Sugar for the Secretary Chapter 3: The New Emissary, 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

Writer's Month Prompts: sketch plane

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 3: The New Emissary

"It's a good thing you agreed to move in willingly," Chris muttered as he looked around Stiles and Isaac's apartment. "I am not going to lie, I would have thrown you over my shoulder and carried you out of here against your will, doll. You too, kid."

Stiles grinned amused. He didn't take offense to it, he knew what his and Isaac's living situation was like and particularly in comparison to the Hale Mansion, that was a stark contrast.

"It's the best I could do to provide for my beta," Stiles shrugged.

"I know," Chris' voice softened and he rested a heavy hand in Stiles' neck, gently rubbing – scent-marking him. "And I'm proud of how you two managed on your own, but... You're part of our pack now and we're gonna take care of the two of you."

As many members of the pack as they could fit in were inside the apartment, helping them with packing all their stuff into boxes that they'd brought. Lydia and Peter had excused themselves to go and intimidate their landlord into letting them out of the lease early. Peter had taken one look at the apartment, shaken his head and declared that there were enough violations in this building that Stiles and Isaac were going to get money back and their lease ended early once Peter was done with the landlord. Lydia had spotted a feral, deadly smile as she had skipped after their boss.

The smile on Stiles' face gentled when he watched Erica and Jackson bicker in the kitchen while packing it up, Boyd busy in the bathroom, while Cora and Allison had followed Isaac into the bedroom. Derek gave Stiles a soft nudge, raising his eyebrows.

"Right," Stiles cleared his throat and looked around. "All the books. And the DVDs. Basically, everything on every shelf has to go in a box."

Derek and Chris went ahead to do as they were told while Stiles went to the window-sill, opening the window and leaning out to grab the potted plants from outside. Chris made a curious noise when he saw what flowers Stiles grew outside the apartment.

"I'm unsure if Peter is going to be a fan of there being wolfsbane in the house," Chris said.

The bickering and voices of the wolves faded around them as Chris got their attention. Stiles huffed and gently put the pots into one of the boxes before getting the next pots.

"He made me Emissary of the pack. I will not be an Emissary without easy access to wolfsbane," Stiles stated in a no-nonsense voice. "These are the six strands of wolfsbane that are most commonly used by hunters in England and this is… the trademarked Argent cross-breed."

He patted the seventh potted plant like it was a pet. Chris made another noise, this one slightly pained. Stiles gave him a sharp look. He wasn't in the habit of sugar-coating things. They both knew who Chris' family was and what they'd done to Stiles' old pack.

"Your sister is still alive and if she ever gets out of prison, she's going to come after me," Stiles shrugged. "I refuse to be unprepared for her shooting my pack ever again."

When Chris averted his eyes, there was something pained in them. It made Stiles sigh. The man was still blaming himself for what his family had done. Once the box was closed, Stiles walked over to Chris and rested his hand in the man's neck, gaining his attention.

"She isn't your responsibility, you do not carry her sins," Stiles spoke firmly. "But she is my problem and I will not let her hurt anyone I love ever again, Chris. Okay?"

Chris nodded with a heavy sigh and Stiles smiled at him before pulling him into a hug.

/break\

Peter grinned as he sat down on the armrest of the love-seat Chris already occupied, a bowl of popcorn in his hands. It earned him an amused snort from Stiles, but that only made him grin broader. Cora, Erica, Boyd and Isaac were huddled up on one couch, Lydia, Jackson, Allison and Derek on the other. Boyd had a bowl of chips on his lap that the others stole from.

"You people are ridiculous," Stiles pointed out as he stared at them. "Are you serious?"

"I've never seen actual magic before," Allison replied with a small smile. "This is exciting!"

"I love when you perform magic," Isaac shrugged. "You've only done it a couple times since we moved to London, since your… since your connection to it was weakened."

Stiles shook his head but the look on his face was so fond that it had Peter preening. The Spark was a part of his pack now, was invested in the betas and seemed to like them all. Chris next to him chuckled softly and rested a hand on Peter's thigh, patting it lightly.

Stiles took the wooden box he'd brought to the dining room table earlier, together with a bunch of other stuff. The couches were turned to face the dining area. This morning, Stiles had paced the entire house, counting steps. Measuring. The pack had watched him curiously and when Peter had brought it up – well, Stiles had at first glared at him for messing up the Spark's count, and then explained that he was measuring the house for the wards, so he would know where to place them and how much he would need to protect the entire property.

"Why do you have supplies set out?" Jackson asked with a frown. "I thought the whole thing that makes you special is that you don't need to use tools and stuff like other magic users?"

Lydia actually slapped her mate's chest with a glare. But when Stiles turned to look at them, he didn't look offended, he seemed amused. Tilting his head, he lifted a hand up, shaking it a little.

"Yeah, I have natural magic. Magic over nature. I can summon, control and bend the elements," Stiles chuckled and blobs of shaped water started twirling around his hand. "Want me to control plants and natural things? I can do that with no problem or help."

He made a dismissive motion and the water floated over into the nearest potted plant, then making a 'come hither' motion and the plant suddenly grew all the way from the corner of the room to Stiles to gently wrap around his wrist. Peter growled ever so softly and leaned back against Chris. He loved power and the casual way in which Stiles displayed just how powerful he was? Hng.

"There is nothing natural about wards," Stiles continued. "Wards, protection spells, levitation spells, all these things that people or things don't naturally do? They're… These are unnatural magics, so they need components, ingredients or words to be used. Like… Like using tools to shape something natural into an unnatural shape? A smith's tools to turn metal into a sword."

"That makes sense," Jackson hummed after a moment, nodding satisfied.

Stiles chuckled at that and released the plant, for it to go back to curling around its pot. So casual about something so impressive. Controlling plants, controlling nature. Peter's hand grabbed Chris' shoulder, holding on tight. Every instinct in the wolf made him want to grab the powerful, beautiful, kind little Spark to carry him to their bedroom, ravish him and keep him.

"Easy, my wolf," Chris murmured into Peter's ear, kissing his cheek.

Peter took a slow, calming breath. Aware of the pups carefully side-eyeing him. Lydia snorted, not looking at him. Oh, she knew. One of the few without a supernatural nose but she had been able to tell first. Then again, she worked closely with Peter, saw him with Stiles in the office. The sharpest eyes were Isaac's, who fully didn't know what was going on but understood that Peter's reaction was to Stiles. Mh. The protective pup might be a problem.

All observations and thoughts were interrupted at the sudden, intense scent of blood. All eyes snapped back to Stiles, watching the boy cut his palm, the blood dripping into a teal-colored bowl in front of him. Peter growled again, this time louder and in warning.

"No growling from the peanut gallery," Stiles didn't even look at him. "I just said this works like unnatural magic. Unnatural magic demands a sacrifice to be made."

"You could have mentioned that it required your blood," Peter's voice was still a growl.

"Why?" Stiles looked up at him with raised eyebrows. "So you could try to tell me not to do it?"

The boy's defiance was irritating. Peter narrowed his eyes but the Spark didn't back down, didn't bare his throat in submission, simply staring at him.

"Yeah, you can do the hot Alpha-eye thing all you want, Peter, I'm not gonna submit to you on this one," Stiles cocked an eyebrow at him. "This place needs wards."

Peter blinked repeatedly at the boy. Hot Alpha-eye thing? That threw him off enough to make him stop flashing his eyes red. Chris next to him chuckled, seeming awfully amused by him before getting up and walking over to Stiles. He took something of the table – bandages.

"C'mere, doll," Chris held out one hand. "Let's disinfect that and wrap it before the wolves get any more growly about it. You're done with that, right?"

Stiles, who'd been balling a fist when Chris got up, nodded and offered his hand to the hunter. Peter felt himself relax when he saw his mate take care of their Spark's injury, the blood-flow stopped.

"My blood is a physical representation of my essence," Stiles explained. "My magic makes the wards stronger, so we're doubling that by having the sacrifice be my blood."

He started putting other things into the bowl, liquids as well as flower petals. Peter kept staring at the bandaged hand in displeasure. Thankfully enough did Chris return to his side to sooth him, wrapping an arm around Peter's waist to pull him down from the armrest and into Chris' lap.

Once Stiles seemed pleased with his mixture, he walked over, half-way between the dining room table and the couches. After a moment, he nodded pleased and put the bowl down before rolling back the carpet that let from the living room into the dining room, revealing the expensive wooden floor beneath and Peter heaved a long-suffering sigh as he feared what came next. It turned into a mildly mortified noise when Stiles grabbed a knife and started carving into the floor.

"It needs to be one with the house, not just… painted on," Stiles wasn't looking up from his carving. "We'll put the rug over it again and you won't have to know your floor suffered."

It took a couple minutes for Stiles to finish his carving, the Spark grunting and huffing by the end of it and it was quite inspiriting to Peter. Curious, the Alpha got up and walked over once Stiles was done. The rest of the pack was quick to follow him. Stiles had carved the Hale Pack symbol into the floor, the three swirls of the triskele connecting in the middle. However, he had added three small symbols, each between two swirls. Once he put the knife down, Stiles started pouring the mixture of his blood and the herbs into the carving, using his fingers to spread it properly and cover it all. When he was done, he pressed his not bandaged hand down onto it and closed his eyes with a look of concentration on his face. The pack didn't even dare breath, not to disturb him when he opened his eyes again and they were ablaze with magic. Their turquoise glow wasn't like that of the werewolves' eyes, it was moving like a flame, alive with a will of its own. Mesmerizing.

They could all feel the moment the magic took effect, it was like a strong pulse that actually knocked them back, some stumbling onto the ground. Peter behind Stiles caught the boy when he collapsed backward. Not from the impact of the pulse but from exhaustion. His breathing was shallow and the turquoise slowly flickered out of his eyes, leaving only honey-whiskey behind.

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" Peter asked concerned.

He carefully pulled Stiles up against his chest, arms around the boy's waist. Stiles made a small, affirmative noise as he tilted his head back against Peter's shoulder, more or less baring his throat to the Alpha in a very tempting manner. Though right now, concern outweighed desire.

"Was just a little more magic than I'm used to using anymore," Stiles sighed, sounding frustrated.

"But it worked?" Chris asked, coming to sit next to them. "What you did, it worked?"

The hunter reached out to gently brush Stiles' hair out of his face, having the Spark gladly lean into the touch. Another affirmative noise left Stiles' throat, even as he was busy soaking up the comfort.

"How does it work?" Lydia asked, inspecting the carving. "And are you sure it worked? Because that is… a hunting knife. Not a ritual dagger. You used a ritual bowl too."

"Eh," Stiles offered a half-shrug. "That's just about… intend? It's a ritual bowl and a ritual dagger because that's the meaning assigned to them. I can make anything important if I assign it meaning. The hunting knife was… my father's. It holds more meaning, more significance, and thus more power, than if I'd buy a generic ritual dagger from a magic shop."

"And what did it do?" Erica asked, a hand hovering over the triskele in curiosity.

"Wards. Operating on vampire rules," Stiles replied, curling more into Chris in a sleepy way.

"...Vampire rules," Cora repeated with a deadpan. "We're werewolves."

"No, I mean," Stiles sighed and with some effort sat up. "You know how vampires can't just enter a home? They have to be invited in? That's what the wards do. Anyone who isn't pack has to be explicitly invited in by a member of the pack. You bring home a friend from college? They will not be able to physically enter the house unless you say 'come in' to them and mean it. No one, supernatural or not, can enter the house without an explicit invitation."

He pointed at one of the three additional symbols he'd caved. Most of the pack made curious noises at that. That was pretty practical. If Peter was honest, he hadn't really considered how wards worked, how they would know who to keep out and who to let in. This seemed useful.

"The other two symbols," Peter prompted, resting his chin on Stiles' shoulder.

"Fire proof," Stiles offered, pointing at one of the others. "The house can't burn. If you were to drop a lit match inside the house, all the match would do was burn itself up. Fire can't touch the house."

Peter swallowed hard and tightened his grip on Stiles, subconsciously pulling him closer. He had no words to say about that, all lost in memories of screams and flames and loss. Chris rested a gentle, comforting arm around Peter's shoulders, pulling his mate close enough to kiss his cheek.

"And the third one?" Isaac wanted to know, uncomfortable with the change in atmosphere.

"Force of nature proof. Earthquakes, lightning strikes, floods. Doesn't hurt to be thorough."

"You are marvelous," Peter whispered softly, nosing Stiles' neck.

"I am also now exhausted. So if someone could, uh, help me upstairs, that'd be grea-"

The word ended in a yelp when Peter simply picked his boy up, adjusting him to carry him bridal style pressed against Peter's chest. Stiles stared at him with large doe-eyes and flushed cheeks, but Peter didn't let that stop him. He carried his Emissary upstairs to the boy's bedroom.

Once he'd put Stiles down on the bed, the Alpha's eyes wandered over the bedroom critically. After he'd made Stiles and Isaac the offer to live with them, the two had moved in the next day, with the entire pack getting their stuff. That was yesterday. And while some of the furniture from their previous apartment, as well as their personal belongings, had made it into their rooms in the mansion, it was still too generic. The desk, the closet, the bed, the nightstand. All standard for the empty guest rooms. This was no longer a guest room.

"What's with the look, Alpha?" Stiles asked even as he curled together on his bed.

"We're going furniture shopping tomorrow," Peter declared. "This isn't good enough for you."

There was a curious and confused noise from Stiles, but Peter didn't elaborate. He simply tucked the Spark in and pressed a gentle kiss to Stiles' forehead that got him another, similar noise.

"For now, you rest," Peter's voice gentled. "Thank you, sweetheart. You did good."

/break\

Chris was watching with fond eyes how Isaac sat hunched on the floor in the living room in a circle with Boyd, Erica and Cora – the three pack members he seemed to be getting along with the best so far – playing one of the many board games the pack had gained over the years. It seemed like the blonde was settling in relatively well, after accepting them as his Alphas. Even though he'd only done so after the pack had taken care of Stiles while the Spark was sick. It seemed that displayed what Isaac needed to finally trust them.

"Does using his magic usually knock him out like that?" Chris asked softly.

He sat down on the couch with a book in hand, eyes on the four betas on the floor. They tensed some at his words. Everyone in the house was currently pretending they weren't worried about the unconscious Spark sleeping upstairs in his bed after Peter had carried him there. But Chris was well aware why the board game had been pulled out and why Derek and Allison were in the backyard going hard at it with an impromptu sparring session.

"I don't really know," Isaac admitted after a moment. "Like I said, he hasn't done a lot of magic since we moved to London. He put wards up in our apartment, but for one that is so much smaller than this property, and it only had to protect two people instead of a dozen. Well, eleven."

"And before you moved to London?" Erica asked intrigued. "Did he kick a lot of evil monster butt with his magic? Was he like a battle mage?"

It made Isaac laugh and Chris found himself pleased by that. The kid was still way too reserved, cautious. Burned too many times in the past to fully trust easily. But Chris and Peter were equally invested in making Isaac feel at home with them and yeah, they had fully adopted the kid.

"He… He didn't use his magic a whole lot in Beacon Hills either," Isaac answered after a moment, a melancholic look on his face. "For a long time, he didn't even know he had magic, because Deaton the fucker knew but didn't tell him until it became useful. And even then he was cagey about the extend of Stiles' powers. He was in the middle of getting the hang of it really when the… when the possession happened. And the way Stiles tells it, the Nogitsune fed on his magic."

Chris' brows furrowed at the reminder. That boy had been through decidedly too much trauma, Chris couldn't even begin to grasp it. He had no idea how Stiles could keep moving forward. A hand on his shoulder startled him and when he turned, Peter stood behind him with gentle eyes.

"He's asleep now," Peter walked around the couch to sit down next to Chris. "I stayed with him until he fully drifted off. He seems… drained. It's not really a peaceful sleep, it looks more like he was just… turned off. I do not like this."

"I think it'll get better now," Isaac shrugged, though he sounded unsure. "I mean, if you are a link to his magic source maybe it will get easier now that he's part of your pack? And if he uses his magic more often, that should also help. Like a muscle he hasn't used much, right?"

"Right," Peter smiled fondly. "Let's hope so."

"You said something about furniture shopping to him," Isaac said after a beat of silence.

"Yes. We're getting him, and you, new furniture," Peter's face set in determination. "I want you both to feel at home here, that means that you have to make this your home, not just a guest room that you accept as is and live in, pup."

Isaac wiggled his nose at being called pup, which amused Chris beyond measure. The hunter relaxed against his wolf, leaning into Peter's chest and resting his head against his husband's shoulder. Peter purred softly and wrapped an arm around him from behind.

"Yes—s," Erica grinned pleased. "Shopping trip! Pack bonding exercise!"

Chris could hear the purring sound increase. Peter loved pack bonding, loved when the betas got excited about pack bonding. It was one of the softest sides of his husband and one of Chris' favorites. Turning his face, he pressed a kiss against Peter's jaw.

/break\

As soon as the pack ascended upon the furniture store did they run off into different directions. Erica and Lydia were dragging their mates off toward the candles and decorative section, Allison and Cora wanted to check out bed sheets, Derek… Mh. Stiles had no idea where Derek had disappeared to, actually. They left Stiles and Isaac alone with the Alpha Mates.

"Welcome, can I help you with anything?"

Stiles blinked at the perky woman who had just practically materialized in front of him. Chris rested a hand on Stiles' shoulder and stepped up next to him. Part of Stiles wanted to talk, the other part wanted to see where this was going if Chris took the lead.

"These two," Chris' other hand patted Isaac's back. "Need new furniture. Beds, desks, closets, shelves. We're looking for high quality, of course."

Peter made a pleased noise at that last addition. While Chris himself wasn't so fancy, he did know his mate. Stiles couldn't help the small, amused smile. He was totally fine with his bedroom the way it was, but the Alpha insisted on them personalizing the bedrooms. And Stiles understood that, in a way. He'd seen the others' bedrooms, everyone had individualized rooms, rooms that screamed who they belonged to. Had made them their homes. Peter wanted Stiles and Isaac to be at home too and not feel like guests in the mansion, living in guest rooms.

"Ah," the woman nodded with a bright smile. "Your sons are moving out at home? It is so nice to see parents who take care of their children even after they move out!"

She'd started walking and the four of them were following her, but at her words, Stiles nearly belched. Sons. She thought Stiles was their son? Sure, he was aware that from a mathematical angle, age-wise, that would check out, Allison was literally his age, but damn no. And the assumption also rubbed Stiles the wrong way. He hated when people assumed things they knew nothing about. Time to have some fun. Putting on a cheerful smile, he walked ahead so he came to walk in front of her and then turned around, walking backward so he could face her and the others.

"Oh, they are not my fathers," Stiles assured her. "They're just my sugar daddies."

The woman's face was absolutely priceless and so were Chris and Peter's, if he was being honest. It made him crack a wicked smile. It also took the woman a few moments to regain her bearings.

"You're not so wrong about him though," Stiles jerked his chin at Isaac. "He's our son. But these two are trying to up their step-father game here. I think it's quite sweet."

Isaac made the most miserable noise and covered his face. "Why are you like this."

"Don't worry about it, we will be quite fine on our own," Stiles tagged on after a moment, having mercy on the woman. "I know what I want, and I always get what I want."

He winked, just to mess with her some more. She disappeared even faster than she had appeared, which was impressive. Peter and Chris were still staring at him like they were processing.

"Sugar daddies," Chris repeated with a twisted look on his face. "What."

"It's not even a lie," Stiles shrugged casually. "You two have been throwing money at me since Peter hired me. From the coffees and breakfasts to lunches and the damn suits. You had my car repaired last week, Chris. And now all of this, even though the already expensive furniture at the house would more than suffice – you literally said 'don't look at the price-tags, darling' when we entered the store! And like, I get it. It's some Alphas taking care of their pack thing. It's fine. It's just also incredibly funny though and I will not let that woman think you're my fathers."

Isaac heaved a long-suffering sigh. "But did you have to make the comment about me?"

"Aw, pup," Stiles grinned and patted his arm, running his hand down it and scent-marking. "If I'm your Pack Mom and they're your new Alphas, they're basically your stepdads."

When he turned to look at Chris and Peter, his grin wavered a little because he couldn't entirely make out what their expressions meant. Hopefully, he hadn't just stepped on the Alphas toes. Clearing his throat, he decided to instead focus on the whole shopping they were supposed to do.

/break\

Peter's wolf was wagging its tail in excitement, utterly pleased with himself as him and Chris worked on putting together Stiles' new bed. Even though the Spark had claimed the other one was good enough, with a little coaxing – and help from Isaac who reminded him that the bed had been quite crammed with the entire pack in it – Stiles had agreed to a larger, more expensive bed. And that Peter and Chris got to put it together pleased Peter even more.

Stiles himself was working on a cabinet with Derek, one that was supposed to hold all his magic utensils. It was old, they'd gone to an antique shop for it, and Stiles had put some runes on it for special protection. This one was particularly important to the Spark, so he wanted to do it himself. And at first, Peter had pouted and been jealous that Derek got to help with the important furniture, until Chris reminded him that they had volunteered to put the bed together before.

The betas were split up in helping Isaac and Stiles with their furniture and everything else – Lydia and Jackson were putting up a painting on the wall, above where the bed was going once Chris and Peter finished it. The painting had caught Stiles' eye in the antique shop and though Stiles had denied it, Peter hadn't let it go until the boy allowed him to buy it. It was a painting of a church.

"Why this painting?" Lydia asked with a judgmental frown. "I mean, it's technically well done, but it has hotel room vibes. Something you put up in whatever city the church is, for tourists."

"Krakow," Stiles answered without looking up. "That's the Mariacki church in Krakow."

Jackson blinked at him. "So… you like the church? Do you just like churches in general?"

"My mom's family are from Bochnia, a small mining town outside of Krakow," Stiles replied, not looking up from the runes he was caving into the cabinet. "We used to visit them during the summer when I was little, when she… when she was still alive. And we'd drive into Krakow on the weekends. And I just… I don't know. The church reminds me of her, I guess."

Peter swallowed hard, looking at the boy with soft eyes. With all the bigger supernatural trauma, he had nearly forgotten that the boy had also lost his mother as a child. Determination set in his heart. They were going to be the break Stiles deserved to catch. He would be happy and safe here.

"That's beautiful," Lydia spoke, voice genuine. "And you haven't been since she died?"

Stiles' shoulders sagged a little as he shook his head. "Her family didn't… They weren't fans of her getting married to a man removed from our culture. My dad was a second generation immigrant too, but his parents… they never taught him the language, they made sure to Americanize themselves and bend to the American sensibility, including the butchering of their last name – Stilinski isn't actually a real Polish last name. My grandfather's name was Janusz Zieliński, but the person welcoming him to the US didn't listen and didn't care and my grandfather didn't dare correct them. So, my mom's family, they took… they kinda took offense to all of that? And when my mom was gone and it was just me and my dad, they just…"

He shrugged and his scent soured with mourning and anger and disappointment. Derek rested a hand in his neck, rubbing gently, soothing his pack-mate. Peter stared at the boy with longing.

"You know," Chris spoke, his voice lighter than the conversation demanded. "Every summer, we take a vacation together, as a pack. We haven't decided on where to go this year yet. I don't think any of us have ever been to Poland. That could be a nice change of pace."

Stiles' head whipped around to stare at the hunter with something wary and hopeful. Peter, upon seeing that expression, was ready to book a flight right now. He wanted to take Stiles wherever the boy wanted to go. Anything to make him happy, especially when it would be so easily achievable.

"Oh, absolutely. I haven't been in many years, I do remember visiting Krakow with Talia when she was still new to being an Alpha, visiting allied packs all over," Peter hummed pleased.

Stiles stared at him and the hope took over the wariness and Peter's chest swelled with pride.

/break\

Chris groaned when he got pinned against their car, Peter's mouth immediately attaching itself to his neck. It was date night and they'd barely gotten through the appetizer before Peter's foot had found its way between Chris' legs beneath the table, teasing him, keeping him on edge until they finally got out of the restaurant. Chris' hand wandered under Peter's shirt, tracing his husband's abs, while Peter's hand went down Chris' pants. They were in a back alley, they were alone, but damn.

"Peter," Chris growled even as he bucked into the touch.

"Mh?" Peter feigned innocence, fangs ever so lightly scratching over Chris' neck.

It made the hunter shudder, knees going weak. Peter's fingers wrapped around his cock, started jerking him off roughly. Quick. Damn it, they used to do these kind of things all the time but in the past couple weeks, they'd been so preoccupied with trying to make Stiles and Isaac join their pack and having them settle in, they'd been neglecting each other.

"Peter," Chris' voice was a plea and a prayer.

The wolf growled pleased and used his thumb in that way that always pushed Chris over the edge. With a gasp did Chris come into Peter's hand, sliding down the car a little. Peter's other arm was around his waist, holding him upright. Another kiss, deep and hungry.

"Let's go home," Peter whispered, voice rough and pleased.

He pulled his hand out of Chris' pants and started licking his fingers like he'd just gotten dessert. It put a blush on Chris' cheeks and a glare on his face. Damn that wolf… But he did get into the car and let Peter drive them back home. There's still light in the living room when they reach home but it's pretty late so they're as quiet as they could to get in, they knew Erica and Boyd always got up very early due to their work. Still, Chris' curiosity got the best of him and he went to see who was still up in the living room at close to one in the morning during a week day.

"You're back," Stiles immediately looked up when they entered the living room.

"Hello to you too, darling," Peter raised an eyebrow. "As your boss, I do have to disapprove of you still being awake, I think. Why are you still awake?"

Stiles closed his laptop and the books in front of him before getting up. When he stretched, his back cracked in a very unpleasant way, making Chris wince. With a yawn, he walked up to them.

"I was waiting up for you," Stiles shrugged, not looking at them.

"You… what?" Chris blinked stunned, watching their Emissary climb the stairs.

Stiles paused at the top of the stairs, his hand's grip so tight on the rail that his knuckles turned white. "I'm not used to there being more people than me and Iz anymore. I don't… like not knowing if the people I care about are actually safe. That's… I'm working on it, okay? That's my problem, not yours. But yeah. When any of you guys go out for your date nights, I usually stay up and wait until everyone from the pack's back home."

Chris heaved a sigh and stepped up to Stiles, resting a hand in his neck. "I… I do understand that. After the fire, I couldn't sleep if I didn't know my family was all accounted for, in the same room. The pups and Ally all crowded into Peter's hospital room together… Loss and trauma do funny things to us and sometimes, we need to find ways to deal with it. If staying up until you know everyone is safe helps you, that's… not ideal, because you need your sleep too, but we get it."

Stiles turned slightly, offering Chris a watery half-smile, grateful the hunter understood. Chris returned the smile, soft and warm, giving Stiles' neck another squeeze before impulsively leaning down to press a kiss to Stiles' forehead. The Spark blinked at him mildly flustered.

"Good night, doll," Chris whispered, voice rough.

Stiles' smile grew more sure of himself. "Night, guys."

/break\

Stiles grinned pleased as he worked in his garden. They'd put his potted plants into a greenhouse, so the wolves wouldn't accidentally get too close to them. It was so spacious, he'd been able to get even more plants. Plants for healing and others that often came up for potions. Once he was done for the day and left, locking the greenhouse behind him, he turned to watch his pack in the garden.

Erica, Lydia and Jackson were laying sprawled out in the sun, down to bathing wear to get max exposure to the sun. Allison was shooting arrows at a target, while Isaac and Cora were playing commentators like that was some kind of sports event. Boyd and Derek were sparring a bit off.

The scent of food drew his attention toward Chris at the barbecue and suddenly, his stomach growled. He'd been so busy for hours, he hadn't even noticed he was hungry. The sound of his growling stomach drew the attention of Peter, who was setting the outside table.

"Ah, so you finally emerge," Peter sounded pleased. "We've been waiting for you."

Stiles blinked owlishly when the entire pack started moving to help Peter set the table and carry out various salads and breads and oh. Right. People who cared about him. No longer just him and Isaac, who was self-sufficient enough and didn't mind eating on his own whenever Stiles ducked into a research binge or other project. These people took pack seriously. If everyone was at home, then everyone ate together – there were always exceptions of those who were at work or on dates or in class, but the ones who were in the house during meal times shared those meals. Stiles was still adjusting to that, to having so many people around, so many people who cared about him, who wanted him around. Him and Isaac had only been living with the Hale Pack for about three weeks.

"Sorry," Stiles cleared his throat. "The nightshade was an attention hog today."

"What does that even mean," Cora gave him a curious side-eye.

"She had a lot of complaints," Stiles shrugged. "She doesn't like the greenhouse."

"I'm sorry, the plant doesn't like the greenhouse," Jackson looked at him in concern.

And oh. Stiles blinked doe-eyed at the pack that was staring at him like he'd lost it. Right.

"Right. Spark. Nature magic. Can talk to plants, if they're anchored in my land's ground. The plants I brought from Beacon Hills, their pots were filled with Earth from the preserve," Stiles explained, then motioning at the mighty oak tree in the garden. "This one? Doesn't talk to me. Because these are not my lands. But my plants? I can talk to them."

"Like… actual conversations?" Allison asked eagerly.

"Well," Stiles wiggled his nose thoughtfully as he sat down. "It's not really a language? More like… vibes and feelings? I can tell what they want to communicate."

"Does that mean you were able to do that with… all plants in Beacon Hills?" Boyd asked.

Stiles stilled and he knew the expression on his face must have been unfathomably sad. "Yeah. The preserve was like a… symphony? Like every scene of a movie with soft background music? All the sounds of the trees and flowers whispering in the wind. It was… I… I do miss it. A lot."

He tilted his head and stared at the empty plate in front of him, before Cora forcefully put potato salad on it in a heap way too big for him. She really was very demanding in expressing her love. Stiles looked up at her with the smallest smile. Everyone started filling their plates and Chris came with the first steaks, sausages and cheese (Lydia's demand, which had made Peter growl). The atmosphere turned softer and more pleasant as everyone started talking about their plans for the upcoming week. It was Sunday evening and with the nice weather, they'd decided on an impromptu barbecue, which, cutting into the absolutely perfect steak Chris had made, Stiles was grateful for. The conversation was focused on Cora and Allison's movie plans for Wednesday, which made Stiles remember his own appointment for Wednesday and he suddenly froze.

"Oh," Stiles blinked and turned toward Peter. "I should probably run this by you now, I guess."

That immediately got him the Alpha's attention, as well as the rest of the pack's. "What?"

Stiles caught his lower lip between his teeth thoughtfully. "I kinda got a side-gig? It hadn't come up so far yet since I joined the pack, but yeah uh. About a year ago, when I'd lost my job at the time and we were real short on rent, I started doing some… odd magic jobs for the community in and around London, to earn some quick cash. It was never steady enough to be a full time thing, especially since it wasn't reliable on when someone needed something or the size of the request, but it helped out when we really needed it."

Chris frowned. "I thought you haven't done a lot of magic since you moved to London."

"It wasn't a lot, really. There's usually weeks, if not a month or more, between the jobs. Not like I went out every week to play fairy godspark to someone," Stiles shrugged. "Like I said, not a steady gig. But it earned the needed extra cash at times, and it got me some good connections. I just figured, since I am your Emissary now, I should probably tell you when someone else requests my help? Especially when it's another Alpha…?"

At first, Peter only tensed lightly. "Yes, I would appreciate that. Who? London as seven packs."

"Robert Hayes," Stiles replied, biting his lip again.

There was a calculating edge to Peter's gaze and Stiles had a hard time controlling his own chemo-signals to not give anything away that might tip Peter either way. Isaac helpfully did that for him.

"Your ex," Isaac said with a displeased face. "I thought you aren't seeing him anymore."

"Thank you, pup," Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes as the whole pack burst into noise and squeaks. "And that's an exaggeration anyway. It's not like we were dating. It was just a one-night-stand."

"Five one-night-stands are no longer one-night-stands," Isaac counted. "And he was courting you."

Stiles made a face at that and stuffed more potato salad into his mouth. Peter made a noise, like he was trying very hard not to growl. Just what Stiles needed, an over-protective Alpha.

"What does he mean by courting you, doll?" Chris asked, a growl to his own voice.

Ah, great, two over-protective Alphas. And one of them wasn't even a wolf. Stiles sighed.

"Nothing, we just had… a couple of… hook-ups that I had thought I'd made sure he knew were no strings attached, but then he, well, tried to attach some strings to it," Stiles made a dismissive gesture. "I declined his courting, he took it in stride. No hard feelings."

"Wait, isn't Alpha Hayes like old?" Erica frowned. "Like, in his fifties?"

Stiles mustered a perfect deadpan as he stared at her. "Yeah, I like older men. More experience. And the silver fox look is hot. I mean, seriously hot."

There was a noise somewhere to his right and he wasn't sure who had made it, but quite frankly, he was so done talking about his love life with these nosy wolves. He reached for another steak.

"Rob's a very well-respected member of the community, I don't know your relationship with him."

"We are allied," Peter groused out, sounding displeased. "He's… a good… Alpha."

"Can you sound any more like saying that physically pains you?" Stiles chuckled amused. "Look, I just, you know. I'll drop by his pack Wednesday afternoon to work with Marge – Emissary Cotton – on something. I'll probably even be home before dinner."

"I'm coming with you," Peter declared, chin raised.

"...Why?" Stiles frowned confused. "You just said he's a good Alpha."

"To make sure he understands you're part of my pack now," Peter growled. "It doesn't look good, for a pack's Emissary to just be strolling around other packs like that. You're meeting them at their territory, I'm sure you're not just meeting up with Emissary Cotton on her own. I'm sure Robert is making sure to be a presence too. Alphas tend to be protective of their Emissaries."

Stiles hummed and then shrugged. "Okay, fine."

If he was being honest, he was already glad enough that Peter was okay with him going at all. He had no way of being sure how Peter would feel about him using his magic for anyone outside the pack, he was still figuring out how Peter was feeling about Stiles using his magic for the pack. The Alpha had hovered for days after the wards had been placed and knocked Stiles out. And when he'd put up the wards at the law firm, Peter hadn't left him out of sight the entire day either.

/break\

There were no words to describe how Peter felt about the wards on the house. Protection from fire. He hadn't had a restless sleep since the fire but after the wards were in place, he'd slept through the night for the first time in too many years. And then Stiles had installed the wards in the law firm – and they blew Peter's mind. They tipped Stiles off to any supernatural being entering the building and he would inform Peter of such. Clients only dinged once, unless Stiles marked them as suspicious, but all of Peter's regular clients, after passing through the wards once, got a free pass from him Emissary. On more than one occasion had Stiles helped Peter stop a client from becoming a threat already, and Stiles had only been his Emissary for a little over a month.

Peter used to scoff at packs for having Emissaries, for relying on magic users. Too burned by the past, quite literally so. If Deaton had been more trustworthy, more reliable – why had the Hale House not been provided with wards, they lived in fucking California, wildfires and Earthquakes weren't a surprise or rarity, for crying out loud – maybe Peter's family would still be alive.

But Stiles? Stiles was everything other packs made Emissaries out to be, and so much more. The young Spark completely took Peter's breath away. Every time he was treated to seeing Stiles perform magic to any degree, all the Alpha could do was watch in awe.

"I scheduled your meeting with Alpha Harlow for tomorrow," Stiles was tapping his pen against the calendar in his hand. "About that, ah, new beta of his who got into some trouble. Client meetings have been moved up accordingly, because we do not want the aggressive beta wolf in holding any longer than we have to. Compensated the clients by arranging… luncheons at that disgustingly fancy place you adore so much, which means two lunches for you, one at noon the other at one PM, try to eat light both times, because I moved Mister Hirano to an early dinner at six PM since he's your biggest client that day that has to be pushed back so we're compensating with that Italian place he was fawning over last time he was here. His assistant, Julia, was very pleased on his behalf for this arrangement, he doesn't seem to mind that the morning appointment had to be moved."

Peter hummed, looking over the digital version of his calendar on his screen. That Stiles preferred to organize and keep track of these things on a physical book made of paper had absolutely baffled Peter, until he'd actually seen the calendar notebook that Stiles kept to organize Peter's appointments as well as everything else he was instructed to take care of for Peter and his clients. Stiles took all notes in code. Polish written mirrored. Even on the off chance that whoever got their hands on the planner to get delicate information spoke Polish, it'd be harder for them to figure out it was Polish to begin with because they'd need to figure out it was mirrored. It looked like utter gibberish at first glance and Peter was so damn pleased by his genius little secretary.

"Court on Friday at 9," Stiles continued. "You were assigned Judge Meadows," Peter made a disgruntled face at that because he hated that man. "But I sweet-talked Janice, who does the court-room assignments, with a ticket to the concert she wanted to go to this week but had been too late to get into and suddenly Judge Reynolds had an opening at 9."

Peter started purring. Judge Reynolds was his favorite, the woman practically ate out of his hand. And Stiles knew that. A grin spread over Peter's lips as he watched Stiles, who still hadn't even looked up from the calendar. The boy kept working miracles while remembering every little detail that was important to Peter's work – his best and most cherished clients, connections with other lawyers, the judges he worked best with or worst with – and not once did he expect praise or admiration for it, because to Stiles it was just an obvious part of his job.

"Very well done, darling," Peter smiled pleased at his boy. "I can be glad I have you."

Stiles looked up and blinked those pretty doe-eyes at him, cheeks just a little flushed. "I told you that you don't have to thank me for doing my job? Stop it, it's really weird."

And while Peter mostly did it to validate Stiles' hard work, a part of him also did it for that charming little blush and the way Stiles' scent would sweeten. The boy had such a praise kink and Peter loved to indulge it, would love to indulge it in the bedroom too. But it was too early, wasn't it? Stiles and Isaac were still settling into the pack, Stiles still sat vigil in the living room whenever one of the pack was out after dark. Usually, another member of the pack would sit with him – at first mostly Chris and Peter, but by now he'd also found Stiles playing video games with Isaac and Jackson, having an impromptu book club with Derek and Lydia, cooking midnight spaghetti with Cora and Boyd, late night movie-watching with Erica and Allison. But it was still a sign of just how unsettled Stiles still was. Unsure of the pack, of the fact that the pack was here to stay. Wouldn't be taken away from him again. And with that mindset, Peter couldn't come onto Stiles.

An affair with his secretary would have already been a troublesome enough thing, with him holding the power as the employer. But being Stiles' employer and his Alpha? Peter wouldn't be able to trust that Stiles would truly be consenting and wouldn't just be afraid to lose the life he so carefully had built here, may fear losing the pack and/or his job if he said no. Peter couldn't do that.

"I also sent a flower arrangement to Alpha Nelson and Emissary Logan to congratulate them to their engagement in the name of the entire pack," Stiles added after another moment. "Not really, you know, law firm related, but. It'd be a faux par not to, so I played pack secretary."

Peter blinked repeatedly and then cursed beneath his breath. "I meant to do that, I forgot…"

"That's why you have me," Stiles grinned cheekily. "So—o, that concludes business and right in time for us to get to Rob's for my meeting with Marge."

Rob. Oh, it so rubbed Peter the wrong way that Stiles called Alpha Robert Hayes 'Rob'. Nobody aside from the Alpha's sister called him Rob. Yes, it had figured that Stiles would have a dating history. The boy was stunning and quick-witted, so clever and funny. It was a miracle Peter didn't have to beat suitors off with a stick now that Stiles was living with them (which he had been informed by a very stern Lydia he had no right to do, if Stiles ever did bring someone home, seeing as him and Christopher didn't 'man up' and court Stiles themselves. The banshee couldn't even smell attraction, how she was the only one in the house to catch on was beyond Peter. She scared him and he was very glad to have her on his side. Most of the times, even if not on this matter).

"Let's go and meet with the Hayes Pack, sweetheart," Peter forced a smile.

He rested his hand in Stiles' neck, giving it a gentle squeeze before very slowly running it down Stiles' back to rest on the Spark's lower back to guide him out of the office. Cover the boy in his scent. Make it very clear to Alpha Hayes that Stiles was his. His Emissary.

/break\

"Oh, you two are ridiculous," Stiles heaved an exasperated sigh as he climbed in Chris' car.

The former hunter smirked at their Spark. "Good evening to you too, doll."

Stiles rolled his eyes so hard, Chris wondered if he'd ever pulled a muscle doing that. Peter climbed into the passenger seat and leaned over to kiss his husband, looking very pleased with himself. Or with Stiles. Potentially both. One last time, Chris checked on Stiles in the rear-view mirror before starting the car. He'd talked about this in the morning with Peter and they'd agreed that Chris would pick them up and accompany them to the Hayes Pack. Perhaps Chris was feeling a little more possessive than normal too, Stiles' comments about silver foxes had gotten to Chris.

"I am the Alpha Mate," Chris said, after a stretch of silence. "If Peter is going with you to officially introduce you as our Emissary, we think that I should be there too. Show that you are no longer a freelance magic user at anyone's disposal, but that you are a valued Emissary to a pack."

Stiles' cheeks turned red at 'valued' and it made Chris smirk a little. Peter had figured out a couple weeks ago that Stiles had a bit of a praise kink going and it had become a game between Chris and Peter on who managed to fluster Stiles more badly with perfectly acceptable compliments – nothing below the belt, nothing inappropriate. Just genuine, true statements on Stiles' value to them and the pack and the value of his work, as an Emissary and a secretary. Whoever flustered Stiles worse got to top that night. Chris was on a winning streak these days. Twice the rewards, Stiles' pretty blushes and Peter spread out beneath him.

The Hayes Pack had a beautiful estate a bit out of London. When their car pulled up and they got out, the Alpha, his sister and Right Hand, as well as the Emissary were all already waiting outside. Chris went to open Stiles' door for him, earning a look from the Spark. Ignoring it, Chris offered Stiles his hand and if he kept it on Stiles as they walked up to the Hayes Pack, well, that was Chris' business. Perhaps his possessive wolf was rubbing off on him.

"Alpha Hayes, it's good to see you," Peter smiled politely.

Quite frankly, Chris was impressed by Peter's self-control to not growl at the Alpha who had apparently slept with Stiles in the past. Chris had fully been prepared to be the damage control for when Peter went for the man's throat. Instead, Robert and Peter shook hands.

"I'm sure you remember my sister and Right Hand, Odelia, as well as my Emissary, Margaret Cotton," Robert motioned at the two women with them.

Odelia was a tall, athletic woman, about a decade younger than her brother, with pitch-black hair, where her brother's hair had distinguished silver streaks around the temples. Both had sharp features, particularly their cheekbones. The resemblance between them couldn't be denied. Emissary Cotton on the other hand was a short, roundish woman in her late seventies with nearly white hair and prominent laugh-lines on her face, showing a life well-lived.

"Marge, please," the woman insisted. "The only one to call me Margaret is my dear husband, and only when I am in trouble. Mostly for having been reckless."

Her eyes sparkled with mischief and Chris couldn't help the fond smile himself. The woman was absolutely charming. Stiles pushed past Chris and Peter to go straight in for a hug with her.

"Oh, dear boy," Marge's voice went softer. "It is so good to see you. You should come by more often. Have tea with me, bring those delicious cookies of yours, yes?"

"I'll do my best," Stiles smiled at her and then turned toward the Hayes siblings. "Oddie. Rob."

Odelia grinned and ruffled Stiles hair. Robert however pulled Stiles into a hug and kissed his cheek and Chris' hand flexed to reach for his hunting knife and end the man on the spot. Peter's hand around his wrist stopped him, before the Alpha gently slipped his hand into Chris' fully, holding it, making it look like casual affection instead of a prevented murder. Damn it, he was supposed to be Peter's self-control. What was the world coming to when Peter was the voice of reason?

"You look lovely as ever, my dear," Robert smiled pleased. "Thank you for coming by."

Stiles pursed his lips in something that looked too fond for Chris' liking, before the boy's face morphed into a more serious expression. "This isn't like last time, so I want to do this right. Alpha Hayes, I'd like you to meet my Alpha, Peter Hale, and his mate, Christopher Hale. I'm here in my function as Emissary to the Hale Pack, who offer you help."

"Emissary Stilinski," Marge said it with so much pride and delight before cupping his face with both hands. "Well done, my boy. A Spark should not be wasted on commission work."

Chris couldn't help but straighten up when her eyes flashed a fire-y turquoise for a second. It was impolite to pry into what type of magic user another pack's Emissary was, if it was not shared voluntarily. Neither him nor Peter had been aware that the Hayes Pack's Emissary was a Spark.

"Not entirely what you had in mind, I know," Stiles grinned and tilted his head.

Robert led the way around the house toward the backyard and Chris used the moment to give Stiles an inquisitive look. Him and Peter came to flank Stiles from either side, protective and possessive.

"When Robert first brought this young Spark home with him to bed," Marge shot Robert a very judgmental look. "I started to consider that he would be a worthy successor. As Spark of London."

"That's… not how Sparks work," Peter pointed out cautiously.

Marge looked at him amused. "Yes, thank you, dear boy, I am aware. It is not how Sparks traditionally work. The Nemeton plants a new seed of magic in a baby when the last Spark dies. Which usually leaves the territory weak during the new Spark's childhood. Stiles here is a… very special young man, an unbound Spark who is living away from his territory. I have been researching ways to tie him to our Nemeton, even just as an… interim Spark, so to speak, until whoever will be chosen after my death is old enough to take over. Perhaps even giving that young Spark a mentor, something that our kind… never gets the chance to have, due to our nature."

"Is that… possible?" Chris asked surprised, looking between the two Sparks.

"Perhaps now," Marge mused curiously, her eyes intense as she stared at Stiles. "You have grown much, much more powerful since I last saw you. Your magic is rolling off you in waves."

"Ye—eah, funny development on that front," Stiles grinned at her. "Turns out Peter's the former Alpha of my territory. Our shared link to the same Nemeton has been strengthening me. I am feeling pretty damn good. It's still… not what it used to be in Beacon Hills, but… it feels good."

"I would like you to reconsider," Marge turned very serious for the first time, reaching out to take Stiles' hand. "I do think that I could bind you to my Nemeton, with your help and the coven of Emissaries. I'm… old. I'm not getting younger. I can't accompany my pack into fights the way I used to when Robert was still a wee lad barely big enough for his fangs."

Robert cleared his throat embarrassed while his sister next to him openly cackled. Chris could feel Peter next to him tense. Was Marge offering what it sounded like she was offering?

"I have a pack now," Stiles regarded Marge and Robert with careful eyes.

"I'm sorry, no," Marge laughed, taking his hand to pat it. "I'm not asking you to take over being the Emissary. I have an Emissary in training and she will take over for me in a year's time. You have made your position on that clear when I first asked you, when Robert asked you to join our pack. We respect your choice, even more so now that you are an Emissary to a pack. The position of Spark is not tied to the Hayes Pack, even if it is the oldest pack in London. The next Spark may be born into any sub-territory of London, may join any of London's packs. They would not be forced to join our pack either. My offer to make you the next Spark of London is not tied to anything."

Stiles tensed, eyes widened. Both Chris and Peter held their breath as they watched and waited.

"I… I will… think on it," Stiles swallowed hard. "I meant it, back then, that I didn't want it, didn't want the responsibility. But… things are different now. And for the first time in years, I am feeling more connected to my Spark and I… forgot how good it feels. Having a healthy connection to a healthy Nemeton would… I will think about it, Marge."

"That is all I am asking, dear boy," Marge smiled at him encouragingly. "Now, why you are here…"

/break\

"You look very deep in thought."

Stiles startled and nearly fell off the roof. He'd climbed out of his bedroom window to sit on the roof and stare at the full moon. All their wolves were in the basement, where they had titanium cells. Though most of them had excellent control, they'd rather be safe than sorry. Allison smiled at him as she climbed out of her own bedroom window and crawled over to sit next to him.

"I… uh… I got an offer, the other day, and it's…"

"An offer you can't refuse?" Allison asked in a poor impersonation.

It cracked Stiles up, making him laugh until he was leaning into her. He remained leaning against her and she tilted her own head to rest against his, both of them looking out over London.

"Is it the Alpha? Your… ex?" Allison asked after a moment. "Does he want you back?"

"Oh, he does, but that wasn't the offer," Stiles chuckled. "His Emissary is the Spark of this city. Tied to the local Nemeton. She has been trying to figure out a ritual that would allow her to tie me to the Nemeton and to… ease her off, when she is ready for retirement, so to speak."

Allison looked at him curiously. "What would that mean? For you?"

"More power," Stiles started, flexing a hand and letting little sparks fly around it. "Easier access to my magic. Less pain, because when I use too much magic it… leaves me in pain. If I had more power and easier access, I wouldn't be as exhausted as quickly. But most importantly, it'd allow me to cut the phantom limb off. The Nemeton in Beacon Hills. It… It has been dying for seventy years and it's been a… losing battle for a long time. The Hale Pack leaving, me leaving, were… the last nails in the coffin. I can feel it dying. I'm the last Spark of Beacon Hills, I know that."

"So you wouldn't have to feel it dying?" Allison asked with furrowed brows. "That's like… a bad feeling in the back of your mind, or…? I just, your plant connection is mystifying to most of us."

Stiles cracked a small, sad smile. He'd never told anyone, not even Isaac, but in that moment, on this roof, with Allison pressed against his side, comforting as she had been ever since they'd first broken into Stiles' apartment when he was sick, with Marge's words swirling in his head, and his thoughts so focused on the Nemeton, he felt the words spilling out without meaning to.

"It's killing me too," Stiles whispered into the wind, the look on his face like the skeleton of a smile. "The Nemeton is what gave me my magic. But magic isn't… magic isn't something that was added to me. My soul is made of my magic. If my magic fully dies, my soul dies with it. I… die with it. Before I ran into Peter, I… I was giving myself about five more years, before the Nemeton's slow death would be catching up with me. Peter's been giving me a boost, but I'm still living on borrowed time, because our Nemeton is still dying."

"A… Are you serious?" Allison's voice cracked and there was a shimmer of tears in her eyes. "What the fuck are you even thinking about, then? If this could literally save your life! We're not ready to lose you, we only just found you! I will drag you to that Nemeton myself right now and tie you to it physically, if that helps any!"

Her earnestness was what brought some tears to Stiles' eyes too, making him blink curiously. He'd accepted that fate, for the most part. Part of him had even seen it as something he had coming. After his father's death, the possession, maybe it was just what naturally came next. The only reason he'd kept not giving up had been Isaac. But now, with their new pack, with his new job, new home, new role as an Emissary, he… For the first time in too long, he felt like he had a life. A real life.

"I don't want to die," Stiles whispered. "But you need to understand that this ritual is… unnatural. It has never been done before. There is no guarantee that it will work at all. It could very well fully backfire and kill me on the spot, kill Marge along with me. At worst, it could corrupt the London Nemeton and this city is too old, too important and too big a territory to lose its Nemeton for good. Those are the things I have to consider here. Is my life worth more than the continued safety of all of London? If this was safe, if this was a guaranteed success, I would have jumped onto it right away. But this is the impulsive idea of an old, reckless woman who is trying to change how things work in a bout of hubris that stands unparalleled. Don't get me wrong, I fucking admire it and am damn impressed that she cooked this up herself, but that doesn't make it safe."

Understanding dawned on Allison and she looked truly torn. Stiles wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and leaning his head against her shoulder for comfort. She sighed.

"Do my dads know?" Allison asked softly after a long moment.

"About the offer? Yes. About everything else? No," Stiles pressed his lips together for a moment, taking a deep breath. "They've already done so much for me. I don't need to put this on them too. It's… in the end, it's my decision. Potentially the last decision I ever get to make, if it goes wrong."

"Anything," Allison spoke so forcefully, it startled Stiles. "Anything at all that I can do, that any of us can do, to make this safer or give it a higher success rate, or whatever, anything at all, we would do it in a heartbeat. I need you to take that into consideration too, okay?"

"Anything is offering a little much, especially on behalf of other people."

She turned sharply and gave him a fierce glare. "Anything, Stiles. And I can offer it, on behalf of the rest of our pack, because I know them, like my own heart. You're like the smartest person I know, next to Lydia, so if there is anyone who can come up with ways to make this thing fool proof, it's you. Figure out how to make this safe and then ask for help to do it."

Stiles blinked at her, baffled, and then nodded. Right. He now had people in his corner, people who were willing to do ridiculous things just because they liked him.

Author's note: Sooo this story suddenly grew a bit of a plot, who would have thought. But the thing is that I have drawn clear parameter for what a Spark means, have created my own definite lore for it, and having him move to London made me consider HOW that would play out, within these parameters. I liked the direction it took, so I ran with it. Next chapter, Stiles claims his spot as Pack Mom when he finally learns to open up and rely on others for help! ;)