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“Stiles, I think they’re like us,” Eleanora says, whispering into Stiles’ ear as she puts her paws up on his shoulders.
Stiles doesn’t respond right away, but focuses his attention across the library to where Peter Hale is sitting, absorbed in some ancient text, his wolf daemon asleep at his feet.
“How would you even know, Nora,” Stiles mutters under his breath and he can feel her annoyance. “Did you ask?”
“Of course I didn’t ask, I’m not rude,” Nora says.
“Then how could you possibly know?”
Nora leaps down and settles in Stiles lap, letting him sink his fingers into her fur. She presses against his chest, and Stiles relaxes as their hearts beat together. He never realizes how tense he gets when talking about this, even though some days, it’s all Nora wants to discuss.
But Stiles and Eleanora have always been unusual. She didn’t settle until Stiles was seventeen. The doctors kept saying it was probably part of his ADHD diagnosis, but what everyone wasn’t saying was that when something traumatic happens––like the slow, sad death of a mother––daemons either settled too early or settled later than average.
If Stiles was honest, he liked having the freedom of an unsettled daemon. But slowly, as more and more of his friends' daemons settled––as Scott’s Gabriella settled as a mountain lion, and as Jackson’s Valerie settled as a Komodo dragon, and as Lydia’s Jasper settled as a huge raven––Stiles began to realize how odd it was that Nora hadn’t.
And just as Stiles was beginning to think that he would be entering his senior year of high school with an unsettled daemon, his world turned upside down. Stiles would later learn from the Witch Consulate, Doctor Deaton, that the Nogistune was accidentally released by two feuding witch clans. To Stiles and Nora, it didn’t matter, the result was the same.
When the Nogitsune had been driven out, John had just been happy to have his son home and safe. It wasn't until Hannah––John’s giant golden retriever daemon––had tackled them both to the ground that they discovered that Eleanora had settled when she didn’t change into a mouse to sneak out of Hannah’s paws, like she usually did.
It was a few days later that John and Hannah made the second discovery, finding Nora alone in Stiles’ room, her facial markings making her look extra guilty of being caught. And in John’s defense, he didn’t freak out when he learned his son could separate from his daemon; instead, he took Stiles and Eleanora to see Doctor Deaton.
And that’s how Stiles and Eleanora learned about the ritual that witches go through to let them separate. And Doctor Deaton had said that sometimes the same thing happens by accident, when the spirit and body are forced apart. Nora had pressed her long black paws into Stiles’ hands, and her whole body shook as she listened to Doctor Deaton. Later, she told Stiles she couldn’t remember anything from the time he was possessed by the Nogistune; all she could remember was darkness.
Nora shifts in Stiles’ lap and brings Stiles out of his thoughts.
“Derek said that Peter was in a coma for a while after that big fire a few years back,” Nora says.
“You and Derek were talking about Peter?” Stiles asks.
Nora laughs. “No, sorry, I was talking to Veronica when you and Derek were studying the other day.”
“Don’t you think it’s odd that all of the Hales have wolf daemons?” Stiles asks for what might be the millionth time.
“Malia doesn’t,” Nora reminds him. “Lorcan is a coyote.”
“None of this is the point,” Stiles snaps, then looks around the library, worried he’s made too much noise. “Why do you think they’re like us?”
Nora looks up at Stiles with her black eyes, her ears pressed down, and Stiles suddenly gets it: she wants them to be like they are. She knows that Stiles has liked Peter for ages, knows that Stiles is drawn to the older, mysterious cousin of Derek. And she knows that now that Stiles is a freshman in college and Peter is a junior, that maybe, just maybe the other man might look at him as something more than a friend of the family.
And on top of all that, Nora knows that Stiles is lonely. She can feel it just as deeply as he can. Because despite the fact that they have so many wonderful friends, they can never tell anyone about their secret, and that will always keep them apart.
“I just do,” Nora says finally.
Across the room Peter gets up and stretches, then gathers his things into his backpack. As he crosses the library his daemon spots Stiles and says something to Peter, who looks up, smiles, and then cuts across the room to Stiles’ table.
“Stiles,” he says. “It’s always good to see you.”
“I, uh, yeah,” Stiles stammers. He flushes and collects himself. “Sorry, I’m just… midterms have fried my brain, you know? I’m not usually this…” he trails off lamely, aware that Nora is doing something with Josephine.
“Don’t apologize, I get it,” Peter reassures him. “Listen, I was gonna get out of here, do you want to maybe grab a bite to eat? Believe it or not, my brain is probably just as fried.”
“Oh! Now? Sure,” Stiles says. “Let me just––” he gestures to the books scattered across the table, and starts gathering them. “Sorry,” Stiles apologizes again, after dropping a few books before getting everything in his bag.
“Think nothing of it,” Peter says, ushering them out of the library, Nora and Josephine in their wake. “I’m certain that once we get some food in you, that same witty Stiles I’ve grown to know and appreciate will come out.”
“Let’s hope so,” Stiles hears Nora mutter, and he wants to turn around to glare at her but both Peter and Josephine roar with laughter, and so Stiles, determined to prove her wrong, follows Peter off campus.
A few hours later, after dinner has been consumed, and conversation has been had. After they migrated back to Peter’s apartment to watch some cult classic Peter had been talking about. After they fall into bed together, at first just due to the late hour, but later pulling each other’s clothes off and grasping for each other in the dark.
After all of that, in the dim light of the predawn, Stiles realizes with a start that neither Nora nor Josephine are in Peter’s bedroom.
“Don’t worry,” Peter whispers into Stiles’ skin. “Jo will take care of her.”
And if Stiles concentrates, she can feel the warmth of Josephine’s fir wrapped around Nora’s, and knows that Nora feels safe and protected, even if she isn’t right there with Stiles.
And so Stiles closes his eyes, and for the first time in ages, doesn’t feel the slightest bit alone.
