Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ur rlly being selfish

Y cant u let it go/?

The pack needs u

Shit like the latest string of messages was why Stiles had never actually blocked his former best friend. It just really tickled his funny bone and he couldn't help the snort of laughter that escaped. Allison arched a brow at him over her cup of hot chocolate and he shrugged in response.

"Apparently I'm 'needed' back home."

Her own snort was one of disgust. Allison had yet to find the hilarious side of the hell they'd been through.

"Oh, I'll bet you are. You tell him--"

"Alley-cat. My favorite stray, arrow to my heart. You know leaving him on read is one of the truest joys in my life."

"Your pettiest one, you mean."

"Same thing."

Her dimples were still nauseating in how adorable they made her. Even the long, jagged scar curving down the left side of her face couldn't take that away. "I thought your truest joy was posting suggestive selfies of us and making sure to tag all the puppies?"

"Pfft. He hardly even froths at the mouth over those anymore. No, he's either finally gotten over your kick-ass self--" For a Disney Princess she had a truly epic eye roll at her disposal. "Or he's realized we are naught but platonic soulmates."

"I think I liked it better when he thought we were fucking."

"I love you, and would happily die or kill for you. But I can honestly say I'd rather be tortured by your crazy grandpa again than get anywhere near your lady bits."

"You say the sweetest things." While she cooed and batted her lashes, Stiles was forced to evade several kicks aimed at his vulnerable legs. The way she was a vicious bitch was what he adored most about her.

"Hey, any luck with Frederick?"

"Yes and no. More no than yes."

"Can't find what we need, or is the price too high?"

"He started with a demand for a lock of your hair and a vial of blood--"

"Fuck no. Not happening, either one--"

"As soon as I said 'no', he graciously offered to settle for a custom charm laid over his shop."

"... I find that more suspicious than if he'd countered with just wanting the blood." She saluted him with her cup with one hand while she shot him a finger gun with the other. "We have talked about the finger guns. They're only cool if you do two at once. Holster that lone weapon because it's-- Ally! I mean it!" Another eye roll, but at least she stopped acting like such a geek. "Thank you. This is serious time. Do you see my serious face? This is business time Stiles sitting in your presence and I need you to respect that."

"I need you to know that I'm judging you right now. You're right about Frederick - there's something rotten in Denmark - but that pales in comparison to the judgement I'm leveling your way."

"Whatever. So he's shady as fuck, but if he can get us what we need--"

"Not sure the potential betrayal is worth it, Sti. I think we need to go a different route. I think we should look at getting in touch with the Fanged Maven." He wasn't exactly sure what his face was doing, but it seemed to be expressing his thoughts on that idea perfectly. Allison rolled her eyes and kicked at his ankle again, not amused with his distaste. "Come on. There's no reason--"

He deals in favors, Alley-cat. Not a business model I'm a fan of. Not unless I'm the one being owed, at least. And like fuck am I gonna owe anything to some pretentious prick who calls himself the Fanged Maven. Who even does that?"

"Stiles..." Her exasperation wasn't nearly enough to make him budge. She could break out the puppy dog eyes for all he cared. What kind of douche chose a title like that? One Stiles was not going to owe a single damn thing to, that's what. Allison and her 'thoughts' could take a hike. "Frederick is going to screw us over."

"He'll try. We can take him though."

Allison's mouth opened to argue her point further, but he saw when she swallowed the words she had planned. Her eyes went sharp, subtly tracking someone behind him. The rest of her face went absolutely gooey, and she giggled as she leaned in. It was enough to make them look like a couple, and he played into that immediately, leaning toward her as well. "You say the sweetest things," she cooed again, one hand reaching for his forearm. She gave it a caress, then let her hand just rest there... except for her ring finger, which was tapping out a little code. Their target was here - that meant they could stop bullshitting and get the job done. Alpha Thompson was not known for his patience, and they had werewolves to save.

"Only for you, babe." he gave her a saucy wink, eliciting another giggle. Most of his attention was on her finger, which let him know that their target was wearing a denim jacket and cowboy boots, because of course they were. Every Hunter in the world liked to think of themselves as gunslingers seeking justice in the Wild Wild West. Assholes. "Hey, you want another cup, or should we get outta here?"

"Whatever you think is best." Another cute little giggle that probably would have fooled an awful lot of people. Most wouldn't realize that Allison at her sweetest was also Allison at her most dangerous. At least she'd mostly left crazy-town well behind her. "But maybe if we did leave we could go somewhere...." she finger-walked up his arm, then slid her hand down his chest. "Private."

"I am definitely up for that idea." If she hadn't been playing the role, she would have rolled her eyes and kicked him. As it was, she just giggled again and shoved her cup toward him. "Go take care of that while I fix my face?"

"Doesn't need any fixing, but sure. Meet you in a sec." She sashayed away, and he did his best to look enamored as he watched her go. She did have a cute little butt, so that helped. He just would rather be boiled in oil than tap it. While Allison went to get the kit she'd stashed away earlier, Stiles made his way to the little island by the register where he could leave their cups. Denim jacket guy - Earl Heath, a sadistic son of a bitch whose work Stiles had been forced to patch up a few times the last month - didn't seem to even notice him as he loitered. That was good. Obliviousness in other people was always awesome. Fine-tuned to pick out Allison's essence wherever he was, he knew the moment she returned. Luckily, it was just as Earl was being handed his to-go cup. Score! He wouldn't have to implant any sneaky suggestions. It didn't work as often as it did, so as a strategy it wasn't great. Now he just hoped Earl would lead them right to the Hunter's hideout, so they could grab the werewolves and get out of dodge quick.

And maybe maim some people, blow something up. Stiles was keeping his options open.

He linked hands with her as they ambled out of the store, Earl in their sights but not too close. If the guy had a car, Stiles would tag it with a hint of magic and they'd follow along, but he was hoping that wouldn't happen. Cars could be memorable, and he really didn't want to be linked to the crime scene they were aiming to crash. It was his lucky day too, because Earl seemed perfectly happy to just amble along, heading in the direction that they were pretty sure the Hunters were holed up. A quick pattern traced with his finger on the back of Allison's hand had them both cloaked in his magic, all but invisible to the naked eye. A were or other creature would be able to smell them - he hadn't been able to fine-tune adding that aspect to the spell yet - but a human? A human would have to step on them to know they were there.

And Earl, the fuck, was leading them right where he needed to go. The sun was shining, he had his best girl to guard his back, and they were off to maybe kill some assholes. It was a good, good day.

Getting into the run-down warehouse had been easy, and when he saw the cameras there to record everyone who came in and out he was able to alter the spell subtly to make sure they didn't leave any impressions there. His usual cloaking spell wasn't always foolproof when it came to recordings. In exchange, however, he lost some of the ability to cloak other signs of their presence. It was a trade Stiles was willing to live with, because he really, really didn't want to leave any trace of them behind.

Earl got a lot of shit for being gone so long, but he and Allison crept around that little meet-and-greet, going deeper into the lair. The werewolves would be further in, maybe even underground. Stiles squeezed Allison's hand, and she immediately stopped. While she kept an eye out, he opened himself up fully to try and sense where the captives might be. There was no hint of 'other' around him, only humans, so he kept stretching the sense until he finally found what he was looking for. He gave Allison's hand a quick tug, and she followed him without hesitation the same way she'd been doing for years now. He also heard the soft rustling of her kit as she dug out her weapon of choice, and it was hard not to roll his eyes.

Bows were a Hunter's weapon, but she didn't give a fuck that she sometimes scared the people they went to help when she carried it. He just hoped the werewolves they were rescuing didn't attack her. Again. They really, really needed to find her a different weapon.

Stiles had found the werewolves, and they were a glowing beacon in his mind. Unfortunately, his mind couldn't get a top-down shot of the whole warehouse, and the Hunters had clearly been building. They had a few near-misses and had to backtrack twice, but eventually they got to the door that he knew was the right one. There was some kind of digital lock on it, but Stiles didn't need to worry. Allison had learned quite a few tricks from Danny; he just needed to make sure nobody tried to kill them while she was working. It was nice that they were still undetected, Stiles thought as she worked, but he did kind of miss the days when they would have just blown the lock up and dealt with the shit show that followed. Being a mature adult was hard.

At the soft 'click' of the door opening, Stiles seamlessly swapped places with her. Arrow dancing over her fingertips, she stood ready to string it and take out anyone who tried to interrupt. Stiles was best as a first contact; sending her in first usually got messy. It was better if she stayed where she could fuck people up if they tried to interfere with Stiles’ plan.

The Hunters they were dealing with weren't a Family, but they had ties to several. After much discussion and some whining on his part, they'd agreed to not simply raze their hideout to the ground. That would draw a lot of attention their way, and they were trying to stay on the down low. Killing every Hunter in the warehouse would probably also draw a good bit of wrath upon their heads, so they needed to be measured in their response. Mostly because Allison was a big ol' spoilsport.

He dropped the illusion-based spell as soon as entered the room. Several heads whipped his way... but even more stayed where they were, hanging limply down on necks that wouldn't support them anymore. All sixteen wolves were strung up on chain link fences - because Hunters were just Like That - except for one. The man dangling from a meat hook in the center of the room was absolutely fucking gorgeous, a fact that Stiles hated. He was not going to - refused to - ogle the man's muscles or the sheen on them. Objectifying victims of kidnap and torture was wrong. As if sensing the direction of his thoughts, that dark head of hair lifted, and then Stiles was pierced by the bluest fucking eyes he'd ever seen outside of a shift. They held him entranced as lush lips curved into a wicked smile framed by a goatee that was going a little scraggly.

"Hello there, sweetheart." Who the hell purred words like that? And who the fuck did it while strung up like a cow about to be butchered?! "What's a pretty boy like you doing in a place like this?"

He was not going to blush. Flirty wolves were a dime a dozen, even if he did like the mischief in this one's eyes.

"I heard this was a great place for a visit if you're single and ready to mingle." His sass earned a low chuckle as he cautiously went further into the room. Every once in a while they came across Hunters that liked to use traps. This didn't seem like one of those times, but it was better to be safe than sorry. "Though it looks like you all started the party without me."

"You haven't missed much. Our hosts are sadly lacking when it comes to manners and accommodations. No one has even apologized for the stains on my pants." it was Stiles' turn to laugh, and the man's smile turned predatory. Before he or the butterflies swirling in his stomach heard the thought behind it, he turned away to take in the damage. Now that they'd heard him, more heads were lifted, scrutinizing him. The looks were mixed; some looked hopeful, others doubtful, and some of them just... stared, eyes dead. About what he'd expected, really. Earl and his buddies really liked to go in on the torture, from what they'd been able to discover. Most of the wolves didn't have any visible injuries, but the majority of them also looked like they hadn't had a good meal since being taken from their homes.

Stiles only recognized seven of them from the pictures Alpha Thompson had shown them. Were the fuck had the Hunters gotten everyone else? There were way too many to get out quietly, and part of him cheered when he realized that he was definitely going to get to cause some damage on the way out. "Alright. Here's what we're gonna do. I'm going to let you all down and give you a breather from the electricity they've probably got running through you all. While you do that, me'n Allison - my partner - are gonna do a sweep to clear a path. When this turns green," he twitched his fingers and a ball of red-tinted life sprung to life, dancing in the air. Suddenly a lot more werewolves looked like they believed they would make it out. "You all are gonna follow it out, okay? We should be able to hold 'em all off, so don't worry about us. Just stay alert for any stragglers. Questions? Concerns? Comments?"

He didn't wait for anyone else to speak before he made his way to the generator supplying what was probably a hell of a shock factor to the metal fence. It didn't appear to be booby-trapped, so he felt safe enough to simply switch it off without any fanfare. Immediately the wolves connected to it sagged in relief, and he could see a few even working to free themselves before he got there. "I do have a concern," drawled the wolf in the center of the room, to Stiles' absolute expectation.

"And that is? Easy - I'm here to help, I swear." he added to the werewolf that had tensed at his approach. As much as he would have loved to see the expression on the werewolf talking to him, he kept his focus where it needed to be. Didn't mean he wasn't listening closely for the response though. He was sometimes capable of multitasking.

"Who dresses you?" Wow, did that little remark undercut the little swell of attraction he'd been feeling.

"Dude. I'm a big boy now - I dress myself." It was easy to catch the werewolf he'd freed and lower him to the ground - guy was about thirty pounds lighter than he should have been. "Rest. My friend has some food and water in her bag that I'll bring in for you in a sec." Stiles waited for a moment of eye contact, then a nod of acknowledgment before he moved on to the next still-hanging wolf. About half of them had freed themselves or were in the process of being freed by another wolf - he loved helping people that were willing to help themselves.

"Clearly you need more help than you're getting. Plaid? Really sweetheart?" The man laughed when Stiles shot him a dirty look, then went right on talking. "And everything you have on is criminally oversized. Does nothing for you. You would look delicious in a pair of jeans that actually fit." He felt his ears start to burn, and heard the ghost of Allison's laughter. She'd been telling him almost the same thing for years, but she had never made it sound so suggestive.

"Oh my God. This is not the time, Flirty Wolf. Shit, sorry!" His arms tightened around the woman who'd practically fallen against him before he'd expected it, almost taking them both to the ground. When he set her on her feet she immediately whimpered and took the pressure off her left leg, which... fuck. Hopefully she would heal a little while she waited, or one of the other wolves would help her. "There we go. Easy does it." She squeezed his hand as he went to pull away, so he made sure to give her a reassuring smile. "We'll be out of here soon, alright? Me and Allison will make sure of it."

There was no response from his new flirty friend. Stiles ignored the slight disappointment and carried on with his task. Once all the wolves on the fence had been let down and were gathering into a giant huddle on the floor, he turned back to the center of the room... and nearly ran in to the werewolf he'd been about to go save. As he flailed backwards to avoid doing that, large, hot hands fitted themselves to his hips and kept him upright. The man was so, so close, and so very much his type and no. Bad Stiles. No thinking sexy thoughts about someone he was rescuing! Even if he did want to pet the smattering of chest hair on the werewolf, even if he wanted to skim his fingers over every bit of muscle on display, he was not going to do it or even think about it! That was creepy and unprofessional.

"You," the man purred, sending another round of butterflies to flutter through him, chasing the sparks that resulted when the man squeezed his hips. "Must be Stiles. I've heard so much about you."

"Um." he squeaked, too much of his blood rushing to an area that really didn't need it just then. He needed to think, not lust! "I'm sure it was all lies."

"Oh, I very much doubt that." He briefly mourned the loss of one large hand, only to shiver when the man reached up to trail his fingers over the swirling lines of the tattoos on Stiles' right arm. There was a pattern there, even if most couldn't see it, that strengthened him and his magic. This werewolf, damn him and his blue, blue eyes, was tracing it unfailingly. "Though now I wonder if they gave you far too little credit. No one ever told me how lovely you are." White teeth flashed in a smile that was almost threatening and ten times hotter because of it. "Peter Hale, by the way. Delighted to meet you, sweetheart."

Hale. Of course. With the hotness and the charm and the very vocal eyebrows - of course the guy was a Hale. "Uh. Nice to meet you too? Aren't you pretty far from home?" Last he'd heard the remaining Hale wolves had hunkered down in the Boston area. It was hard, sometimes, not to resent them for that. If they hadn't abandoned Beacon Hills after that awful fire, maybe everything could have been different. Better.

"I live in town, actually." Curiouser and curiouser. Hales were all about pack, and this one lived so far away? All on his own? Why would he--

"Stiles!" Allison's furious hiss broke through his intense focus on the man in front of him. He jerked back, only to have the wolf catch him again, this time with one strong arm wrapped around his waist. That brought him even closer, and when he realized that his hands had landed on the most wonderful set of pecks he'd ever seen, Stiles quickly yanked them away with a yelp and threw them up into the air. Blushing furiously and wishing he wasn't such an absolute nerd, he looked over at his partner and flinched.

"Not what it looks like?" he offered lamely.

Allison didn't deign to answer him, just shot him a Look. Feeling very judged, he tried to squirm away from Peter only to be thwarted by the man's strength. While Allison quickly and quietly passed out the food and water they'd bought - not a lot, just enough to share and gather a little strength - Stiles glared up at the wolf who'd trapped him. "Excuse you, but I am trying to run a rescue here."

"Mmm. Very true." Instead of letting him go, Peter reeled him closer. "As one of your rescuees, I'm just seeking a little... comfort."

"Oh my God. You are so creepy." That would have played better if he hadn't sounded so damn breathless. "Get off me, Creeper Wolf, and go drink some water."

"If I must. Thanks for providing, Stiles."

Shit. Fuck. He was in so much trouble, he realized hysterically as Peter sauntered away. Mayday, mayday, man overboard. Fuck. He was so going to hell, because the way the muscles of Peter's back bunched and moved under his skin was one of the sexiest things he’d seen. Stiles was totally ogling him, and it was so wrong. Fuck.

"Stiles? Stiles!" A swat to his arm pulled his eyes away from where Peter was drinking from a bottle of water. Sinfully, he might add, a few stray trickles running down the most perfectly bitable neck-- "Snap out of it Stilinski!"

"Right! Sorry. Right. Okay." Firmly recentering his focus, he blocked Peter out as best he could. They had shit to do, and then he could panic over wanting to climb one of the people he was rescuing like a tree. "The plan. We are commencing the plan." Unfortunately, the object of his dismaying lust wouldn't let himself be forgotten.

"Change in plan. I'm going with you." He met Stiles' eyes briefly, then looked at Allison. The sheer contempt and fury on his face made her shrink back, and Stiles immediately stepped a little in front of her. Peter's eyes flared a preternatural blue as he growled. "Your partner," he bit out, "can't be trusted to get us out. She's an Argent." That had the attention of all the wolves, who looked up with a new wash of fear and uncertainty on their faces. Before he could say anything, Allison stepped around him, chin held high and expression fierce.

"I'm a Stilinski," she countered. "The Argents are monsters." Stiles flinched at the all-encompassing description, because Chris wasn't so bad. Sometimes. When he wasn't around the rest of his family the dude was pretty chill. "Believe me or not," she added over the murmurs from the rest. "I don't really care. Stiles and I will get you out regardless. Stiles?"

Without another word, she left the room again, and shit like this was why he didn't usually let anyone they were rescuing from Hunters see her until after they were safe. "Guys. She's on the up-and-up, I swear. She's been my partner in crime for years now, doesn't even speak to her family." Except Chris. Sometimes. Stiles decided that, for the sake of argument, it didn't count. "The plan hasn't changed," he held up a finger when Peter tried to object, silencing him with a look. "We're gonna go kick some ass. Follow the light when it turns green."

He didn't have time to convince them, not really. They were running on a clock, and their time to get out without sending the whole base into a tizzy was swiftly running out. After another look at each of them that he hoped was reassuring, he followed Allison. He wasn't surprised when, despite his clear direction, Peter followed him.

"Once an Argent, always an Argent," he whispered in Stiles' ear. "I don't trust her with our safety, or yours."

"Shut up, Creeper Wolf. We're going for stealth mode here."

Peter remained a presence, hot at his back and far too close, as they made their way through the warehouse. Anyone they came across was swiftly taken out by Allison's arrows or his magic, and he could - thank fuck - feel that the remaining wolves were following his little light after them as they cleared the way. There still had been no general alarm, no raised voices or yelling feet. It was all pretty-- Peter shoved him, pushing him out of the way of a baton sparking with electricity. The wolf took a glancing blow from it instead, body arching from the pain of it, muscles of his neck working to keep any sound from escaping. The Hunter never got in another hit though, because Peter recovered quick. He dodged the baton and danced in close, ripping the Hunter's throat out with ease. Blood on his hands, a spray of it on his bared, heaving chest, he still looked really, really fucking hot.

"I'm going to hell," he whispered, eyes fixed on Peter. The werewolf looked over, eyes glowing, and smirked.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'll be there to keep you company."

Chapter Text

"We are never working with that man again," Allison told him through a smile as they both waved Alpha Thompson off. He didn't blame her - the man had been a pain in the ass the whole way through the process. Stiles especially didn't appreciate the previous and unsuccessful rescue attempts that had been hidden from them. It wasn't good business, and if they weren't such an awesome, kickass team, they could have walked into something beyond their capabilities because of it.

"Nope. Not unless it's another rescue. Even then, we're asking a fuck-ton more questions."

"Mmm. And we're asking for money."

"You listen here, Alley-cat--"

"No. He lied and put us and his Betas in danger. Next time, he pays us. Through the nose."

"... expenses only."

"We'll talk about it later." Her gaze slanted to Peter, who was standing close enough that he was a solid line of heat down Stiles' back. After what was a pretty intense staring contest - at least on her side - she arched a brow. "Is now really the time to be thinking about how to get in his pants?" For a horrible second he wasn't sure who she was talking to. He knew that his face turned beet red pretty damn quickly, because hey! True, but still. Even worse, he could feel that embarrassed flush flow over his ears and wash over the back of his neck. Peter was going to notice that for sure. Fuck, he was probably smelling all lusty too. He was the worst, the absolute worst. He was going to have to crawl into a garbage can and ask Allison to put him out on the curb.

Arms wrapped around his waist, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to flee or sink back against the solid, comfortable chest pressed against him. "He's just so pretty," Peter purred in his ear. That did not help the blushing situation, like, at all. Mixed in with the embarrassed pleasure, however, was a hint of doubt and a tiny bit of indignation at the obvious lie. Nobody had ever called him pretty - he'd been a scrawny, gangly teen and now that he was an adult things hadn't improved much. On a good day he was passable, but he certainly wasn't pretty. Peter was fucking with him or something, probably. Rude, but that was attached to very nice muscles that Stiles decided to enjoy while he could. "And you smell like power, sweetheart. Like power and danger and--" the werewolf stopped suddenly, leaving him wondering what would have come after that second 'and'. "I'm not just trying to get into your pants. Wolf's honor." At Allison's snort of disbelief, he felt more than heard Peter's rumble of displeasure. "Better than the word of an Argent. Burn anyone alive lately, Huntress?"

Guy was hot like the sun, but nobody got away with digging at that particular wound. His Alley-cat had worked way too hard to separate herself from her family's bullshit to deserve it.

"That's my platonic soulmate you're insulting." he bit out as he tried to step out of those fantastically muscled arms. It was more of a struggle than he would have liked, but once Peter seemed to realize the intent was serious, not playful, he was quickly let go. Whirling around, he held out one finger, fighting the urge to put it right in front of that smug face. "And she also just helped save your sorry ass. I get it - there's history between the Hales and the Argents. Most of her family fucking sucks, sure. Allison? She's the fucking best and she had my back when nobody else did. Me and her? We're a package deal, have been since we crawled out of that fucking nightmare town together. So either learn to live with that or you can fuck off."

He flipped Peter the finger, happy to note that the smugness had vanished behind a bland mask. With his other hand, he tangled his fingers in Allison's and held on tight. Knowing what he meant to do, she stepped a little closer, dimples flashing, and echoed his crude gesture with her other hand. Just as he activated one of the runes inked onto his skin, he saw Peter's mouth open. There was a part of him that wanted to know what would come out... but it was too late, and Allison was way more important than a hot werewolf that he'd like to lick all over and then maybe cuddle with for a little while. Sisters before misters, or whatever he fuck.

The world dissolved into a smudged blur, and by the time he next blinked, they were elsewhere. Not far - just over three blocks, because teleportation was stupid and drained him faster than anything but mind-fuckery. The important part was that it was just far enough that there would be no scent-trail for anyone to follow, no echoes left in the world to give anyone any idea which direction they'd gone in. Peter wouldn't be able to find them, and neither would any of the hunters they'd left behind. They were also far enough away that he felt comfortable letting the last of his cloaking spells go, their influence slowly fading so nobody in the area would get the impression that they had appeared out of nowhere. His magic had been given a nice workout, and now he really, really needed a nap.

"Carry me," he demanded, swaying hard against his best friend. "I'm tired." She laughed, ruffled his hair and shifted her bow and quiver into his arms. He happily slung them on his back before jumping up onto hers, her arms under his knees as he glommed on. The weapons had been etched with permanent 'notice-me-not' sigils, so the pair of them would be an odd sight but nobody would be calling the police. Certain that Allison would get them home safe, he let himself relax and buried his face into the side of her neck. "Thanks Alley-cat. Owe you a hot cocoa."

"You owe me a piggyback," she teased while giving him a gentle bounce. "Go to sleep, Stiles."

"Mm. If-" Interrupted by a yawn, he went boneless as he fought to get this final thought out. "If you really wanna visit the Fanged Maven we can. Alpha Thompson was my idea, and it was fucking annoying. Your turn to-" Another yawn, and he sank a little bit deeper into the comfortable dark behind his eyelids. "Your turn to make the call."

"I'm holding you to that, Sti. Sleep."

"M'kay."

If he dreamed about a neck he'd love to bite and gorgeous, glowing blue eyes, that was nobody's business but his own.

Ornate filigree decorated one wall of the stupidly large elevator. Stiles wondered what the hell the point of it was halfway through the the stupidly long ride. At least it gave him something to focus on since he was very pointedly not talking to Allison. She was an evil, evil woman for forcing him to do this. She knew that magic drunk, exhausted Stiles had no business making decisions! He'd clearly not been in his right mind, and she was ruthlessly taking advantage of the blanket permission he'd given her.

She also was unfairly unfazed by his cold shoulder. Leaning against the railing with her arms crossed over her chest, she hadn't glanced over at him in ages. She was annoyingly put together, considering how fucking early it was. Allison had shown up at his door at a disgusting hour and dragged him along without even a quick chat about their options. At least she'd brought him a very large cup of his very favorite sugary concoction from the coffee shop they both preferred. He was still sipping his, being as sulky as he could be about it. She was ignoring that as thoroughly as everything else, her own small iced coffee long gone.

"Of course he lives near the top of the fucking building," he finally muttered near the end of their journey. "Pretentious prick."

"Can you maybe try to be civil?"

"I could, but the coffee bribe only got me here. I'd need a hell of a lot more to--"

"Don't try that with me, Sti. You said--"

"I was half asleep!" Allison leveled a Look his way, but he refused to be cowed. "And... and your back was comfy, so I was feeling grateful. That's all. I didn't actually mean--"

Stiles. You meant it. You don't say shit you don't mean, not even when you're half asleep."

"..."

"I know it's not a call you're happy with, and not the one you would have made. But you said it was my turn." Then, because she knew how to twist the knife, she pinned him with another Look as she continued. "I wanted to push Alpha Thompson harder, remember? I was pretty sure he was hiding something and I wanted to push. You convinced me--"

"Yeah yeah," he muttered into his coffee cup. That 'convincing' had come in the form of a massive guilt trip about the missing wolves. He'd been kind of a shit to get his way, so really, what she was doing was fair turnabout.

And he did trust Allison's judgment, even if their methods of choice weren't always the same.

"Now stop being a pouty pants," she teased as she knocked her shoulder into his. "And pull on that Stilinski charm instead. You need that talisman."

"Need is such a strong word. I would like to have it."

"So when we were dealing with slimy Frederick you needed it, but now you just have a vague, passing interest?"

"Yes."

"You are so petty."

"Damn skippy." The fancy elevator didn't 'ding', but instead sent out a soft chime of music to let them know that they'd arrived at the right floor. He hated it. Pretentious rich people bullshit, that's all it was. Of course the Fanged Maven surrounded himself with crap as stuck up and stupid as his pseudonym. "Look. We are not agreeing to any blanket favors," he hissed as he let her drag him through the doors and into the hallway. The carpet looked lush and inviting - he sort of wanted to kick off his socks and shoes and bury his toes in it. Fucking annoying, that's what it was. "I've heard about how this guy operates--"

"From Lucinda, who you know probably tried to screw him over. From what I hear, he's usually pretty fair with what he asks, as long as you aren't trying to get one over on him."

"Yeah yeah. No blanket favors, nothing illegal--"

"Pfft."

"Nothing too illegal, no murder--"

"You're closing off a lot of possibilities here. We might have to give a little, because I don't think he's going to want us to bake him cookies."

"Which is a shame. My cookies are awesome. Scrumptious even. My cookies bring all the boys to the yard." A passing woman shot him a look, and he wasn't sure if she was disgusted by the gay part or if she had something against baked goods. Either way, he stuck his tongue out at her like the mature adult he was and only just resisted the urge to flip her off. She startled back but before he could tease anymore, Allison again swayed her body into his. He reluctantly let it go and let the woman pass without antagonizing her any further. "Spoilsport." Her arm linked through his, giving a light squeeze, and he gave up on the idea of staying upset with her. As much as he hated the idea of going to the Fanged Maven - the Fanged fucking Maven, Jesus Christ on a pogo stick - it probably wasn't going to end in disaster. His Alley-cat had good instincts, just like every stray that managed to survive more than a few years. They would be fine, even if the amount of wealth wafting out of every apartment they passed was giving him hives.

The door they eventually stopped at was like all the rest. Solid, expensive looking wood with a gold plate etched with the apartment number. To his grudging admiration, he could feel a web of sophisticated, discreet protection spells surrounding the space. If he hadn't been expecting to feel something, he might have missed it. Well, okay - he wouldn't have, because his senses could give Spidey's a run for their money. Hyper-vigilance for the win! But a more typical magic user wouldn't have been able to sense more than the first level or two, and most people probably didn't realize there was anything extra there at all. So yeah, maybe the guy did know a thing or two about subtlety. Maybe. A sudden bit of hope entered him as he dared to dream that the man's stupid fucking nickname was not some pretentious douchebaggary, but a tongue-in-cheek joke. A bit of irony, a wink and a nod to how ridiculous it all was.

Please, please please let it be covert snark and not asshattery.

As Allison reached out to knock, the door swung open in time with the gesture, like the wood itself was dancing away from her touch. If the hinges had squeaked or the entryway had been wreathed with shadow, Stiles would have grabbed her hand and fucking booked it. He knew how that story ended, and never again. But there was a soft, warm light instead, and now that the walls had been breached - sort of - he could smell the unmistakable scent of a roast simmering somewhere in the depths of the apartment. It made it feel almost homey, and maybe his hope had been justified and this wouldn't be awful.

"What a fantastic surprise." He knew that purr, knew the chest that was put on fabulous display by the deep v of the softest looking sweater he'd ever seen. Peter Hale's neck looked as biteable as he remembered, and shit. Fuck. Abort abort abort abor-- "I knew I'd be seeing you again," Stiles heard himself make a vague noise of agreement, but fuck if he knew what he was agreeing to. He was far too distracted by the forearms revealed by folded-up sleeves and the corded muscles there as he crossed them over his chest. And Peter's casual lean against the doorway? That shit should be made illegal. "But I didn't think it would be this soon, or that you would find me. Miss Argent."

It almost wasn't an insult, what with the way he tipped his head in acknowledgment. Allison still bared her teeth at him and tossed her hair in a threat of her own. "Miss Stilinski," she corrected. While it wasn't strictly true, it was absolute in spirit.

"... hm. Hello Stiles." His own name was like a caress, and holy fuck. Mayday, or at least something like it because he wasn't exactly going down. "Won't you come in?"

"Uhh. Hey. Hi Peter. I didn't know you, you know. Lived around here. Or exactly here. ... you're the Fanged Maven? You?"

"Awful, isn't it?" Peter's grin was sharp enough to cut, and Stiles thought maybe he wouldn't mind bleeding. "My favorite niece helped me pick it. In her defense, she was six at the time. I decided it was something worth keeping." Stiles wanted to ask if it had been one of the nieces that had been lost, or if she was one of the few surviving Hale wolves. He bit back the urge, however, because he could occasionally have just a bit of tact. "Now that the reveal is over, come in. I'll make tea."

"Do you have any white tea?" It was a gamble - most people only had black or herbal - but he had hope. Peter seemed like the kind of guy who would have a whole variety of shit in his kitchen. The wolf smiled and opened the door wider, beckoning them in. "That is not an answer. Also, creepy. You are totally a Creeper Wolf."

"Flattery will get you everywhere. And as it happens, I have some Silver Needle," of course he did, pretentious bastard. "As well as a blend - Tuscany, it's called, and it has a few hints of mint in it. Silver Needle it is." Annoyed that Peter had correctly interpreted his facial expression, Stiles scowled and gave a loud slurp of his rapidly dwindling coffee before he began to follow the wolf into his den. Allison, now on the same level of high alert that he'd been on previously, trailed after them both. She hesitated before she closed the door, he noted, but she still seemed determined to see the plan through. "Not a fan of mint?"

"I only like it sometimes. And I've got a thing I'm doing later. A single source white tea is best."

"What kind of ritual are you doing that needs purification beforehand? Whatever it is, you really shouldn't be drinking that coffee, sweetheart." Allison apparently agreed, because she suddenly kicked out with one foot to catch him in the back of the thigh. He stumbled but didn't actually fall into Peter, thank fuck, though he almost lost the coffee.

"I didn't know you were going to do a ritual!" She didn't bother to try and whisper; Peter would have heard her anyway. "I would have gotten you tea if I'd known!"

"A little coffee this early is not going to make or break anything!" he retorted, reaching back to rub the sore spot. "Also. Allison. Alley-cat. My dearest stray. Violence is not the answer."

"For us it usually is, actually. And that isn't the point!"

"Oh for-- see what you've done?" Peter had been pretty chill, so he dared to reach out and lightly push against Peter's shoulder. The wolf immediately looked back with a grin, those preternatural blues flashing at him. "You're not even sorry, are you? Freakin' frack, guys. I literally need to re-attune some of my tools. It's barely a ritual."

"Were you cutting up cheese with your athame again?"

"Again?"

"Do not get judgy on me, fuzzball. And no, Allison, I was not." It had been a steak, and all his other knives had been dirty. What was he supposed to do? Not eat his delicious steak? Wash dishes? Please. "It's something that should be done periodically, that's all. And I've got those new candles too, and I maybe used my ritual bowl for cereal the other day, so." She snorted while Peter shot him an amused look. He was just glad the wolf wasn't offended - some magical creatures or magic practitioners got real fussy about shit like that. Most people seemed of the opinion that he should treat the tools of a magic user's trade with more respect. And he'd tried at first, he really had, but there was no point to it, not really, and other people could suck it. It wasn't his fault that he didn't really need any of the trappings that most magic users required to get results. He mostly used them to keep focus. At least people thought he was just an asshole and didn't guess that he was a Spark. "Anyway. Some Silver Needle would be awesome. Also." After he slammed back the rest of his coffee, he waggled his cup. "Where can I toss this?"

To his surprise Peter actually took the empty container from his hand before waving them into what had to be the living room. The apartment was huge, and were those stairs? Holy fuck - was Peter the kind of rich that meant he could have apartments on multiple levels and build stairs??? He shared a look with Allison - she seemed just as shook as he was - and linked arms with her before they both entered the room. The place dripped money from the walls, figuratively, and it was sort of awesome and annoying. The anti-capitalism part of him was shrieking in fury, but the floor to ceiling bookshelf that took up an entire wall was almost enough to make him swoon. Tearing his attention from that, he looked around for somewhere to sit.

There was an armchair he wanted to sink into, curl up with a good book, and never leave. From the small stack of paperbacks on the table nearby Peter felt the same. The chair looked well loved and broken in, soft around the edges in a way he hadn't expected. It made him hesitant to sit there, in case the wolf objected. Unfortunately just looking at the couch made him want to take a nap. It looked super comfortable - nothing like the chic, hard monstrosities he'd seen in other richly decorated homes - and the blanket thrown over the back was probably even softer and warmer than Peter's sweater.

Maybe he and Allison did need to revisit their payment structure. Money couldn't buy happiness, but it sure as shit could buy comfy, cozy surroundings.

There was nowhere to sit but the sofa or armchair, not unless he wanted to park his skinny ass on the gleaming coffee table like some kind of heathen. But the chair seemed like a place that Peter might prefer to sit, and wolves got pretty territorial. On the other hand, Peter operated out of his den, so clearly he had to be okay with the possibility that people were going to touch his shit. Except maybe that was part of the test? There were stories about what happened to people who crossed the Fanged Maven. He was pretty sure that he and Allison could take the guy, but it would be rude to start a fight on purpose.

Also, he really, really wanted the talisman they were going to ask Peter to find. That the werewolf was hot like burning, and Stiles wanted to climb him like a tree was a fun bonus that he got to enjoy for himself. Not offending Peter too much was high on his list of priorities.

"I'm gonna sit in your chair, if that's cool!" Allison shot him yet another Look, and he stuck his tongue out. He knew he didn't have to raise his voice so loud, but it would have felt weird to talk like Peter was still in the room. Werewolf hearing was one thing, manners were another.

"That's fine. Make yourself at home," Peter called back a moment later. "You too, Huntress. I suppose." Allison rolled her eyes but didn't verbally protest or look too pissed off so he let it go.

The armchair was just as awesome as it had looked. Stiles let out a sigh of pleasure as sat down, then reached out to grab one of the books on the coffee table. He hadn't pegged Peter as a fantasy nerd, but the well-loved, soft-spined book was The Silmarillion. It was something he had tried to read once upon a time. Then he'd quickly realized it wasn't really anything like The Hobbit and noped out. Opening the book and scanning through a couple pages he congratulated himself on his decision - teen Stiles and his over/undermedicated ADHD never would have been able to get through it. He also saw that Peter was the kind of guy who underlined, made notes in the margins and even dog-eared his pages. If it had been a first edition or a magic tome he would have been a little horrified; to find it in a novel only made him want to squish Peter's cheeks and call him adorable. The notes were also easier to digest than the source material, so he busied himself with reading those while they waited for the wolf to reappear. He quickly lost himself, eyes darting from passages to the notes and back, delighting in how often he snorted in amusement during the second read. Peter had a knack for making dry observations that tickled his funny bone.

His tea appeared in his line of sight, delicately scented steam wafting around him. Without thinking he reached up and gave a soft hum of pleasure as the warmth of the mug seeped into his hand. He pulled it close to his chest and kicked off his shoes, deeply involved in Peter's thoughts on Melkor and the disruption of the music of the Ainur. Once his feet were freed, he tucked them under himself and curled up, sipping absently as he read. The tea was good - the perfect temperature, with just a hint of sweetness. He melted a little further against the back of the chair, ready to sit there all day.

At least until someone sat down on the arm of it and he was suddenly thrown back into the real world. Blinking heavily, he stared up at the back of Peter's neck, a bit amazed it was being displayed so freely. It wasn't as vulnerable as the front, but still. It was... something. Especially since the man had the most biteable neck Stiles had ever seen. His fingers itched to touch, so he cupped them both around the mug and held on tight. It took a while to tune into the conversation, what with the fascinating way Peter's muscles moved and bunched under his tight shirt, but eventually he managed.

"-- good shot." Peter was saying, apparently conversing with Allison like he hadn't hated her since the moment they met. "Not the best weapon to be toting around when dealing with werewolves, of course, but I see the appeal. Do you have any specialized arrows?"

"A few. I have some exploding heads," which had cost a pretty fucking penny even with a discount for services rendered. "And a few with fletching from some different supernatural folks. I like the way phoenix feathers feel the best," she admitted with a shrug and half a smile. "But they're hard to come by. I save them for special occasions and try to retrieve them when I can."

"I might have a source." He couldn't see Peter's expression, but he did take note of the way Allison's eyebrows flew up in surprise. It was the only sign of it she showed, because she could pretend to be unruffled with the best of them. "Let me do some checking for you. I'm sure I could run that job parallel to whatever it is that Stiles wants."

"... that would be great." Allison squinted a little bit, clearly trying to find the angle of the offer. "But it might be more than we can afford." Peter snorted and waved a hand, dismissing the concern entirely.

"Money I have. I'm sure we can come to a different arrangement that's mutually beneficial to all parties involved."

"Because you want in his pants."

"Because I can see the benefit of being friendly with the two of you. I did some more digging after your little rescue, and I liked what I heard. No need to be so suspicious, Huntress."

"And also because--"

"That's completely separate from business." Peter's falsely prim voice kept him from digesting his actual words for a long moment. When he finally processed them, it was mid-sip and he choked on the liquid immediately. Even as he started to hack up a lung along with the inhaled tea, he felt his cheeks and his ears turn hot. Through watering eyes he saw Peter turn toward him, and then there was a large hand rubbing his back. That didn't help the flush that was probably turning more and more of his body red, and it didn't really help him breathe any better either. Still, he would totally take it. Peter had very nice hands.

He waved off several 'are you alright's from both Allison and Peter, and when he started to get the coughing under control flashed a thumbs up with one hand. "I'm good! I'm... so good. All good."

"Hmm." Allison was skeptical, probably because of how his eyes were still leaking a little and his voice was coming out shaky. He stuck his tongue out at her, coughed one more time, and then leaned back in the chair. As he did, Peter's hand shifted but didn't leave, dragging up his spine until it curved around the base of his neck. Trying very, very hard to ignore that and not hyperventilate because holy fucking shit, he kept his eyes steadily on his best friend. His best friend, who he was totally going to murder for the knowing smirk on her face. "You're supposed to drink that, not breathe it."

"You are a bad friend." She only rolled her eyes, still looking way too amused for her own good. Maybe he'd put something squishy in her bed...

"I'm glad you're alright, sweetheart." Peter's smile was fucking lethal, what with the way it crinkled around his eyes and put a little dimple in his left cheek. That shouldn't be so attractive, dammit. "Now. What is it that I can get for you?"

The subtle emphasis on the last word made his heart start racing. The bastard knew it too, what with the way the smile turned into a smirk. He was blushing again, he knew it, but fuck if he could stop. "Uh." All the answers that sprang readily to his tongue were wildly inappropriate, ranging from 'fuck me' to 'cuddle with me and read me this book along with your annotations'. He'd also enjoy fucking the man or sucking his cock, but no. None of that was why he'd come to see the Fanged Maven. "Well. There's this. There's this talisman."

"Oh my God."

Ignoring Allison and her muffled giggling was made easier by staring into Peter's blue, blue eyes. "Is there?" The hint of rumble in that smooth voice was going to kill him, unless the gentle squeeze to the back of his neck did it first. "What kind of talisman are you in the market for, Stiles?"

"I know this. I know I know this." Peter's chuckle made him shiver, and maybe the wolf realized that Stiles couldn't think like this. He pulled his hand away, fingers brushing along his shoulder until they couldn't anymore. They left a tingling line of heat in their wake, and he just knew Peter could smell how turned on he was. "Fuck."

"Maybe after I take you out to dinner. Now tell me about the talisman Stiles."

"After... after..." What? Holy shit. Was Peter really... he'd thought the pretty stuff had been a tease, that all of it had been a tease because the wolf could tell how he affected Stiles. But maybe. Just maybe. Maybe he had a shot after all. "Really?"

"You're very dense for someone so clever. What exactly is he looking for?" Peter turned his body back toward Allison, who was still quietly snickering behind one hand. As he did, he settled further onto the armrest of the chair, legs falling open enough that his knee was pressing against Stiles' leg. He really, really did not need the image of Peter straddling anything. It was far too easy to imagine how that loose-limbed sprawl would translate into other areas.

"We've been looking for ways to beef up some aspects of his magic. He drains fast when it comes to certain kinds of spells." Alley-cat didn't mention what kinds of spells, which he was quietly relieved about. Peter probably wasn't going to try and kill them, but still. A little mystery was what saved him from being hunted for what he was by people looking to turn him into a glorified battery. "A couple months ago we heard about a talisman - the Hand of Dolus - that might help with that."

"Hm." Peter's head canted to the side, brows knitted together in thought. After a moment he slung one arm over the back of the chair, fingers dangling down and brushing over Stiles' arm. He seemed closer too, like maybe the man was sliding a little to lean further into his space. "Sounds vaguely familiar, but I sense some research in my future. Do you want me to locate it for you? Or am I going the extra mile and procuring it as well? If you've already got it I probably can't be of much use," he added with a shrug. After the gesture, his arm was somehow resting directly on Stiles' shoulders. "I've never been interested in using magical items. It's simply not my area of expertise."

"We need you to help us get it." Thank fuck he sounded firm and like he knew what the hell he was talking about. He was a goddamn Spark, and he knew his magic shit. "I know that there are people within the magical community who know where it is. Problem is that I've had a lot of... disagreements with those people."

"Disagreements?"

”Disagreements.”

"He turned a member of the Druid's Council into stone once," Allison reported with glee. "They never did manage to get the gray out of her skin and hair."

"... into stone?"

"She deserved it." That was the complete truth, and Allison was right to say it. "She said horrible things about him, about how he 'disrupted the balance', and then she tried to stab him," her fingers twitched, looking for an arrow that she didn't have. It was sweet how she wanted to protect him. But the way Peter's arm tightened and pulled him in so he was pressed against the wolf's side? Even better. Especially with the angry rumble starting up in his chest.

"She what?" Peter's voice was quiet and dangerous, and there was a considering note to his voice that Stiles didn't like. He had a feeling that if Peter ever found out exactly who it had been, the bitch would end up with much worse than a skin condition.

"In her defense, she did think I was possessed at the time."

"Bullshit. She knew you were yourself again. She was just scared of how powerful you are."

"Whatever. Either way, bridges were burned, enemies were made, and now nobody on the Council or anyone allied with them will tell me a damn thing unless I grovel for forgiveness." He thrust out his chin and felt his expression go hard, the way it always did when he talked about the assholes. "And I won't. Ever." He made a conscious effort to relax, rolling his shoulders and neck to try and loosen them. Peter gave him another squeeze, and he decided he'd rather bask in the wolf's warmth than dwell on the Council of Suck. "Most of them have no problem dragging me into their various shit-shows when they need help, but they aren't going to go out of their way to get me something that'll increase my powers." He looked up at Peter and grinned, tipping his mug in the wolf's direction. "So we came to you."

"I came to you and dragged Stiles along kicking and screaming," Allison corrected. He stuck his tongue out at her, because she was an awful friend. "So... can you help us?"

"That is certainly more in my wheelhouse. Why don't we call this a... consultation, hm? On the house. I'll do a little digging and make sure it's a job I can complete. If I can't then I'm sure I can find something else that will do just as well."

"Is that also going to be 'on the house'?" Allison looked as tightly strung as her bow, eyes locked on Peter. She could be such a suspicious creature, even more so than he was. Where Stiles hated owing favors, she was a skeptic when it came to anything that was offered for free. There was always a string or two, in her opinion and experience.

"Absolutely not. I'm the best at what I do, and I get paid accordingly. Now. What I will do is offer a bargain. A trade, if you will. Maybe a few, depending on how difficult this ends up being. I've got some contacts down in Louisiana that need help solving a little mystery involving skunk apes. There's a tribe that's been moving closer and closer to human territory, and my contacts want to know why and how to stop it. There's been enough sightings lately that too many people are starting to take them seriously. If it doesn't stop, they're going to have to try and relocate the tribe which is--"

"An absolute pain in the ass." Peter nodded and he couldn't help but sigh. Skunk apes were fine - he had a crude understanding of their basic hand signs, though there were always regional differences that tripped him up. Their smell was intense to say the least, but he and Allison had survived much worse. The real problems would come from whoever was 'managing' the skunk apes. Too many of the 'advanced' humanoid supernaturals tended to treat skunk apes like dumb animals. He imagined whoever it was had already been told exactly what the problem was, only to ignore it because they didn't believe skunk apes capable of actual thought. "Yeah, okay. Sounds pretty fair."

"I hate the swamp. And what do you get out of us helping your contacts?"

"I owe them." Peter answered with an elegant shrug. "They helped me track down a priceless magical tome I'd been searching high and low for. They wanted a favor in return, and now I'm sending them aide. You help me and both our debts are clear. Probably. Again, if the job turns tricky I might have to ask for something else."

"Who's paying for us to get to Louisiana?" They could afford it themselves, but Stiles didn't blame her for asking. It was always nice to nail down the specifics of payment before anyone shook hands.

"I will, of course. And any other expenses that require money instead of expertise. That's what I'm asking for, not for you to fund the expedition. And I’m only asking you to go if I can actually get you what you need."

"Any other jobs to pay up after this one we’ll accept on a case by case basis, and you continue paying expenses."

"That last part goes without saying. Though I'll want a reason for anything you turn down."

"We want regular updates on your progress."

"I'll be sure to give them. And if they aren't regular enough then you're welcome here any time to get them." Peter hugged him a little tighter, and though he couldn't see he was sure the man had just smelled his hair. Or maybe rubbed his cheek against it. "Especially you, Stiles. Feel free to swing by even if it isn't related to work." Before he could pick his jaw up off the floor enough to answer, Peter was changing the subject. "I hate to cut this short, but I do have a few loose ends to tie up before I start on your case. How should I get in touch with you after I've assessed the situation?"

"You can have my number." It came out fast and eager, and Allison was rolling her eyes at him and his desperate, pathetic self. "I mean. You know. For contacting us about the thing. Not for like, anything else. If you wanted to chat about other things I'd be, you know, open or whatever. But not if you don't want to! It's all up to you, ball's in your court and I am going to stop talking now. Any second I'm just gonna shut up. Just gonna disengage."

"Give me your phone, sweetheart, and I'll put my number in." The wash of heat over his face yet again was fucking annoying. Peter had no right flustering him the way he was. Rudely sexy, that's what the wolf was. Stiles still did as he was told, unlocking his screen and going into his contacts before passing the device over. With a few quick taps Peter entered his information, and he thought that was the end of it... until suddenly Peter was holding up the phone and smiling - smiling, not smirking, dimple on full display - into it. He was taking a picture. For his contact number. To put in Stiles' phone, looking all charming and attractive and shit. Holy fuck. More tapping followed the picture, and from far away Stiles heard a soft chime that probably meant Peter had sent a message to himself so that he would have Stiles' number as well. "You can send me a picture later," Peter told him with a wink as he handed the phone back.

"Um."

"Oh my God. Come on, Sti. You heard the man - he's got things to do." Allison was already moving towards the door, which was just. So not good. He wasn't ready to leave. There was tea left! It was still warm, mug cradled in his hands. And then there was the book that he'd never get through without Peter's snarky little scribbles. He didn't have a chair even half so comfy at his house either, and there certainly wasn't a werewolf to half-cuddle with waiting at home for him. "Stiles?" She turned, one brow arched, and then she smiled at him with the full force of her dimples. "You heard him - you can come back another time to read. We have things to do. You know Walter doesn't like it when we miss a smudging."

"That man's house hasn't been haunted in like, three years," he complained after chugging his tea. "No smudging necessary. He's just lonely." Peter took his mug before he could ask where it should go, and Stiles felt cold when the wolf moved away from him to stand. "I mean, I get it - his kids are assholes and he's too grumpy for any of his neighbors to like him, but still. All the constant sage smoke cannot be good for his lungs."

"It's good for his soul, Sti."

"We aren't in the business of saving souls, Alley-cat."

"With the way you cave for sob stories we really can't call what we do a business at all." A low blow, especially in front of a wolf he might want to woo, but the point was taken. Their payment structure really did need an overhaul, and he probably needed to stop making her do rescues for free. At the very least they could start asking for their expenses to be paid the same way Peter was offering to do. "Now get a move on. We have to pick up the sage from your house. I bet he made cookies again," she added when he didn't immediately stand up. His mouth began to water as he thought about those cookies, and he could taste the sweetness and feel the way they had melted on his tongue. They had been some bangin' baked goods, even better than his own, so yeah. Maybe visiting lonely Walter wasn't an awful thing. "And after that we're meeting with Lucinda."

"I'm not fucking doing one more job involving redcaps. It's always redcaps with her. What the fuck is she doing that's pissing them off so much? That's what we should be investigating. She's the actual menace." Stalling. He was stalling and he knew it. Allison did too, because she knew him like the back of her hand. The slow tap, tap, tap of her foot was a less than subtle call to action, and the hand on her hip meant that her patience was running low. He hated that she was right. And anyway, the chair was less comfortable now that he was sitting in it alone. "I'm coming, I'm coming." Peter stepped in front of him before he could make good on his word, one hand extended. He wasn't a fucking damsel and didn't need any help standing up, but he'd get to touch Peter again. And Peter had such nice hands.

Their fingers tangled, and then the wolf was pulling him up slow and gentle. They ended up almost chest to chest, and he was pleased to note that it was Peter who had to look up at him. Peter smelled almost as good as he looked, and they were still holding hands and it was the most romantic thing he'd done with anyone for a really long time and they weren't even dating. How could Peter's eyes be so blue even when he wasn't shifted? They glowed all on their own, and they were close enough to kiss.

Peter leaned in, and for a wild second he was sure that they were going to. Instead the wolf pressed their cheeks together, then rubbed his stubble along Stiles' skin in a clear claim. A shiver ran down his spine, fingers tightening around Peter's, when the touch lingered. He hardly dared to breathe as Peter dragged along his cheek and down his jaw while he tried not to melt into a puddle of goo. He should stop it, tell Peter to back off and that they didn't know each other nearly well enough for such intimate scenting. His mouth had gone far too dry to speak, however, and his body was very, very up for it to continue. When the wolf pulled back, it was only far enough to switch sides, marking Stiles' other cheek just as thoroughly. He was already a shivering mess, ready to swoon into Peter's arms, when the wolf switched tactics again. He turned his head and mouthed at the spot just below his ear, which punched all the air out of Stiles' lungs. His mouth fell open and his brain short-circuited, the whole world narrowed to Peter and his mouth and how their hands were still joined. The wolf continued all the way down the side of his neck, probably reveling in just how turned on Stiles was by the (relatively) chaste action. At the end of the journey, Peter delivered a firmer nip to the hollow of his throat, and he was absolutely ashamed of the moan he let out at the feeling.

He wasn't sure if he was happy or sad when it was over, because it had been torture of the best kind. "Goodbye for now, Stiles," Peter crooned, lifting their joined hands. "I'll see you soon." He turned their arms, and then those sinful lips pressed against the fragile pulse-point of his wrist, the wolf's eyes still locked with his. It was a long, lingering kiss that felt like it meant something, but fuck if he could figure out what it was. He was having trouble remembering his own name.

The walk out of Peter's apartment was a blur, and pretty soon they were back in that horrifically pretentious elevator. He found himself staring at the filigree again, this time with the scent of Peter lingering in his nose and the remembered feel of his mouth tingling on his skin. Going to the Fanged Maven had been a fantastic idea, even if the name was still ridiculous. He should have let Allison convince him sooner, because even if Peter couldn't get what he was after the trip was well worth it.

"Hey. Hey Allison." She didn't answer, and when he looked her way she was looking back at him. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she had a very, very judgy look on her face. He ignored that though, because he had way better things to think about. "Allison? Hey Alley-cat."

"What, Stiles?"

"Do you think I could maybe land me a werewolf boyfriend?"

"You are such an idiot."

Chapter Text

Peter's contact photo was mocking him. So was his number, which Stiles had memorized over half an hour ago but couldn't quite bring himself to dial. Couldn't click the stupid phone icon either. Fuck, he felt like he was seventeen again, fresh from his first actual conversation with Lydia. Except then he'd had all the overconfidence of youth on his side. Now he had indigestion when he ate too much dairy and an ache in his knee that twinged whenever an earthquake was on the way.

"When did I turn into my old man?" he muttered as he flopped back down onto the couch. For a moment he fought the urge, then gave into his surging, misplaced teen angst and kicked his feet up into the air. "Fucking scared of making a goddamn phone call."

Not of the phone call though. Not really. It was the way he felt too big for his skin. It was Beacon Hills breathing down his neck, the same feelings of inadequacy from when he was a kid bubbling under the surface. Allison had hyped him up, gotten him all excited about Peter and possibilities and potential. She seemed absolutely sure that if he asked, Peter would come running. Like if he snapped, he could have the hot werewolf all up in his business yesterday, ready to fuck him into the mattress. 'He would feed you after too,' she had added, absolutely disgusted but in an encouraging way. Stiles hadn't had more than a glass, but he had been tipsy with the suggestion when they parted. He should have made her come home with him. Fuck, he should have just dialed Peter from the restaurant before his nerve deserted him completely.

Before he found himself staring at smiling pixels and feeling trapped right back in Beacon Hills again.

"Fuck it." Stiles ignored the voice screaming that he had no chance and slammed his thumb down on the little icon that was still laughing at him. It took every bit of grit and learned courage he had not to hang up when he heard the ring tone, but he did it. He held on. It was something to be proud of, in a very pathetic way. Stiles heard himself whimper and clapped his free hand over his eyes, wishing his couch would just fucking swallow him already.

"Hello Stiles." Peter sounded criminally sexy on the phone. Stiles couldn't decide if this was the worst or best thing that had ever happened to him, and his feet flailed a little before settling into a nervous rhythm. "I was wondering how long I'd have to wait for you to call sweetheart."

Sweetheart. Fuck. Peter had to know what that did to him. Had to, because there was a husky chuckle in his ear and Stiles was melting.

"Hi Peter." He sounded embarrassed to his own ears, but he was also biased. Even with his wolfy powers Peter couldn't know how warm his blush was or hear his thoughts. Maybe the werewolf had no idea he wanted to bolt out of his own skin. Peter couldn't know just how much he was being thrown back into high school, back when he'd been a stammering virgin worshiping at the feet of an uncaring goddess. Peter cared. There'd been flirting and the scenting and Allison thought he had a chance. This wasn't high school. He needed to remember he'd left that all behind years ago. "Sorry to make you wait, I guess." He took a deep breath and moved his hand enough to look at the ceiling. He could do this. He could. "If I'd known you were pining I would have rung you up before I went out to dinner."

"And invited me along, I hope." There was a rustling sound, like Peter was getting comfortable. The thought made his cheeks flame even as he bit his lip to fight down a grin.

"Probably not. It was a girls night and Ally takes those very seriously. She'd have shot you on sight."

"But you were allowed?" Peter scoffed, then gave a prim little sniff. "I'm fantastic at braiding hair, you know. And I can gossip with the best of them. I'd be an absolute treat to have at a girls night." Stiles felt some of his anxiety start to fall away at the banter. He could absolutely do this. The werewolf wasn't going to make fun of him or treat him like gum on the bottom of his shoe. This was going to be fine. After a little more talk to ease the way, he'd ask Peter out on a date and everything would be okay.

"Alley-cat doesn't give a shit about gossip." Lies, but worth it for the scandalized gasp from Peter. "Braiding might get you an invite - how are you at painting nails?"

"I have extremely steady hands." Warmth rushed through him again, this time hard on the heels of arousal. Peter's voice had dropped to a sultry whisper, insinuation curling in his mouth. Stiles sort of wished he could kiss Peter right then to taste it. "I'd love to show you some time." He wasn't sure exactly what sound punched out of him at that, but it made Peter chuckle and switch back to a lighter tone. "I also make a mean margarita, if that would sell Miss Allison."

"Couldn't hurt," he managed weakly. The rapid shift had him questioning himself, which was stupid. Peter was flirting with him - him specifically. Probably. He probably wasn't just a giant flirt. Maybe? "I'll send an inquiry to corporate and get back to your people."

"My people will be delighted." More rustling, then a quiet sigh. "How are you, Stiles?" His voice was warm, like a bath. Maybe if he asked nice enough, Peter would just keep talking and he could let it wash over him until he drifted off to sleep.

Crushes always turned his thoughts so stupid.

"I'm alright. It was a long day." Lifting his left leg higher, he tugged at his sweatpants until he could see his calf. The bite mark was indeed still there, throbbing at the very edge of his consciousness. There were only a few pearls of liquid on the surface - the poison was almost all drained, which meant he could finally bandage the damn thing up after he was done on the phone. "Almost got eaten. Lucky thing I'm such a salty bitch or the pishacha might have taken a bigger bite." Peter laughed at the joke, which banished that throb completely. "How are you?"

"Tired." In that moment Peter sounded it, like he was letting down his guard just for Stiles. "I was involved in a... discussion for most of the day. It went poorly." There was an edge to the man's voice that Stiles couldn't place. He did know that he didn't like it. Suddenly he wanted to be with the man again, wanted Peter's head in his lap so he could stroke and soothe the stress away. "I'm not..." Hesitation didn't seem to be Peter's style, but he still heard it. It made him feel special even as it sent a bit of worry through him. "I'm not sure I can wriggle my way out of this contract."

"Contract?" Stiles frowned and brought his feet down to sit on the armrest. It sounded serious, like he might have to jump up and run to the wolf's rescue. "Why do you need to do this wriggling?"

"... I no longer find it satisfactory. My part in it, I mean. We negotiated terms a couple weeks ago - right before I let myself be captured by those Hunters." Peter almost sounded... pleading? Or upset? Stiles didn't know him well enough to decode the note in the wolf's voice, and he had no other clues to go off. What the hell was going on?

"Oh...kay. What, uh... what were the terms?"

Silence. Uncomfortable, unwelcome, awkward silence. Stiles found himself fidgeting and wishing he had a pencil to chew on, because the suspense was fucking killing him. Why had he asked? Why had Peter brought it up if he didn't want to be asked? Why wasn't the wolf saying anything??

"Werewolves are... virile."

"... con...gratulations? On that?" What. The. Fuck?

"So we do well as participants in certain rituals. Types of rituals."

"Which makes sense. With the, ah. Virility. So the problem is...?" Peter huffed, sounding frustrated. That didn't help clear up his confusion, because what the hell was the man even talking about?

"The problem," Peter's drawl had his back up immediately. He didn't like it when anyone talked to him like he was an idiot. Apparently that included hot werewolves. "Is that now I have a reason to want out of those sorts of rituals. The ones where my virility is important." He was missing something. Had to be missing something, because Peter had that weird pleading note in his voice again. But Stiles still had no idea what he was trying to say, which left him grasping at straws.

"Uh. I guess... I mean. How binding is the contract?"

"Extremely."

"... then I guess... I guess you have to go through with it?" He ventured the thought, then cleared his throat. "Look, if it really makes you uncomfortable--"

"Makes me uncomfortable?"

"Yeah. If it makes you uncomfortable," he rolled his eyes while stressing the word, wishing Peter would just listen to what he was trying to say. "And they won't listen or let you off the hook, then me'n Ally will help. Let us at 'em, you know? We can't wriggle for you, but there's very few contracts that can't be stopped with some well-placed violence and magic."

"But it wouldn't bother you. If I participated in rituals like that." Peter's voice was as taut as Allison's strung bow, and Stiles was lost. "Not at all. You'd be fine - just fine - if I used my virility as a bargaining chip? Available to anyone if the price is right?"

It sort of sounded like Peter was alluding to... prostitution? Sex magic? The thought had the most visceral part of him howling ‘NO’ and 'MINE', but that was... he didn't have any kind of claim on Peter's sex life. They weren't exclusive or even dating at all. A hot bit of scenting and a kiss to his wrist didn't mean he was entitled to deciding what Peter did with his body. Besides - he didn't even really know what Peter was hinting around. So he swallowed the way he wanted to growl out a demand that Peter never have sex again with anyone who wasn’t Stiles and answered the only way he could.

"No. Why would it bother me?"

"... right. Of course." Peter was either furious or devastated, and Stiles didn't know which or why. "Well then. Maybe there isn't a problem with the contract at all." The wolf's voice had changed yet again, gone smooth and silky with just an edge of anger. "I suppose there's no need to break it. I have always enjoyed sex magic, and Leanne is a master of the craft." The thought sent up a hollow ache inside of him that he had no right to feel. "Thank you for the input, Stiles. I can see that I was agonizing over nothing. Have a lovely evening."

"Peter wait--" The call ended, leaving him both bewildered and bereft. There had been a whole conversation that he just hadn't grasped, that he still didn't understand. Had Peter wanted him to be upset? He was upset, but he shouldn't be. Peter was a free agent, and sex magic really was amped up by a supernatural participant like a werewolf. He'd probably gotten something really good out of the deal. People would give a lot of favors to have someone like Peter be a participant.

Leanne had been smart to seek out Peter. She was probably a powerful witch or something like that. Maybe even a fellow supernatural. Probably gorgeous and apparently really good at sex. Better than he was. No one would ever call him a 'master' of it, that was for sure. Nobody had ever complained, but he'd never really managed to keep someone in his bed either. There'd only been two long-term partners, and he had a feeling they'd stayed despite his skills - or lack thereof - in the bedroom. It was good - great even! - that Leanne was skilled. Peter would be drained at the end, so it was awesome that he'd get to enjoy the main event before he experienced that crash. He hoped Leanne would stick around and coddle the wolf after. Give him lots of water and cuddles and a snack.

He hoped that all the future partners Peter did sex magic with were that considerate.

Stiles left his phone on the floor along with all his hopes of asking Peter out. The wolf had beautiful people like Leanne begging to do sexy rituals with him. What the fuck would he want with an anxious near-virgin who could barely manage the balls to make a phone call?

”Fuck.”

"I hate the swamp," Allison muttered under her breath, glaring at the knot of people in front of them. He got it, he totally did. They were both covered in mud that stank to high heaven. He couldn't smell-smell it, not with the scent of skunk ape musk clinging to his nostrils, but anyone else would be getting a big old whiff. Allison's jeans had been ripped in several places by the charming fauna in the area, and his own shirt had been slashed by the first skunk ape that they'd stumbled across. Until they'd proved themselves friends things had been a little touch and go. Overall the swamp sucked, but a few nice things had come from it. Allison hadn't exactly been happy when the female skunk apes had converged on her, but she'd borne their treatment with admirable grace. Her dark hair had been carefully plaited, and woven into the strands were dozens of small bones. There were enough that every move she made caused delicate sounds to shiver in the air. She looked every inch the beautiful warrior he knew her to be and he'd taken so many pictures.

Her bonding experience had been painless, which had him extremely jealous. The small symbol he'd allowed their shaman to carve just above his left collarbone hurt like a bitch. He'd always hated getting tattoos even as they boosted his abilities, but damn. They were definitely the way to go, and he was going to thank his artist on bended knee next time he went in.

Though his gift did grant him easier access to the ley lines in the area, so there was that. Allison looked beautiful and deadly, but the braids couldn't stay forever and getting all that shit out of her hair was going to suck. Maybe he'd been the lucky one after all.

He scratched a little at the half-healed mark, because thinking about it made him itch. She immediately swatted at his hand and fixed her glare on him. In retaliation he tweaked one of the braids in her hair and she poked a finger between his ribs. He swallowed a laugh and grabbed her hand to get her to lay off. The scowl he sent her way had no real effect, though at least now she had the start of a grin on her face. The rest of the day was going to be a crap shoot; at least they'd gotten to have a little moment of fun before they had to deal with the dipshits that had brought them to Louisiana in the first place.

The Lebac Coven had appointed themselves as guardians of the area without even a 'by your leave' from the local inhabitants. It happened all too often because humans sucked, but usually there was at least some kind of negotiation or an understanding reached. Some discussion of what the humans (or werewolves, vampires or whatever) could offer in terms of protection or resources. Not here though. The Lebacs had moved in a year ago and just... assumed. They'd assumed a lot of shit and had been very wrong. A lot of that had to do with their disdain, contempt and pity toward the supernatural folk that had inhabited the land for centuries. It was awful and - even worse - it was stupid. Throwing away allies who knew the land better than they ever would had just been so fucking dumb. Now Stiles was willing to bet the morons weren't going to listen to the pair of them either.

As if they'd heard his thoughts - possible, because he sucked so hard at mind fuckery and defense - several members of the Coven looked his way. Their expressions were full of the same contempt they held for those beings that were 'less'. Stiles stuck his tongue out and crossed his eyes, earning a slight giggle from Allison. Initially they had been greeted with thanks and warm smiles. Now that they had shown they didn't mind communicating with the skunk apes, the Coven turned up their noses. With a sigh he dug out his phone and pulled up the thread of texts he had going with Peter, typing with one thumb while his other arm wrapped around Allison's shoulders.

ur friends r dum

I know you know how to type properly.

And they aren't my friends.

:P

They're contacts.

Very mature Stiles.

u adore me so

friends contacts w/e

fucking dumbasses

dunno if we can help them

Do I need to have a little talk with them, sweetheart?

It was hard not to squirm and blush at the typed endearment. He could hear the way the word would roll out of Peter's mouth, like a caress and a tease and a promise all in one. Stiles hadn't yet girded his loins enough to ask the wolf out, not after the first disastrous non-attempt. They did talk a lot though. Almost nonstop, actually, both via text and long phone calls. So he could definitely hear Peter whispering the term in his ear, and he shivered just a little in response. He ignored Allison's elbow to his gut right along with her eye roll. It was none of her business.

nah

but find sum better contacts

cuz these guys suck and r stupid

if ur gonna b shitty b smart abt it

I agree, but you're dodging the question. Are they being rude to you and Allison?

If so then I have no problem making a call or even a little trip to help them remember their manners.

i feel like ud make them dead

dead ppl dont need manners

just find better contacts

some smart ppl who wont piss off ancient powers they dont understand

they fucked up

skunk apes r the least of their problems

the clan came 2 try and help

assholes wont listen

may need new contacts soon for lots of reasons

Do you and Allison need backup? I can be there in a few hours, or I could send someone closer.

pfft me and Alley-cat eat ancient powers for breakfast

but if these ppl don't listen, we prolly cant help em

we r good they might not be

even if i pull on my badass pants i cant save ppl who dont wanna be

sometimes u pay 4 stupid with ur life

I find this ruthless streak of yours deeply attractive. I would love to see you in your badass pants, sweetheart. Or out of them. They'd probably look better on my floor, and you'd look better in my bed.

Stiles felt his stomach swoop and heat spark through his body. He found himself squirming again and trying to hide it. Poorly timed attraction was a major feature of his life, but he really didn't want to pop an inappropriate boner at the moment. Not on the edges of the swamp, not just before he tried to convince a group of idiots to listen to him. Time and a place. Time and a place.

shut up

gotta go rip sum ppl a new 1

think id rather be in ur bed tbh

"You both really need to up your game." Shit! He'd forgotten about her and now she was reading his damn messages over his shoulder. "You're not even doing the fun innuendo anymore, just bad and very obvious flirting." Cheeks flaming, Stiles typed a quick 'bye' and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He was more embarrassed than annoyed, but like hell was he going to admit it. His scowl didn't make her blink - not much ever did - but he was sure that she was quaking in her boots internally. Metaphorically maybe. Whatever. "We could just walk away," she mused quietly as the leader of the Lebacs stalked toward them. "Tell the skunk apes to do the same and just let them reap the consequences."

"Mm. Can't though. I don't want Peter thinking we're flaky. Besides, our darling Jenny Greenteeth--"

"We're not in England, she's way too powerful to be a simple water hag, and if you piss her off I'm not going to drag your ass out of the water when she comes after you." The leader - Marjorie? Maggie? Marge? Mad Madam Mim? - came to a stop in front of them. He pretended not to see her; Allison followed suit beautifully, because she was awesome. She probably wouldn't even let him be dragged into the depths to drown, which was very sweet of her. "So maybe don't refer to her using the only water hag title you know."

"Well it's not like we know her name." A delicate clearing of Mary-Maybell's throat didn't garner a reaction from either of them. Maybe it wasn't wise to antagonize a group of witches, but what the hell. YOLO, or whatever the kids said. Wasn't like they were a match for him anyway. "As I was saying. Getting rid of her was a request from my boo,"

"He isn't and it wasn't. You two aren't dating and we were just supposed to come see what was wrong and give some suggestions. He didn't ask us to take on a suped up water demon."

"Not in so many words, but still. I don't want him to think I'm scared of silly little things like that. Plus I need to show I'm not flaky. So no walking away, Alley-cat." Mimi gasped quietly, and Stiles saw the first sign of true distress on her face at the idea that they might leave. That was good. Maybe they weren't as clueless as they'd tried to pretend. "We're just gonna have to get ready to rumble."

"No!" Allison finally turned to look at Melissa, and one perfect brow lifted in a silent question. "No. You can't. Not if there's another way. There was..." The woman bit her lip hard enough that he was afraid she would draw blood. The wind whistled through the nearby reeds and caused the bones in Allison's hair to knock together in a steady rhythm. Marion - Marion? Marion! that was it! - shuddered at the sound. The look she leveled at Allison started off disgusted, lip curled back in a sneer, then shifted back to uncertainty. "We tried to confront it. We lost... we lost three of our own. They were alive when we retreated and I don't... I don't... we found... some of them. Some of their bones, I mean. There were teeth marks." Marion shuddered, and Stiles could see her arms break out into goosebumps. "I think it ate them."

He and Allison glanced at each other, and on cue she rolled her eyes. Why was everyone always hiding shit from them? How the fuck were they supposed to help if they didn't have all the info? Fucking idiots, the lot of them. If there wasn't more shit the coven was 'forgetting to mention' Stiles would eat every bone in Allison's hair. "I'm sure she did. Probably alive, if I'm being honest. That's what happens when you half-ass rituals that you don't understand." Despite the cloud of judgment surrounding her, Allison still elbowed him in the stomach. Oh good, she was going to pretend to be the nice one. Meant he could speak his mind. "Let me guess - the three that were lost played a key role in whatever stupid summoning ritual you all cooked up."

"It wasn't a summoning," Marion bit out. Over her shoulder he could see that the rest of the Coven were whispering among themselves. The wind was picking up around them, the clacking of Allison't hair louder and Marion's bell-sleeves beginning to flap. "Trista found a clearing that was perfect for outdoor spell work. Private, surrounded by nature and with firm enough ground that we wouldn't sink. No one was using it," Stiles let out a loud, disbelieving snort. Marion's eyes flashed and she took another step forward. "That's what we thought! If we had known--"

"Did you think to fucking ask? Because the skunk apes were pretty adamant that this whole area has been claimed for centuries. Literal and actual centuries. Apparently everyone knows about it. Fuck, even the local will-o-the-wisps are careful not to lead anyone to that clearing. Seems like you were the only ones who were stupid enough to mess with the place."

"Maybe there was a certain malevolence in the area--"

"You don't fuckin' say."

"Stiles. Enough. Tell us what happened, Margaret." Fuck. Not Marion then. Allison laid a gentle hand on Margaret's shoulder and gave an encouraging little smile. Even with the bones in her hair she was apparently a welcome relief from his brand of obnoxious, because the liar-liar in front of them leaned into the touch. It was interesting to say the least, because the rest of the coven was still watching Allison with ill-hidden hostility. "Let us help you."

A hush fell between them, and he could hear Margaret thinking about how much to reveal. If she lied to them again, he was going to let the rest of them be eaten. Well. Maybe not the fourteen-year-old. She should probably get a second chance.

"We were just trying to cleanse the area of dark influences and make it sacred ground."

They'd tried to take it. Any powered-up Jenny Greenteeth worth her salt would go ballistic. There was no way she was going to let a group of witches steal her clearing. Especially not ones who hadn't put much stock in her existence in the first place. There had been no sacrifices - not even a symbolic fruit or charcuterie board! - or any acknowledgment of the powerful being the land belonged to. Stiles was willing to bet there had been signs of a greater power stalking them from the dark and all those warnings had been ignored.

There was laughter hiding in the wind, cold and cruel, harmonizing with the bones woven into Allison's hair. He tuned out Margaret's talk - Alley-cat would fill him in on the important parts later. His focus went back to the swamp, magical senses on full alert. Jenny Greenteeth was a Serious Presence, with full on capital letters and everything. At first he'd chalked the heaviness in the air up to the ley lines in the area. Thanks to his newest mark, he knew that wasn't the case. They were there too, of course, but the two that wound through the area were balanced and steady. This was different - she was different - but not at all out of place. That more than anything told him their 'enemy' was an intrinsic part of the territory. She'd been there long enough that the magic of the place had changed to accommodate her, and if they fought and killed her, he and Allison would be the ones committing the real crime. And yet...

Peter had asked them to help. No matter how much he wondered just why the fuck Peter gave people like them the time of day, he needed to help. If he wanted the wolf to sex him up and maybe even date him at some point then he really should at least try. Though trying didn't have to mean throwing down and kicking ass either.

"Honestly, you all should probably just fucking move on." He made the observation absently as he turned to fully face the swamp once more. "She wouldn't chase you, especially if you gave her a few goats or something. Maybe a bit of blood from all of you." The wind whistled in agreement, and he nodded in acknowledgement. "Yup. The blood for sure. Little cut, few drops of that and she'll let you leave free and clear. I'd maybe give an apology too, but what the fuck do I know. Also the skunk apes should for sure get a couple gifts. They stuck their necks out for you - they weren't moving towards town. They were coming to let you know that you'd fucked up. They offered to help you, even knowing that she'd be pissed about it. And you wouldn't listen to them." His own voice was far away, because the wind was still in his ear and the voice hidden there was crooning a wordless greeting poisoned with kindness. Drawn to it, he took a few steps forward before Allison captured his wrist. She had him, wouldn't let him fall too far. "You fucked up big. Cut your losses and go."

Margaret was probably arguing, or at least he heard a raised voice. Allison squeezed his wrist and he turned to give her a quick smile. In that brief moment she searched his expression before nodding and turning back to the witch. Stiles continued to tune them out, because this Jenny Greenteeth was fascinating. She was calling him, doing her best to sound sweet and soft. He knew better than to fall for that, and used his magic to project his amused skepticism. Immediately the sweetness vanished, but he could swear there was a bit of respect and approval threaded through their line of 'communication'. He didn't want to meet her, he realized suddenly. He didn't want to meet her, didn't want to confront her; he just wanted to leave her to her swamp where she had reigned for centuries. This land was hers, and he never should have interfered.

"Yeah. Get out or she'll eat the lot of you."

"This is our home!"

That he heard, and it made him snort in laughter. The wind was bitter cold as its fingers dragged over his arms and the back of his neck. Couldn't they feel it? How could a group of witches clever or powerful enough to catch the Fanged Maven's attention be so stupid?

"How did you meet Peter?" The sudden change in topic must have confused or upset Margaret, because she fell silent. After allowing that for a moment, he sighed and looked over his shoulder. She was pale, probably frightened. Not nearly frightened enough, but still. It was there. Maybe he could use it to his advantage... once she explained her link to Peter. "Well?"

"My older sister saved him once," she told him, lips pursed out like she'd sucked on a lemon. "When she left," Ah. There it was. Her sister had walked away and probably taken most of the brain cells of the group with her. "We continued to exchange information. What the hell does that have to do with our problem?"

"Just wondering why he puts up with idiots. Now I see." Her shoulders raised and her cheeks puffed out, mutiny in her expression. "Not important. Are all of you here, or would you have to call a few more people to come offer the blood?"

"We're not offering anything! This is our home now, and that vile creature needs to understand that. It can crawl back to whatever hole it slunk out of or you can destroy it." The 'oh no, she'll eat you if you go after her' line had been dropped, apparently. The warning earlier had been insincere, maybe even a goad to egg him and Allison on. Maybe Margaret was just a smidge clever after all, or at least decent at surface level manipulations. "Those are the only paths forward. We will offer it nothing other than the choice to leave or be destroyed."

For a moment, everything stopped. There was a terrible, terrible silence that made the hairs stand up on the back of his neck. Then the wind began to scream, pure rage ripping through the air. Even Margaret and her flock of fools heard it this time. Margaret paled further and staggered back almost two feet before she caught herself. There she remained, trying for determined but mostly looking like she was about to piss herself. Behind her the rest of the Coven had finally stopped clucking. Several were clutching at each other, and Stiles couldn't help the vicious satisfaction he felt at the sight. They deserved worse. Allison flinched, then let go of him to go for her bow. It was his turn to reach out and briefly wrap his fingers around her wrist. He shook his head when she looked his way. She understood immediately and forced herself to relax, standing loose-limbed at his side.

"Ally and I aren’t doing shit." Magic woven into his words, he turned to fully face her for the first time since their conversation started. Whatever was in his expression scared her, because she flinched and then took several more unsteady steps back. Her coven shifted as well, half of them settling into defensive positions and getting ready to fight. The other half looked ready to flee, and he admired that kind of self-preservation. "Do what you want - you're going to anyway. This is not my fight and not my problem. If you don't give her the blood she wants willingly, she'll take it. Probably eat you in the process. If she's not sated after that, anyone local with any kind of magic will be on the menu. Maybe a few innocent bystanders too. All that will weigh down your souls, not mine."

He didn't get an answer right away and hadn't really expected one. He let her mull it over and turned his attention back to Allison. He sounded almost like himself when he talked to her - funnily enough, the easy shift didn't seem to make Margaret feel any better. "I think we're probably okay, but just in case we should probably make an offering too. I really don't want her sending curse vibes our way."

"Especially not with you tied to the ley lines here." She gave a knowledgeable little head nod, and he was so proud of her for absorbing so much witchy knowledge second hand. He shot her finger guns - with both hands because he wasn't a heathen - and even tossed her a wink. Her immediate response was a roll of her eyes. Almost as quickly, however, she had pulled out one of her throwing knives and was already holding it to her palm. "Is here okay, or should we go closer?"

"Closer." He got a Look, and he grinned at the implication. "She hasn't got her hooks in me, honest. This is just professional courtesy. We're saying goodbye to her face, not shouting it across the room. Hang on just a second." Petty as shit and not caring who knew it, he made sure to ram Margaret's shoulder with his own as he went past. Ignoring her spluttering and the way most of the coven cowered, he planted his feet a short distance away from the group. "Look. You don't like me and I don't like you, but I'm still going to offer you this chance." Another shift of the wind, and this time his physical ears heard the bloodthirsty howl threaded through it. "She is so fucking impatient. You'd think being around for a few centuries would teach a creature how to hold her horses." Nobody smiled at his attempt to cut the tension. He sighed and pushed on. "Anyone who offers some blood and then gets the fuck out of dodge will be fine. Jenny here will be picking the rest of you out of her teeth, so. Choice time." Warning delivered, he officially washed his hands of the situation.

Well. He'd probably get a warning going in the local magic community, let everyone else know to give some blood to make allegiances clear.. After that, the whole situation was no longer going to be his responsibility. All things considered, it was a small price to pay to keep from being a snack, and whoever didn't offer it up was an idiot that didn't deserve his help.

Stiles ignored the coven completely after that as well as Margaret's increasingly desperate pleas for help. He'd tried and she hadn't listened. He didn't care enough about her to try any harder. Definitely not enough to upset the balance of the land by taking on an ancient water hag. Maybe he'd do that for Peter - maybe, and he liked the wolf a whole hell of a lot. The only one he would do it for without hesitation was Allison. He'd burn the world for her and never think twice about it.

"Should we say anything?" Allison asked him as she prepared to slit her palm open on his say-so. Nobody had ever trusted him the way she did, and nobody else had so many reasons not to. She'd still chosen him again and again. He had chosen her just the same, and gods he loved her.

"Nah. She's not the chatty type. Let's just give it to her and go." With a nod and zero hesitation, she drew her knife across her skin, leaving a deep cut behind. He'd have to do some healing later, he decided as she made a fist to encourage her blood to drip down. As the red dripped into the little pocket of water they were standing near, she passed him the knife. It took a moment to steel his nerves - he hated blood, hated any sharp thing digging into flesh and leaving a mark. Just like he'd done with his tattoos and the symbol the skunk apes had given him, he took a deep breath, firmed his shoulders, and did what needed to be done anyway.

Their blood stayed separate for a while, drifting in the murky water in thin, wavering threads. Slowly it began to mingle and spread out, until the whole of the puddle was tinged red. He watched, waiting to see if their offering was accepted, while Allison bound his palm and then her own with lengths of bandage. For a minute he was worried that maybe he'd read the wind wrong, maybe she'd wanted more or different... but then the water began to swirl. He could see the ripples when the movement started, and soon the whole puddle was moving clockwise, a small whirlpool in the center. It stopped more suddenly than it had started, and when it had every hint of red that had been there was gone. He let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, then nodded at Allison.

"We are good to go. C'mon, Alley-cat. We both deserve a nice long soak in that disgusting hotel Peter booked for us."

"Mmm." Her expression had gone soft and dreamy as she stared at nothing. Probably she was thinking of gigantic marble tubs sunken into the floor and obscenely soft robes to put on afterwards. "We need to do jobs for him more often. But not in the swamp."

"Nope." he agreed easily, laughter bubbling up in his chest. Stiles looked into the depths of the swamp again, and for a moment he swore he saw a large, dark shape slinking through the muddy waters. "Definitely never coming here again, not even for that well stocked mini bar and those amazing beds."

"I fucking hate the swamp."

"I know." Neither of them broke rank for a moment as they headed for their rented car. They didn't glance at Margaret, didn't allow reaching hands to slow them down. The Lebacs had made their bed, and they were both prepared to let the whole coven lay in it. Maybe that made them bad people. Stiles couldn't bring himself to care though. Not when he had Allison at his side and a werewolf waiting for him at home.

The man staring back at him from the mirror was, Stiles decided, severely lacking. Twinks were a dime a dozen and he didn't have much more going for him than his moles and his ass. He half-turned to examine it, head cocked to the side. His red jeans were painted on and showed off what he was laying down pretty well. That and some fortunate birth marks aside, he was bangable but not memorable. Swallowing hard, he tried to ignore the truth whispering in his ear that he didn't have a chance. They'd been talking for weeks, had even met up for a few casual coffees and quick lunches at local cafes. He wasn't new anymore, and the flirting couldn't last forever. Soon the shine would wear off and then where would he be? Werewolfless, that was where, because Peter could definitely do better than a scrawny twenty-five-year-old who ate cereal out of ritual bowls and couldn't stick with a firm payment structure if his life depended on it.

Fuck. Peter was totally going to say no. Shit.

"Sti. You're lost in your head and that's a scary place to be. Come out here with me for a bit."

"No. You're going to try and make me feel better. I don't want to feel better because then it'll feel worse when I ask him out and he laughs at me."

She gave the most dismissive huff he'd heard since cutting Scott out of his life, which was just fucking rude and hurtful. Refusing to face her, he found her reflection in the mirror and glared at her from there. Of course she wasn't affected. Not when she was all comfy-cozy in a pair of his sweatpants, curled up against the headboard of his bed and eating ice cream out of his ritual bowl.

"Hypocritical harlot! You gave me so much shit last time I ate out of that."

"I don't have magic. To me it's literally a bowl. A fancy bowl that's the perfect size for ice cream. Don't try to distract me with this fight. He isn't going to--"

"Allison. Alley-cat. He is a mega-hot, super-rich werewolf who is so clever and sarcastic that it physically pains me. I am a twink with a decent ass." This time her sigh was less snarky, which he appreciated. She set her ice cream aside and stretched her way off the bed, a sleek cat slinking towards him. When she got close enough he gave in to the urge to turn and bend down enough to hide his face in her shoulder. "Why would he want me?"

Her fingers found his hair, and he sighed at the feel of nails scratching over his scalp. Stiles sighed and let his muscles go a little looser, resting more of his weight against her. Allison held him up with ease, stronger than anyone had ever given her credit for. He slipped his arms around her waist and breathed her in as a way to stem the rising panic.

"This isn't Beacon Hills, and you aren't in high school anymore."

"But -"

"No. I know you go back there whenever you're feeling insecure, but no. We're not doing that today. You are getting ready for a date-"

"A pre-date. A 'will you please consider going out with me' snack."

"A pre-date." Her easy agreement meant she was worried about him. It was sweet. "You're going to ask him and he is going to say yes. He is so clearly into you that it's kind of gross to be in public with you two. Peter has wanted you since you lusted after him during a rescue mission."

"He wanted to fuck me. That's different."

"Oh, he definitely wants to fuck you stupid - present tense, by the way. But that isn't all he wants to do and you know it. This isn't even about him, not really." Shit. He hated that she knew him so well.

"Is so." He sounded sulky even to himself, and they both knew he was lying. For that he probably deserved the sharp sting in his scalp when she tugged on his hair. "Allison--"

"This is about you and how you keep forgetting that this isn't Beacon Hills." Her voice had gone hard and fierce, and she curled her body over his like she could protect him - both of them - from the past. "And that not everyone is as stupid as Scott and the rest. You are just as scary smart as Peter is, and maybe nobody else knows it, but you're a motherfucking Spark. You've got more talent in your pinky than most people will ever have period." His hands spasmed as he pressed closer, and he couldn't stop his fingers from twisting into the material of her shirt. "You're brave and funny and just the right amount of ruthless." A sob caught in his throat, but she was ruthless too because she just wouldn't stop. "You stuck with them, with us, even when it would have been easier to walk away. You bled for us, killed for us, because we were yours and you didn't know how to do anything else. I know it's hard to hear, but you are amazing. You always were. And I am so sorry it took me so long to realize it, and I'm sorry they never did. But we aren't there anymore. We got out."

"We got out." He spoke the words as reverently as she did, because some days it didn't seem real. Some days he was still that kid, still scared shitless and trying so hard to make them listen. Some days he was still standing in a corner watching everyone else get power-ups and significant others while he got left further and further behind. But that had been years ago. Now on the rare occasion he was backed into a corner she was right there with him. "And we delivered a hell of a beat-down to a demon fox on the way out of town."

"We did, because we are both total badasses." Allison tugged his head up and flashed him her dimples, because sometimes badass women were also Disney Princesses. "And they're all morons for letting us go. I don't think Peter is going to make the same mistake with you. Now stop trying to sabotage yourself and let that man woo the hell out of you." The sudden shift in tone was welcome, even if his laugh sounded a little wet and her eyes a little over-bright. She ruffled his hair and stepped back with a smile. "Better?"

"Yeah. You... you really think he might want to... woo me?"

"Stiles. Sweetie. You're too smart to pretend to be this dumb. I know he does because he is actively in the process of doing it."

"... he does order me a lot of DoorDash." Allison's eyes rolled so hard it must have hurt, a huff of annoyance leaving her lips. "And that hotel room was pretty ridiculous."

"The most ridiculous."

"He keeps fixing my jacket for me when I put it back on. I wear it even when it's too hot now just so he'll do that. Put the judgment away, because he steps close and he smells so good. Hell yeah I'm gonna take advantage of that." A thought hit him then that had him blinking at her and feeling like an absolute moron. "I didn't actually have anything in my hair the other day, did I?"

"Nope. He just wanted to touch you." He felt it when all his breath left his lungs in one large 'whoof' and his legs collapsed right along with it. The sudden understanding was a sit-on-the-floor moment, a 'holy hell what the fuck' moment. A time for reflection and also to ask Allison to hit him, because he was such a fucking idiot.

"Oh my God. Kill me. I'm begging, Alley-cat." Her giggles were unappreciated, but it was sweet of her to join him on the floor and cuddle close. "Fuck. I'm so... but why hasn't he said anything?" Yeah, that felt right. A flush of anger warming his ears was better than feeling like a total moron. The awful swooping in his stomach needed to stop no matter why it was there. It was likely to make him throw up or get his magic so riled he made the furniture fucking dance or some shit.

"Stiles. He proposed to you - or as good as, anyway - the second time you met. I think he's said plenty." Baffled, he could only stare, head cocked to one side. It made him look like a goddamn bird - or so she said - but he couldn't make it stop, because what the hell?

"He... proposed?" About to accuse her of hyperbole - unhelpful hyperbole at that - he was brought up short by the little furrow between her brows. She reached up and pressed the inside of her wrist to his forehead, thwarting his initial attempt to duck away. Before he could even halfway process that her other hand was already prodding at the line of runes inked along his right collarbone. She'd meant to catch him off his guard and it had worked, which was sort of an answer in itself.

"I'm not possessed. And what the fuck are you talking about?

"... Stiles. If you're trying to be cute or funny it isn't working. I may not like Peter very much, but it's still a bad joke to make."

"Allison. I swear on mom's grave --" Her fingers stretched toward the knife she wore proudly on one hip even in his home, and he cut himself off. Dead mom - easy demon pickings. It was a good enough vow on most days, but not when she was already worried that there was something wrong with him. "I swear on the box we left in Beacon Hills." Maybe He was neutralized once more, but nobody who didn't mean it would take a chance by swearing on Void. Even other demons weren't that stupid - most of them, at least. Stiles hated bringing Him up, hated opening that door even a little, but it was sometimes the only oath he could give her that mattered. "I'm not possessed and I have no idea what you're talking about."

He had fucked up somewhere, and he'd done it in spectacular fashion. The look on her face was enough to let him know that, and all the birds swooping around his stomach were crushed when it clenched. There was something he'd missed, flustered by the attention and too caught up in his own head to look close enough.

"Stiles. Think. When we were at his apartment that first time, didn't any of that seem strange?"

"I mean... he was kind of all up in my business, but I figured that was like... like a territorial thing? Like, I was in his favorite chair so he was going to sit really close to me and... and yeah, o-KAY, maybe it was a little... It's easy to see it now! But when it was happening I was a little distracted by his extremely unfair forearms. He has the best forearms, and fuck but his neck--"

"Oh my God. You are just... you are unbelievable, that's what you are. Stiles. I've watched people have sex that was less intimate than the way he scented you."

"You better mean porn, because if you went to an orgy and didn't invite me--"

"Don't change the subject. That man rubbed his face all over yours and nibbled your fucking neck. It was obscene. And then your wrist! If I'd had pearls to clutch I would have been clinging to them for dear life. Your wrist, Stiles. I know that you know what it means. Stop convincing yourself you don't deserve him and just--"

"It'd be easier if you'd just cut the cryptic bullshit and tell me!" Her lips pursed and she arched a brow at him. It made him feel small and stupid, which she must have seen in his face. She swooped down to cuddle him again, his nose tucked against her neck so he could breathe her in. He did just that as he tried to shoulder through the embarrassment and self-loathing to pay attention to her words. If she said he should know this, he did. And if he could figure it out on his own, connect the knowledge to what he'd experienced, he might actually believe whatever impossible thing she was trying to sell him.

Scenting. She'd mentioned scenting and wrists and proposing... If he closed his eyes, Stiles could still feel the phantom of Peter's cheek rubbing against his own, the drag of his stubble absolutely delicious. He forced himself to ignore how much he'd like to feel that drag elsewhere and dredged up everything he'd learned about werewolf scenting instead. It had been wildly inappropriate of Peter - only a close family member or mate should have garnered that kind of attention. From the sensual undertone, the one that even the ghost of had Stiles squirming, 'mate' was much closer to the mark. Only they weren't, couldn't be, hardly knew each other--

Mates. Proposing. His wrist. That lingering, heart-stopping kiss that shouldn't have felt as weighted as it had. Or maybe it should have felt more weighted, because holy fucking shit. A strangled noise managed to escape his throat, and Allison's hands began to comb through his hair.

"Knew you'd get there."

"Fuck you," he managed from far away. Peter thought they were mates. He'd scented him like they were already bonded, made promises with those lips that went beyond words. Proposed Allison had said, which was a goddamn understatement. Since then he'd been providing for Stiles, for Allison as Stiles’ pack, as best as he could. Or as much as Stiles would let him, anyway. And they'd had little not-dates, been talking and flirting and he hadn't said anything. "I'm going to kill him."

"Stiles."

"And then I'm going to kill you. Why didn't you tell me? I've been... been mooning and moping and he's been waiting, and you both just let me act like an idiot--"

"I thought you were enjoying the courting." Allison told him, voice as small as he'd felt a short time ago. "It's romantic, and usually... usually you're chasing. I thought you liked having it be the other way around." The words would have stung more if she hadn't had a front row seat to all his most disastrous attempts at dating. She'd seen the way he clung, the way he fell faster and harder and with everything he had. Allison had been there for Lydia, and was keenly aware of just how low his self-esteem was. It made sense, the way she'd gotten it wrong. "And I bet Peter didn't want to push. They aren't supposed to, once they make their intent known."

"But he didn't!" It was damn close to a wail, and he hid in her neck again once it was through. He was right and wrong at the same time, and he really was going to murder the pair of them. Maybe. If he couldn't get a happily ever after of some kind he was absolutely going to go terminator on their asses.

He could get that though - the fairy tale ending was in reach. Peter wanted him for more than his ass or snarky one-liners. The wolf had been dropping hints for as long as they'd known each other, even if Stiles was only realizing it now. The mentions of his scent, the heated looks, the way Peter continued to scent him more obviously than a friend should. All the little touches, the subtle glares if anyone else got too close, the continued fishing for Stiles' disapproval over sex magic - which he was about to get. Like hell was anyone else laying a hand on his werewolf. His mate.

"Sti?"

"Alley-cat?"

"Get your skinny ass up off the floor and go get your wolf."

She didn't have to tell him twice, or even finish the once. He was already up and moving towards the door as fast as he could. They were supposed to meet in forty minutes, but fuck that. He could get to Peter in ten, no - his magic reserves were fine and he had a hell of a thing to believe in. Five minutes tops and he'd be able to finally give Peter the answer to the question the wolf had been asking all along.

Chapter Text

There was no time to be as thoroughly disgusted by Peter's home as he usually was. The building was still horrible and ostentatious, but it no longer mattered. What mattered was that the elevator was so fucking slow it hurt, slow enough that he gathered his magic to meddle. Speeding it up made the gears and pulley system whine in protest, but Stiles ignored it. His belief was enough to keep the contraption safe and whole despite his abuse of it. Travel time cut in half, he didn't hesitate to step out as soon as the doors slid open. Shoulders firm and chin held high, he hurried through the hallway intent on his destination. He blew past a few other occupants but didn't bother to acknowledge them. He needed to get to the door of the werewolf he was either going to kill or marry.

Part of him, that tiny part that would never really go away, urged him to turn right back around when he reached Peter's apartment. This had the potential to go horribly wrong, because who the fuck would ever want him? The package that was Stiles Stilinski was an acquired taste at best, and there had been very few people in his life that stuck around past the introductory period. All the good vibes and the clear signs that had made so much sense when he'd been rushing over could easily be him reaching for something he wanted, tricking himself in the process. Luckily he didn't have only his own evidence here - he had Allison's. Stiles trusted her more than he trusted himself most days. So with a deep breath he stopped himself from turning tail, squared his shoulders, and knocked.

Pounded. Really he was pounding on Peter's door, because his adrenaline had spiked again and he wasn't always good at self-control at the best of times. It sounded desperate and unhinged to his own ears so he could only imagine what the werewolf was thinking. If Peter was even home. Maybe he'd left early. Maybe he was already gone and Stiles was banging on the door to an empty apartment like a crazy person. Maybe--

The door yanked open just as Stiles swung his fist again. He couldn't stop the momentum right away and his fist almost smashed into Peter's nose instead. Vaguely he registered that the werewolf was growling, hunched over and eyes glowing like there was a threat. It made sense in a distant way, but that wasn't really important. It was more important to let Peter know that he'd finally caught up, that he got it, that he was so sorry to have made him wait and that he wanted what Peter had offered more than he'd ever wanted just about anything else. So he ignored all the aggression pouring off his wolf and let his fist carry him forward.

For a split second he entertained the thought of smacking the man's chest a few times to show frustration. This all could have been avoided if the man had just talked to him. It would be a shame to waste more time though, so he discarded the notion as soon as it formed. Instead he jumped at Peter, and it was surprise that sent the werewolf back a few steps before he caught the both of them properly.

Stiles immediately hooked his legs around Peter's waist and pressed as close as he could. The hope that was quickly wiped from the wolf's expression damn near broke his heart. Fuck. He was an idiot, and Peter was so stupid, and he was never going to let miscommunication or crossed wires fuck with them ever again. Despite his clear confusion and abrupt shift away from protective rage, Peter was quick to put his hands on the back of Stiles' thighs to steady him. It would have been even better if those large, steady hands had found purchase on his ass instead, but all in good time. With their hands and legs busy, Stiles used his magic to slam the door. Peter didn't even blink at that, though the loud 'click' when his locks all turned themselves at once earned a bemused glance. If they were interrupted he was going to murder someone, so Stiles immediately, impulsively added a layer of protection of his own without bothering to ask for permission. Most people who could sense such a thing would have been upset with him, but not Peter. The wolf didn't get angry at him about boundaries or seem scared of the strength of his magic. Instead Stiles got to watch as naked hunger took over the werewolf's expression at the casual display of power. It was enough to make his pants feel entirely too small and almost distracted him from his talking points. Almost.

"I am so angry at you." The words were unsteady, heart racing in his chest. His whole body was shaking, or at least it felt like it. He was so close to getting something he'd hardly dared to dream of. That he hadn't vibrated into a million tiny pieces was a miracle. "Like, so mad. Later I'm gonna yell and maybe hex your toothbrush or something."

"Your anger is palpable." That dry tone was so goddamn irritating and he hoped he'd get to hear it every day for the rest of his life. The wolf's tone and expression shifted quickly, worry and irritation present in equal measure. Fuck. Peter was letting Stiles see all that, had taken off some of his armor to do so. It was fucking romantic. Butterflies swooped in his stomach, and he had the urge to tuck his nose against the spot just under Peter's ear. "What the hell is going on Stiles? I thought you were in danger. Where am I supposed to put all that bloodlust now, hm?"

Peter had come to the door suited up and ready to rumble. With no context but what he could read from Stiles' anxiety and heart rate he had come to the conclusion that he was in trouble and had been ready to kill for him. He would have dropped a body right there in the hallway, subtlety and skill and anonymity be damned. Stiles couldn't help but coo at the man and let go of those broad shoulders to squish his cheeks instead. "You were going to kill for me. That is the sweetest fucking thing." Not a normal reaction, but then there weren't many people who'd ever accused him of that. "Also, you're adorable when you're cranky that you can't spill the blood of my enemies." Peter growled and flashed his eyes, and when Stiles didn't stop his squishing he turned his head to playfully snap at one finger.

It was then that Stiles followed his earlier urge, nuzzling into Peter's skin and breathing in deeply. The scent of him was nearly overwhelming so close up, but still made him feel like he was home. He was so close to Peter's throat, close enough to do some real damage, and Peter seemed perfectly happy to just let him stay there. He wanted this, wanted it for longer than just this moment and Peter still hadn't said anything and what if he and Allison were wrong?

"Stiles? Is something wrong?" He hadn't realized just how anxious he was until the question was asked. He ignored it as best he could though. Their talk would solve the anxiety one way or another, and until he had that definitive answer nothing else would work. Hopefully Peter wouldn't dwell on whatever distress signals his body was pumping out so they could dig into the heart of things quickly.

"Your communication skills," he answered promptly against Peter's skin. "They suck, and you suck, and Allison sucks and I'm somehow just as fucking stupid as both of you. That's what's wrong."

"I... I'm lost, sweetheart." The quiet admission pulled at all the tender places left in his heart.

"Why the fuck didn't you just tell me instead of being a cryptic shit?"

"Tell you what?" Peter's voice was too smooth, too careless to be real. The way Stiles could suddenly feel the man's heart fluttering in his neck was far more telling. Wanting to soothe him, unable to help himself, Stiles pressed his mouth against Peter's pulse point and held there, hands running down Peter's arms then back up to grab his shoulders. Peter shivered, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. "Stiles..."

"Don't play dumb. You're not very good at it." He lifted his head and narrowed his eyes at the man, trying to show that despite all the physical affection he was, in fact, angry. "Now spill or I'll chant up an actual curse."

"I think I was very clear with my intentions." Peter's eyes darted away then back, and was his wolf pouting? It was absolutely fucking adorable. "It's not my fault that you can be surprisingly dense for someone so clever."

"I have never been so angry at someone and still wanted to kiss them so fucking badly." Peter's hands flexed, gripping him hard enough to bruise for a moment that didn't last nearly long enough. Then one hand moved up, fingers burying themselves into his hair and tugging. He let his head be maneuvered until his chin was tipped up to let Peter have a full and unimpeded view of his face. The pose was one of submission, and Stiles allowed that only because of all the flashes of vulnerability Peter had allowed to shine through his usually smarmy facade. "You can't just... just scent me and flirt with me and expect me to get it, you asshole. I nearly talked myself into a panic attack over you before Allison clued me in. Lucky for you she then also talked me out of my potentially homicidal rage. Mostly. Though again, mad enough to hex some shit and have it stick."

"I didn't just scent you." The defense was gently mocking, his eyes soft with affection. Despite the attitude that seemed to be intrinsic to Peter's personality he was clearly being sincere. The combination went right to his heart even as he wanted to bare his teeth and bite the man. "I never 'just' anything with you."

"How was I supposed to know? You didn't say anything. I am shit at mental magic, dude, and not much better at social cues that involve me. I need out-loud words. Blunt ones. Maybe with a PowerPoint or something just to really make sure I get it."

"I'll start spelling things out in Christmas lights. Will that help?"

"You're kidding, but yes. Please. That'd be fucking great, actually."

Peter laughed, a real full-throated one that involved throwing his head back and closing his eyes. It was a beautiful sight for a beautiful sound, and he basked in it and the fact that he was the cause. He slid one hand up the back of Peter's neck to tangle his fingers in the short hair there. He would have been disappointed that the gesture made the laugh stop, but then Peter leveled a look at him that was so soft and fond that he couldn't feel anything but shyly pleased. Peter's firm hold on him wouldn't let him hide in the man's neck again, which was incredibly unfair.

"Now. Since you think my communication skills are so lacking," It also wasn't fair that Peter was so hot when he was so obviously teasing. "If I understand correctly, your only objection is that I didn't make my intentions clear enough?"

"You still haven't even told me what your intentions are. With words, Peter." He added when the man opened his mouth, a protest clear in his expression. "I need words. Please."

There was a long pause, and even Allison's certainty couldn't keep his nerves from fluttering back to life. Maybe there was still some kind of misunderstanding, or maybe Peter wasn't sure if he still wanted what Stiles was pretty sure the man had been after from the start. Maybe the reality of Stiles cluing in wasn't what he'd expected or maybe he'd figured it out too late or--

"I felt it when you walked into the Hunter's den that first day." Peter's voice was quiet, almost reverent, eyes locked on his. "I had allowed myself to be captured - one of the wolves that had gone missing was part of a Pack I owed a favor to - and the easiest way to get the others out was from the inside. I meant to work out an escape sooner, but something told me to wait, that it wasn't the right moment yet. I spent three days in that hole waiting for something. As soon as you got close enough I knew I'd been waiting for you."

"Peter..." It was hard to breathe, Peter's soft, direct honesty doing something wonderful to his insides. That would have been days of torture - literal and figurative - that his wolf had endured. That made him ache in sympathy and wish that he'd been more vicious when killing the Hunters. He should have razed their little hidey hole to the fucking ground.

His wolf had been hurt and while the Hunters were the root cause, part of it had been because of him. He'd made Peter wait, and doing so without knowing didn't make him feel much better about it. At the same time though, the idea that some part of Peter had wanted him even before they met... he shivered and tried to press even closer. Peter's expression softened into a smile, and he finally let go of his hair and cupped his neck instead, the gesture more tender and far sweeter than he would have given Peter credit for.

Sustained eye-contact had never been anything but awkward until now. Until the blue of Peter's eyes became the most fascinating color ever imagined. He couldn't look away, didn't even really want to try. Peter seemed just as caught as he was, thank fuck, which nearly silenced the continued urge to hide away. And holy shit was it the opposite of awkward. He didn't think he'd ever had anyone say so much to him without uttering a word. And maybe it was corny or wishful thinking or absolute lunacy, but they were soul bonding or some shit.

"I caught your scent well before you found us in that little room. You smelled like mine, sweetheart. Right from the start you smelled like mine."

"I thought I smelled like power," he said in a ragged voice. His pulse was pounding in his ears, heat and pleasure washing through him in waves. Stiles had never experienced a moment like this - having sex hadn't been half so intimate with anyone else, and even the way Peter had scented him that first time paled in comparison. All they were doing was talking, and it felt like they were both more bare than if they'd taken their clothes off. Peter could probably read him like an open book, and for once Stiles didn't mind someone besides Allison seeing to the heart of him. "That's what you said, anyway."

"Because you did. That just wasn't all you smelled like."

"You could have told me."

"You wouldn't have believed me, and I was sure if I said anything you would run. I couldn't chance it."

He wasn't wrong. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Stiles knew that if Peter had tried to claim him that day then he would have laughed in the man's face. There was no world where he would have believed on that first meeting that someone like Peter would ever want him.

"And then I insulted Allison and you left anyway." Peter's lips twisted into a rueful smile. "The fates certainly have a twisted sense of humor to give me a Mate who's chosen an Argent to be his family."

The echoes of hostility and hate were completely understandable... and coming from anyone else still would have been unacceptable. Allison was more than the sum of all the Argent sins and fuck anyone who couldn't see that. Except... except it was Peter. And maybe for Peter he could try to put into words what she meant to him.

"We went through hell together, me and Allison. She'll be the first to admit the rest of her family fucking sucks." Except Chris, sometimes, but Stiles wasn't ready to tell Peter that. Not when he still seemed so grudging to accept Allison on her own. "But she was the only one--" His throat closed on the words, because for a moment he was back there again. Back with Scott and full of enough shame and doubt that he choked on it. Stiles would have gotten lost there, maybe, stuck in the worst time of his life, if it hadn't been for Peter. The wolf's thumb ran down his jaw in a motion that was soothing and grounding and he was able to drag himself back to the present. "She stood by me when nobody else would, and she walked away from everything to save me when everyone else was so afraid that they turned on me. It might not be romantic, but I'll never love anyone the way I love her." No matter what he felt for Peter, no matter how much he wanted a future with the wolf, he would walk away in a heartbeat if Allison wasn't part of the deal. She was one of his non-negotiables, maybe even the only one. It was better if he was upfront about that from the start.

"I know," Peter's eyes were soft, his smile more real. "And I find that kind of loyalty deeply attractive. Especially since you're willing to back it up with violence if need be. I'm trying," he added in a more serious tone. "Sometimes it's hard. She looks so much like-" It was time for Peter to stop abruptly, the past catching up with him. Stiles leaned up to press their foreheads together, close enough that they were sharing breath. Kate Argent had left nothing but destruction in her wake, and Allison's resemblance to her probably hit Peter in every soft, vulnerable spot he had. "I'm trying."

"I know. I've seen it." The worst of the sniping between the two had stopped, and even the number of passive aggressive gestures were at a new low. Peter was even genuinely gracious and kind sometimes. It was obviously an effort, but Stiles couldn't fault him for it, not really. Not when Allison was just as obviously playing nice with someone she didn't really like because of how much Stiles liked him. Maybe they'd never be besties, but he was sure that time would soften the rough edges of their relationship.

"When you left with her you took part of me with you," Peter murmured, putting a clear end to that line of conversation. Stiles bit his lip at the sentiment, which kept him from biting Peter's instead. "And I don't think I'm ever going to get it back. You're my Mate, and I intend to spend the rest of my life with you." His smile turned salacious, and he tipped Stiles' head to the perfect angle for a kiss. "I intend to tease you so you go that delicious shade of red," The heat rushing to his cheeks showed how easy that would be, and Peter chuckled. He could feel the sound on his lips, and he ached for the kiss Peter wasn't ready to give him. "I'll help you slaughter your enemies and lick their blood from your fingers." That was both gross and somehow sexy enough to make him tremble with want. "I'm going to get you every magical trinket you want and argue with you over the most ridiculous things. I'm going to learn you inside and out, Stiles, and twine our lives so tightly that no one will be able to tell where I end and you begin. I fully intend to fuck you so sweetly you'll cry from it, paint that pretty skin of yours with my marks so that everyone knows you're mine. I bet with your magic you could do the same to me no matter how fast I heal." He felt light-headed, all his blood rushing south. He could see it in his mind, Peter with his scratch marks down his back and finger-shaped bruises on his hips while he proudly wore Peter's bite on his neck as well as his wrist. "If you say yes to me, sweet boy, I intend to claim you and never let you go." Peter pulled away just far enough that Stiles could see the way he arched one brow. "Clear enough for you, or shall I head to the store and buy those lights?"

"If you don't kiss me right the fuck now I'm going to--" His threat was lost, stolen by the heat of Peter's mouth against his. The kiss was sweet and clinging, without the all-consuming hunger he had expected. Stiles couldn't get any closer to Peter, not really, not without crawling inside his skin, but he tried anyway. Peter rumbled in appreciation of the gesture and shifted him slightly before starting to walk. Their mouths separated briefly on the way across the room, but it didn't last long before Stiles dove back in and reclaimed his Mate's lips.

It was still sweet when the man sank into the chair that Stiles claimed any time he visited. They kept kissing while they both shifted to get comfortable, with him straddling Peter and the wolf's arms wrapped tightly around him. When they finally parted, Peter stayed close enough to rest his forehead against Stiles'; when his eyes fluttered open, Peter's were still closed. The expression on his face was serene and one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. His gaze roamed over the man's face as he tried to commit it to memory, wasting half a moment to wish he could take a picture.

"Still angry with me sweetheart?"

"Fuming," he murmured immediately. Peter chuckled before running the tip of his nose along Stiles'. "We could have been doing this for weeks."

"We'll just have to make up for lost time." They both fell silent then, sharing breath. Stiles reveled in their closeness and gave a soft hum of pleasure when Peter's hand started to rub over his lower back. "I really did think you had understood, you know. I thought..." A long pause, and then Peter gave a frustrated little growl. "I know the stories they tell about me - as I should, since I started most of them. You'd clearly heard them, and Allison said she dragged you to the Fanged Maven kicking and screaming. I thought maybe Talia was right after all. She always used to say that eventually karma would kick my ass. Some of those stories would be enough to scare a potential Mate away. So when you didn't answer, I thought it was those chickens coming home to roost. If I wasn't such a proud, stubborn bastard I would have given up my pursuit immediately. Should have, really, when you didn't respond that first day."

The bottom fell out of Stiles' stomach as he saw what that would have looked like. There would have been no phone calls or texts, no pre-dates or any time spent curled up in Peter's wonderfully comfortable chair. No flirting or touches or teasing. It would have begun and ended in that apartment, with Peter completing his request in a purely professional manner before vanishing from his life. He could have missed everything.

"I am so fucking lucky you're a stubborn bastard." He ran his fingers through Peter's hair, loving that it was now a little mussed. "I keep making you wait."

"You didn't know." It was an easy dismissal that almost made him feel worse. Did, until Peter gave him another deep, unhurried kiss. "I can be a very patient man when I need to be." He murmured on pulling back, hands lifting to frame Stiles' face. Peter's touch was so gentle it made something in him ache, and the tiny but lingering fear that this was all about sex vanished completely. "I knew you would be worth it, if I could win you over. And now that I know that you just need me to spell things out, you'll be absolutely powerless to resist my charms." Peter's grin was wolfish, and he was so assured of himself it should have been annoying. Instead it made Stiles want to melt into a puddle of goo. "Get ready for all the PowerPoints you can handle." The tease was almost enough to embarrass him, until Peter's expression went sincere again. "Thank you for telling me what you need, sweetheart."

Blushing, Stiles just shrugged and dropped his head to Peter's shoulder. He wasn't sure he deserved the thanks, but he was certain the wolf wouldn't like it if he said as much. "So. Now we are both in the know about the whole Mates thing." When he didn't immediately continue, Peter arched a brow at him. It was sexy enough to earn the wolf a kiss - a quick one, since Peter gently pushed him back only a couple moments later. "Sorry. We're doing words now, kissing later." It was what he'd asked for and what they needed, but it was still a little disappointing.

"Not too much later. We are both in the know, after all."

"You're making fun of me and I don't appreciate it." Again with the eyebrow cock that made him swoon just a little. "Okay, maybe I appreciate it a little. Still don't need you to mock me." He made an exaggerated pout that quickly earned him another sweet and clinging kiss. "Not gonna cut it," he murmured against Peter's lips. "You've hurt my feelings, Peter, and kisses only fix so much."

"I'm sorry baby." Peter's voice was pure sin, and it was like he had a direct line to all of Stiles' dirtiest, hottest fantasies. "I was only teasing. You can't really blame me, not when you look so pretty when I do. And I think you don't really mind." Peter's lips dragged along his skin, all the way up to his ear and leaving him a shivering mess in their wake. "In fact I think you might like it." Stiles whimpered when the wolf rolled his hips with purpose, grinding up against the erection that had been flagging just a little while they talked. "I think you'll like it even more when I finally peel you out of those jeans and spend hours taking you apart. Will you let me tease you like that baby? Be my good, sweet boy and take what I give you?"

Another whimper left him, louder this time. Peter chuckled before nosing at his hairline, able to smell as well as feel just how much those words had affected him. Fuck. He was totally going to call the wolf 'daddy' at some point. It was going to be work not to let it slip out before they had a conversation about kinky things. Especially since Peter was almost certainly going to keep pressing that button he'd just discovered.

"Yeah." The answer was delayed, almost too long after the question and he knew his voice sounded soft and uncertain. He wasn't, knew that he'd absolutely take it, but it felt natural to play into the part a little. "I would. Fuck, are you trying to kill me?"

Another chuckle, and then Peter's hands smoothed down his back before planting themselves firmly on his ass. "We're going to have so much fun together." He didn't answer the question, but then Stiles hadn't really expected him to. He also hadn't expected a sudden shift into being completely serious. "So long as you want to. It smells like you do, but I'm not young or stupid enough to think that means anything. I want you to feel safe with me more than I want inside this lovely body of yours."

Again with sweetness where Stiles hadn't necessarily expected it. He'd known Peter had layers, but even when he'd imagined dating the wolf Stiles had assumed it would take time and patience to uncover them. It was clear that Peter took being mated very seriously and was consciously letting down his guard and revealing himself.

"I am going to fall wildly in love with you." A delighted laugh from Peter made him smile. It was also a bit of a relief, because it didn't seem like Peter expected him to be there yet. Despite the depth of feeling that already existed, he couldn't in good conscience call it love. He needed a little time to grow into it, to get used to the idea that Peter could really be his. "I can tell. I'm going to be feral. Well, more than I am already. You're not going to be able to take me anywhere. You're too hot and too many people will try and flirt with you. I'll end up scratching someone's eyes out, and that's best case scenario. Also, just so you know - I am very, very down with the idea of having sexy fun with you, but thanks for checking in. We're gonna have to have like, a mature talk about sex though, I think, because I get the sense that you are a kinky fucker. I am too," he hurried to add in case Peter took it the wrong way and got offended. "So we should talk before we get, you know, too hot and heavy. I don't share well." That was important, something that would be his second non-negotiable when it came to Peter specifically. "If we're doing this, you're mine."

Peter looked him in the eye, then very deliberately tipped his head to the right, exposing the long, elegant line of his neck. Stiles sucked in a shaky breath before he lifted one hand. He let his fingers trail down the offered skin before he pressed his palm over it protectively. His gums itched with the desire to bite down, but he tamped down the urge. Later, maybe - after they'd had that talk.

Which reminded him.

"That first time I called, when you got all... all fucking weird."

"I did not." Peter sniffed, righting his head so he could stick his nose into the air. "I was being reasonable. You were the one acting obtuse."

"You wanted me to be all jealous! You wanted me feral and all like, forbid-y and shit. You were trying to rile me up and make me crazy."

"I thought you knew, remember? To me it was reasonable to make you aware of the situation. I was... upset when you didn't want me to stop participating in rituals that needed sex magic." There was a sulky tone to the wolf's admission, almost a whine, which was as adorable as it was ridiculous.

"Well forgive me for being a believer in bodily autonomy. We weren't even dating! There'd been no discussions of like, boundaries or anything and I didn't even know that we needed them yet! You doing a ritual like that was not on my bingo card for the evening and I didn't know how to react. But uh... I'm not, like, opposed to sex magic, or you providing some juice for it. But, uh. Look. I'm maybe just a little insecure--" Peter interrupted with a snort, and Stiles smacked his shoulder while sitting back a little. Despite that sign of sass, the wolf's eyes were intent when they met his, clearly listening and soaking everything in. "So since we're doing this," he gestured between the two of them, then dropped a quick kiss to the man's lips just because he could. "I'll be honest with you. I don't know if I can handle you doing sex magic with anyone but me. Like, I'd try because it's your body and your business, but--"

It was Peter's turn to interrupt with a kiss, this one swift but sure. "I haven't participated in a ritual since we met." For a moment, Stiles only blinked at him, trying to take that in.

"But... but you said! You said you couldn't wiggle out of it. No wriggling. You said Leanne wouldn't... get that smirk off your face." Stiles narrowed his eyes at the smug werewolf beneath him. He didn't have to reach for frustration, because there was still genuine anger simmering beneath his happiness to tap into instead. Peter probably read that, either in his face or his scent, and managed to drop the expression that was hex-worthy. "Don't act like you're winning something while I'm uncovering the layers of deception--"

"Layers of deception?"

"That you have been engaging in. You told me you couldn't get out of the contract!"

"I said it would be difficult and the contract was extremely binding." Stiles didn't buy the distinction, not when he could still remember how Peter sounded on the phone. "And then you didn't care--"

"I didn't know I was allowed to! Someone - a werewolf who shall remain unnamed - neglected to mention that little detail! If you're not in a relationship with someone, being mad that they're sleeping with someone else is weird and creepy."

"But you were." The smugness was back, and it was odds to evens whether Stiles would end up kissing or killing him over it. "I didn't pick it up over the phone, but you were angry. Enough that you remembered her name."

"Because I spent the next two weeks imagining you having sex with her! It fucking sucked, Peter. Especially because I have some experience in magic involving the horizontal tango. Not a lot, but enough to know what the crash afterward is like. I don't know Leanne and I didn't know ... I didn't know if she'd take care of you after." Grumpy with the admission - mostly because Peter looked more delighted by it than he had a right to - he sat back further and crossed his arms over his chest. Turning his head to look away from the wolf was harder, but he was upset enough to manage it. "Maybe I hated the idea of you having sex with her a lot, but the idea that you'd be alone and drained after was just as bad, maybe even worse. Because I know that a lot of people don't think about it, don't take care of their partner after." Especially not when one partner was a better 'battery' than the other. Spells naturally pulled more from him, would pull more from Peter, than from humans or many other supernatural creatures. Some partners wouldn't know that, wouldn't even think to check. "I didn't know if she'd look after you the way I--" Stiles bit back the rest, still refusing to look at his wolf.

"You are everything I could have asked for." The intensity that made up Peter's core was going to be the death of him. It was hard to be unmoved by the reverence, the sheer need in the wolf's voice. He tried and managed, however, because that little play of Peter's was among the most fucked up parts of their relationship so far. "I shouldn't have done it." Peter said after the silence between them had lingered long enough to be uncomfortable. "And I shouldn't have kept bringing it up. I'm... sorry." Peter's hands squeezed down, the gesture feeling less about sex and more about comfort. Then his hands slid into Stiles' back pockets, and he allowed himself to sink back against the man's chest.

"Don't do it again. Especially not with sex stuff."

"Done. I'm not..." Peter paused, took a breath, then buried his nose into Stiles' hair before continuing. "I've always had to go the long way around when I want something. When I was growing up I could never just ask for things. It's a hard thing to unlearn." For a horrible moment, Stiles was sure that there was no way they could work. Not when he needed words and Peter might not be able to give them. "Easy, sweet boy." He'd tensed against the man, revealing his state of mind even if his heartbeat and scent hadn't given him away. "I said hard, not impossible. I may need some reminding, possibly even some poking and prodding, but I'll get better with time and practice."

That was... fair, if not as reassuring as Stiles would have liked. "So you'll ask with words and I'll work on not sabotaging us because of my horrible insecurity."

"Mm. Sounds about right." Peter ran the tip of his nose along Stiles' hairline, a gesture more soothing than he would have thought. "Now. Before I ravage you I really should ask. Do you want a more formal Mating ceremony, or shall we bite each other when the mood strikes?" The drag of the wolf's teeth over his pulse point was a terrible, terrible tease that he responded to by whimpering. Peter's chuckle was far too smug and that simply couldn't stand. He turned his head and pressed a kiss to Peter's clothed shoulder. He trailed his mouth upward, relishing the pleased hum Peter made when he reached bare skin. Deliberately skipping the spot that would one day be decorated by his bite - which drew a whine - he kissed his way up to the wolf's ear.

"I should make you court me proper," he teased while letting his hands begin to wander over Peter's abs. "With all the bells and whistles that entails."

"I will, if that's really what you want. Just remember that it takes months, sweet boy, and you won't be allowed in my bed until it's done. As a point of fact we'll barely be able to kiss for at least a week while I orchestrate your first gift." That wasn't even a little subtle, and Stiles couldn't help but snort in laughter at the obvious play. Peter was certainly petty enough to make him pay for such a serious delay even if it meant the wolf would be suffering right along with him.

"Well when you put it that way... I guess I don't need anything so fancy." Now that he wasn't as obviously expecting it, Stiles swooped in and pressed his mouth to spot he'd skipped earlier, then bit down hard enough to make Peter gasp and arch up against him. It wasn't enough to start the bond, didn't even come close to breaking the skin, but part of him still shivered at the promise it implied. When he pulled back, it was to press his forehead against Peter's. "Let's start with something a little less permanent? I know you've been living with this for a while now, but I'm going to wake up in the morning convinced I dreamed this all up. So maybe we start with a drawer."

"We could start with you moving in."

"That's not a place to start, Pouty Wolf. Give me a drawer and you can have one at my place and then we'll go from there, okay? And to answer your earlier question, I don't really care about having the ceremony. I mean, I have some friends who would love the excuse to get drunk and tell embarrassing stories about me, but that's what it would be. I only really care about the you and me part. No surprise mating bites," he added with narrowed eyes. Peter struck him as just the kind of guy who would decide, mid-sex, that they were ready to be bonded. "Spontaneous is fine once we're both in the right headspace and have had a talk about it, but no actual surprises. Okay?"

"Mm. I, of course, wouldn't do that to you." Bullshit, but he wasn't going to press. "But since I'm sure you'll feel better if you hear it with the actual words - I won't surprise you with a mating bite. Feel free to surprise me with one if the mood strikes, however." The wolf was smirking again, and God they were going to have spectacular fights when they happened. They would be few and far between - he hoped - but explosive on those occasions.

"Nice try. So I can have a drawer?"

"You can have whatever you want." A line and not what he was asking, but it still brought forth a little giggle. "I mean that, you know. Anything I have to give is already yours." Peter shrugged, stole a kiss, then tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "So take as many drawers as you need. There's a room downstairs that I think you'd like for all of your magic junk." One bright eye opened, and there was a tiny grin on his lips that invited him in on the joke. Peter wasn't being dismissive or making fun - he just knew how little Stiles cared for all the paraphernalia of his trade. That little piece of understanding was enough to make him swoon all over again, and he lifted his hands so he could frame Peter's face. That had the wolf paying full attention again, one brow arched in a silent question.

"Fucking feral," he reiterated quietly. "Dangerously, wildly in love."

Peter's smile started small, but soon blossomed into something bright and beautiful that belonged solely to him.

"I wouldn't have you any other way."