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"Umm... Peter? Can you stay for a bit?" Stiles asked after dinner.
John had been called into the station. He sounded frustrated at the call but had assured them it was 'routine' but that only he could solve it.
Stiles figured it was one of the station's 'frequent flyers' that could only be placated by talking directly to the Sheriff. There always had been the I can only talk to the Sheriff contingent that would not be placated by any of the Deputies.
"Certainly," Peter nodded.
"Do you need me?" Derek asked. "I have a test in my early morning class tomorrow." Derek had gone back to school to finish the degree he had started back in New York.
"Nah, we'll be fine," Stiles assured him. "Good luck with that test."
"It's more of a quiz, so I'm not worried. Just need to get it submitted on time," Derek replied.
"See you later, then!" Stiles nodded.
Peter got up. He and Derek scented each other and Peter gave Derek a warm hug. Stiles could see that Derek looked pleased. That made Stiles get up and do the same.
"Now, what do you need to talk about?" Peter asked as they cleaned up the kitchen together. Stiles was pleased at how 'normal' this felt.
Stiles fiddled with a glass he was drying.
"Can't be that bad," Peter said. "Although that glass is so dry it's going to absorb water the next time it's used."
Stiles snickered then put the glass in the cupboard. "Okay. It's Scott. And his fixation on Allison. I don't know what Mr. Argent knows and I have an idea that maybe he should hear. I thought maybe you'd be a good person to reach out to him."
"Why Christopher?" Peter asked.
"Allison is his kid," Stiles said. "And, frankly, all that's left of his family. Or at least the sane part of his family."
"True."
"I know my dad would want to know if is was me, is all," Stiles went on.
Peter considered. "Is this you or..."
Stiles shook his head. "All me. Oh. I think. I'm still getting used to this thing."
Peter nodded. "Let me call, then." He took out his phone and dialed. Stiles thought it was interesting that Peter had Mr. Argent on speed dial.
"Christopher. Stiles and I would like to visit with you," Peter said. "Tonight, if possible."
Stiles couldn't hear the other end of the conversation but there was a whisper of thought that showed him how to improve his hearing. He held back for the moment.
Peter nodded. "That is more than acceptable," he said into the phone. "We will meet you there."
"So?"
"He'll meet us at the diner on Bahama Road," Peter said. "He obviously did not want us in his home, which makes perfect sense."
"Works for me," Stiles agreed. "Now? Or when?"
"Shortly," Peter said. "We have time to finish cleaning up here."
"Good," Stiles said. "Nice to be able to do something that's not a dire emergency."
Peter smiled. "Agreed."
They put the kitchen back to rights and Stiles organized a lunch for his dad from the leftovers.
Peter drove, since he had driven over to the Stilinski residence earlier.
"Fewer questions, in case anyone sees your Jeep," Peter pointed out.
"Meh. I'm kind of used to everyone knowing most of what I'm doing," Stiles admitted. "Cop's kid. I get narc'd on for like, breathing wrong. Dad's learned how to tune most of it out."
"Which doesn't explain how you haven't been associated with the chaos the Nogitsune caused while in your body," Peter replied.
Stiles shrugged. Then tilted his head as more whispers oozed into his head. "Oh. As part of the chaos, it also did what could be considered a confusion spell. Part of the chaos. Anyone who recognized my body was also given a seed of doubt. So they aren't confident with what they saw."
"Interesting."
"I get these... thoughts. Pretty sure they aren't mine," Stiles admitted.
Peter shot a look at him. "Be very careful who you admit that to."
"Oh, I already know that," Stiles agreed. "That sentence alone is enough for someone to want to throw me in Eichen House. Never, ever going back there."
"Good." Peter pulled into a parking space not too far from the door of the diner. It was known for reasonably decent food but it was slightly out of town. So it catered more to travelers than to the residents of Beacon Hills.
Chris Argent had arrived before them and had grabbed a table along the back wall.
The waitress followed them to the table. Peter sat across from Argent and Stiles sat between them.
"Just coffee for me," Peter said. "Black is fine."
"Curly fries?" Stiles asked. This wasn't his usual haunt and needed to check if they were even available.
The waitress nodded. "Sure. Plain or loaded?"
"Plain is fine," Stiles said. "And a... peanut butter milkshake."
"You just finished eating," Peter commented.
"Hey! Growing boy here!" Stiles protested.
Peter rolled his eyes. Argent gave a small smile.
Stiles waited until the waitress left and then deliberately poked in his head for information. Instructions on how to create a silencing ward appeared.
"I'm gonna... do a thing," he warned.
Peter nodded. Argent looked wary.
"Just... so no one can listen," Stiles said. He mumbled the spell and drew a circle with his finger. "Huh. Okay. It shouldn't keep like the waitress physically out, and anyone can see what we're doing. But anyone not at the table shouldn't be able to hear what we're talking about."
Stiles looked up to see cool eyes watching him closely.
"What else can you do?" Argent asked.
Stiles shrugged easily. "Dunno. I'm new at this."
"That's how you knew how to save Allison," Argent said.
Stiles nodded.
"Thank you, then," he said softly.
"Allie's a good person," Stiles replied, trying not to blush. "Wasn't going to let her die if I could help it. How is she?"
"She's mostly physically healed," Argent said. "A lot of residual soreness, which is to be expected. That will just take some time. She's also sleeping a lot, the healing took a lot out of her."
"Good to know. And tell her I asked about her."
"I will. So. What did you want to meet about?" Argent asked.
At that point, the waitress came to the table with their food and drinks. She efficiently poured more coffee and left.
Stiles moaned around a mouthful of fries. "Mmmmm...."
Peter reached in and took a fry from the basket. "Not bad."
Stiles nodded. He pushed the basket toward Argent. "Go ahead. You know you want to." He grinned.
Argent rolled his eyes but did take a fry.
Decided to just address the issue, Stiles said, "We have a major Scott problem."
Argent sighed deeply. "When do we not?"
Stiles pointed a finger at him. "True! Too true!"
"What now?" Argent asked.
"Do you know Scott's been hanging out in your neighbor's trees?" Peter asked.
"Still?" Argent was surprised.
"He's been skipping school so he can 'keep an eye' on Allison," Peter went on.
Stiles was impressed by the verbal air quotes.
"He hasn't been on your property, but he's listening to catch anything he can," Peter went on.
Argent gave Peter the stink eye.
Peter shrugged. "I've been watching him as he's watching her. He's a supernatural reveal waiting to happen."
"Dad blew him into Mama McCall for skipping school, so she's keeping a closer eye on him, but that's only going to work for so long," Stiles added. "He's... irrational and losing his Alpha Spark has only made him worse."
"And I'll bet he thinks it's someone's fault that he lost it and didn't give it away," Argent said.
Stiles nodded. "Got it in one."
Argent sat back in his chair and blew out a breath. "I don't have a lot of good options here."
Stiles snickered. "Like the Lady and the TIger. Which is worse?"
Argent nodded.
"Staying in Beacon Hills is definitely no-win," Peter said. "If you have somewhere else to do, I'd recommend that. Somewhere Scott can't follow would be even better."
Argent drew an abstract design on the table with a finger. To give himself time to think.
"I'd been thinking about going home," he admitted. "To France."
"The Lady is sometimes a better option than the tiger," Stiles grinned.
Argent snorted. "Not this lady."
Stiles looked at Peter and raised an eyebrow. He sent a warm feeling along their Pack bond.
Peter looked startled for a breath, then contemplative. "Really, Stiles?"
Stiles nodded. "I think it would be a good thing."
Peter took another fry from the basket and chewed for a moment. "If it goes well, it will be helpful all around."
"That's what I thought," Stiles replied.
Argent sat and looked blandly at them but Stiles could see the curiosity in his eyes at their cryptic conversation.
Peter sat up straight and said formally, "The Hale Pack would like to offer a Treaty with the Family Argent. Terms to be negotiated but to include alliance, information, and training. As Alpha and Emissary, we select Christopher Argent to serve as our contact with the Argent Matriarch." Peter flashed his red eyes for a moment.
Stiles nearly cackled when Argent paled for a moment. He obviously hadn't expected Peter to be the Alpha.
Then he realized what else Peter had said.
Wait? What? Emissary? Stiles packed that away for a private conversation with Peter.
"Solves all of our problems," Stiles pointed out. "You get to be the good guy back home, you have a built-in excuse to take Allison to France for an extended period, and, well, a Hale-Argent treaty would be a good thing for everyone."
"I..." Argent stopped himself by sheer will. He took a deep breath. "I accept your offer, on behalf of the Family Argent." It came out steady but Stiles could see the concern.
"Stiles is correct," Peter said softly. "It would be a good thing for you and for us."
"My father is still out there," Argent warned.
"Do you know where?" Peter asked.
Argent nodded. "But he's being watched by his own people. I can't get near him."
"Take that information back with you," Stiles urged. "That the Matriarch has been defied by a son of the house should be anathema. Let the Family deal with him."
Argent turned and really looked at Stiles. "That is an interesting way to look at it."
Stiles shrugged. "They should be cleaning up that problem, not you."
"He has his own resources," Argent warned. "Money and people."
"And I would think the Matriarch would have even more resources," Peter added. "And if he stole from the Argent Family, I would suspect there would be an... incentive to recoup their assets. As well as sending a warning to anyone else looking to be... independent."
"True." Argent nodded to himself.
"Scott's on lockdown for only two more nights," Stiles warned. "After that, Mama McCall goes back to the night shift. You have about forty-eight hours to get out of town without him seeing you leave. If you get out quietly, it will take Scott another day to realize that you've left."
"Good to know," Argent said shaking his head. "I don't know what to say."
"You have my number," Peter said. "Call when you're ready."
"Do us a favor and ask Allison, but only if she's ready, to call Scott from France and talk him off the ledge. Have her call from a burner phone so he can't bombard her after," Stiles suggested.
"I can do that. I'm willing to be the bad guy, saying she can't call after that one call," Argent promised. "Thank you both," he said sincerely.
Stiles' phone rang and he looked at the caller ID. "Oops. We didn't tell my dad we were going out."
"I'll come back to the house with you," Peter promised.
Stiles answered the phone. "Hey, daddio! What's up?"
"Why do I have calls from concerned citizens that you're in a diner with Peter and Christopher Argent?" John asked. "The Pack Bond tells me you're okay but it doesn't give me enough information."
"Actually, it's Pack business," Stiles said. "We're just about done and we'll explain when we get there."
"I'll see you shortly," John said. "Take care of yourself."
"Guess that's my cue to call it a night," Stiles grinned. "Anything else?"
Peter and Chris Argent shook their heads. Peter left more than enough money on the table and they waved at the waitress as they left.