Mischief Mondays Chapter 3: Steter - Mother Tongue, a teen wolf fanfic

Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || Mother Tongue || Steter || Teen Wolf || Steter || Teen Wolf

Title: Mother Tongue – Mischief Mondays Series

Tags: m/m, Erica Lives, Boyd Lives, Jackson Doesn't Leave, fluff, hurt/comfort

Main Pairing: Peter/Stiles

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

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

Summary: When Beacon Hills' latest invading creature originates in Polish folklore, Stiles learns that Peter speaks fluent Polish. This means so much more to Stiles than he anticipated.

Mother Tongue

Mischief Mondays Series

Stiles was sitting with one leg drawn up against his chest, his arm resting on his knee so he could have two fingers more or less in his mouth, chewing absentmindedly on his nails and the soft of his fingers. Biting. This threat was making him nervous, he hated not knowing and so far, they kept hitting dead ends. It made him more nervous than normal, because it had so far involved two fires, one of them in the preserve, and the last thing Stiles wanted were fires anywhere near the Hales, Peter and Derek had already lost too much, they didn't need to relive this trauma.

Research was his thing, that was what he brought to the pack to help out, he should be getting to the bottom of this, should be useful. Scott gently nudged him, frowning concerned. Forcing a smile, Stiles freed his fingers, noticing he'd pulled a little too hard and drawn some blood, effectively drawing the wolves' attention to the scent. Scott was not the only one looking at him.

"I don't like not knowing," Stiles grumbled into the room as an explanation.

"Do we have any idea what it could be?" Derek asked.

His arms were crossed and one of the most imposing eyebrows of doom on his face. The fires were getting to him, to him and Peter, Stiles could tell by their tenseness. Derek had come a long way and was a good Alpha by now, but when there was a serious threat, he tended to slip back into old habits of growling and glaring. Boyd, Isaac and Erica were sprawled out on one couch in front of Derek, all three looking gloomy. They'd been the last ones out on patrol to encounter their current supernatural problem and it had ended not very good, to put it lightly. Stiles was sitting together with Scott and Allison, while Jackson and Lydia were sharing the love seat. And even without checking, Stiles knew that Peter was sitting on the damn spiral stairwell. The man lurked. He was a certified lurker. It was stupid. He was part of the pack like all of them, he should bring himself in more. Instead, most of the time Peter acted like being pack was a burden and like near all of them were idiots not worth his time (and Peter never failed to point out that Stiles was the exception).

"We do have some things to go by," Lydia offered. "We narrowed it down to seven options."

"Three of which are so ridiculous I am appalled you even put them on the list," Peter sighed.

Lydia narrowed her eyes at him, raising her chin. He held her gaze with a smirk. She hated not knowing too and she hated being wrong even more. Stiles' finger slipped back into his mouth, his teeth worrying at the corner of his nail. Peter's attention left Lydia and instead settled on him. It was unreadable and weird and Stiles had no idea what to do with it so he also slipped his middle finger into his mouth to bite on it nervously. The gaze intensified.

Another sigh from Peter. "It's a licho."

Stiles' head snapped over and his eyes were intense as they bore into Peter. Maybe he held his breath, he wasn't even sure because the moment felt like time froze with that one word.

"What does that even mean," Scott asked with a growl in his voice. "How long have you known?"

"It's Polish and means 'bad luck'," Peter rolled his eyes. "And it's not like I held back information. It was on our list and after today's encounter, we have enough details that I'm fairly sure."

"So you know how we can fight it?" Allison asked, resting a hand on Scott's to calm her mate.

Stiles noticed from the corner of his eyes, but his gaze was mostly on Peter. There was a stupid warm feeling in his belly at how easily the name had rolled from Peter's lips. A sense of yearning, nostalgia and bone-deep sadness overcame him and Peter turned to stare at him curiously. Again not the only wolf to turn toward him. Sometimes, Stiles hated werewolf noses. So nosy.

"No," Peter answered. "But I know where we can look. I have a couple books on them."

Derek sighed and motioned at the pack. "Okay. Everyone, field trip to Peter's."

"That won't be necessary. Or useful," Peter pointed out.

"If this is gonna be another dig at our intelligence," Isaac growled in warning.

"Not necessarily, unless you want to take it as that. None of my books are in English."

"Why not," Derek sounded so exasperated.

He got two raised eyebrows from his uncle. "Because I speak more than one language, dear nephew, and in many of these cases, it comes down to small details. Translation errors in English books can cost you and your pack your lives, so I prefer to get it from the source."

"What are our chances that any of us will be helpful?" Erica asked. "Not that I want to do research, but I would like for this to be taken care of before the next fire, or the next broken bones."

"Depends on how many of you speak Polish," Peter offered with a shrug.

Stiles' breath hitched and he stared at the man like he had just discovered something wondrous and rare, because saying the name of one creature was one thing, but this. "You... speak Polish?"

Peter tilted his head, his gaze calculating and curious. "I speak a dozen languages, darling."

"Mam gdzieś kilkanaście innych języków," Stiles knew his voice was rough and forceful. "Mówisz po polsku?" [Polish translation:I don't care about a dozen other languages. You speak Polish?]

"Tak, Mieczysławie, mówię po polsku," Peter replied with barely a hint of accent. [Polish translation: Yes, Mieczysław, I speak Polish]

Stiles swallowed hard, his chest feeling tight. It was stupid that he felt this intensely about something so small and... and unimportant. Sucking in a breath, Stiles got up and practically bolted out of the loft, feeling tears prickle in the corners of his eyes.

/break\

What Peter liked the most about Stiles, aside from his brilliant, sharp mind and even sharper tongue, was that the boy never ceased to surprise him. Though right now, Peter didn't know what to make of his reaction at all. It wasn't the first time someone stormed out of the loft because of him, but it was the first time Stiles did so. And the salty scent of tears made something in Peter's gut twist.

"What the fuck did you say to him?" Boyd's voice was a protective growl as he got up.

"I just... confirmed that I speak Polish, do calm down, pup."

Peter tried to put on a careless air, but Stiles' exit had affected him as much as the betas. Even Derek was frowning in concern, pinning Peter to the spot with an intense glare.

"What the fuck," Jackson muttered beneath his breath. "Was that reaction then?"

"Oh," Scott whispered, so very soft, Peter nearly didn't catch it.

"You know what that was about," Peter accused, narrowing his eyes at Scott.

The beta grew more uncomfortable and squirmed in his seat. But when Allison and Lydia turned inquisitive and worried looks on him and the other betas growled, Scott broke. It was endearing, just how attached this pack was to Stiles and it was heartbreaking just how unaware of this fact Stiles was. That the boy, most of the time, still thought he needed to contribute something to justify his presence when Boyd and Erica were mostly here because of him, when even Jackson had grown attached to him, when they would all tear down the town to find him if someone took him again.

"It's just," Scott shrugged, motioning vaguely. "I mean, you do know his last name's Polish, right?"

"No, I know nothing about Polish," Isaac answered truthfully, blinking. "I did wonder what it is though. Huh. So wait did Peter say something offensive?"

"No. I don't think Stiles was offended, I think he was... overwhelmed?"

"Elaborate," Lydia ordered with all the air and authority of an Alpha.

"Stiles' parents were both second generation immigrants from Poland," Scott started softly. "But his dad never, his dad's parents didn't teach him Polish. So Stiles' mom was... she taught him and she was... she was the only one he could speak Polish with. I... don't think he's had anyone to speak Polish with since... since she died..."

A heavy weight settled in Peter's stomach at that. Of course had he noticed that Stilinski was a Polish last name, but he had never thought too much about it. These things meant little, one just had to look at the McCalls. He doubted there was much Irish culture passed down there. If Peter had known that there was significance to the culture to Stiles, well, he would have subtly put one of his Polish books onto a table nearby much, much earlier to spark the conversation.

"Okay, so I am going after Stiles," Scott declared. "And you guys can figure out what we do."

Peter glared at the boy's back, wanting to go after Stiles himself but knowing he couldn't justify it to the pack in a way that would have them back off. Half of them still glared at him as though he'd insulted Stiles in Polish to drive him away. McCall better do the one thing he was good at.

/break\

"He—ey, buddy."

Stiles groaned and hit his forehead against his knees where he sat curled together on his bed. Moments later and Scott, who had just climbed in through the window, walked over to him to sit down next to him. If Stiles were to look up, he would probably see the worried puppy-dog eyes.

"I'm fine," Stiles groaned out in frustration. "I do not need a pep-talk or a hug."

"Yeah, well, too bad for you, you're getting both."

And then he had a werewolf attached to himself, hugging him with so much determination until Stiles sighed in defeat and hugged back. Leaning his head against Scott's shoulder, he relaxed.

"On a scale of 1 to 10, how embarrassed do I have to be the next time I'm with the pack…?"

"Why would you be embarrassed?" Scott sounded confused.

"Because I ran out practically crying, over something so stupid."

"Stiles…" Scott's voice got softer. "There's nothing stupid about missing your mom. And nobody thinks that it was embarrassing. Heck, Boyd was ready to rip Peter's head off actually, because most thought he said something mean or insulting to you."

Stiles groaned, burying his face deeper in Scott's shoulder. "That makes it worse, somehow."

"If you're not comfortable with this, Peter can do research alone," Scott offered.

"No," Stiles brought some distance between them, glaring. "Research is my thing! And I do… I'm not… I didn't realize how much I missed it, just… just hearing it? I would… I'm…"

Scott raised his eyebrows, staring at him patiently. "What is it, bro? You know it's okay, right?"

"It just feels like it sounds stupid," Stiles sighed. "I want to talk to Peter. In Polish. I missed being able to hear it, to speak it, but how do I ask our local Creeperwolf 'hey, would you like to talk to me in Polish?', tell me that doesn't sound stupid."

"It doesn't sound stupid," Scott shrugged. "You know mom and I don't speak Spanish at home and when we started Spanish class, it felt really exciting to me, because I only ever heard Spanish when abuela would be over. So, like, I get it. It's like a part of you that you don't get to access and that's frustrating, because you want it to be a real part of you but you don't know how."

Stiles blinked and tilted his head and yes, Scott did get it. "Thanks, buddy. That… actually helped."

Scott straight-up beamed at him at that and hugged him again. "You know I love you, dude."

"Don't get cheesy," Stiles huffed, smiling against Scott's shoulder. "I love you too, buddy."

/break\

The thing that Scott was pretty sure Stiles didn't realize was that Scott was very aware of how much Stiles already liked spending time with Peter. Scent gave away a lot and Stiles' behavior did the rest because he'd long since stopped complaining about having to do research with Peter. Scott guessed that Stiles enjoyed having someone match his mind – that was, far as Scott thought, the main thing Stiles had been in love with about Lydia too. He was so, so, so smart, he needed someone smart to match him, but he'd gotten over Lydia a while ago.

Scott was absolutely not going to bring it up first, because this was Peter and Scott was still trying to get used to the fact that Peter was now on their side and that they were all in the same pack, he really didn't think he was ready yet to consider Peter and Stiles with a potential of being Peter and Stiles. But he was working hard on mentally preparing himself for the possibility so he could be supportive for his best friend if and when the time came, because the age gap alone was going to cause a lot of judgment and thus a lot of anxiety for Stiles. And after how utterly supportive Stiles had been of Scott and Allison, even when things were messy and the werewolf-hunter thing stood firmly between them and it made Scott and Stiles' lives harder than it had to, Scott knew he owed Stiles the same blind faith and support. Even if it was Peter.

When Scott reached the loft again, everyone was still in and still arguing. There was also still some glaring at Peter happening, especially from Boyd and Jackson. Now, while Scott was adjusting to the idea of Stiles having feelings for Peter, Scott was absolutely not adjusting to the fact that Stiles and Jackson were friends now. That was just wrong. Stiles was his best friend.

"Is he okay?" Erica asked with a concerned frown.

"He's… embarrassed," Scott ruffled his hair. "About the running out bit. So I need you guys to be normal about this and not, like, fuss too much, because I think that'll just embarrass him more."

He went to sit next to Allison, smiling at his mate when she rested a hand on his, giving it a gentle squeeze. Nothing calmed him down the way she did and he wondered if Peter looked at Stiles that way too. Not that he wanted to think about that too much, but he knew how much he loved Allison, how fiercely his wolf adored his mate. He saw the deep bond between Erica and Boyd. He knew how unreal the complicated relationship between Jackson and Lydia was and how much stronger it had grown since Jackson turned into a proper werewolf. There was something raw and primal about the love a wolf felt, so much stronger and more intense than anything Scott had ever imagined.

And he knew the way Peter looked at Stiles. Peter never made a secret of favoring Stiles, often enough claiming that Stiles was the only one with a brain, the only one worth a conversation. The favoritism was so blatant and obvious and the only reason Scott could imagine was that if Peter's wolf had chosen its mate too, in Stiles. Which had gone a long way in Scott adjusting to the idea of there maybe being a Stiles and Peter, because Scott knew how overwhelming the wolf's pull was and he also thought that Stiles deserved that kind of love. Even if it was with Peter.

"Did you guys come to like any kind of agreement or something while I was gone?"

"Not really," Erica glared and motioned at Lydia. "She doesn't speak Polish."

"Just because I know archaic Latin doesn't mean I speak every language," Lydia huffed.

Jackson growled lowly at Erica in warning, his arms around Lydia's waist. Scott rolled his eyes.

"I'm perfectly fine working alone," Peter looked unimpressed. "I'd prefer it, to any of you."

Derek heaved a sigh. "Peter will do the research with his books, we're splitting up between doing another round of patrols and searching the internet and English sources."

"Stiles wants to help," Scott offered after a moment. "He just, you know. He hadn't expected that and needed some time to clear his head. But he wants to help. So, he's with Peter."

Scott wanted to growl at the way Peter perked up at that, but he suppressed the urge. "I'll text him to meet you at your place, then. And we split up."

"I'm not giving you my address," Peter stared at Scott disturbed. "Not even to pass on to Stiles."

Even while typing, Scott snorted. "It's cute that you think Stiles doesn't know where you live."

That got him a cackle out of Erica, Isaac and Jackson. And with that, the tension in the pack finally melted away and they slipped back into their normal dynamic, assigning jobs to everyone else.

/break\

By the time Peter reached his apartment, Stiles was already sitting on his couch, shoes kicked off and socked feet tucked under his thighs. Scott was of course right, as much as Peter hated to admit it, there was no way Stiles hadn't figured out where Peter lived, regardless of how well Peter guarded that from the pack. The boy was too curious and also too suspicious. He probably tracked Peter down when he still considered Peter a threat, just to make sure he knew to locate said threat.

"I see you've made yourself at home, darling," Peter smiled bemused.

On Stiles' lap was a children's book, a Polish fairy tale collection. Licho weren't just general folklore, they also featured in a couple fairy tales. It seemed Stiles was getting a head-start. Leaving Stiles to it for now, Peter headed to the kitchen to get them some water bottles, an energy drink for Stiles and some quick snacks. He knew how bad Stiles was at remembering to eat while researching so the best he could do was offer snackable foods for a research session.

"I wanted to apologize for earlier," Peter offered softly when he sat down next to Stiles. "I wouldn't have been as… casual, if I had known how much it meant to you."

"Stop being considerate," Stiles wiggled his nose with a frown. "It's weird."

"I promise I will never be considerate to any of the puppy pack," Peter assured with a smirk. "You-"

"Are the exception. You say that a lot," Stiles looked up with calculating eyes for a moment, before dropping his gaze back to the book. "And it's okay. I just… I didn't… I honestly didn't expect to react that strongly? I hadn't realized just how much I… missed the language. I didn't realize you could miss a language. But yeah, my mom was the only one who ever spoke it with me."

Peter watched the boy closely, but when Stiles didn't speak or move for a while, Peter instead went toward his library to get the books they'd need. By the time he returned, Stiles was shoving a handful of cashew nuts into his mouth, slowly licking his fingers as he pulled them out again. That mouth was going to be the end of him one day. He watched hypnotized how a pink tongue slowly licked off the last bits of salt from those long, elegant fingers.

"Can we…" Stiles trailed off for a moment, unsure, then looked up at Peter. "Speak Polish?"

Peter raised his eyebrows in surprise. "If you'd like, yes. And if you don't mind that I'm a little rusty and might have a horrible American accent."

Stiles quirked his lips and nodded. "Twój akcent nie był taki zły." [Your accent wasn't that bad.]

"Ach, dziękuję za komplement," Peter couldn't help the proud smile. "Więc..." [Why, thank you for the compliment. So…]

"Nie zaczyna się zdania od więc," Stiles interrupted cheekily. [Don't start the sentence with 'so'.]

"Więc…" Peter repeated with emphasis. "Co tam masz? Widzę że miałeś przewagę i już zacząłeś." [So, what do you have? I can see you already started.]

"Baśnie i legendy," Stiles motioned at the book in his lap. "W każdej legendzie jest ziarno prawdy. Ale jak na razie wszystkie kończą się... Niezbyt dobrze. I niezbyt przydatnie." [Fairy tales. There's always a bit of truth in fairy tales. But so far, they all end kind of… not in a helpful manner?]

Peter hummed in agreement. What little he remembered about the licho, it was a wait and hope game. They left again, on their own, when they had destroyed enough happiness. Which would not be the ideal solution to their problem. The last fire had hit a little too close to home, both literally and figuratively. They'd only just rebuilt the Hale House, Peter couldn't see it burn again.

"I dlatego mam książki, które nie są bajkami," Peter pointed at the stack of books he had brought from his library. "Faktyczne nadprzyrodzone źródła na temat różnych stworzeń." [That's why I own non-fairy tale books. Actual supernatural sources on the creatures.]

Peter loved the way Stiles' eyes lit up whenever he was presented with more knowledge. The honey-whiskey would lean more toward honey then, near golden with passion. Peter loved being the one to put that look on Stiles' face. Clearing his throat, he grabbed a book himself.

/break\

Stiles huffed with a small smile as he found himself buried beneath betas. Erica, Boyd and Isaac had broken into his bedroom, because of course they had. Erica and Boyd happily trapped him between the mated pair and Isaac comfortably stretched out over all three of their laps.

"How does the licho hunt go?" Stiles asked, carding his fingers through Isaac's hair.

"It sucks. These things suck," Erica glared, rubbing her cheek against his shoulder.

"Ye—eah," Stiles sighed, tilting his head back against the backrest of the couch.

"Would you care to elaborate on that?" Derek asked with a pointed look.

Right. Because they weren't here just for Stiles to recharge with some puppy-cuddles after a three days straight research binge in Peter's apartment. He'd never spent the night there, but that first day, they worked so long, it was deepest, darkest night by the time Stiles looked up and then Peter had just tossed him some sweat-pants and directed him toward the guest room. And Stiles genuinely couldn't tell if he was glad that Peter hadn't made that an innuendo or if he was disappointed that Peter hadn't even playfully invited him to the wolf's bedroom. Day two, he had gone home to cook lunch for his dad, shower and change into fresh clothes, just to return to Peter's.

"Są uosobieniem pecha." [They're the personification of bad luck.]

Stiles stopped abruptly when everyone stared at him blankly. His brows furrowed in confusion. He hadn't gotten to the complicated part yet, why were they all staring at him like that?

"Może jednak po angielsku, kochanie?" Peter prompted. [Maybe switch to English, darling.]

His eyes were crinkling in amusement and the look made Stiles' heart flutter (even more so than the petname did in Polish and oh boy did that make him feel overwhelmed and tingly) and oh. Right. He'd spent the past three days holed up at Peter's, exclusively speaking Polish with the wolf. He hadn't even thought about it, just launched into his explanation. A light blush dusted his cheeks.

"Sorry," Stiles ruffled his own hair and ducked his head. "They're the personification of bad luck. They seek out places that… places where people live happily and then they try to destroy that, by whispering bad ideas into people's ears, bringing sickness, setting fires."

"That checks out so far," Isaac sighed, looking tired.

Stiles knew, from texts, that the pack had been going on patrol in teams, constantly vigilant in an attempt to contain the threat. His eyes landed on the other couch, where Jackson, Lydia, Allison and Scott sat. The two other wolves also looked exhausted, heavily leaning into their mates, while Allison was sharpening her arrows in a nervous habit. They were all tired and on edge.

"How do we defeat it?" Jackson asked, voice muffled by Lydia's hair. "Please tell me you didn't just make yourself a cozy three days lovers retreat but actually have something useful."

Lydia elbowed him but didn't reprimand him, which told Stiles that Lydia partially agreed. His cheeks turned even darker, his eyes wandering over the rest of the pack, wondering if anyone else had picked up on whatever was going on between him and Peter, if even Jackson had done so.

"Most sources claim that you have to out-wait it. That it'll leave on its own once it destroyed enough happiness," Peter offered, glaring at Jackson. "So yes, we spent the past three days digging as deep as we could to find something that isn't 'just give up until it destroys you'."

"What Peter is trying to say," Stiles gave Peter a pointed look. "Is that yes, we found something. The only thing to defeat the personification of bad luck and misery is someone with a strong personality and strong believe in the good who can face the licho and hold onto their happiness."

A stretch of silence, then Scott startled. "Why… is everyone looking at me?"

"Scotty, you're the most optimistic guy any of us know," Stiles chuckled. "And you have a pretty strong grasp on your happiness, also known as Allison Argent. So."

"So what?" Scott stared at him wide-eyed. "Am I supposed to face the thing with, what, positive thinking? Thinking happy thoughts? That doesn't sound safe."

Stiles shrugged and played with Erica's hair. "We'll be your back-up, but essentially, yeah."

/break\

They'd taken care of the licho five days ago and still, Stiles kept finding his way to Peter's. At first to plunder the wolf's library for all other Polish books he had, piling them up next to the couch and curling together happily while reading through them. Occasionally, Peter would put a plate of food in front of him and distract him from reading for the duration of a meal, but at no point did Peter seem like he minded. It was like a silent agreement between them that when they were at Peter's, they were speaking Polish with each other. And with every day, Stiles felt more and more at home in Peter's apartment, with Peter. A warmth taking him over that he couldn't describe.

"Skąd masz do mnie klucz?" Peter asked, after five days. [How did you get a key to my place?]

Stiles tilted his head back to look up at Peter. He was laying with his head in Peter's lap, which in itself wasn't rare – he'd gotten very affectionate with all wolves so this wasn't at all related to any kind of feelings he had for Peter. Peter's fingers were gently running through his hair while Stiles was reading a book about Południca – not an immediate threat, but always exciting to read.

"Gwizdnąłem ci ze cztery miesiące temu jak kłóciłeś się z Derekiem i Scottem," Stiles replied, shrugging. [Stole yours, like, four months ago, while you were busy arguing with Derek and Scott.]

The huff that came from Peter was mostly fond and made Stiles feel warm again. He returned his attention to the book he was reading. How had Peter become a sanctuary to him in such a short time? A second home? A place where he could read and speak in the language of his mother, rediscover a part of himself that he had thought had died with his mother?

"Dziękuję," Stiles whispered, but then Peter frowned at him in confusion. "Że nie przeszkadza ci że tu jestem, że rozmawiasz ze mną po polsku, że... Że jesteś." [Thank you. For not minding that I'm here. For talking to me, in Polish. For… being here for me.]

Peter smiled at him. "Dla ciebie wszystko, moja miłości." [Anything for you, my love.]

Stiles' eyes widened and he gaped a little at just how hard that petname hit. It wasn't like in English, it was deeper, more meaningful, more intense. It was also what his mom used to call his dad.

Without thinking, he switched to English. "You can't just, you don't know how much that-"

"Naprawdę wiem," Peter assured him, slowly leaning in until their lips met. [I do know.]

Oh. Oh, knowing that Peter knew, understood what it meant, made Stiles lose all ability to think or talk. All he could do was lean into the kiss, drowning in it, drowning in Peter's love.

~*~ The End ~*~

Author's note: This one just FULLY goes out to my wonderful and amazing and beloved best friend, who has helped me find the perfect monster and has also done all of my translations for this fic and is generally enabling my ability to make Stiles more Polish (every time you read Stiles cooking something Polish, that dish has made it onto the page after I ran and asked "KIMMY GIMME A GOOD FOOD PLS")! I hope you enjoy this as reward for your hard work, Cupcake! Also, I hope everyone else reading this enjoyed it xD