Mischief Mondays Chapter 4: Stetopher - Emergency Contact, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf || Emergency Contact || Teen Wolf || Stetopher || Teen Wolf

Title: Emergency Contact – Mischief Mondays Series

Tags: m/m/m, polyamory, Spark Stiles, hurt/comfort, fluff

Main Pairing: Chris/Peter/Stiles

Teen Wolf Characters: Mieczysław 'Stiles' Stilinski, Peter Hale, Chris Argent

Summary: Chris gets a call from the hospital. Stiles had a car accident and apparently, he's Stiles' emergency contact. When Stiles comes to it, he finds Chris and Peter hovering in his hospital room.

Emergency Contact

Mischief Mondays Series

"Do not pick up that phone, Christopher."

Chris paused at his mate's growl, his hand hovering over his phone. Peter was straddling his lap and if there was one thing that Peter hated, it was sharing someone's attention. That went double for when they were in the middle of making out, or more. So Chris pulled his hand back and instead rested it in Peter's neck to pull his lover into a kiss.

And then the phone started ringing again. At which point they both paused. Even though Peter narrowed his eyes annoyed, they were both very much aware that if someone didn't get the hint the first time, then it was most likely more pressing. And in their lives, in their pack, more pressing was more often than not a matter of life or death. Peter growled when Chris grabbed his phone, but at least he didn't say anything against it or tried to stop him.

"Hello?" Chris' voice was gruff, annoyed.

"Mister Argent?"

Chris' brows furrowed at the foreign, feminine voice. "Yes."

"Mister Christopher Argent?"

Peter was growing impatient in his lap and so was Chris. "Yes. Who is this?"

He already had to lean away from Peter, who was trying to steal the phone and throw it into a corner of the room, assuming – much like Chris at this point – that someone was trying to sell him something. He should have hung up right away when it wasn't someone from the pack.

"This is Nurse Reynolds with the Beacon Hills Memorial Hospital. It's about Mister Stilinski."

Peter, with his fingers triumphantly wrapped around the edge of the phone, froze. So did Chris.

"W… What?" Chris forced out, swallowing hard. "Why…?"

"I'm sorry but I have to tell you that Mister Stilinski was in a car accident."

Chris could see his own terror and fear mirrored in Peter's face, the wolf's hands having slipped to rest on Chris' chest now, holding onto him. Stiles. Something had happened to Stiles. Why was the hospital calling him about Stiles? Was Stiles alright?

"What… Is he okay?" Chris asked carefully.

"I'm sorry, I can't say. He is in surgery right now. It would be best if you came."

Surgery? Chris' heart started racing and when he looked at his mate, Peter was already out of the bed, grabbing his discarded shirt from the floor. Chris was fast to follow and stumble after him.

"We're on our way," Chris' voice was a little shaky.

/break\

Peter hated hospitals. He would be glad to never set foot into one again after his coma. He instinctively reached out for Chris' hand, linking their fingers nervously. His mate knew, understood, had even offered Peter to stay home and to call as soon as he knew more. But this was Stiles. There was no way Peter was going to idly sit by while Stiles was – they didn't even know, not really, not yet. Stiles had been in an accident, he was in surgery. Was it bad? Life threatening? They didn't even know yet why Chris had been called.

And there was so much waiting involved in hospital visits. Waiting to see the receptionist to learn where they had to go. Waiting to see the surgeon who could tell them what was going on (Stiles hadn't been hurt too badly, but shrapnel of the car had embedded itself too deeply in his skin to be removed without surgery. All had been removed now). Waiting for Stiles to wake up.

"He looks... fragile," Peter whispered with distaste.

Stiles wasn't fragile. He was possibly the strongest person Peter knew. The last time Stiles had looked fragile – the only time Stiles had ever looked fragile, in all the time they'd known the boy – had been during the possession, when the Nogitsune made them all believe Stiles was dying. The reminder had Peter's fingers shake slightly as he brushed Stiles' hair out of his face.

"Five more minutes, mom," Stiles mumbled sleepily, nuzzling into Peter's touch.

"Stiles? Doll, can you open your eyes for us?" Chris spoke gently but urgently.

He had come to stand next to Peter, looking down at their boy too. Stiles grumbled and wrinkled his nose in a very cute manner that had Peter wondering if that was just how Stiles woke up. Unwilling but cute. It was an image that Peter wouldn't mind seeing every morning. Sans the bandages, of course. After a moment, Stiles' long lashes fluttered, revealing those big, brown eyes.

"Huh?" Stiles blinked repeatedly, now staring up at them in confusion. "Werewolves breaking into my bedroom isn't new, but hunters are. Ally has the decency to ring the doorbell."

"We're not in your bedroom," Peter pointed out. "We're in the hospital."

Immediately, Stiles sat up, looking alarmed, just to wince. "What happened? Who got hurt?"

"You," Peter and Chris said at near the same time.

"You were in a car accident, do you remember?" Chris asked concerned, cupping Stiles' cheek.

"Car..." Stiles blinked wondrously before frowning. "Oh. Yeah. That."

Heaving an exasperated sigh, Peter sat down on the edge of the bed, carefully pulling Stiles closer so the boy's head was resting in his lap. Stiles stared at him curiously for a moment but didn't make any attempt to move away. Instead, he snuggled a little in and it made Peter's wolf want to purr in delight. Chris sat down next to Peter, near Stiles' hip, resting a hand on their boy's stomach.

"What happened?" Chris wanted to know, no, more demanded.

"Cougar," Stiles huffed when he saw the incredulous looks Peter and Chris gave him. "Yeah, no. Actual real mountain lion. Ran onto the road. I guess whatever we've been doing to the local wild life has severely fucked it up. We got mountain lions for real now. But yeah, I got startled and I tried to avoid hitting it, so I swerved and... Is Roscoe alright?"

"Mieczyslaw," Peter's voice was a dangerous growl. "You were in a car accident, could you please prioritize your own health over your car?"

"Eh," Stiles wiggled his nose. "I am conscious, I can feel all of my limbs and wiggle my toes so I'm clearly not severely injured. What about Roscoe?"

"We don't know," Chris heaved a sigh, resting a hand on Stiles' waist, gently rubbing with his thumb. "We came here, to check on you, because we do prioritize you over your car."

"I heal! Roscoe doesn't," Stiles groaned frustrated and buried his face in Peter's thigh. "This is gonna be so fucking expensive to fix, isn't it."

"Stiles," Chris cupped the Spark's cheek to make him look at the hunter. "You. You're going to be okay. there were... bits of Roscoe that were buried too deep in you to remove without anesthetics, so you were in surgery. But the doctor said they caught everything and that you will be alright."

"Great! Can I go home then?" Stiles asked hopefully. "Like. Right now. Because I hate hospitals."

Peter was carding his fingers through Stiles' hair in an attempt to sooth them both. "The doctor did say that you can be released once you wake up. However, only if you are being supervised by someone. We're... assuming your father isn't in town?"

"He's not," Stiles blinked. "But how do you know that?"

"The hospital called us, doll," Chris replied. "I'm assuming they got our number from your phone?"

"No. They got it from my emergency contact info," Stiles replied, biting his lower lip.

"Stiles..." Chris trailed off for a moment, clearly trying to figure out what to say. "Why? Why am I your emergency contact and not your father?"

The Spark turned his head away to not look at Chris, a frown on his face. "I... I can't be the reason why my dad gets that call from the hospital. The one where a total stranger who is fully overworked tells him that they're so sorry for his loss. I can't. I was there when he got that call about mom. I just... I need him to hear those news from a friendly face, in person, I..."

Peter swallowed hard and searched his husband's face. Stiles had put Chris as his emergency contact in case Stiles died. So someone else would be informed by the hospital and would then tell the sheriff. Peter wished he could say that this wasn't necessary, but sadly, their life was one of too many dangers and too many close calls. His fingers tightened in Stiles' hair ever so slightly.

"Why me," Chris wanted to know, voice soft and eyes vulnerable.

"You're like the only responsible adult aside from Melissa I know, Chris. Not you, Peter."

Peter huffed but found himself unable to argue with that. He had never been very responsible.

"Let's get you out of here and somewhere comfortable to recover," Peter suggested.

/break\

Stiles sighed contently as he settled into Chris and Peter's bed. Because they had insisted on bringing him to their place, instead of Stiles', Peter carrying him and then tucking him into their bed. Not that Stiles was going to argue. Being carried around by Peter was nice, he loved that werewolf strength and the way the Alpha smelt, so good, and he had wanted to get into this bed for such a pathetically long time now, it was so comfy, plus he was feeling a little loopy still from the whole surgery and pain meds that had been administered before his discharge and maybe just the overall aftermath of the accident, who knew.

"If you feel too loopy, you have to tell us," Chris spoke firmly.

Huh? Stiles blinked and looked up at Chris. Since when could Chris read minds?

"Darling, you literally haven't stopped talking since we got out of the hospital," Peter raised his eyebrows in fond amusement. "We've had a running commentary all through the drive here."

Oh. So the inside thoughts hadn't stayed inside. Stiles blinked, then frowned. Wait. The bit about Peter's hot werewolf strength and how much he wanted to be in their bed and hadn't he gone on a slight tangent about Chris' overall DILF energy about halfway through the drive-?

"Yes, quite," Peter smirked, voice a purr. "And I have to agree with every point you made during that little… lecture, because that was what it was. Christopher has big daddy vibes."

Chris heaved the deepest sigh and sat down next to Stiles on the bed, reaching an arm around Stiles to pull him close enough so Stiles was half resting on the hunter's chest and okay. That was nice.

"How about you just rest in this bed you apparently wanted to be in for a while?" Chris suggested softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Stiles' head. "And we talk about everything else once the pain meds wear off and you are some more well-rested, doll?"

Mh, he really loved when Chris called him that, it made him feel all happy and tingly. He smiled.

"Good to know," Chris raised one eyebrow, a crooked grin on his lips. "Good night, doll."

"Night, love you," Stiles yawned sleepily. "I'll sleep now."

/break\

"Love," Peter hissed beneath his breath as he busied himself with making soup. "He said love."

"He talked about what a DILF I was for ten minutes straight on the way home," Chris pointed out amused. "And how much he enjoyed your strength and wanted to see you use it to pin him against every wall and fuck him. I'm unsure why you are so… ruffled by this."

"Those are sexual attraction," Peter dismissed with a glare. "But love, love is… different."

The look on Chris' face was soft but still amused by Peter's near frantic actions. He couldn't help it. He'd been trying to seduce Stiles for so long now, it had started to feel like this was just their routine now. Flirting was part of how they interacted, without anything coming of it. And Peter had come to accept that. Yet here Stiles was, happily snuggled into their bed after rambling on about how much he wanted them both. Once the pain meds had kicked in, the boy's filter went out. Which had been a surprise, because Peter had been convinced the boy didn't have a filter. Yet there was so much more the Spark could talk about when he let all of his thoughts out.

Chris huffed and pulled Peter into a soothing kiss. "Calm down, wolf."

Grumbling softly, Peter turned his focus to the soup again, his emotions a turmoil. This morning, all he'd wanted to do was seduce Christopher. Then the call from the hospital had sent him down a spiral, going to the hospital had assaulted him with memories and now Stiles just declared how much he wanted them and that he, apparently, loved them? Peter needed a nap.

/break\

When Stiles woke up again, he was laying more or less on top of a sleeping Peter, while Chris sat next to them, doing crossword puzzles, with a pen. How old-fashioned. Just part of the whole DILF energy. Wait. Stiles' eyes widened in panic. He'd said all of that out loud earlier, hadn't he.

"Chris, please tell me I didn't say anything embarrassing or humiliating."

"Good morning, doll," Chris turned toward him, putting the crossword puzzle down. "No, you didn't say anything humiliating or embarrassing. How are you feeling?"

Stiles heaved a relieved sigh, relaxing against Peter's chest. "Good. Well, good-ish, I guess."

"You said some very interesting things," Peter pointed out, yawning a little. "About Christopher and I, but also about how you feel about us."

"Chris, those are the things that qualify as embarrassing and humiliating," Stiles groaned.

"Why?" Chris looked genuinely confused by this. "I found it mostly flattering and also amusing."

"Did you mean it?" Peter asked, not giving Stiles a chance to reprimand Chris.

Stiles blinked as he looked around, saw the intense but hopeful look on Peter's face, and wasn't that a surprising rarity in general. The fact that Stiles was curled together on top of Peter, with the wolf's arms around him, possessive or protective or just comforting. Not exactly the kind of interaction someone would be having with a person whose stupid crush made them uncomfortable. And Chris was looking at him all soft and warm and loving too. Okay. Huh. Stiles blinked again.

"Yeah?" Stiles tried after a moment, cheeks red. "I… uh. I did. And maybe that's kind of also why I picked Chris as my emergency contact, over Melissa?"

"Good," Peter grinned pleased, cupping Stiles' face. "I'm going to kiss you now, then you'll eat the soup I made for you and then we're all going to continue napping until you're better."

Stiles nodded. Yeah, that sounded like the perfect plan. Sans his injuries, this could be the perfect day. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the kiss. When they broke, he leaned against Chris, daringly kissing the other man too, happy to feel Chris kiss back. Maybe it was the perfect day anyway.

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: I just love writing my faves loopy and babbling things out they don't mean to say aloud! And isn't that a fun thing for Stiles, of all people? ;D