Honeypots of Luck

by Takara Phoenix

New FBI agents and best friends Stiles and Scott are sent to infiltrate the Hales and the Argents respectively, two of the most notorious crime families in the state. On his first day, Stiles realizes that the Hales aren't just criminals – they're also a pack of werewolves. Chris/Peter/Stiles slash Stetopher

Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Honeypots of Luck || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Honeypots of Luck – Romeo and Juliet, but with Guns and Claws

TW Disclaimer: All rights reserved to Jeff Davis and MTV. This fanfiction on the other hand is entirely mine. No money is made with this, though reviews are more than welcomed.

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, alternate universe, mob/mafia, Pack Alpha Peter, Spark Stiles, fluff, hurt/comfort, explicit intercourse, anal, oral, past abusive relationship, murder, f/f, m/f

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Side Pairings: Scott/Allison, Boyd/Erica, Jackson/Lydia, Malia/Kira

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Chris Argent, Peter Hale, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Cora Hale, Scott McCall, Allison Argent, Malia Tate, Kira Yukimura, Gerard Argent

Summary: New FBI agents and best friends Stiles and Scott are sent to infiltrate the Hales and the Argents respectively, two of the most notorious crime families in the state. On his first day, Stiles realizes that the Hales aren't just criminals – they're also a pack of werewolves.

Honeypots of Luck

Romeo and Juliet, but with Guns and Claws

Stiles took a slow, deep breath as he stepped into the club, his hands clammy. The Blood Moon was a hugely popular establishment, a who is who of famous and rich people hung out here. Also known as absolutely not a place Stiles belonged in. The club was owned by the Hale crime family.

Which was the reason he was here. It was his first big case. He'd worked so hard in Quantico, was finally given the opportunity to prove himself. However this case went, it would set the course for his entire his career with the FBI, that much he was sure of.

"Bit early for a drink, pretty boy. We open at seven. Come back in like five hours."

It took Stiles a moment to realize that the person was talking to him. He looked up wide-eyed to stare at the absolutely gorgeous blonde bombshell behind the bar. Blushing at the compliment, Stiles ran his fingers through his hair and stepped up.

"Uhm, I… I'm looking for a job?"

While walking over to her, he noted everyone else in the club right now. The big, tall guy at the end of the bar with his arms crossed was practically screaming security, especially with the way he kept staring at Stiles. So did the gruff-looking guy at a table opposite the bar, whom Stiles easily identified as Derek Hale. They were both positioned on either side of the entrance, casual enough to not immediately draw attention but still standing out enough for Stiles to clock them.

Two blonde guys, one kind of arrogant looking and the other with cheekbones that may be able to cut diamonds, sat at a table further down, talking casually and seemingly not minding Stiles yet.

The blonde bombshell looked highly amused by him. "You just walk into a club, hoping for a job?"

Stiles gave it a little shrug. "I really need a job. Despair makes you try and hope for the best."

The guys further away were pausing in their conversation, not so subtly watching him. He hadn't spoken loud enough for them to hear him and hadn't said anything that would warrant sudden interest even if they could hear him. The two security guys looked tense. The tall one waved the bombshell over and once she was within reach, putting a drink down in front of him, he pulled her into a kiss. His hand rested in her neck and then very slowly, very deliberately, rand down her arm.

Steps sounded and two pretty brunette girls – and Stiles did a mental double-take when he recognized Cora and Malia Hale – walked over to sit down with the two blondes, their eyes intense as they bore into Stiles, like his presence was what had drawn them out.

He'd studied his cover story, had it down good. But when he stepped up to the bar and watched everyone's reaction, he started to think that maybe that had to go out the window because the situation he'd walked into may be a different one than he had prepared for.

Because Stiles hadn't simply walked into an establishment run by a crime family here. He'd just walked into the den of a pack of werewolves. And all of their attention was on him.

The signs were subtle and a lesser man would not have picked up on them, however, Stiles was no lesser man and he had been best friends with a werewolf for seven years now. Well, they'd been best friends for much longer but Scotty had only been a werewolf for seven of them.

The two blondes had heard what he'd said even on long distance, had honed in on him accordingly. The tall guy had scent-marked the bartender, after a very possessive kiss that screamed of mates – the urge to claim and make sure a new person in their territory knew the other was taken. Cora and Malia walking in the way they did, like they'd heard all of this from the backroom. Walking in because they could hear the lie. He was alone in the den of a pack of werewolves. A very dangerous pack of werewolves. The murdering and law-breaking kind of werewolves.

This assignment had already been dangerous when it was 'only' about one of the most dangerous crime families in the states. That crime family actually being a werewolf pack added a whole new layer of danger to it and Stiles could feel his heart racing nervously in his chest.

All eyes were on him and all ears were on him, he could see the fact that they could hear his racing heart. Thought him even more suspicious than a guy walking into a club to get a job. More suspicious even than a guy walking into a club and lying that he needed the job.

His finely crafted cover-story was gone. He couldn't lie. They'd know it right away. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as his mind raced to take his past and present and bend it in a way that'd work for his assignment while still passing as truths.

He was supposed to be a freshly clean former drug addict who was trying to turn his life around and needed the job to do so. Shady enough past to make it not seem suspicious when he involved himself with the less legal side of the business, while also giving redemption vibes – the FBI's research had shown that the Hale family was big on redemption and second chances.

"Must be quite desperate and not have thought this through very well, to think a place like my club just hires walk-ins. Don't you know this is a dangerous place, pretty boy?"

A full-body shudder hit him because this voice calling him pretty boy did entirely different things to him than the girl behind the bar. The dark, velvet like voice was such a deep purr, Stiles felt something warm stir in his belly. His breath hitched when he saw the gorgeous man the voice belonged to. Peter Hale, head of the Hale family.

Well, fuck. The lack of answer and racing heart probably made him look like a giant red flag to werewolves. To the point of bringing out the head of the family – the Alpha of the pack.

"It being a dangerous place is why I'm here," Stiles answered truthfully, raising his chin.

A handsome half-smirk spread over Peter's lips as he tilted his head intrigued. The man walked over to the bar to sit down next to Stiles, not taking his eyes off of Stiles. In his life, Stiles had never felt more like prey before and he had been hunted and hurt in the past, often times by werewolves. There was something seriously wrong with him for feeling thrilled by this.

The bartender raised her eyebrows at him. "Really? I thought that 'despair' made you walk into a high-end club hoping for a job? Not 'danger'. Who comes seeking danger?"

This was not going to be pleasant. He bit his lip, fingers clawing into his jeans as he made a choice.

"Sometimes, one kind of danger can prove protection over a different kind of danger," Stiles stated, trying to sound casual as he leaned against the bar. "I'm desperate to get this job in the sense that I only moved to New York very recently. Getting away from my abusive boyfriend, who is into… enough shady and illegal shit that the name Hale carries weight and maybe working here will mean he won't be dumb enough to come find me again."

His hands were shaking where he'd placed them on top of the bar and he glared at them. He hated that none of that was a lie. He may not have moved to New York for the specific purpose of getting away from Theo, but it had had that added benefit. And working here would cause Theo not to try and drag him back, because this was an official undercover operation. Trying to force Stiles back would draw attention at the bureau from both their bosses. It wasn't even a lie that Theo was shady. The werewolf was a corrupt agent who'd taken payments from the Dread Doctors in the past, worked with them for his own benefit, among other bribes and blackmails.

"Take a breath, sweetheart," Peter instructed him in a soft but firm voice.

When Stiles sucked in a breath, he noticed that his lungs had really needed that. Had he forgotten to breath after he was done talking…? Lifting a hand up, he ran it over his face. He should be better at that, it had been months since he last saw Theo, he should be over that.

(But then, he should have never gotten involved in that to begin with. Why was he so weak? Why was he so stupid? He should have known better, he was smarter than that, stronger than that, he-)

A hand grabbed his shoulder, jerking him out of his thoughts and forcing him to look into the startlingly blue eyes of Peter Hale. "Breathe."

Stiles took another shaky breath and one more, closing his eyes tightly in an attempt to keep from crying. He was a damn FBI agent, he would not cry about his shitty ex in front of the crime lord he was supposed to investigate, damn it. He rubbed more forcefully against his eyes.

"Sorry. This was a stupid idea. You're right, why would a fancy place like this hire someone off the street? I shouldn't have bothered. Sorry for wasting your time, I think I've embarrassed myself enough for the day and will bow out now."

The hand on his shoulder tightened its grip and Stiles couldn't help but note how very careful the Alpha wolf was with that, because it was still not enough pressure to even bruise, just enough to make Stiles aware of the hand again and stop him from going. Stiles turned to look at Peter.

"What kind of job did you have in mind for yourself," Peter asked softly.

"I don't know, whatever you need? I was a bartender in college, I do think I'm qualified for security, I know self-defense and am a deadshot with any gun, I'm a good driver, I can be your assistant, I can clean, I don't care, I just…"

"Bartender," Peter stated with a thoughtful expression, turning toward the blonde girl. "Delegating that will free you up for… other work, Erica. Take Bambi here under your wing, show him the ropes, test his skills – not just at cocktail mixing but his social skills with our clientele too – report back to me within a week and we'll see."

Stiles blinked doe-eyed at the man. "Bambi? No, wait, you're actually giving me a chance. Actually, no, getting back to the name. Bambi?"

"You haven't exactly introduced yourself," Peter cocked an amused eyebrow, flashing his perfectly white teeth at Stiles. "And you got those pretty doe eyes. They make you look like… prey."

Oh god why did Stiles feel like the gorgeous Alpha werewolf (and ruthless crime lord with an unproven but confirmed kill count) was flirting with him? Or threatening him. Why did he not know the difference between those? He was so fucked.

"Stiles," he blurted out, because why not dig himself deeper. "My name. It's Stiles."

Oh, he was so, so fucked. That was his actual name. But then he couldn't give his cover identity's name. His heart would stumble over the lie. Fuck, he had to figure out a solution for that.

"Be here at five tomorrow," Peter instructed, then smirked. "Bambi."

/break\

When Stiles got home, he dumped his backpack, kicked off his shoes and simply collapsed onto the couch, right on top of his roommate, who gave a soft groan in protest.

"Sti—iles, you're heavy," Scott complained.

"Lie," Stiles mumbled, burying his face in Scott's chest. "You have werewolf strength. I weight nothing to you. Now shut up and bear the weight of my misery."

Scott shifted around beneath him to get more comfortable. "What do you mean by 'misery'? Is… Are you… Did it not go well?"

"Depends on how you look at it," Stiles sprawled a little more. "The good thing: I got the job. The bad thing, part one: I had to blow my cover, because, bad thing, part two: They're werewolves."

Scott went completely rigid beneath him. "What. Fuck, Stiles, you have to get out of there. We can't deal with werewolves. Plural? How many?"

"I don't know. But everyone present today – the four Hales, plus four others – definitely were werewolves," Stiles heaved a sigh. "So, no lying. So, no fake cover-story."

"You're insane for not getting the fuck out of there right away," Scott scowled at him. "You can't deal with a whole pack of werewolves, especially not while the FBI is keeping tabs on us. You do something magical, they may notice and we're both fucked."

"Why does Stiles look miserable? And why are you cuddling without me. Scoot over."

Stiles grumbled but obeyed, allowing their third roommate to also climb into Scott's lap. The wolf heaved a frustrated sigh at being used as a seat by them both, but Stiles knew he didn't mind. Wolves were tactile, physical contact was important to them and considering Scott didn't have a pack, he only had a fox and a Spark, that meant he relied even more on it.

Scott and Stiles had been best friends for as long as Stiles could remember and when a rogue Alpha bit Scott when they were sixteen, Stiles had been right there with him, helped him through the change. They made it work, just the two of them. Only when the two of them went to Quantico for their training – Stiles driven by hisfascination with the law, Scott driven by his severe daddy issues, hoping that following his dad's footsteps would mend the broken relationship – did they find a pack. There was a surprising number of wolves in the FBI and they found each other. Stiles still wished it had only stayed the two of them, because a member of that pack had been Theo.

The bright side, the only good to come out of joining that pack, was Kira Yukimura. An amazing and sweet and clever kitsune who may not have needed pack, but friends. Her and Scott had dated for a while, that was how she'd entered their lives and the pack, and even after the breakup, the three of them had forged a strong enough friendship that she was still part of them and somehow, Scott and Stiles had turned into Scott and Stiles and Kira.

"Well," Kira nudged Stiles with a foot. "Why are you miserable?"

Blinking, Stiles tore himself out of his thoughts. "Right. Yeah. Uh. Turns out the Hale family is more like the Hale pack and I walked into a den of werewolves."

Kira gave a yelp and then accidentally smacked him in the face with her flailing. "What? No! You walked into a pack of werewolves who are known killers without backup?!"

Scott gave a distressed noise of agreement and Stiles rolled his eyes. Why did people always fuss about him. Sighing, he sat up and ran his fingers through his hair.

"I did well enough. I won't be able to lie, but I've always been good at bending the truth-"

"Still convinced you're part fae," Kira injected.

"Thank you for the compliment," Stiles nodded pleased. "So I'll be fine. I just have to be careful."

"Wait, how did you get the job if you couldn't use your cover story?" Scott frowned at him.

Stiles winced and did some complicated hand-gestures. "I… improvised a half-truth sob story that had Peter Hale sympathetic enough to give me the job."

"How," Kira and Scott chorused in bafflement.

"The man has no mercy," Kira argued distressed. "And now he has claws and fangs oh god I'm so glad he didn't notice you were lying and just ripped your throat out on the spot."

"Yeah, that!" Scott nodded wildly, pointing at Kira. "He is completely ruthless. And I'm saying that as the one assigned to the Argents, who are notable sociopaths through and through. Peter Hale is known to kill anyone who even vaguely poses a threat to his family. Which. Oh. I guess makes even more sense if he's actually like the Alpha? Protecting his pack."

"I told them about Theo," Stiles cut in, then started biting his lip at their stunned silence. "It was the best half-truth I had to offer that may make them sympathetic enough to give me a chance. Hiding from my abusive ex and seeking the protection of a known crime family to do so because he's a criminal too. No lies there. Well, a bent truth since I didn't come here to hide from him."

As always when Theo was brought up, Scott made a soft noise and collapsed forward to hug him tightly. There was a time when it had been Scott and Theo, running along with Stiles and Kira. Scott had been so in his relationship with Kira and wrapped up in the nice, sweet facade that Theo put up that he'd eaten it up. Stiles couldn't blame him, he'd fallen for that act too, until it was too late and he didn't know how to get out of it anymore because Theo had made himself such an important part of Stiles' life, had driven a wedge between Scott and Stiles by becoming Scott's new best friend and monopolizing Stiles' time as his boyfriend. Stiles took a shuddering breath and clung onto Scott.

"Doesn't matter, that's in the past," Stiles whispered firmly, not letting go.

"And it'll never happen again," Scott promised, nose buried in Stiles' neck. "I'll never not have your back again. I thought he was the one for you, I thought you chose to spend all your time with him and that it was okay and I could spend more time with Kira that way and I should have never let any relationship at all get between us. You're my brother."

Stiles' hands in Scott's shirt tightened some in relief. When it had been at its worse, he thought he was all alone. Theo had twisted him up so much, he'd thought he had lost Scott for good, that his best friend would take Theo's word over Stiles'. But when it all came to an end, he didn't. Scott didn't doubt him for a second, how could he, they were brothers, they'd survived the hell of Beacon Hills together. Stiles buried his face in Scott's neck.

"So you really want to pull through with this? Stick with the mission still?" Kira asked softly. "Even though they're werewolves?"

"I know how to handle werewolves," Stiles mumbled, voice muffled by Scott's shoulder. "Especially since I know what I'm up against, I think I can handle it."

"Not alone," Scott argued distressed. "You need backup."

"I'm supposed to be the girl in the van," Kira heaved a long-suffering sigh and tilted her head back. "Okay. Okay, fine. I'll be there. I'll be your backup, Stiles."

"You don't have to," Stiles argued.

"I do," Kira fixed him with a glare. "We're pack. We got each other's backs."

A small smile tugged on his lips. Yeah, they were. The three of them. Even without an Alpha, even with only one actual wolf in it, they were pack. He wrapped an arm around Kira to hug her.

/break\

Nobody should be able to accuse Peter Hale of being soft. The only people who could do so were his pack, his family. No outsider should ever see Peter be soft though.

"You're glaring," Chris said, voice rough. "Was sex not enough to get you out of your head, babe?"

His beard scratched along Peter's neck, making the Alpha shudder and bare it a little more. He was an Alpha werewolf, he did not submit. But then Chris Argent was… nothing he'd ever seen coming, in any respect. A hunter, an Argent. Yet he was the first one outside his pack to make him soft. Made him melt beneath the man and allow himself to relax in a manner he hadn't allowed himself since the fire, since his family had died. The irony, considering it had been Chris' sister who killed them.

"New kid starts today," Peter heaved a sigh. "New bartender."

"You hate hiring new people," Chris pointed out with a raised eyebrow. "And you never put outsiders front and center into your club."

"Yes," Peter hissed softly. "This one managed to get under my skin."

A teasing and curious smirk spread over Chris' lips as he rolled onto his side, supporting his head with one hand. "Do tell me how. I'd love to learn from the kid."

Peter flipped him off with a glower. "This doe-eyed twink came in talking about how he's trying to get away from his abusive ex and that the 'Hale name' would scare the guy off enough to not come after him here."

Chris hummed curiously and wrapped his arms around Peter's waist to pull him close. "You're usually not one to cave to sob stories. Don't get me wrong, I feel for the kid too, but letting a stranger into your territory always poses a risk."

"You should have seen the kid," Peter heaved a sigh and rested his forehead against Chris' shoulder. "He was so shaken, his heart was racing uncontrollably. He was on the verge of an actual panic attack just talking about this ex. That's not something one can fake. It…"

"It made the Alpha in you stir to protect?" Chris guessed knowingly.

Peter humpfed, hating that he couldn't argue with his lover on this. Chris was right. The pretty little thing had stirred Peter's instincts in a way only pack should. He never let strangers close enough to give them the chance. He'd never listen to a stranger's sob story under normal circumstances. But the kid's clear lie, followed by his panicked, racing heart, when walking in had made the Alpha tense enough to go and make sure his pack was safe himself. And then the kid got him hook, line and sinker, with these big, pretty doe-eyes and the vulnerability.

"You're not the only one who has to put up with a new kid," Chris heaved a sigh, annoyed now. "Kate hired this boy, Scott, to work the register at the shop."

The Argents were illegal arms dealers. They were also legal arms dealers though, running the Silver Bullet gun shop chain with stores throughout the country. The store in New York was special though, it was where their family had their main seat. So far, Chris' daughter Allison had manned it, a way to ease her into the family business in small steps, but she was now doing her Master's and it demanded more time so they told her to step away from the work and focus on her studies.

"Not a pretty doe-eyed twink, then? Judging by your reaction?" Peter teased.

Chris sent him a dark glower at that and it had Peter laughing. "He got the whole happy, friendly puppy dog thing going on. I don't trust it one bit. The kid's shady."

Peter hummed curiously and leaned over Chris to kiss him, slow and deep. He cherished these soft mornings, when Chris managed to sneak off and spend the entire night with him, wake up with Peter, instead of having to return to his loathsome family. Peter wished he could keep Chris, but he knew the retaliation of the Argents would be devastating if they knew about Chris and Peter's relationship. He'd already lost a pack and a family to their wrath, he couldn't do it again.

/break\

Stiles' first day at the Blood Moon started out well-enough. Erica greeted him with a bright smile and a hug and then showed him around the club. The tall guy who'd kissed and scent-marked her before was her boyfriend Boyd, who did security. The two lurking blonde guys were Isaac and Jackson. There was one more member of the inner circle that hadn't been present last time. Jackson's fiance Lydia, who was 'Peter's personal assistant'. By the way Erica said it, Stiles assumed that she did a lot of the illegal dealings of the family. She had a vicious and deadly air to her, but she didn't really come off as a werewolf to Stiles. That had him particularly wary; he didn't like not knowing what he was up against.

"So you're Peter's little charity case?"

Stiles raised his chin in defiance at the redhead. Though her tone wasn't exactly mean, the sharpness of her eyes had him defensive. Like she was trying to strip away his layers to lay his core bare before her. As though she could see through lies that even werewolves couldn't detect. The scary thing? Stiles' gut told him that she might.

"I guess I am," Stiles ground out.

"What's your name?" Lydia asked with an innocent smile.

Stiles took a small breath, trying to calm his nerves. "Stiles."

"That's not a name. Sting and Cher have full names too," Lydia pointed out.

"Stiliyan Johnson," Stiles gave after a moment.

Erica, Jackson and Cora, the only wolves close by, raised their heads at his obvious lie. Damn, they were all so bad at being subtle. He'd given his name, Stiles, last time, because he'd panicked about being unable to lie and thus being unable to use his previously concocted fake identity. Him, Scott and Kira had spent all of last night brewing up this new fake identity for him.

"Did you know," Stiles started cheerfully, looking at Erica. "That the rate of abusers tracking down their victims is significantly lower if the person hiding actually changes their identity instead of just… still living under the same, easy to track name that the person they're hiding from knows?"

The wolves relaxed some. It was such an easy not lie. What he said was technically the truth, a fact. With no word had he claimed that this was the reason for his fake name, but he had given them enough to leap to that conclusion themselves. And leaping they did.

"Not to accuse you of lying," Lydia started.

"But you're gonna accuse me of lying anyway," Stiles cut in dryly and then hopped onto the bar to have some leverage in height. "Your boss believed me. That not good enough around here?"

Lydia's gaze could cut through steel. "I trust our leader's judgment, but not blindly. That is reckless. I'm his Left Hand and I act accordingly."

Left Hand. Stiles tensed minutely at that. The enforcer of a pack. This girl with her high heels and perfectly manicured nails who wasn't a werewolf was the enforcer of the Hale Pack? He'd assumed Derek Hale. Second oldest member of the pack, second oldest of the Hales.

Her lips tucked up barely a millimeter as though he'd just given her something valuable. This was like playing chess against the devil. The devil did look good wearing Prada, he had to admit.

"What do you need that I can convince you then, Left Hand?"

He put just enough emphasis on the title to catch not just her attention. It was a term that should confuse humans, should make him, at the very least, just ignore it. Skip past it. Not use it. Stiles propped himself up with his hands curling around the top of the bar, leaning his body back.

"It just seems so… convenient," Lydia narrowed her eyes. "That you walk in here with a sad enough story to make nobody question how you even know what our… club… does."

"It's not exactly the best kept secret," Stiles raised an eyebrow at her. "The Hale family is notorious in the underworld of this country."

"And why are you familiar with that underworld?" Lydia raised one corner of her mouth barely so, a mockery of a smile really. "You walk in here and we know nothing about you. Your background, your family history, how you are involved in the less savory. Only a fake name and a sad story."

Despite the interrogation and despite the way this conversation was, once again, drawing the other wolves out of wherever else in the club they had been busy before, Stiles forced himself to stay calm and relaxed. Even though he was well-aware that if he said the wrong thing now, gave them even just a small reason to perceive him as a threat, he wasn't going to get out of here alive.

Peter Hale entered the bar last, languished steps but as regal and elegant as ever. A predator on the prowl who knew he had nothing to fear whatsoever. Stiles knew that shouldn't get to him the way it did, but oh boy did he want to be Peter's prey.

"Like I told your… leader…" Stiles deliberately drawled that out, but he kept his gaze on Lydia now. "My ex was involved in these kind of things."

"What kind of things would that be," Lydia raised her eyebrows.

"He's a corrupt FBI agent who blackmailed criminals of all kind," Stiles replied willingly.

Lydia tilted her head intrigued. "Blackmailed. How does an FBI agent blackmail criminals?"

"By promising not to rat them out to the hunters within the bureau," Stiles shrugged. "Not making charges stick is easy enough for criminals, dodging wolfsbane bullets proves a little harder."

The tension in the room could be cut with a knife and Peter's eyes burned hot into him. Stiles opted to ignore him, keeping his focus on Lydia instead, who looked like she finally got what she wanted.

"My ex is a werewolf. And I'm fairly confident that he won't be foolish enough to cross into another Alpha's territory, much less an Alpha with the kind of reputation Peter Hale has," Stiles paused; in for a penny, in for a dime. "You know the kind of injuries a wolf can leave on a human and how fucking small and helpless he can make you feel, if he wants to? And he wanted to."

Did this count as therapy? Stiles was fairly sure this should count as that therapy that Scott and Kira kept pushing he should seek. He was technically kind of talking about the abuse! That must count for something, right? Sure, with a room full of criminals that he was supposed to arrest at the end of it all, but still. Licensed professionals were so overrated these days.

"You know," Peter murmured, sounding curious but wary.

"You… aren't being subtle about it," Stiles turned to look at the Alpha, blinking large eyes as innocently as he could. "The scent-marking, the way you are so obviously listening in on conversations you shouldn't be able to even hear. The growling too, honestly. And the Left Hand."

"Oh, that was on purpose," Lydia hummed dismissively. "I suspected that there is more to your tale than you admitted in front of the pack. I was laying the bait to see if I was right. A human not in the know may have simply dismissed it. You took it."

"Also on purpose," Stiles countered casually. "Not too much point in lying to werewolves, is there? Though you're not a werewolf. Which makes your position of Left Hand all the more intriguing."

"Your ex is a werewolf, but you aren't," Lydia's eyes wandered down his body slowly, like she was cataloging him. "I have a feeling you're not entirely human yourself though."

"You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine," Stiles offered a razor-sharp smile.

She was magic. Not a magic user, but some kind of very powerful creature infused with magic. That much, he could tell. His own magic sparked around her, lighting up in warning. She was dangerous. A well-deserved Left Hand, even if he couldn't name what she was. Yet.

"Let's see you earn that," Lydia gave him a bemused look before nodding toward her Alpha. "He's still hiding something, but what he says is the truth. I don't sense him being a danger."

Was that an insult or a compliment? That he was being underestimated, or that he was so good at hiding what he was – both supernaturally as well as the fact that he was FBI himself – that he didn't register as a threat? To be determined, he supposed.

"Why didn't you bring up the werewolf thing when you first walked in?" Isaac asked curiously.

"Yeah. 'I need a pack's protection from a dangerous werewolf' would have probably been a more guaranteed route than the one you took," Cora agreed, one eyebrow raised.

"I was perfectly fine with you not knowing that I know about the supernatural," Stiles shrugged. "I'm not looking to join a pack. Did that once and it brought me nothing but trouble. A bunch of people who believed my abuser over me just because they shared their moonlight runs and fur."

He couldn't keep the sneer off his face as he hopped off the bar. They'd all been so easily manipulated by Theo. Easier even than him. Sure, Theo had effectively preyed on his insecurities and dug where the ground was already shallow enough, but the pack? They'd eaten it up. Theo had such an easy time twisting them against Stiles, isolating him, leaving him helpless in a manner that made breathing feel impossible. He glared at his shaking hands with hatred.

"I just… want to put that all past me," Stiles forced out with raw honesty.

"Then you've come to the right place, darling," Peter offered him a sharp smile.

/break\

Malia frowned, her eyes fixated on the cute girl who'd been in for the past three nights now. She stood out, because she was easily the prettiest girl in the entire club, with the cutest smile. And cute was dangerous. Erica was cute, but Malia had seen her cut someone in half with her claws before. Lydia was pretty and poised and easily the most dangerous member of their pack, after Malia's dad.

"You're glaring," Cora accused her, nudging her leg under the table.

"She's here again," Malia whispered back. "The pretty girl."

"Malia has a cru—ush," Isaac smirked at her.

"Shut up," Malia growled, flashing her eyes blue for just a second. "She only ever shows up when it's Stiles' shift and always leaves around the time he does too."

The playful look left Isaac's face and he frowned at her. "You think, what? He has a stalker?"

"He said his ex was a guy, but who's to say that the ex won't hire someone to keep tabs on Stiles, spy on him and get his schedule," Malia pointed out.

They'd all done something similar in the past with their own various assignments. The look on Isaac's face darkened. Cora narrowed her eyes into the direction of the pretty girl. In the end, it was Derek who got up. He may not have spoken much to Stiles yet, but he'd grown protective of their new bartender after hearing the boy's story. Knowing what it felt like to be vulnerable and taken advantage of, to be used and exploited by someone who should be their equal partner. Malia, Cora and Isaac exchanged a look before quickly following their Right Hand.

"Who are you?" Derek growled, slamming one hand down on the bar next to the girl.

Her eyes widened and she spilled half her drink as she stared up at him like a bunny faced with a wolf. The other three betas came to stand in a half-circle around Derek, additional intimidation.

"Wha… I… I just want a drink?"

Derek drew his eyebrows deep, his glare alone enough to cut steel. Ready to do more to make her talk. It was Stiles rushing over, eyes as wide as the girl's, who go Derek to back up a little.

"Derek! What the hell are you doing intimidating customers?"

"She's been stalking you," Cora argued, glaring. "What if she works for your ex?"

Stiles' eyes widened even more. Malia wasn't sure how that was physically even possible, but she did understand why her dad called him Bambi. He was very prey-coded that way.

"That's my best friend!" Stiles yelped, wrapping his arms around the girl from behind. "Kira, meet my clearly overprotective co-workers. Derek, Cora and Malia. Guys, this is Kira. She is here to keep an eye on me for… pretty much the same reason you guys are now cornering her. Relax."

Kira offered a shy smile and a wave. Malia tilted her head. So the cute pretty girl wasn't a danger to Stiles. She was still not as innocent as her cuteness made her out to be, this up close, Malia could smell the lightning on her. Stiles smelt like lightning too, yet they were… different. Pure, raw electricity, divine power was what she could smell on Kira. With Stiles, it was like a mixture that made up a perfect lightning storm, she could practically smell the wind and clouds too. It was confusing, because these were both powerful scents. Too powerful for humans.

"Why don't you buy Kira a drink to apologize for this, Mal?" Cora suggested, shoving her cousin.

"But the scary one threatened me," Kira argued confused, pointing at Derek.

"Because Malia found you suspicious," Isaac offered helpfully. "So she owes you the drink."

Malia glared at her traitorous pack-mates before reluctantly sitting down next to the pretty and powerful girl. Kira smiled at her and Malia's heart did a weird little stutter.

"Hi," Malia offered reluctantly. "I'm Malia. Can… I buy you a drink?"

Kira practically beamed at her. "I'd like that!"

/break\

The only reason Chris could go to the Blood Moon unbothered was because his family wouldn't come near the place. The territory lines between Argents and Hales had been drawn for years now, ever since Laura and Peter had found out about who caused the Hale Fire.

Laura's retaliation for the fire had cost many members of the Argent operation, including actual Argents, their lives. Gerard's brother Alexander, Chris' wife Victoria, to name their own most prominent losses. The Hales in return had lost Laura, leading to Peter becoming the Alpha.

Gerard had always held more love for Victoria than for Chris, wishing the ruthless woman would have been his child instead, a worthy matriarch to the family. He'd thrown that into both Chris and Kate's faces plenty, after her death. Chris was too weak, Kate too unhinged.

It wasn't even that Gerard disapproved of the Hale Fire that Kate had laid. He was disappointed by the fact that she let it be traced back to the Argents at all. A failure and disappointment that had earned the most devastating blow to the family empire that it had seen in centuries.

All that meant was that, as long as he was careful enough in getting to the Hale territory, he was safe once he was in it, away from prying eyes. With the man he loved and the pack that had become family to him. He wished, more than anything, that he could take Allison and live with the Hales.

But Kate, as the supposed current matriarch (though nothing more than a puppet to their father) and Gerard, with his iron grip on the family business, would never allow it. They'd rather burn down everything than let that happen. And there were the loyal employees and allies to his father's cause.

Trying to desert the Argent name to be with Peter would be a certain death sentence for those few Hales who had lived through the Hale Fire and the territory war. Chris couldn't do that to them.

"Welcome to the Blood Moon. What can I get you?"

Chris looked up as he sat down at the bar. The bartender looked at him with thinly veiled surprise and recognition, like Chris was the last person he'd expected to see here. Interesting. Though the surprise made his pretty brown eyes look oh-so big. Chris understood in that moment what Peter had meant with the pretty doe-eyed twink.

"You must be the new kid," Chris noted interested. "Whiskey. The good stuff."

"I, uh, yes," Bambi nodded awkwardly.

What was Chris supposed to do with that? How did the twink recognize him? He could feel himself grow more guarded and careful. Isaac slipped into the seat next to him, bumping shoulders.

"New kid knows," Isaac whispered to him.

But how much, was the question? Once Bambi put the drink down in front of Chris, Chris grabbed it and went to the backroom. Lydia sat at her desk in front of Peter's office, with Cora and Malia perched on either side of the desk, talking softly about the family business.

"Hey, girls," Chris smiled and briefly scent-marked them both. "Miss Martin."

"Mister to-be Hale," Lydia replied with a deadly smile.

It never sounded like teasing, it always sounded like a promise when she said it. Like the death of Chris' family and consequent union between Chris and Peter was merely a matter of time. It was oddly comforting. She motioned at the office, letting him know that Peter was in and available.

"Why did your twink recognize me?" Chris asked as soon as he stepped into the office.

"My twink?" Peter raised both eyebrows. "Didn't know I had any kind of claim on the pretty boy. He's only been working here for a week. Not doing a bad job. People really seem to like him."

The Alpha stepped up to him to pull him into a kiss and Chris put his whiskey down on the desk, effectively caging Peter between his arms. The wolf allowed it, a pleased grin on his lips. Chris crowded closer against him, until their crotches brushed against each other, electing a low, pleased growl from Peter, Peter's arms wrapping around Chris' shoulders loosely.

"Wait. What do you mean by 'recognize'?"

Chris sighed at the mood killer and put the slightest distance between them. "I mean that he looked at me with recognition and mild panic that he was clearly trying, and failing, to cover up."

"Mh…" Peter narrowed his eyes, though he didn't look too worried. "We learned a little more about the boy. Apparently, he knows about werewolves. His abusive ex is a werewolf."

Chris' face darkened at that. A human was already bad enough to have as an abuser, but werewolf strength and, depending on the situation, a pack's backup made the situation all the worse.

"So you think he may know about the Argents?" Chris asked lowly.

That could pose a problem, if the boy went babbling to Chris' father. Peter kissed his temple.

"Stop worrying, it causes unnecessary lines on your handsome face, dear."

"I thought you like all the lines on my face," Chris countered dryly.

"I do," Peter chuckled. "Make you look all distinguished and hot, but we do try to avoid the ones caused by worry. The boy is… mh, not harmless, but I doubt he'll cause that kind of trouble."

"Not harmless," Chris repeated, frown deepening. "What kind of trouble do you think he'll cause?"

"Lydia and I are quite in agreement that the boy's not human either," Peter chuckled, delighted by it. "We just can't quite pinpoint what he is. So there is a big chance he will invite trouble eventually, even if it's just his ex tracking him down. In which case I will gladly sink my claws into the mutt."

Peter flexed said claws with a manic look on his face. Having become the head of the family and taking care of the more boring aspects of the business sometimes made Chris forget the ruthless and effective Left Hand he used to be for both his sister and his niece. Chris grabbed his face and pulled his wolf into a deep, hungry kiss. Murderous Peter always had that effect on him.

"So we're not worried about the kid?" Chris asked one last time, just to be sure.

"He's in our territory and we wildly outnumber him," Peter raised an eyebrow. "We're keeping an eye on him, but no, for now… I am leaning toward believing his need for safety."

Leaning toward meant that he wasn't a hundred percent buying it either though. He may believe it to be true, but he wasn't believing it to be the main reason why the kid had wandered into the club. Chris wondered what kind of spell Bambi had put on the big, bad wolf to get away with his life like that. Lies were not tolerated, someone coming in under false pretenses would rather be torn apart to set an example, instead of being given a job.

"You want the boy," Chris accused Peter in a dark rumble.

A lazy smile spread over Peter's lips when the wolf shrugged. "I do not mind the eye-candy. He's pretty to look at. He could be a fun little treat for us to share, Christopher."

Hot breath puffed against Chris' neck as Peter dragged his lips along the hunter's pulse, making Chris shudder. Well, Chris didn't oppose a pretty little treat…

/break\

"Christopher Argent was at the club. The Blood Moon club. The club run by the Hales."

Stiles brought a certain focused calm to these news that his best friends just loved. They liked to call it 'unhinged frantic energy' though, but Stiles decided to agree to disagree on that matter. Both Kira and Scott looked at him wide-eyed.

"Allison's dad? The really very scary one?"

"No, Allison's other dad, the one with the comfy sweaters and dad jokes," Stiles rolled his eyes pointedly. "Yes, Chris Argent, firstborn of Gerard and Adeline Argent, widower of the last Argent matriarch Victoria Argent, born Arquette of the Louisiana Arquette family."

Taking a shaky breath, Stiles collapsed between his roommates on the couch. "I think I covered up my shock over the werewolf thing better than my shock at seeing an Argent in the Hale club."

"Do you think he realized?" Scott immediately looked troubled.

"I genuinely don't know," Stiles sighed and rubbed his face with both hands. "He grabbed his drink and disappeared into the backroom – Peter's office. Which fucks with me even more, because it means the Argent wasn't just in the club to spy or be inconspicuous. He went there to see Peter."

"Okay," Kira worried her lips. "You'll both have to investigate that. If there is some kind of alliance between the Hales and the Argents, we may be in far deeper than we thought…"

Groaning, Stiles tilted sideways to rest his head on her shoulder. This whole mission had gone off the rails so damn hard. He was dancing around the layers of secrets, not just with the Hale Pack during the mission, but also with their handler during debriefings. He couldn't disclose the supernatural. Not to mention how emotionally raw he felt from how often he had to bring up Theo.

"I think I actually hate all of this," Stiles whispered lowly. "I should have become a librarian, the way I always wanted, instead of fooling myself into joining the FBI…"

"You're like the best investigator ever," Scott argued. "Law enforcement was totally made for you."

Only that it wasn't. He'd always had problems with the law. Not just with abiding by it, but also with it in general. He was too vindictive and petty for it, thought taking it into his own hands worked better than to apply the proper channels most of the time. Sure, he loved research, nobody at the bureau had been better than him when it came to the investigative side of things, but this job wasn't what he'd pictured, or what he wanted, really. The paperwork alone, the handlers, the idiots in charge, the people who kept putting obstacles in his way instead of making his job easier.

Sometimes, he felt like he'd be better fitted on the other side of the law. His eyes wandered over to his two best friends. That wasn't a thought he could allow himself to entertain and maybe that was precisely why he had joined the FBI, to try and prove to himself that he was a good person, that he could abide to the law and do the 'right thing'. If not for himself, then for Scott and Kira…

/break\

Stiles heaved a slightly frustrated sigh. He'd been working at the Blood Moon for a month now and though he'd managed to install some bugs and cameras, he had yet to enter Peter Hale's office. If Peter wasn't in, Lydia sat guard in front of it. And there was no getting past her.

At least his backup was effective. Ever since the Hales had cornered Kira, she had become a welcomed and accepted part of the club, mostly with Malia flirting with her. That first night, they'd shared drinks and then a dance that was absolutely not PG rated. But at least nobody was questioning her presence anymore, since she was now here to see her girlfriend.

"Peter wants to see you in his office," Jackson informed him.

Stiles' heart stumbled a little and Boyd shot him a curious look. "It is never a good sign when the boss wants to see you in their office. I'm getting fired, aren't I?"

That had Boyd snort a little. "I think it may be 'a good sign' in your case."

Well, wasn't that ominous. Furrowing his brows, Stiles walked past Jackson, leaving him behind the bar to fill in. The other boy ran a casual hand down Stiles' arm. Something that had started about three weeks ago. The pack kept scent-marking him. Sometimes consciously and sometimes on instinct. This… wasn't good. Them growing attached and protective because of the tragic backstory he'd shared with them? Fine. Sure. But not… genuinely attached. He couldn't deal with that.

He also couldn't deal with how attached he was growing to them. Jackson was a bit of an asshole, but the two could argue back and forth for hours. Boyd was calm and understanding but never held back on calling anyone out on their bullshit either. Erica was the absolute light of his fucking life, she was sharp and cheeky and a flirt to boot and the two had spent hours talking about DC Comics already, their shared love for Batman and Catwoman uniting them against Derek, who was way too obsessed with Superman. Derek was a looming, growling presence who had scared Stiles at first, but he soon learned that the other was simply protective of those he cared about because he'd already lost so much. Isaac was a little shit with whom Stiles had played the occasional prank on, mostly, Jackson. Cora and Malia were both very direct and they didn't take any shit and Stiles kind of adored them for it. Lydia was still absolutely the scariest person Stiles had ever met, but she was also brilliant and clever and the two had talked until the rest of the pack tapped out one by one.

Stiles liked them. Was growing too fond of them, too comfortable with them. The danger of undercover work, when the fake and the real blended together too much. He was so screwed.

"Mister Hale? Jacks said you wanted to see me?"

The Alpha looked up at him with a smile. "I believe I told you to call me Peter. Repeatedly."

That man was too gorgeous for Stiles' own good. Biting his lip, Stiles sat down opposite Peter. What was happening? Was Peter onto him? Was this how Stiles was going to die…?

"You've been working for me for a month now and I wanted to check in and see how you're doing," Peter's eyes were confusingly soft. "How are you getting along with everyone? Liking the work? Have you… heard from your ex, since you started here?"

Oh. Peter was concerned about him. Well, damn. Peter Hale, ruthless killer and head of one of the most notorious crime families in the states, was concerned about him. Stiles blinked repeatedly.

"I… I like the club. It's honestly nice here. I enjoy it more than I expected," Stiles said honestly. "Everyone's been great. Well, after I learned to decipher Derek's eyebrows. He was hella intimidating before that. And… And no, I haven't heard from Theo."

Peter's eyes sharpened. Damn it. He slipped. He shouldn't have said the name. Well, there were certainly enough Theodores in the FBI to not be a problem… right? Stiles shifted in his seat.

"I'm glad to hear that, Stiles," Peter offered him another smile.

And then the Alpha got up and walked around the desk, to stand right next to Stiles. He leaned against the desk and looked down at Stiles in a way that had Stiles' heart racing.

"You know wolves have very good noses, don't you?"

Had he given himself away somehow? Peter knew, didn't he? Stiles took a slow breath, trying to calm his racing heart and not give himself away any more.

"I… am aware of that, yes?" Stiles offered after a moment.

"I can smell the arousal on you when you're around me," Peter said casually, a bemused smile tugging on his lips. "I can hear your heart race whenever we're alone. So, I'm going to ask you this only once, because I don't want to push the issue if it is unwanted: Do you want me, Stiles?"

"W… What?" Stiles sputtered, eyes widening.

"People can be aroused by others without wanting them. Attraction isn't someone one has to act on, or even has to want to act on, sometimes it's just passive appreciation," Peter shrugged. "And I wouldn't want to make you feel pressured, that's why I waited a month to approach you about it. If you don't want me, tell me to back off, no harm done, I'll drop it forever. But you are… gorgeous and witty and delightful and I would be a fool not to speak up."

"No harm done," Stiles echoed stunned, wary.

Yeah, right. Because denying his boss' advances – the Alpha werewolf's advances – the Alpha werewolf who was a known killer – would totally come without any repercussions. Peter was gorgeous and funny and so far, had not harmed a hair on Stiles, but Stiles wasn't naive or blind. A finger curled under his chin, gently lifting his head to make him look up at Peter.

"I kill and torture people for a living," Peter spoke softly. "People who deserve it, people who have wronged me or those I consider mine. I have no need to use violence to force someone to be with me, darling. I do understand the concern, even more so with your… past. But if you tell me to back off, I will. There are lines I refuse to cross, and this is one of them."

Stiles wasn't a wolf, he couldn't hear lies, but he could see them. He was the sheriff's son, had grown up watching interrogations and then done his own fair share even as a teenager. He knew when he was being lied to. And Peter was staring at him with utter honesty in his eyes. He should absolutely not let this mission become a honeypot mission, but oh, the honey looked so sweet…

"I don't know if your secret boyfriend will be a fan of that," Stiles challenged instead.

He'd seen Chris Argent sneak into Peter's office often and long enough over the past month to give him a very good idea what exactly was going on. Scott still thought there was some alliance, and maybe there was – but not between the Argents and the Hales, just one Argent and one Hale.

"Interesting," Peter tilted his head, seeming intrigued. "What do you think you know?"

"You and Mister Argent aren't as subtle as you may believe. And my new 'not getting into shitty relationship situations' policy also applies to horning a to the teeth armed hunter."

Peter laughed, throwing his head back. The fingers under Stiles' chin moved to trace his face, making him shudder just a little. When the Alpha leaned in, his eyes flashed red and Stiles could feel want pulse through him. That was hotter than it had any right to be. He swallowed hard.

"Christopher would love to have his wicked ways with you too, darling," Peter whispered into his ear. "But we thought we'd ease you into that idea by me propositioning you first."

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck. Peter Hale and Christopher Argent wanted a threesome with him. His dick jerked painfully at the mental image, breath hitching, followed by soft panting. There was a purring sound rumbling in Peter's chest at that, clearly pleased by the reaction. But then Peter pulled away from him, looking at him with a smirk.

"Tell me no and I'll drop it. Tell me yes and I'll take you upstairs to my bed and show you just how good it can be with a werewolf who knows how to appreciate their partner."

The desire in Stiles was primal. It wasn't even just sexual, it was all-consuming. So far, Peter had shown him nothing but appreciation. Checking in with him, praising his work, snarking back and forth with him. Stiles wanted him, desperately. Deep down, he knew that Peter would treat him with respect, the magic in his marrow knew this for a fact. In the same way it had always made him wary around Theo, but he had ignored his instincts back then.

He wasn't going to ignore them this time around, not when he could have something he wanted.

Getting off the chair, he practically leaped at the Alpha, wrapping his arms around Peter's neck and pulling him into a passionate kiss. Peter jerked a little when there was an electric jolt as their lips connected, but then he was eager to dive in and plunder Stiles' mouth with hunger and greed.

"Legs. Up," Peter ordered.

For a moment, Stiles was confused, but then Peter grabbed him by the underside of his thighs and oh. Okay. Stiles was quick and eager to wrap his legs around Peter's waist when the Alpha hoisted him up, easily carrying him out of the office.

"I'll note you down for a long lunchbreak, Alpha," Lydia sighed in exasperation. "When Chris comes over, am I telling him that you are in a meeting not to be disturbed…?"

"Darling?" Peter asked, dragging his nose along Stiles' jawline.

"Huh?" Stiles blinked dazed, breathless and mushy after just one kiss.

"Will Lydia be telling Christopher to not disturb us, or can Christopher join us for 'lunch'?"

Oh, Peter was really leaving that up to him too. A part of Stiles was still too used to being told what to do. Which was ridiculous, all his life he'd opposed authority, rebelled and done whatever he wanted. And then Theo had twisted his way into Stiles' life and ever so slowly wrestled control away from Stiles, so slow and sneaky that by the time Stiles noticed his schedule and even the people he was spending time with were controlled by his boyfriend, it felt too late. He'd been too isolated to do anything about it, had no idea how to get control back.

With his legs around Peter's waist, the Alpha's teeth scratching over his pulse and his large hands cupping Stiles' ass, somehow, Stiles felt more in control than he had in the entire year he'd been with Theo. Peter looked at him with reverence and near devotion, as though he'd follow any command Stiles gave. If he'd ask to be put down, Peter would, right on the spot. If he asked for this to never be brought up again, Peter would be nothing but professional, the way he'd been so far. If he said he only wanted Peter and not Chris, then Peter would tell Chris to stay away. And if he asked for Chris… then Peter would gladly invite his boyfriend to a threesome.

"I think afternoon delights are great for sharing," Stiles declared with a grin.

"That what you are, sweet thing?" Peter asked amused, pressing kisses down Stiles' readily bared throat, human teeth scratching over sensitive skin. "An afternoon delight?"

"I will have you know," Stiles interrupted himself with a gasp when Peter sucked a hickey on him. "That I am always a delight. Mornings, middays, afternoons, evenings, nights. All time delight."

"I'd love to test that," Peter's voice was a dark purr and he squeezed Stiles just a little tighter.

"I'll let Chris know, but please leave my office right now."

Lydia threw them the most scathing glare. Laughing, Peter carried Stiles out of the office to the staircase that was only accessible from back here. The one leading up to the Hales' home. From the blueprints, Stiles knew that on top of the club was a huge penthouse – the size of the club, obviously – where he by now knew the entire pack to live. Peter adjusted Stiles to hold him with only one hand so he could unlock the hand-print lock that gave way to the staircase.

They kept kissing all the way upstairs and into the apartment, Stiles could not tear his lips away from that hot, cunning mouth. He knew he should be looking around, cataloging everything about the apartment, check to see where he could best place bugs or cameras, but Peter's eyes were too pretty to look away from and Stiles' hands were so busy pawing at Peter's chest.

"You really are a kitten, mh?" Peter commented on the latter, grinning amused.

"Shut up, big, bad wolf," Stiles hissed back. "I haven't had sex in a year. And it's been even longer since I last had good sex. So excuse the horny."

Something about his words caused Peter to sober up some, which was not where he had wanted to go. He wanted the Alpha to throw him onto a bed and devour him whole. Not look seriously at him.

"If you change your mind, at any point, tell me to stop and I will," Peter said, voice too earnest for comfort. "If I do anything you're uncomfortable with, tell me and I'll stop. Do you understand?"

Stiles nodded, though he stared at Peter completely lost, unsure what to do with that. So, to end this weird moment, he captured Peter's lips in another kiss, effectively distracting the wolf and getting them back on track. Peter continued walking, finding his bedroom even blind. A soft gasp escaped Stiles when he got thrown onto the very large, very comfortable bed with the luxurious sheets.

Swallowing hard, Stiles got to watch completely enthralled how Peter slowly stripped down. Button for button getting popped, the shirt pushed off those broad shoulders, baring that firm, muscular torso, the fly being undone and pants and black briefs getting shimmied out of, until the Alpha stood before him, completely naked. Only wearing a slightly cocky grin.

"I can smell how much you enjoyed the show, sweetheart."

Damn werewolf senses. Stiles flushed and shrugged out of his shirt just so he could throw it at Peter, which made the man laugh. The laughter died down when he looked at Stiles though and the raw want in Peter's eyes made Stiles' breath hitch. He wasn't anything special, really. Sure, he had some muscles, Quantico training was hard after all, but he was all pale skin, gangly limbs and more moles than he cared to count. They'd always bothered Theo. Feeling oddly self-conscious all of a sudden, Stiles lifted his hands to cover himself.

"Don't hide," Peter requested softly. "I want to see all of you, Stiles."

He pressed another kiss to Stiles' lips, this one sweeter than the ones before, and then his lips slowly trailed down Stiles' neck and then his torso. It didn't take Stiles long to realize that Peter was following the trail of his moles, pressing kisses onto every one of them.

"What," Stiles gasped out. "What are you doing?"

Peter, with his mouth pressed just above Stiles' hipbone, looked up at him. "Mapping your body."

"Yes, no, I noticed that," Stiles rolled his eyes. "I mean the-"

He gave a vague motion at the moles that Peter just pulled away from enough to have this conversation. Peter frowned and looked back down, seeming confused by Stiles question.

"Christopher and I had a bit of a bet going on, how far your moles reach," Peter grinned at him. "I am pleased to see that I am winning, so I'm mapping out the path of victory."

"What," Stiles stared at the wolf in utter confusion.

Leaning over Stiles, with his hands on either side of the Spark's head, Peter smiled, wide and pleased. "They're like… stars in the night sky. I want to connect all the dots and see what kind of pictures they paint. Trace every constellation with my tongue."

Once again, Stiles had no idea how to react. This crime lord kept saying and doing stuff that was way too – Stiles didn't even know! It was weird and confusing and his head felt all fuzzy at it.

"You… like them?" Stiles couldn't help but ask.

Peter cocked his head like a confused puppy, not a murderous and dangerous predator. "Yes? They're quite fascinating. You're gorgeous, darling. Can I get back to admiring you with my mouth, or do you have any more questions for me to answer…?"

Shaking his head, Stiles allowed himself to fall back onto the mattress and just let the wolf do as he pleased for now. Sneaky fingers opened Stiles' pants, but before he as much as tugged on the waistband did Peter look up at him. Waiting. Oh. Stiles nodded wildly and only then did Peter pull Stiles' jeans and underwear off, leaving him just as naked.

"Tell me what you want, Bambi," Peter asked, sitting up.

"For the big, bad wolf to devour me," Stiles grinned cheekily.

Red eyes flashed at him and a smile with too many too sharp teeth was aimed his way. "Gladly."

"Uh, but please put the fangs away before you get near my dick."

Peter huffed out a laugh and swatted very gently at Stiles' thigh. When he was back on all four, his face was all human again and then those lips were wrapped around Stiles' cock. Gasping, Stiles arched his back off the bed. He reached out to bury his fingers in the always so well-kept hair, completely messing it up in his need to hold onto something. A teasing finger prodded against his hole and he gladly spread his legs farther, silently begging for it because yes, yes, please, holy shit, he needed Peter inside him. And then Peter pulled off, causing Stiles to whine in frustration.

"Don't you make the cutest noises, sweet thing. The upper drawer next to you, get me the lube, will you? I'm not doing this dry, Bambi, I want you to enjoy yourself."

It took embarrassingly long for Stiles' brain to catch up with Peter's words but when it did, he scrambled to get the lube. Peter smiled pleased at him and placed a kiss to the inside of Stiles' knee.

"Good boy," Peter teased while coating his fingers in lube.

The wolf paused and stared at him in surprise at the needy sound that Stiles was unable to bite back on. Groaning, he covered his face in embarrassment. Peter laughed softly, rubbing his stubbled cheek against the sensitive inside of Stiles' thigh, which made the Spark shudder.

"Don't be embarrassed, that was a delightful sound," Peter's voice was darker. "Now, be good for me and relax, mh? I'll open you up for me and suck you off and only after you came, I'll fuck you."

"With how good your mouth is, that won't be long."

Again did Peter laugh and it made Stiles' stomach flutter. Theo had hated when Stiles would talk during sex, especially when he'd quip. He always took it as an offense, like Stiles wasn't focused enough on the sex, which meant Theo wasn't satisfying enough. He wasn't, but that was a different conversation altogether. Stiles just liked talking, he always talked, he never shut up. And making quips was second nature to him, even in serious situations.

That mouth returned to his dick and the now lubed up fingers did far more than prodding. Stiles gave up. All the noises he would be embarrassed about, he let them out as he melted beneath Peter's administration until all his muscles curled up and then uncurled in what may be the most relaxing orgasm he ever had in his life, like years of stress melted away from him. With three of Peter's fingers buried inside him and the Alpha's tongue lapping his slowly softening cock clean did Stiles simply swim in the after bliss. Peter's breath was hot and tingly against Stiles' thigh.

"Tell me if you want more," Peter whispered. "Or if that's enough for now."

"I was promised your dick," Stiles managed to lift his head enough to glare heatedly at the wolf. "You can't make promises like that and lie about it."

"I'm not…" Peter huffed amused and shook his head. "I'm just checking in if you are still up for that, or if you want to tab out for the day. I'd be more than fine just curling around you. You smell so deliciously sated right now."

Huh? What? Stiles blinked at the wolf with large, confused eyes. "But you haven't gotten off yet?"

"I can jerk off, or take a cold shower," Peter shrugged. "I wanted to get my mouth on you for weeks, so I would be quite content like this too."

"You absolutely need to stop saying weird shit like that," Stiles requested with a shake of his head. "And please, for the love of all the gods, put your dick in me. Like, right now."

The Alpha looked displeased at first, but brightened some at the second request. "I can do one of those things, darlings. And it will be a pleasure for the both of us."

And then he sat up and lubed up his cock and all thought fled Stiles' brain anyway so no more arguing with the hot werewolf who was about to fuck him. He was still so sensitive from his orgasm that he shuddered when Peter pushed in. The Alpha bent over him to kiss him, tongue invading Stiles' mouth just as Peter's dick pushed deeper and deeper into him.

The pace Peter set was slow, near lazy. As though he was dragging this out, savoring every second of being inside Stiles. It soon had Stiles reduced to a whining, desperate mess, with every slow drag of that big, nice cock against his sensitive rim, every brush against his prostate.

"Pe—eter," Stiles whined in frustration, clinging onto the Alpha's shoulders. "Harder, please."

"Mhmh," Peter shook his head. "I want to show you that a real wolf can control himself, sweetheart. I'm going to take you apart nice and slow, gently undoing you."

"I'm undone! I'm undone!" Stiles groaned. "Fuck me into the mattress, please."

"Oh, don't I have perfect timing. What a pretty picture you two paint."

Stiles' head snapped over to the hunter in the doorway. Chris' eyes were dark as they dragged over the both of them, one hand undoing the buttons on Chris' shirt while the man approached them.

"Hello, dear," Peter sat up to pull Chris into a kiss, even as he kept thrusting into Stiles.

"I was told that we would be sharing an afternoon delight up here," Chris raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Stiles. "That you, sweet thing?"

Stiles' stomach flipped. That was what Peter had called him too earlier, when they'd had that conversation. Did that mean Peter and Chris had talked enough about him, in this capacity, to have the same train of thoughts there? The same pet name, in this context?

Chris leaned over him, cupping Stiles' face to make the Spark look at him. "Hey there, I know Peter can be mighty distracting, but I'll need you to focus on me for a second, baby. Can you do that?"

"Yes," Stiles gasped out, blinking to try and focus his vision. "What?"

"Lydia told me I'm expected up here. And now I want to hear from you if that's true."

"Yes," Stiles stared into those steel-blue eyes, getting a little lost in them.

"What do you want with me?" Chris asked, a smile making his eyes crinkle prettily.

All Stiles could do was blink in confusion. "What?"

"You want me to just sit here and watch, I'd be more than happy to," Chris motioned to an arm chair in the corner of the room. "I know you and I don't know each other well, so if you just invited me up to not feel guilty about having sex with Peter behind my back, that's quite fine. Or… I can join you, in whatever capacity you want, baby doll."

These guys were so weird and they made his brain feel all mushy and dizzy and overwhelmed. He turned his head toward Peter, who had stopped moving when Chris had started talking.

"Tell us what you want, sweetheart," Peter requested.

He was rubbing Stiles' thigh in an encouraging manner. For a couple breaths, Stiles just… stared. Both these men – powerful, deadly, ruthless men – were staring down at him with the most tender expressions, filled with desire but also patience. Waiting for him to tell them what to do. There was an odd rush of power to that but also a pleasant warmth of appreciation.

Turning toward Chris, Stiles grabbed the man's face with both hands and pulled him into a deep kiss, his tongue tracing along Chris' teeth, prodding deep, the man's beard scratching him in a near pleasant way. Chris grunted into the kiss, holding Stiles by the back of his neck.

"I want you to fuck me into the mattress as soon as Peter is done, since he seems set on torturing me with slow, tender sex," Stiles gasped out. "And I am going to die from it. You up for that?"

Chris looked pleased and hungry as he nodded. "More than happy to oblige, sugar."

Peter huffed amused but he finally started thrusting again, while Chris got undressed. Seeing the hunter's hard cock – hard for Stiles, because Chris, apparently, was also attracted to Stiles, holy shit – made Stiles all the more eager and honestly, Peter had been dragging this out for long enough at this point. Truly torturous. So Stiles decided to help him move it along a little. He rolled his hips and clenched down around the wolf, making Peter growl out and finally, in the last thrusts, pick up the pace, before the warmth of Peter's orgasm filled Stiles up.

"Little tease," Peter muttered and pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek. "So impatient. One day, I'll have to tie you to the bed and edge you for a couple of hours, show you what torturously slow means."

One day? Stiles blinked up at the Alpha in wondrous confusion. So this… wasn't just a one time threesome offer? He didn't dare voice the question, too afraid of the answer, so instead he focused on Chris. Watching the man lube up his own cock. He wasn't as long as Peter, but definitely thicker and it made Stiles shudder in anticipation. When Peter pulled out, Stiles clenched down as best as he could. The Alpha collapsed sideways on the bed and threw one arm over Stiles' waist.

"I'll need you to relax a little, baby," Chris requested, fingers tracing Stiles' hole.

"I know, I know," Stiles pouted a little, cheeks flushing. "I just like… you know…"

"I'm afraid I don't," Chris raised one eyebrow, looking like he genuinely didn't understand what Stiles was trying to imply. "You'll have to use your words."

"Being full of cum," Stiles spelled it out, embarrassment coloring his cheeks even darker. "I don't wanna spill any of Peter's cum."

Both men made startlingly dark noises at that. Peter pulled him close enough to kiss, filthy and wet and so desperate, the press of his fingers on Stiles' skin near possessive in their intensity.

"If you relax now, Christopher can add another load," Peter promised darkly. "Fill you up nice and full, would you like that, sweetheart? Having both our cum inside you?"

Stiles gave a needy little whine and did his best to relax so Chris could push two fingers into him to see how open he was, before replacing them with the hunter's cock. Stiles shuddered, overly sensitive after just having been fucked. His cock was fully hard again, bouncing as Chris penetrated him. The hunter groaned pleased when he was fully seated inside Stiles.

"You feel so good, baby," Chris leaned over Stiles, but his lips hit Stiles' cheek instead, dragging toward his ear to whisper darkly. "You feel even better than I imagined and knowing that you're already full with Peter's cum, that you were already so good for Peter and got him off and are still so eager for me? Aren't you perfect, sweetheart?"

The praise made his head feel hazy and all Stiles could do was whimper. Thankfully, Chris actually listened to Stiles' request. His thrusts were hard and sharp, pinning Stiles to the mattress, pounding away at his prostate until Stiles felt too incoherent to even beg, completely overwhelmed by pleasure. The hunter's calloused hand wrapped around Stiles' cock and it felt so different than the perfectly smooth hand of the Alpha before, but oh, it felt just as good. Chris jerked him off rough and quick, just as he fucked him hard and deep.

"You gonna come on my cock, baby?" Chris asked, pulling nearly all the way out just to harshly thrust back in. "Gonna be good for me and come, let me feel you tighten up around me?"

Stiles keened and bucked up into Chris' hand, spilling all over his own belly and Chris' chest. When he sank back down again, he felt positively boneless. He just laid there and let Chris fuck into him until the hunter also came. The feeling of Chris' cum filling him up, had Stiles sigh contently. Stiles was too out of it to really hear what was being said but he saw Chris and Peter talk for a moment.

"Stiles, darling," Peter kissed his cheek. "You did very good. Can you tell me what you want now?"

With a distressed noise did Stiles shake his head. This was entirely too much, he couldn't make Stiles make a decision now. What kind of decision? Why? He just wanted to lay here, nice and full, with the two men he had been slowly falling for over the past month.

"You want a bath, get cleaned up? Peter and I will take care of you," Chris offered.

"No," Stiles protested displeased. "I'll drown."

Chris huffed amused and gently cupped Stiles' cheek, making the Spark nuzzle into the touch. "We wouldn't let you drown, baby. We won't let anything bad happen to you."

Stiles felt dizzy from the honesty in his voice. Thankfully, Peter distracted him with a kiss.

"If Christopher pulls out now, you'll have a sticky mess that will be very unpleasant later."

"Don't pull out?" Stiles offered with a frown.

Chris, kneeling between his legs, raised his eyebrows. "That's gonna be uncomfortable, doll. For both of us. Do you mind a toy? Would you like for us to plug you up, let you keep all the cum inside you without making a mess?"

Stiles perked up a little at that and nodded. That sounded like an acceptable compromise. Peter chuckled and rolled over to reach into the nightstand again, producing a box of butt plugs that was still sealed. Why did they have new, unused plugs in their nightstand…? Peter took out the second smallest of the five and, once Chris pulled out of him, the Alpha carefully and gently eased it in.

"There you go, sweetheart," Peter smiled pleased and kissed his cheek.

For a moment, Stiles was content, but then he frowned, watching Chris leave the room. Why was the hunter leaving? Had he gotten the sex he wanted and was now going back to wherever he came from…? Stiles should be used to that, he really should, but it still stung, because he liked to cuddle. Peter pulled Stiles up against his chest, distracting him a little, until Chris returned. The cum was wiped off the hunter's chest and he was carrying a washcloth. Oh. Okay.

"Let me clean you up a little, baby," Chris requested. "And then you can nap, okay?"

Stiles nodded and allowed Chris to wipe down his torso with the warm washcloth. Both the Alpha and the hunter kept whispering warm words of praise, telling him how pleased they were with him, until he drifted off into a very blissful sleep.

/break\

Stiles woke up about two or three hours later, judging by the shadows cast from the windows. He was still in Peter Hale's bed, with his head resting on Chris' torso and Peter wrapped around him from behind. He could feel Peter's fingers gently dancing over his stomach, the Alpha's breath puffing against Stiles' neck. He was in bed with Christopher Argent and Peter Hale. After they'd thoroughly fucked his brains out and – shifting a little, he noted the pleasantly full feeling so, yup – plugged him up with their cum still inside him. His cheeks went dark-red.

"Awake, darling?" Peter asked softly, licking a stripe up Stiles' neck. "We really knocked you out there, mh? You were out like a candle. Did you know you fidget and twitch in your sleep?"

"Yeah," Stiles winced a little. "Sorry about that."

"I find it quite endearing," Peter stated. "Can't stay still even in your sleep, mh?"

"You feeling okay, doll?" Chris asked, tracing Stiles' face with one hand and directing his attention toward the hunter. "Does anything hurt or ache? Are you hungry? Thirsty?"

Stiles wasn't entirely sure what to do with all of that, so he just shook his head. "I'm fine. Sorry for, uh, falling asleep on you? That… was more than just a lunch break…"

"No need to apologize," Chris pulled him closer so he could kiss Stiles. "Peter's right, we did knock you out. So that's on us. Maybe we were a little much for the first time, huh?"

First time. Stiles remembered some promises of hours long edging last night. So they really did mean to do this again? Not just a one time fun thing to spice up their relationship? Was he going to become a regular booty call for two of the most notorious men of the city? He should probably not feel as hopeful and excited as he did. This was a mission. He should put them behind bars.

"Stay here," Peter ordered, pressing a kiss to Stiles' shoulder. "I'll get you food."

"But I just said that…" Stiles trailed off, watching the Alpha head out of the bedroom already.

"He did steal you during lunch," Chris chuckled. "And it's been over two hours since then. You should definitely eat something. And drink something."

"Just because you guys are certified DILFs does not mean you need to dad me," Stiles said pointedly. "Because that is so not my kink, actually."

"Duly noted," Chris' eyes sparkled amused. "And we're not 'dad-ing' you, we're just taking care of you. That's a thing we want to do for you, doll. Spoiling you too."

Stiles couldn't help it, he was disarmed in the face of the man's casual honesty. "W… Why?"

"Because we want you," Chris pulled him into another kiss, soft and loving and gentle. "Not just for our bed. We want you to be ours, baby. And we take care of those who are ours."

Stiles made a soft noise and helplessly leaned into Chris' chest. What was he supposed to do with these two ridiculous, ridiculous men? Arrest them. Right? Not… fall for them.

/break\

Sometimes, their lovely boy would say the most devastating things in such a casual manner. It affected not just Chris and Peter. The whole pack had grown increasingly protective of Stiles over the two months he'd been working at the Blood Moon now. The ex had done quite a number on Stiles, but over the past month of taking their boy to bed, Chris had come to realize that the ex was by far not the only one to have fucked their boy up. Sure, Stiles was spectacular at not talking about himself, evading with random rambles, but every now and again, Peter and Chris would manage to get something personal out of their boy. About his mother who had died too soon, of some kind of genetic sickness that Stiles was afraid to get one day too. His father who had drowned himself in whiskey after his mother's passing. Only having one friend when growing up.

Stiles was fundamentally lonely. He'd had to take care of himself from a far too young age and it showed in so many of his mannerisms and behaviors toward the pack. That only made the pack feel more protective of him, determined to integrate him into their pack, take care of him, show him that he could rely on others. That there were people who cared about him and wanted to take care of him. Chris related to the pack on that, determined to show Stiles exactly that.

"Hey, baby," Chris smiled pleased when he spotted Stiles in a booth.

He was sitting together with Kira, Malia, Jackson and Lydia. Kira was the only concrete thing they knew about their boy. His best friend Scott, who was fiercely protective of him. But they didn't know the names of Stiles' parents, or the name of his hometown. Heck, they didn't even know Stiles' name. They didn't want to push though. Their boy was such a skittish thing, both Chris and Peter feared that if they pushed too hard, he'd up and run.

"Hey," Stiles grinned at him and leaned into him as soon as Chris sat down next to him.

Chris loved how well Stiles fit under his arm. Turning his head, Chris pressed a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. Lydia was perched just so on Jackson's lap, her head turned so she could whisper into her mate's ear, a smile on her red-painted lips, her fingers running through his hair. Chris found himself glad that they had a tame day today. Some days, Lydia and Jackson's PDA was unbearable. Other days, they were tearing into each other viciously, giving as good as they got. And then there were days like today, where they were simply smitten with each other, so in love and soft. It gave him whiplash sometimes, really. Meanwhile, Malia and Kira kept exchanging soft kisses, with Malia's arm wrapped around Kira's waist possessively.

"Is Peter gonna join us too?" Stiles asked curiously, looking at their empty bench.

Kira sat opposite Stiles, with Malia next to her and Jackson and Lydia at the end of that bench. Until Chris had sat down next to Stiles, he'd been alone on that site of the booth. By design, Chris had asked the betas for it, because today was a special day.

"Not yet, doll," Chris nosed Stiles just behind the ear. "There's someone I want you to meet first."

It was too early, wasn't it? Him and Peter had only been with Stiles for a month, yet Chris knew he was completely gone on the boy. They wanted to integrate Stiles into the pack, even if Chris himself couldn't fully be a part of it, he wanted to know Stiles safe. They wanted to make Stiles trust them. For that, the two of them decided that they needed to show Stiles some trust.

Chris smiled when he saw his daughter entering the club. She hugged Derek before turning to look for her dad. Once she spotted him, she smiled brightly at him and waved and… took her boyfriend's hand to pull him along. Chris' mood deflated a little bit. The new kid still rubbed Chris the wrong way and yes, he was well aware that most of that was due to Allison's crush on him and his crush on her. For the past five weeks, they had now been… going out. Chris refused to call him Allison's boyfriend until she insisted on that label. Until then, he remained the new kid.

"Hey, dad," Allison leaned down to hug him once she reached him.

"Hello, princess," Chris turned from Allison to Stiles. "Allison, this is Stiles. Stiles, I want you to meet my daughter, Allison. And that is…"

He trailed off when he saw the wide-eyed look on Bambi's face. The deer in the headlights, staring not at Allison but straight at Michael. Who was staring right back at him. Sitting so close to Stiles, Chris could hear the hitch of Stiles' breath the moment he looked at Michael. There was something in his eyes, akin to fear and shock and every instinct in Chris' body told him to remove whatever threat put that look on his boy's face. He gave a near instinctual growl, too many years spent with werewolves had changed some base behaviors in him.

"Jackson, Lydia," Chris barked out in a good approximation of Peter's Alpha voice.

Oh, he could see the tense lines on both Jackson and Malia and knew immediately that the weres could sense even more than Chris. Did Stiles smell as panicked as he looked? Was his heart racing? Chris wrapped a protective arm around his boy, pulling him close and putting himself more between Stiles and Michael. Once Lydia elegantly slipped off her mate's lap and took Allison's hand with a smile to lead her away, Jackson got up and grabbed Michael by the shoulder with a growl. The growl was answered by an instinctively given growl from Michael. Heads snapped around to stare.

Malia looked torn, on the one hand, she wanted to go with Jackson, on the other hand, she clearly wanted to stay with Kira and Stiles, keep them safe. Chris decided to take that decision from his basically stepdaughter by reaching his free hand over the table to take hers.

"Stay with Kira and Stiles, take them and Lydia and Allison upstairs to the apartment, kid."

Given an order, and an order to protect – protect her girlfriend, protect Stiles who had become a dear friend to her, protect her basically sister – Malia relaxed some, fierce determination on her face. Chris turned to press a kiss to Stiles' temple, trying to relax his lover. It didn't work. If anything, the panic on Stiles' face was growing as he watched Jackson lead Michael away, Cora, Isaac, Boyd, Erica and Derek falling in line, circling them. Blocking Michael from getting away. Chris got up to follow the pack escorting their unwanted guest into Peter's office, leaving Stiles safe and protected with Malia and Lydia, who had to physically stop the boy from following Chris.

"...Are we having a party that I was unaware of? My office is big but not that big."

Peter looked unimpressed as he watched nearly the entire pack cram into his office. Jackson and Boyd were holding Michael by the shoulders and arms, keeping him from attacking. As soon as the office door closed did the betas start growling. Peter tensed and put his files down, a wary look on his face. Without hesitation did Chris pull his wolfbane infused dagger from his boot to press it against Michael's throat. The wolf reacted to the wolfsbane by flashing his eyes golden.

"Your name isn't Michael Howard," Chris growled. "It's Theo, isn't it?"

"What," Peter forced the word out and was next to Chris in an instant.

"What," Michael-slash-Theo squeaked out in surprise.

"Ally decided to bring a date to me introducing her to Stiles," Chris offered. "The new kid. Who's been cozying up to Ally so suspiciously quickly. The one who has been giving me a bad feeling from the get go. I knew that puppy-dog eyed look had to be an act."

"The moment Stiles saw him, Stiles started reeking of panic," Jackson added with a snarl.

Before Chris or Peter had the chance to get this interrogation and most pleasurable torture session going did the doors burst open and in a whirlwind of flaying limbs did Stiles push past between the betas until he was right in front of Chris and Peter. Right between Chris, Peter and the man they were going to murder together. Chris' jaw set in irritation. The irritation grew when Stiles was followed by Allison and Kira, who came to stand on either side of Stiles.

"For humans, they are really fast. And slippery," Malia complained as her and Lydia followed.

"Stiles, baby, get out of the way," Chris requested, trying to keep his voice calm.

"No! Not until you explain what is going on here!" Stiles glared, chin raised and holding Chris' gaze. "Why did you just drag him here? What is… What is going on here?"

"We saw your reaction to him walking in," Malia growled, taking a stance next to her father. "And smelt it. You panicked. And look at him now, he's in beta-shift. He's a werewolf."

"I… I don't…" Stiles looked confused, staring at all the half-shifted angry werewolves around him.

"That's Theo, isn't he?" Chris asked, still gripping his dagger tightly even as he had it lowered now because Stiles was right in front of him. "A werewolf who makes you panic. He's been suspicious to me from the get go since he started working at the store. He was just laying low, biding his time, trying to find you, wasn't he? Please step aside, baby. We'll protect you."

The confusion on Stiles' face made room for bafflement. The same kind that he usually showed whenever the pack tried to be there for him, support him or help him. It hurt to see just how unused Stiles was to getting help. Though then the look on his face changed into something more complex that Chris was struggling to decipher. Horrified, confused, afraid, frustrated?

"What do I do," Stiles whispered, so softly that it had to be meant for only him to hear.

"I don't know but do it fast before your boyfriends kill me," Michael-maybe-Theo requested in a high voice. "I swear, if they kill me, I'll be so mad at you, I'll come back and haunt you."

"You're not permanently dying, I won't allow it and you know that," Stiles spoke in a distracted way, as though he'd detached himself from this situation. "I told you, if you ever die on me, I'll resurrect you. You're forbidden from leaving me."

Well, that was a… morbid and confusing thing to say. Chris frowned and turned toward Peter, silently asking if his wolf could follow this. But Peter looked as lost as Chris felt. In the end, it was Kira who cracked first, with a soft and near desperate sob.

"I… I can't do this, I'm sorry, I can't, this is too much stress, I can't watch Scott die, Stiles, this isn't… I should have never done any of this, I knew I should have quit in the first year. I should have never let you talk me out of quitting. I hate everything about this. Everything, Stiles."

"You do realize," Stiles' voice was harder than they'd ever heard it before, sharp eyes turned on not-Michael-not-Theo-maybe-Scott and Kira. "That the course this is taking right now, all three of us are likely to end up dead and I can't resurrect either of you if I'm dead too."

"Nobody is going to die here," Lydia announced with a heavy sigh. "And I can confidently say that as the local Banshee, so whatever it is you have been hiding from day one, it's time to share."

"Banshee," Stiles turned that laser focus onto her, his eyes intense as he seemed to be cutting straight through every layer of Lydia. "That… does make for an effective Left Hand, doesn't it?"

Lydia smiled, cutting and sharp, and tilted her head. "If you don't want to be on the receiving end of my abilities as the Hale Pack enforcer, you better start spilling, Stiles. I don't want to be spilling your blood and… for the first time in my career, I actually mean that. I like you. And I would much rather not hurt you. But my pack's safety comes first."

Stiles huffed out a sarcastic laugh and then lifted his hands up in surrender. "Then the blood-spilling will come after, I guess. No way out of this now, mh, guys?"

He turned his head to look at Kira and Scott. Chris took a step back, reeling from whatever was going on here. When he'd entered this office, he thought he had finally caught the threat their boy was hiding from and he'd finally get to sink a dagger and a few other choice tools into the bastard, together with Peter, the way they had been picturing for the past month now.

"I'm Special Agent Mieczysław Stilinski with the FBI," Stiles said, voice calm and even. "And these are my partners, Special Agents Kira Yukimura and Scott McCall. I was sent to infiltrate the Hale family, Scott was sent to infiltrate the Argent family. And then things got… complicated."

He winced and looked at Chris and Peter with something soft and vulnerable. Chris took another staggering step back, slowly sitting down on Peter's desk. Peter stepped up to him, taking his hand.

"You…" Malia looked heartbroken as she stared at Kira. "This was all a lie."

"No! I mean, yes, but no!" Kira stared at her desperately. "I'm not even a field agent! I'm the tech girl. I only came to the club to give Stiles some back-up after he realized you were all wolves! I didn't mean to flirt with you or fall in love with you. I never even meant to become an FBI agent. I just want to open a nice little bakery. I wanted to quit after the first year, but then I was dating Scott and became part of the bureau pack and befriended Stiles and I didn't want to leave so I stuck it out and I figured it'd be fine, as long as I'm on a team with my best friends, right? This wasn't what I signed up for. I don't like lying and I don't like using you but I really, really like you."

That girl could talk fifty miles a minute. It was charming, seeing her and Stiles just circle through topics, sometimes Chris, Peter and Malia listened to them for minutes on end, all three smitten in their own ways. Chris turned his head to look at Peter, seeing him nod minutely. At least she was telling the truth now. If she had used Malia to get to them, Peter would be ripping her heart out right now. Chris' focus shifted back to Stiles, feeling his heart break at the realization that him and Peter had been used. How foolish. Weren't they too old to fall for a honeypot…?

"How," Peter growled out, snarl on his face and eyes red. "How did you lie to an Alpha wolf?"

Stiles held his gaze, unflinching. "I never lied to you."

"That's rich coming from the FBI agent whose name we didn't even know a minute ago," Chris countered unimpressed, crossing his arms over his chest in deflection.

"You always knew that Stiliyan Johnson isn't my real name," Stiles blinked once as he turned to focus his gaze on Chris. "But Stiles is my real name. Everyone calls me Stiles, short for Stilinski. I never told you a single outright lie. Kira is my best friend. Kira did come here to keep an eye on me. Scott, the best friend since childhood that I told you about? This is Scott."

Stiles took a shaky breath and the confidence with which he'd faced them cracked just a little. "Theo wasn't a lie either. He's real. And everything he did to me was… very real too. And… And what shouldn't be real, my feelings for you, aren't a lie either. I… love you. Both of you."

Chris turned to Peter, desperate to see if those words were true. The Alpha had shifted back to human and the look on his face was the closest to hopeful that Chris had ever seen him.

"I… didn't mean to fall in love with you," Stiles blinked, tears clinging to his long lashes. "When I first slept with you, I figured it could work out for the mission, but then you had to be so… so… caring and considerate and gentle and fucking perfect. I didn't know that I could feel that… cherished. I didn't think that was possible. And then you just kept me around and wanted to spend more time with me like you actually enjoy listening to me rambling on end instead of wanting to shut me up, like you enjoy being with me and I don't…"

He took a shaky breath as a single tear escaped his lashes and ran down his cheeks. "I wasn't meant to love you. Any of you. Not just you two. This whole pack of stupidly protective puppies. I was always on the fringe of the FBI pack, not a were so not counted. Just… Scott and Theo's add on. This is the first place where I feel like I belong, where I'm wanted, and I don't want to lose that."

Kira wrapped her arms around Stiles and hugged him in comfort while Peter and Chris just stared at him, trying to digest what was being said. The whole pack was taking it all in, standing back warily.

"I have no idea how to follow that up," Scott muttered. "But I do love Allison more than I've ever loved anyone and I will not let anything hurt her."

"And where does that leave you?" Lydia asked, looking as unaffected as she could. "Or us?"

"I quit," Stiles shrugged and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "And you heard Kira. She wants to open a bakery. I heard somewhere those are great for money-laundering. Maybe the Hale family can invest in a cozy little café that caters to the very early morning post clubbing crowd."

"You're… serious," Peter stared at him in startled surprise. "You… What? You want to quit the FBI? For… To what end? Just because you think we're going to kill you for being a fed?"

"Well, I mean, I do hope it'll go a long way in the not getting killed department," Stiles nodded slowly. "But honestly, the job sucks. So yeah, let's make a deal. To get all three of us out of this alive. Not gonna touch where we stand, romantically. Really can't bear thinking about that right now. So let's talk business instead. What will it take for us to walk out of here alive? We're not… going to take you down, we quit. The case will fall apart, months of work are down the drain, the FBI will have to start over and you now know they're investigating you."

"I want everything," Lydia demanded, eyes large and greedy. "Before you quit, you'll get me a copy of every file and every bit of evidence you've gathered so far. On both, Hales and Argents. I want to use it to tear down the Argent empire."

The look on her face was mildly manic and mighty terrifying. Jackson did not hold back on pulling her into a kiss. Chris couldn't blame him, he found murder quite attractive on Peter too, after all.

"Stiles," Scott spoke up in protest. "You're not serious about throwing away your career. And if you do this, we're all in it for… This is… We'll be wanted criminals."

The face Stiles made was so indignant and offended, Chris wanted to kiss him. "Scotty, how dare you. You really think Kira and I can't be sneaky enough about this without leaving a trail? C'mon."

"Yeah," Kira tilted her head thoughtfully. "Getting everything won't be hard."

"You're not seriously considering it? Both of you?" Scott looked startled.

"Can I have a café?" Kira asked, looking at Peter and Chris.

Shaking his head, Peter motioned at Lydia, who finally pushed off Jackson again. "We've been looking into a new clean business to run our money through. This can be talked about, yes."

"You heard my head of finances, it can be talked about," Peter offered.

Pleased with that did Stiles turn around to face Scott. "I hate this job. I hate the paperwork, I hate having to justify every single thing I do – if they call me in for 'excessive use of violence' one more time, I will take a bat to their knee-caps instead – I hate our handlers and every single pretentious old agent who thinks they're so much better than us even though they can't even find their own asses, I hate having to work with your father, I hate still being part of the bureau where there is a whole pack of fucking shifters who provide each other with pack comfort but who didn't want me and who turned their backs on me when I could have needed them, I hate the fear I feel every time I step foot into headquarters because hey, theoretically, Theo could be in there any moment because I don't know where he is and what he's assigned to."

Scott gave a distressed little noise at that. "I… But… Stiles… Criminals?"

"Oh, come on, you know me better than anybody else, you know if I wanted to I could run my own organization in my sleep," Stiles rolled his eyes. "My morals have always been… flexible."

"Mine haven't," Scott argued with emphasis.

"Neither has your loyalty," Stiles hummed softly. "Even when I pulled the stupidest shit that got you turned into a werewolf and nearly got us killed a dozen times over – though let the record show your stunts have nearly killed us at least as often – you always stood by my side. And those you love. You said you love Allison. So, you gonna help arrest her father and all her friends? And her? She's not an active part of the family business right now, but she's also too close not to become collateral damage in the process, you know that as well as I do. Sometimes, the legal thing and the right thing aren't the same. Besides, you also hate this job, dude."

"I do, but…" Scott gave another miserable noise, his eyes landing on Allison.

"I'm not… I'm not part of the family business and I don't want to be," Allison offered softly. "I've always only manned the legal side of our family business. You don't have to break the law either. But you do have to… make a choice now and turn a blind eye once."

"I'll remind you of my wolfsbane dagger, in case you're considering breaking my daughter's heart."

"Never, sir," Scott blurted out immediately, tensing up.

"So that's a yes, then?" Stiles smirked smugly.

"I hate you," Scott glowered at him. "Yes, that's a yes. You're my brother and after Theo, I promised to always have your back, no questions asked. This is… You so owe me for this though."

Chris had no idea what to do with all of this. Once again, he turned to look at Peter.

"Wait, did you guys accidentally honeypot three FBI agents into joining us?" Erica asked stunned.

"It… appears that way," Peter nodded slowly, a surprised but pleased look on his face.

He stepped up to Stiles and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist, pulling him over toward Chris. When Stiles looked at the hunter, there was so much vulnerable and fragile hope in his eyes.

"You mean it, baby?" Chris asked softly. "Everything?"

Stiles nodded tentatively. "I do. I love you. Much more than this stupid job."

"Prove it," Peter demanded, even as he buried his face in Stiles' neck. "You will be coming upstairs with us and we will have a very long talk about all the things you so… artfully dodged in conversations so far. I want to know everything about Mieczysław Stilinski."

"So do I," Chris pressed a kiss to Stiles' temple. "And I want the full name of your ex."

"Okay," Stiles whispered, looking at them with his pretty, big eyes filled with awe and relief.

/break\

This was not what Stiles had planned. Not that he had a concrete plan, really. He just knew that he hated his job and loved Peter and Chris. Loved the entire pack of overly attached puppies. So when Scott had walked in with Allison, he had panicked, because he could see everything falling apart at the seams. In no way or shape had he expected them to mistake Scott for Theo though – or to be that willing to kill Theo. All of them. Because they were overly attached to him.

He was fine with quitting. He was even fine with stealing the evidence off the FBI's servers. His moral compass had always been very flexible to begin with, especially when it came to the people he loved. Kira cracking wasn't a surprise either. She did hate the job and Stiles did remember when she'd tentatively talked about quitting. Back then, both Scott and Stiles had encouraged her to stay. Back then, Stiles had thought it was just a phase of defeat, everyone in Quantico had them, and he wanted to support his friend in not giving up. He hadn't realized just how miserable she'd really been. That was on him, for being too in his own head.

Scott was the surprise. His best friend had always had a very black and white kind of world view. Right and wrong. Criminals and innocents. But then they'd seen a lot of horrors in training and on the job, cases that weren't all that black and white. And one thing that could be said about Scott was that he loved fiercely and would do anything for those he loved. Still, what he'd said about having Stiles' back after Theo? That was… It felt good to hear it, to hear the conviction in Scott's voice.

And then Chris and Peter had taken him upstairs, which was also a surprise. They hadn't killed the three of them, not even kicked them out. They still looked at Stiles like they wanted him and for the next four hours, they just laid together in Peter's bed and… talked. About everything.

All the half-truths he had told them so far, he filled them in with details. Talked about Claudia and Noah, about misadventures with a young Scott, about the bureau – that, the most, because that was his biggest omission. He talked and talked and talked… and they listened.

"You should go home, doll," Chris whispered, pressing a kiss to Stiles' temple.

Stiles made a face. "I'm very comfy right here. And I haven't even covered half of everything-"

"Sweetheart," Peter cut him off and cupped his face. "We don't expect you to give us a detailed list of everything that has ever happened to you in your entire life. We just… want the truth, okay? We want to know what, of the things you told us, is true to what degree, but even that, you don't have to share all in one go. We just want to see that you're willing to share it, at all. And you are."

"But…" Stiles trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence.

But what if you change your mind and when I leave now, you won't let me back in? What if I lose you?Stiles' breath hitched a little at the thoughts in his head and he clung a little more to Peter's shirt, leaned just a little more into Chris. Tried to keep them as close as possible.

"I have to go home too," Chris pointed out instead. "Before Gerard or Kate get suspicious. You should also go home, regroup with Kira and not-Michael."

"His name is Scott. I have said it at least three dozen times in the past four hours."

"He shall remain not-Michael until he proves he earns to be remembered by me," Chris said. "And so far, the kid who lied about who he is to date my daughter to put me in prison hasn't earned it."

"I lied to you and dated you and your boyfriend to try and put you in prison," Stiles argued with an upset frown. "That seems worse than what Scott did."

"You have the benefit of us being madly in love with you, Stiles," Peter huffed amused and pressed a kiss to Stiles' cheek. "Also, the sex. The sex is another bonus."

Fair point, Stiles supposed. And he knew how fiercely protective Chris was of Allison. Heaving a sigh, Stiles climbed out of the bed. They also had a point that he should talk to Kira and Scott in peace. They had a lot to prepare and discuss.

"C'mon, I'll leave with you," Chris smiled and took his head.

"You guys… really forgive me? For what I've done?" Stiles asked reluctantly, fearful to lose them.

"No, not yet," Peter clarified with a mild frown. "But what you've done so far isn't enough to make us stop loving you. You will have to work to regain our trust, but we love you too much to just give you up, especially since you seem willing to work for it. Now go home and rest, love. Both of you."

Peter pulled them both into kisses and then smacked them both on their rears to send them back downstairs. Stiles' heart felt a little lighter when he left the Blood Moon together with Chris, who brought him all the way back to the Jeep. Not Roscoe, Roscoe would be too telling, but when given 'a car' by the bureau, he'd still picked a Jeep. Her name was RJ, Roscoe Junior, and Stiles was going to miss her when he had to give her up again.

Before Stiles could get into his car, Chris pulled him into one last, slow kiss. "I love you, okay? Stop worrying so much and focus. I'll see you soon, baby. Be safe."

He placed another kiss on Stiles' forehead and then left. Okay. Stiles could totally do this. He was going to get out of the FBI and be with the men he loved. Things would be fine.

/break\

Things were absolutely not fine, Stiles thought three days later when he was thrown down a staircase. He tumbled down, wincing at the bruises he knew he'd get from this alone. He was woozy too, whatever they'd injected him with when they'd grabbed him off the streets was strong enough to not be cleared out by his magic right away, which wasn't ideal.

While his magic couldn't heal him the way werewolves could heal, it did protect him from poisons, washing out biological and chemical mixtures that were harmful to him. Given time, his magic would clear his system. The 'time' bit was the problem.

With a groan did he push up. He could hear muffled noises, sounding desperate. Immediately on guard, he went to stand up, hand against the wall for support. Feeling along the wall, he found a light-switch. When the light turned on, Stiles froze, eyes wide.

He hadn't really seen the pack in the past three days. Him, Scott and Kira had been busy swiping the files from the FBI's servers, stealing and destroying evidence and preparing their resignations.

So Stiles was understandably out of the loop with the Hale Pack, but he really felt like someone should have told him that Boyd and Erica were missing. He stared wide-eyed at the mated pair, strung up to the ceiling, mouths duct-taped shut, tears and sweat running down their faces.

When Stiles hurried over to them to get them down, they both made muffled sounds of protest. After he tried to untie them and got severely shocked with electricity, he realized why. Now feeling even more out of it than before, Stiles took a few stumbling steps back.

The door opened and heavy boots walked down the stairs. Despite his exhausted and drugged state, Stiles put himself between the two defenseless wolves and the unknown threat. His stomach knotted up when he saw who it was.

"Trying to free the mutts?" Gerard Argent asked with a sneer. "Know them, by any chance?"

Stiles stood tensely. Okay, good. That meant at least that he wasn't seriously poisoned. There was no way Gerard knew what he was, much less how to take him out. Which meant whatever was in his system would be cleared by his magic soon enough.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Stiles held the man's gaze. "Or who you are. Just… Just let me go, I'm not interested in your weird sex-dungeon-"

Wrong thing to say. A fist collided with his face, sending him flying to the ground. When he turned to look at the man looming over him, Gerard was looking at him with raw disgust on his face.

"Listen here, you little deviant," Gerard snarled. "You? You're here to teach my son a lesson. I thought I beat the queer out of him when he was your age. Apparently, I didn't hit him hard enough. Maybe it'll stick if I hit his boytoy hard enough."

Oh. Oh, crap. Okay. At least he wasn't here for being an FBI agent…? A foot collided with his ribs. He just had to grit his teeth and bear it until his magic would flush his system. Until then, he couldn't use it to defend himself either, because he needed it concentrated on getting the drugs out.

Bright spots started dancing in front of his face by the time the door opened again and some faceless voice called down to Gerard for urgent business. The man straightened up and looked down at Stiles as though he was a particularly persistent piece of filth clinging to the man's boots.

"We'll get back to this," Gerard turned toward Boyd and Erica. "And don't think I forgot about you two. I'll make you talk, tell me how to get to your Alpha."

Stiles' breath hitched and his eyes closed. He focused on his Spark, trying to light it up brighter so it'd burn the drugs out of his system faster so he would have full access to his magic and could get them out of here. He could hear Gerard leave, could hear the heavy door close and lock. He could also hear Boyd and Erica, trying to call out to him through their gags. Right now, he couldn't focus on them, he needed to focus on himself, for all their sake.

When there was a low electric buzz under his skin did he push himself off the ground once more. This time, it hurt though. His ribs, bruised at least, maybe cracked. His left wrist was fucked up and the entire left side of his face burned with pain. He winced at every step, unable to pinpoint which part of his leg even hurt, which may not be a good thing.

Stiles wiped the blood off his chin, running down from his split lip. "I'm going to get you guys down, but as you can see, I am not in great shape, so I'll need you to get me out of here, yeah?"

He ripped the duct-tape off Erica and then Boyd. Both wolves gasped for breath for a long moment, regarding him with wide, fearful eyes. They started protesting again, when Stiles reached up for the bindings. But this time, he had access to his magic. The electricity cackled around his wrists, harmless and friendly. He barely managed to loosen the bindings when the door opened again.

"What do you think you're doing, you little-"

Gerard came hollering down the stairs, a wild and furious look on his face. Both Boyd and Erica were screaming at Stiles to get out of the way and just run.

"Leave, get past him, get out, tell the pack," Erica pleaded with him.

"We'll be fine until they come for us, just get to safety, Stiles," Boyd urged him.

Instead, Stiles whipped around to face Gerard head-on. The electricity was curling up his arms now, like living snakes, causing all three other people in the room to fall silent. Gerard's eyes widened when his gaze locked with Stiles' and Stiles knew his eyes were burning bright teal.

"You hurt my pack," Stiles whispered, voice cutting as he reached out. "You hurt me. You hurt the Hales I never met. You hurt Christopher."

The electricity he was siphoning from the rig that held Boyd and Erica came shooting off of him, attacking Gerard like a vicious snake-pit. It wrapped around the man like rope, binding him but still shocking him. He screamed and screamed and screamed, but no sound came out. It wouldn't do to tip the rest of the house off to what was happening right now, after all, so Stiles stopped the sound waves before they could ever leave Gerard's mouth. Cracking his neck, Stiles crouched down to be on eye level with the man who was now writhing in pain on his knees.

"You hurt innocent people. Children. And people I love. That's three big no-nos," Stiles tilted his head. "You know, literally three days ago, you would gotten away with it, because I was still a 'law abiding citizen' and would have tried to gather evidence to get you put behind bars. Unlucky you, the only law I abide to now is my own. And it's really time someone ends your reign of terror."

He curled the fingers of his right hand inward and twisted his hand toward his face, like snapping something. The electric currents wrapped around Gerard's neck tighter and tighter until the man's eyes bulged. Just in the right moment, Stiles allowed sound again to hear the last pathetic little gasp for breath and a broken half plea begging for the man's life. Stiles' lips curled in a cruel smile.

"You never had mercy for others, why would I have mercy for you?"

After being drugged and beaten up, this little display of magic exhausted him much more than it should have under normal circumstances though. With a pained groan did Stiles get up and return to untying Boyd and Erica, his steps swaying a lot and his hands shaking.

"Holy shit what are you?" Erica asked in a hushed and awed whisper.

"I'm the thing hunters fear," Stiles grinned at her, all teeth and pain. "Okay. I'm seriously drained now though, I need you guys to get us out of here and I… need you guys to literally carry my weight. My leg's too fucked up to walk and crouching down to gloat did not make it better."

The last thing Stiles noticed was Erica wrapping one of her arms around his waist and slinging one of his over her shoulder to support him. Once he knew she got him, he lost consciousness.

/break\

Everything was thrown into chaos when Boyd and Erica stumbled into the club with a battered and unconscious Stiles shortly after noon. They brought the boy upstairs and recounted how they'd gotten snatched by Gerard's men on their way to the diner for lunch. Chris took a staggering, guilty step back at that. Then the hunters had thrown Stiles down the stairs, Gerard claiming he'd gotten Stiles to teach Chris a lesson. With a shaky breath did Chris sit down, the picture of misery.

"How did you get out?" Peter asked, while watching Lydia and Cora check Stiles' injuries.

Isaac, Malia, Jackson and Derek were divided in taking care of Boyd and Erica. Seeing his injured pack members taken care of, Peter sat down next to Chris to pull his mate into a tight hug, brushing a kiss against the hunter's cheek and trying to convey that this was not Chris' fault.

"Stiles killed Gerard," Boyd ground out, Isaac removing mountain ash splinters from Boyd's arm.

Everyone froze for just a second and stared at Boyd stunned. "What."

"It was absolutely epic!" Erica exclaimed, eyes wide. "He stood in front of Gerard and went 'You hurt my pack, you hurt me, you hurt the Hales I never met, you hurt Christopher' and then he like commanded the electricity that the hunters were using to immobilize me and Boyd? He used it like rope and choked Gerard and before killing him he said 'the only law I abide to now is my own'. He was a total badass and then he just… choked Gerard to death with electricity?"

Chris in his arms went rigid and Peter pulled him a little closer. Both their eyes landed on their boy, all bruised and only slowly regaining some consciousness under Lydia's treatment with some magic healing potions they usually only had to use on Lydia or Chris.

"They'll come for us," Chris whispered in a broken voice. "They're going to come for the pack with a vengeance. We… We're not prepared for an ambush like that. Kate will wipe us all out."

Peter's breath hitched, his eyes widening. Christopher was right. At this time of day, the pack were the only ones at the club. They had their claws and fangs, but the Argents had wolfsbane bullets and other poisons and weapons. They would stand no chance against the full force of Argents.

"I can buy us time," Stiles' voice was weak. "I can protect the club. We'll be safe here, until you gather all your… henchmen and minions and call Scotty and Kira too…"

"Stiles, you're clearly weak right now," Lydia chided, smacking his shoulder. "Warlocks need to recharge too, whatever you did, on top of the injuries, drained you."

"Not a warlock," Stiles grinned, dimmed but wicked nonetheless. "Peter? C'mere."

Stepping up to Stiles, Peter gently cupped the boy's uninjured cheek. "What is it, sweetheart?"

Stiles grabbed him by the collar and pulled him in. Before their lips met, Peter got a good look into their boy's eyes, seeing the beautiful amber-whiskey burn with a turquoise flame, taking Peter's breath away. The moment their lips met in a gentle kiss, a pulse of raw power went off.

"What… What did you just do?" Peter asked stunned. "What are you, darling?"

"I'm a Spark," Stiles looked pleased and exhausted, eyelids fluttering shut. "As a Spark, I can bond with an Alpha, claim them as mine. And claim their territory as mine. You're mine now and so is your territory. That extends my wards to the whole territory, meaning nobody who means me or mine any harm can enter. The hunters can bitch and moan outside the territory line, they won't get in. Go and get backup. Wipe them out. Keep us safe. I'ma pass out now, kay?"

Peter watched in bafflement as Stiles slipped back into unconsciousness. It was Chris who caught him before he fully went down, carefully placing Stiles' head on his lap, playing with his hair.

"What… just happened?" Jackson asked warily, looking from Stiles to Peter.

"It appears," Peter cleared his throat. "That we're incredibly lucky Stiles is on our side, because if he had wanted, he could have wiped our entire pack out with his magic. Now, let's do as our little Spark suggested and call in all the reinforcements we have to go to war."

/omake: three months later\

Stiles would have loved to see Peter tear Kate Argent's throat out with his claws, but sadly he'd knocked himself out with overusing his magic. The Hale territory was big and claiming it was exhausting, even for someone as powerful as him. Chris and Peter didn't let him out of their sight for an entire month, meals in bed, bringing him everything he'd ask for, coddling and cuddling him. It also gave him and Peter the chance to coax Chris back out. The hunter had retreated with guilt, blaming himself for Stiles' injuries and overwhelmed with complicated feelings about his father and sister's deaths. But at least Scotty had earned his name in this battle, by saving Allison when Kate viciously went after her niece. Stiles was glad to wake up to a better and safer world.

They quit their jobs with the bureau and officially moved into Hale territory, which, technically was now Stiles' claimed territory. Part of him had been afraid Chris and Peter would take him being a Spark well, but if anything, his power and magic competence seemed to only turn them on more. For the first time, Stiles got to use his magic without holding back, tapping into the more vicious and ruthless side of himself that he had shown when taking out Gerard. Every time he killed someone who posed a threat to their pack and organization, Peter would fuck him so hard and in such a worship-y manner that it left Stiles breathless and dazed.

"We have a present for you, baby," Chris whispered into Stiles' ear, arms around Stiles' neck.

Tilting his head, Stiles turned to look at his lover curiously. Chris was so much more relaxed these days, happier, now that him and Allison had moved in with the pack and become official members of the pack. Smiling, Stiles placed a kiss on Chris' cheek and got up to follow, abandoning Derek, Malia and Kira, with whom he'd been having lunch in a booth in the club. Chris led him to the back of the club, where the more unsavory parts of business were happening. Peter was already there, bent over someone he was working over hard. Okay, usually interrogations didn't count as presents.

"What are we doing here?" Stiles asked. "Di—id I miss something…?"

Peter straightened up and turned toward him with a sharp, murderous smile, eyes a blazing red. Stiles' heart stumbled when he saw the person Peter had been working over. Theo. Stiles took an instinctive step back, reaching for Chris' hand. The hunter pulled him in to kiss his temple.

"You're safe, doll," Chris whispered. "We won't let him hurt you. Ever again. But we just wanted to see if there was anything you wanted to say, or do, before Peter and I finish the job."

It was stupid, wasn't it? He'd so easily killed Chris' abuser, but faced with his own, Stiles felt helpless and afraid in a way he really shouldn't, considering how powerful he was. His eyes landed on Peter, ruthlessness in the man's eyes and blood dripping from his claws. The Alpha approached them and pulled Stiles into a deep, passionate kiss. One of the things Stiles had learned in the past three months was that being pack meant letting others take care of him. Just like he had taken care of them when they couldn't defend themselves. His fingers clawed into the hair at the nape of Peter's neck when their kiss parted. Chris' hands were on Stiles' waist, holding him firm.

"I just…" Stiles trailed off and stepped up to his ex, seeing recognition set in behind bruised and swollen eyes. "You were wrong. You told me that I could be lucky to have you, but you were wrong. I'm lucky to have them, and my pack. And you… You were never worth my time or attention. But I guess you're worth Peter's attention now."

With a vicious smile did Stiles turn back to his lovers. He pressed a soft kiss onto Peter's lips again and then pulled Chris over to the one chair that sat opposite Theo. He pushed the hunter down and got comfortable on Chris' lap, letting Chris wrap his arms around him.

"Don't worry," Stiles whispered, kissing Chris' cheek. "You'll get a couple rounds too. But for now, you'll sit with me and enjoy the show, okay?"

"Anything you want, baby," Chris rested his chin on Stiles' shoulder. "We love you."

A small, warm smile spread over Stiles' lips as the pained groans from Theo echoed through the room. Yes, they did. These two men loved him fiercely, the way he deserved. They made him happy, protected him, tortured and killed for him. Lucky him.

~*~ The End ~*~

---

Author's note: And once again, to probably nobody's surprise, did a fic outrun me. I swear the cardio I am getting this year by trying to run after my fics is insane. But yeah, this was supposed to be far shorter but then I had far too much fun playing around in this world. If you did too, let me know in the comments ;)