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Stiles resisted asking questions until they got back to his house. It wasn't easy but he had already figured out that Peter appreciated a moment to think. The quiet allowed Peter to process his thoughts. For a quick as Peter could shoot back snark, he seemed to like to have a moment to think through anything serious.
As they drove the relatively short distance, Stiles prodded the memories in his head for information about Emissaries.
"Whoa!" Stiles thought as a flood of information came. He'd have to sort through that later. One piece in particular gave reference to a book. That Stiles made a specific note of, to see if Peter had a copy available.
"Come in," Stiles invited when Peter pulled in front of the Stilinski residence. "There's tea and I'll see if dad left us any cookies."
"Tea would be good," Peter agreed.
"And, to be honest, I want the neighbors to get used to seeing you come in and out," he grinned. "The more they see you and nothing happens, the faster they'll ignore you."
He saw Peter glance around and spy the shifted curtain in the side window of Mrs. Readling's home. The house sat kitty-corner across the street and the side window was perfectly positioned to see the Stilinski front door.
"Yup! That's the one!" Stiles laughed. "She always watches and I suspect she sleeps in that chair. So making you a routine visitor makes life simpler."
Peter nodded and followed Stiles into the house.
"Come to the kitchen," Stiles invited. "I have a bunch of different teas and you can pick what you want. You strike me as a tea snob but I don't have loose tea, so you'll have to make do with bagged tea."
"Be still my heart," Peter teased. "I will live."
"Good." Stiles leaned into the living room to wave at his dad. "Tea and cookies?"
"You just ate a basket of fries as big as your head," Peter commented.
"And?" Stiles challenged as he rummaged through the freezer. "Oh, good. There's some left." He brought a plastic container labeled 'vegetable soup' from the freezer.
"Stiles..." John drawled.
"Dad! I had to hide them. You'd eat them all, otherwise," Stiles protested.
John grinned. "That's what cookies are for!"
Stiles pointed a finger at his dad. "And you're supposed to watch your weight and cholesterol."
Peter looked like he wanted to say something but stayed out of that particular father/son discussion.
Once they fixed their choice of tea, they settled around the dining room table.
"Okay, let's start with this Emissary thing," Stiles said.
"Sorry to spring that on you," Peter said. "First of all, the offer to treat with the Argents is best when it comes from the Alpha and the Emissary."
"Oo-kay..." Stiles said, encouraging Peter to go on.
"And, to be honest, with your magic, you're the best person for the position," Peter went on. He held out a hand and waited expectantly for Stiles to put his hand in it.
There was something warm and alluring about holding hands with Peter Hale, Stiles realized.
"Mieczyslaw Stilinski, as Alpha of the Hale Pack, I would offer to you the position of Emissary," Peter said formally.
Stiles sat up straighter. "I accept your offer to be the Emissary of the Hale Pack."
Another strand of something snapped in place along side of the Pack Bond.
"Whoa," Stiles said, rubbing his chest.
"Now what have you two done?" John asked patiently.
"I just formalized something that would have happened eventually," Peter admitted. "I offered Stiles the position of Pack Emissary. It's part of the pack hierarchy, and an important position."
"Is it dangerous?" John frowned.
"It actually serves to protect him, to some extent," Peter replied. "Among Packs, the Emissary is a... sacred position. To be protected at all costs."
"Outside of Packs?" John asked.
Peter shrugged. "Being a part of the Pack is its own danger."
"Um..." Stiles waved a hand around his head. "I've been told there's a book called Journal of a Emissary that I might find interesting reading?"
Peter's eyes widened slightly. "Oh. There's a copy of that in the Vault, but no one's been able to read it. Actually, no one's been able to open it." He tilted his head in consideration. "Huh. I had forgotten that was there."
"I'd like to try, when you have a chance?" Stiles asked.
"Okay. I have to ask," John put in. "If Stiles can read it, is it safe for him to do so?"
Peter hesitated, and Stiles jumped in.
"Dad. I already have the memories of a thousand-year-old magical entity in my head," Stiles said seriously. "He's forgotten more than the three of us will ever remember. And, remember, this was a chaos demon. A lot, and I mean a lot, of what he did was not pretty. Some of it, I can think of as movies or imagination. But some things are so real that I have memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone."
"Stiles!" John was dismayed.
"And those memories will tell me more than anyone should know about almost anything supernatural," Stiles went on. "Reading a book is the least of my worries."
Peter drummed his fingers on the table. He flicked a claw on one finger. "Do you think I could... dull some of those memories for you?"
Stiles poked at the memories, then shook his head. "Probably not."
"Just making the offer," Peter replied.
"Thanks. Most of it I can suppress or tune out. I asked it about what an Emissary was before and got a flood of information, most of which I can now access as I need," Stiles said. "But it's currently a jumble from a variety of resources over time. I'm hoping the book will give it some organization and make it easier to use the information when I need it."
"You need me for anything else?" John asked. "I have an early shift tomorrow and should get some sleep."
"Nah, we're good," Stiles said. He got up and gave his dad a hug. "Sleep well."
"Don't stay up too late," John said. Then he eyed Peter.
Stiles caught the look. "Don't worry. I just have a couple of Pack things to ask Peter. Won't be long."
"Okay, then. Good night!" John went upstairs.
Peter and Stiles spent a few minutes cleaning up after their snack. Stiles got coffee and lunch ready for his dad for the morning.
"Is he asleep?" Stiles asked softly.
Peter listened for a moment. "I think so. What did you want to ask without your dad around?"
"Let's sit in the living room," Stiles suggested.
They settled next to each other on the couch. Stiles turned to face Peter.
"When I was, umm, talking to your Spark, it called me Big Spark. Like there's something beside the Nogitsune in my head," Stiles said.
Stiles could see Peter thinking about that.
"First of all, I'm making educated guesses here," Peter said seriously. "While I know a lot of supernatural lore, I know I'm only scratching the surface."
"I get that," Stiles nodded.
"A Spark is usually a human who has a unique magical skill," Peter went on. "Druids, like Deaton as an example, need to use the Earth and symbolism to do their magic. Which is why he would have used a ritual to capture the Hale Alpha Spark from Derek."
"Okay..."
"Male witches rarely work alone," Peter continued. "They usually work together in a conclave, which is traditionally a group of seven, but it can be any prime number."
"Ha! All that math is worth something!" Stiles snickered.
"A Spark can do almost anything they believe in," Peter said. "I don't know anyone who can communicate with an Alpha Spark like you did. You thought you could do it, so it happened."
"Whoa. That's..." Stiles frowned and took a breath. "That's dangerous."
"Exactly. Which is yet another reason you don't discuss this with anyone," Peter said. "Your dad even. You don't want to be put in a position to do something you don't want to do."
Stiles nodded. He took another breath and fought a blush. He suspected from Peter's sudden amusement that he had failed.
"The Alpha Spark also said something about my being a Hale mate," Stiles said. It was one thing he hadn't wanted to ask the Nogitsune about.
It was Peter's turn to blush. "Oh."
"Peter. It's okay."
Peter took his hand and held it. "Well, to be honest, it told me the same thing," he admitted carefully. "I'm not opposed. In fact, my wolf is pretty enamored with you. You represent a level of power and protection to the Pack that hasn't been seen in decades."
"Is that all?" Stiles pushed.
"Sweetheart. How old are you?"
"Seventeen. Eighteen in a couple of months," Stiles admitted.
Peter shook his head. "I'm much too old for you."
"You're talking to a person with a thousand-year-old demon in my head," Stiles reminded him. "That has to count for something."
"It's not the same as living life yourself," Peter said.
"I'm not talking about jumping you tomorrow," Stiles rolled his eyes. "We barely know each other. I'm going to go to college and start working at... something. But I am going to see about graduating from high school this year and not waiting another year."
"That's a good goal," Peter said. "And the Pack will help you go to any college you want," Peter said.
Stiles laughed. "Does that make you my sugar daddy?"
"I'd be careful where you use that phrase." But Peter smiled as he said it.
"My dad would have a coronary," Stiles agreed.
"But knowing you're planning to wait is a good thing," Peter agreed. "If we are meant to be, it will happen."
"Good to know," Stiles replied. Peter's overt willingness to wait for Stiles to be ready for a relationship between them was a load off his mind.
"Okay, since we're having a heart-to-heart moment," Peter said. "You know your dad is in excellent health. It's a bit intrusive but I listened to his heart and such and I didn't hear any problems."
Stiles sighed. "Yeah. Intellectually, I know that. He had a worrisome health report about two years after mom died. He had just stopped drinking and was running for Sheriff for the first time. Getting him to eat better was a black hole I fell into readily. I read books, haunted the library, and badgered the dietitian at the hospital for information on healthy eating. It's been so long that it's a habit."
"Your dad takes it well, but you probably could lighten up, at least a little," Peter said.
"I'll try," Stiles agreed.
"Okay. I'm going to go." Peter stood up from the couch. "You need to get some sleep."
"Thank you," Stiles said.
Peter wrapped Stiles in a warm hug. "I think we make a good team. Thank you for trusting me."
Stiles hugged him back. "Get out of here, old man. Mrs. Readling is still watching."
Peter laughed softly as he left.