one of the barstools, his legs folded beneath his body. He was leaning against the bar, reaching over to steal bits off of Erica's plate, with the blonde occasionally smacking his hand away in the most half-hearted manner. Erica was sitting perched on Boyd's lap, her mate having his arms around her waist, watching them amused.

"Is there breakfast? Ple—ease tell me there is breakfast," Stiles groaned as he walked into the room.

"Here," Isaac handed him his own cup of coffee without even looking up.

"Tha—ank you, pup," Stiles kissed Isaac's temple and then downed the whole cup.

"You continue terrifying me, Batman," Erica commented. "There is more coffee."

She motioned at the coffee machine and Stiles immediately went there to fill his cup again and then downed it. Chris made a face. He approached the boy and took the cup from him before Stiles could go for the third one. The cutest little whine escaped Stiles and Chris nearly caved.

"You need food in you, doll," Chris declared sternly. "Eat something and then I'll consider if you can have another cup. Sit down, tell me what you want, I'll make it for you."

"No, you don't have to," Stiles frowned. "I feel better. I can make my own food."

Cora walked into the kitchen and growled as she caught the tail-end of the conversation. She simply grabbed Stiles around the waist and carried him over to the bar to sit him down before she also sat down herself, fixing him with a stern glare. It made Chris smile fondly, just how much this bothered Cora. Which was understandable, considering she was a born wolf.

"You will have to learn to accept that this pack takes care of each other," Derek declared from the corner where he was reading the newspaper. "Cora is going to forcibly love you until you do."

Predictably, Cora growled and threw a piece of banana at her brother's head. Stiles heaved a sigh and sneakily reached out for Boyd's cup of coffee. Chris used the spatula to push the cup away from Stiles and closer to Boyd, giving Stiles a very serious glare.

"Be good," Chris warned. "You're getting scrambled eggs and you will eat them."

Ducking his head, Stiles got more comfortable. "Bossy Alpha Mate."

"We have a rotation on cooking," Boyd offered. "Well. The members of the pack who can cook. Erica, as much as I love her, is absolutely not allowed to do anything in the kitchen."

"Neither is Lydia," Jackson added when him and his mate walked in.

"Oh, please," Lydia narrowed her eyes at him. "You're only allowed to make toast."

"Which is more than you are allowed to do, babe," Jackson smirked.

While Chris cooked, the rest of the pack started filing in until they were all comfortably sprawled out around the kitchen table and the bar. Peter pressed a kiss to the corner of Chris' mouth before finding a seat next to Stiles. Chris observed that with a sparkle in his eyes.

"How do you feel today, Stiles?" Allison asked concerned.

"Good," Stiles tilted his head and stole a piece of banana from Cora's muesli bowl. "Maybe still a little tired, but the headache's gone, the fever is gone and my stomach has settled too."

Chris grunted pleased and piled scrambled eggs onto a plate that he put in front of Stiles. "Eat."

"Evil," Stiles narrowed his eyes at him with a cute pout. "Just gimme my coffee."

At Peter's raised eyebrow did Chris roll his eyes. "He downed two coffees and went for a third. I insisted that he eat first before he gets any more coffee. That makes me evil, apparently."

"Mieczysław," Peter's voice was a low purr. "How about a deal?"

Stiles looked at him suspiciously. "Does it entail more coffee for me?"

"No," Peter chuckled. "Though, perhaps yes. The deal's simple. If I let you put up the wards-"

Stiles bucked up with a devastated look. "You already promised me that I could do that!"

"-then you and Isaac will move in," Peter continued undisturbed and with an innocent smile. "After all, the best way of knowing your wards are good is to see you live in them."

Stiles' mouth snapped shut with an audible noise, eyes finding Isaac. "I… I mean… Are you sure?"

"Yes," Chris answered for his mate, eyes warm. "We're very sure."

Author's note: I need y'all to know that I suck so fucking much I am THE WORST at this whole 'short smut' thing. This was supposed to be a sugar daddy oneshot. Halfway into this second part, I realized yeah no this is gonna be a three-parter. As I finished this chapter, I came to peace with the fact that this is going to be a five chapter actual multi-chapter fic. Why am I like this. HOWEVER I swear there is gonna be more sugar daddy-ing next chapter, it's time for Chris and Peter to start spoiling their boy, damn it all to hell. ALSO there will be Stiles bonding with the betas!