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If Stiles had forgotten to tell the pack about being bitten by one of the Alpha’s it wasn’t totally his fault. He had just killed himself to save his dad and Mel, got rid of the Darach, barely got rid of the Alpha pack, and was dealing with a very confusing sexuality crisis (thanks Peter ). On top of all all that he was stuck explaining everything he knew about the supernatural to his dad, on his own , and admitting he was pretty bisexual. There was also, like, three weeks of homework he had to do.
So really, it wasn’t Stiles’ fault.
It wasn’t as though he needed to tell anyone, either. He had been the one to teach Scott enough control to get by even though he had no prior knowledge on Werewolves. So doing it himself? Easy. Sure, there was the little complication of Stiles’ eyes being bright orange with vertical slits, and alright, his fangs and claws were short and extremely sharp. Actually he was 98% percent sure he wasn’t a wolf, but he was also pretty sure he hadn’t been losing periods of time in which he thought he murdered people, so at least he was doing better than Scott had.
He did tell his dad right away, though. Their relationship had been too strained, they’d drifted too far apart. His dad meant the world to him, and he would do anything to make sure their relationship never took such a hard hit again. So he showed his dad his flashing eyes, his brows drawn together as his hands shook with fear. His dad just hugged him close, whispering reassurances into his boys hair in a way neither had done for such a long time.
And he helped. A lot. He encouraged Stiles to take time off school - after everything his son had been through it was easy to reason a bit of a break. He’d encouraged Stiles to practice, to learn this new aspect of himself and so Stiles did .
He honed his senses first, taking things slow and going one at a time. He got scent over with, going through his home and smelling whatever he could - trying to pick out specific scents from different points in his home. After that he moved onto hearing, forcing himself to block out everything before letting it all slowly filter back in, then learning how to control it. His ability to see in the dark was a surprise, though was incredibly useful.
Within a week he was in full control over his eyes, fangs and claws. He trained, everyday as much as he could. He sat in front of his mirror for hours flashing his eyes until he had his control over them down flat. After that he moved onto his fangs, at first disturbed by how he could feel his canines sharpening into small, needle sharp points. He had hated how it felt for his fingernails to elongate to sharp points, his entire spine shivering with discomfort every time he tried.
But he got it, made sure he was in full control of the basics before trying anything else.
After that was speed and strength. He found out he was fast . He could run a mile in just under three minutes, run a full ten before he started to feel any strain on his body - though his healing usually took care of any aches quickly enough. He also found out he wasn’t nearly as strong as the wolves - though he knew he was incredibly faster - and that while he could easily lift his couch, when he tried lifting Rosco he nearly pulled out his back.
The first time he beta shifted was not his fault. He hadn’t been focusing on his surroundings, instead trying to find his inner - er, not ‘wolf’ , since he was still sure he wasn’t one - something when his father came home. The slamming of the front door had shocked him so badly he had leapt into the air and when his father walked into the living room he’d been speechless. Instead he just pointed to the bathroom until Stiles made his way and well, he was so not a wolf.
His ears had gone pointed but hadn’t much elongated, and his eyebrows hadn’t disappeared, instead thickened at the arch, giving them a near raised appearance. His eyes seemed to grow larger and his mouth stretched wider, fitting more sharp, pointed teeth. He didn’t sprout sideburns though his nose had lengthened just a little, giving it more of a ‘snout’ appearance. His claws seemed longer while in his beta shift, though he was too busy focusing on what he had just been trying to find. The was a … consciousness inside of him, another creature sharing his brain and it felt agitated. It was pacing in circles, looking around critically and Stiles was pretty sure it wanted to run.
So he did.
As it turns out, the day his father startled him into his beta shift is also the day he achieves his full shift.
The creature inside him was restless, constantly pacing within the confines of his mind. Stiles could tell that it wanted to move, wanted to run . So he did. He entered the preserve through his back yard, shifting into his beta form the moment he was within the tree line. Everything was different like this, sharper. He could hear everything , smell nearly the same and he could see much further. It was amazing and he was confident as he ran, smoothly gliding through the underbrush with ease.
He let his senses take over, allowed his new conscious to pull to the forefront of his mind, allowing it to take control as he ran harder, faster. His feet slapped harshly at the floor above him, arms swinging at his side. He lept over a branch and midair felt a tightening in his chest that spread over his whole body uncomfortably before he landed back on the forest floor, front paws easing his descent. He stared with wide eyes at his … paw, stumbling over a branch and tumbling over himself, his tail curling close when he finally came to a stop.
He let out a bark, yipping loudly as he circled himself, staring at his orange fur in rapt fascination. He took a few more steps, unsteady in his new body. He was more the animal now, his human conscious second hand in this form. He was instinct, his scenes the strongest they’d yet been. When he was about to walk without stumbling he began to jog, slowly picking up pace until he was racing through the forest, far faster than animal his size should be able to. He ducked through small cracks in the foliage, twisted under branches.
He ran home, following his own scent rail through the trees. It hardly took him anytime before he was weaseling under his back gate, running through his yard and butting the door with his head. He whined high in his throat, scratching against the door until his dad came to open it. He trotted it, curling around his father's legs and purring loudly as he rubbed his scent into the man.
“Stiles?” He dad asked, staring down at the animal with wide eyes, “You’re a fox .”
Stiles yipped again, bright and happy before running up the stairs to his dad's room and jumping onto the bed, staring at himself in the mirror above his father's dresser. He stared at himself, twitching his nose and watching as his reflection did the same - since well it was a reflection. His were weren’t shining orange like they did in his beta shift but were a duller shade of the same colour. His fur was a rusty orange, a patch of white surrounding his noise and running down his chest and belly, on his paws like boots. He lifted his tail - which was an incredibly strange experience - and waved it.
It wasn’t nearly as puffy as he thought it should be - he hadn’t seen many foxes, though - but it didn’t bother Stiles. It appeared that even in his fox form he was lean, long lines. He tried to shift back, tried to picture his body as it were. It wasn’t working though and he was whining high in his throat, turning in circles around the bed. He sought out his dad’s pillow, burying his nose in the fabric and letting the scent of his father calm him. He shifted fluidly, his fur melting back into skin.
He sat up, completely naked as he stared at himself in the mirror, his eyes still glowing softly. He let out a high laugh, before shouting, “Dad I’m a fox!”
He went to school the next day for the first time in two weeks, confident in his ability to control himself. He had spent all night shifting back and forth, melting into his full form then back into his beta, making sure he could still single out particular features. He could pop just his claws with the same amount of ease as he could shift into a fox.
It was awesome.
School was not awesome. He was now incredibly attuned to his senses, had no problem dulling them if need be. The problem with this was he had to actively focus to dull them and he didn’t think to until after he stepped out of his jeep. The literal wall of teenage hormones had him stumbling a step back, gagging on the smell. He had never once wanted to smell so much- and the amount of body odor was absolutely disgusting.
Along with the overwhelming smell of fucking teenage hormones and jesus so much semen , everything was too loud. He could hear lockers slamming shut, what felt like thousands of conversations being yelled directly into his ear. It was incredibly overwhelming and he had to close his eyes and breath through the sudden onslaught to his senses. Thankfully it didn’t take him long to push it all down and he he hadn’t let anything slip - no popped claws or flashing eyes. So with another cleansing breath he stepped forward, making his way into the school.
His first period was … disheartening. It wasn’t as though he didn’t realize that he didn’t have near as many pack bonds as he should, that there was nothing connecting him to any of the other wolves he knew. It was just, harder, to be faced with it head on. He had thought that maybe, maybe he would feel something when he finally saw his friends, hell even when he finally saw Scott . But he didn’t feel anything.
And he knows what the bond should feel like. There is a bright tether in his chest that reminds him of his dad’s hugs, the smell of gun oil and his aftershave. It feels safe and warm and he knows it leads to his dad, one of the two pack bonds he does have. The pack bond he has with his father is strong, but he has another bond, smaller and much weaker. It feels like attraction, sarcasm and battles of wit. It feels like v necks and goatees and Stiles figures he should be more surprised than he is that he has a fledgling bond with Peter Hale.
It makes a sort of sense, really. Peter has been the only one to contact Stiles during his time away, and the man would only know he was missing by the two weekly pack meetings he skipped these last two Saturday’s. It’s disheartening that Peter noticed yet the people he spends entire days in school with have said nothing to him.
So he has two pack bonds and he decides while walking to his second period class that he is absolutely not going to think about it. He still doesn't think about it when he sits next to Danny at their lunch table. They’re still the only two there and he’s the first person to ask Stiles if he’s been all right. All he can do is smile and nod tightly, bumping shoulders with the other boy - an instinct he is sure is all his fox - and try not to start crying.
Danny’s the only one to ask him that all day.
He realizes while walking towards the parking lot that maybe his friends aren’t half as loyal to him as he’s always been to him, or that they just expect him to pick up their slack like he’s always done before. It hurts, seeing how little they all apparently care. It’s that not one of them noticed anything was different, since Stiles is near certain his scent has changed. He can smell the scent of wolf clear on the others, the death that hangs off Lydia.
He just, he really just wants to run. He feels too tight, wound up and like he needs release , to get all the energy bouncing around inside him to go away. He can hardly think of anything else, his fox pacing impatiently in his head as he walks, and it’s probably why he almost misses Peter leaning against a small, shiny black sports car.
His hair has grown out past the carefully cut length he usually keeps it and his facial hair has grown out into a full beard. He looks good, his Henley gripping his biceps tight where his arms are crossed over his chest, one leg up on the jeep, the jeans his is wearing pulling tight around his thigh. He looks, well he looks hot and Stiles can literally scent his own arousal as it seeps out of him.
“Peter?” Stiles asked as he finally got to the older wolf.
“I am here to submit to you, as my Alpha. I’m sure you can already feel the bond forming.” He said, smirk firmly in place as he wastes no time getting it all out there.
And Stiles does appreciate the man's honesty, but, “Alpha?”
“Yes, Stiles. An Alpha fox, a very lovely fox at that,” Peter explained, taking a long look at the boy in front of him. It makes Stiles want to squirm in his own skin, but Peter doesn't smell anything other than interested , and it’s a heady feeling to know that.
Peter has always smelt good, expensive cologne, but now that Stiles can smell Peter it’s all he wants. Hell, his fox is rolling around in his mind, submitting it’s stomach and whining high in need. It all but pushes Stiles forward until he’s tucked against Peter’s chest, his mouth breathing heavy against the man's bared throat. The sign of submission is enough to drag a groan out of Stiles as he closes his jaw over the tendon there, growling low in his throat against Peter’s skin.
Peter just rumbles back, taking a shuddering breath when Stiles licks up his skin, pulling at the man's earlobe with his teeth before he realizes what he’s doing and leans back. He drags in another breath, Peter smelling so much better when it’s layered with his own scent. He rubs his hands up Peter’s arms, making sure the man will continue to smell like him.
“I like how you smell,” Stiles said on a growl, his voice too deep to be his own.
“Likewise, little fox,” Peter’s voice is beyond fond, and he ducks forward to get at Stiles’ own neck, pinkening the skin with the coarse hair of his beard as he leaves behind his scent. Stiles goes stiff when the sounds of his - well now ex - pack filter across the lot and Peter just tugs him closer, looking over the boys shoulder with narrowed eyes.
“Did they not notice?” He asks, voice soft as he smooths a hand down the teens back and settles atop the swell of the boys ass. Stiles for his part just shakes his head and steps a little closer. His head feels heavy, wrapped up in the scent of his beta and his fox is rolling around wildly, somehow more energetic than it previously was.
“Well, how about we forget about the silly children and go for a run?” Peter suggests, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his Alpha’s forehead, not even bothered that they’re nearly the same height.
Stiles perks up at that, grinning up at the older wolf widely and he lets his eyes flash bright, laughing when Peter’s follow.
Peter’s wolf is beautiful . He stand at least four feet tall, shiny and midnight black, grey streaking his face and belly. Stiles can stand straight up under him, his back just brushing Peter’s underside. Peter is graceful as he moves, all predator as he stalks through the forest, footsteps not making a sound. His eyes are a brilliant blue, looking brighter while framed by his black fur.
Running with Peter is - well it’s different than anything Stiles has ever done. It’s much better than when he ran alone, having his beta chasing behind him and playfully biting at his heels. Stiles is far faster, his inferior size allowing him to move quicker throughout the bush than Peter can. He runs circles around the man, letting him get close before pushing forward with a burst of speed, yipping his enjoyment as he runs away.
It’s exhilarating to feel so free, to let his animal out and let it run , not having to care about anything more than his instincts. The floor pounding under his paws, the trees as he races past them, Peter hot on his trail. He barks loud and free, Peter’s own echoing his. A scent catches his nose and he slows down to find a trail only to have Peter barrel into him, wrestling him to the ground. Peter growls playfully, nipping at Stiles’ throat as they continue to roll around the dirt.
Peter pins him to the floor, covering the entirety of Stiles’ small body with his own, firm and warm against him. Peter snuffles at Stiles’ neck, licking the fox's snout and around his ears, cleaning and grooming his mate. Stiles just purrs contentedly, letting Peter do as he saw fit and relishing in the feedback loop of their bond, love and safety and home .
Finally Stiles yips, letting out high, loud barks and wiggling out from under the wolf. Peter just huffs in his face and Stiles darts away, letting the older wolf chase after him on their way home. He’s sitting on his back step by the time the wolf catches up and he noses the still-open door aside, paddling up to his room, the wolf half looming over him as he goes.
He watches Peter shift back to human first, hearing the bones and joints creak as they rearrange themselves into the man he knows. He goes after, fluidly lifting onto two feet, unabashed in his nudity. He crawls into his bed, lifting the cover for Peter when the man just stands there, looking over with a brow drawn. He cuddles close, letting the wolf's heat sink into his skin, jealous he didn’t instantly become a personal heater with all his other powers.
“Is this okay?” Stiles asks from where his face is buried in Peter’s neck, arms wrapped around the man's middle.
Peter has his arms around Stiles as well and he rolls onto his back, pulling Stiles and settling the boy over his own body, adjusting the blanket around them, “This is perfectly alright.”
“Cool,” Stiles answers, letting his eyes drift shut as the scent of home and mate and den wash over him, calming his mind further, “I think I might really like you.”
“I’m glad,” Peter says, tightening his arms around his boy, “I rather like you myself.”
“I’m glad,” Stiles echoes, breathing deep as he drifts into sleep.